#i thought about hiring movers but i think is going to be too expensive for the amount of stuff i’m moving | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwasntstable · 14 days

Note

Hiii love your writing!! + you can totally ignore this if you’re not interested but can I request a little something about Noah being your neighbor in an apartment building?? You do whatever you want with it, I just think the idea could be so cute (:

n.s. | new neighbour

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

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content tags: fluff. word count: 3.1k note: thank you for requesting and for being so patient! 🖤 I originally wrote this as head-cannons but thought, no this needs to be a whole thing, it's too cute.

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (15) :　 ⌞⬤ 5 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

⌞⬤ 5 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ @lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa | @madamaaubergine @thewrstinme | @amourtoken

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @xcllnt | @romanreigns-supreme | @slutforcoffein

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

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When you first move in, you don’t see him much—the tall guy that lives across the hall. To be fair, you’re too busy trying to organise everything that comes with moving to a new place, ran off your feet redirecting all your mail, setting up your bills, and needing to go out and buy disposable plates, cups, and cutlery since your real ones are still packed in boxes at your old place. Everything is still packed in boxes at your old place.

After three days of sleeping on your mattress on the floor, the movers finally deliver your entire life to your new address. You didn’t know if they were in a hurry or just doing a bad job, and you can’t help but think you should’ve pushed the boat out and paid for more expensive movers because the ones you hired, instead of bringing everything inside like they were supposed to, left it all in the hallway. Every box. Every piece of furniture.

You try your best to move it all out of the way quickly, anxious that at any moment someone will use the elevator or come up or down the stairs and be unable to pass. Or, God forbid, the fire alarm goes off. Most of the boxes aren’t particularly heavy, but after all the repeated stooping down and standing up, your muscles were beginning to ache and strain, and it only worsened as time went on.

Pushing a stack of three boxes through your doorway—two heavy ones on the bottom with a lighter one balanced on top—you hear a muffled “what the fuck?” come from the hallway. For a second you freeze, feeling a wave of panic wash down your body, but the urgency has you sprinting back to the hallway to save the stranger.

“I’m sorry!” you shout before you even reach the door, exiting your apartment to find your neighbour trapped in his own doorway, unable to move past the stacks upon stacks of boxes. “I’m so sorry! The movers were supposed to bring them in, but they just left them out here. I’m sorry, just give me a minute,” scrambling and dragging the cardboard to clear a path for him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” the neighbour’s voice was calm and not at all pissed off like you expected. When you turn back to him after shoving a pile out of the way, you see his outstretched hand, “I’m Noah.”

Just for a moment, you’re transfixed by the beautiful tattoo work decorating his hand and extending up his forearm. You snap out of it, wiping your sweaty palm on your jeans before taking his hand in yours. You tell him your name, somehow able to think past just how big his hand is around yours. Noticing too, when you look at his face, the inkwork that peeked out from underneath the collar of his hoodie.

Noah smiles warmly and asks, “do you want a hand with... all of this?” Looking around at the carnage, “you look exhausted.”

You drop his hand from yours to run them through your hair, smoothing down the flyaways and tucking the strays behind your ears, only now realising how sweaty you are. “I- uh… It’s okay. I think I can handle it.”

“It’s no problem, seriously. And you’ll be done twice as fast with another person. Come on,” he pockets his keys and crouches down, picking up a box with ease. “Where do you want this one?”

You blink at him for a second before shaking yourself out of it and moving closer to read what you wrote on the top of the box, “uh, that’s kitchen.”

“Got it,” he said confidently, striding over a mound of boxes on long legs and disappearing through your door.

He was right; it only took you around 20 minutes to finish moving the rest of your belongings and furniture into your apartment.

“Drink?” you ask him, leaning back against the kitchen counter. He nodded, and you turned to the cupboard to retrieve a glass, only to realise the glasses were still packed, hiding in one of the—maybe fifteen—boxes strewn across the floor and the countertops. Looking back at him, you find amusement written all over his face, both of you bursting out laughing, delirious from the hard work.

“Do you know which one they’re in?”

“Not a clue,” you sigh, wiping at your eyes. “I labelled which room they belong to, but didn’t think to write what was inside each box on the outside of the box.”

“Well,” he grunted, taking the box nearest to his feet and hoisting it up onto the counter, ripping off the tape. “I guess we’d better start searching.”

You shake your head with a chuckle, pushing off the counter to begin the hunt.

The both of you spend the next few minutes rummaging, calling out the contents of each box you unsealed, declaring “plates!” here and “pans!” there. “Microwave!” and “knives!” Organising as you go, you tell him to place the microwave by the window and the knives next to the oven for you to put away later.

“Mugs!” you declare triumphantly, “these will do. My hands are going to fall off if I have to rip any more tape.” You take two—one decorated with Halloween-themed characters and one with the symbol of your zodiac sign—and rinse them under the tap before filling them with water and handing Noah the Halloween-themed mug.

He smiles at the little characters, “you know,” he says, raising the mug, “my birthday is on Halloween.”

“Oh my God, what a coincidence,” you smile, eyes wide. “I’ll try to remember to get you a card.” He chuckles and takes a sip of water, and you can’t help but notice how pretty his eyes look when the sunlight from the kitchen window hits them. “Thank you, by the way. For all the help. The hallway would still be a disaster zone if it wasn’t for you.”

“Don’t mention it, I’m happy to help my new neighbour.”

You’re mulling over how to ask more about him—who he lives with, what he does for work, when his phone pings. He takes it from his pocket and immediately his eyebrows furrow. “Something wrong?” you ask instead.

“Not wrong, no,” he sighs, “but I do have to go.”

“Yeah, no problem! Thank you again for all your help,” you take the mug from his outstretched hand as he pockets his phone again. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, definitely! It was nice meeting you, and good luck unpacking.” He steps over your kitchen supplies and heads out towards the door, calling over his shoulder “bye!”

“Bye!” you shout back.

You wouldn’t see him around much after that afternoon, somehow managing to miss each other in the hallway, never coming or going at the same time. You found yourself unable to stop thinking about him, listening intently whenever you heard the elevator or someone’s footsteps on the stairs. Always though, they would pass by your floor.

On occasion you do hear the sound of his door when you’re awake early in the morning. Angling to look out of your living room window, you’d see him—recognisable by his stature even when his identifiable tattoos were covered—exiting the building and taking off for a run. You mentally chastise yourself for acting so pathetically. Listening out for his footsteps in the hall made you sound like some kind of deranged lunatic.

Going about your evening, you make dinner, choosing to eat in front of the TV to watch a two-hour-long YouTube documentary on some TV show you’d never seen.

You didn’t realise you’d fallen asleep on the couch after eating until you were startled awake by the piercing sound of a siren. Sitting bolt upright, you look around the room and try to make sense of your surroundings. Reality sank in after a moment—that you were in your living room, and the fire alarm was going off. You couldn’t smell smoke and wondered if this might just be a test, realising, however, the unlikeliness of that scenario when you look out of your window to see nothing but the pitch black sky. Still unsure if there was a real risk of fire or not, you think to check the hallway. If the other residents of the building were leaving, you would too.

Already hearing numerous footsteps and murmuring voices before you even reach the door, you look through the peephole to see, yes, every resident of the complex was evacuating. You curse under your breath and slip your sneakers on—the only shoes nearby that were able to be slipped on quickly without needing to undo the laces. You open your door and lock it behind you once you enter the hall, following the steady stream of bodies down the flights of stairs and out into the night.

“Fuck,” you curse; the cold air hits you first, then the rain. The weather didn’t even cross your mind before you came out in the clothes you wore to sleep—comfy shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Wrapping your arms around yourself in a feeble effort to protect yourself from the chill, you go to stand out in the rain with everybody else.

“Is it a real fire?”

“I thought I smelled smoke on the way down.”

“Really, which floor?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I didn't smell anything.”

“It’s probably the old man on floor five again. The one that fell asleep with a lit cigarette and had us all out here at the crack of dawn waiting for the firefighters.”

“Or the woman, what’s her name? The one that left candles burning all night and her curtains caught fire.”

You’re pulled out of the hum of conversation by someone shouting your name. Whipping your head around to see Noah jogging towards you as carefully as he could in his slides.

“Hey!” you call, moving away from the crowd to meet him. “What’s going on? Do you know what happened?”

“No idea,” he sighed, looking you up and down, “what are you wearing?”

“Oh, I-” feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you become acutely aware of how you were dressed in front of him, “I was asleep.”

“You’re gonna freeze. Here,” he takes his hoodie by the hemline, crossing his arms and pulling it over his head, turning it right side out after the garment was off. “Have this.”

“No! No, it’s fine. I’m okay, really! I’m not even that cold.”

“It’s raining, and you’re shivering. Put the hoodie on. It’s okay,” he bunches up the hoodie, aligning the neck hole and the bottom so he can easily slide it over your head. “Put your arms in. There.”

The hoodie was warm. And smelled comforting—a pleasant mix of his laundry detergent and cologne. It was huge on you and came down to about mid-thigh, covering your shorts entirely. “I- thank you, Noah. I’ll give it back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, pulling the hood up over your head and tucking the damp strands of your hair inside. The sound of the rain around you dampened to a soft fuzz through the fabric.

The sound of sirens in the distance drew everybody's attention, the bright red truck pulling into the parking lot and stopping right outside the building by the crowd of people. Noah puts an arm around your shoulder, pulling you back out of the way of the crew and off to the side. You hope it’s too dark to see the telltale blush burning your cheeks.

“Does anybody know what happened?” the first person off the firetruck shouts. The crowd murmurs amongst themselves again, looking between each other and shrugging their shoulders.

As the crew disembarks the vehicle and prepares their equipment, you turn to Noah to find him already looking at you. Only in a t-shirt and sweatpants, you can see now just how extensively tattooed he is. The only times you’d seen him, he’d been wearing a hoodie or a long-sleeved shirt, but now you could see both of his tattoo sleeves, and how his neck piece covered the whole front of his throat. “How’ve you been? It’s been a while,” he asks.

“Yeah, good,” you look up at his eyes, the hood shielding your eyes from the rain, “haven’t been too busy. What about you?”

He nods, “Been good. I’ve been busy though. Kind of hectic with work.”

“Oh, what do you do for work?”

“I’m a musician, actually,” he ducks his head to hide his shy smile, looking back up at you while he shifts from one foot to the other. “I’m in a band. We’re releasing a new single soon, so there’s a lot of preparation. Lots of stuff to do.”

You can’t help but smile at his demeanour. Being in a band made so much sense; what with the tattoos? He seemed like a creative guy. “That’s so cool! What do you do in the band?”

“I’m the vocalist. Kind of like you,” he kicks your shoe teasingly with his, a sly smile on the corner of his lips as water begins to drip from his hair.

“I- what?” You question, “what do you mean?”

He breaks out into a laugh, not a cruel one, teasing. Amused by something that apparently only he knew. “I like Aurora too.”

All at once, it hits you. “Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face with the sleeves of his hoodie. “You can hear me singing in the shower?!” Contemplating running back inside the potentially burning building.

“I’m only joking. Hey, I’m sorry,” he takes you by the shoulders, “your singing is very good. I like it.”

“I wanna die,” your voice comes muffled by the fabric, but you can hear him laugh again just fine. You continue to hide even when he tries to pry your arms away from your face; if the blush wasn’t visible before, it definitely would be now.

You’re gratefully pulled out of your shame by the fire chief’s voice echoing across the parking lot.

“All clear, folks! Kids pulled the fire alarm, you can all go back inside!” The volume of the crowd peaks again, irritated voices muttering as the mass of bodies filter through the door back inside, shaking off raindrops as they go.

You and Noah follow slowly, not wanting to get caught up in the crowd. “I am sorry,” he says sincerely, turning to you. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I really was just joking.”

With an awkward laugh, you shake your head and wave him off, “I’m not offended. Just fucking embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. I meant it, your voice is nice. I’d be putting in a noise complaint if it sounded bad.”

You smiled and looked down at your feet, droplets of water running down your legs.

After what felt like too long, you make it back to your floor. Taking the stairs while everyone else waited for the elevator. Once you reached your joint floor, you both paused in the hallway, unsure what to say and hesitant to part.

“I’ll-”

“Do you-”

“Sorry!” you burst out, “go ahead.”

“I was going to say, do you want to come over one day? I can show you my music, maybe we could have dinner? I’d love to get to know you better.”

Speechless for a second, you stare at his face. He’d pushed his wet hair back out of his eyes, giving a completely different, cleanly handsome aspect to his appearance. His black shirt—soaked through—clung to his skin. But his expression was earnest, his eyes showing no evidence of that teasing look he had back outside. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll get your hoodie back to you too. I’ll-”

“Don’t worry about it, seriously. Looks good on you.”

“Okay,” you duck your head to hide your grin, turning towards your door, “I’m gonna go dry off.”

“Wait!” He pats his legs, feeling his pockets and fishing his phone out of the right side, “can I have your number?” He taps for a few seconds, looking up quickly, then averting his gaze just as quickly. He holds out his phone eagerly, open on an empty contact page.

Grin still wide on your face, you wordlessly take his phone, typing in your name and adding your number. “There. I even put my birthday in so you can give me a card too.”

Noah looks down at his new contact; he too grinning as he locks and pockets his phone. “I’ll add it to my calendar. And I’ll text you so we can arrange that da- Uh the, you coming over.”

Not missing the slip of his words, you decide not to comment on it, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over your hands and fiddling with the fabric. “Sounds good. I’m gonna,” you gesture over your shoulder to your door.

He replies with a soft “yeah” and does the same.

“Goodnight, Noah.”

“Night. See you around.”

Praying he doesn’t see you fumble with your keys, you quickly slip into your apartment, seeing his shoulders disappear through his own doorway just as you close your door.

You lean against the cold wood of the door once it’s locked, head resting back. Your smile is unrestrained now, your cheeks beginning to ache after a couple of seconds. “Oh my God,” you whisper to yourself. Shaking your head to try and regain some composure.

Reluctantly, you pull off his hoodie. The fabric was almost soaked through from the rain and desperately needed to be hung up to dry. Getting a hanger from your room, you thread it through the neck and head into your bathroom to hang it on the shower curtain railing. You smooth down the fabric, squeezing out some water onto the floor, and get the chance to look at the design for the first time.

It wasn't just a basic black hoodie; it had small, red text embroidered across the centre of the chest that read “I can’t be saved” and had stylised designs of birds shot through with arrows on each sleeve. It wasn’t common to see hoodies with designs on the sleeves, but you liked this one a lot. Flipping it around, it read “OMENS” in large, dark grey text across the back-shoulder area. With a subtle smile on your face, you turn off the light and take yourself back to your bedroom.

Changing into different clothes to sleep in, you discard the damp ones in your laundry basket. Just about managing to put your phone on charge on the side table before the drowsiness hits you when you lay down in the comfort of your sheets. You snuggle down and let your eyes drift closed, ready for sleep to take you when your phone pings.

The screen illuminates your room and hurts your eyes when you unlock it. You slide the brightness down and immediately smile when you see who the notification is from.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]

— Hey it’s Noah!

— Sleep well :)

#take a shot every time I say “box” or “boxes”#14 #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #fluff #C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ASK #C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT #C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/FLUFF

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what-the--curtains · 4 years

Text

Not a Piece of Art

Part 2/5 - The Dinner Party

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re invited to the targets house for dinner, will they see through your act? Or can you keep your hatred hidden for long enough to get the information you need?

Authors note: Thank you for all the lovely comments and likes and reblogs💕❤️! I’ve been feeling kinda bleh recently so I apologize for it taking so long and I’m also sorry if it’s crap but I’m pretty happy with the story line (also there’s gonna be a follow up to this series for sure). Anyways hope y’all are keeping well and thank you for reading!!

Warnings: THIS STORY WILL BE 18+ starting next chapter (minors DNI) . For now it’s just swearing and allusions to abusive relationships

Word count: 5.7k

Tagged: @trash-dino-5000 @diogodxlot @agingerindenial

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You watch the moving trucks hired by the DEA to facilitate your luxurious, but imaginary lifestyle roll up the driveway one after the other. Each truck opened to reveal piece after piece of expensive furniture better suited to the silver screen than your real life adding to the dysphoria you'd been feeling over the past few days. You were now living and enjoying someone else's life, a fact that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Though the anxiety you were feeling was likely due to the very real threat of being murdered, and not the lavish home decor you were now in possession of. If there was one thing to be thankful for it was your close proximity to the water, you’d been landlocked for too long. Peace washes over you as you watch the water break against the cliff face. You turn towards the target's house gazing up to the balcony on the third floor. The doors are swung open and a woman in white stands with her arms outstretched on the railing, standing like a queen overseeing her kingdom. You were being watched. You lift your hand up to block out the sun, hoping to get a better look at her, but she's gone by the time you do.

Noticing the overwhelmed look plastered on your face as the trucks arrived Javier decided he would take on directing the movers. Only calling for your help when furniture needed to be placed, as interior design was admittedly not in his wheelhouse.

“You know where that goes?” Javi asks the movers, lighting up a cigarette and placing it between his lips. The movers nod as they lug the enormous mattress inside. He turns scanning the landscape to locate your whereabouts, you'd been all over the place this morning. Whether you were playing into the spacey artist trope or the pressure was finally getting to you he wasn’t really sure. Either way he wanted to make this transition as easy as possible for you, and considering you weren't a field agent it was also his responsibility to keep you safe. He spots you near the walkway that leads down to the ocean, a gentle breeze blows in from the beachfront causing the linen dress wrapped around you to part just above your thigh. There's a relaxed smile etched on your face, resulting in a calm that Javi had never witnessed emanating from you before.

An arm snakes around your waist and you lean into it for a moment before remembering who it belonged to causing your body to instinctively retract. You push back off his chest and watch as Peña shakes his head in quiet frustration before turning back towards the moving trucks. You chew your lip, you knew you had to do better at acting the part you’d been ordered to play. If you didn’t this mission would be over before it even started. Memorizing your alias was easy enough as was adopting the british accent, but acting in love with Peña. That was where it all fell apart, but if there was one thing you knew for sure it was that you did your best work under pressure. You swallow hard as the last few trucks slip away down the driveway. The notion of being left alone with Peña for the first time was an anxiety not even the ocean could sooth. With a deep breath you will your legs to move towards your new home which is currently looking more like a cell. You walk by Peña who snuffs out his cigarette in the dirt before following you inside.

“Why would two people ever need a house this big?” he asks, closing the door behind you, his voice bouncing off the marble walls.

“So they never have to see each other.” you offer, running your hand along the granite countertops.

“That felt targeted,” he says, watching your hands movement intently.

“It wasn’t, at least not intentionally. You notice how this whole back wall is glass? Weird design choice” you remark, trying to open up a civil dialogue with him.

“Probably built it so they can keep tabs on the neighbours” he offers coming up behind you, standing a little too close for comfort.

“Why build a house across from yours if you're trying to be undetected?” you ask, turning around nearly colliding with his chest, huffing at the inconvenience before maneuvering around him.

“If you were a federal agent and a big empty house was available for a stake out would you take it or would you go for the rocky beach or bug infested forest? Keep your enemies close, they expect the feds to show up here, so they make it easy to monitor” he explains, in a surprisingly uncondescending way.

“Hadn’t thought about that” you admit.

“Don’t teach you everything in those fancy buildings with ivory towers” he chuckles, as he sits down on one of the couches.

“Never claimed that they did” you retort “did they bring any food in?” you ask, moving towards the fridge.

“Not sure, figured the kitchen was your domain, can you bring me a beer” Javi says, the subtle misogyny fueling the rage simmering inside you.

“I’m sorry what exactly did your last servant die of?” You snap back.

“What? We’re supposed to keep up appearances” he responds calmly from the couch, feet crossed on the coffee table that cost more than your yearly rent.

“And what exactly is my appearance supposed to be? The domesticated housewife who brings you beer, cooks you dinner and sucks you off?” you respond, rage finally boiling over.

“Well I hadn't asked for that last one yet but...”

“Unbelievable! You can cook for yourself Peña. I'm not your wife and im definitely not your fucking mother”

“You certainly nag like her. Seriously a beer, it's not asking much” he demands.

“You know...” you say opening the fridge and pulling out a beer walking it over to him “I don't know if you’ve heard...” you continue, nudging his feet off the table with your calves as you place the beer down “of these amazing things...” you say, kneeling down, parting his legs and rising up between them, making eyes at him as you slowly run your hands up his thighs. “Called legs!” you state slapping your palms down on his thighs smiling as the growing smirk on his face quickly disappears “You should try using them sometime” you finish standing back up, grabbing the beer from the table and heading back into the kitchen to cook yourself, and only yourself, dinner. You'd managed to stay out of each other's hair for the rest of the evening, but another blowout ensued when it came to figuring out your sleeping situation.

“C'mon you don't have to be such a...” Javi exclaims calmly

“Such a what Peña?” you ask watching him bite his tongue “No please finish that sentence. I’d love to hear what thought provoking and truly innovative ideas you have about me.” You retort

“Just get in the bed” he pleads, lifting up the sheets and motioning his hand towards it.

“With you? I'd rather be shot” you state.

“Keep acting like this and your wish may just get granted sweetheart” he says through gritted teeth, the petulant show you were putting on wearing thin.

“Newsflash Peña! They can’t see us in here, so I think I'll take my chances on the couch” you assumed it was far enough away from the windows to keep you from prying eyes.

“Your fucking funeral” he shouts down the hall, watching you storm off with an armful of sleepwear you'd brought from home. The sleepwear was not flattering nor did it fit into the rich aesthetic you were currently upholding, but at this point, you didn't care. You'd chosen the oversized band shirt and basketball shorts because they hid your body away from prying eyes. Not that Peña would be looking, you hardly qualified as his type. You flop down on the couch rolling your eyes at the beer bottles he’d left there, likely for you to clean up. Irritated you fall asleep, cursing the couch for being inexplicably the most uncomfortable thing you'd ever had the misfortune of sitting on.

Your woken as the doorbell sounds throughout the house startling you so badly that you fall off the couch with a loud thud. “Shit!” you curse realizing it was likely the target. As quick as you can, you strip off your pyjamas and throw on the robe you had snatched in a hurry last night, only just realizing it was practically sheer. You yawn as you open the door to a beautiful woman who you immediately recognize as the target's wife, Helena. Presumably the same woman who you had seen on the balcony yesterday. She looked every bit a billionaire's wife with her hair neatly styled, 6 inch heels and perfect makeup while you, well you currently looked, and smelt, like you’d slept in a sewer.

“Hi im Helena, we saw you move in yesterday, we live next door.”

“We?” you ask squinting into the early morning light as another yawn escapes your lips

“Me and my husband” She says looking past you towards the couch where you had slept. Shit. Peña was not going to let you live that one down. Speaking of the devil, he appears from the bedroom in an open robe, and very thin linen pants, a look that made you realize why so many women were easily charmed by him.

“Cara mia, who's at the door?” he asks, eyes darting to the obviously slept in couch before settling on the beautiful woman standing before him. A woman who'd have his full attention if it wasn't for the transparent robe clumsily wrapped around your body.

“Our new neighbor” you say, refraining from using a cutesy nickname afraid you'd choke on it.

“Forgive my wife, she hasn’t been sleeping well” he says, coming over and wrapping himself around you, kissing the top of your head, before resting his chin on it.

“I find I sleep best when next to my husband” she responds offering Javi a megawatt smile which he returns.

“Maybe if your husband doesn't snore like an elephant” you respond sleepily with a soft laugh. You were surprised how well the british accent rolled off your tongue despite the early hour.

“Mine does as well, shakes the whole house! The things we put up with when we are truly in love are amazing” shes says, reigniting your anxiety “We want you to come for dinner, we've hired a chef” she continues.

“We’d love to, always good to know the neighbours, we like to make sure we're keeping good company” Javi reponds.

“Excellent, lets say, 7:30, be on time, my husband doesn't like to be kept waiting.” The second the door shuts you wiggle out from his grasp and make your way over to the kitchen pouring yourself, and only yourself, some coffee, still tired from the piss poor sleep you'd gotten last night. At least this time it wasn’t because you had to listen to someone having rigourous sex through the walls.

Javier follows close behind snatching the cup from your hands and taking a sip, knowing full well it wasn’t meant for him. He watches your eyes bulge slightly and your jaw tightens before you storm off into the bedroom to change out of the see through robe, much to his dismay.

“We need to go over the plan for tonight,” he says from the kitchen.

“Alright what is it?” you ask emerging in one of the many luxurious outfits provided to you.

“We’ll scout it out, find the room where they keep the paintings nd take the samples you need.”

“Ya” you say “and how exactly am I supposed to sneak in test tubes filled with liquid that traces drugs. ” you ask

“Bring a purse? I don't know. You're the genius you figure it out” he shrugs.

“I could wear a long skirt and strap them to my legs?”

“No they'll know you're hiding something,” he says, shooting down your idea.

“Purse it is then” you respond. “If they come back positive then what?”

“We can figure that out later, but i'll drop hints that the money I've made has been done in less than legal ways, and mention your outstanding knack for counterfeiting. Oh and wear something short tonight” he says “More to see means less to hide” he offers when he sees you glaring at him. “ and no scowling at me while we're in there, unless you really want to blow it” he laughs, your hatred for him almost comical at this point.

“What am I supposed to do when you're being insufferable then” you dig, with a wide fake smile.

“Save them up for later, besides it won't be me in there with you, it'll be my character, who you don’t hate.”

7:00pm

You change into a burgundy dress with an open back that falls well above your mid thigh, its length hardly covering you. You make a note not to bend over throughout the night, as you sling on the high heels that cost more than all your shoes combined. You grab the swabs and plastic bags needed to keep them sterile and stuff them into your purse before slipping on your wedding ring, and exiting into the kitchen.

“Alright, how do I look?” you ask, reopening the purse and re organizing the material inside it. When you finally look up you’re taken aback. Peña's usual attire of tight jeans and button up t shirt’s had been replaced by a stunning velvet pastel coloured jacket worn over top, a partially unbuttoned silk dress shirt and black dress pants. He cleaned up well, very well.

Your prolonged look doesn't go unnoticed by Javi, nor does the way your eyes quickly dart back down to your purse when he meets your gaze. He refrains from making a snarky comment knowing it would only piss you off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do before infiltrating a highly dangerous situation.

“Perfect, hermosa” he says, he wasn’t lying about it either. He knew you weren’t really listening to what he was saying, but god if you didn't look perfect tonight. Pretending to be in love with you would be easy enough for him, he hoped you’d be able to maintain the act as well. He watches as you move gracefully around him in heels that were working exceptionally well at emphasizing your... assets. He averts his eyes when you reach up for a bottle of wine knowing that more than you’d want him to see would be out.

“You know I can speak Spanish, right?” you say, a small smile creeping on your lips before quickly disappearing back into the cold facade you were determined to keep up against him.

“Well, I do now” he laughs, slightly embarrassed he got caught out complimenting you sincerely. He slides on his wedding band and escorts you out the door.

“God how do people walk in these for more than 15 mintues” you mutter, your feet already killing you. You almost regretted pushing Peñas arm away when he’d offered it to you earlier. Approaching the house you feel his hand wrap around your waist and you lean into him in an attempt to take some pressure off your feet. He rings the doorbell, lowering his hand as he hears the heels approaching from down the hall. Lifting up the hem of your dress he begins rubbing small circles over your thigh with his thumb. Any other time and you'd have broken his hand without a second though, but it fell well within the contract you’d had him sign detailing exactly where and when he was allowed to touch you.

“Welcome” Helena says as she opens the door in an equally revealing dress. She leads you through the enormous entrance way and into the main foyer, gazing up you see balconies on each level overlooking the large ballroom area. Your amazement at the house was cut short as you turned to see Peña who was currently only paying attention to Helena's fine architecture. If your eye rolls wouldn't give your true feeling for eachother away, his ogling certainly might. You elbow him harshly in ribs causing his hand to inadvertently dig deeper into your skin. His grip releases as Helena's husband enters into the room grabbing her and kissing her deeply for just long enough that both you and Javier feel uncomfortable.

“Welcome” he booms after separating from Helena, grasping Javis hand in his. You can see the veins in his arm bulge, as he clamps down on Peñas hand in a bizarre play for dominance.

“Here” you say offering him the wine, causing him to release his grip “Your home is as stunning as your wife” you smile as he looks down at the bottle reading its label.

“This one’s from a good year! Neither of our wives were even born then, lucky for us” he laughs, winking at you “We’ll have it with dinner.” he continues, pulling Javi into his side and walking him towards the bar.

Helena smiles at you and raises her eyebrows, rolling her eyes at her husband's behaviour. “Come now, alcohol will get us through the night” she states, leading you down the hallway. You knew her suspicions were high, and it wasn't lost on you that she’d likely shared her feelings with her husband, but she was being remarkably kind, which only added to your concern.

“Drink? What’s your poison, Carino?” Carlos demands of you. He was larger than life in both stature and personality, charming but in a terrifying way.

“I do believe he's talking to you love” you joke, smiling up at Javi earning a laugh from Helena.

“Whiskey, neat.” he says, you couldn't tell if Carlos was amused or upset by your disobedience, but the way Peña was currently pulling you discreetly out of Carlos’ reach made you think it was the latter.

“I usually don't ask twice, but for someone so beautiful and so clever, I'll make the exception. Though just his once” Javis grip around you relaxes and you flash Carlos a smile.

“Gin and tonic, if you don't mind”

“Any preference” he asks.

“Dealers choice”, you say, offering him back the control which seems to cut the tension and it's not long before he’s once again laughing with Javi.

“We're glad to have neighbours again '' Carlos says “especially ones who seem so agreeable.” His approval doesn’t relax you. Approval wasn’t trust and you’re well aware that this was just as much an interrogation as it was a dinner party. Carlos takes a seat in one of the upholstered armchairs gesturing for Javi to join him. Helena nods her head towards the couch and you follow her lead. Your eyes are quickly pulled off her when Peña yanks you down onto his lap.

“Darling!” you exclaim thanking the lord you didn't use his real name by mistake. “I could have spilled this very expensive drink all over this very expensive chair, I'm so sorry! I'd say he's not usually like this but...”

“I understand his need to have a beautiful woman in his arms as often as possible, it's why I'm on my fourth wife!” he boasts.

“I'm hoping i'll stick.” Helenea says, holding her drink up as she gazes lovingly over to Carlos, though something behind her eyes told another story. Perhaps you weren't the only one harbouring a secret hatred. “I'm hoping you’ll both stick as well. Neighbours can be problematic, nosy even, our last ones were before they...moved” Helena says from the couch

“Hard to imagine someone tiring from living in the house. It's beautiful, did you build it?” you ask

“Paid for it, but Helena designed it the whole thing, she's very gifted.” Carlos brags.

“I'd have to agree with that,” Javi says, smiling at her which she returns, a flirtation playing on both their faces. Javis hands may be on you but his eyes were on her and if you were picking up on it Carlos certainly had as well. You jump slightly when the server enters the room to inform the group that dinner was ready.

Javi pulls out a chair for you and you sit down placing your hand on his as he takes his seat next to you. The meal was the best you ever had, five delicious courses each one more decadent than the last.

“You don’t take her out to many five star restaurants? It seems as if she's never eaten such a meal!” Carlos excalims. Evidently you were doing a piss poor job at hiding your delight.

“I'm still getting used to the lifestyle if i’m honest. Though I imagine a meal such as this is still rare, even at the most expensive restaurants” you say before Javi can respond for you, the recovery impressing him slightly.

“You should have seen what she was eating before I met her, back when she was a starving artist” Javi says, as you bring a hand up to rub along the velvet jacket covering his broad shoulders.

“The billionaire and the starving artist, now I must know. How did you come to find each other?” Helena asks.

“My art dealer went to New York and brought back one of her paintings, it came with a photo and after seeing it I knew I had to have her, if she’d take me”

“And how did an old man like him convince a sweet young thing like you to marry him?” Carlos asks.

“No convincing needed, not when he sent thousands of my favourite flowers to my studio before showing up at the door himself. Any man willing to put that much time and money towards meeting me deserves a date. At least in my books and he’s continued to prove himself to me ever since.” You gaze up at him lovingly, so convincing that for a moment even he forgets you hate his guts.

“What are they? Her favorite flowers?” Helena probes, earning a grunt from Carlos presumably displeased with his wifes intrusiveness.

“Sunflowers. They're hard to find in New York, especially in the winter, I had to ship them from California.” Your gaze of faux adoration turns quickly to genuine surprise. How had he known what your favourite flowers were? It wasn't outlined in your character profile and you'd certainly never told him.

“I’ve seen the piece, its beautiful, your wifes very talented,”

“You should see her school portfolio, copies of works that were almost exact replicas of the originals. She possesses the talent of a hundred artists before her”

“You flatter me. Copying is a technique used to learn, but it's no measure of true artistry or creativity” you laugh. “When did you see my work, were you in New York?”

“Oh no I'm an art dealer myself, but I have people go to places for me. Your work was passed over my desk a few weeks ago.” Carlos explains.

“Perhaps I could paint you something then I would finally have a truly unbiased critic” You watch as Carlos slowly nods his head, contemplating your offer.

‘You’ll have to see our art collection, we have pieces here from all over the world” Helena says,

“How long have you been in the business?’ you ask, taking Carlos as a man who liked to show off

“longer than you've been alive” he says winking at you.

“Well I can only imagine what pieces you must have , you've proven to have exquisite taste, in all areas of life.” you smile eyes briefly darting to Helena.

“Helena show her the gallery would you, I wish to speak with my friend here in private”

“Will you be joining us later?” Helena asks, causing him to grunts out a yes before pulling Javi into another room to talk about god knows what. She leads you up to the second floor, each step you take causing a sharp pain to shoot down your foot’s arch.

“You get used to the heels, small price to pay for the lifestyle. Walking around in them in the house for a while helps.” she explains.

“Thank you” you say. “Somedays I dont think I'll ever really acclimatize to the lifestyle.” She leads you into a large room, greek style pillars run through the middle while art from around the world lines the walls. If the pieces were real this room was worth millions.

“How does your family feel about you living here? It must be hard them being so far away in England”

“I uhm...I... don’t have any.” You can feel her eyes boring into you assessing the answer you just gave her. “They passed, when I was 19” you continue turning to meet her gaze.

“I'm so sorry. To lose them so young must have been devastating, but I don't need to tell you that, do I” she says, shaking her head. You nod swallowing hard gazing back to the paintings. “Lucky he found you I suppose, and such a handsome man at that. Many billionaires are.... not.”

“Lucky for us both then” you say, moving along the wall “these painting are beautiful, I envy you being surrounded by such formidable pieces, and only a walk away”

“Yes'' she says, as if she doesn't care. She's watching you intently, trying to suss out where your loyalties lied, your lack of descriptive fondness for your husband suddenly seemed like a poor choice on your part. Before she can ask another question you hear Carlos yell out for her, the noise startling you both, so much so that her hand clamps down on your wrist.

“Duty calls” she says, composing herself and relaxing her grip on you.

“Should I come with you?” you ask, playing into the deer in headlights trope which seemed to have an effect on Helena.

“No, he asked for just me. I don't like to disobey him, he's not a kind man when not listened to.”

“Are you safe here” you ask.

“As long as I don’t cause trouble I should be.” she affirms.

“Well, you're welcome at ours, at any time. If anything happens, even if it doesn't you can stay with us. Heavens knows we have the room.” you say sincerely, the concern coming from you, not your character. Helana nods offering you a soft smile squeezing your hand before leaving the room.

“See how obedient she is, how compliant, she's perfect, don’t you think!” Carlos says

“Hard to argue with that,” Javi responds, giving her a once over.

“And beautiful yes, c'mon you are married not dead” he prompts when Javi doesn't respond immediately

“Very much so” he says, smiling at Helena before turning to Carlos who was intent on showing off his wife in the most demeaning way possible.

“Was there something you needed love?” Helena asked. She was used to her husbands showing her off to other men, but she was growing tired of it. She was involved in her husband's work, primarily in the organization making sure everything ran smoothly, she knew if it didn't she would inevitably be to blame. She valued her life, so she learnt fast, adapted like a pro. Four years later and her husband hadn’t offed her yet. She was a mastermind in a career she had been inadvertently forced into, but a mastermind nonetheless. To her husband she was nothing more than a trophy, but better to be that than a punching bag.

“A word in private” he says, gesturing to her with a come hither motion.

“Your wifes in the art room, up the stair, down the hall to the left, take the drink with you, we won't be a moment” He says, his eyes telling Javi to vacate the room. He lets out a grumble as he closes the door behind him. He shakes his head, swirling the whiskey as he walks towards the gallery. He’d fumbled tonight by not making it clear that he only had eyes for his wife, a hard task considering Helena, who he realized too late was likely meant to see if his gaze could be easily swayed. Which it had. All thoughts about any other woman cease to exist when he walks into the gallery and sees you bent over swabbing a painting. Something about watching you in your element had always been mesmerizing to him. It’s why he was always dropping off files for you, the task could easily be outsourced, but he enjoyed watching you maneuver with ease around the various machines.

“You should be more careful querida,” he says, chuckling as you jump back.

“Watch the door, would you? I've got two more to do” he leans back against the frame, one eye on the door, one eye on you watching as you meticulously swab the remaining paintings. “All good, you don’t think they keep cameras in here?” you ask, closing up your purse.

“No. Cameras are easy to hack.” he says nonchalantly, as he comes over to you stopping at your side looking up at the painting, suddenly understanding people's fascination with art. You grab the drink from his hand and take a sip placing it back down on the empty pedestal propping yourself up along with it when you hear footsteps approaching.

“Come here” you demand, and he does, eyes suddenly darker than before. He stops a few inches in front of you. “Closer” you beckon, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him into you. You drape your arms around his shoulder extending your neck allowing his mouth to graze lightly over the skin just in time for Helena and Carlos to witness it. You push him off you in pretend shock.

“Please, don’t stop on our account” Carlos laughs

“I'm sorry, god these pieces must be worth thousands and here I am sitting on one” you say hoping the act wasn’t too transparent.

“Don’t apologize, a work of art belongs on a pedestal” Carlos says, the complementing causing Javis jaw to noticeably clench. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for, maybe they would buy this relationship after all.

“We should probably be going, once she starts it's hard to get her to stop,” Javi says.

“So that’s how she trapped you” the husband responds, the entire exchange causing you to cringe internally. You hop down off the stool as Javi finishes the whiskey offering the glass to Helena who takes it before leading you towards the front door.

“We must do this again soon,” she says settling into Carlos’ arm

“Perhaps at ours next time?” You offer

“A generous offer, but we prefer to entertain.” He says

“Then I look forward to seeing you soon, especially if another meal like that is in store” As you exit the mansion Javi makes sure his hand is visibly running over your body, but you slap it away the second you can.

“Ouch” he says, shaking out the hand, the rings on your fingers leaving a particular sting on his skin.

“Suck it up” you respond, having had enough of him for the night.

“Cut the shit, your attitude problem is going to get us killed” he whispers through gritted teeth.

“I don’t have an attitude problem. I just have a problem with you” You say, turning to face him and prodding a finger into his chest “ and don’t act like you ogling his wife was helping our case either. Ya I slipped up tonight, but so did you, so shoulder some of the blame you’re throwing my way.”

“Jealousy’s a nice colour on you” he laughs, knowing how riled up it would get you.

“Ha!” you fake laugh “ because it's jealousy and not the fact that your inability to keep it in your pants is going to get me killed.” You exclaim as you enter the kitchen grabbing down a glass and chugging some water before going into the art room where you were storing the testing kits.

You? Jealous? Of what exactly. What did he think he had to offer that would make you want or need to be the subject of his attention. Attention he gave to anything that walked or batted its eyelashes at him. Jesus he was insufferable, you hated that he had this notion that your anger was based on jealousy and not multiple interactions where he'd failed to impress you. Even if you had come off as jealous it was all a part of the act. He had been acting jealous throughout the night, did he think you weren't competent enough to do the same? You had three degrees for fucks sake, you deserve some credit. “Fucking asshole” you mutter, the manifestation of the words helping you to calm down enough to dip the q tips in the liquid, sure enough, they came back positive the paintings had been near drugs, you’d tell Peña about that later. You see the light on in the bedroom as you exit the “art room” and you head towards it determined to get one last punch in before going to bed.

Javier had just settled into the enormous bed he had the luxury of having all to himself, moments away from flicking the light switch when he notices your figure in the door frame.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks

“I think he's abusive, the husband you were getting along with so nicely” you spit out, the venom intended to question his character in a hurtful way, but it doesn't seem to phase him.

“It's the job to get friendly with the monsters, doesn't mean I like them” he reasons

“I told her she could come here if anything happened, so we’ll have to hide this stuff a bit better” you remark, turning your failed attempt to get one last dig in, into a valid reason for starting up a conversation.

“Guess you'll have to stop sleeping on the couch then” he smirks. Check mate. Your eyes bore into the bed you had just talked yourself into sharing with Javier Peña.

#javi x y/n #javier pena x reader #javi x you #javi x reader #javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #narcos fanfic #narcos #enemies to lovers

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marchtomydrums · 3 years

Text

In the beginning 8

Alex Cabot X Casey Novak X Reader

Rated M

It’s Saturday where as you had the whole day off Casey and Alex had to work. It was just some afternoon meetings they promised they would be home earlier than usual. You used this day to rest and relax and being alone helps it’s very quiet in this big house. Sitting in the window nook reading a book Alex lent to you. Her collection is amazing and she’s promised to share it with you. You didn’t even notice Alex walk in or her head to the closet to change. It wasn’t until she was walking out of the closet in a old t-shirt and shorts till you noticed her. She smiles making her way over to you. Pushing your legs apart she lays down on her stomach between them her head laying down on your stomach. You smile running your fingers through her hair as you continue to read. It stays quiet for a while. Alex seems content with you playing in her hair.

“I missed you today.” She says face buried into your stomach. The vibrations caused you to giggle.

“I missed you too.”

She smiles leaving kisses on your belly causing you to squirm.

“Quit moving!” Alex laughs her kisses becoming more frequent.

“I’m sorry. It tickles.” You giggle. She laughs moving her kisses up your body. Moving her head in between your chest and the book so You’re now looking at her.

“Guess what.”

“What?” You chuckle.

“I love you.”

You throw my head back in laugher at her behavior. It shocks you how she’s such a bitch in the office but a teddy bear at home.

“I love you too.”

She smiles leaning in to kiss your lips. You return the kiss. It’s getting heated until you hear movement downstairs. Alex pulls back smiling.

“Casey’s home.”

“Let’s go get her.” You smile. Alex hops up dragging you along with her as the two of you run downstairs to greet Casey.

She’s in the kitchen of course looking over what you have. She definitely wasn’t prepared for the two bodies running towards her. Each of us wrap Casey in our arms scaring her for moment. Alex is wrapped around her back while You’re wrapped around her front. Casey chuckles “well hello to you too.”

You lean up to kiss her “I missed you.” She smiles kissing you back as Alex kisses her neck.

“You know a girl could get use this.” We laugh all standing there for a moment just enjoying each other’s company.

“Alright I’ve got to make dinner.” Casey says pulling away from us.

An hour later the three of us are sitting down eating dinner. We talked about work, and upcoming events, and office gossip. Once we were all finished Alex announces that we need to have a conversation. You must have a look on your face because she assures you it’s nothing bad.

“My love Casey and I have been talking and we’d like to ask you something. “ before You can speak Casey chimes in “you can say no or if it’s too soon we can wait it’s completely up to you.”

Looking between the two of them You nod waiting for their question.

“My love we would like to ask you to move in with us. “

“Here?”

Alex chuckles “yes here.”

“What about my place? “

“I can handle your lease and we can hire movers to move in whatever it is you want or need.”

“So I would pay rent?” You asked confused. They chuckle at your question. Casey leans over taking your hand in hers.

“Honey, Alex owns this penthouse. You wouldn’t have to pay anything. “

“But I can’t just live here for free.”

“Well we could come up with something or you can just pay for whatever you want. “

“She’s right my love you wouldn’t have to pay for anything and we can work out some boundaries and things like that.”

“Of course it’s up to you honey. Alex and I will be okay with whatever you decide. We just miss you when you aren’t here and we thought it would be easier.”

You nod listening to what they’re saying. While you do spend a lot of time here rather than your own home you still worry about living here for free. “I mean I don’t need them to take care of me but I want to be with them. I miss them too when we aren’t all together.” You think to yourself. Alex leans over to get your attention.

“You don’t have to answer right now. We can just watch a movie before we head to bed and you can decide whenever you’re ready okay?” Alex says to you trying to calm you.

“Okay.” You answer with a small smile.

As the three of you settle into the rest of the night you realize something. This is your home. Here on the couch with Alex and Casey watching horror movies and feeding each other popcorn this is what you crave after a long day. Once the movie is over the three of you head off to bed. You claim your spot in the middle snuggling deep into the expensive sheets. Casey cuddles you on one side and Alex on the other. You smile to yourself feeling silly for all of those worries you had running in your mind. You scoot down further on the bed so your at eye level with both women smiling at them.

“I’ll do it.” You whisper.

“Do what?” Alex asked almost asleep.

“I’ll move in with y’all.”

Casey smiles leaning in to peck your lips “really?” she asked.

You nod looking between the two of them. “This is my home. The two of you.”

Alex and Casey share a smile both snuggling into your body.

“Your our home too.” Alex whispers as the three of you fall to sleep.

#wlw love #casey novak x reader #lgbtq #fiction #law and order svu #law and order x reader #wlw #television #writing #stephanie march #diane neal #age difference #poly representation

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 3 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: Jackie embraces being gay not just in theory, but in practice, Brooke Lynn and Vanessa’s relationship inspires Nicky to take a new step in her relationship with Jan, and there’s a new girl in town who is both icy and spicy.

ao3 link

Jackie closed her eyes as she let her head sink into the pile of pillows on her bed. She exhaled softly as her hand moved down her body and slid into her cotton shorts. Relax. She tried to calm herself down to ease the tenseness in her body. You’ve done this hundreds of times. With nothing short of sheer willpower, she got herself to relax and press two fingers against her clit, rubbing in small circles.

A soft, pleased sigh slipped out, her body giving her the encouragement her mind withheld. She rubbed faster, pressed harder. In the past, she refused to let herself think about anything while she touched herself, or would find some heterosexual porn that she could stomach. But she was out now. She could think about girls. She wanted to think about girls.

Thinking about girls, however, only stayed in a generic sense for a few moments. Then her mind wandered to one in particular and before she could reel herself in, Jackie had a clear image in her mind.

Jaida.

Normally, Jackie would’ve stopped herself right there. Thinking about an employee in a sexual nature was wrong under any circumstance as far as she was concerned. But her arousal sparked an internal argument. “Just this once,” she decided, “just to get it out of my system.”

Jackie had seen Jaida on stage several times – she watched all of the girls, at least to audition them, then occasionally she’d watch them during a shift to see how they were doing. But it was always strictly business – she could appreciate the aesthetics of her girls without getting hot and bothered, or at least, not a distracting amount. But she’d always been especially attracted to Jaida, there were times when she couldn’t focus on a conversation between them because Jaida would still be half-naked and Jackie would be focusing all of her energy on maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck, Jaida…” Once Jackie had started, there was no turning back. Images of the other woman were burned into her mind, she couldn’t think of anything else if she tried. So, she embraced it, moaning as she alternated between rubbing her clit and fingering herself. It was more heightened, more intense, her body felt hot all over. And when she came, it was harder than she ever had before, her hips still twitching moments after she had finished.

She rolled onto her side, looking at her reflection in her mirrored closet door. The room was dark, but she was illuminated by moonlight. “Jesus, what are you Jackie, sixteen?” she chastised herself, the reality of her touching herself to someone she considered a friend hitting her then. She sighed, reminding herself that no one would ever find out about it, especially not Jaida.

——

“I want to ask you something,” Nicky said while she and Brooke Lynn were out for lunch. “When did you decide that you wanted to date Vanessa, instead of just hooking up with her?”

Brooke furrowed her brows and tilted her head as she thought. “It wasn’t right away, not because of her, but because I’m a creature of habit. We were sleeping together, I would slide her some extra money, it was just the system we had. I’m just lucky she wasn’t afraid to tell me how she felt because I’ve never been good with that sort of thing.”

Nicky looked a bit taken back. “She asked you out?” she asked, then paused. “That shouldn’t surprise me, actually. She seems like the type of girl that knows what she wants.”

“I’m glad she’s assertive,” she nodded. “People think she’s my sugar baby, but she’s not. She’s my girlfriend – she was fine before me and she’d be fine without me, we just prefer to be even better together. But anyway, why do you ask? Does this have to do with Jan?”

“Well… yes,” Nicky nodded. “We’ve been having sex nonstop for over a week and… I don’t know, what’s that brain chemical that comes out during sex? That makes you feel feelings?”

Brooke scratched her head. “Oxytocin?”

“Yeah, that,” she nodded. “I don’t know if it’s that, or if I have romantic feelings for her, but something is there. Something good is there.”

It brought a warm smile to Brooke’s face to hear how Nicky talked about Jan. It did remind her of herself when she started to realize she was starting to develop feelings for Vanessa. It was cute, in a way. “I can’t stress this enough – you need to communicate. Communication has been the ultimate saving grace, especially now with this whole Kameron thing.”

Nicky nodded. “You have a good point. How is the Kameron thing going anyway?”

Brooke pressed her lips together and strummed her fingers against the table. “It’s going alright. I mean, I trust Vanjie implicitly, so I don’t need to hear the details.”

“Have you considered getting to know her? Maybe you guys could be friends, avoid the awkward.”

She shrugged. The idea of befriending the woman her girlfriend was sleeping with seemed odd at best, but at the same time, she supposed it wasn’t the worst idea. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it. Right now, I think we just need to focus on moving her in.” And with that, she got up. “The movers are on their way, I’m gonna meet them and Vanjie at the apartment.”

Despite Vanessa’s insistence that she could move in on her own, Brooke had taken the liberty of hiring a moving company to get everything from her apartment to what would now be their penthouse.

“You are so fucking extra,” Vanessa chuckled as she watched two men carry boxes from the moving van into the elevator. “I don’t even got that much shit, we could’ve done this in an hour or two.”

“I know, but if we can make it easier, why not?” Brooke hummed, tipping the movers once the last of the boxes were upstairs. “Don’t worry, it’s still on us to unpack,” she assured with a laugh. She looked around her living room, now occupied with about seven boxes of Vanessa’s things. “Where do we begin, anyway?”

Vanessa chuckled. “You never had to unpack after a move before?”

Brooke shrugged, starting on one of the boxes. “It’s been a minute.” They unpacked quietly for a few minutes before she cleared her throat. “So, um, Nicky suggested I reach out to Kameron, maybe try to befriend her. I was considering it, but I wanted to know how you felt about that before I did anything.”

It wasn’t something that had occurred to Vanessa, catching her off guard for a moment. “I mean… I don’t got an issue with it. I think you guys would get along. Y’all are both pretty chill, kinda dorky in a way no one expects because you’re both so hot.”

Brooke grinned and looked down. “You sure know how to talk someone up, baby. I do think I’ll reach out to her, though. Couldn’t hurt.”

——

“Silk looks so good on you,” Nicky observed, watching Jan pose in front of the standing mirror in a black silk robe that came down just past her ass. All of her clothes were a bit smaller on Jan’s more curvy frame, which was undoubtedly why she loved letting her rummage through her wardrobe and try on what she liked.

Jan smiled and gave a bit of a twirl. “It feels nice too. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to normal bed sheets after rolling around in yours,” she mused with a light laugh. Once she tore her eyes from her reflection, her eyes casually scanned Nicky’s dresser. “You like diamonds an awful lot, don’t you?”

Nicky chuckled softly, getting out of bed and walking up behind her. “What’s not to like?” She picked up one of the necklaces and carefully, delicately put it on Jan. “See? Doesn’t it just make you feel radiant?”

“God, it’s like I’m in Pretty Woman,” she remarked as she looked at herself in the mirror.

While Jan laughed off her own comment, Nicky’s brows furrowed and she turned Jan around to face her. “Is that how you see yourself? Is that… how you see me?”

Jan tilted her head, taking on a more serious expression. “Do I see myself as an under-educated, low-ranking woman who needs someone rich to teach me how to behave and save me from a destitute lifestyle? Do I see you as a corporate asshole that doesn’t understand empathy or compassion? No, of course not.” She paused for a breath, relaxing a bit. “But do I see myself as a sex worker that doesn’t get to wear expensive clothes and jewelry and you as someone that has grown accustomed to their privilege? Yes. But I don’t think any of that is bad.”

Nicky gently cupped Jan’s cheek, stroking her thumb across her skin. “I do not want you to think I think less of you, or that I am trying to save you from being a stripper.”

“Good,” she smiled and put her hand on top of Nicky’s. “Because I don’t need saving. I’m here because I like you. I like how I feel when I’m with you.”

A wave of relief washed over Nicky. She had been so afraid that she had made Jan feel used or less than in any way. The more she thought about it, she realized she would have tried to pursue Jan regardless of where she met her. It just happened to be that the way they met allowed them to bypass certain courtship rituals, ones Nicky never liked to bother with anyway. “I like you too. Not just because of the sex, you bring this… energy into my life that has never been there before. But it makes everything better.”

“I think this is the part where you ask me to be your girlfriend,” Jan gently prompted after a beat of silence.

Nicky smiled and looked down, then back up at her. “Can I assume the answer is yes?”

She laughed and kissed her sweetly. “Of course.”

——

While the club was closed during the day, Jackie often found herself there for one reason or another. And, in turn, the employees knew there was a likely chance she would be there, should they need to find her. Jaida waved at the security camera, knowing that if Jackie were there, she’d see her from the screen in the back office.

Sure enough, Jackie let her in not a minute later. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I just got a quick question,” Jaida explained. Sure, it easily could’ve been done over text, but that was beside the point. “I been thinking about starting an OnlyFans page and I wanted to know if that was a conflict of interest.”

Jackie quickly shook her head. “Not at all, I admire your business mindset,” she assured, then checked her phone. “Hey, if you’re not busy, I’m about to start the auditions for new girls. Do you wanna stick around? It’d be great to have another set of eyes, and I trust your judgment.”

Jaida looked surprised but flattered. “I don’t have any plans, I’m down,” she nodded. “So what’s up? Is it just us watching them perform or is there an interview?”

“We’re just watching performances, for now, then we’ll decide who moves forward with an interview. That part’s boring, so I’ll handle it,” she assured as they sat and waited for the potential dancers to come in.

The first four girls came and went quickly, Jackie scribbled notes during most of each performance, while Jaida would make a few succinct ones at the end. “You ain’t hiring any of these straight girls are you?” she asked with a light laugh.

Jackie scoffed, her cheeks flushing red. “Jaida, I would never discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation. I just don’t think any of them would fit in here.”

Jaida rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Anyway I’m on this next girl’s Instagram and she got the rainbow flag emoji in her bio, so she’s got that going for her,” she scrolled through the pictures, “she got a fat ass too.”

“How do you know it’s her?”

She quirked a brow as if she were unable to process how someone as smart as Jackie could ask such a stupid question. “How many girls named fucking ‘Denali’ do you think there are?”

Jackie put her hands up in surrender. “Fair enough,” she acquiesced, then looked up when she heard the door open and a woman made her way over to them. “You must be Denali, right? You can go ahead and head up onto the stage for your routine if you’re ready,” she said in the calm, kind voice she used with all the potential dancers.

Even before Denali started dancing, both Jackie and Jaida noticed her stage presence. The way she stood and held herself conveyed confidence that they knew would translate well into any stripping routine. And when she did perform, they were captivated. It was clear that Denali was a dancer, that she knew her body and what to do with it. It was the only performance so far that they fully applauded her when she had finished.

“So,” Denali prompted as she redressed. “Should I expect a call back soon?”

——

“Guys!” Jan prompted cheerily as the rest of the dancers were getting changed after the shift, “we need to take Denali out to celebrate her first shift! Let’s go to Patty’s, my treat.”

“Your sugar mommy give you an allowance?” Gigi teased.

Jan huffed and rolled her eyes. “She’s not my sugar mommy, she’s my girlfriend. And no… she gave me a credit card. It’s much more responsibility because I’m a big girl. So do you wanna go or not?”

“Oh yeah no, I’m in,” Gigi readily assured. “Are you extending the invitation to the bartenders?”

“If you want Crystal to come, you gotta ask her yourself. We’re not facilitating this shit anymore,” Jaida cut in. “And we already know Pri would follow Lemon to the ends of the Earth anyway, so she’s covered.”

Gigi accepted her fate and left the dressing room to find Crystal while Lemon attempted to pick an argument with Jaida in her wake. “Hey, Crys, you busy?”

Crystal looked up at Gigi. “Honestly, I spaced out and have been cleaning the same glass for the past five minutes, so no. What’s up?”

“We’re going out to Miss Patty’s to like, indoctrinate Denali into our little cult or whatever. You want in? Nicky gave Jan a credit card, so we have a solid week before the inevitable regret sets in.

“Is there gonna be a blood oath? Because in that case, I’m definitely in. If not, I’ll settle for a slice of apple pie,” Crystal decided, grinning at the way her comments made Gigi laugh. It was the specific laugh she aimed for, where she would instinctively duck her head away in case she snorted, it filled Crystal with a sense of pride, and something else she couldn’t quite articulate.

And luckily she wouldn’t have to, as Priyanka came back from the kitchen mere seconds later. “Who’s taking a blood oath? I want in.”

By the time they made it to Miss Patty’s Diner, it was after two in the morning. While it was often a shift most waitstaff would avoid, the girls’ favorite waitress was genuinely happy to see them, and would even volunteer for the late-night shift in the 24-hour fifties-themed restaurant.

“How was the club, ladies?” Rosé asked, her notepad and pencil already in hand. “Business as usual? No one got kicked out for jerking off?”

“No code whites tonight, mama,” Jan replied with a light laugh. “But, we do have a new dancer with us, so we’re all out to give her a proper welcome,” she then turned to Denali, “Denali, this is Rosé. She’s the best, we won’t come here if she’s not working.”

Denali was barely listening to Jan, her eyes fixed squarely on the waitress, absentmindedly twirling her hair around her finger. “So nice to meet you.”

Rosé smirked, looking her over. “You too.” Though as she got a better look, her brows furrowed. “You look familiar…”

She let out a soft laugh as if it was a familiar remark to her. But she also appeared to bite her tongue and hold back. “You don’t say,” she hummed. “You spend any time in Chicago?”

“Not that I can recall. Give me some time, I’ll piece it together,” Rosé assured, then took down everyone’s order.

Once the group was alone, Jan could barely contain her enthusiasm. “Oh my god, I’ve never seen her act like that before. Denali, she was fucking into you, like, hardcore,” she clapped her hands together, nearly bouncing in her seat. “Wouldn’t they be cute together?” she asked the rest of the table, determined to prove she wasn’t the only one that picked up on the sexual tension.

“There was eye-fucking,” Lemon confirmed. “And it was reciprocal – you seemed really into her,” she said to Denali.

Denali was unbothered by the accusations. “She’s hot. And she looks like she’s kind of mean, but still approachable and low-key goofy. Which is my type to a T, basically,” she explained with a shrug.

“Where do you think she knows you from?” Crystal asked.

This time, Denali wasn’t as quick to answer. She wanted to see if Rosé would figure it out for herself, rather than having one of the girls spoil it. Though, given the circumstances, the answer wasn’t especially shocking. “Who’s to say?”

The conversation veered off into various other topics after that, and the rest of the meal went on without incident. But as they were leaving, Denali pulled Jaida aside. “Hey, you were talking about making an OnlyFans, right? Well, listen, being a cam girl has been my main gig for a while. I could help you get set up, figure out all the technical shit.”

Jaida nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great,” she said, then tilted her head. “You think that’s where Rosé recognized you from?”

“Probably. But I always wear a blonde wig. So, keep it on the down-low, I wanna see how long it takes for her to figure out.” What was the fun in moving to a new city if she couldn’t play a few games with someone that piqued her interest?

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lavishedinjimin · 5 years

Text

coffee break -> jhs

↳ pairing: hoseok x reader ↳ genre: mover!hoseok, fluff ↳ word count: 2.1k ↳ warnings: none — synopsis: Just a simple coffee break with the cute mover boy wouldn’t hurt at all -- right?

a/n: This is a little short oneshot idea that I had for Hobi! I hope you guys like it x

You didn’t know why you would think that moving to a new home was easy.

It wasn’t.

There were huge boxes and loads omnipresent as the moving company that you hired scurried everywhere to get everything done quickly. You had your hair up in a bun so that your hair wouldn’t disturb you as you were double-checking every detail.

“Excuse me miss—” a man carrying two medium-sized boxes say as he tried to move through the hallway.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you quickly move away, letting him pass.

Looking around you, it seems like everything was going smoothly. The house was getting emptier as each hour passes by. At this exact moment, you notice how large the area of your living room was without the huge unnecessary coffee table in the middle. That darn table – which did nothing as it only murdered your poor little toe every once in a while.

You walked out of the house and observed how they were transferring loads inside a large truck. People were constantly going in and out to get all the remaining items, and you tried to calm yourself down with the number of people around your house. Everything was happening so quickly for you to completely wrap your head around it.

On top of that, it was five in the morning, and you were yawning every three minutes.

“Wait, wait!” you stopped a man carrying a purple box that you intended to put your expensive china tea sets in. He pauses immediately and looks at you with a little smile.

“Don’t worry, miss Y/n, I know.” He gestures to the bold red letters that you wrote on top of the box – ‘PLEASE BE CAREFUL! THIS IS MORE EXPENSIVE THAN ANY OF OUR LIVES COMBINED’.

You laughed at yourself, slightly embarrassed as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Okay, I trust you—” your eyes fly to the name tag attached on his blue shirt, reading his name, “Hoseok.”

The man smiles wide, witnessing how his eyes turn into little crescents. He seemed to be the same age as you, his black hair parted in the middle, dimples appearing on his cheeks as he grins.

You didn’t know what it was, but there was something about his appearance that wanted you to know him better. He just looked like a person that anyone can get along with. You watch him place the box carefully inside the truck, placing it specifically against a corner, other boxes compelling against it so that it wouldn’t move along the ride. He smiles brightly at you once he was done, raising a thumbs up.

“How long have you lived here?” He suddenly asks, joining you as you walked back inside the almost-empty house. You cross your arms in front of your chest as you think. “About four years. I decided to move because this area is so far from my workplace, and I have to drive for a long time."

“Yeah, I understand. And especially with all the traffic and all that,” He speaks and you nod your head. “Mhmm, and I really hate it when I arrive late. But with the new house, the ride is only thirty minutes.”

Hoseok attentively listens. He has now ditched all of his responsibilities and was latched onto you like a fly over a lightbulb. Maybe it was how you looked with your hair up in a messy bun, or how the morning light shone over your face – illuminating it, he just thought that you looked so beautiful. He finds it cute whenever you’d get hassled, or how you’d still feel so sleepy when he catches you yawn every now and then. He was utterly attracted to you the first time he laid his very own eyes on yours.

You and Hoseok didn’t think of anything much about the situation – a little conversation between loads can do no harm, right?

“Oh, do you want some coffee?” You asked him. You had previously prepared your coffee maker earlier this morning for the workers. And by the looks of his reaction, he apparently didn’t know. Hoseok quirks an eyebrow up, “There’s coffee?”

You giggled at his response, grabbing his wrist as you quickly brought him to the kitchen. Hoseok, on the other hand, felt sparks ignite his body when he felt your touch. Sure, other employees were staring at the two of you, but he was too in his feelings to care. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time, and it felt almost new to him. A smile crept up his lips when you led him to the wooden island where a coffee maker stands in the middle.

“I asked almost everyone if they wanted some coffee – but only one person agreed.” Hoseok smirks as he watches you get a new clean mug and prepare his drink.

“Am I that one?” he grins, and something about that smug look on his face made you blush the slightest bit.

You look down, chuckling as you poured the hot liquid. “Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. His laugh fills the room, and you could’ve sworn that you’ve never heard such a wonderful laugh like his.

Once you were done, he held the mug and carefully bringing it up to his lips, blowing on the hot steaming liquid a little bit. “Thank you, angel.”

Angel? Did he really just called you that?

You watched him as he sipped on his drink casually, as if nothing has happened. Maybe that was a normal thing for him? Nevertheless, your cheeks were painted in a shade of red, getting a bit shy. You immediately looked away in embarrassment once he locked eyes with yours. “Uhh, anyway –”

“Jung Hoseok!” a male voice suddenly calls from the doorway and you both whip your head to his direction. You notice how the man looks at Hoseok, then at the coffee on his hands, then at you and he smirks. “When you’re finished with your coffee can you please lend a hand with Jaeho to carry the last few boxes?”

Hoseok nods once, “Sure, I’ll get to it as soon as possible.”

You watch as the man exits as he carries a large yellow box on his hands. You snort when you remember that those were your books that you still ought to read.

“Umm, Y/n?” Hoseok says to grab your attention and you swiftly look at his eyes. “Yes?”

“If you don’t mind me asking…” he drags his sentence out and you quirk an eyebrow up, “do you have a boyfriend? O-or someone you’re currently into?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, not expecting him to ask you that question. You felt your cheeks redden, a smile forming your lips involuntarily. “Um,” you look down on the floor, trying to hide your blush. “I don’t.”

Hoseok chuckles at your cuteness, taking a sip on his hot drink. He felt relieved on the inside, the question that he was dying to know earlier this morning finally out of his chest. His heart jumped when you looked back up at him, eyes locked together.

“T-that’s great,” he stammered a little bit as he couldn’t hide his smile.

“Great?” You smirked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Yeah.” He stated simply. He had a playful look on his face, and you knew what those eyes mean. But you didn’t want to jump into any more conclusions, though. You didn’t think about it too much.

Soon enough, Hoseok finishes his mug and places it on the sink, turning the faucet on but you were faster to move him away. “Hey, hey,” you giggled, “I’ll do it.”

Hoseok chuckles as he observes you washing the mug. You feel his eyes at the back of your head and you quickly spin around, “Aren’t you supposed to help someone?” you smile up at him.

“Oh, right,” he claps his hand once, making you laugh quietly, “I’ll go ahead.”

You sigh once he’s disappeared from your vision and you continue to wash the mug. Hoseok seemed like a pretty cool guy, and he was nice to be around. The two of you somehow clicked instantly, and it feels like you have known him for a very long time whenever you talk to him. He always has this certain grin whenever he talks, and just thinking about his smile makes you smile.

You were a very sentimental person, that’s for sure. You couldn't help but reminisce the past memories that were created in your old house. It was one of the big purchases that you had, and it will always have a place in your heart.

However, you mentally prepare yourself for the number of boxes and items you have to work with. You only wished that everything can just magically organize themselves in a single snap of your fingers – but that’s not real life, sadly.

You sigh once you parked at the front of your new house, climbing up the white steps and you jiggled the key in the lock. Opening the door, you snort at the sight. The image that you had in your head was clearly the same as it is in front of you. Boxes were piled up – neatly – in the living room, all shapes and colors.

“This will be a long night,” you muttered to yourself.

In an instant, your eyes caught an unfamiliar bright blue box settled in the middle of the kitchen island as you were taking a look around the house. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you didn’t remember packing anything in a blue box like this. Should you ignore it and just place it somewhere else? Or should you look inside?

Your instincts went with option two and carefully opened the box with nimble fingers. Your mind went to the moving company, thinking that someone might’ve left this here because they were the previous ones to enter the house. Could it be a housewarming gift from them? You find yourself chuckling at your own thoughts, shaking your head.

Once you opened the lid, you gasp when you saw the coffee maker that you used yesterday. Memories of you and Hoseok came into mind, and your hand immediately flies to cover your mouth in shock. You spot a piece of paper beside it, and you quickly pick it up and read it.

‘Y/n, I think that you forgot to pack this up, so I did it for you. No worries though, think of this as a reverse housewarming gift! Also, I think we should hang out sometime.

Here’s my number, __, hit me up whenever you see this ;)

Hoseok.’

You could’ve sworn that you’ve never smiled any brighter than this moment. You grab your phone from your back pocket in excitement, immediately dialing the written numbers. Your hands were sweaty as you waited for him to pick up, your foot tapping on the marble floor in anticipation. You truly felt like a giddy little high school girl at this time.

“Hello?” his voice spoke through the line, and you felt your heart jump. Your other hand flies up to play with your bottom lip involuntarily.

“Hey, it’s me, Y/n.”

Hoseok can hear the smile in your voice, making him chuckle. He runs a hand through his hair, leaning his back on the chair he was sitting on. “You read the note?”

“Mhmm, I did. Thanks for packing up my coffee maker by the way.” You spoke as you turn your body around to lean against the island. You can hear him laugh over the phone which was music to your ears. “It’s not a problem angel, don’t worry. Have you start unpacking yet?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I haven’t even started.”

“Do you want me to come over and help you if you want? You know you can’t do all of that on your own.”

“Is that your form of ‘hanging out’?” You playfully said, but you had no problem with it at all. You just wanted to be with him, whatever circumstance it might be.

“...Well kind of, yeah.” he giggled, “You’re talking to a mover boy, Y/n.”

“Okay, okay,” you said in defeat, “You can come over, Hoseok.”

“Great, I’ll be there in twenty. See you.” You said your goodbye and he was the first to leave the call. You sighed, clutching your phone to your chest. “Who knew you’d like a mover boy, Y/n,” you spoke to yourself, “all started from those darn teacups.” Speaking of which, your eyes widened as you immediately scurried back to the living room to find the purple box, wanting to see if something happened to your precious China tea set.

a/n: I didn’t know how to end this, but oop oh well. Give it a note if you liked it, it will really inspire me to do more <3

339 notes · View notes

capfish8 · 4 years

Text

Leading 10 Finest Dublin Removals For 2020

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Content

Cost Of Moving Residence

Part Lots Removals.

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How to Move a Messy Room 1. 1) Organize your home before you pack up. Place your clothes and items into three piles: “Keep,” “Throw Away” and “Donate.” You don't need all that old junk dragging you down, so downsizing can be refreshing. 2. 2) Pack a separate “essentials” bag. 3. 3) Label your packing boxes. 4. 4) Try a moving app.

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Mayflower is a full-service, long-distance moving company. Mayflower Moving Costs.Home TypeWeight of Household ItemsAvg. Cost 1,000-Mile Move3-Bedroom House7,500-10,000 lbs.$5,000-$7,5004-Bedroom House12,000-15,000 lbs.$8,000-$10,0005-Bedroom House17,000-20,000 lbs.$11,000-$15,0003 more rows•6 May 2020

It will certainly cost someplace in between $50 and $100 for a complete set of boxes, depending upon how many things you possess. HireaHelper is a marketplace where you can work with movers to aid you on a per hour basis. This is a fantastic alternative if you're just trying to find some added hands to load a rental truck or pack a moving container.

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floosies · 5 years

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Series: La Muneca del Barrio

A/N: One thing I forgot to mention is that there will be a lot of spanish in this series and I do hope you understand it is for both the story and how I wish to tell this story. I’m hispanic myself so I know that using spanish is still very iffy but it’s my story and I mean no harm by it.

Summary/AN: This a passion project really, I’ve written previously using the mob!au so this a second attempt in that genre (i guess you could call it).

Warnings: Blood, violence, smut, strong language, and drug use

Rocio Cruz lives in a Brooklyn block best known for its vibrant and ignored community. What she always ignored though was the underground scene in the borough, the evils that lay in it and its people. That all comes to an end when she’s introduced to those things she ignored.

Chapter 2: Que Comience La Fiesta

Masterlist

It’d been some days since the girl, who’s name was Leticia had spoke to Rocio about Rubio. She wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation. She did believe her date with Cubano but mostly because the girl was from Harlem. What exactly did Brooklyn’s dueno have to do with Harlem’s mover?

Background:

Unlike her mama Maritza, who did know about all the under ground world in New York, Rocio was clueless. Her mama kept it that way from the start. She didn’t want her children growing up in that mess. She would have avoided it herself had it not been for her pajarito Rafael. In order to understand so much, you gotta go to the past.

Before Rocio was born, her papa worked for just about anyone in Brooklyn who had a say with the mafiosos. He came from Puerto Rico, hidden in a boat and praying that he stayed alive to see America. When he got to the states he started working odd jobs, which is where he caught the eye of Rubio’s mentor, an older man called Blue eyes. He liked the work ethic her papa had and hired him. That’s around the time he met Maritza. She on the other hand was a waitress at her parents’ restaurant. She came from immigrant parents who traveled from Mexico to New York. Don’t ask them how either because they’ll never tell, they didn’t to their children and they won’t to their grandchildren either.

When Rocio was born, Blue eyes started getting sick. However, he got the chance to meet the baby before he went. Maritza wasn’t all that happy about that at first. However, what came after for her and her family was what changed her mind. Blue eyes had made it a point that after his death that’s where her father’s job ended. In return for always working hard and being loyal, the old Blue eyes was giving Rafael a good sum of money and protection for the rest of his life. That the guy who would take over, would respect that decision and the Cruz family for however the “corporation” would continue.

However, this would not go as planned. Eventually Rubio would come to power but he was too young at the time. So it went to a man who had no business being in power, they called him Mika but no one knew if that was his real name. Anyways, he was a puto through and through. He was a thief to his own men and didn’t care for the business, he just wanted to control everyone.

That. It was Mika, who everyone considered a little bitch, who was the reason that Rafael ended up in jail and Cubano came to his power alongside Rubio. In 2003 a fifteen year old Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson with help from others within the “corporation” set up Mika. They killed the bastard at a night club well known around the cartel community in Harlem. Unfortunately not everyone got out clean, but true to his loyalty Rafael took the blame for all of it. This was the one time he didn’t sing like a bird. The feds had nothing on him, they tried to get to Maritza but she had already went into hiding, with help from her parents.

Rocio was clueless about all this, regardless it didn’t matter because she was already too pressured into the whole party thing by Leticia who by now had taken her shopping for a dress. They looked through racks of dresses in a little store just a couple of blocks from Harlem.She had her eyes on a pink satin mini dress, “y esta? you think it’s cute?” She asked Leti who scrunched her nose, “mami, I think que mejor you keep looking around.” Rocio shrugged, she was probably right, these men were rich, no just anything would do, but she was on a budget. The bills were due in a couple of days so whatever she got had to be cute and cheap.After a while of looking around and finding nothing they went back to Brooklyn where Rocio knew she would find something. “Como conosistes a Cubano?” Rocio asked Leti quietly while they looked around a boutique where she always shopped since she was in high school. Leticia looked at the dresses, with a look of stress before she started speaking, “one day he came to my ma’s little stand where her and my pops sell street food, el tipo ahi estaba, he just talked to them and then I came from work to help them. He started talking to me, bueno pues ese hombre es tremendo mangon-” she stops to laugh a little, her cheeks getting bright. “We talked for a while and he started talking himself up, about how he could make me a big deal in Harlem. Eh, tu sabes how they talk to girls but Cubano means it. Then he asked me to go with him to this party. Como le voy a dicir que no?” She finished, then grabbing a dress to show for approval to Rocio.

The dress was cute, so they went with it.They finished shopping and headed to Rocio’s place to get ready. Maritza was cooking when they entered the house. One look at the girls and she knew that her daughter was not going to be home for dinner, “y adonde sales esta noche nina? Buenas tardes, y tu como te llamas.” She said eyeing the girls up and down while her siblings laughed from the table at the end of the room.Sighing at the annoyance of the situation she answered, “mama, es una fiesta. Voy a regrezar, you don’t trust me enough.” She said leading Leticia to her room, “buenas tardes, Doña Cruz, soy Leticia, gusto de conocerla!” She said following Rocio. Maritza rolled her eyes, “I do trust you mija! Es los de afuera a que no confio!” She yelled as she finished cooking.When they finished getting ready it was already 8.

Leticia kept looking at her phone, waiting for the text that said where they would meet the car at. Some minutes later they text came. Rocio’s siblings were with her mama in her room watching tv. They moved quietly but not quiet enough, “y se piensan ir sin percinarse? eh?” She heard her mom said from the door way of her room. The girls sighed turning around. “Vengan,” looking at the two girls, who reminded her of her younger days she began, “en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo, y del Espirtu Santo.” there was a pause, “ya bueno pues antes de que las dejen. Be safe! Rocio me hablas!” They hurried out.The girls were glad they didn’t meet the car in front of the apartment building where Rocio lived, that car would have all the nana’s talking for days. What they weren’t expecting was that Cubano would be waiting inside the car, a cigar in his hand and the other waiting to take Leti’s hand. To say Leticia was beyond thrilled he was there was an understandment, “papi! You look so good, esta tremendo verdad Roci?” She asked her friend as the car took off. Rocio just nodded, she never thought this would be happening.

He stared at her, something about her seemed familiar, he was trying to see what was up with you, interrupting the conversation he was having with his girl he dragged another puff of his cigar before speaking “your plus one is very quiet mami,” he finally said. She looked at him, “oh sorry, my name’s Rocio. Uh Rocio Cruz, nice to meet you.” Leticia looked at her Cubano, curious as to how he would react to her answer. “Cruz?” Wilson was intrigued now, “By any chance would your papi’s name be Rafael?” He said with a smirk, she looked both confused and startled. She looked at Leticia before answering, “yeah, my pop’s name is Rafael, do you know him?” He just laughed and nodded, “mami, you did a good job picking a friend to bring. Steve is gonna love this.”

Steve? Steve el Rubio Rogers? He was gonna be at the party? Leticia said he might be, but Rocio didn’t think a man like him liked parties. Her mind was racing, how did they know her dad? Was she about to die? Her thoughts were interrupted by the car shutting off and someone opening the door, the girls were led out. “Ladies, welcome to my little festival, a celebrar mami!” Cubano yelled happily as they entered a studio where salsa was playing loudly and people were taking white lines like shots. They walked to a stall in the back of the studio where a large table was set up with velvet chairs and expensive liquor. “Rocio, you wait here. Mami you come with me, your fine ass can’t be left alone.” Cubano said taking Leticia somewhere, in no time a waiter came and offered her a drink from the liquor which she gladly took at the fear of not knowing what was going to happen next. If this was her last night she might as well go out having a bit of fun. She looked through her phone, seeing what everyone else was doing but knowing better than to post anything herself. It felt like forever until she saw Leti again. Except now, there was a man with blonde hair and beside him a man with blue eyes. Cubano had brought guests to the table, “Cruz, this Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.”

#mob!steve #Steve Rogers #Chris Evans #mob!bucky #Bucky Barnes #Sebastian Stan #mob!au #sam wilson #the falcon #anthony mackie #marvel #avengers

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mawmdalorian · 4 years

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The Knight and the Hunter: chapter 2

They had the Hallikset player serving drinks now. He’d been watching her for about an hour. She moved through the crowds like she’d been doing it her whole life. He didn’t want to be impressed, but… well, it was that kind of night. Something in the air was singing in Boba Fett’s blood, and though it was distracting, it wasn’t the kind of distracting that was going to become a problem. Few things were.

He was something like desperate to get back to Jabba’s palace and bury himself in the pleasures that could be found there, the spice and the sin and the taste of firewater pouring down the throat like sour velvet. Even Boba Fett, after all, took the occasional day, or week, off to unwind. He didn't exactly struggle to focus, but he did concede to himself and himself alone that he was getting a little jumpy.

When the hallikset player appeared again, this time close enough to touch, she came heavy with the cloying scent of fake flowers. Cheap perfume, the kind you grabbed from a market stall on your way home from a long night shift, the kind you didn’t have to throw credits at, the kind you wore to entice men who hadn’t smelled softness in a long, long while. It cut through the smell of grease and the cleaner used on star destroyers. Her skirt—knee length, tattered, having seen better days—snapped around her legs.

“Chut chut,” he said, brushing off the Huttese. It gave his voice a different timbre, sounded different when he spoke it rather than Basic and added a layer to his disguise. She paused, shifted her weight to her right foot. Bad left hip. Old injury? He'd thought it was just an affectation, but maybe it was a real limp. She looked for just a second too long right into his eyes, probably registering the scars and the chip implanted next to his right eyebrow. Fierfek, she reeked of that perfume. Up close, he could see that her dark hair and boots glittered with the mica-rich dust of the planet, and she shimmered in the bright spots of light that created places too bright and too dim in the crowded cantina.

“Hey, what can I get you?” she asked. Sweat was beading on her tanned forehead, the wispy hairs at her hairline sticking to her skin. It was getting pretty warm in the room, though from his position in the dark corners, it was perfectly cool. The hallikset player had been mobile since he’d started the hunt, but she was clearly happy to stand still for a second and enjoy the cool air.

Something was pinging in the back of Boba’s brain. Like a hook, just missing the memory over and over.

“Oto du yocola.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Jee hagwa chess.”

“We just got in some Corellian goldale?”

He nodded, and she did in return, before heading toward the bar again. She collected glasses from raucous tables, and Boba watched as someone reached out to grab a feel as she did so. He raised an eyebrow as she delicately twisted out of the way. He almost grinned.

Fett was naked without his armor, though it was right nearby--in the bag at his feet, actually. He still bristled with weaponry, from the blaster at his hip to the knife in his boot. His armor was known here, though, and this quarry had evaded hunters nearly as good as he was time and time again. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes. She was clever, and if she smelled trouble, she’d bolt like a startled eopie. He'd been trying to learn her routines but she'd been gone almost all week.

When she reappeared, bearing a large tray and an instrument, she dispensed drinks, dropping them at tables. On the way, she slipped her hallikset off her shoulder and set it on stage. They must’ve been ready for her on the bandstand. A new act was setting up. She set his goldale on the table in front of him, and when she got close, something inside Fett bristled. Under the perfume, he could smell her skin, her sweat, and could feel the cool rush of air with her movements. He swallowed. This was one of the reasons he preferred to work in his armor. This was too much contact with the world, too many smells, too many sensations not filtered by his helmet, too many mysteries without a HUD to elucidate.

“There ya go,” she said.

Her tray empty, she handed it off to another server. He watched as she leapt easily onto the stage, her heavy boots practical and sturdy, and sat down on a stool. She quickly tuned her instrument, a seven-stringed hallikset that had clearly been through a war, and when the rest of the band struck up, her music disappeared.

“Quite something, isn’t she?”

Fett turned his head, looked at the man who had invited himself to sit. Some Hutt affiliate. He’d seen him in Jabba’s throne room a time or two, being entertained by Twi’lek dancers and eating rare, expensive delicacies aboard the pleasure barge. He was a snotty karking barve, and Fett made a point not to speak or be spoken to by him.

“You see now why we hired her.”

“Hmm,” Fett answered. The man had no idea who he was, he just saw that Fett couldn’t keep his eyes off the woman.

“She’s a work of art. You’ll never believe it but we found her aboard a cargo transport a few years ago. She’d been bouncing around the galaxy for years.”

“What’d you offer her that made her settle?” Fett asked, partly out of genuine curiosity and partly because if he was going to have to listen to this barve talk, he’d rather steer the conversation.

“A better job than the one she had.”

“So, she traded cargo hauler for cantina girl?”

Cargo hauler… again, that nagging feeling came back.

“Oh, this isn’t her main job. It’s what we do to keep her busy between assignments.”

“So what is it that you have her doing?”

“She’s quite adept at fetching odds and ends from old Jedi temples.”

Fett raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

What a barve. What a stupid barve. It was a wonder he hadn’t gotten the schutta killed yet, though it also explained all the competing bounties on her. One from the Empire, a pile of them from the syndicates, even Jabba had expressed interest. He hadn’t paid attention to the specifics until Jabba had offered him the job on behalf of a “friend,” or whatever it was that Jabba had that passed for a friend. No one had said anything about a Jedi. And she was serving drinks here? That had to sting.

“Is she a… one of those uh… what are they called,” he said, pausing to sip his drink. It was awful, no wonder she’d pawned it off on him. “You know, jeedai.”

“A jedi? I have no idea. She’s had some kind of training in that sorcery though. I’m sure you know as well as I that concepts like jedi and the like aren’t worth much out here. The Empire likes to think they have us all in hand, and that we just turn over our force-sensitives like ordered, pbut even the grandest of admirals bow to Hutt sovereignty. She’s as safe as safe can be in the Outer Rim.”

A moment of silence passed, Fett drank again. He wanted so desperately to stop, but he couldn’t risk the chance that being persnickety about drinks would draw attention to him, make his face too memorable. Not that it was--he was, after all, one of millions of men with the same one.

The faintest impression of the hallikset made its way through the loud cantina. He could hardly hear her over the sound of chatter, drinking, fighting, shouting, and the other players. But he stayed aware of it.

He needed to go get his armor on, but this barve was the type to get irritable if he didn’t dismiss you, and clearly he wasn’t ready.

“So, where are you coming in from, pilot?”

“I’m no pilot.”

“With those flinty eyes? No way. You’ve seen some things. What are you then?”

“Just a freight mover,” Fett insisted. “That’s all. Agricultural products from Nakadia.”

“YOU? Your boss has you wasted. Please tell me you’re at least a first mate?”

Fett wanted to roll his eyes. He sipped the saccharine drink, which left a sour taste on his tongue, and said, “No, sir. I’m just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe. I’m not looking for that kind of responsibility. Just wanting to send enough home to the wife and kids so they can have a good life.”

“Well, if you’re ever looking for anything else, anything more, you let me know. Don’t touch the hallikset player, though. She’s… spoken for.”

Fett knew by the distant eyes the barve flashed at her that the statement was not only not true, but was an outright lie. The woman had probably turned him down a hundred times before. Maybe more.

He watched her look around as she played. She had her eyebrows furrowed. She was looking for trouble. He had to get this over with quickly. They locked eyes for just a second.

The woman had dark eyes, like he did, but rather than the hard cast his had, hers were friendly. She looked nice. She looked… playful, especially when she smiled like she was just then.

Hers narrowed, but he averted his. He wasn’t sure where he’d seen them before. It didn’t matter. She’d be locked in the holding cells by the night’s end, and then she’d be on her way to the client.

The first song ended as the barve stood up, knocked on the table.

“You take care of yourself, friend. And… don’t worry about that drink.”

He walked away. Fett was smart enough to know that the knock was a signal and he should get out and get changed while the getting was good. The hallikset player was tapped on the shoulder. Everyone in here was too drunk to care if the quartet was missing their strings, and the place was busy, so she was pulled away again to wait tables. The barve walked up to her, stood a little too close, but didn’t touch her as he spoke quietly to her. She nodded, shooting a glance at Fett.

Fierfek.

He sighed. Okay. Time to go.

He picked up the holdsall as the woman walked up to him. “Hey, ready for another?” she said with a smile. It was only then that he paid any attention to her earrings. They were semi-circular and gold, with three long chains ending in points hanging from the open side.

“No. Dobra koona.”

“Oh, so soon? The boss just said you drink free tonight. Seems like he’s taken a shine to you.” She smiled, raised her eyebrows enticingly. “C’mon, man. It’s a good night for it.”

He snarled in Basic. “I said no.”

The hallikset player raised her hands. “Whoa, sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to be a bother. You have a good night.”

She walked off. She either had no idea who he was, or was good at hiding it. Then again, why would she know who he was? How would anyone?

He walked out, found a dark corner next to a stack of transport crates, he began to reassemble and put on his armor. It was going to be a long hunt, a lot of waiting. Eventually, she was going to have to come out. He set his carbine to stun, knelt into the shadows, and got comfortable.

Time passed. Slowly, patrons began to leave the cantina. The staff, too, slowly began to leave. He pulled up the information from the Slave I on his HUD. Her name was Tash Lia. She’d been pinging for a while, which is why he took the bounty, a slightly lower one than he’d normally consider.

Tash Lia. This was going to drive him crazy. He wracked his brain. Boba Fett had no debts, so he didn’t owe her money. His romantic affairs—if they could be called that—were generally brief, nameless things, with few exceptions, and he’d remember if she was an exception. He’d remember that long hair, wrapped around his hand as he—

Fierfek.

He was a professional. Professional disinterest was crucial. He’d hunted pretty women before, he’d do it again, and he needed to get himself together.

The sensor in his helmet blinked, indicating something was nearby. It wasn’t any of the patrons. Something in the shadows. Fett felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. It looked bigger than a tooka, but as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

The employee door opened, and Lia walked out. “Alright, barve,” she said aloud, a blaster in her hand. She wore a rugged brown leather jacket and had twisted her braid into a bun. “I know you’re out here!”

Alright. Fair enough.

He stepped out of the shadows, and she raised her eyebrows. “Oh. You weren’t the barve I expected.”

“I’ve gotten that before.”

She glanced around a little. “Where’s the cute guy? I thought he was the—never mind.”

“Is that why you tried to get him drunk?”

“Well, the boss really did promise him free drinks.”

Fett raised his blaster, and tried not to think about her remark about his appearance. “You going to come quietly?”

She was silent for a minute, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t communicating. Her eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes narrowed above her broad cheekbones. “I don’t think so. After all, whoever sent you has to get their money’s worth. I didn’t think I even had a bounty on me high enough for you to bother with.”

He didn’t have a response to that.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

She raised her own blaster, turning off the safety. “I don’t know who sent you, but I’m pretty sure they want me alive, or you would have already shot me. And I’m not going easy.”

“Alive doesn’t mean walking.”

She fired. The blaster bolt bounced off his armor, and he aimed for her leg, but it missed. That was… great. He sighed. Karking force users. Full-tilt, she went sprinting away from him, but that bad hip was going to stop her eventually. He followed.

She was clever, dipping down alleys. It was going to be easier to follow her from the air. His jet pack activated with a button, and he used the HUD in the helmet to put a trace on her that tracked her heat signature even when she dipped behind things.

Tash Lia ran into a large warehouse, probably hoping to nail him in close quarters, which was a mistake. Not many quarters where she could put up a fight he couldn’t win.

Dropping to the ground, he kept low as he scanned the room for her or her blaster. Faint traces of warmth from her footsteps glowed in the thermal imaging HUD of his helmet. He listened. She’d get nervous, staying in one spot too long. She would want to move and keep doing so, no matter how secure her location. He had a feeling she had the good sense not to engage him directly.

Footsteps pounded up a set of stairs just out of his sight. He pursued.

He charged up the stairs after her. A blow hit him, knocking him back. By the time he realized she’d thrown a box at him, he was watching her dart away. Getting righted, he stood, followed—only to find an open window. Sighing, he activated the jet pack again, easing himself to the ground outside. Fett looked around. She was close, he could tell that much.

Tookas tumbled out of an alley, and he followed.

And that was when that second blip on the radar came back, and he realized he was in deep bantha poodoo.

Lia stood in the alley, stock-still. A figure in gleaming black armor, with a rather distinctive helmet design, stood at the other end. There was a long, quiet moment. The round guard of a lightsaber hilt gleamed in double moonlight.

“Mr. Fett,” said the ghoulish figure. “Fancy running into you here.”

Tash Lia’s hand slowly crept to the small of her back.

“Third Brother,” Fett answered. Always polite. No matter how much the man made even Fett’s icy blood run a little chilled.

Third Brother was a tall, scrawny barve with a particularly mean streak. Fett had only run into him once before, but had also run into the results of his work. It had been… messy. Fett’s durasteel stomach had rolled a little.

The Inquisitor flicked the button on his saber, and the fiery blade filled the alley with light as it grew.

“Natasi Salcilia,” said the ghoulish barve, “Such poor luck you have, to be hunted by two killers tonight.”

“The bad luck is all yours, buddy,” said Lia.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to see the green blade of her saber appear, but he was, and now there were two too many lightsabers involved in this hunt for his liking.

“Inquisitor, I have already accepted a bounty on Tash Lia—,” he began, wondering how he was going to talk his way out of this one when it really wasn’t his style to talk in the first place.

“Don’t bother, Fett,” said Lia. “Vader’s attack dogs don’t care about anything but blood.”

Lia made the first move. It wasn’t the position he would have taken, but then again, he didn’t have a laser sword. She was much bolder with the saber than she was with a blaster. Then again, it was a weapon that lent itself to boldness.

The clash of sabers was loud and jarring. The bright lights filled the dark alley, and it was going to start drawing attention on the abandoned street very soon. He was meant to deliver the quarry alive. However, the client had not mentioned that there might be Inquisitors involved. Nothing about Jedi. That's what he earned, though, for not asking questions.

The two sabers touched lightly, testing. The sound was still jarring. The inquisitor pulled up the visor of his helmet. He had a fantastically ugly face “Well, well. You haven’t forgotten your training, youngling.”

“Pretty sure you’re younger than me,” she said. She had a loose, comfortable grip with her saber. Her movements were practiced, precise.

“As you like, Lady Salcilia.”

Fett had to make a decision. If they would put the sabers away, it would be easier.

The Jedi took a step back—retreat? No. He could tell she was up to something. The Inquisitor grinned like a predator. “What is this? Fear, Lady Salcilia?”

He was mocking her. Fett raised his blaster. Tash risked a glance at him. Raised her eyebrow. He swore that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. What was she trying to tell him to—oh.

“Well, Fett, hope you’ve got the engine warmed up,” she said. “Seeing as how there’s no shot that both of us are getting out of this alive.”

The Inquisitor lunged.

Again, it was a light show, a constant hum-and-buzz routine. This time was different though. Lia’s practiced movements became brutal, serious attacks, beating the Inquisitor down. No longer on the offensive, the Inquisitor was bewildered for a second, which gave Lia the upper hand for just long enough to tire him out. Watching the whole thing was like being in a nightmare.

Fett kept his rifle trained, and when the Jedi ducked, he fired on the Inquisitor. There was a breathless second where Fett was pretty sure he was kriffed, where the Inquisitor realized what had happened. Inquisitors were pretty immune to pain. However, they weren’t immune to politics.

He looked up at Fett. “You traitor! Lord Vader will hear about this!”

Tash Lia was behind him in a second, and the beam of her saber appeared out of his chest, before tearing through his body like a hot knife through butter. Fett was pretty immune to extreme violence, but that was a little sickening. The Inquisitor turned, his own saber nearing Tash’s leg. Momentum was on his side, but Lia twisted away, only getting the edge of her skirt singed. The Inquisitor fell.

She looked up at him. Silence stretched on between them.

“We can’t leave him here,” she gasped, clearly out of breath. Fett didn't move until the Jedi flicked the switch on her saber, turning it off. She tucked it away and looked up at him. It took him a second to realize she was waiting on an answer.

“We could put him out the airlock.”

She nodded as she slipped her bag over her shoulder. “Any asteroid fields on the way to where we’re going?”

“Not going to put up a fight anymore?”

He put away his blaster and opened the pocket on his belt where he kept the binders. Lia held out her hands. “I’m not an idiot. You had multiple opportunities to shoot, so whoever hired you wants me alive. They definitely want me dead,” she said, shooting a glance at the Inquisitor. “And I need offworld, like, now, before they figure out this barve is missing. I’ll fight later.”

He picked up the gored Inquisitor and threw him over his shoulder. Lia followed him.

"So how'd you get out of the Sarlacc?"

#boba fett #boba fett x oc #i cannot make this stupid app work #boba fett fanfiction

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years

Text

At Arm’s Length (Part 3)

Part 1- Modern!AU

Part 2

Part 4

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 1872

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes so hard for a second she felt them getting stuck like that. With a click she closed the article, her face and Bucky’s being the cover photo. Of course, it would be. The girl had predicted it while still being on the red carpet, yet she’d let her emotions cloud her judgement and allowed Bucky to act the way he had. Not only had people started to dig into her past and what she’d achieved, but they had started to harass her as well. Most of the comments being ‘how can a simple nobody get a man like that’ but Y/N couldn’t care less about them, her biggest concern right now was pushing Bucky away. And it was hard, probably the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Y/N’s office and apartment were littered by expensive bouquets of flower, chocolate boxes from Paris arrived at her doorstep every day, but the man himself didn’t just spend money on simple materialistic things. Oh, no. Bucky went full romance. With every passing day, she would receive a note. A simple little piece of paper in an envelope, her name written on top in Bucky’s messy handwriting. And every tiny letter held a reason they would be great together and that everything would work out. Y/N was screaming for an escape, because with every second they spent together, even if it was sitting near one another during a meeting while he, Steve and Stark discussed the merge, she felt her resolve slipping away. It was during week two of Bucky’s love declarations a saving grace came her way. Tony had called her in his office, Natasha going over a few files for him as Pepper simply lounged on one of the plush couches, her five-month pregnant belly having become a bit more visible.

“Y/N, there has been a change in our plans,” her boss cut right to the chase. “We need you to go now. Like the end of the week latest. There is going to be a new facility added to the company and we need you there to oversee how it’s set up and report back. Given how unplanned this is, I know it might be a struggle to get everything packed so I’ve hired a mover.” The girl stood there stunned as she eyed Pepper who only gave her an apologetic smile. “You’re free for the rest of the day and until three tomorrow. Will that be enough time to tell the movers what should be taken and what you’ll leave behind? If needed, I’ll get a storage unit for you.” Y/N was still shocked, but it was like she could take a breath of relief because one more day with Bucky by her side and she’d break, she’d completely crumble. The woman gave him a small nod and turned around to go gather up her things but not before stopping in the glass door. “Can I ask a favour of you though?” “Anything, sweetie.” Natasha exchanged a pleading look with Y/N, wishing she had telekinesis so the redhead could deliver a mental smack to her friend’s head. “Please don’t tell Bucky about this. Please. It’s the only thing I’m asking for.” Stark sighed, glancing over at his wife who frowned at the words. “You do realise it won’t take him long to figure out what has happened.” Y/N nodded and thickly swallowed. “But it will give me enough time to show nothing could work between us.” Tony side-eyed Nat, as he fingered a corner of a page. “I still have a few meetings with them. During the two weeks, you’re still supposed to be here.” She could only shrug in response. “By that point, I’ll be long gone.” And with that, she took the silence as an agreement as well as her cue to exit. The girl had packing to do. *** It was a day after Y/N had flown away to Barcelona Bucky had figured things out on his own. There were no more messages of goodnight, the flowers and chocolates were being returned as well as his cards. But that wasn’t the giveaway. It was the fact when he entered Tony’s office for one of their meetings a new woman sat beside the billionaire, her blue eyes nervous and her smile weary. “Mister Barnes,” Tony stood up to shake his hand before doing the same for Steve. “Rogers. Please take a seat.” “Where’s Y/N?” Bucky's cerulean orbs widened and the man’s stomach churned. He knew the answer, had known it from the moment he had stepped into the office, yet he needed verbal confirmation. Tony hung his head, unable to really meet the brunet’s gaze. “Our plans changed last week…” he huffed and finally looked up. “She’s in Barcelona. Asked me not to say anything to you until… well until we couldn’t hide that fact anymore.” Bucky wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and rip his hair out as he looked to his best friend with a broken face. But to the surprise of everybody in the room, he started to chuckle. “God, I love that woman,” the man wiped away a tear, glancing at a very confused Tony. “She won a battle, but the war has only just begun." *** Y/N was settling in Barcelona nicely, decorating her room and making everything homier. Music blasted through the speakers and she swayed her hips to the rhythm until the loud ping of a message interrupted the process. ‘Turn on your TV, look for any channel that talks about the merge,’ it was simple and to the point. And it came from Natasha. With a thudding heart, she made the device come to life, switching between channels until the right was on. There, with his brown locks slicked back stood Bucky, looking more beautiful than ever and it took Y/N’s breath away as he was being interviewed. “So mister Barnes, we just cannot let you go before asking- is there anyone special in your life? As everybody knows,” she turned to look into the camera, “Bucky Barnes has been voted most eligible bachelor of New York for the past five years, but a little birdie has told me,” she had a mischievous smirk on her face, “that it may not stay that way for too long.” Y/N’s eyes were glued to the screen. “Yeah, there is a special woman. Actually, there’s been someone for quite a while now. I just was too scared and stupid to say anything.” He chuckled, gaze trained to the ground. “Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first,” the interviewer glanced into the camera before turning her undivided attention back to Bucky. “And may we ask who is the lovely person that has captured your heart.” “Oh, we’ve been friends forever. In fact, I would have obviously brought her here tonight, but alas she’s overseas.” “Vacation or work?” “Work, definitely. One if the most hardworking people I’ve ever met.” No. “In fact, she was just promoted.” No. “By Tony Stark himself.” No! “What does she do?” “Leads Stark Industries European branch in Barcelona.” “Is,” the interviewer stuttered, ”is that who I think it is.” “Mhm,” Bucky nodded, looking directly into the camera like he knew she was watching all the way from Spain, “the one and only Y/N Y/L/N.” No. Fucking. Way. In almost an instant her social media and just in general her phone exploded, but if her mobile device was going hyper Y/N herself could barely process what the hell had just happened. It was a struggle to pick up the little piece of technology, it was almost impossible to open it up with all the messages and calls she was receiving, but there was only one person she wanted to talk to right at that moment. Tony picked up after the second ring. “What the fuck?” she breathed down the line. “Sorry honey, can’t hear you. speak up, please.” “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?!” with every word she was getting louder and louder to the point that people on the other side of her room would probably be able to hear it. “He can’t do that!” “Oh, but he already did!” “Tony!” Y/N yelled. He sounded almost amused by the whole situation. “What do I do?” “Well, sweetie, I honestly have no clue. No one has ever confessed their feelings for me on live TV in front of millions of people watching. And about time he did it.” Y/N doubled over feeling like she was gonna throw up. “I- I can’t breathe, Tony.” She was starting to hyperventilate and immediately the man’s mother-hen setting kicked in. “Darling, take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Do you hear me? Y/N, I need a verbal response.” “Yeah,” she pushed out the word and did as Tony had said. Pulling a deep gulp of air she felt it fill her lungs and then slowly she exhaled. Doing this a few more times her head started to feel more clear and thoughts more present. Y/E/C eyes drifted back to the TV where they were talking about something else, but she could only see their lips moving. Then Bucky winked at the audience who were watching the whole ordeal happen through their screens back home and sauntered away. She could see the smug grin adorning his face like it was the brightest star in the galaxy. “I’m gonna kill him, Tony. I swear. Whenever it is I get back, I will personally strangle him. Better yet,” she flailed an arm around, as if he could see her movements, “I’ll hire a hit man. To kill me!” “Don’t be so dramatic, Y/L/N!” he scolded. “You should be celebrating! The man you love has confessed he has eyes only for you!” “There is a slight problem to that equation.” “What’s that then?” “I’m thousands of fucking miles away!” “Boo hoo. Hi, how are you,” the last bit probably wasn’t meant for Y/N, so she plopped onto her bed. White pillows surrounded her like clouds and she wished she could just disappear in them. “Look, you need to call Bucky,” Tony turned back to the conversation. “Pepper and I manage the long distance thing.” “Your long distance doesn’t involve one of the parties permanently living in a different continent.” The man chuckled. “I don’t think Barnes sees it as a problem.” “No, he doesn’t, but I do.” “Then why not tell him.” “I did! Tony, I did,” Y/N just wanted to scream into the pillow and stay like that for the rest of the night. “Then let me tell you- for the time that I have known Bucky, I have learned a few things and one of them is he doesn’t back down. He fights for what he believes in. So I’m gonna say prepare yourself. Because that man is in love and he is going to fight for you until his very last breath.” With that, Tony disconnected the call, making Y/N groan and stuff her face into the soft feather mountains. “Fucking hell, Bucky,” she muttered to the air, “when will you learn what’s good for you?”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @impalatobakerstreet @slender--spirit @janineabad @salty-buchanan @chrisevans1fan @dyanna-corona @chook007 @lost-and-wandering-alone @goalie-love @nerdgirljen @jediviolet @fandomly-writings @purplebananatragedy

A/N: It’s baaaaackkkkk!! So I have quite a few things I want to write, but I think I kinda need to finish this series first, so Part 3 is finally out!!!

P.S. please, tell me what you think :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests, drop a message :)

P.S.S.S. please, don’t repost without credit :)

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porchwood · 6 years

Text

Fic Bits 2018: The One That Got Away

Modern AU; Madge POV. Jude/Madge, Gale/Madge.

They say you can never go home again, and yet here I am, packing to do just that.

The second autumn after you graduate from college is when the niggling feeling starts, like you left town without returning your library books or forgot to put the new insurance card in your glove compartment. When the first one comes around, you’re elated that you don’t have to think – let alone worry – about registering for classes, mapping your daily routes across campus, or buying school supplies of any kind, but by the second you’re starting to feel like something’s wrong. It’s easy to understand why so many people fall into teaching. Your body gets set on that routine, so that going back to school in fall is as instinctual to humans as seasonal migrations are to birds.

Ironically, it was the school year that determined this move – or rather, the school year that necessitated it, though the fall semester is already several weeks underway. Beginning in January, Dad will be teaching again for the first time since I was in elementary school – and, doubt it not, loving every minute of it.

At twenty-three my life could and probably should be independent of my parents’, but no matter which way I turned the situation around in my mind, there was no truly good reason not to move back with them. As badly as I don’t want to go back to the small town where I grew up, there’s nothing substantial enough to keep me here if my parents are gone.

We’ve always been thick as thieves and, oddly, moreso since moving to the capital city. The fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue that kept my mother to a quiet routine in our hometown made her a veritable recluse amidst the constant bustle of squealing brakes and blaring horns, and everything was so blindingly expensive, we rarely partook of the concerts and boutiques and exotic restaurants that had sounded so exciting from our living room back home.

Moving here as a family had been the result of two somewhat predictable stars aligning perfectly: after twelve years as mayor, Dad was elected to the state legislature and I was accepted into the music program at a small private college, a short bus ride from the capitol building. My parents rented a spacious loft halfway in-between the two, which enabled me to keep tabs on my mother while enjoying the independence of living off-campus all through school, while our place back home was loaned out to visiting professors and the like – short-term rentals to keep the utilities running and keep an eye out for any maintenance issues that might arise. I’m told I missed out on the “full college experience” by not living in a dorm, but from all accounts, it’s a party I’m glad to have skipped.

For all intents and purposes, home has been 37 Ash Terrace for the past five years. Four-and-a-half hours isn’t the longest drive, but there was always one reason or another to stay here through the holidays – which is not to say we’ve never gone back, of course. Our family revisits can be counted on two hands, but I’ve made a few extra trips on my own for special occasions, the last of which – the baptism of Katniss’s son Janni – was more than two years ago now.

I look up at my bulletin board, now stripped of everything but the central photo, and have just tugged out the tack when my phone rings. It’s a local cell number – local to our hometown, not to here – but doesn’t pull up a contact, and I cross the first two fingers of my free hand, hoping one of my cover letters has snared an interview as I answer, “Hello?”

“Is this Madeline Undersee?” asks a young male voice.

That was one of the best things about moving away, and one that I’m particularly loath to leave behind: finally getting to be Madeline, not Madge. That a young professional back home is addressing me as such, however, gives me hope.

“It is,” I affirm, and there’s a brief, quickly stifled sound from the other end before the caller goes on, “I was wondering if you might be available to play a wedding in November.”

The pieces snap together in my mind. It’s probably a local boy who went to college in the capitol like myself – it’s a common enough path – and found himself a fiancée, though it is a trifle odd for the groom to call ‘round for an accompanist.

“I’m sorry; I’m actually moving out of the area this weekend,” I reply, “but I can refer you to several other musicians who would be excellent choices.”

“I’m afraid it really has to be you,” he says with what sounds far more like mischief than regret. “What about a wedding in your hometown? Would that be a little easier to manage?”

“In –?” I break off, mind whipping through the possibilities. It’s hardly a secret that the Undersees are moving back after five years in the big city, but we’ve kept radio silence on my own return except where potential employers are concerned, so there’s no way some random local groom could even know about me, let alone want to hire me for his wedding. “Who is this?” I demand more than ask, a shy fifteen-year-old bookworm all over again, bristling in anticipation of the prank.

“You really don't know?” the young man responds, sounding genuinely surprised, and for a half-second my heart skips in hope, never mind that his voice bears no resemblance whatsoever to Gale’s rough, smoky timbre. “I’m wounded, mädchen,” he laments, and my heart trips halfway through its skip and somersaults clumsily forward to faceplant onto the concrete below.

“Jude?” I squeak.

“You haven’t forgotten me entirely, then?” he teases.

“Don’t be daft,” I retort, my stunned heart now flailing in shock. “So…you’re getting married?” I almost ask if it’s Columbine but that crush is surely ancient history now, never mind that last I heard, she was headed to some fashion design or modeling program out east.

“Don’t be daft,” he throws back with characteristic self-deprecation, but the affection beneath it wraps about me like a blanket – or one of Jude’s incredible lingering hugs. “But I do need a wedding accompanist,” he goes on, “which as I said, really has to be you, but I want to tell you about it in person. When are you back?”

“Well – tomorrow,” I reply, and the whole thing suddenly feels surreal. “Well, the day after, really,” I clarify. “Tomorrow’s the drive up and the U-Haul unload. Mom and Dad hired movers but you still want to go through everything, you know?”

“Of course,” he assures me. “Want to meet at Primavera for Saturday lunch – say, 11:30? My treat.”

“Primavera?” I puzzle. There’s never been an Italian restaurant in our hometown – it’s too small and rural to sustain any such – but the nearby city has a few shopping malls and a much wider selection of eateries; it makes sense that Jude would want to go to one of them. “What – where is that?” I ask.

He gives a little choke of laughter in reply. “Have you really been away so long, mädchen?” he wonders, but something about my ignorance seems to amuse – even delight – him. “It’s Italian – awesome Italian – right next to Mellarks’.”

“There’s nothing next to Mellarks’,” I counter, because our tiny historic downtown has never been able to keep shops for long, not with countless department stores and discount stores not twenty miles off. “Unless…are we having a sidewalk picnic, Judah?” I venture, almost hopefully, and he laughs.

“If the first date goes well, we can do whatever you want on the second,” he replies, and I miss him so much that I snatch up a pillow with my free hand and hug it to my chest as hard as I can. “But I promise: there is a legit Italian restaurant next to Mellarks’,” he says. “I’m going to buy you lunch there on Saturday, and you’re going to love it so much that you’ll refuse to live out of takeout range ever again.”

“Color me intrigued,” I tease. “As much about your mysterious wedding as this new eatery.”

“They’re both worth the wait,” he promises, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

“I missed you,” I blurt and Jude falls suddenly, uncharacteristically silent. There are any number of well-deserved retorts he could hand me, ranging from You didn’t have to to I didn’t go anywhere, but Jude is the sweetest boy I’ve ever known – on a level with Peeta, really – and even in our most frustrated moments, he never addressed me half as harshly as Gale would on a good day.

I think I hurt him a long time ago, though he’s never said as much.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, and the corners of my eyes prickle hotly.

I don’t want to go home – you can never go home again, everyone says as much – don’t want to explain why I have a music degree from a respectable college and am looking for any old day job in my hometown and living with my parents. I don’t want to see Gale Hawthorne – never mind how wildly I do want to see him – to face all the inevitable jibes about how I “couldn’t make it in the real world.”

But if Jude – sweet, funny, precious Jude – is coming back into my life, it just might be bearable. He’ll have a job and new friends now – a girlfriend, to be sure – and he may not even live in town any longer. But we can grab lunches together here and there and laugh about stuff that happened in high school. Maybe we’ll find new things to laugh about.

“See you Saturday?” I say.

“I’ll be the one with the red ribbon,” he replies.

As always, I’m the one who hangs up.

Jude always let me end our calls, always hanging on in case of one last thought or lament, one more drawn-out Night-night or See you tomorrow.

Looking down at the phone in my hand, I remember the incredibly idiotic reason Jude isn’t saved as a contact anymore and sit on my stripped mattress, both arms curled around the pillow and my chin resting on its edge. It was stupid and childish – and ultimately pointless, because he didn’t try to get in touch at all after that. Oh, he did the usual friendly Facebook stuff – comments on my posts and the like – because Jude is that kind of sweet, but he’d never do anything to make me uncomfortable.

And also, maybe, he was hurt.

It’s not as if I shut him out – there were no calls or texts or emails to ignore – and you could hardly call my across-the-state move for college “avoidance,” but it certainly aided me to that end, especially five summers ago.

I bite my lips together for a long moment, silently call myself an idiot, and save the number as a new contact: Judah Tolliver. Neat, professional, and objective, like a grown-up. After all, if he’s hiring me for a wedding we’ll be exchanging calls and texts over the next few months; there’s no reason not to add him to my phone.

Returning to my call history, I dial Rue, the high school friend I’ve stayed closest to by virtue of us attending the same college. Our courses of study and career veered apart over the past few years as Rue set aside music to pursue dance full-bore and is currently spending her days with a traveling company that does famous ballets in a pared-down, intimate contemporary style, with dreamlike costumes that I suspect her father has a hand in, but we’ve stubbornly kept in touch all this while, meeting for a meal and a chat whenever her schedule allows.

She’s halfway across the country dancing Swanilda in Coppélia this season, so our farewell supper took place about two weeks ago. I don’t expect her to answer and am beyond surprised when she does.

“Hey chickie-babe!” she cries. “Are you home? I’ve only got a minute but I want to hear all about it. How did your house hold up?”

“We haven’t left yet,” I tell her. “We’re loading the U-Haul tonight and driving back tomorrow.”

“So where’s the fire?” she teases. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you to bits, but why call now? Are you getting sad about leaving – or going back?”

Rue understands my misgivings, even if she doesn’t share them. After I told my parents I’d move back with them, I curled up on Rue’s couch and cried myself into a stupor while she nestled her tiny fairy-form around me in a supportive hug. Going home is not failure, she told me over and over again, her husky voice sounding so like her mother’s as she rubbed my back in soothing circles. You and your parents have always supported each other; it makes sense you’d go back with them, at least for a little – and it’s not forever, not if you don’t want it to be.

Rue’s parents – a costumer and a choreographer – left the capitol when they started having kids and heartily embraced small town life in the heartland, but they both had vibrant careers behind them and were ready for quiet inexpensive living, for Piggly Wiggly and the county fair and a fixer-upper farmhouse, and they quickly found avenues to exercise their talents on a smaller scale.

I’m a year and a half out of college with eleven wedding gigs, five funerals, and a teaching slot at the local conservatory to show for twenty years at the piano and a B.A. with high distinction.

“Jude just called,” I reply by way of explanation. “He wants to hire me for a wedding –”

“His?” she interjects impishly.

“No,” I quell, “but he wouldn’t tell me who it is over the phone either. We’re meeting for lunch on Saturday to discuss it.”

“Meeting for lunch to discuss a mysterious wedding right after you move back to town?” she presses slyly. “Maybe it’s yours!”

Rue knows there’s nothing of that sort between Jude and me and never has been, but she’s equally convinced that there must be, or should’ve been. He adores you, you know, she’s told me time and again. Like, Peeta-and-Katniss level devotion. Couldn’t you just kiss him once and see what happens?

“Be serious,” I snort.

“I am,” she insists. “I never understood why the pair of you never got together, or why you fell out of touch after graduation. Jude was crazy about you –”

“He was like that with everyone,” I counter. “The sweet, funny thing – that’s just his natural demeanor.”

“And did he ask everyone to marry him if their respective crushes married other people?” she wonders.

“He said we should go on a date, not get married,” I remind her, the edge of a snap creeping into my voice. “It was a low moment and a long time ago. We were both feeling angsty.”

I don’t mention the other thing, the thing I’ve never told anyone – not even myself when I can help it.

“Well…maybe it’s time, sweetie,” she posits quietly. “Maybe Columbine finally found a husband and Jude wants to give the pair of you a chance.”

“I really don’t think that’s it,” I tell her, oddly wearied by the subject, but judging by the increasing volume of background noise, Rue’s about to be pulled away anyway.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she admits at the selfsame moment. “I’ll be back in a few weeks myself, but call me ASAP after your lunch with Jude, okay?”

“You got it,” I promise, and we hang up. I set the phone on my mattress, next to the photo of Gale Hawthorne from the state hockey finals seven years ago, and sigh.

I haven’t seen him since the reception after Ashpet’s baptism, and it wasn’t the most auspicious encounter.

I’d never struck a man before – or since – and certainly never in a church basement.

“Magpie?”

My father pokes his head through the open doorway. “Movers just got here,” he says. “Is your room ready to go?”

I tuck the picture of Gale inside my battered paperback of Jane Eyre, just behind the Candygram with the red ribbon threaded across the top and tied in a perfect, pressed, bow. “This is it,” I affirm, and slip the book into my purse before following my father downstairs.

As a tween I was enamored of the 1995 remake of Sabrina and resolved to head off to school with a photo of Gale – obligingly supplied by Jude, who worked on the yearbook – to pin on my bulletin board and systematically cover with playbills, flyers, ticket stubs, and the like. But I could never quite bring myself to obscure him completely, and when I went to London for my semester abroad I brought him there too, to try and forget in a foreign land.

The book is a Gale token too, also obtained for me by Jude.

I finagled to take Senior Lit in spring of my junior year in order to free up an elective senior year and as a result took the class with Jude. The first book on the slate was Jane Eyre – which I loved, somewhat to my surprise – and in true high school fashion, each copy had a log card inside the cover for the present user to write their name on, beneath the names of the book’s previous readers. Of course, neither Jude nor I got Gale’s but we knew someone had it, and at Jude’s graduation party – months after all the books had been checked back in – he stole me away to his room to press the prized copy into my hands.

I think you were looking for this, he said as I opened the cover, frantically scanned the names inscribed therein and threw my arms around him with a shriek.

But Jude, I realized, pulling back with a start, you swiped this; what if they won’t let you graduate-?

I just did, he reminded me gleefully, and the diploma is signed, sealed, and securely secreted in Mom’s wall safe as we speak. Anyway, it wasn’t my copy, so even if they do notice it’s missing, it’s not me they’d come after.

I looked back at the last name on the card – Annie Cresta – and shook my head at him. If she gets in trouble for this, I warned.

She won’t, he promised. They don’t care that much about one of twenty-three beat-up paperbacks, and it means a whole lot more to you than to the school.

I hugged him again, fiercely this time, and he curled his arms around me with a little sigh. I’m so glad you like your present, mädchen, he murmured. I know it’s not you graduating, but I wanted to beat the rush.

I spent most of Senior Lit associating Gale with Mr. Rochester, to Jude’s clear chagrin, which was curious as he didn’t seem to like the character any more than he did my sullen, dark-haired crush. I’ll grant you similarities, he agreed, but can you imagine Gale delivering that beautiful string speech in any universe?

We took our Jane Eyre final on Valentine’s Day, and in the class directly following I received an anonymous Candygram with a strawberry lollipop affixed, a red ribbon painstaking woven through neat holes punched across the top and tied in a small bow, and the handwritten message:

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you – especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”

I wished so badly for it to be from Gale – never mind he wasn’t even in school anymore, let alone inclined to quote Charlotte Brontë – or maybe that I had some other mysterious tall-dark-and-handsome admirer, but I knew exactly who it was from and let my head fall against his shoulder as we sat next to each other in the choir room, his literary Valentine cupped in my hands.

Jude’s breath caught a little at the gesture, then leveled out in a long slow sigh.

Thanks, Jude, I whispered.

We both knew it wasn’t a real love note but I treasured it as one just the same, pressed between the pages of my student planner until finding a worthier setting inside Gale’s copy of Jane Eyre. The book and Candygram went everywhere with me – every summer camp and weekend trip during my senior year and in college, on every choir tour, every visit back home, all across Europe on my backpacking trip with Rue and then on to my bedside table in England. If I couldn’t lay hands on it at a moment’s notice I’m not sure I’d be able to breathe.

The movers are quiet and efficient and the truck is loaded in a fraction of the time we anticipated, prompting Dad and me to hash out the pros and cons of setting out tonight instead, but there are plenty of last-minute little things to wrap up and we’d all prefer to make the drive on a good night’s sleep – which unfortunately, is not to be had for me. Dad booked us a hotel room in the suburbs for convenience, so we could check out of the loft as soon as the truck was loaded and leave in the morning without having to wait for one last walk-through with the landlord, but while he and Mom drift off quickly in their queen bed, I frown up at the ceiling from the sofa sleeper, contemplating Jude and Jane Eyre.

The capitol is a long way off, mädchen…

My junior year – Jude’s senior year – was like high school is in the movies: a charmed, wonderful dream that feels like it’ll never end. In October Peeta finally plucked up the nerve to ask Katniss out, and their relationship brought both her and I – and to a lesser extent, Rue – firmly into the Mellark circle. Jude and I had been friendly before that, but he’s both cousin and close friend to the Mellark brothers, and as a result he and I were thrown together almost constantly at meals, school events, even youth group outings. We jokingly called these “triple dates” or “quad dates” sometimes, since the rest of our group consisted of fast-and-firm couples – Peeta and Katniss, Luka and Johanna, and often Finnick and Annie as well – but no one ever seemed to take the idea of Jude and me as a couple seriously.

We were madrigal seat partners that December, which necessitated all kinds of marriage banter throughout the dinners, then after Christmas came Senior Lit and Jane Eyre and auditions for school’s production of Fiddler on the Roof. Determined not to miss out on a role when my best friends were undeniable shoo-ins, I dyed my hair a deep chestnut-brown the night before my tryout – solidly shocking everyone in my acquaintance, but it served its purpose when I was cast as Tzeitel. I’d had my hopes set on playing any one of the sisters and forgot until the read-through that I was playing the one whose wedding is a major showpiece of the play – and that I would be marrying Jude, made even more endearing in little round glasses.

I’d never had so much fun, before or since.

I left most of my high school mementos at home when we moved to the capitol but the Fiddler album has stayed with me, and from time to time I page through the photos, the notes that came with flowers from my parents and teachers, the programs that we all signed – and the subsequent ridiculous everyday notes from Jude addressed to “Wifey” and “Mrs. Kamzoil.”

Prom came around in April and our school required everyone to attend in pairs, so it was effectively decided over youth group pizza after a highway trash cleanup that I would be going with Jude. I’d nourished a pipe dream that Gale might magically materialize and ask me to go with him – you could attend with someone who had graduated and it happened now and again, with college freshmen coming back to escort their girlfriends – but when he actually did appear at the dance it was with Leevy, his flavor-of-the-month girlfriend, if the rumors were to be believed.

I still had my brown hair at prom-time, which Jude lamented to no end while alternately telling me that I was “gorgeous just the same” and making me laugh at the silliest things. The dance was a blast for the first two hours, and then Katniss and Peeta quietly revealed to our group that they were engaged, with plans to marry the following spring after graduation.

Their courtship had been rapid and intense – emotionally, not physically – and no one was surprised that marriage was forthcoming, but the timetable was shocking to say the least. None of us believed that Katniss was pregnant or anything of the sort but they were both barely seventeen, and neither had any interest in going on to college. Peeta had a career waiting at the bakery he loved and Katniss was supremely adaptable to almost any kind of work – and neither was closing the door on trade schools or vocational degrees, if a good fit should present itself. They had decided – rather practically – to spend their senior year planning the wedding and finding a home rather than fretting over the ACT and college applications, and they would get married at the end of May, before the weather got too hot and everyone headed off to college.

It was a preposterous and entirely sound plan.

Peeta and Katniss skipped the school-sponsored after-prom party, unsurprisingly, while the rest of us splintered off into contemplative pairs. Finnick and Annie and Luka and Johanna both seemed as good as engaged to me, but the announcement had rattled them as well, and Jude and I wound up watching the smarmy stage hypnotist by ourselves in a subdued sort of silence.

It wasn’t that either of us was unhappy at the news, exactly. While I considered Katniss my best friend, we had never been chatty in typical girlfriend-fashion, and yet her impending marriage struck my stomach like an icy stone. You’ll be going to college anyway, I reminded myself, and you’ll stay in touch, but none of this served to soothe.

Jude absently wrapped his tux jacket around my shoulders and then his arm, resting his cheek on the top of my head. He’d barely spoken since the engagement reveal and I couldn’t begin to guess what his uncharacteristic silence meant.

It sounds really nice, he said suddenly, softly. Staying right here, getting married, coming home to a wife and babies.

I wanted to retort something dry and mildly caustic but couldn’t find the words for any reply at all because it was nice, this future Peeta and Katniss were setting up for themselves. I wanted to continue with music as long as I could; to study abroad, to live in the capitol and maybe other cities in due course,, but that wasn’t the future either Katniss or Peeta wanted, and why should they force themselves through the college mold, going eyes-deep in debt for degrees they had no interest in and possibly jeopardizing their relationship with the distance and other, inevitable, obstacles when the future they both craved was easily within their grasp?

Madeline, Jude continued in that same soft tone – I was always Madeline or, affectionately, mädchen to him – if Columbine and Gale marry other people, will you go on a date with me?

Almost as long as Jude and I have been friends, we’ve been aware of each other’s hopeless longing for an oblivious sweetheart and openly commiserated about it, with no fear – or even thought – of annoying each other or hurting feelings. Butcher’s son Jude was in love with Columbine Wilhearn, all black curls and lovely voice, whose mother was a small-scale – if highly in-demand – clothing designer and I was in love with broody, breathtaking Gale, whose mother managed the local laundromat and who despised my very existence because, as the mayor’s daughter, I had surely been born to privilege – never mind that my father had been a music teacher before his election and that as mayor he served a rural town of some 8000 people and dealt with weighty matters like dog waste ordinances and ribbon cuttings for tiny antique shops.

We’d both made periodic, futile attempts to elicit our respective crush’s attentions, but somehow for the course of that year – the year of madrigal seat partners and Jane Eyre and getting married on-stage in Fiddler – the longing had felt a little less pressing. Jude still ordered flowers for Columbine on opening night – she was playing the female lead, after all – but in other circumstances he would’ve done so for every performance, not just the first, and he brought me flowers too – a vaseful of red tulips from his mother’s garden to brighten my corner of the greenroom. And while I knew he’d asked Columbine to prom their junior year – and been turned down, of course – I don’t think he even tried the next time around, just cheerfully stepped up to escort me when the opportunity arose.

In fact, to the outside observer, Jude and I probably appeared to be dating for the past year.

The realization left me cross, embarrassed and oddly weary. Jude and I were just friends, everybody knew it, but could we have inadvertently sabotaged each other’s crushes by spending so much time together? Would Gale have emerged to ask me out if I hadn’t been so immersed in the Mellark circle this year – and in Jude’s company in particular?

We’re at prom, I reminded him, my tone shorter than he deserved. I’m wearing an evening gown and your tux jacket. How much more of a date do you want?

I want to pick you up at your house, he replied without hesitation, a brush of lips against my lilac-threaded crown braid. Just you and me and maybe your dad on the porch, to shake hands and talk about the weather and remind me to have you back by 10:00, and I’ll tell you how beautiful you look as I slide an orchid on your wrist. We’ll go to a fancy restaurant and trade bites of our entrees and steal a pepper shaker when we leave, just to see if we can get away with it. We’ll hold hands under the table and slow-dance like it means something, not just because we came together and it’s obligatory, and when I drop you at home, you might let me kiss you under the porchlight.

I pulled away to look up at him, at those gentle smoky eyes – gray like Gale’s and yet absolutely, utterly, nothing like Gale’s – and tried to decide whether to throttle him or burst into tears, because I knew he didn’t mean any of this the way it sounded but it was still the sweetest thing I’d ever heard – and remains so to this day. But I didn’t want Jude – I didn’t, I was sure of it – and he didn’t want me, he was just getting broody – in the hen fashion, not the Gale fashion – because of Peeta’s engagement and Columbine had remained stubbornly indifferent to him, even in a tux or stage makeup or a doublet and tights.

Please, can I go home? I whispered. I’ll call my parents so you don’t have to leave.

Don’t be daft, he said lightly, but his eyes were sad. There’s nothing left to stay here for anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Columbine at the soda table laughing at something Gale had just said and was inclined to agree.

I didn’t go home, though Jude was more than willing to make the detour: I went to Rooba’s, because she had a spacious house and had invited our whole group to stay over after the after-prom party, to sleep till noon and enjoy a lazy brunch before going home. We were a remarkably well-behaved group of teens so it felt more like a church lock-in than anything else, except for the fact that I changed into my pajamas from an evening gown and slept in Lettie Wilhearn’s bedroom – sans Lettie, of course, Rooba having given her older kids the weekend off work and banished them to the lake cabin.

Jude didn’t say a word on the drive. When we got to his house he asked if I wanted anything to eat or drink, then obligingly disappeared after retrieving my overnight bag and directing me to the nearest bathroom.

I belatedly recalled that I was still wearing his tux jacket and intended to hang it on the back of Lettie’s desk chair when I turned in, but somehow I ended up taking it to bed with me as an additional makeshift cover, my nose burrowed in the comforting scent of his collar.

I dreamt about orchid corsages and hand-kisses and sneaking a pepper shaker into my purse and woke with sore, slightly puffy eyes, as though I’d cried myself to sleep. Lettie’s alarm clock read 11:18am in the blaring midday sun and in the papasan opposite me was Jude, curled up like a child with a pile of throw pillows under his tousled head. His eyes were open and contemplative and very carefully focused on the pillow adjacent to me.

Hey, I greeted him in a sleepy croak.

Hey, he replied softly, eyes flickering to mine. Do…do you hate me, mädchen?

I blinked rapidly, trying to think what he might have done to make me hate him or if he was just referring to the fact that we’d ended up sleeping in the same room, which didn’t bother me two pins. We’d fallen asleep on each other on the bus back from Knowledge Bowl tourneys and music competitions more times than I could count.

Why on earth would I hate you? I puzzled.

Because I…asked you out, he reminded me with a wince while still firmly maintaining eye contact, as though determined to stay strong for his sentencing.

At prom, I confirmed, a smile creeping irrepressibly across my mouth. It’s a bit like being in love with one’s own wife, Sir Percy. Demmed unfashionable.

The Scarlet Pimpernel was second on the Senior Lit slate and Jude had loved it just as much as I loved Jane Eyre.

Consequently, my remark won a grateful, crooked smile and I patted the bed beside me: an invitation Jude accepted without hesitation, stretching out his lanky frame with a groan and a breathless oof! as I flung my arms around his waist and pillowed my head on his chest.

I liked the smell and feel of Jude beneath my cheek. It felt like home – or going back there – and I think in that moment I finally realized those moments were numbered and swiftly counting down.

I’ve never been asked out before, you know, I reminded him. It was sweet; the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And anyway, you potentially asked me out, under a very specific set of circumstances.

True, he agreed, and that seemed to set everything to rights. Want go find some breakfast? he wondered, tracing my braid with a fingertip.

No, I replied firmly and nuzzled deeper into his t-shirt, hiding my face from the sun.

Me neither, he agreed, and curled his arms around me, hugging me snugly to him.

Jude had clearly passed a rougher night than me because he drifted off almost immediately and was still sleeping hard at 12:30, when the savory smells of Rooba’s thick-cut bacon and handmade sausages roused my belly and brain respectively. (I learned later that Luka and Johanna had commandeered Jude’s bed, not for anything sketchy, but that they were curled together and sound asleep by the time he finally made it there, hence being relegated to Lettie’s papasan – a fine place for reading and cat-naps but miserable for a night’s worth of sleep.) On my way to the bathroom I practically collided with Jenny, Jude’s fourteen-year-old sister, noshing on a bacon sandwich and voracious for gossip.

So are you and Jude together now? she demanded with all the cheerful frankness of their mother. I saw you cuddling in Lettie’s bed.

I had always adored Jenny Tolliver more than I would ever let on. She and Jude were the only full siblings among Rooba’s five children and the similarities were endearingly obvious, despite the fact that Jenny inherited their father’s stunning black hair where Jude was a tow-headed, gray-eyed hybrid.

That was snuggling, I corrected her. Small but crucial difference.

You should think about leveling up, she advised gravely. He adores you, you know, and I hear teenage weddings are coming back en vogue.

Go away, imp, I teased, unbothered by her implication. She’d wanted me and Jude to get together since our first season of Knowledge Bowl and stubbornly refused to acknowledge that we didn’t like each other that way. I need to find some coffee and then we can argue this further.

I’ll be waiting, she said gleefully, stepping aside to let me into the bathroom.

But Jenny and I never reconvened for that argument, because that afternoon was the start of the slow crumble of the perfect high school year. Not because of anything to do with Jude or prom or Katniss’s engagement: because of something I overheard on my way to the kitchen that ended up being far more significant than I could’ve imagined.

Rooba and Marek – the Mellarks’ bachelor uncle – were preparing all the cooked food for the sleepy teenage brunch binge but Peeta’s father had stopped by with an assortment of pastries from the bakery and was on his way out again, talking to Rooba on the back porch, when I passed by en route to the kitchen.

So they’re young, she was saying. They’re hard workers with good heads on their shoulders, and they both went through the wringer at a young age. They know how to provide for a family and will do whatever it takes to put food on the table. They’ll do fine – better than fine, if we help them out a bit.

Janek Mellark’s response to this wasn’t clear – something about waiting – and Rooba replied in a strange, edged tone: Would you wait if Alys was willing?

I moved away before I could hear his reply, if indeed he made one, and enthusiastically engaged burly, cheerful Marek in a debate as to which of his offerings – stuffed French toast, chocolate chip pancakes, or Belgian waffles – would be the best to start off with, but there was a hot thudding in my ears and my eyes couldn’t seem to focus.

Alys, of course, was Katniss’s mother Alyssum – my mother’s best friend and confidante from childhood to the present – and I knew through my mother that Alys and Janek Mellark had been high school sweethearts on the very cusp of getting engaged when she unexpectedly broke up with him to get together with Jack Everdeen. Janek married Raisa Brognar – Rooba’s younger sister – on the rebound and everyone had gone on to produce their respective children and find varying degrees of contentment in their lives, but by all accounts, the Mellarks had rarely if ever been happy together, and of course, Katniss’s father died six years ago, leaving Alys bereft and in a stupor of grief, not unlike my own mother when her twin sister died at sixteen.

According to my mother, Alys Everdeen and Janek Mellark had carefully avoided each other since their breakup in high school, but when Peeta and Katniss began dating, they were thrown together to a certain extent and forced to interact socially. Further, in an unguarded moment that winter, Janek had admitted to Alys that he was still in love with her – feelings, Alys confessed to my mother afterward, that she was troubled to find she returned.

Of course, I discussed this with no one but my mother, though many a time I’d ached to confide in Jude, since we were similarly on the fringes of this relationship – not directly involved but connected through our mothers and their own relationships with the couple in question.

Something about Rooba’s remark that morning after prom implied that things were changing or had done, maybe irrevocably, and when I asked my mother about it that afternoon she gave a long sigh and kissed my forehead as though I were still a little girl. Do you really want to know, petal? she wondered. It might be easier to be ignorant till it all comes out.

Of course, I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t wanted to know, and that’s how I learned what happened after the newly engaged Peeta and Katniss left for prom. About the argument that ensued when Alys furiously confronted Janek about his son’s proposal – and what happened after the argument.

I suppose it shouldn’t have come as that great a shock, but when you hear about a classmate’s parents getting divorced, you don’t think about his father sleeping with another classmate’s mother – or getting her pregnant. But it was some months before all of that came out, months when I could almost forget the secret burning in the back of my mind as the perfect year wound down to its inevitable, poignant end.

#the one that got away #fic bits #jude/madge #jude tolliver #modern au

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noona-clock · 6 years

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iKonic Fairy Tales: Snow White

A modern fairy tale series in collaboration with @cramelot - stay tuned next week for the next story featuring a new member! ✨

Genre: College/Neighbor!AU

Pairing: Donghyuk x You

By Admin B

🍎Part 1, 2, 3, 4

Once upon a time, a few years ago, right at the beginning of your freshman year of college, you had been in desperate need of a job.

Your parents had both tragically passed in an accident within the past year, and while they did leave you with somewhat of a comfortable sum of inheritance, you had to use most of it to pay off their debts as well as your school tuition.

So for the first few weeks of the semester, you searched the newspapers, you searched CraigsList, you walked around looking for ‘Now Hiring’ signs. But no luck.

Finally, a girl you sat next to in your History of Music class mentioned she was a nanny but couldn’t keep working because she needed to take extra classes and wouldn’t have time.

You immediately jumped on the chance, and she gave you the family’s contact number (though she was strangely hesitant, but you decided not to worry too much about that).

Fast forward to a couple of weeks later, and you were officially able to call yourself a nanny for five children.

Now fast forward to the present, and those five children had turned into seven.

Yes, seven children.

You liked to think of yourself as a modern-day Maria Von Trapp.

So, let’s introduce the little ones, shall we?

First, we have the oldest, and the smartest, Roy. He was, naturally, the leader of the bunch and liked to give orders to his younger siblings.

Second, we have Piper, one half of the first pair of twins. Maybe it was because she was so close to being the oldest but wasn’t and she was bitter about that, but for some reason, this girl was always in a pretty foul mood. There was a perpetual pout on her lips and a constant furrow on her brow.

Third, we have the other twin and Piper’s exact opposite, Otis. You had never seen this kid in a bad mood; he was always smiling and laughing and cracking jokes and looking on the bright side. Piper hated him, of course, so you always made sure to keep those two separate.

Fourth, we have Penelope. You... kind of weren’t sure what Penelope’s personality was like because she always seemed to be sleeping. Or wanting to go to sleep. You were forever having to hang her homework up to dry because she would drool on her paper.

Fifth, we have Eddie. He was probably your favorite (if you had to pick) because, while he wasn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, he was incredibly sweet and very attached to you.

Sixth, we have one-half of the other pair of twins, Scotty. You were thankful you had already been around when he was born because, if he’d had to meet you when you started as the other kids had, you probably never would’ve gotten to know him. You’d never met somebody so shy and quiet, but you also had never met somebody so caring and kind.

Last but not least, we have Scotty’s twin, Billy. Ever since Billy was a baby, he suffered from severe allergies. The poor kid was always sneezing, and no amount of Benadryl or Claritin seemed to help. You had learned to always have a large box of tissues on hand whenever you were at their house.

It would be remiss of me not to mention the children's’ parents, of course, for they were your bosses. The father was somewhat -- kind of -- out of the picture because his line of work called for almost constant travel.

Why they decided to have seven kids when the father was basically always gone, you would never understand.

But, anyway.

The mother was around, though, and while she was very polite and one of the most elegant and graceful women you’d ever met, she...

Well, to be quite frank, she wasn’t the most nurturing of mothers.

She was fairly strict with her children, and she could sometimes get snippy with you if she felt you weren’t living up to her standards as a nanny. In fact, you and the kids called her The Queen when she wasn’t around. (Piper even called her The Evil Queen sometimes, but you always hushed her instantly.)

But she paid you quite well, and you’d come to dearly love all seven children, so you never even thought about leaving.

Suffice it to say, The Queen and her husband made more than enough money for a family of nine, and they lived in an incredibly large, incredibly nice house in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the city. You always felt kind of weird getting there by bus, but you couldn’t afford (or even really needed) a car. Plus, at least three of the kids would always run down the driveway to greet you as you walked up. It filled your heart right up, even if you’d had a bad day at school.

Since you and the kids hardly ever ventured out of the house (except for some playtime out in the backyard every once in a while), you had never met any of their neighbors. You’d barely even seen any, in fact; it seemed rich people were either never at home or never left the house.

This afternoon, though, as you were strolling down the street toward your place of work, you noticed a moving van in front of the house next door.

It was still a wonder to you how anyone could afford such a huge house, but that didn’t stop you from being nosy. You glanced over as you approached The Queen’s house, your eyes widening as you watched the movers carrying in the most beautiful, most expensive-looking furniture you’d ever seen.

Wow. Were these people even more loaded than The Queen?

All of a sudden, a high-pitched voice calling out your name interrupted your thoughts.

“Eddie!” you greeted, your lips pulling into a huge smile when you saw his sweet face. No matter what, Eddie was always one in the group coming out to greet you.

Eddie ran up to you, flinging his arms around your middle and squeezing you in greeting.

“We have new neighbors,” Otis pointed out as he skipped down the driveway toward you. Piper was following behind him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and practically stomping her feet.

“I can see that,” you replied, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Have you met them yet?”

“Well, only the son,” he told you. “But he’s a lot older. He said he’s in college, so he’s probably old like you.”

“Oh?” A rich guy about your age? Okay, you couldn’t stop yourself from being just a little bit jealous. You would give anything to be able to live with your parents and not have to worry about paying for college.

“He was super nice!” Eddie told you with a somewhat dopey grin. “His name is...”

“Donghyuk, you dodo,” Piper spat.

“Piper,” you warned, giving her a look which clearly said she shouldn’t be calling her brother that.

“Right! Donghyuk,” Eddie nodded. He was still hanging onto you, making it a bit difficult for you to walk down the driveway, but you could manage. “He said we can go over and play with his pinball machine any time. And the bowling alley!”

What?! A house which had a pinball machine and a bowling alley?! You almost couldn’t comprehend it.

“He does seem nice,” you replied as you rubbed Eddie’s back. “You’ll have to ask your mom about going over there, though.”

“Oh, great,” Piper muttered with a roll of her eyes. “We’re never going.”

“Come on, guys,” you chuckled as you all approached the walkway to the front door. “Let’s get inside and start on your homework.”

You greeted the other four children once you walked in and hung up your jacket, and they also proceeded to tell you about their new neighbors. All of them, even Scotty who barely spoke, were basically gushing about how nice and cool (and cute, according to Penelope) this Donghyuk was.

It made you very curious to meet him, to be honest.

But not even half an hour after you’d arrived, and thoughts of the new neighbor had already floated from your head.

I mean... you were watching seven kids, after all. Your focus tended to be on them and making sure nobody got injured in some way.

When the clock finally struck 7, and you saw the headlights of The Queen’s car coming down the road, you scrambled to get all the kids looking neat and put together; she did a daily inspection when she got home from work, and you’d learned quickly to make sure none of the kids had even a hair out of place.

“All right, friends,” you said with a clap. “Time to line up, your mother is pulling into the driveway. Eddie, come here, your hair is a mess.”

You licked your palm and smoothed the wild strands down, your brow furrowing. And then your heart skipped a beat when you heard the key in the front door.

You quickly pressed your index finger to your lips before clasping your hands in front of you and turning to face where The Queen would be in just a few seconds.

“I’m home,” she called out, sounding far more serious than any mother arriving home you’d ever heard.

“Good evening,” you greeted her, a smile plastered on your lips. “Homework is all done, dinner is prepared, and the children are ready for inspection.”

Honestly, you were so used to this little routine by now, you didn’t even think about the fact that it was really, really weird The Queen had her kids line up for an inspection.

Like... really weird.

“Good evening,” The Queen replied, returning your grin with a tight-lipped one of her own. Her heels clacked as she sauntered down the hall, arriving in front of Roy. She patted his cheek before moving on to Piper then Otis, Penelope, Eddie, Scotty, and finally, Billy.

“I assume there was no trouble with your teacher?”

The kids were homeschooled, taught by the most sought-after, exclusive, expensive private tutor in practically the whole country.

“No, ma’am,” all seven kids replied in unison.

“Good,” The Queen nodded. She then turned to you, nodding once to signal your release for the evening.

You quickly snuck a wave to the kids before tiptoeing down the hall, grabbing your jacket, and slipping out the front door.

You let out a soft sigh, breathing in the cool, fresh air and beginning your walk down the driveway. The bus stop was down by the entrance to the neighborhood, and on nights like tonight, you were glad for the walk. It gave you time to think and remember everything you had to be grateful for.

But just as you passed the family’s mailbox, you heard a voice.

“Hey,” it said.

You jumped a little, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest at the surprise.

“Sorry!”

You turned to see who the voice belonged to, your eyes landing on a very nice and sweet-looking guy.

He could only be Donghyuk, the new neighbor the kids had been telling you about earlier.

“Hi,” you replied with a polite smile. “It’s okay, you just startled me.”

“I’m Donghyuk,” he told you, holding his hand out toward you. You shook it and introduced yourself back.

“Actually, the kids told me about you,” you revealed with a bit of a smirk.

“Oh? Are you --”

“I’m their nanny,” you explained. You’d interrupted him before he could ask if you were their sister; you didn’t want to make him feel awkward by telling him you were, in fact, far too poor to ever live in a place like this.

“Oh, wow,” Donghyuk chuckled, looking rather impressed. “That’s a lot of kids.”

“It is,” you agreed with a little nod. “But they’re good apples.”

It seemed Donghyuk had a sudden thought because his brow furrowed, and he began looking around for something.

“Are you... how do you get home?”

“Oh, I take the bus,” you told him, gesturing over your shoulder in the general direction of the bus stop.

He immediately looked a bit wary, and you couldn’t help but think he was just too adorable.

“It’s getting dark... are you sure you feel safe out here on your own?”

“Yes, I’ve done it plenty of times,” you assured him with a slight smirk.

“I can give you a lift if you’d like.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t make it a habit to accept rides from strangers.”

Donghyuk nodded, his worried expression morphing into an impressed one. “You’re smart. I totally understand.”

You nodded in agreement before letting out a little sigh and lifting your shoulders into a shrug. “I... should probably get going. My bus comes in, like, five minutes.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Donghyuk said with a bashful chuckle.

“It was nice to meet you, though,” you said, eyebrows raised.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

And then his shy smile turned into a full-blown one, and wow.

He was quite possibly the cutest guy you’d ever seen.

“See ya around,” he said as you slowly turned on your heel to leave.

Yeah. You sure hoped he did.

Part 2

Tagging @sun-shinee-world @leilaammartin @daelicious-jongbulge @sweg-imsorrywhatwasthat @baekinmylife @xiusmybeautifulnightmare @lost-girl-inc @brie02 @peach-sm @jong-yixing @haveanotherkpopblog @sundropsoo @constellxtion @akutagawahakuryuunosuke @lazypostfandomer @cupcakemintylash @smut-wars @mistressoflight22 @veryhotkpop @chanyeolol @shawoltzen @garlandcrowns @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @nicht-so-schnell @jinhuwuan @dark-changbin @lafilleestmorte @tokyoseo @prettywordsyouleft @digitalizeduniqueness @this-song-thats-only-for-you @zhangjingyou @hmyzone55 for updates! Readers, let me know if you would like to be added to this list!

-Admin B

Master list // RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins

#ikon #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ikon au #ikon fluff #donghyuk #kim donghyuk #donghyuk scenarios #donghyuk imagines #donghyuk au #donghyuk fluff #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #admin b #collaboration series

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somerandomwriter1234 · 6 years

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Riley and Maya: I Think I Wanna Marry You - Chapter 8 (Married Life Begins)

Riley woke up in a large bed and looked at Maya laying next to her on her side already awake. The two girls smiled as Riley said, "Hey." Maya then said, "How ya doin honey?" Riley then said, "Just happy I get to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of our lives. How long have you been up?" Maya then said, "About an hour." Riley then said, "Well you could've started to shower or have breakfast or something. You don't have to get out of bed at the same time as me." Maya then said, "I know. I just like looking at you while you sleep. So cute and innocent." Riley giggled and said, "I love you. You know that?" Maya then got up top of Riley and kissed her on the lips for a solid minute. Once they finished kissing, the two embraced the other tightly with their arms as Maya said, "Just being with you like this... it's the greatest feeling in the world." Riley then said, "It's too bad this is the last morning of our honeymoon. This hotel is just so perfect." Maya then said, "Well lets just be glad my college scholarship included free housing for myself and my spouse. So even though both of our funds are low, we still get to live the happy married life essentially for free. Pretty good deal all things considered." Riley then said, "Yeah. Although with our low funds, it stinks we couldn't hire movers to help us with our things." Then Maya said, "Don't worry. Zay, Farkle and Smackle said they'd come here in the afternoon to help us move our things. So no worries. Now then..." Maya then began to sit up as she said, "You prepare breakfast while I prepare a special present for you." A smiling Riley said, "Ooo. One more wedding present. So exciting."

Riley who was now wearing a tied up bath robe was beginning to brew some coffee in the kitchen area of the hotel room. Riley then heard a knock on the door and said, "Hmm. Who could that be?" Riley then went over to the door and opened it seeing Zay, Smackle, and Farkle. A surprised Riley said, "Guys. What are you doing here?" Farkle then said, "You said to come over and help you start moving late, after noon. So here we are." Riley then said, "No. I meant in the late afternoon. Like around 4 or 5pm. Not just after 12pm. Me and Maya aren't ready to go. In fact we weren't expecting company after..." Suddenly the four heard Maya say, "Time to open your present Riley." Suddenly Maya stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a bath robe. Maya then began to open her bath robe up as she said, "It's time for your naughty gift and... OH MY GOD!" Maya then became freaked out as she saw Zay, Smackle, and Farkle at the door. Maya immediately tied her bath robe back up while Zay covered his eyes, Smackle stood in shock, and with wide eyes Farkle said, "Whoa... it's one of my middle school fantasies come to life." Smackle then hit Farkle in the shoulder and Farkle then said, "OW! Sorry Smackle. I mean she doesn't look nearly as good as you when you did that same thing for me on my birthday." Smackle then hit Farkle in the shoulder very hard and Farkle then said, "OW! Sorry I blabbed about that, but cut me some slack. It's not like I told them about your secret stash of special photos you shared with me." Smackle then hit Farkle in the shoulder extremely hard and then Farkle said, "OW! Okay, I'll stop talking now." Maya already went back into the bathroom to hide as Riley said, "Just come back in an hour okay?"

Riley and Maya both walked down a small hallway with bags as Riley said, "It's too bad we had to wait in the lobby for four hours before the dorm manager could come back and give us our room keys. We couldn't even have our friends help us carry our stuff in." Maya then said, "Eh, it'll feel more like our place if we do all the heavy lifting ourselves. Now then, here's a room number. Riley my love, welcome to our new home." Maya then opened the door and then she and Riley gasped at what they saw. The two saw an open apartment with no furniture anywhere. A confused looking Riley said, "I thought there'd be at least tables, chairs, and kitchen cabinets." As the two began to look around their new dorm Maya said, "There's a working frig and oven which they did promise us. But no counter top to prepare food on. No cabinets to store food in. No place to eat. Nothing to sit on. Not even a bed." Riley then said, "What's with this!? We got ripped off! It's time we start complaining to somebody!"

Riley and Maya stood in front of a young man sitting behind a desk who said, "This was in the fine print when you signed the paperwork. There's nothing else we can do." Maya then said, "But come on. A dorm with no furnishings? There's gotta be rules against that." The young man then said, "Some dorms do have furnishings already present but there's no law guaranteeing that. Plus you both moved into a brand new dorm. Like people moving into a brand new house, there's no guarantee that furniture will be present. You should've looked at the photos we provided you of the place before you came in." Riley then said, "But we were busy planning our wedding and..." The young man then said, "Look. You're just gonna have to take care of this yourself. I'll keep an eye out if anybody moving into the old dorms is getting rid of any furniture there. But that's the best I can do." Maya sighed and then said, "Thank you." Riley and Maya then began to walk away as Maya said, "Only we don't have any money to buy any furniture." Then Riley said, "Well... not yet anyway."

In their dorm room Riley held her cell phone up as she was in the middle of a video chat with her parents: Cory and Topanga. An upset looking Riley said, "No!? What do you mean no!?" Topanga then said, "We're not loaning you money Riley. You and Maya have a roof over your head and food. You're just going to have to make the most of your situation." An upset Riley said, "Make the most of our situation!? Mom, we're going to have to eat our meals on the floor. We don't even have a couch to get cozy on together that we can watch movies on and..." Topanga then said, "Riley, marriage isn't just about comfort. It's about dealing with hardships together." Then a mad looking Riley said, "But what about family helping us through our hardships? I mean can't you see that..." Then a stern looking Cory said, "No Riley. You made a choice. A choice to get married to Maya and begin a new family with her. And you said you were ready for that after we said it wasn't going to be easy. Did you think we were kidding? Did you think you two were just gonna play house the rest of your life and we would just always be there to bail you out of trouble? I know this isn't easy to hear Riley but it's you and Maya's world you're living in now. Not ours. It's up to you to solve this yourselves. Goodbye." The screen then went black as a sad looking Riley said, "Goodbye."

Maya was laying on the floor covered by a blanket while looking at her phone while Riley sat down next to her. Riley sighed and said, "My parents won't help us." Maya then said, "Mine neither. And it gets worse. I was just doing some math on the food allowance my scholarship gives us. It's enough money to cover one person's eating expenses but not two." A scared looking Riley said, "You mean I have to starve now!?" Maya made a small smirk and said, "No honey. You're not going to starve. But it means by the middle of the month, we'll run out of food money. Which means... we're going to have to find another source of income fast. I mean we can just store food in boxes and have dinner on the floor but... it's gonna mean nothing if we can't eat at all." Riley then said, "You mean... we have to get jobs!?" Maya then said, "No. To maintain my scholarship and thus keep this dorm, I need to take classes full time and keep my grades up. Which is gonna take a lot of my week to maintain. So Riley... you are going to have to find a job." An upset looking Riley said, "What? But wait. We were gonna be freshmen in school together at the same time. Yeah, we wouldn't be taking the same classes at the same campus but it was gonna be kind of like high school and..." Maya then said, "We're not in high school anymore honey. You have to do this... for us." Riley sighed and laid on her side as she said, "I thought this marriage thing was gonna be easy. I thought..." Maya then laid on her side and touched Riley's chin with her hand as she said, "Hey. You've still got me. We're gonna get through this." Riley calmed down and said, "Yeah. Thanks Maya. I love you." Maya smiled as she said, "I know. I love you too. And no matter what... we'll take on the world... together."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Upcoming Chapters For the Series:

-Chapter 9: The Difficulties of Adulthood (Coming 3/24)

-Chapter 10: The Secret is Revealed (Coming 3/26)

-Chapter 11: Summer Camp Counselors Part 1 of 3 (Coming 3/28)

*Note - To read the entire series in one convenient location, click here - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13229693/

#girl meets world #girl meets world fanfiction #rilaya #rilaya married #riley and maya #riley x maya

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churchill01bland-blog · 6 years

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Previous City Movers In Philadelphia, PA 19122

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presleepthoughts · 6 years

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Power of the Internet 3

Summary: We moved in together - Chloe Beale

You can find the first one here and the second one here.

Hope you guys enjoy it :D

Suppressing a yawn, Beca stopped in front of the door and glanced down at her wrist watch, inhaling sharply. Waking up at 7 am on a Saturday to spent the day packing all of Chloe’s stuff into the truck and then unpack into their new house was going to be brutal. Sliding the sunglasses over her eyes, Beca rang the doorbell and instantly heard the now grown Bella scraping her claws on the surface.

Not long after, Chloe pulled the door open and rushed her inside. She was in her white bathrobe, make-up halfway done and her hair in a loose bun. Beca gaped at her.

“You’re not ready?” She asked in disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest to show she was annoyed.

Chloe rolled her eyes and quickly pecked her lips, wobbling back inside her bedroom. “Babe, it’s 7:30 am. I just woke up. What do you want from me?”

As Beca walked to the bedroom, she noted the bare walls and several carton boxes on the ground. Chloe packed up her whole apartment nicely but Beca groaned at the thought of the heavy labor. Beca collapsed onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling.

“Exactly. It’s way too early for us to be up. Tell me again why do we have to move in the morning?” Beca whined tiredly and pushed the glasses off her head, rubbing her eyes with her fist.

She grabbed her mascara and continued doing her light make-up. “Because I have a lot of stuff and it’s gonna take us more than one day anyway so we might as well start early. The U-Haul is going to be here in 30 minutes and I still have to start my vlog.”

Beca snapped her head up, looking at the back of Chloe’s head with her eyes wide open. “No, Chlo we have too many stuff to do today. You can’t possible think about putting this mess on video.” She motioned at her face.

“It’s a special day in our relationship. I have to film it.” Chloe argued, focused on nailing her eyeliner. “I already mentioned it last week that we’re moving so they are expecting a video. I can’t let them down.”

Beca puffed but didn’t protest and laid back down, Bella quickly joining her beside her head. “Fine but please don’t put me in it.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. Tired Beca sometimes bordered on annoying but Chloe more times then not found her adorable. “Okay, baby. You can take a twenty minute nap if you want to but I’m waking you up as soon as the truck is here. We have a long day ahead of us.”

As soon as the clock hit 7:30, Chloe climbed on her bed carefully to avoid stepping on Bella who was draped across Beca’s stomach and crawled over her girlfriend. Leaning down slowly, she began to prep her face with little kisses starting at her forehead then proceeding down to her nose then finally kissing her lips.

Beca stirred as Chloe’s lips pressed down onto hers and quickly returning the kiss, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Bella whined at the added weight before slipping out between the couple and angrily laying down on the floor. Finally without a barrier, Chloe melted into the embrace and pulled away from the kiss.

“Good morning.” She whispered, wanting to maintain their bubble as long as possible because she knew their day’s about to be a little hectic. She pecked her lips a couple of times playfully while Beca toyed with her hair.

“Can’t we just stay here all day?” Her tone so soft and child-like Chloe hated denying her anything but she didn’t have a choice.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay here. You know how much I need cuddle time with you but think about it. When we moved into our home, we got to be like this all the time. No more driving back and forth and bouncing from one place to another. We’ll have a home. Together.”

“I know and I love the sound of that but the actual moving part...Chlo, we have to lift your whole apartment.” Beca exaggerated, making Chloe snort into her shoulder.

“I wasn’t the one who said no to hiring movers so don’t blame me. You brought this on yourself.” Chloe said and quickly pushed herself off Beca by her arms and get out of the bed. If she didn’t move, she knew Beca would hold her there all day long.

“Argh, I didn’t know you had so many stuff.” Beca whined before sitting up. “Besides they were too expensive. I could move three houses myself using the money they wanted.”

Chloe smoothed down her hair and chuckled. “I think we could’ve afford them, babe. We’re not exactly shortage on money at the moment.”

With Beca’s working on her debut album after producing three before and Chloe’s ever growing following on YouTube, money wasn’t a problem for the time being. Beca was always careful with their spending and it payed off when they bought their very first house right outside the city with a beautiful garden in the back yard.

Beca opened her mouth to argue when loud honking interrupted their conversation. Bella barked alarmingly and Chloe bounced on her toes in excitement.

“The truck’s here!”

Beca jumped up into the truck and grabbed the last box from the back. After successfully loading up the truck with Chloe’s belongings and Bella in the seat between them up front, Beca drove away while Chloe smiled emotionally at her first home. Beca squeezed her knuckles comfortingly and let her shed a couple of tears before she returned back to her Chloe.

Pulling up in front of the house, Beca felt her breath caught into her throat at the sight. Although, they were here a week ago to finalize paperwork, this time it felt different. She knew she was coming home.

They spent the whole morning and well into the afternoon, maneuvering around each other and moving back and forth between the front yard and inside the spacious living room. Chloe had the idea that for the time being, they should only put the boxes just inside the house and later on they could sort them out little by little.

And that’s how they worked until Beca had the pleasure of carrying the last box inside. Carefully jumping off the platform, Beca made her way to the sidewalk before two high pitched squeal sounded behind her. Cautiously turning around, Beca saw two teenage girls with their hands over their mouths and literally jumping up and down.

Beca’s eyes widen in fear.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” One of them screamed and Beca wanted to run back inside the house.

She loved her fans, knowing she would be nowhere without them but meeting face to face was scary for the brunette. Their fans were so passionate about their relationship that sometimes it bordered on creepy and Beca didn’t know how she felt about meeting them in front of their house. One word on Twitter and the next day, hundreds of girls and boys would be screaming in their front yard.

“Beca Mitchell! Oh my God. We’re such huge fans!” The two girls inched closer and unconsciously Beca took a step back. She needed to handle this carefully.

“H-Hey guys. How are you?” She asked, putting down the box by the gate and turning towards them. She prayed Chloe stays inside.

“No way!” The blonde girl gasped as her eyes flickered between the U-Haul and the box, connecting the dotes inside her head. “There’s no way Chloe Beale and Beca Mitchell are moving in my street! Alice, pinch me. This can’t be real.” She ordered dramatically holding her arm out for her girlfriend and when she still stood in front of her idol, she let out a squeal. “It is real!”

“Beca, can we get an autograph? Please?” The brunette - Alice - asked Beca seemingly calmer but the twitching hand gave away her facade.

“And a picture!” It came out more of an order than a question but Beca nodded.

“Let me go inside to grab a pen and a piece of paper, okay? I’ll be right back.” She said carefully and lifted the box again, walking away from the girls and safely inside her home. She could hear Chloe upstairs talking loudly, probably vlogging her house tour video she promised her fans while Bella slept on the couch. Beca quickly fished out a notebook and a pen from her purse and ran outside the yard.

The girls were still there, waiting as patiently as they could as Beca signed the papers and took two selfies with both of them individually. She was on the urge of bidding them goodbye when the front door opened and the three figures snapped their attention to the redhead watching back her footage on the camera.

“Baby, do you know where we put the tripod? I can’t find it anywhere and I kinda need - “ At the loud screaming, Chloe whipped her head up.

“Chloe! Oh my GOD!”

Beca deadpanned when Chloe yelped as well and ran to the girls, quickly wrapping both of her arms around them. To say Chloe treated her fans like family would be an understatement. The redhead always took the time to interact with her followers properly, giving them lots of hugs and kisses, signing everything they handed to her and doing an almost proper photoshoot to make sure they had the best experience.

The three girls chatted away a mile a minute as Beca stood frozen on the outside. At one point, Chloe even turned on her camera and introduced the girls, making them almost cry of joy.

Beca had to subtly pull her away and inside their home, but not before asking the girls politely not to say anything about their address online or any others and while Chloe wholeheartedly believed them when they promised, Beca wasn’t so sure but she couldn’t do anything about it at the moment, so she let it go.

As the sun set and the moon appeared, the young couple retreated back into their bedroom for the first time. They unpacked necessities like mugs and toothbrushes but were too tired to really start the process, opting to leave it for tomorrow.

Beca laid down on the mattress, stretching out limbs and taking up all the space on the queen size bed while Chloe showered and got ready for bed. A small smile blossomed on her face at the domestic feeling of it all.

Soon, Chloe came out of the en-suite bathroom and crawled on all four until she reached Beca’s lips, kissing her tenderly.

“I’m exhausted.” She whispered between nips, then collapsed on top of her wrapping her whole body around Beca.

The brunette ran her fingers lightly over Chloe’s spine, smoothing the redhead. “Did you shoot your video? You didn’t let down your fans?” She joked softly, her finger wounding up in Chloe’s hair, messaging her scalp lovingly.

Chloe smiled into her shoulders, chest heaving up and down in small laughter.

“No, I didn’t let them down. I upload the video next week.” At gentle rise and fell of Beca’s breathing started to lure her into sleep as they both remained silent.

Chloe was at the edge of slumber when Beca’s soft tone reached her ears.

“Welcome home, baby.”

#bechloe #pitchperfect #PitchPerfect2 #PitchPerfect3 #Anna Kendrick #brittany snow #beca mitchell #chloe beale #fanfiction #au #youtuber #vlogger #social media #romance

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