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perpetuallydaydreaming · 1 year

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ghost of a smile.

sirius said, “you fall in love with anything with a pulse.” so naturally james proves him wrong.

tags: james potter x reader,, they/them pronouns,, you’re a ghost,, sirius is vv protective of james,, wolfstar (it wasn’t supposed to be but then when i kept writing it just felt right),, crack,, age gap(???),, magical inter-racial relationships(???)

“prongs, it’s a fuckin’ ghost.”

“i love them.”

“it’s a ghost!” sirius punctuated the sentence by grabbing james by the shoulders and literally shaking him to sanity. but proved to be futile as the messy haired man clicks his tongue and shrugs off sirius’ hand as if it offended him.

“i know that, and my feelings won’t change. they make me feel alive.”

sirius groans, oh the irony, eyes wild in disbelief and turning to the rest, hopefully as exasperated and bewildered as he is. the look on his face as if saying, can you believe this guy?!

peter still looks disturbed and mooney looks like he’s trying to understand what james’ thought process was.

but that’s the thing. there is no thought. that’s why they’re in this situation in the first place. sirius likes to think there is no sane person to fancy an incorporeal being. much less, ugh, love them.

but leave it to james to prove him wrong. sirius almost laughs at the absurdity of it all.

“i know you like to go above and beyond expectations. but when i said you can fall in love with anything with a pulse, i didn’t mean for it to be a challenge.”

you cleared your throat, “i’m guessing this isn’t the best time.” you interjected sheepishly. hovering just a little above the floor. sirius thinks you almost look like a normal student. if normal students were translucent and dead.

when nobody said anything, but gave sheepish (remus and peter), worried (james) and judging (sirius) looks.

“i should just go and let you gentlemen talk things through. i’ll see you later james.”

“no don’t go,” he pouted. actually pouted! the love sick fool. “i’ll come with you.”

you shook your head, translucent hair swaying with the movement. “no it’s alright, you can stay and talk with your friends.” you smiled.

you gave him an encouraging nudge, or so to speak, since he can’t really feel you. because, again—dead.

james just nodded, and like a puppy, stayed.

once you were gone, remus was the first to speak,

“james, i think what sirius is trying to say here is how did this even happen?” remus asks softly, scratching his cheek, like he does when the puzzle he’s solving isn’t as easy as he thought it would be.

james sighs, he actually sighs like a besotted maiden, “i was— just a lost soul,” sirius blanched. “—wandering on this earth and then i met them, my beautiful love.”

“that isn’t the only lost soul that day, i bet.” sirius scoffs.

completely ignoring sirius now, james continues, “and then it just feels like everything clicked into place. they were always there when i needed someone to talk to. they were always so warm and kind. they always listened to me, they don’t make fun of my feelings. they don’t disregard them. they’re so beautiful and so smart. they’re crazy smart, knows a lot of things about history and all. you two would get along well, mooney.”

“they should know about history considering they died in it.” sirius hiss out but ultimately ignored.

“but james…” remus starts, and sirius almost sighs in relief at least somebody was also using their brain.

but then james interrupts, “i know they’re a ghost, and there’s not much else i can do about that. but remus, i can feel them. when we talk, i know they understand me and i don’t think i’ve ever felt this way about someone before.”

sirius rolls his eyes, having heard a similar speech when james said he fell in love with the store clerk in a muggle record shop in london.

sirius wanted so badly to scream out louder, in hopes to wake his friend from his delusion.

james clearly isn’t sound of mind right now. and it’s his duty as his best mate to help him. with the help of remus, they can do it. so he took the first step.

“james—“

“i think that’s beautiful james.” remus cut in.

sirius have never felt so betrayed in his life. and by remus of all people. and his face made sure to show this betrayal. lips curling into a horrified gape, eyes in a frenzy of rage.

remus clicks his tongue at him and covers his face with his large warm hand.

“thank you remus.” his crazy friend gave his crazier friend a lopsided smile.

hells, he was even blushing.

“are you fucking serious right now remus? they’re dead!” he shouted, muffled by remus’ hand.

remus ignored him turning to a now frowning james, “why don’t you go ahead and catch up with them while i talk to sirius quickly.”

james gave sirius a brief look and nodded. walking back, searching for the poltergeist in the castle.

“what’s wrong with you?!” remus hissed once james was out of sight.

sirius removing the hand on his mouth, growling as he says, “me?! i’m not the one getting it on with a soul, remus. what you’re okay with this?”

“yes,” remus gave a noncommittal shrug, “i’d be okay with it even if you were the one totally enamoured by a ghost.”

sirius gave him a dead look, “you’d be okay with your boyfriend in love with a ghost.”

remus rolls his eyes, a light dust of pink glowing on his cheeks and ears, “not like that, i just mean if the situation was different, you’d want somebody to support you. besides, it’s james, i’m sure this is all harmless.”

“harmless?! am i really the only thinking this is down right strange? i mean it’s a spirit for merlin’s sake! i know my family isn’t exactly picky with their romantic counterparts, fucking cousins and all, so i might not be the best person to defend my case. but this is a dead thing! a ghost. haunting hogwarts. that has to cross some boundary, right?”

remus softly groaning in frustration, “do you think i don’t know that? of course i think this is crazy! but what else could we do? when has james ever listened to us? especially with his penchant for following skirts.”

“and the occasional pants.” peter added with a shrug.

“it’s even crazier that you agree with me but is still willing to let this go on?!”

“if it’s anything like his previous escapades then i’m sure this won’t last as long.” remus sighs, rubbing his neck and stretching his neck.

“ultimately, let him make a fool of himself then. great idea.”

“i think we should trust james more,” peter shrugged, “i mean i’ve seen more weird pairings than a wizard and a ghost. my neighbour’s first boyfriend was a goblin, you know.”

remus lifts his hand to peter, as if to say, see? peter gets it!

“et tu peter?” sirius deadpanned. “traitors. both of you.” turning away as he swiftly walks away from the group.

“what did i do?” peter calls out to him.

“you, especially were no help!” sirius shouted back. his huffs and angry steps echoing in the stone castle.

if they weren’t going to stop james from being barmy then it’s up to him to stop this from going further.

it was a week later and james was still dating the damn ghost. he was even off celebrating some obscure couple holiday. maybe it was your death anniversary, who knows. sweet circe, james is down bad.

sirius slammed a thick dusty old book in the quiet corner of the library.

madam pince already looking over to them aggressively hushing the group.

remus immediately called out a flustered apology before turning to sirius to whisper.

“what is that?”

with smug grin and a hand on his narrow hips, “this, my sweet mooney, is the answer to our haunting problem.”

an ancient, dusty, dirty book that was practically falling apart titled, polly’s practical practices to the paranormal and poltergeists.

“i told you to leave it.” remus clicking his tongue and glaring at the overly smug man.

peter gingerly grabbed the book and started to comb through the pages. “how is this going to help?”

“go to page 189, it talks about exorcisms.” leaning over peter’s shoulders.

“you’re going to exorcist james’ lover?” the tone remus used was full of judgment and condensation. and sirius does not welcome that energy into his space. so, he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms— ready to shut down the negative energy.

“it also says on page 7 that ghosts are simply souls that are unable to cross through the spiritual realm. so if anything, i’m doing them a favour.”

peter chewing his lip in contemplation. “shouldn’t we tell james about this first?”

“james is biased, therefore his opinion is invalid.”

remus leaning back into his seat in a slump, “james is a grown man. he can decide for himself what he wants to do in his free time, even if that includes hanging around with a ghost all day.”

sirius feels a twitch in his eye coming. remus for every ounce of his prettiness, equates that to his stubbornness. so you can just imagine how stubborn this man is when he wants to be.

“babe,” sirius groans out, “i don’t understand how you can just let james make a fool of himself like this!—“ there’s a distinct shushing sound, and sirius looks over to sheepishly nod in apology, continuing in a much lower but just as aggressive tone, “he’s dating a fucking ghost, and i’m going to stop it, okay?”

remus levelled him with a glare. “have you even tried getting to know them?”

“the ghost?”

remus levels him with a stare, “they have a name.”

“whatever.” sirius scoffs before straightening up and looking at two of his friends betrayal dawning on his face, “don’t tell m—“

“i’ve gotten to know them very well actually, peter has too. hung out multiple times now.”

“you have? since when? how? why didn’t you tell me?”

peter, closing the book softly, “since james told us, they’re actually pretty cool. not as mental as the other ghosts for one.”

sirius gawks, the familiar sting of disappointment and betrayal brewing in his navel. “and you didn’t think to inform me of this development?!”

“mr. black, please leave the premises if you can’t keep the decorum expected in the library!”

“—sorry!” sirius calls back, before turning back to them, whispering harshly, “some friends you are.” swiftly grabbing the book back.

“someone has to be since you’ve refused to talk to james.”

“because he’s gone crazy, i don’t talk to crazy people— already had enough of that from my mother.”

remus now reaching for the book and reading the table of contents, “how do you even know if this book is accurate?”

sirius rolls his eyes, “it’s the only book left about ghosts,”

remus raised an eyebrow at that, “the only book left? or you just don’t know where to look?”

peter snickered. “considering this is the longest time he’s been in the library for the last six years, i’m guessing he doesn’t even have a library card.”

sirius let out a quiet gasp, petulant as he defends, “this is not the longest time, i know where the sections are.”

“right. well good luck on whatever it is you’re planning. if i wasn’t clear enough— i want no part of this whatsoever, assuming it all blows up in your face.” remus raising a scarred hand in the air and sauntering away.

sirius clicks his tongue, annoyed, “peter, hand me some parchment. i need to make notes about cleansing haunted areas.”

sirius already has a solid plan. he had thought of everything! he’s already practiced the ceremony in the dorms, with peter acting like the ghost. he even practiced drawing the runes and the enunciation of the incantations. he just needs to know where you usually reside in the castle, so he can draw the runes.

the only problem is, he doesn’t know where you are and what better way to know than from romeo, himself.

“james,” sirius calls out.

“here we go.” he hears peter wince, but resolutely ignoring him.

taking a deep breath, “i want to apologize for the way i acted, you deserve to be happy. and if they make you as happy as you say they do, then okay. as your best mate, i’m going to be more supportive of you.”

james, like a big softie that he is, immediately beamed a smile, grabbing sirius by the shoulders and crushing him into a hug.

“i knew you’d come around!” he gushed in his ear. sounding so utterly elated that he almost feels guilty for lying. but he has to do this. for james. “sirius you’re my brother! of course, i forgive you! i don’t think i can even go on for longer not speaking to you. bugged me like mad.”

remus all but looked at sirius in complete suspicion, which he ignores in favour of looking as earnest as he possibly could. peter looking down right nervous as his gaze filters through all three of them.

“to prove my support. i want to meet y/n and be their friend. get to know them a little bit better.”

and if it was even possible, james shone even brighter, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling in excitement. he hadn’t seen that look on his face for quite some time now. looking equivocally happy.

“let’s go right now!”

“now?!”

“yeah, they should be on the third floor.” james grinned. walking a brisk pace and everyone jogging to keep up.

“what are you doing?” remus whispered as he power walked beside him.

sirius feigned innocence, “i’m supporting my best mate.”

remus frowned, not buying it, “and this is after you exorcise them or? or do you plan on damning their soul now?”

sirius clicked his tongue, “you told me to support james and when i do, you doubt me. it’s like you don’t love me.”

“you better be supporting james or i swear to god—“

“so james!” looking ahead, resolutely ignoring the stare burning to the side of his face. “anything i should know before meeting this special apparition of yours?”sirius says, lips stretching into an easy smile.

james slowed his pace, perfectly chirpy to divulge any information about his lover. glowing pink on his cheeks as he starts, “well, they’ve been a ghost in hogwarts since 1902, they were sorted in—“

“do you know how they died?” sirius cut off. resulting in a rude elbow jab from remus and a small frown from peter.

“what?” he said indignantly. isn’t that a vital question to ask? asking how a ghost died?

“they said there was an incident, an ogre got into the castle and, um, killed them,”

yikes.

the book said ghosts may not know how they died. associating their willingness to pass because they haven’t had the closure to move on. though if you knew how you died, it seems counter-productive to tell you about your death in order for you to pass on. so that’s crossed out.

“so are they secretly disembowelled or something? like almost-headless nick?”

james looked back and pursed his lips, gaze turning a little bit sharper, “no, they look perfectly okay. beautiful even.”

oh sure, he thought.

“they do,” remus piped up giving him a stern look. as if he heard him, “very pretty.”

sirius rolls his eyes, “oh of course, puts veela’s to shame, i’m sure.” waving his hand, opting for nonchalance as he continues, “so, what do you usually talk about with them then? surely common interests with an old ghost is hard to find.”

“they’re actually quite young compared to the other ghosts. that’s why they mostly keep to themselves on this floor.”

sirius grimace, fighting a shiver down his spine. “yes being over sixty. very young.”

james glared at him, and he raised his arms in surrender, “just joking.”

“—we talk about a lot of things, quidditch is one.”

“quidditch.” he repeated. do ghosts even follow the leagues?

remus placing an arm around james, “they used to play quidditch, a chaser.”

“quite good too, found their name on past rosters in the library.” peter grinned.

james beamed, encouraged by the others to prattle on. louder and faster like he can’t help but talk about you. like he was just waiting for a reason to. “and they liked potions, helps me study sometimes—“

“study.” he repeated. “with your ghost lover.”

“—oh, we’re here! my love?” james calling out into the alcoves and the barren hall. “i bought my friends, are you here?”

and then like a chill going up his spine, you showed up. floating a hair just above the ground, making it look like as if you’re walking.

you were a pale translucent thing. he had hardly looked at you the first time he’s seen you. confidently thinking he didn’t have to until james inevitably moves on from you. frankly, he didn’t know what to expect once he saw you, again. maybe look a bit alive, since his very much alive friend is very much in love with you.

you looked pretty, sure. but it was nothing to write home about. certainly not the kind that he would be willing to overlook the state of your mortality. but yeah, sure, pretty.

he almost wants to rolls his eyes.

“james, i was going to look for you.” you breathed. looking equally enamoured.

“what for my love?” he asks.

then you noticed the other approaching individuals, “oh hello, remus, peter, and—?“

“this is sirius, remember? i told you about him, didn’t i?” james but all grinned, going up to you and raising his hand as if to touch you. if he even can.

you looked like thin sheets blowing in the wind. if thin sheets can talk and haunt.

“that you did.” you laughed, and then your hand started to look fuckin’ solid. like a solid, human hand grabbing james’ and even squeezing back.

“nice to see you again, y/n, how have you been?” peter smiled.

you shrugged, smiling a little strained. “still very much dead, and here. thanks.”

sirius looked at your joined hands. tight and secure.

remus nudges him out of stupor and he flashes a strained smile.

so you can materialize. at least that answers some questions. though it opens a new array of questions for him now. questions he has no problem vocalizing.

“you can materialize?”

you turn to him, looking beyond nonchalant and relaxed with the whole situation. you obviously also hold no objections to the peculiar relationship. looking all too willing to be james’ dead lover.

“if i try hard enough, yes.”

“how long can you materialize?”

“if it’s just my hands, i can probably hold for a good hour or so.”

the book didn’t mention this.

sirius looks at you, up and down, apprehensive and suspicious. “can every ghost do this then?”

“i think so, though i haven’t seen them attempt it. i’m guessing they never really had any reason to.” you turn to james and grin at him. like some secret was just shared.

james looked at you twice as bright and giddy. hopelessly, happy and pink.

sirius thinks he’s going to hurl.

“so, do you just go materializing your hand, touching school boys every decade or so?”

“pardon?”

“sirius!” remus hissed.

sirius smiles the fakest smile he has, “just a joke.”

you raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment. he can feel the heat of james glare and hear the insistent shuffling of peter to his side.

“why did you decide to date james? are you planning on possessing him for his living body?”

“sirius black!” remus grits out, pinching his side.

james stepped forward to shield you, a frown deep in his face, but you just tug at his arm, and he softens.

you laugh, “no, i don’t plan on possessing my boyfriend. as for why i’m dating him,” you turn to look at james again, sharing a secret smile again, “well, i quite like him.”

sirius clicks his tongue.

the night continued on. he asked questions, and you answered them.

he would be, admittedly, very difficult. maybe even down-right rude but you seem to assimilate to his attitude soon enough.

every jab and attack he would aim at you. you would receive with grace and an amused ghost smile.

eventually james wanted some alone time and sirius was just glad for a reason to finally leave.

“you know you could have been a bit nicer or at least decent to y/n.” remus hissed once james and casper went away.

“oh trust me, that was me being nice.” he scoffs.

“asking insensitive questions is not nice, last i checked.” peter said.

shaking his head, “i could have said it was fucking creepy that james is fucking dating a ghost. or maybe tell james he needs to make an appointment with a mind healer soon —that his impulsivity with the concept of “falling in love” is all twisted and, let’s face it, short-lived— pun-intended. i could write to fleamont that his son is fracking with a soul trapped in hogwarts! but i didn’t. trust me that was being nice.” he all but shouted, panting as his face blotched red.

“finally dropping your supporting your best mate agenda then, are you?”

sirius turns to remus, huffing and beyond betrayed, “have you not been listening?!”

remus clicks his tongue, “i understand, but it’s just as you said. all of this is short-lived that will eventually die out. so why bother stressing about it? y/n is a pretty cool spirit if you get to know them.”

“it’s a spirit from the 1900, what else is there to know?”

“you are a real piece of work.” remus giving him a hard glare, pulling at his fringe hard.

peter all quiet and mousy said, “i don’t even know why you’re so worked up about all this.”

sirius groans, “the reason why i’m so worked up about all this is, because it is james, we all know how he is. this is going to be another repeat of him falling for somebody, getting his hopes up and fall face down on the ground. and i’ve seen him fall way too many times to let it happen again. it’s a fucking ghost. there is no future with them. james doesn’t see reason, so it’s up to us to help him.”

remus blinked, and then sagged.

“i get it, okay? i get where you’re coming from. but i think out of everyone here, james is the one that understands this the most. just trust him on this. he’s not daft, he knows what he’s doing.”

“but what if he gets hurt again?”

“then we’ll be there for him.”

you can still somewhat hear them argue in the empty halls. you were sure james can too, if his frown was anything to go by.

“sirius is… lovely.” you hummed.

james groans, pulling you to to sit with him on one of the benches. “i’m so sorry about that, he’s just—“

you raise hand to stop his blabber, “i completely understand, he’s protective of you. i feel the same way.” you whispered.

james looks at you abashed and pink, before he looks away. still, rubbing his thumb to your knuckles even as it slowly becomes faint and pale, once again.

“he’ll warm up to you soon,” he nodded.

you smiled, “should i be worried if he doesn’t?”

he turns to you again, looking at you completely besotted, “you shouldn’t, he’ll like you.”

“you sound sure.”

“because i know him, and i know you. you are, after all, the most charming ghost in the castle.” he grins.

“what a title,” you softly sighed.

“just give him time,”

suddenly you’ve been reminded why you wanted to meet with him. you felt the phantom rhythm of your dead heart thrum through your veins. nervous after so many decades, funny.

“i’ve been reading, lately.”

“oh? about what?” he grins at you, cheeks a healthy glow of life and eyes bright like the light in the morning.

you almost falter, but thank merlin you don’t.

you were sure you wouldn’t be able to tell him if you postponed any more.

“about… leaving.”

“leaving?” he straightened. “what do you mean?”

you flowed to the other side of the room, higher than you would usually go, whenever you were with him. wanting to keep the illusion of normalcy of walking with him. like you were still alive. like a normal student with their boyfriend.

“i’ve been researching about this for a while, even before you came here—hogwarts, i mean, and i think i’ve found some sort of break through. this is what i wanted to talk to you about before— before meeting sirius and all that.”

“what like leaving the castle grounds? or—“ he gulps, looking absolutely terrified. “or leaving?”

you know he was smart enough to answer his own questions. but you also considered he would be in denial, unabashedly hopeful, so you clarified. “about passing on. leaving, for good. i’ve already talked to some other spirits in the castle, who wants to go too and some have already agreed.”

“but don’t you—“ james licked his lips, shifting one foot to the other, “don’t you want to stay with me?”

your chest is hollow, nay, non-existent. but the way he looks at you, his voice, and his warm hand reaching out to you, made you think your chest might be aching with pain.

for all your years in purgatory, haunting and never moving on. all these years of weaving through the halls, seeing different faces every year, it all seemed so short.

and the stretch of your time comprising of moments of when james potter was seeking you out. talking to you. making a companion out of you. and being with you. making you feel alive again.

he was young, bright, and callous, and rough. but he is also sweet, soft, and kind.

you knew from the start, this would never last.

you knew, like everyone else, that he’ll eventually leave too.

there was no life with you. that ended decades ago.

but he still has time.

“james,” you softly called out, floating over to him. thinking long and hard to be corporeal. even if it’s just your hands, so you could touch him.

“don’t.“ he looks down, biting down on his lips, refusing to look at you now. but he did nothing to move away from your hold, he never did, instead lifting his own to touch yours, soft yet firm. “don’t tell me some bull about living my life.”

you sigh, lifting his head to see his ever beautiful eyes, “but you have to.”

he softly shook his head in your hands, his grip tightening afraid to let go. “and i want to spend every moment i can with you,”

“and then what?” you ask.

he stops, his gaze moving all around your face, as if memorizing it to the fullest extent.

“i’m to stay now, and then you leave, and then i stay here? forever?”

he shook his head, pouting like kid, and you always endeared.

“i could get a job here and live here all year long, you can stay in my quarters where we can talk and be toge—“

you laugh letting him go, your hands turning translucent like before, like always. “there is no life with me, james. we’ve talked about this.” you look at him. you see his lip harshly bit down, gnawing, as he pulled to release the blood.

“you know this.“

james turns away from you. scratching his neck, his eyebrows furrowed. like the first time you saw him in the halls. after another failed attempt at wooing birds.

“i know.” he conceded. “i’ve been reading too. i’ve checked out books on how you can pass on. i think i’ve checked out every damn book about ghosts in the library.” he laughs bitterly.

you didn’t know this. he didn’t tell you. somehow that made the pain in your chest clench more. you always thought he would be against you leaving. something on your face must’ve shown this because he clarifies, before looking down again.

“i thought that if— i was the one to find the solution, find the way for you to move on, it wouldn’t feel— it wouldn’t hurt. i thought if it was on my own terms, i would be able to accept it easily. but i’m wrong, of course. it wouldn’t be that simple. especially not with you. with us.”

“you were looking for a way for me to pass on?” you ask gently, stopping low to catch his gaze.

he looked as earnest like the day you met him, nodding as he said, “because i know how miserable you felt. i know you—you don’t have enough reason to stay here any longer than you have. i know us, being together, isn’t reason enough for you to be stuck here for all eternity. i know this, but i was still hoping—”

“oh james,” you sighed.

“some irrational part of my brain wants you stay. i even thought of being with you here too. be with you after—“

“james potter.” you sharply cut in, gaze hardening in anger. but his gaze of despair made you soft and sigh again.

“i will not let you.”

you think of all the ghost trapped in the castle. you see them through the years, losing all sense of themselves more and more. becoming irate and miserable. seeing the same grounds, the same routines, the same days, mashing together in an endless cycle. never moving forward.

and then you see his eyes so full of love, and life, and bravery, and sweetness and roughness. even just thinking he might succumb to the cycle—

“i will not let you.” you repeated.

james reached out again, “i love you,”

you smiled at him, the faux fuzziness spreading down to your phantom toes. “you’ll find someone else to love james. someone who can spend more years of life with you, with so much love to give, i have no doubt about it.”

you think back to the boy crying with a broken rose in the halls, another heartache. the bright eyed look you see him give the person he’s chosen to love that day. another love. always so earnest, always with so much love that he has to give it to someone else.

you brush over his soft cheeks, committed to feeling him for the last time.

“do you—“ he breathed, leaning into your touch and bashfully looking down, “do you think i could see you on the other side?”

you gave a loop-sided smile, seriously how utterly charming, you thought. “i would like to think so. i can even greet you myself once you arrive if you’d like.”

he looks up at you, giving you a pretty smile, “yeah, okay.”

you didn’t leave immediately. you waited for another week.

james drew the runes for you, with sirius eagerly helping. you spent your last days, exploring the hidden parts of the castle with james, showing him all the secret passages you’ve come across. you spent your last day with james talking. taking in a full-body corporeal form and hugging him for the first time. and kissing him.

you left quietly, in the night when he was asleep.

he looked for you in the halls, the next morning, hoping you’d change your mind.

when you didn’t show after an hour, he left—blinking the embarrassing tears collecting in his eyes.

eventually though, james will move on. he doesn’t quite understand true love all that well yet. he’ll still mistake other feelings for love. maybe fall quickly. maybe love more than one person at the same time. eventually, he’ll fall in love, for real this time, find someone else to give his seemingly endless amount of love to and it’ll be returned ten-fold.

or at least it’s what sirius says to remus and peter. after remus reprimanded him for being too happy that you were gone.

extra:

later, when james opens the door on that halloween night. the living room glowing bright with green and the echoes of his son’s cries and his wife’s fast stomps upstairs. he would close his eyes in a swift end. thinking how peaceful it is, how quick— his face graced with a ghost of a smile, he would think of you, and hope you’re waiting on the other side.

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sundeathh · 8 months

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Thanks to the Elevator

Part 5

Fanfiction | Masterlist

Pairing: Aizawa × Fem!Reader

Fandom: BNHA | MHA | Word count: 3,2k

Categories: Workplace romance, enemies to lovers, tsundere, angst & fluffy.

CW: None worth mentioning. This chapter is SFW.

The next morning, you were awake before the alarm clock went off, your eyes fluttering open to gaze lazily around your bedroom.

You smiled at the sight that greeted your eyes: Shouta sleeping peacefully next to you, his head resting inches away from your shoulder, one of his legs draped across yours.

Carefully, you shifted your way out of bed, making sure not to wake him up in the process. You grabbed some clean clothes from your closet and headed toward the bathroom to start the day.

After a quick shower, you cleaned up the mess from the night before. A few moments later, you walked over to the bed, gently shaking the man awake. "Hey," you whispered as he opened his eyes. "Time to get up."

A sleepy rub to his eyes accompanied his sigh as he finally met your gaze. "Good morning. For how long did I sleep?" He muttered.

"Morning." You greeted, glancing at the clock to formulate an answer. "I think it should be about five hours."

He sat up slowly, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head. "Five hours? That's a record." He observed, rubbing his eyes again.

"I'll go make breakfast, okay? Make yourself presentable. You can use the shower if you want, I left a clean towel hanging by the door. We still have time to get to work on time." You assured him, pointing to the bathroom door.

"Mmkay, thank you." He agreed, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and standing up as you turned on your heels and headed toward the kitchen.

The soothing symphony of pouring water harmonized with the gentle click of scrambled eggs on the pan as you cooked, the constant buzzing of the coffee machine catching your attention as well.

A subtle, affectionate smile curled at the edges of your lips. It wasn't every day that you had to cook for someone besides yourself.

The rhythm of footsteps interrupted your contemplation about how you should start the conversation. Turning your head to glance at the source of the sound, you observed Shouta timidly taking a seat at the dining table.

"Hey. How's my guest doing?" You asked, noticing he wore yesterday's clothes, the first buttons of his shirt undone. He looked tired, yet adorable.

"I'm good. Sleepy." He said, looking at you from under his bangs. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Didn't you get enough sleep?" You asked, pouring two cups of coffee before bringing it to the table, repeating the path to bring the plates of eggs and toast.

"I never do. But I slept better than usual." He confessed, sipping at the hot liquid. "Thanks for the breakfast."

"No problem." You smiled, having a seat next to his. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"I have a class to teach and some paperwork to do... But, as soon as we finish that, I'll probably just sit in my office after class and read something." He shrugged.

A tranquil silence settled, punctuated only by the quiet clinks of utensils and the distant hum of morning traffic outside, allowing the last delightful bites of breakfast to be savored. Curious, your cat came out of its hiding and walked towards you, meowing to get your attention.

"Oh! Here you are!" You smiled as you picked it up, scratching behind its ear and setting the fluffy animal down on your lap. The cat purred.

Shouta glanced at you as you focused on the cat in front of you, absentmindedly petting its fur. You met his gaze, and Aizawa averted your eyes.

You gave the cat a few more pats, enjoying the feeling of its soft fur between your fingers.

After enough spoiling, you put the cat back down, turning your attention back to Shouta, who was staring at you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

"What is it?" You asked softly, smiling warmly at him.

His blush intensified. "I just thought of something." He admitted, his eyes shifting down to look at his dish.

You raised your eyebrows amusedly as he looked back up at you. "What is it? Tell me, I'm curious now." You urged.

"Well... I've always liked cats." He said slowly. You could hear the uncertainty in his voice, and that made you chuckle.

"Well, cats are adorable." You reassured him as you stood up, picking up your cat and holding it carefully close to him. "See?"

Shouta stared at your cat for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. Then, he reached out and stroked its chin gently with his index finger.

The cat leaned into the touch, rubbing its head against his hand. Suddenly, you couldn't contain your laughter.

The man lifted his head, blinking in confusion. As he met your gaze, he joined in, huffing, the sound mixing with a chuckle.

"You're such a dork." You smiled, calming your laughter.

"Yeah..." he mumbled, "I guess so." He added, smiling down at the cat.

For a moment you only stared at each other before you spoke up again. "We should get going." You stated, glancing at the clock on the kitchen's wall. "We still have to go to our jobs." You explained.

"Sure." Shouta nodded, standing up from the table. He helped you clean up the dishes, leaving before you so he'd get the chance to stop by his house and change.

When you arrived at work, you walked over to your office, dropping your bag on the desk before plopping down in your chair.

You groaned as you pushed the thick stack of papers in front of you to the side, deciding to deal with them later.

Instead, you leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes. The muffled sounds of chatting in the hallway created a soothing background to your mind.

A few minutes later, however, your phone vibrated on your desk, startling you from your dazed state. You glanced at the screen, noticing a text notification.

'Would you like to meet at the cafe near campus tomorrow afternoon?'

A small, content smile graced your lips as you tapped out your reply.

'Sure. See you then.' After sending your reply, you placed your phone back on your desk, turning your attention towards the stack of papers.

It didn't feel like it took you long to fill out the pile. But when you were done, it was past lunchtime. You pushed your chair back and stood up, stretching your arms and popping your back before walking out of your office.

Just as you left the room, you ran into Mic, who was walking toward the teachers' room. "Oh! Hey there, Hiz! What's up?"

"Hello, buddy! Just passing by. Where are you off to? I haven't chatted with you in a while." He commented with his excited tone of voice, placing his hands on his hips.

"Oh, you know, work stuff. Nothing special, just paperwork." You brushed it off.

Hizashi nodded. "Alright, then. See ya later, sweetie! I'm in a hurry now." He excused himself, and you smiled at him reassuringly. He waved at you as he walked away, and you resumed your way to the break room.

When you stepped in, you immediately spotted Shouta, who was sitting in a chair, his laptop open on the table in front of him. He seemed to be immersed in whatever he was working on.

You approached the table, your thoughts dancing with a mix of curiosity and the remnants of morning warmth as you took a seat across from him. He glanced up at you. "Hey," he greeted, offering a nod in your direction.

"Hi." You replied, returning his nod with a smile before glancing down at his laptop. "Working on something interesting?"

He shook his head with a hint of a smirk. “Just plotting a lesson. And you, any adventures in paperwork?”

"Just finished it." You answered, and footsteps approaching the table echoed low in the room as the both of you turned to see Nemuri, who was embodying her provocative mood all over her demeanor.

She glanced between you and Shouta, her curiosity turning into a questioning eyebrow. "Hello, guys. Glad to see you getting along. How's it going?" She asked.

"Yeah. Everything's fine." Shouta told her with a quiet tone. He gave you a brief look, which you returned with one of your own.

"That's good to hear." Midnight smiled. "By the way, I was wondering where you disappeared to last night, but since I saw you here earlier, I assumed you had gotten home okay." She said, looking between the two of you.

You exchanged a glance with Shouta, silently agreeing to evade direct eye contact with her probing gaze. You knew that she would try to interrogate you if given the chance.

Then, she let out a sigh and shook her head, noticing your avoidance. "Fine, I'm not gonna pry anymore." She mumbled. "But know that if I find out something weird is going on between you two-"

"-then you can tell the others." You cut her off.

"Okay, alright." Nemuri rolled her eyes. "You know me too well. Just call me when you have time off. We need to catch up." She said, looking at you.

"Of course. I will." You nodded, gracing her with a smile.

Midnight's presence loomed for a moment longer before she seemed to relent. "Well, just remember, I'm always here if you need advice or someone to spill your secrets to," she said with a playful wink before sauntering away.

As she left, you let out a subtle sigh of relief, exchanging a glance with Shouta, both of you sharing a silent moment of gratitude for her understanding.

Once she was out of earshot, you turned back to Shouta, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. "See? Easy peasy. We just need to be careful."

He nodded in agreement, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Anyway, we probably shouldn't act so close in our workplace. We weren't like this, people will notice."

You nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. "Well, if it helps..." You shrugged nonchalantly. "If anyone asks, we'll just deny it."

Shouta chuckled lightly. "That doesn't exactly help the situation."

"They won't ask us anything like that." You argued. "Besides, we're not doing anything wrong."

He narrowed his eyes, a hint of suspicion plastered on them. "Are you considering what I said?" He asked.

You smirked. "Of course I am."

He sighed once more. “Okay. But please, let’s make sure not to draw any unnecessary attention."

"I promise." You swore. "But seriously, if anyone asks, we can just say that we understood each other when we got stuck in the elevator, which is still true." You reminded him.

He smiled. "True." He agreed, before standing up from his seat. "Now, I better get going. There's some important stuff I still have to check up on before the weekend arrives." He informed you.

"Okay." You smiled. "See you soon." You waved him goodbye, watching as he turned and headed toward the door.

- - -

As the seasons changed, so did the dynamic between Shouta and you. The once-muted glances that spoke volumes evolved into shared looks, brimming with a silent understanding that only the two of you comprehended. The air around you buzzed with unspoken words, and the interactions, once bound by professional constraints, now flowed with a natural ease.

One chilly evening, after facing down a particularly formidable villain, Aizawa found himself seeking refuge in a cozy little café with you. The warmth of the place mirrored the growing comfort in your friendship. The clinking of mugs and the gentle hum of conversation created a backdrop for your shared connection.

Seated across from each other, you couldn't help but reflect on the journey that brought you here. Shouta, usually stoic and reserved, would genuinely smile at your stories. The way your eyes sparkled with passion as you described the success of a challenging patient or the mischievous grin that accompanied tales of your exploits in life made him appreciate the person beyond the coworker. He realized that amidst the chaos of his profession, you slowly had become a source of solace.

Similarly, you discovered a side of Shouta that few were privileged to see. The subtle twinkle in his eyes when recalling a successful mission or the rare, genuine chuckle that escaped him during a particularly amusing story revealed a warmth beneath the stern exterior. Your conversations flowed effortlessly, free from the formalities that once constrained them.

The café, with its warm ambiance and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, became a witness to the blossoming connection between two unlikely friends.

This unexpected turn of events with Shouta brought a pleasant surprise into your life. The initial awkwardness gave way to a genuine connection, and despite his demanding schedule, the moments you managed to meet were always enjoyable.

As your relationship deepened, Shouta started spending nights at your place, preparing for his early departure to work with you. While you occasionally visited his home, the convenience of your proximity to the U.A. made your place the go-to.

Besides, Shouta's unexpected affection for your cat brought a delightful and endearing element to your shared experiences. His interactions with the feline added a touch of warmth and charm to your time together, showcasing a side of him that others rarely got to see.

During breaks from work, you both made it a ritual to visit the quaint cafe near campus. These moments became a cherished escape from the demands of your daily routines, offering a space for shared interests and the simple pleasure of each other's company.

Whether it was discussing mutual hobbies, sharing stories, or simply enjoying a quiet cup of coffee, these breaks became a haven of relaxation amid your busy lives.

At work, quiet collaboration became a norm during breaks, and observant colleagues noticed the absence of once-typical disagreements.

The unspoken understanding between you and Shouta added a new layer to your professional relationship, subtly altering the dynamics in the eyes of those closest to you.

In one of those breaks at the cafe, you found yourself sitting with Shouta during lunch hour, enjoying the calm atmosphere. The fragrant aroma of coffee wafted through the air as you exchanged stories and light conversation.

As you immerse yourselves in the moment, Hizashi, with his vibrant personality, strolled into the cafe. Spotting the two of you, he couldn't resist joining your table, his friendly grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Well, well! Look at this cozy little gathering. Mind if I join?" Hizashi chimed in, pulling a chair from a nearby table.

Smiling, you motioned for him to sit. "Of course not, Hizashi. Have a seat."

Hizashi sat down, immediately diving into the conversation. "So, what's the hot topic today, lovebirds?" He teased, winking playfully.

Shouta remained neutral, though he felt like rolling his eyes. "Just catching up. Nothing exciting."

Hizashi raised an eyebrow, his playful expression turning more observant. "You guys seem to be getting along pretty well lately. It's like there's a new vibe in the air when you're around each other."

Shouta glanced at you, a subtle nod confirming Hizashi's observation. Hizashi leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ah, I see. The winds of change are blowing, huh? Are we witnessing the birth of something more than friendship?" Hizashi teased.

Shouta sighed, giving Hizashi a deadpan look. "It's not that dramatic, Hizashi. We're just... getting to know each other better."

Hizashi leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Getting to know each other better? That's how it starts! Next thing you know, love is in the air, and boom! Cupid's got you both in his sights."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Hizashi's theatrics, appreciating the lightheartedness he effortlessly brought into the conversation. Despite your mutual efforts to avoid attention, Hizashi's teasing had grown significantly, and dismissing it wasn't working anymore.

Shouta, on the other hand, sat there with an expression that seemed to be a mix of mild amusement and contemplation, as if he was silently considering the most effective ways to escape the whims of his overly enthusiastic friend.

Yamada, true to his nature, continued the banter, playfully pushing Shouta's buttons about the newfound friendship between you two.

His animated gestures and exaggerated expressions made the shop feel like a stage for his spontaneous performance. Despite the teasing, there was an underlying sincerity in Hizashi's eyes, and it was evident that he was genuinely happy.

"Come on, Shouta! You can't fool me with that 'nothing major' nonsense. I've seen the way you look at her. It's like someone cast a love spell on you!" Hizashi exclaimed, his arms flailing dramatically for emphasis.

Shouta merely grunted in response, his usual stoicism momentarily giving way to a small, almost imperceptible smile. He shot back, "Love spell? You've been spending too much time with Midnight."

Hizashi gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Shouta, my dear friend, love is a beautiful and magical thing. You should embrace it!"

A breath of laughter escaped your lips at the playful banter, thoroughly entertained by the friendly dynamic between the two teachers. Despite Shouta's reserved nature and Hizashi's flamboyant personality, the two complemented each other, creating a balance that could turn any place into an unexpectedly lively one.

The banter finally subsided, and Hizashi gave Shouta a final, encouraging pat on the back. "Alright, alright. I'll spare you from my love advice for now, but remember, I'm just a shout away if you need some guidance in matters of the heart!"

Shouta rolled his eyes but offered a small, appreciative nod. The air seemed to carry a hint of unspoken support, lingering like an echo in an empty room.

After the cafe rendezvous, the three of you walked back towards U.A., engaged in a light conversation about your day. However, Hizashi, being the perceptive friend that he was, noticed a certain tension in Aizawa's demeanor.

Later that day, Hizashi found a moment when he and Shouta were alone in the teachers' room. He grinned, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

"Alright, Shouta, spill it. What's going on between you and [Y/n]?" Hizashi asked with a playful yet probing tone.

Shouta, who was engrossed in some paperwork, glanced up at Hizashi. "What are you talking about, Hizashi? Nothing is going on."

Hizashi raised an eyebrow, leaning against Shouta's desk. "Please, I've known you for ages. There's something different. Spill the beans, my friend."

Shouta sighed, realizing that Hizashi wasn't going to drop the subject easily. "It's just... we've been spending more time together, that's all. Nothing major."

Hizashi nudged him with his elbow, a knowing smile on his face. "Come on, Shouta. You're not fooling anyone. There's a spark there. I can practically see it."

Shouta scratched his head, a hint of discomfort in his expression. "It's not that simple. We're just friends, getting to know each other better. That's it."

Hizashi sighed dramatically, feigning disappointment. "Shouta, my man, you've got to learn to embrace these things. Life's too short to keep everything bottled up. If you like spending time with [Y/n], just go with it. Who knows where it might lead?"

Shouta grunted in response, clearly not entirely convinced. Hizashi, however, was determined to be the voice of reason.

"Look, Shouta, I've seen you buried in work and responsibilities for as long as I can remember. You deserve a bit of happiness too. If [Y/n] is bringing that into your life, don't push it away. Talk to her. Figure it out. It's about time you let yourself enjoy something good," Hizashi advised with a sincere undertone beneath his usual exuberance.

The black-haired man sighed again, nodding in reluctant acknowledgment. The blonde patted him on the back, offering a supportive grin. "Just think about it, alright? And remember, I'm here to offer advice whenever you need it," Hizashi teased, earning another appreciative nod from Shouta.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! Check the fixed post for requests.

#bnha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x you #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa fluff #mha aizawa #aizawa x reader #mr aizawa #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero fic #boku no hero x reader

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jellieland · 2 years

Text

"Joe Hills?"

"Recording as I always do from Nashville, Tennessee! Who's askin'?" Joe turns around, and blinks.

Looking very incongruous in the vast and empty seabed he is in the process of digging out below his pinball machine, is a man.

He has a sword, sheathed, at his hip. Tied to the pommel is something that looks a bit like those charms - the ones you used to be able to put on phones, y'know? Hanging from it is a shard of green crystal, a wooden carving of a sunflower, and a red feather. It's a nice little charm, if a fairly random collection of objects.

The scar across his face is very obvious, although Joe is never going to be the kind of jerk who would make that the first thing he comments on.

He's also holding a poker chip, which he keeps tossing and catching. That's some fairly impressive dexterity!

"I'm here to give you a warning." Says the man.

Joe squints at him. "You're not one of those dreamsimps, are you? I keep hearing about that, whatever it is."

"Excuse me?" His expression suddenly looks pretty intense, although Joe can't really work out why. Unless...

"Or wait, no, I saw this! Oh, I wasn't sure, you can probably clear this up- are you a cat, or a municipality?"

"Fucking excuse me?"

"Your name?"

The man - Quake city, wasn't it? - narrows his eyes. "Quackity."

"Huh! That is not how I thought that was pronounced! Well, it's good to meet you! Convenient, in fact. I was just thinking about how I should know my enemy, since I've been putting so much effort into knowing myself lately!"

Quackity glares at him, hand twitching towards the scar on his face for a moment. "Sun Tzu. Really." He tosses and catches the poker chip again.

"Yeah, I feel like he has a lot of wisdom worth considering! Why, do you disagree?"

Quackity turns away slightly, though not enough that Joe would be out of his field of vision. "You've done your research, huh?"

"I mean. I tried! It was a bit confusing - there's so many different kinds of dream, you know? Like- have you heard of the Butterfly Dream?"

Quackity tosses the poker chip one last time, catches it, and shoves his hand in his pocket. "Why should I care?" He practically snarls. "Why the fuck would that be relevant?"

"Oh, uh. I think it's relevant to basically everyone, all the time, since-"

"I am here," Says the man with the poker chip, "To tell you that you are going to loose. I was planning on letting you try to bargain, but I'm already done with your stupid mind games. I am not like any of those idiots you've faced before. You're gonna have to try harder than that if you want to manipulate me."

Joe blinks at him. "Ok??"

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Go on. Tell me about the Butterfly Dream".

"...sure! It's a story by Zhuang Zhou - a different ancient Chinese philosopher, if you're not a fan of the last one."

"Sounds great."

"It is! The basic premise is that he dreamed he was a butterfly. And in that dream, he wholeheartedly believed that he was a butterfly - that was his whole life, with everything that entailed. And then he woke up, and- well, of course he was a human, with a human's life and ideas and hopes and dreams."

Joe makes a gesture that attempts to capture all the enormity of the human experience with the green stained glass pane he's holding.

"But how could he really know which was true? Was he a human dreaming of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being a human?"

Quackity gives him a look that he can't quite read. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And believe me, I've heard some pretty stupid things."

Joe shrugs. "I thought it was interesting. And I've decided to believe it means dreams can be basically as good as true until you're given reason to think otherwise! Like that time in the Falsewell Motel in-"

"I don't care what you've decided to believe. I'm not entertaining your weird thought experiment about how maybe everything I've built is just a dream. I've told you to be ready, and if you're not then that's on you." He turns, ready to go.

"You know I haven't lost so far either, right?"

And he stops. Turns back. "Oh, but you will. You will. And when you do, you will remember this moment. And you'll know who beat you."

"I mean. If I do, I won't really care. Don't get me wrong, I would love to win! I've put a lot of work in, I even bought some extra eyes. But it's just a competition." He shrugs. "I think it might be kind of nice to be a butterfly, anyway. Lot less to worry about."

Quackity stares at him for a long moment.

"You're not what I expected." He says.

"Glad to see that the "cryptic and unknowable" part of my campaign is going well!"

"Don't think I'm done with you. I will win. Whatever it takes."

"You seem like a worthy opponent! Good luck, because you should know - even death herself could never stop me! At least not for very long!" He grins. "And oh boy did she try!"

Quackity laughs. "Luck? Luck works for me. Haven't you heard?" He tosses Joe the poker chip. Joe fumbles and drops it. "The house always wins!"

And with that, he's gone.

Joe picks up the poker chip. It's an interesting little thing, but poker isn't the card game he's most concerned with at the moment.

He's lost a lot of the matches he's played in the TCG to poor draws, recently. That hasn't stopped him enjoying it, though!

He's never really needed luck to be on his side. Which is good, because it rarely is.

He tends to get by anyway.

#mcytblr sexymen poll #joe hills #quackity #my writing #joehillssweep

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emotionalcadaver · 2 years

Text

Part 4: Barren

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy receives some news.

Word Count: 1,865

Notes: Some light angst for y’all. Takes place before the events of season 1. Warnings for depictions of pregnancy scares, infertility, and references to menstruation, past sexual assault, sexual content, drug use, and abortion.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

It was a Thursday when she realized that her blood was over two weeks late.

Not that she’d ever been particularly regular to begin with. Perhaps that was why it had been so easy for her to lose track. That and the constant list of tasks that she kept in her head, spinning like a record player. From one thing onto the next. Her days were full from dawn to well past dark most of the time. Taking notes for Tommy at meetings, gathering intel on the latest mark he’d given her, helping out around the betting shop or at Charlie’s yard.

She wouldn’t have even thought much of it, had it not been for the uncharacteristic, extreme fatigue that hung heavy over her for the past week, or the consistent, throbbing headache and dizziness in her skull.

Sitting there at her desk, staring off into space, she bit her lip. Oh, no. No. No.

She and Tommy had never even really talked about children. But she knew from watching him interact with them that he loved them. It was almost a certainty that he wanted them. The idea had, on occasion, danced across her mind, carrying with it a sharp stab of anxiety.

Lucy liked children. Didn’t even mind the idea of raising one or two. But the idea of carrying one inside her, pushing it out when it was the size of a watermelon, was not something she’d ever considered to be a particular personal goal. The entire process really all seemed quite horrifying to her.

Prior to Tommy, she’d never thought she would even feel safe enough to be with a man after what happened with Matthew. Maybe that was why the thought of someday having children had always seemed so abstract and out of reach to her.

Fingers pressed to her lips, she fought hard to keep her breathing steady. To stave off the panic attack spreading through her chest. It was probably nothing. It was very possible she was just late due to stress.

Or it could be the product of her spending every night for the past month with Tommy’s cock buried inside her.

Lucy groaned, letting her head fall to settle on her hands on her desk. Oh, she was so fucking fucked.

∗ ∗ ∗

She watched Polly like a hawk throughout the entire meeting, looking for any signs that the Shelby matriarch sensed something in her. Tommy had once told her that Polly was a more accurate pregnancy test than going to the doctor. That she’d sensed it each time, without fail, when his mother had been pregnant with his younger siblings. Sometimes even before she’d started to suspect it herself.

Nothing. Not even an eye twitch. It wasn’t rare for Polly to ignore her unless she had no other choice. Lucy supposed that she should be relieved. But instead the lack of a concrete answer just left her feeling jittery.

“You alright?” Tommy asked as they walked side by side down the street after the meeting had concluded.

“Hm? Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been quiet,” he frowned, eyes examining her face carefully. “And you look…paler than usual. Are you sick?”

“No. No. I don’t…think so. I’ve just been getting these headaches the past couple of days,” she rubbed at a temple. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “Actually I was thinking of going to the doctor and getting a prescription for some pain killers. If it hasn’t let up by tomorrow.”

“I can go to the nine o’clock meeting by myself. You can go then and meet me after.”

“You’re sure?”

He shrugged.

“Okay,” she could feel his eyes still boring into the side of her head. He probably knew that she wasn’t telling him something. He was too perceptive not to. But he didn’t push it. Lucy wasn’t sure if she was grateful or not for that.

She should have told him the truth. But she wasn’t sure how he would react. She didn’t think he would be angry, or kick her out, or run away or anything like that, but…

There just wasn’t any point in getting him all mentally tied up in this either until she knew for sure, anyway. Tommy had enough to think about already; he didn’t need to be worrying about a baby that may or may not even exist.

∗ ∗ ∗

Her legs swung back and forth in the air as she sat against the edge of the examination table. The doctor’s lips had pursed as she rattled off her symptoms before he set about examining her, frown only deepening before he swept out of the room with a mumble, leaving her to sit anxiously by herself. When he came back, he handed her a little prescription slip.

“You have an iron deficiency. I’ve written you a prescription for some tablets.”

“Oh,” she looked down at the little slip. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So, I’m not…”

The doctor’s brow furrowed. “Of course not,” his assuredness in his answer caught her off guard. At the sight of her frown, he sat down very slowly in the chair beside her. “You don’t know.”

“Know what?”

And then he rambled off some very complicated medical jargon, only half of which made sense to her. But the more he talked, the more the meaning, the outcome of everything he was telling her, started to make sense.

“I can’t have children.”

He looked at her with wide, sympathetic eyes. “No, you can’t. I’m sorry…I thought you already knew.”

“No,” she whispered, sitting there with her eyes staring at the wall, hands braced against the edge of the table she was still sitting on. “There’s really no chance? At all?”

The solemn look on his face was enough of an answer, even before he shook his head.

You’re empty inside. Polly had said to her shortly after she first joined up with them. Turns out she’d been right in more ways than one.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, Lucy nodded, reaching to grab her coat, riffling through the pockets until she pulled out a stack of notes, holding them out to the doctor.

“You won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Of course,” he said, taking the notes and tucking them away.

“If Mr. Shelby asks, I just came in for a headache and you gave me the prescription for the tablets, that’s all.”

The doctor hesitated.

“You won’t be lying.”

“If Mr. Shelby asks, and then finds out I omitted information…”

“I’ll make sure you aren’t punished. You have my word.”

The doctor nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

Turning the prescription paper over in her hand, she held it up. “This will help with the headaches, yes?”

“They should.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, moving to the door. Hand gripping the doorknob, he turned. “There are other options, you know.”

“That’ll be all, thank you,” she didn’t look at him as she jumped off the table. The door creaked as it opened, then closed.

∗ ∗ ∗

“What did the doctor say?” Tommy asked, closing the door to his office as soon as they were both inside.

“I have an iron deficiency. He wrote me a prescription for some tablets,” she held up the paper for him to see.

“That’s what was causing the headaches?”

“I guess,” she shrugged. Tommy’s hand reached out to catch at her wrist, thumb stroking the back of her hand.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Eyes snapping up at him, she felt her face soften at the sight of concerned blue eyes. He really had been worried about her. Sweet man, much as he might try to hide it. When she reached up, to brush his dark fringe from his forehead, his eyes fluttered, and he smiled softly at her.

She almost blurted out the truth right there, but bit her tongue. Perhaps later, when they weren’t in the middle of work.

And she still needed some time to herself, to process all of it.

The shock was starting to wear off, and, to replace it, had come a tremble of relief. And with the relief, confusion. Because she was pretty sure that wasn’t how she was supposed to feel. There should be grief, or sorrow, at what she’d lost. But instead she was over the moon. Never would she have to go through the months of pain and discomfort she remembered witnessing her mother experience each time she bore one of Lucy’s brothers. She would not have to give up her job, because she was unable to physically fight or move nimbly throughout the streets of Small Heath thanks to a swollen stomach. There would be no locking her away in a house, to cook and clean and sew and change diapers, waiting anxiously each day for her man to come home to her.

And she supposed, that if she ever did want a child of her own, she could go down to the orphanage. She was beginning to realize that had been the path she’d always seen herself on anyway.

But there was one spark of fear. Because she did not know how Tommy would react to the news of her barrenness. And the idea of him leaving her over it was nearly enough to make her throat close up in grief.

∗ ∗ ∗

She didn’t actually tell him anything until about a week later, when her blood had finally come and she was laying sprawled out in bed with his chest against her back, whining at the cramping in her stomach and wondering how in the hell she could ever have possibly missed this. In her head, she’d rehearsed what she was going to say over and over, but in the end it didn’t come out nearly as gracefully as she’d hoped.

“I thought I was pregnant.”

Poor Tommy nearly dropped the opium pipe he was busy cleaning with a cloth, going rigid against her, lips parting.

“That’s the real reason I went to the doctor’s.”

He very slowly reached around her to set the pipe down on the bedside table, then pressed on her shoulder until she rolled over to face him.

“I figured something else was going on,” he murmured quietly, touching her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lucy shrugged, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to…I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

Tommy stroked her lips with his thumb. “We would have been okay,” he said softly. “I would have helped you. You know that, right?”

“Really? What if I’d wanted to get rid of it?” she was only half teasing. Based on the seriousness in his eyes, she suspected that he knew that.

“That would be up to you,” he kissed her softly. “Either way, I’d hold your hand in the delivery room or in the clinic. I want you to know that.”

Lucy nodded, lashes fluttering, and he kissed her again.

“Next time, you tell me, okay?”

She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, so he would not see the way that her smile broke slightly.

“Okay.”

She did not tell him that there never would be a next time.

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oddsandendsandthings · 1 year

Text

Tattered Puppets AU

The Welcome Home puppets were ripped to shreds and left to rot in the recording studio! And my OC Adrian who made his career in fixing up toys to resell buys the studio to expand his business and finds them. Wally sees the opportunity to save his friends and himself decides to convince the man by any means necessary.

Some horror elements, angst with a happy ending, and Wally/Male OC if you squint

You can read it here or find it on Ao3 here

He’d lost track of how long he’d been here. All this time in the dark had made time lose all meaning.

It was quiet. So so quiet. He couldn’t even hear their crying anymore.

All there was to fill the silence was the ever-swirling ringing of static echoing in his ears.

“Hello?” His voice echoes so quietly that he can barely hear it himself. “Helloooo?”

Tears drip from his cheeks when there is no reply.

“Beautiful dreamers, wake unto me… Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee..” If they’re all still sleeping, then he’ll sing them a lullaby to lure them to a pleasant dream. And when they wake, they can all laugh and play and sing together again.

Until then, he’ll watch over them. Just like he always has.

—-------------------------------

Today was going to be a great day! Adrian grinned as he clutched the last of the paperwork he needed to submit to get the keys to his new studio. Sure the place had been abandoned since the seventies and was supposedly haunted. But who cared about that when it came at a quarter of the price of anywhere else in a hundred miles!

“Are you sure you want to buy this place without even looking at it first?” His leasing agent Rachelle asked when he slid the paperwork across her desk and took a seat.

“I mean I saw the pictures you provided.” He shrugged casually and sat back. “And you were the one to refuse to take me to see it in person.”

“And I still refuse to step back in that place after the last guy I sent to survey the place turned in his camera and quit that day.” She says as she levels him with a wary look. “The last people I leased the building to also returned their keys in the first 24 hours. Shoot! This place hasn’t had a tenant last longer than 3 days before abandoning it again in the past 50 years! I just don’t want to deal with having to fill out more paperwork and save you from making a poor financial decision in the process.”

Adrian shrugs, completely unaffected. “I hear you, but I’m gonna do it anyways. I need a place big enough to house all my sewing supplies and still have room to work. And my tiny little apartment isn’t cutting it anymore! Plus I've been wanting to expand my business into a real location for a long time now.” He laughs and shrugs dramatically. “This place has triple the space I need for way less than the price of anywhere else! Which will mean more money in my pocket for my growing business! Maybe even enough to hire someone else to help out!”

“If you can find anyone as crazy as you.” She mutters under her breath and sighs as she looks through the paperwork. “Well, everything appears to be in order and the deposit you submitted last week did clear. So here are the keys to your new studio, Mr. Summerset.” She says and stands to shake his hands as he takes the keys. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

“Oh come on!” He laughs standing as he takes her hand. “Even if the place is haunted, I’m sure I can handle some wannabe Casper.”

“I hope you’re right,” She sighs as she flops back into her chair and reaches into her cabinet to pull out a flask. “For both our sakes.”

Adrian smiles brightly as he pulls up to his new studio. He was practically vibrating with excitement. He was finally onto the next step of his dream of turning his little hobby of fixing up toys into a real business! Sure the place looked more than a little shabby all boarded up like this. And who knows what the inside looks like through 50 years of neglect? But as long as there’s no angry drug addict living in here, he should be fine!

Just in case he does a quick walk around the building to look for any signs of a break-in. Surprisingly, there are no signs of forced entry which was a great sign of there being no crazy hobos! Hiking back to his car, he pulls out his prybar from the trunk he bought for just this special occasion.

Time to take down those boards and bring in the light! It would probably be another 72 hours for the electric company to turn back on the power for this place. And he did NOT have the extra dough for a generator to last him in the meantime. So he will do all the things he could do without electricity in this place in the meantime! And the first step to that was to onboard these windows. He cracked the crowbar into the gap between rotted plywood and the wall and pulled. With a sickening SHUNK, the board easily pulled away from the window like wet paper and fell to the ground.

“One down!” Adrian huffed as he haughtily swung his crowbar onto his shoulder and walked to the next window. “Nine to go! Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!” He laughs as he repeats the process. “At this rate, I’ll have plenty of time to start on the inside before lunch!”

—---------------------------

Light. There was actual light streaming through the windows.

When was the last time he had seen the sun? He’d forgotten how warm it felt.

His brief moment of happiness was shattered at the realization of what this could mean.

Someone was coming.

—--------------------------------

The lock gave quite a fight from years of disuse. But eventually, the redheaded man was able to finally get it to relent and let him into the building. “Honey I’m home!” He couldn’t help but call into the empty building with a laugh.

The windows were so dusty he couldn’t get a good look inside while he was pulling off the plywood from the windows. But he was happy to see that, although very dusty and dirty, the entrance to the place was pretty usable. The floors and ceiling were intact and all the light fixtures still hung from their proper places. There was even a desk and chair still in here that looked to still be pretty sturdy! Bonus work surface!

He walked up to the desk to get a closer look. It still very much looked to be from the 70s, but it could still be of use for his purposes! There were still papers in it that would need to be cleaned out though. “Guess this place used to be a recording studio for a knock-off Sesame Street.” Adrian hummed as he looked at the desk calendar that listed off a recording schedule and various meetings. There was even a magazine ad for toys for the show and a copy of a kids' book of the characters

“Wonder if the place is haunted by the vengeful spirit of Elmo for straying on his turf!” He laughs and puts the book back on the table.

He walks into the studio proper and is greeted by a sight that sucks the previous levity out of him. It looked like someone had filmed a snuff film for puppets in here. Pieces of the smiling, child-friendly characters were scattered all over the place. On the stage proper was what he guessed was the main character of the show. Wacky? Wally? Something with a W! The roughly 3-foot-tall puppet was pinned to the giant red house by its hand almost like an Elvis puppet Jesus with his chest cut open. All of it was enough to give Hannibal Lecter some ideas.

“I guess the place was broken into after all.” He sighed and shook his head sadly as he carefully picked his way through the carnage. “Just by some sickos with nothing better to do than rip apart dolls instead of loot the place.” He carefully picks the head up of a blue dog puppet to inspect the damage a little closer. “None of you deserved that.”

He froze when something fuzzy brushed past his leg. Oh god, he hopes this place isn’t infested with rats. He looks to the ground and shrieks and he drops the plush head. A pink puppet arm was grabbing his leg. Not just draped on his leg. Actively gripping it as he flailed it around.

“What the fuck!” He shouts as he finally shakes it loose and flings it across the room.

“...-lp” A voice whispers so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it. In Adrian’s defense, he was much more preoccupied with the various other puppet limbs that seem to have also come to life and begun crawling towards him.

“Help.” He hears more clearly as he climbs the stage to get away from the puppets’ grasp. He turns to the sound only to come face to face with the pinned puppet. It’s looking at him now with black goo dripping from its eyes that look like tears. “Please… Help us.”

Adrian curls up tightly into a ball unable to cope with the horrifying sight. He feels his breathing quicken as he hears the limbs of the other puppets slap into the lip of the stage as they pull themselves up to continue their chase after him. He blacks out as soon as he feels another felt arm crawl its way up his back.

—------------------------------------

Wally watches as the redhead in front of him collapses from a panic attack. This human was stranger than the others who had come in the past. He was the first to show any kind of compassion towards his friends’ sorry state.

“Friends… please.” He coughs trying to speak louder than a whisper. “G-give him some space. We don’t want to scare off a new neighbor do we?”

He glanced at the crowbar that had fallen from the man’s grip. Even when he was clearly terrified of them, he hadn’t used it as a weapon against his friends. Maybe this one would actually listen and help them.

Time would tell in the end. If his guess was wrong, he would get rid of him the way he did the others.

—-----------------------------------

Adrian awoke with a loud gasp for air as he sprang bolt upright. Based on the dim lighting in here it was now closer to sundown than noon. He looked around himself and it seemed the puppet limbs had gone back to their original positions. Did he get heat stroke and imagine all that?

“Oh good. You’re awake.” A gravelly voice says, making him freeze and stare up at the puppet still pinned to the house prop. It was looking at him with a stare that made him feel like he was the one pinned in place. “You're not going to scream again, are you?”

“Please,” Adrian begs as he scrambled backward away from the strung-up puppet. “I-I don’t mean any harm! I’m just a starving artist in need of a place to work! You know artists, right??? I’m really just skin and bones so please don't eat me!”

“Ha ha ha ha!” The laugh was so distorted it felt like nails on a chalkboard. It immediately shut the ginger man up from his mad ravings to just stare wide-eyed at the puppet. “Now why would we eat you? You humans come up with the craziest of ideas. What’s your name, friend?”

“I-it’s Adrian.” He stutters out not wanting to aggravate the demonic puppet. They may not want to eat him but that doesn’t mean they don’t want to hurt him. “I’ll do whatever you want! Just please let me go!”

Wally stared at the man in front of him for a long moment. His crowbar was still in his hands but he still didn’t use it in favor of just begging for his life. Maybe he could get this human to do what he wanted after all. He smiled to himself, the first genuine one he’d had in a long time. “Well, how can I deny a friend such a polite request? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Adrian. My name is Wally. And there actually is something you can do for me.”

Adrian nodded his head rapidly in agreement. He just needed this thing to let him go and then he could be free of this place! Sure he just lost a massive security deposit from leasing this place. But at least he’d still be alive!

Adrian gulped and flinched as a grey arm inched its way to him. “A-and how can I do that?”

“My friends and I have just gone to pieces.” Wally laughs humorlessly at him. “In exchange for your freedom, I want you to put us back together again.”

Adrian nervously looks at all the pieces of puppet scattered around the room. He was still terrified. Who wouldn’t be when face to face with real, living puppets? But, he remembered how sad it made him to see them in this state in the first place. And maybe if he fixed them up, they’d keep to their word of not killing him.

“I don’t really have anything on me to do that right now.” He started carefully as he stood back up on shaky legs. “And this place won’t have any power for a few days even if I brought my sewing machine with me.”

“Then take me with you,” Wally says evenly as he stared the human down. One last scare should have the man crumbling to his whims. “Show me you’re worthy of fixing them and once they’re all fixed we’ll let you go and you’ll never hear from us again. Or I could simply…” He reached into that blackness within his soul that terrified him and summoned it to the forefront. The world around them went dark around the two of them like a shrinking spotlight and the ground began to rumble violently under their feet.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll take you with me!! Just stop! Please!” Adrian shrieked as he inched closer and closer to the puppet to try and stay in the light. He clutched the crowbar in his hand tight to his chest more like a security blanket than a weapon.

The world immediately returned to the original brightness and Wally smiled brightly at him that would actually be kind of cute if he hadn’t been so terrifying 2 seconds earlier. “Perfect!”

Adrian carefully examined the nails holding the puppet in place. They looked like whoever had done this had used a nail gun to pin him. They were almost buried in the felt. “Is it going to hurt you to take these out?” He couldn’t help but ask curiously.

“I’m just a simple puppet made of felt and fluff. How could you possibly hurt me?” He says solemnly and for the first time breaks eye contact with the human to look at the floor. It was easier to bear the pain if he didn’t see it happen.

The man couldn’t help the sad ping that tore through his heart at that response. Even though the puppet could clearly end him in an instant, it still took a shocking amount of trust to allow him this close.

“Well… I would say you’re more than just a simple puppet.” He laughs nervously and looks away when the puppet’s gaze snaps back to him. “S-so it makes sense to ask, y’know?”

“They need to be taken out whether they’ll hurt or not,” Wally said instead of answering the human’s earnest question. “So just make it quick.” The redhead nodded in understanding and, as carefully as he could, slid the crowbar behind the puppet’s hand and pulled.

The hand pulled free easily and fell limply to Wally’s side. The puppet slowly held his hand in front of his face and flexed his fingers. He couldn’t even remember what it was like to be able to freely use his hand like this. It barely registered to him as the other hand quickly followed suit. Without his arms being forcibly held up, he couldn’t help but sink to his knees.

Adrian stood there helplessly as he watched the puppet sitting on the floor just staring at his own hands. He didn’t know what to say or do in a situation that was so clearly emotionally monumental for the tiny being. After a minute passed he couldn't help but utter “Uhhh…. you okay?” Nailed it.

Wally’s head snapped to the human after being reminded of his presence. Right. He needed to be a scary “demonic” monster to get the human to do what he needed him to. “You’d have a hard time standing too if you were nailed to a wall for.. glory knows how long.”

Adrian flinches at the sudden stare, but he has to continue if he wants to be out of there before dark. Judging by the fading light, it was sundown now and they’d be lucky to have another half an hour of daylight. “So how do you want me to do this? I don’t know if we have the time to gather all your… friends.”

It would probably take at least an hour to collect all the little parts and pieces of the shredded puppets and probably multiple trips in his tiny sedan to transport it all. And secretly, he didn’t want those puppet parts crawling all over him in his car.

Wally looks desperately around at his friends’ scattered parts. He didn’t want to leave them here. They had suffered so much for so long. How could he possibly leave them? But if he let the human go without him, he would never return. Nobody ever returned. He closed his eyes tightly and sighed. “Take me tonight, and we can return for the rest of them tomorrow.” He said finally turning back to the man.

“...Did-Did you need me to carry you?” He asked nervously not wanting to upset the puppet. When all the puppet did was stare, he backtracked. “I mean- Not that I’m not saying you’re weak or anything! You just- You said that you had a hard time standing! So I c-could help you!”

Wally laughed at the nervous man in front of him. He couldn’t help but find it funny how skittish the human was. “Yes. You can carry me.”

He hesitated for a second on grabbing the little yellow puppet. But he carefully scooped him up and gripped him similar to how you hold a sleepy toddler with the puppet's head propped up on his shoulder. “Alright, let’s head out.”

As the two walked towards the entrance of the building, Wally waved at his friends. “We’ll be back tomorrow, friends. Please… wait for me until then.”

—--------------------------

The car ride back was awkward as hell. Wally spent most of the drive staring out the window. Adrian couldn’t help but wonder if this was his first time seeing the outside world. All signs pointed to that being the case. He had no idea what to say in these situations.

Eventually, he made it back to his apartment complex and carried him up the stairs the same way he had back at the studio. He fumbled one-handedly with the keys and opened the door to his shitty one-bedroom flat.

“Welcome the Chez Adrien’s!” He couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly as he flipped on the light switch.

The place was just as messy as he’d left it with pieces of yarn, fabric, and thread all over the place. He placed Wally down on the ratty couch he’d gotten from a nearby thrift store and turned to walk into the kitchen.

“Before I do anything else, I need to eat! I haven’t had anything since breakfast this morning and man am I starving!” He was rambling and he knew it. It was just too awkward not to fill the silence! “Did you want anything?” He asked as he dug out some Chinese takeout from the fridge and popped it in the microwave.

“I’m a puppet.” Wally’s laughed incredulously. This human just kept throwing his expectations in terms of how he’d react to his presence. Sure the man was scared, but even then he showed a surprising amount of care and consideration despite that.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense.” Adrian laughs nervously from his spot in the kitchen.

Wally takes the time to look around the cramped apartment. There’s a ton of fabric lying around all over the place. There's a table in the corner that he can see houses a sewing machine. So he wasn’t lying about saying he needed power for the machine.

Glancing back to the kitchen and seeing the human’s back was turned towards the microwave. Carefully, so as not to gain the redhead’s attention, he slid from the couch and walked over to the table to see what was on it. His eyes widened seeing the hollowed-out husk of a large stuffed brown dog.

“Huh? Where’d you go?” Adrian’s voice called making the puppet jump. He placed his plate on the coffee table and walked over to him. “It didn’t take you to start exploring, huh?”

“What is this?” Wally’s voice was eerily calm as he pointed at the seemingly mutilated stuffed toy.

The redhead followed his hand and blinked in confusion before a realization dawned on him. “Wha- Oh! Oooooh! It’s not what it looks like I swear!” He waves his hands in front of him as if to dispel the bad energy pouring off the puppet. “Th-this is actually my business I bought the studio for!” The energy starts to darken around the room as the lights flicker. “Let me explain! Let me explain!!”

“It better be good, Human.” The puppet says darkly.

“I’m fixing him!” He says panicked as he picks up the deflated brown dog toy. “This is Darby! His owner has had him for decades and her partner paid me to fix him up for her birthday!” The dark energy releases a little as the lights finally stop flickering. “So while yes, I did have to take him apart to be able to patch his missing sections of fur and completely resew him a new nose and replace one of his eyes-” He glanced over at where the puppet was staring at him he coughed. “All that is to say, I had to take him apart a little to make him better again. I was going to restuff him and sew him back together tonight if I hadn’t gotten…” He trailed off before he could finish that sentence. Best not to antagonize the pissed-off puppet any further.

Wally couldn’t help but blink in shock at the man. “You are by far the strangest man I have ever met.” He couldn’t help but laugh incredulously.

He blushes and clutches the doll to his chest. “It’s a legitimate business! I started with just fixing up dolls and toys I got for cheap in thrift stores and reselling them. After a while, a friend suggested I record myself doing it and suddenly it skyrocketed and I was flooded with requests for different restorations.” He looks down at the doll in his hands with a sappy smile. “It’s actually really nice to give these toys a new lease on life to bring joy to more people.”

If puppets could blush, Wally would have been bright red. This man was just adorable in the earnest joy of his craft. He almost felt bad for scaring the man into this. Maybe he could have just asked him to help them earnestly instead of using intimidation and it would still have ended with the same results. He shook his head to clear that thought. Humans couldn’t be trusted to always put their best foot forward. He and his friends are proof of that.

“Then it should be no issue to fix me and my friends quickly then.” He says instead of responding to the man’s adorable ramblings.

“It really shouldn’t!” He placates rapidly and places the toy back on the table. “Speaking of… Let me finish eating and then I can start sewing you back up.” He points back to the couch where his leftovers were rapidly cooling on the coffee table. Wally nods and the two sit back on the couch, though the puppet himself needed a hand to help him up.

The room was completely silent save for the sound of Adrian eating his two-day-old lo mein. This is more awkward than the car ride! He mourned silently as he took another bite. The puppet was just sitting there watching him eat! Usually, he’d put on the TV while he ate. But his mother taught him that it was rude to do that with guests.

“S o! ” He coughs when his voice cracks and blushes in embarrassment. “T-tell me about your friends.”

Wally just tilts his head and stares at him for a long moment. It was just fun watching this human squirm. “What do you want to know about?” He finally asks instead.

“Anything, honestly.” He scratches the back of his head nervously. “The only thing I really know is that you and your friends were part of some kind of TV show… I think.”

It stung worse than he thought that all of his and his friends’ hard work was so easily forgotten by the public. “... Well there’s Barnaby. He’s the head you picked up. He was also my best friend. He loved to tell jokes and gave the best hugs. And then there’s Julie. She was as bright as a rainbow and would do anything to put a smile on your face. It’s why she was never far behind Frank who was always a sourpuss. About the only thing that could put him in a good mood is his butterflies or getting a visit from Eddie. Eddie was our mailman but he was also our good friend. He’d always teach us a new craft or skill he learned on his journeys. You could always rely on him to be a good shoulder to lean on. He was just like Poppy in that sense. She was a lot like how I imagined a mom would be. Always there to help if you had a problem or were just in need of a treat! Though she was also a huge scaredy cat. One time Sally put on a performance of Chicken Little that had her cowering in the dressing room all day because she thought the sky was going to fall on her. Sally was always looking for new stories to perform for us. And of course, there’s Howdy! He always had what you would need both in the show and out! He was also just as funny as Barnaby when it came to telling jokes. We were all such good friends through it all.”

Adrian nervously gulped down the last bite of his food. Sure he was doing all this to fix his friends. But he talked as if they were dead. And what caused them to end up in the state that he’d found them in in the first place? But something told me nothing good would come of asking that. Instead, he said, "They sound like a lot of fun... You really care about them, don't you?"

“We’ve been through everything together. I’d do anything to make sure they’re safe.” The puppet said solemnly and turned his gaze towards the sewing machine table.

The redhead followed his gaze to the table then back at the sad puppet again. Well, he wasn’t gonna be rid of this nightmare unless he fulfilled his end of the bargain. He stood, empty plate forgotten, and rolled his shoulders. “Ready?” He asked with his hand outstretched for the puppet.

Wally looked back and forth between the man’s face and his offered hand. Now that the time had come to be fixed, he was nervous. If this human wanted to, he could destroy him the way the others had destroyed his friends. Even if he used his parlor trick on the man, he would still be stuck in this place without any way of getting back to his friends. Could he really go through with trusting him?

“Listen,” Adrian started and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through. But I’m sure it makes it hard to trust others. For what it’s worth: I can at least promise you that I’ll do my best not to intentionally hurt you.”

Wally stared at the man for another long moment looking for any reason to distrust the man. But he didn’t see a hint of malice in him. So hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed the offered hand with a smile. “I’ll hold you to that, neighbor.”

—---------------------------------------

6 Months Later:

“Hiya everyone! I know it’s been a while since I last updated but that’s because I have some exciting news I’m finally ready to share!” Adrian says cheerfully to the camera and waves for the camera person to follow him inside a brightly painted building.

“As many of you know I was approved for a business loan and would move forward with making Stitched Together a real place you could visit.” He excitedly bounces as he opens the doors wide open. “It hasn’t been easy, but I was able to find help in some new friends that really helped speed up the process!”

The portion of the studio that was once the dilapidated front desk had been converted into a cheery shop that any kid would dream of. The shelves were lined with toys and art kits. “This is our store where you can come and shop my stock of custom-made toys in person! We’ll also sell crafting supplies and craft kits. There’s also a rotating stock of limited edition plushes that you can only find here!” He says with a bright grin and takes a plush Barnaby doll off the shelf to wave at the camera.

He walks further in and turns to a counter off the side with a sign hanging overhead reading Hospital . “As the sign says, this is where you can come to drop off your plush friend for repairs!”

He rings the bell and Poppy walks out with a nervous smile on her beak. “We-Welcome to the Doll Hospital!” She nervously stammers out.

“This is Poppy!” Adrian smiles and dramatically waves his arm to present her. “She will be here to help you fill out the intake form and ensure your friend gets the best of care!” He fake-whispers to the camera, “She’s a little shy so please be nice!”

Poppy’s feathers ruffle in embarrassment. “You didn’t have to tell everyone that!”

“Sorry!” The redhead giggles and waves to Poppy as he walks to the adjacent counter where Howdy was wiping down the counter. “When you’re ready to check out, Howdy is your guy!”

Howdy waves and smiles. “I’m always here to help! And don’t be afraid to ask me any questions.”

Adrian’s face goes serious as he nods along. “He honestly knows more about what’s in stock than I do. Howdy! How many pottery kits do we have in stock?”

“We have 10 out on the floor and 20 in the storage in the back.” The large caterpillar states without batting an eye.

“See? Man’s a genius.” Adrian says proudly while the puppet rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment from the praise. He then turns and walks to the area off from the counter where they had set up several tables. Eddie, Frank, and Jullie were sat at one of those tables working on making friendship bracelets.

“This is our crafts area where you can work if you just can’t wait to get home to try out our craft kits.” Adrian introduces and goes to sit at the table with the puppets. “We’ll also have craft classes for people of all ages hosted by our teachers: Eddie, Frank, and Julie!” He points to each of them by name and they wave to the camera.

“I’m just soooo excited to meet you!” Julie smiles at the camera and waves excitedly. In doing so she sends the bracelet Frank had been tying to her wrist flying. “Ooops! Sorry, Frank!”

Frank huffs grumpily and walks to sweep up the beads. “Guess I’ll have to make the next one Julie-proof.”

“I think I could help you with that!” Eddie chimes in and starts to cut some long pieces of embroidery floss.

“You guys are meanies.” Julie pouts in a way that is still utterly adorable.

“We’ll leave them to it!” Adrian laughs and stands to walk through the double doors leading to the back.

The studio had another wall put in separating the studio from the very back of the warehouse. All that remained was the stage where they had set up some chairs for performances. Sally and Barnaby were on the stage chatting, likely about what to perform next.

“This place used to be a studio and we decided it would be a shame to throw out the stage. So instead we will host shows and dramatic story time for kids! Entry to shows will be free with any purchase in the store!”

“Our opening day performance will be a retelling of the age-old classic: Stone Soup!” Sally says brightly with a show of jazz hands.

“It’s going to rock .” Barnaby laughs as Sally groans in dismay at the pun. “Hey! Don’t take my rock puns for granite ! A good performer should keep their coal . Of quartz, you should already know that.”

“Stopstopstopstop.” Sally giggles helplessly behind her hands.

Adrian and the camera guy are laughing outright from all the puns. “As you can see, it’s going to be a rocking good time.” He laughs as Sally groans even louder.

The video cuts to everyone on the stage waving at the camera. Adrian glanced down to Wally where their hands were clasped. He was looking the happiest he'd ever seen him. It had been a long journey with a fair share of arguments and compromises, but they'd finally done it. He glances back at the camera to begin his closing remarks. “Our grand opening is this weekend and we hope you enjoyed the tour. If you live in downtown LA and hope to join us, you will find our store hours posted on our website! We hope to see you soon and thanks for watching!"

#welcome home #wally darling #this idea would not leave me alone #so I wrote a 5k+ fic about it #please read it!

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4townie · 2 years

Text

Road to 4☆TOWN

“Ugh, I hate when Kendall’s off.” Beckett complained. “There’s no one to get my coffee.”

Taeyoung furrowed his brow. “Who’s Kendall?” He whispered.

“I think he’s talking about Courtney.” Robaire answered. “I think…”

“I need one of you to run to the nearest coffee shop and get me coffee and a sandwich.” Beckett ordered. “And don’t take too long. We still have a lot on our schedule.”

“I cannot stand that guy.” Jesse frowned. “He’s such a jerk, meanwhile we’re over here breaking our backs to make this album. I have to resist the urge not to get his coffee just so I can spit in it…”

“Does anyone even know where there’s a coffee shop around here?” Aaron Z mentioned.

“Ooh! I think I do.” Taeyoung raised his hand. “I passed by one once when I got lost on my way to the bus stop.”

“When you what?!” T’s eyes went wide. “When did this happen?”

“That time you told me to wait for you while Robaire helped you practice.” Taeyoung shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s fine, I figured out how to get back.” He got up. “Anyway, I should get going so I can be back in time.”

“Wait, I’ll come—”

“I’ll go with him.” Z cut T off. “I still owe you for sharing your water bottle with me.” He winked before following Taeyoung out of the studio.

T blushed. “So that’s what that feels like…”

“Do you guys wanna practice the first song while we wait?” Robaire asked energetically. “We’re recording soon and I want to sound perfect.”

“No offense, but I’d rather take my time getting tired of hearing my own voice.” Jesse chuckled. “Now if you’ll both excuse me, I’ve got an essay to finish.” He grabbed his backpack and scooted away.

Robaire sighed. “College life does not look fulfilling. Guess I got lucky.” He turned around and jumped when he noticed Aaron T staring intensely. “Uh…T? You good?”

“You know, every time we have a free moment, you want to rehearse more.” T noted. “I think you’re a little loco, but it’s really cool how passionate you are about this whole thing.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve loved performing ever since I was in first grade.” Robaire said, smiling to himself as he recalled his first performance. “I played a king with one line in a Christmas production and everyone told me how great I was. After that, I wanted to be on a stage whenever I had the chance, whether it was singing in choir or a small role in school productions.” He frowned. “I never got any leading roles though, but I loved it anyway.”

Aaron was quiet as he processed. “I mean…I think you’re leading man material.”

“…really?” Robaire’s expression brightened a bit.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re helping me with my dancing, you helped Z loosen up during our rehearsals, and you even stepped on Jesse once.”

Robaire narrowed his eyes. “For the last time, I wasn’t stepping on him. I was helping him stretch.”

“See?” Aaron waved his arms. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I think you’re actually a pretty great leader.” His smile vanished when he noticed the look on Robaire’s face. “Um…are you okay?”

Robaire was staring back at him with tears in his eyes and a huge smile. “Thanks, man. That means a lot to me.”

“Well, I happen to be a professional ego booster so I’m glad to be of service.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“What about you, huh?” Robaire asked with a slight nudge. “Why’d you audition?”

Aaron’s playful smile suddenly became sad. “Oh, uh…” He averted eye contact. “It’s kind of embarrassing actually.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“That’s alright, I don’t judge.” Robaire leaned in a bit. “Go on.”

Aaron was quiet, still avoiding Robaire’s eyes. “Well, half the story is Tae-Tae. He asked me to come with him since his parents would only let him audition if I went with him. I spend a lot of time at his house so they trust me to look out for him.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“So…what about the other half?” Robaire prompted him to continue.

Aaron nervously tapped his fingers. “I kinda wanted to do something nice for my mom.” He started to smile. “She’s always loved music, and she used to have these big dreams of moving to New York and being on Broadway. But…being a single mom was hard on her.” His laugh was somehow both nervous and depressing. “I dunno. She gave up a lot for me, I guess I just thought I could somehow pay her back like this. If we make it big, maybe I could finally treat her like a queen.”

“Wow…that’s actually really sweet.” Robaire smiled a bit. “But you know we’re never gonna make it if we don’t rehearse.”

“Ugh, fine. We can run the damn song again one more time if you really care that much.” Aaron laughed and rolled his eyes. “Jeez, you must’ve been super annoying during your school’s rehearsals.”

“Well hey,” Robaire shrugged, “I’m a leader. It’s what I do.”

#4town fanfic #4town headcanons #4town robaire #4town aaron t #4town jesse #4town taeyoung #4town z #turning red #turning red 4town #4town #4townie

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caitimetravels · 3 years

Text

she's insignificant

chapter 10: where you've gone

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: none

masterlist

with a sigh, y/n stood. five was still writing away behind her on the walls non-stop. she didn't dare interrupt him, simply leaving. she would be back anyways. all she needed was a nice walk.

as she wandered down the street with no destination in mind she spaced out, eyes trained on her feet. suddenly someone knocked her shoulder and brought her back to reality. she raised her head, hoping they weren't someone looking to start a fight or argue with her.

"y/n?" instead she was met with allison. her technically older sister seemed frustrated.

"allison? are you okay?" y/n's eyebrows furrowed, looking up at the curly haired woman.

"yeah.. i think so" she frowned, "i'm worried about vanya. she won't listen to me but her boyfriend, whoever he is.. i think he's dangerous. i couldn't find anything about him-"

"you went searching for his records?" y/n pulled back in disbelief, "allison! you know vanya doesn't like-"

"i know, she already got angry with me" allison sighed, shaking her head.

"why would you do that?" y/n tilted her head up at her, eyes narrowing incredulously. "where are you even going?"

"well, i found his address. i was going to see if anything's weird.." she earned a disapproving look, "i can't just sit around and do nothing y/n! please, help me, for vanya?"

y/n's expression only darkened, "why are you trying to ruin one of the only good things in her life?! she deserves to be happy for once and im not going to help you take that away from her!" she begun to shout, freezing as she realised her powers were getting out of control in the middle of the street. "just.. leave them alone!"

she took off, hoping to get away, she needed to get away.

————————————————–

as the sweet melody came to soft halt y/n smiled up at her sister. vanya donned a similar grin, placing her violin down and joining y/n on the floor, cross legged and leaning back against her bed.

"one day, you're going to be amazing, v" y/n mumbled quietly, looking like she was in a slight daze, "more amazing than you are now.. you're going to be a famous violinist, i can see it now. 'vanya hargreeves, the world's best violinist'"

vanya softly nudged her shoulder, shaking her head. "no way, the world? c'mon"

"i'm serious!" y/n was adamant, sitting up straighter to see her better, "you're gonna be so cool! and everyone here is going to see you and say 'damn, wish i had seen how awesome our sister was back then' and you're going to have lots of fans!"

vanya snorted, shyly brushing her long hair to the side, "yeah, right"

".. you won't forget me when you're famous, right?" y/n leaned back against the bed to avoid direct eye contact, her voice was much softer now. "don't forget me.. okay?" she nervously side eyed her sister, trying to gauge her reaction.

"i could never" vanya shook her head, leaning into the h/c haired girl. both of them shared small content grins.

————————————————–

as she walked upstairs to five's room she heard a commotion, hopefully he hadn't gotten into a fight with one of their siblings again, right?

wrong.

"put her down" five snarled, holding a gun up to luther who held dolores' body out the window. y/n grinned at the sight, highly amused. who would have thought luther would ever threaten someone? well, y'know excluding their missions.. but five nonetheless? she leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossing and waiting for them to sort out whatever issue she walked in on.

"put the gun down, you're not killing anyone today. i know she's important to you so don't make me do this" luther paused, waiting to see what five would do. "it's either her or the gun.. you decide"

eventually five did decide that dolores was more important and dropped the gun before spacial jumping to catch dolores before she could fall. not that much damage would have occurred to the mannequin anyways, maybe a few scratches.

"i can keep doing this all day" luther spoke triumphantly, now holding the gun at his side. y/n snorted, catching their attention.

"you're such children" both glared at her in response, "c'mon, surely you have a better plan than whatever ended up in this-" she gestured vaguely between them, "squabble"

"we did not squabble" five hissed, placing dolores down and straightening his jacket. "but yes, i do have a one other plan"

————————————————–

the three of them, five, luther and y/n, drove down an empty road before slowing to a stop. five unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed, looking around.

"you know, i never enjoyed it" he started and luther turned to him in confusion.

"what?"

"the killing. i mean i was- i was good at my work and i took pride in it but it never gave me pleasure" he took a deep breath, "i think it was all those years alone. solitude can do funny things to the mind"

"yeah well, you were gone for such a long time.. i only spent four years on the moon but that was more than enough. it's the being alone that breaks you" luther placed a hand on the briefcase, "you think they'll buy it?"

"well, what i do know is that they're desperate. it's like a cop losing his gun" he alluded, "if the commission finds out they'll be in deep shit, well not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back"

"i should hold onto it" luther suggested, patting it with one hand.

"hm?" five's eyebrows furrowed,

"incase they make a move on you" he added to explain his point.

"okay, luther.. but be careful. i've lived a long life but.. you're still a young man, you've got your whole life ahead of you. don't waste it" y/n snorted and five turned to her, unamused.

"what?" they stared at each other for a moment before five shook his head, looking away with a small smile.

suddenly a car began to drive towards them and they all made to get out of the car. "here we go" five sighed again, he was doing that a lot, y/n realised.

the car continued to drive past them, stopping a few metres away.

"if this all goes sideways.. do me a favour and tell dolores i'm sorry" five turned to luther who nodded slowly.

as five walked away from them y/n leaned back against the car.

"i have a bad feeling about this" she nervously picked at her nails and luther frowned, looking over at her.

"why? what's wrong?"

"that.. i don't know yet" she looked down the road, "i just.. feel like something's off" she shook her head as five walked back, leaning next to her.

luther stepped forwards a bit, "what happens now?"

"now we wait"

barely a moment later they heard the music of an ice cream truck. y/n squinted against the sun and wind, trying to work out who it was. she took a moment to focus, sensing klaus, diego and ben. uh oh.

as the car got closer luther turned to five, "is that her?"

"luther, you idiot" y/n shook her head, "it's klaus and diego" right on time klaus waved to them as they passed.

the two assassins begun shooting, thinking it was a set up and y/n raised her arms to cover her head as luther stepped in front of her and five to block any shots.

suddenly time stopped.. well, only for five.

he frowned down at y/n next to him, the girl cowering in on herself. he felt bad for bringing her into something like this but she was very persistent.

he slowly stepped under luther's arm, looking at everyone frozen in slight confusion.

"neat trick, isn't it?" a feminine voice called out behind him and he turned to face the woman he had asked to see. the handler. she stared at him, pulling the veil over her face up and onto her hat instead before pulling her sunglasses off.

"hello, five" she smiled, "you look good.. all things considered" she softly gestured to all of him.

"it's good to see you again" he nodded back,

"feels like we met just yesterday, 'course you were a little bit older then" she teased, "congratulations on the age regression, by the way. very clever, threw us all off the scent"

"ah, well, i wish i could take credit" five shrugged, looking away. "i just miscalculated the time dilation of projections and.. well, you know, here i am" his gaze met hers once again, throwing his hands up before putting them back in his pockets, casually.

"you realise your efforts are futile" the handler shifted so that her briefcase was behind her, "so, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"i want you to put a stop to it" five moved his own hands behind his back.

"you realise what you're asking for is next to impossible even for me" she shook her head, "what's meant to be is meant to be. that's our raison d'etre"

"yeah?" five smiled sarcastically, pulling a gun from his shorts "well how about survival as a raison?"

"i'll just be replaced, i am but a small cog in a machine" the handler waved it off, ignoring the gun pointing straight at her heart. "this fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that.. a fantasy. i must say though, we'll quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-it-tiveness, really quite- quite something. which is why we want to offer you, a new position back at the commission, in management" the handler held a hand up, smiling like her offer was an obvious choice.

"sorry what's that now?" five scoffed as she stepped closer, hand tightening on the gun.

"come back to work for us again, you know it's where you belong"

"well, it didn't work out too well the last time" he glared up at her, not liking the persistence.

"oh but you wouldn't be in the correction department any longer, i'm talking about the home office, you'd have the best health and pension and an end to this ceaseless travel" she laughed freely, "you're a distinguished professional in.. school boy shorts. we have the technology to reverse the process. i mean you- you can't be happy like this" she slowly pushed his gun down, stepping ever closer.

"i'm not looking for happy" he spat through gritted teeth.

the handler only tilted her head, eyeing him carefully before raising a hand to stroke his cheek, "we're all looking for happy. we can make that happen, we can make you.. yourself again"

five huffed a laugh, gesturing to his siblings. "what about my family?"

"what about them?" the handler raised an eyebrow, acting like she didn't already know he intended to save them.

"i want them to survive"

the handler took in a deep breath, taking in the sight of luther protecting y/n who was still crouching against the car as well as diego and klaus who were in the middle of crashing the ice cream truck.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them" he narrowed his eyes at her,

the handler gave him a small smirk, moving towards the recoiled girl. five watched carefully, waiting to see what she would do.

"it's such a shame.. she would have done well with us. if only we could take her too" she reached a hand out, about to touch her but five moved first, spacial jumping in front of her and grabbing her hand. he held her away from y/n.

"don't touch her" he snarled, unmoving from his protective stance.

"my my, five, i didn't expect such protectiveness from you" the handler merely smirked, stepping away. as they walked back she once again proposed her deal.

"well" the handler begun, reaching a hand into her pocket and pulling out her sunglasses before putting them back on her face. "i'll see what i can do from them.. do we have a deal?" she reached a hand out to him, awaiting his acceptance. he merely stared at her hand before sighing,

"one thing" five stepped back, putting his gun in his shorts again. he walked over to hazel's gun on the floor, taking out the ammunition and chucking it on one side of the road before chucking the rest of the gun to the other. he turned and walked back, noticing the bullet headed towards luther and y/n. he frowned, using his pointer finger and thumb to move it over so that it would hit the car instead of them.

as soon as he shook her outstretched hand they disappeared and time was restored.

y/n shivered, ignoring the bullet hitting the car next to her and the way her siblings scrambled around to get away quick. she allowed herself to be shoved into the car with klaus and diego, spaced out.

"you alright?" diego turned to her while klaus stuck the middle finger up at hazel and cha cha.

"i felt someone else.. it was only for a moment but i felt someone.." she spoke solemnly, staring at her shaking hands. "and then five just.. disappeared"

tag list: (if your name is crossed i couldnt tag you) @rxses-and-reverie @lostgreekgod @on-yourmark-99 @bicyhot1 @navs-bhat @midnightmystic @shawkneecaps @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @velveticxyyy

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua x sibling reader #the umbrella academy x sibling reader #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader

445 notes · View notes

nctsworld · 4 years

Text

spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen @sehunniepot (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀)

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance.

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls.

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes.

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks.

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section.

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.

“See anything you like?”

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close.

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.”

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know."

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this."

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry."

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming.

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you."

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer.

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it.

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me? I'll be back for them. Thanks! -Miss Ageist”

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time?

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is."

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look.

“Oh, most definitely.”

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?”

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste."

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records.

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know."

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you.

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.”

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets.

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny."

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear.

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?”

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls."

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role.

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?”

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.”

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.”

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier."

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.”

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window.

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store.

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it.

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter.

“Surprised to see you here.”

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?”

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast.

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks.

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store.

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual.

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you."

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you.

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head.

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby."

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store."

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise."

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?”

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless.

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core.

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight."

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night.

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane.

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly.

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening.

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail.

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole.

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel.

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.”

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?”

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.”

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—”

You suck the words out of him. Literally.

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth.

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time.

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom.

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges.

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs.

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure.

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches.

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses.

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air.

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?”

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?”

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow.

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?”

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious).

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.”

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly.

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”

EPILOGUE

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk.

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be.

No matter, it always feels amazing.

“Johnny, Johnny—”

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.”

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.”

A silent beat passes.

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...”

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment.

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all.

2K notes · View notes

myckicade · 3 years

Text

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

#mayans m.c. fanfiction #mayans m.c.#coco x reader #coco x you #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz x you #johnny coco cruz #anonymous request #fanfiction requests #ask box fic

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Burn The Witch 13 - Trouble [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Fights can be inevitable.

Series Masterlist

Oh God damn it.

This mission was not supposed to include anything from your real life, and it certainly was not supposed to include your real life ex-boyfriend.

Not only was this going to make things very, very complicated, it also put the entire operation in danger. No part of the background that was specifically created for your cover had any details on your ex relationships and you didn’t think you would have to come up with something now.

Well. For what it was worth, you weren’t the one who came up with it.

“Just joking man. I’m her ex-boyfriend but no worries, I pose no danger.”

Bucky didn’t even dignify that with an answer and you heaved a sigh, trying to control the anger bubbling in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, “Yeah, we used to—um, we used to date.”

Bucky frowned, “Didn’t you say you moved here two months ago?”

“I did move here two months ago.”

“We used to date back in Oregon,” Julian explained and Bucky huhed.

“Yet here you are.”

“Yeah you know, the big apple,” Julian motioned around you, “I just got a job here and I figured I could come and see Y/N. Small town people have to look out for each other, you see.”

You gritted your teeth, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“She took you there yet?” Julian asked Bucky “Cannon Beach?”

“No,” you answered on his behalf and Julian clicked his tongue.

“I guess you could take him with you when you visit next month,” he said, “Surely you are visiting next month?”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Come on, no way.” he said, his voice filled with disbelief. “It’s sand castles contest time, you love that contest!”

Right.

Julian had always been the best at playing the civilian and memorizing the back story of any cover. He was great at lying and that was why every mission you had gone on with him was that easy, he could fool anyone.

Including you.

“She came in fourth place two years ago, she made this dragon castle, you should’ve seen it.” He told Bucky, and you rolled your eyes.

Fourth place.

Easy enough to make someone believe, hard enough to find a trace of on the internet.

Julian was an asshole for sure, but he was a great spy and now you were beginning to remember why though every mission with him was a success, you had still avoided it even before your break up.

This was what he did, he took over every single assignment, no matter who was the leader.

Not this time. This was your mission and your mission only.

“Y/N, did you….” Julian let out a chuckle, “Did you tell him about the time your grandma caught us at the—“

“It was good so see you,” you cut him off, glaring at him “But you should probably go now, I’m kind of busy.”

Julian paused only for a moment before holding up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Okay,” he said, “It was nice to see you too. Again.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“It was nice to meet you Bucky,” he said, “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

He walked away from you and you closed your eyes for a moment, leaning your head back to the wall.

“Fuck this shit,” you murmured under your breath without even realizing it wasn’t something your cover would say, and opened your eyes to look up at Bucky.

“Was he bothering you or something?” he asked you and you scoffed.

“Please,” you muttered but then pulled yourself together. “He’s not…that type no. Just annoying, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Because I can—“

“No,” you shook your head fervently, “No, please don’t. It’s fine, it’s just— who he is.”

How dare he?

How dare he try to take over your mission? You had put so much thought into this, coming up with multiple strategies, trying to convince yourself that-

That you were doing the right thing. Even if you felt yourself getting lost in this cover, it didn’t mean that Julian could swoop in and take this over as if you were a rookie agent in need of help.

This whole assignment belonged to you, not to anyone else.

If you were going to betray Bucky’s trust and feel like the most terrible person in the world, the least you could do was not let Julian take the credit.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you attempted to change the subject and Bucky tilted his head.

“Come on Y/N, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You don’t have to pretend like it’s fine,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I mean you don’t have to pretend, ever.”

Okay, this was too much. You could almost feel your defenses going up, the whole hangover and stress and anger and now Bucky being able to tell you were faking something, it was all getting the best of you and if you weren’t careful, you would say something you would regret later.

“I’m sorry?”

“I just,” he took a deep breath, “Sometimes you’re like…too good to be true, you know? And Sam has this theory that you’re—you’re somehow you’re doing this for me or the people around you but you don’t have to.”

“You think I’m pretending?” you asked, your voice coming out way too defensive for your own cover but you could hardly care.

You were slipping, and you didn’t have the luxury to slip. It seemed to take Bucky by surprise because for the first time since you had met, you were-

Aggressive. That was the word. Less like your cover and more like your real self.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he said and you let out a bitter chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah,” you said, “Okay. I’m kind of busy you see, I have so much to do at the shop so I should probably go back inside.”

“Y/N—“ he started but you pushed yourself off the wall.

“No it’s fine,” you managed to say, “This is me not pretending, for the record. I’ll see you later I guess.”

With that, you walked past him and went back to the milkshake shop, fury still poisoning your insides.

***

You could hardly wait until you could go back to the base. Even though you thought that by then you would have calmed down, that didn’t seem to be the case.

You were fucking good at your job, and you were going to prove it to anyone and everyone. Without any help.

“Is he here yet?” you asked Chloe who rushed to greet you as soon as you stepped out of the elevator into the base and she cleared her throat.

“Who?”

“Don’t even, I know you heard what happened,” you cut her off and she shifted her weight.

“Yeah. I read his report.”

“Exactly. Where is he?”

“Okay, before I tell you where he is I feel like it’s important that you remember we’re not supposed to kill our own agents,” she said, “The paper work is a nightmare.”

“Where is he?”

“Keith says it’s considered rude to kill your team members.”

“Chloe,” you looked her in the eye “Where is he?”

She heaved a sigh, “In the training room.”

“Great, more weapons to use,” you muttered as you walked away from her to walk downstairs to the training room. Anger was pulsing through your veins and you kicked the door open, making the pair currently trying to hit each other stop.

“Get out,” you nodded at the other agent and Julian let out a small chuckle before he wiped his face with the towel. The agent rushed out of the room and you narrowed your eyes at Julian.

“You look upset,” he commented, “Want to exercise it out of your system?”

“What the fuck was that?”

Julian uncapped his water bottle to take a huge sip. “Come on, I saw an opening-“

“You made that opening,” you cut him off, “And crossed the line.”

“Oh please,” he waved a hand in the air, “It worked out perfectly fine.”

You could barely control your voice now, “You almost blew my fucking cover!”

“I would never,” he said, “Trust me, if anything I did you a favor.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms, “A favor?”

“Yeah. Guys love competition, an ex-boyfriend being in the picture will even speed up the process.”

“This is my mission.” You said through your teeth, “You don’t get to make spontaneous decisions without running them by me first.”

“When was the last time you had a proper fight?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You always get cranky if you haven’t had a good challenge in a while,” he stated, “A good fight. I take it your boyfriend doesn’t tire you out enough?”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you and you let out a small chuckle.

“You couldn’t tire me out if you tried.”

He tilted his head, “Is that a promise?”

You shot him a look and lunged but he easily dodged you, scowling.

“Come on Y/N,” he taunted you, “I won’t hold back, you shouldn’t either.”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t hold back.” you grinned at him and darted to grab at him but he twisted your hand to push you back, making your back hit the wall. You pulled your hair into a ponytail and jumped to wrap your legs around his neck, spinning in the air to shove him to the ground. As soon as you both fell, you straddled him and pulled the dagger out of your boots to raise it and slam it to the ground right next to his head. A sly grin pulled at his lips as if he was having the time of his life.

“Look at you babe,” he said, “You got even better.”

You were very, very aware of the position you had both found yourself in. You used to find this whole thing hot, it was like foreplay to you. Mock fighting, training, all of it -especially with Julian- it used to be your second favorite activity.

Now, all you could think about was just how much more fun it would be with Bucky.

Maybe Julian was right. Maybe you were just a wild card.

A smirk curled your lips and you leaned in slightly to lock your eyes with his, looking down at him.

“My mission,” you growled. “Not yours. The next time you try to control what’s mine, I won’t be so nice.”

You pushed the dagger into your boot again and got off of him before storming out of the training room, still trying to keep your anger in check.

For some reason, you had a feeling it wouldn’t work.

***

No matter what you did for the rest of the evening, it just wasn’t enough to calm you down. Now to think of it, it wasn’t even completely about Julian and his nonsense, it was because—

You didn’t want Bucky to think you were pretending, even if you were.

Just because it was a cover, didn’t mean your reactions and the happiness you felt with him was fake as well. But he could still tell something was off— Sam could still tell something was off despite your best efforts.

Great.

You poured wine into your glass and changed the channel, trying to decide whether you should go and bug Keith or not. You heaved a sigh and tore your eyes from the screen to lean your head back, nibbling on your lip.

Dealing with feelings was much more difficult than taking down a target.

You groaned to yourself and took a huge sip of your wine, but before you could grab your phone you heard the doorbell ring. Your head shot up and you grabbed your gun to walk to the door, but as soon as you looked through the peephole to avoid yet another mistake like actually opening the door to Julian, you froze.

Bucky.

….Fuck.

“Um- just a second!” you called out before rushing to your room to hide your gun, then quickly looked around the apartment to see if there was anything that could tip him off. Overall, it looked perfectly civilian and you ran a hand over your face to pull yourself together.

Your cover was supposed to be angry at him.

You threw your shoulders back and walked to the door to open it, then leaned sideways to the doorframe, your lips pulled into a slight pout.

“Hi,” you murmured and his gaze lingered on your shorts and flimsy tank top before he looked away for a moment.

Ah.

Compared to 1940s, it was almost the same as you opening the door in your underwear.

“Hey,” he said and held up a small box of bagels. “Listen, I know you’re angry but um…I was hoping we could talk?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Keith’s door opening and he stepped out but as soon as he caught the sight of Bucky on your doorstep, his eyes widened and he froze. He quickly fixed his jacket so that it would cover his gun tucked into the back of the waistband of his jeans and gawked at you.

“What the fuck?” he mouthed and you got momentarily distracted, causing Bucky to follow your gaze over his shoulder to Keith.

And Keith, the badass spy, probably the only spy in the whole division who could give you a hard time in a fight, whom you had seen take down five armed soldier by himself with no weapons-

He waved at Bucky.

“Hi- hi neighbor,” he stammered as he turned to you and you shot him a forced smile.

“Hi.”

“Thanks for the cookies, I was going to bring you your plate the other day,” he said, “Do you need it now?”

Translation: Do you need back up?

“No, no,” you shook your head, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“Alright then. See you later.”

You cleared your throat and took the box from Bucky.

“Come in,” you turned around to walk to the living room, hearing him close the door behind him. It didn’t take him long to step into the living room and his eyes darted around as if trying to take in as much as he could. You figured it was natural, homes always gave clues about who their owners were.

Not to mention, as an ex-assassin he was automatically finding the nearest exits and things to use as weapons.

You would know. You did the same thing whenever you were in a new place.

You peeked into the box and frowned.

“What is this?”

“To be honest with you, I have no idea,” Bucky admitted, “It’s supposed to be a bagel. I just asked the guy to give me the most modern and weirdest combination.”

“Is this—is this glitter?”

“He said it was edible glitter, yeah. With lavender and cheese with honey.”

“Why is there two of them?”

He put his hands into his pockets. “I figured I could try one.”

You blinked a couple of times, “You want to try a lavender cheese honey bagel with edible glitter.”

Even the sound of it seemed to be painful for him but he pressed his lips together and nodded fervently. “Mm hm.”

You tried to stop the smile threatening to warm your face and put the box on the coffee table before looking up at him.

“Bucky, listen—“

“I’m sorry,” he cut you off, “That comment back there, it was so uncalled for.”

You crossed your arms, “Why did you say that though?” you asked, “Is that—is that what you think?”

“No,” he shook his head fervently, “Of course not.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know if I can give an explanation without it sounding incredibly weird to you.”

“Try me.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he said “It’s like— the way you are, it’s like someone somehow looked into my whole life back in 40s before everything and saw every single detail of what I wanted and made you.”

Yeah. That was exactly what you and the division had done.

“I’m not used to…” he motioned at you, “This. It’s like you’re too good to be true, like you’re perfect, does that make sense?”

A dull pain flipped your stomach and you stared up at him, trying to ignore your throat tightening before you went to sit down on the couch.

“I’m not,” you rasped out, “I’m not perfect. You’ll see it sooner or later.”

That right there was as honest as you could be with him. You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed the wine glass to take a huge sip as he sat down beside you, his gaze fixated on you.

“I’m sorry too,” you said, “It was an overreaction, it’s just… Julian’s effect on me.”

He stayed silent for a couple of seconds as if he had no idea how to approach the topic.

“Rough break up?”

“You could say that,” you scoffed a laugh, looking down at your glass, “I mean….you think you know a person, right? And they have no problem with proving you otherwise, prove that you didn’t know them at all. They—they betray your trust and everything was a lie all along and—“

And just like that, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, making you stop talking.

You were doing exactly the same. It was just another version of the betrayal you had seen from Julian, and you were doing the same thing to Bucky.

He thought he knew you, and you would prove him otherwise, and betray his trust and walk away when this mission was over. In fact, by the time it was over, he would hate you even more than you hated Julian.

You cursed under your breath and took another sip of your wine, trying to ease the crushing guilt making you feel almost breathless.

“Sorry,” you managed to say, “I didn’t mean to unleash it on you, I just don’t want him anywhere near me.”

“I could pay him a visit if you want?”

You pulled your brows together, distracted for a moment before you tilted your head to the side.

“What?”

“To warn him to stay away from you.”

“Uh, I appreciate the chivalry,” you said, “But I can take care of myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” he pointed out, “It’s just the old-fashioned thing.”

“Oh the old-fashioned thing?” you repeated with a smile and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said, “You know, taking care of my girl.”

You thought your heart would leap out of your throat as the warmth spread through you before the idea of betraying him hit you once again. The words felt like they were trying to escape from your mouth, the urge to come clean getting heavier and heavier before you leaned in to brush your lips against his, making him wrap his arms tight around you to pull you closer. You settled in his embrace, the back of your eyes burning but you blinked a couple of times to get rid of tears. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Can we stay like this for a while?” you asked and he smiled, pressing a kiss on top of your head.

“Sure thing,” he said and nodded at the TV screen, “What is this movie about?”

“I don’t know, it has cars and criminals,” you said, the guilt making you feel almost nauseous, “Bucky?”

“Hm?”

He would never understand what your confession actually meant, but you felt as if you would choke if you didn’t say it.

“I like who I am when I’m with you.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest before he reached out to caress your cheekbone.

“Makes two of us darling,” he murmured, “I like who I am when I’m with you too.”

A bitter smile curled your lips and you bit inside your cheek to control yourself, sniffling inaudibly before you closed your eyes, enjoying his warmth.

Chapter 14

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he’d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #ask #anon #this got so incredibly long... i hope you like it!#my writing #my fic

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violetlilysunshine · 3 years

Text

Be Careful

Harry Holland x Actress Reader

Requested

@harryhollandsgirlfriend: Ok, ok, a request for y/n and Harry being in a new relationship and the boys are all hesitant about it and worried y/n is there for the wrong reasons and just Harry defending you and how you all work through that. 🥺

WC: 1,505

Warnings: swearing (one f-bomb)

A/N: Kinda left it between the boys, hope that’s okay. Also first time using a taglist, so hopefully it goes well :)

MASTERLIST - TAGLIST

You’d met the brothers while they were sightseeing in Atlanta, instantly hitting it off with Harry. The two of you had been friendly for a while after that, casually flirting and always finding ways to get together.

He’d asked you out a little while ago, taking you out secretly. He wasn’t ready to tell anybody, specifically Tom, yet; he didn’t know what they would think, given your history together. They were worried that you were just hanging around with them for the fame, knowing that you wanted to work your way up in Hollywood as well. Of course, it wasn’t really anything to do with you personally, they just felt that they had to be cautious of all new people who came around.

Harry, however, knew that you were genuine. He had obviously gotten to know you the best and knew that you really cared more about people than fame. Sure you wanted to act, but you also valued privacy, just like he and Tom did.

Harry met you for lunch a couple days ago, in between scenes just because he wanted to see you. You did little things like this as often as you could, while still keeping things quiet. It was kind of fun sneaking around with him; it made every little second you could steal together even better.

“So, uh, somethings sorta been on my mind,” he stuttered.

“What’s up, bub?” you asked.

“Well I want to tell Tom about us and like, I wanna make sure that’s okay with you.”

“Why are you asking me that, Har?” you chuckled.

“Well, we haven’t told people, so like, I wanna know if it’s okay if I do…”

“You’re the one that didn’t tell Tom,” you pointed out gently, “he’s your brother after all, it’s up to you.”

There was a slight pause in the conversation; you could tell that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“I just want you to be comfortable,” you soothed him, “It doesn’t bother me if we tell him right now or not, whenever you’re ready.”

“Well I think I want to tell him,” he said, “I wanna be able to have you over and cuddle on the couch and hold hands around him. Ya know, all the boyfriend stuff…” he trailed off.

“Okay, babe,” you said softly, before repeating, “whenever you’re ready.”

You smiled gently at him, watching his lips curve up slowly. He was so ready to be open with you and couldn’t wait to get it off his chest.

“Maybe I should tell him alone,” he added, “ya know, brother to brother…”

“Whatever you want,” you said, grabbing his hand gently under the table.

“I’ll have to tell Haz too, ya know, since he’s always around.”

“That’s fine - whoever you want, whenever you want. And, to be honest, I wanna be able to come over and do all of that too,” you comforted him.

“Thanks, darling,” he whispered, squeezing your hand for a second before letting go and continuing to eat.

“And for the record, ya know, if we’re telling things…” you trailed.

Harry’s heartbeat quickened at that, “yes, darling?” he questioned, not knowing what could possibly be coming at him.

“I have told someone,” you whispered.

“Oh,” he said shortly, eyes widening, “when? who?”

“My best friend, before our first date… ya know, I just wanted to make someone aware of what was going on and who I was going out with and where I would be, ya know, in case something bad happened. Can’t be too careful these days.”

Harry chuckled at that, dropping his head and shaking it lightly.

“But she’s the only one, and she won’t say anything, promise. I mean, she hasn’t yet, so you can trust me when I say that,” you smiled.

Harry smiled at you widely, “I do trust you,” he whispered, leaning in and pecking you gently.

~~~~~

He decided on Friday that he was going to tell Tom and Harrison about the two of you. Half of him casually wanted to drop it like, “oh yeah, I’m taking Y/N out tonight,” on his way out the door, but the other half of him knew that he just had to be straight up with them.

They came in from the gym, dropping their bags right in front of the door, arguing about who gets to shower first.

“You got it first last time!” Harrison shouted at Tom, kicking his shoes off.

“Well I got there before you, mate, not my fault,” Tom countered.

They stood in the doorway, staring each other down for a second.

“Not happening today,” Harrison said quietly, taking off running towards his bedroom to get his clothes and hurry to the shower.

Little did he know, Tom had already laid his clothes out on the bed so all he had to do was grab them and go to the bathroom.

The bathroom door slammed upstairs and Harry knew what was coming -

“GOD YOU ARSE!” Harrison screamed, followed by Tom’s loud laugh from behind the closed door.

Harrison came jogging down the stairs and into the living room, “god can you believe that guy?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry chuckled, “brothers…”

Harrison just laughed at him, pulling out his phone to scroll through Instagram while waiting for the shower. Maybe starting with just Harrison would be easier…

“So, Haz?” Harry asked after a while of just sitting in silence. He was trying to sound casual, but inside he was shitting himself.

“Hmm?” Harrison hummed, not looking up from his phone.

“I uh, I’m taking Y/N out tonight…”

“Yeah? What’re you guys doing? Maybe Tom and I can tag along.” Harrison questioned.

“No, mate, not like that, I’m dating her,” Harry said bluntly, “have been for a few weeks.”

Harrison didn’t know how to react; he wanted his friend to be happy, but at the same time he worried about you using him. What if you got what you wanted and then just left? And broke Harry’s heart in the process? He can’t let that happen.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? What if she’s using you?” Harrison tried to ask nicely.

“Who’s using him?” Tom asked, strolling in the room, hair still dripping wet.

“Y/N,” Harrison answered, “they’re ‘dating’ now,” Harrison said, using air-quotes around the word dating.

“She’s not like that you fucking arse,” Harry answered, starting to get mad, “I knew you guys would be like this and that’s exactly why I didn��t tell you!”

“How long?” Tom asked quickly.

“A few weeks,” Harry answered with a huff.

“Oh, so it’s still easy to get out,” Tom said casually with a shrug.

“I don’t wanna get out!” Harry yelled, “I really like her! She’s not what you guys think she is!”

“Mate, calm down,” Harrison tried.

“No! I tried to be calm and you had to go and be a dick!”

“Hellooooo!” Tuwaine sang as he walked through the front door.

“Hey mate, Harry’s dating Y/N,” Tom answered him.

“What?” Tuwaine laughed.

“Harry’s dating Y/N,” he repeated.

“Yay, she’s cool!”

“What? You’re on his side?” Harrison questioned.

“Yeah, why not?” Tuwaine shrugged, “I just want everyone to be happy. If Harry trusts her, then so do I.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, calming down a bit.

“But what if she’s using him?” Harrison reiterated, bringing up his first concern, “or what if she’s just using Harry to get to Tom and then use him? Or the same with me?”

“Yeah, bro, I’m Spider-Man,” Tom added.

“Yeah, we all know that,” Harry answered, “you don’t have to remind us every second of every day.”

“But still, how do you know she’s not gonna split when she gets popular?” Tom asked.

“Because you guys didn’t take the time to actually get to know her,” Harry stressed, “she’s been hanging out with us for quite a while and she hasn’t posted a single picture of either of you, or me for that matter.”

The boys fell silent, that was true and they couldn’t deny it.

“And she’s always paid the most attention to me, so don’t you think if she really wanted to use you guys, she’d have ignored me?”

“I guess that makes sense…” Tom mumbled.

“Can’t you just be happy for me?” Harry pleaded, “like Tuwaine said: I trust her, isn’t that enough?”

“We just don’t wanna see you get hurt, mate. Honest, if you’re happy, we’re happy,” Harrison answered, “we just want you to be careful.”

“Well I am being careful, so you don’t have to worry. She’s great, I’d love for you guys to give her a chance,” Harry soothed.

“We will, just know that we’re watching her too. At least for a little while,” Tom said, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

“That’s fine, I guess,” Harry said, “just don’t weird her out so she runs away, please.”

“No promises,” Harrison piped up.

“I’m just happy for everyone,” Tuwaine said with a big smile from the couch, making everyone laugh.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” Harry said, fist-bumping Tuwaine.

Taglist: @xamourx @spider-barnes @hogwartsmarvelmommy @tulipholland @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cupids-crystals @sunwardsss @bvttercupbby

#harry holland #harry holland fluff #harry holland x reader #harry holland x female reader #harry holland x actress reader #harry holland imagine #harry holland oneshot #harry holland fanfiction #harry holland fanfic #violetwrites

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Mosaic Broken Hearts

Summary: More secrets spill out the more your relationship with Bucky grows

Word Count: 4.4k

And away, and away we go!

Bright flashes of light, explosions, blood spattered everywhere, pain, indescribable pain. You screamed for it to stop.

“Hey,” a voice was calling out, a hand nudging at you. “Hey! Y/N! C’mon!”

You screamed louder as your eyes snapped open, scrambling to get out of bed, and promptly face planting on the floor in the process. “You have exactly five seconds to explain who the hell you are, and what the fuck you’re doing in my room before I kill you. One!” You made your voice as threatening impossible, as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position. Where the fuck was a prosthetic when you needed it? Could you kill this guy from the floor? Well… It’d be messy, but you sure as hell would try.

With your mind racing, it took a minute to register that your intruder was laughing. Why the fuck were they laughing?

“Two!”

“It’s me! It’s Bucky. You had a nightmare.”

Different flashes went through your head. Screaming in the lab for a knife. Bucky offering to carry you to your room. You asking him to stay. “Oh…”

“C’mon,” he said softly as he appeared in front of you. One of his arms went around your back, the other hooking under your left knee as he picked you up and set you back in bed. “Do you wanna talk about it, or just leave it?”

“I- Gimme a minute,” you told him, taking a series of long, slow deep breaths as the adrenaline pounding through your veins slowed. “Fuck… You’re just seeing every ounce of vulnerability I have, aren’t you?”

“Could have just as easily been me having the nightmare.”

“Only you wouldn’t have face-planted out of bed in the process. Or at least you would have been able to get up by yourself if you had,” you replied bitterly.

“Can you not play that tough guy role who has it all together all the time?”

“I dunno, let’s ask my pride.”

“I’m not going to judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Or think less of you, or whatever else your head is telling you I’m gonna do. You can’t scare me off, Y/N. The only thing you’re fighting here is your own pride.”

“Yes, I’m well aw-” you started, then sighed. “Thank you. I’m, uh… not used to this. So I’m probably gonna be bad at it for a while. But thank you. For staying and stuff. Now… if you wanna go ahead and be the vulnerable one for a bit, that would be fantastic.”

Bucky chuckled, his arm snaking across your shoulders to hold you loosely at his side. “I’m sure it’ll happen eventually. I’m pretty broken myself. And rumor has it you have a soft spot for broken things.”

“Aw, he pays attention, how sweet,” you teased, squishing his cheeks in your hand.

He chuckled again, and you admired the throaty sound of it. “So, the nightmare?”

You let out a sigh. “It’s always the same one. Two car accidents. Two explosions. Lots of blood. Lots of screaming. Which is ridiculous to me because one of the car accidents I wasn’t even there for. It was my parents, and I was just told about it. But I still dream about it like I was there.”

Bucky stiffened, and you assumed it was in sympathy to having nightmares about memories that weren’t your own. “And then the other accident is yours and Tony’s?”

You nodded. “Yep. My family should just stay away from cars. We don’t exactly have the best track record with them.”

“How old were you when it happened?”

“When what happened? My parents, or my leg getting blown off?”

“Both? If you feel comfortable. It’s fine if you want me to shut up.”

“No, it’s fine. I was… Let’s see… I was 11 when my parents died. And I was 28 when I lost my leg.”

“You said after your parents died you went straight into the Army. How could you do that if you were 11?”

“Okay, so I left out some steps. My parents died. I finished school. Went to Westpoint, became an officer, then got shipped overseas. All the while Tony did whatever the hell it is Tony does.”

“And you were 28 when you had your accident, which means…”

“That I’m 36, yeah. Still younger than you, even though all that time spent frozen and whatever magic in that serum slows the aging process makes you look about 32.”

“I was going to say it means we were the same age when we had our incidents. But thanks for reminding me that I’m technically 99.”

You snorted. “God, my boyfriend’s old.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Shit… Jumped to conclusions… Fuck, sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I, uh, it’s fine. It’s more than fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I happen to like you quite a bit, Y/N. In case I haven’t made that obvious.”

“Good. Cuz I happen to like you quite a bit as well.”

~~~

Waking up in the morning with Bucky’s arm thrown around you was nice in a way you didn’t expect. While your friendship with him up until this point had already made you feel better than you had in longer than you could remember, the dating part was already adding to that feeling, even though it’d only been a handful of hours since you made the change from friends to boyfriends, most of which had been spent sleeping through the night. Bucky made you feel seen in a way you weren’t used to, and while it scared you, it also thrilled you. And it was more than just being able to see you. He understood you. He understood your pain. And it didn’t scare him. It was a relief to not feel so fucking alone, or have to put up a front.

Your problem now was not wanting to wake him up. He looked so peaceful, the long locks of brown hair acting as a curtain in front of his face. You knew if those fluttering eyelids flashed open, you’d find the most stunning pair of blue eyes, which was quite the statement considering you’ve known Steve for five years. Was it an unspoken requirement that you had to be god-level hot to be a super soldier? Or did the serum do that? Either way, it was grossly unfair.

You were awake, and your stomach was growling, and now you were in a predicament. One, despite your hunger, you didn’t want to leave your bed. There was a hot man in it with his arm flung around you. Two, getting out of bed when your prosthetic limb was still in the lab wasn’t going to be an easy task, unless you woke up said hot man sleeping in your bed. Which you didn’t want to do, because A.) he looked so peaceful and B.) you knew how hard peaceful sleep was to come by, so you didn’t want to be the one to ruin it for him. But god damn, you needed food. And to get to the lab to build a new leg.

It was fine. You could do this. You could get across the room to your closet where you had a pair of crutches without waking Bucky in the process. You were the king of stealth.

Through some small miracle, you managed to make it out of your room without waking Bucky, leaving behind a small note as to where he could find you.

As you made your way to the giant kitchen area, you remembered why you usually either hid in the lab until you made a new leg, or used an office chair to scoot about the place. These crutches were a pain in the ass, beads of sweat forming on your face by the time you got to the kitchen, where you came face to face with what could possibly be your worst fucking nightmare: the full team of half awake Avengers staring at you in shock.

“Morning,” you greeted, making it the rest of the way to a countertop, and leaning on it.

Mumbles of “hey”s and “morning”s chorused back at you, with the exception of Tony who went “Kid, get a chair. With wheels.”

Peter looked up from his bowl of cereal. “Got it, Mr. Stark,” he replied before dashing off.

“Tony, that’s not really necessary,” you started. “I’m just gonna grab something and head to the lab.”

“Don’t play the stubborn hero act. It’s annoying,” was all he replied with as Peter reappeared with an office chair. “Thanks, kid. Sit, Y/N. Toast?”

“Thanks, Peter,” you smiled gratefully, easing into the chair, leaving the crutches leaning against the counter. “And yeah, toast or whatever’s fine, Tony. Thank you.”

“So cordial, are you sure you’re a Stark?” Steve teased.

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned, scooting your way over to the table.

“Your leg okay?” he followed up with genuine concern.

“Which one?” you asked sardonically.

“Yep, definitely a Stark.”

“So hanging around the Manchurian Candidate helping you embrace amputee life finally?” Tony asked, setting a plate of toast before you.

“Actually it was an explosion that made me embrace amputee life. You were there, remember?”

“My brother, the comedian,” he said with an eye roll. “You know what I meant.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I mean I guess. It’s still not something I’m gonna go around mentioning for the hell of it. Kinda like how you don’t go around mentioning certain things.”

“Mentioning your business isn’t my business, Y/N, it’s yours.”

“I appreciate the discretion.”

“I’m sorry,” a man spoke up. “Is anyone else lost, or just me?”

“Scott, this is,” Tony started, but thought better of it. “Fuck it, it’s your business, you tell it.”

“Y/N Stark. Tony’s younger brother. Ex-military. Not an Avenger, I just live here,” you rattled off the basics. “Oh, and my right leg below the knee is fake thanks to yours truly,” you pointed at Tony. “Well, right now it’s non existent because I had to stab the prosthetic I did have. Different story, different time.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tony interjected as people stared at him with their mouths open in shock. “I did not blow off your leg. Stark weapons did.”

“Same difference. And it wasn’t meant maliciously. Just a fact. Anyway, I’m pretty easy to find if you need me because I’m usually in the lab. Speaking of, do you need me today, Tony?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“Cool. Cuz I gotta make a new leg.”

“Aw,” Bucky’s voice pouted from behind you, “and I was starting to like carrying you around.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You could’ve woken me up,” he murmured.

“Um… what is this?” Tony asked, waving a finger between you and Bucky.

“None of your concern,” you replied bluntly.

“Bullshit it’s not. Hanging out with him is one thing, Y/N. But whatever that is, shut it down, and shut it down now.”

“I’m going to say this as respectfully as possible 1.) because we’re family and 2.) because I don’t want my morning to become more of a spectacle than it already has been. But you don’t get a say in how I live my life. You had your chance to be involved after Mom and Dad died, and you ran away from that chance. And I try really hard not to hold a grudge against you for that. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since our accident. But I’m a grown ass man, Tony. Who I chose to involve myself with is none of your concern.”

“Oh, so you’re fine with your new boyfriend being a mass murderer?”

You laughed. You laughed so hard you doubled over in your chair, your sides aching and tears forming in your eyes. “That’s the best fuckin’ joke I’ve ever heard!” you kept howling with laughter. “Mass murderer boyfriend, do you hear this shit? Cuz the rest of us in this room are so innocent, right? Cuz our hands aren’t covered in the blood of someone else? Oh, God! Yeah, you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that, Tony.” You snorted. “Mass murderer. Yep. That’s a good one.”

Your brother’s eyes flashed darkly. “So, you’re aware that part of his mass murder history includes our parents? Or did Sergeant Barnes conveniently leave that out?”

You stopped laughing as you glanced upwards at Bucky. His hands were gripped tightly on the back of your chair, the knuckles on his right hand white from the force of the grip. His body was rigid, eyes screwed shut. “What?” you croaked out in a barely audible whisper.

“Yeah. The reason you got robbed of a childhood with Mom?” Tony clicked his tongue, pointing at Bucky. “Right there.”

You continued to look up at Bucky who stayed in his frozen state. “Tell me he’s lying,” you pleaded quietly. When Bucky still didn’t move, you shoved a hand into his chest. “Tell me he’s lying, Bucky!”

Slowly Bucky opened his eyes, his face, his gorgeous face, a painting of pain and sorrow. “I’m sorry…”

You hated this. You hated Tony for blowing up your life a second time. You hated Bucky for not telling you this himself. And you hated yourself for daring to believe that for once you could be happy. But you’d be damned if you’d let them see you break. You took a slow breath, sealing yourself off, the walls building around you. “I have work to do,” you said, starting to push away in your chair, but Bucky’s grip still held you in place.

“Y/N,” he said in a cracked voice. “Y/N, please.”

“You have exactly five seconds to let go of my chair, Sergeant Barnes, before I break your hands. One,”

“Y/N.”

“Two.”

“Please, let me explain.”

“Three. I swear I’ll break those hands. Metal or not.”

“Love, please don’t do this…”

“Four,” you continued to count, feeling your voice start to shake at the way he called you “love.”

He let go, and you pushed yourself quickly out of the room, not daring to look back.

~~~

In the lab, you tried to distract your brain, but it still raced. There were so many swirling parts, and you were so angry that you couldn’t pinpoint what was actually making you angry.

Footsteps and a throat clearing had you snapping up your head, body tense, not ready to face either Bucky or Tony. So when you saw it was Steve, your defenses fell. “Hey, Steve,” you greeted half-heartedly.

“Hey. How you feeling?” he asked, testing the waters as he slowly made his way to you.

“I’m not gonna bite your head off if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Don’t think I could blame you if you did. What happened back there was… intense. Tony was out of line.”

“When isn’t Tony out of line?”

“Fair point. But hey, I’m here if you want someone to scream at. Someone to help answer any of the thousand of questions running through your head.”

“I don’t want to scream at anyone. Kill Tony, maybe. But I’m kinda used to that feeling. I just… Fuck, I dunno, Steve. I don’t know what to be mad at, or about. I just know that I’m mad. Hurt. I’m hurt.”

“So start at the beginning. Work through it.”

“It’s true, right? What Tony said about Bucky?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“How long did everyone know?”

“It came out when we brought Bucky in. So a few months now. Obviously Bucky knew longer.”

“Obviously,” you snorted, then sighed. “Well, that explains Tony’s feelings towards Bucky.”

“But it’s still not an excuse for how it came out. There was a way to handle that situation and that wasn’t it. So if you want to be angry with Tony for that, you’re well within your right.”

“Oh, I’m livid. Like don’t trust myself alone in a room with him, livid. And I hate the position it puts me in. Being mad at him for telling me the truth. Sounding like an ungrateful, spoiled brat.”

“You can appreciate what Tony’s done for you while hating the circumstances that led to it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.”

“I deal in absolutes, Steve. It’s what makes the most sense to me. Facts. Fact: my parents died. Fact: Bucky caused their accident. Fact: their death shaped the way I lived my life, and the way Tony lived his. Fact: Tony’s actions ruined my life, not once, but twice now.”

“And where does that leave you with Bucky?”

You sighed. “That’s where things get convoluted. Fact: he was brainwashed as the Winter Soldier. So I can’t hold that against him. And I don’t. Me knowing Bucky caused their accident doesn’t make them less dead. So as stupid as it seems, I’m not mad about that. I’m mad he didn’t tell me himself. But even then? Part of me can still understand why he didn’t. I mean, there were things about my past I kept from him. And at what point do you drop a bomb like that?”

“So where does all of that leave you?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Part of me wants to clock Tony for running his mouth. Part of me is screaming that this is exactly why I don’t let people in. And part of me is still stupidly head over heels in love with Bucky, even though I feel like my trust in him got betrayed.”

“In love with him? Does Bucky know?”

You shook your head. “We barely started dating. And I mean barely. Like it happened last night barely.”

“And now it’s already potentially over.”

“Yup…”

“Well. And you can do whatever you want with this advice. But, it sounds like the real issue is with Tony, not Bucky. So try not to confuse the two.”

“But how do I trust him, Steve? I laid everything out on the line, and he couldn’t do the same for me.”

“Sounds like you trust him just fine if you’re able to do all that. So is your real hurt, with Bucky at least, in the fact that you feel he doesn’t trust you back? I mean, and correct me if I’m wrong, but this is just my observations. You don’t let that vulnerable side of you show often, if ever. I mean, everyone back there expected you to rip Tony’s head from his shoulders and you barely raised your voice. You have a very tight control on your feelings. You have a very tight control on what you let others around you in on. So if you allowed yourself to be vulnerable to Bucky, I can understand how that powershift makes you feel out of control. I can see how any indication of him not trusting you back is a huge act of betrayal in your mind. It’s like you loaded the gun, and handed it to him yourself.”

“Have I ever told you how much you scare me with how observant you are?”

Steve chuckled. “I knew Bucky a long time before he was the Winter Soldier. He’s not gonna be the guy to let you down. But me telling you that, and you believing it are two totally different things.”

“So what do I do, Steve?”

“You gotta figure that out for yourself. But talking might be a good place to start.”

“Thanks. Seriously. This helped me a lot.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

~~~

Your next visitor was Tony. “So…” he started, peering over your shoulder at the leg you were halfway finished with. “Break up with him yet?”

“So… find a new way to blow up my life yet?” you fired back.

His jaw clenched. “Blew up your life by telling you the truth?”

“Blew up my life by fucking ruining everything, actually. I was happy, Tony. Actually fucking happy. And you let me have that for all of what? 30 seconds?”

“So you’d rather your happiness be fake? Be a lie then?”

“It wasn’t fake, that’s the thing! Look, I get that you hate him. I get that you and Steve were at odds with each other because of Bucky. And I get that hearing the news that he’s the reason for our parents’ death doesn’t make you exactly keen on being his friend, or having him around here. But, God, Tony! There were a million different ways you, or Bucky could have clued me in on things. And of course, you went with the one that would hurt him the most, not even hesitating long enough to think about how it would hurt me in the process. I knew you were a spiteful bastard, but this is a new low, even for you. Whatever happened to ‘it’s not my business to tell’?”

“That’s why I’m here to apologize.”

“That was an apology?”

“It would be if you let me get there.”

“Well, go on then.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I let my issues with Dad get in the way of me being there for you after they died. Not that at the age I was in any way ready or capable of taking on the responsibility of looking after a kid. And I’m sorry that it led you down a path of eventually getting caught in the crossfire of my mistakes with the company. And I’m sorry for how I handled the news of you and Barnes and the subsequent fallout.”

“Wow,” was all you could come up with to say. Tony wasn’t exactly the apologetic or remorseful type. He was the “throw money at the situation in hopes it went away” type, a classic Howard Stark trait Tony had been unfortunate enough to inherit, alongside the arrogance. And yet, here he was, apologizing to you for everything. And all you could say was, “Wow.”

“Yeah, great talk. If you connect those two wires, you should be good,” he said, nodding his chin at your leg.

You looked at it, “Oh. Thanks.”

“Yep.”

“I mean it,” you said as he started to walk out. “The apology? Thanks.”

“Yeah, if we could not mention it, that’d be great.”

You let out a small laugh. “Works for me.”

~~~

Your final visitor was Bucky. “Been wondering when you’d show,” you said, as you walked around the lab, testing the newest prosthetic.

“Yeah, I, uh… would’ve been by sooner but I got caught up in a few things.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, I might have gone off on Tony after you left. And then Steve might have banned me from seeing you until I calmed down. And by the time I did that, he had already talked to you, and Tony was in here. So I talked to Steve. And… yeah.”

“You mean I missed out on another fight between you and Tony? Damn.”

“Heh, yeah… And look, I’m not here to act like an apology is going to magically make this all okay-”

“Good,” you cut him off.

He sighed. “But I am sorry.”

“I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it.”

“Then… Could you yell at me, or something? This eerily calm thing is really freaking me out. Yell at me, Y/N. Tell me you hate me. Tell me I’m the reason you’re broken. Something. Anything.”

You paused in your small laps around the lab, looking at him in confusion. “Why would I do that? I’m not the starry-eyed prince who cries when his knight in shining armor isn’t real.”

“I- What?”

You winced at your words. “Bad analogy. I meant that I’m not the type who’s going to cry and scream every time my feelings get hurt. So if you’re waiting for that to happen, it’s not going to.”

“Y/N, please… I don’t know what to do here. I want to make this right. Tell me how.”

“There’s nothing to make right. I’m not mad at you, Bucky.”

“You’re not?”

“No! You were fucking mind-controlled for half of a god damn century. And Howard wasn’t exactly winning Dad of the Year Awards. Fuck, I can’t even find it in myself to be mad that you didn’t tell me. I’m hurt, Bucky, but I’m not mad.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, that’s the thing. And I know. I know I had so many chances to tell you, and I didn’t. But how do you tell someone that without hurting them?”

“God damn it!” you snapped, your temper flashing before you could reel it back in. “That’s not why I’m hurt, Bucky. I’m hurt that I trust you, and you feel that you can’t trust me back. I’ve trusted you with parts of me I don't let anyone even get near. Hell, I’ve known the original crew of Avengers for five years, and today’s the first time they figured out I’m an amputee. That’s how hard it is for me to let my walls down. And I let you break them like they were nothing. And as great as it is to feel chosen for once, I cannot fuckin’ stand that it’s one-sided. Trust me back, Bucky. Let me choose you back!”

He took a step towards you. “Love, I-”

There it was again. “Love.” God, did he know what he was doing to you when he called you that? “Can’t do it? Think you’re too broken, and you’re gonna scare me off?” you asked.

“No, that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“I...don’t know actually.” He took a few more steps until he was mere inches from you.

“Well, you know where to find me when you figure it out.”

You turned to leave, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, twisting you back around the strength and suddenness of the movement causing a splintering sound in your newest prosthetic while you collided into his chest, both of your eyes wide. “Shit!” Bucky swore. “Okay, that was not supposed to happen.”

“Bucky…” you growled, both in agitation that your new leg was already broken, and in slight desperation of if he didn’t hold you steady soon, you were going to face-plant into the floor.

Thankfully, he understood the hint, and more. His arms snaked around you, holding you upright while his head tilted down, his lips crushing into yours. “Please choose me back?” he whispered desperately against your mouth.

“Not choosing you back was never an option, Bucky,” you assured, your arms wrapping around his neck and deepening the kiss.

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids @summerdaughter

#mosaic broken hearts #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #male reader #male stark!reader #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

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fundy-simp · 4 years

Text

Fundy/GN!Reader - Two Days [11,010 words]

Fluff! For this anon! You were lucky enough to join your European friends on their trip to England and in the process you got to meet your wonderful boyfriend Fundy. Oh, you also got to get the wrath of TommyInnit witnessing his friends in a relationship. (/lh I love Tommy) I have so much fluff for this idea guys, I’m going to write some really cheesy bits for this and I’m going to love it >:] Also there’s a very intimate scene in this, not spicy or heated but idk I felt like I should mention it just incase. Ignore the botched plane stuff, lines that are off from the vlog, and the slightly rushed ending, I was getting a little frustrated with how long this was taking <//3 I promise tho I still love the request and I’m very happy I could fill it in a way that I’m at least mostly happy with. Anyways as always please feel free to scroll past if anything about this makes you uncomfortable :)

Your fingers tapped on the arm rest, leg bouncing as you grumbled, how long does it take a plane to land? Immediately you laugh at yourself, it takes a while. You need to calm down, it’s not like your one plane landing away from your closest friends and the man you quite honestly see as the love of your life! Of course not. It’s just a normal first ever trip to England. This is absolutely fine.

...

You’re entirely lying to yourself, your heart feels like it's going to explode as it beats in your ears. Fundy’s going to be there, the man who’s brought you endless hours of joy and smiles. The man who’s pulled you out of countless panic attacks. The man who you’ve had to lovingly bully into making sure he eats and drinks enough. The man who you’ve fallen asleep in call with countless times. The man who all you’ve ever wanted to do to is yank into a kiss and never let go.

Fidgeting with your seatbelt for a second, you groan and you pull your hands up to your face, resting the heel of your palms on your eyes. You all have known each other for months and logically you know it’ll go fine. But your brain isn’t known for listening to logic, or you for the matter, so when anxiety starts to boil in your stomach you’re not surprised. So many things could go wrong you couldn’t even begin to list them.

It took the plane actually touching the ground to land for you to pull your hands off your face and realize you didn’t hear a single thing the pilot just said. Quietly you waited for them to say your good to go as you readjusted your mask. Good god, your fidgeting is starting to annoy you, what are all of your friends going to think? You sigh as you feel the plane finally stop, waiting till you see other people standing up before standing up yourself.

Slowly the passengers started to leave the plane and carefully you followed behind, trying not to get too close per social distancing and all. Nervously you pat your hands on your thighs, waiting patiently while the flight attendant checked your temperature. Once you got the okay you shuffled off the plane, your eyes scanned over everyone in the airport, looking for any of your friends.

After a few scans you finally spotted Wilbur, how it took multiple tries to spot a man who towered over everyone is beyond you, but aside the point. As you started to jog towards him you see Tommy pop up next to him, "Ayyyee y/n!!" he basically yelled and Niki shushed him, whispering something to Tommy before you see him huff. The scene made you smile, he was definitely just as loud as you expected him to be.

“Hey Tommy!” you replied, you’re still anxious but actually seeing your friends in its own way has calmed you down. Once you get over there Niki pulls you into a quick but tight hug before Wilbur flung an arm around your shoulder.

You couldn’t see his smile, thanks to his mask, but you could recognize the way his eyes were crinkled. “Hey, y/n! How was the flight?” he asked as he started walking, pulling you along with him.

“Oh it wasn’t-” You looked around for Fundy, frowning slightly when you didn't find him, “It was okay. Where- Where’s Fundy?” You asked, unconsciously rubbing your knuckles together, you know he wouldn’t lie to you but a lot of previous relationships made an uncomfortable pit grow in your stomach.

Tommy from the other side of Wilbur let out a bark of a laugh, “That dumbass overslept and missed his flight!” he shrugged, “Don’t know why he still bothered getting another flight but he should be here soon.”

“Yeah, he’ll be here. We’re gonna go get your luggage then we’re heading to his terminal.” Will said as he gave your shoulder a couple of pats, “Don’t worry your lover boy will be here soon!” he couldn’t help but laugh at his own lighthearted teasing while you turned red.

You could hear Tommy gasp as Will said the second part, oh god. You guys never told Tommy you were dating, you both managed to keep it under wraps for an upwards of five months. “You and Fundy are dating?!?!” He yelled, earning himself another glare from Niki that he ignored, too lost in his own laugher, “Oh my god, this is gonna be so great! I’m going to make this so awkward.”

Groaning at the sound of Tommy’s ‘I’m definitely causing mayhem and you can’t stop me’ voice, you sigh and pull Wilbur off of you before looping around to Tommy. He was definitely taller than you but that didn’t stop you from hooking your arm around his neck and pulling him down to your level “Tommy. My main man. My good friend. My best bud, if you will... I swear if you ruin anything within the first thirty minutes, I will personally assure we leave you in an alley after 9 pm.” You gave him a stern squint as he just stared at you. After a few seconds and Niki and Wilbur giggling, you give him a noogie before letting him go, “I’m joking, I’m joking! But, seriously, at least thirty minutes.”

Tommy huffed as he ran his hand through his hair a few times, “Bro what the fuck?” He stopped for a moment, seemingly remembering you asked something of him “... Fine. But you owe me one!” He insisted, you just rolled your eyes and agreed.

By now you had all made it to the baggage claim and you carefully looked for your backpack to make sure you didn’t grab someone else’s by mistake. Once you spotted it you quickly ran to grab it before returning to the group who had moved and sat on one of the rows of benches in the middle of the room. You could see Niki mumble something to Wilbur before he nodded, “You guys whispering gossip without me?? God, my own best friends would really hurt me like this huh?” you say dramatically as you pulled your backpack on.

The two immediately shook their heads, “No, no! Of course not, how could we live with ourselves if we did?” Niki replied, her voice sounding just as dramatic as yours. You both cracked into giggles, them falling into her words as she spoke “But anyway, Fundy might be a little longer so we’re just gonna wait here.” she patted the seat next to her and you happily plopped down.

The next ten minutes were filled with Tommy talking about basically anything he could get away with, future video ideas, Dream SMP plot, at one point you're pretty sure he started talking about SMP Earth, but you couldn’t be sure. It was a nice filler conversation, sometimes one of the others would jump in and say something but you just stayed quiet for the most part, stuck in between the weird middle ground of anxious and very, very tired from your trip.

When you accidently started to doze off you felt someone carefully wrap their arms around your shoulders. “Oh, Fundy...” You say quietly, leaning into the touch for a second before almost jumping out of your skin, “Holy shit, hey Fundy.” You said pulling yourself out of his arms before jumping over the bench to tackle him in a hug. “You’re actually here. Oh my god.” you are trying your damnedest not to cry as you finally learn just how comfortable his hugs really are.

Fundy holds onto you a little tighter when he hears little hics come from you, changing his stance just enough to be sure you both don’t fall, “I'm here, y/n. I really, really am.” he said quietly, burying his face in your hair. “I love you so much.” he pulled you away from him, pulled down his mask so he could place down light kisses everywhere on the exposed skin of your face, making you giggle.

“I love you too, dork.” You reply before pulling your own down and tugging him into a kiss, it was a slow one, full of unfamiliarity and so much love. It made your heart flutter more than he already did and you honestly didn’t think that was possible.

When you both pulled apart you were forcibly reminded by Tommy making very exaggerated gagging noises that you two were, in fact, not alone. “My eyes! Wilbur my eyes!! It’s so gross it's blinding me!” The teen jokes, still fake gagging. You and Fundy just rolled your eyes while you pulled your masks back up, neither you expected anything different from him.

Wilbur just sighed and lightly shoved Tommy, “Great job, you lasted almost five minutes, that’s a record I’d say.” Tommy just replied by flipping Wilbur off which sent the whole group into hysterics. He tried to defend himself but all his sentences just devolved into laughs so he gave up. All you can think about is how this is home, laughing so hard with your friends that you cry while you lean on your boyfriend.

Once everyone calmed down Fundy made sure his backpack was on fully before stepping over the bench. Niki let out a laugh as she jokingly scolded him, "The bench really isn’t that long, you could have just walked around, you know?"

Fundy just shrugged, "I mean, y/n just did it! I'm just following their lead!" he said, a shit eating grin on his face that made Niki sigh.

You chuckled as you walked around and the rest of the group got up, "Well, who's hungry? I know y/n hasn't eaten in at least five hours so why don't we go get pizza or something?" Wilbur suggested, fishing his keys outta his pocket.

“Fuck yeah, pizza!!!” Tommy yelled excitedly, quickly stealing Wilbur's keys and sprinting away.

Will stuttered for a second before running off after Tommy, "Motherfucker, not again! Get back here, you aren't even old enough to drive!!"

You, Fundy, and Niki followed after the two, laughing at their antics. Fundy softly entangled your guy's fingers, placing his forehead on the top of your head for a second in place of a kiss. "Oh my God, you guys are already attached at the hip-" Niki said, laughing more, you know it's lighthearted teasing but it still makes you blush.

"Aw, come on Niki! I thought you'd be the one to not tease us!" you said in a joke whiny tone, hiding your face in Fundy's shoulder.

Niki started to laugh harder, "Oh- Oh hell no, this is just the beginning!" she said, you couldn't see her face but you could absolutely hear the devilish grin. You lightly bonk your head on Fundy's shoulder a few times out of embarrassment which caused him to giggle. Oh. That's so much cuter in person, holy shit.

Sighing, you hear Tommy scream making you snap your head in his direction, Wilbur had him by the wrist, wiggling his keys out of his fingers. Tommy let out a loud laugh as he basically sprinted away from Wilbur to the doors of the airport. “Oh, we got outta here faster than I expected....” you mumbled mostly to yourself, watching Tommy fling the door open at full force and quickly close behind him.

“It was probably longer than you think, you were just too distracted by a certain Dutch to realize it.” Wilbur said while he pushed the door open with his shoulder, lingering long enough for the rest of you to walk though.

"Shut your dirty crime mouth, Soot." you say through a groan, you weren't actually mad, of course, but if they were going to be like this this entire trip your pretty sure your just going to stop existing.

Fundy let out a quiet laugh at your behavior before responding to Wilbur, "I don't know, I feel like this is a win for me! I get all of y/n's attention and you called me 'a certain Dutch' instead of other things." he smirked, still laughing a little.

Wilbur snapped his fingers, "Oh yeah! Of course my bad, a certain furry was distracting you y/n!" he said happily, as he directed the group towards his car and Tommy who was basically already there.

"Noooooo!!!" Fundy grumbled as he brought his free hand up to his face.

Tommy stood at the car now, trying to open the front seat door “Shut up furry boy, I want pizza!” he shouted, trying the door again.

A mischievous grin crossed your face as you lifted his hand up near your face, "It's okay babe, I love you even though you're a furry!" you teased him, which made him groan.

"No no no no no! Stop it!!" he pulled his hand out of yours, causing you to frown, before he crossed his arms and stopped in the middle of the parking lot "I'm not a furry and you know it y/n!! My own partner for fucks sake." You could tell from his high pitched voice that he was joking but you still felt a twinge of guilt in your stomach

Carefully you grabbed his wrists and tried to pull his hands from his face but he pulled against you, “Noooo, sweetheart I’m sorry.” You say in a soft voice, now trying to pull his hands away with a good portion of your body weight. “Baaaaabe, please...” you pleaded, you could feel him tense and shuffle his feet to better support your weight, his hands still not moving. “Oh, this is just unfair now!” you say exasperated.

Fundy tried to keep his pouting bit up but quickly broke into a laugh, it was the fox esque laugh he normally did, it still makes your heart flutter “Unfair!? You’re the one supporting, like, all your body weight on me!” You giggle as you start to lean down towards the ground more, making him wobble for a second before steadying out.

“Holy SHIT, I was supposed to make it awkward but you guys are doing a fine job on your own! What the fuck guys?!” Tommy complained. You turned his way to see him grumpily crawling into the back seat of Wilbur’s car, “Now stop being in love, it’s gross and I want pizza!” He shouted as he slammed his door.

You immediately let go of Fundy, almost stumbling to the ground out of embarrassment, “Listen! In my defense this is the first time I’m meeting my boyfriend! I feel like this is warranted.” you said as you got up and made your way over to the car.

“Y/n you’re gonna have to sit in the middle seat, I’m pretty sure the other two tall bastards would die if they sat there.” Wilbur said as he checked everything up at the front.

You shuffled into the middle seat, trying your best to not get into Tommy's bubble too much as Fundy sat down next to you. The drive was relatively short, only about ten minutes, and he felt even shorter when you absentmindedly cuddled into Fundy. He happily wrapped an arm around you as he rested his head on yours.

Tommy tried to complain about being stuck in the back with you two but Wilbur derailed him and got him to go on about their trip to an arcade yesterday. If you’re honest you weren’t paying attention at all but he seemed very excited about his vlog guns and you were glad he was having fun. Sighing, you lean into Fundy just a little more and he hummed quietly, if the car ride was any longer you’re pretty sure you both would have fallen asleep like that.

When Wilbur pulled the car to a stop you both begrudgingly leaned up from each other and everyone filed out of the car. Quickly you guys made your way into the restaurant, you and Fundy ordered your pizza first, just a simple medium where it was half his favorite and half yours. After they handed you your table marker you went and sat down, you and Fundy had your own both while Niki and Wilbur had one near and Tommy sat at a table by himself.

Fundy looked at the table marker in disbelief, “OH- Y/n, y/n. Holy shit, look at what table number we have.” he looks at you, quite literally making the pog face at you, which makes you giggle.

“What is it?” you ask, trying to push your giggles down as he showed you the table marker, it was bright yellow and had 69 written on it, “YOOOOOOOOO!” you said much louder than you meant to, making him break out laughing.

“Guys- Guys, you need to see this.” Fundy insisted as he turned towards the rest of the group, presenting the 69 table marker. Everyone fell into a heavy giggle fit, laughing more at another’s laugh causing a laughing feedback loop.

You bang a fist on the table a few times, struggling to breath, why were you laughing so hard? You had no idea, but man, the serotonin it gave you was wonderful. Eventually you all calmed down, the other three going back to their conversation while you and Fundy finally calm down. Silence grew between you two, it was comfortable but you’d be lying if you didn’t want an excuse to hear your boyfriend’s voice. You dig into your mind, looking for a conversation topic for a few moments before finally finding one. "So how was the plane?" you ask him, absentmindedly putting your hand on the table to tap some random tune.

His eyes flicked to your hand, smiling a little as he recognized the tune, one of Wilbur's songs, "Terrible if I'm honest, I'm unbelievably exhausted but it's okay. I'm here with you so it doesn't bother me at all." he said softly, his eyes full of love.

Blush creeped onto your face, something about him prioritizing you always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Before you could reply Tommy spoke up from his table, "That is the worst and cheesiest shit you could have said, you fuckin’ Simp." he was deadpanned for about two seconds before he cracked up in his bark of a laugh.

"And what about it Child Innit? You couldn't talk to someone you were interested in if you tried." Fundy retorted but his words lacked any bite to them, still it made you giggle as you heard Tommy sputter. Your friends bickering has always been the funniest and oddly coziest things.

You stop tapping the table and lean over it to lightly smack his shoulder, "Come on that was just uncalled for!" you say though a laugh, which makes him laugh.

Finally your food gets there and you both dig in, it wasn't until you took the first bite that you realized just how hungry you were. Thanks to that, the pizza didn't last long and soon the space was filled with your friend talking again. Wilbur was asking what to do next, since he really didn't have a plan, Niki suggested they go walk around town to find something to do while Tommy suggested that you all go to Wilbur's and watch Hamilton since he hadn't seen it yet.

A little to your surprise, Wilbur agreed with Tommy, mentioning how Fundy looked like he was ready to drop like a bag of cinder blocks and you had to agree with him. So once you all were fully done, Fundy paid for your pizza, Niki insisted on covering all of them but he wouldn't let her. As you all packed up to get back into the car you watched Fundy slip the table marker into his pocket, putting a finger to his lips while you both giggled. Finally, you all piled back into the car and headed to Wilbur's, which was a much shorter drive than you expected, you were much too used to America's commute times for this.

Once you were they're you all followed Wilbur up to his apartment, carefully you pulled your shoes and mask off before flopping down on his couch and getting comfortable. Fundy followed after you like a lost puppy, a little tell tale of when he got tired is that he got clingy, it was undeniably really cute. Once you sat down he sat down next to you and cuddled into you, wrapping an arm around your waist and craning his neck slightly to rest on your shoulder.

You pulled an arm up to ruffle his hair before turning and placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. He just hummed, stifling a yawn. Pulling your arm down, you turn to Niki who sat on the other end of the couch, "So how have you been Niki?" you ask, it's been a while since your last one on one conversation with her.

"Oh I've been okay!" she said happily, her eyes vaguely watching Tommy and Wilbur fight over the TV remote, "Been thinking about getting into art again, I'm not really sure yet though." she continued, trying not to laugh when she saw Wilbur basically sitting on top of Tommy, remote in hand.

A smile spread across your lips as you also tired not to laugh, mostly not to disturb your almost sleeping lover, "Oh really? That's great to hear!" you say as Tommy curses Wilbur out, insisting that he should have just let him pull Hamilton up, "I think you should go for it, especially if it makes you happy! I bet your fans, especially fanartist, would love it." you encourage her, you didn't interact with the Minecraft Youtuber fan community often, but a hunch told you that you were right.

"Maybe, maybe..." she nodded, it was hard to explain but you could tell she seemed at least a little more sure of herself now. By now Wilbur had let Tommy off of the ground as he pressed play on Hamilton. You've never seen the actual musical but you've heard all the songs enough to know them by heart, whether that was a good thing or not you couldn't tell.

Once the musical started playing the Wilbur and Tommy scrambled to the two recliners on either side of Wilbur's couch, getting comfortable for the long show. You frankly didn't watch it all that much, mostly just listening as you closed your eyes and rested your head on Fundy's. All your movements were deliberate, you were being very careful and highly aware just to make sure you didn't jolt him awake. Not that you were sure he was asleep, but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

You basically spoke it into existence because within the next five minutes you notice his breathing even out and the hand on your hip becomes loose, limp even. You silently curse to yourself as you realize just how badly this is going to hurt his neck. After debating with yourself for what you would call way to long you decide to catch Niki's attention, "Psst, Niki, Nikiiiiii," you say quietly, dragging out the second 'i' till she looks over at you, "would you mind if Fundy rested his feet, well legs- he’s fuckin’ tall- his feet would be more on the arm rest- on you? I don't want him to hurt his neck." you say gesturing to him.

She gives you a quick nod and you lightly shake Fundy's shoulder, "Hey baby, lay your head down in my lap, I don't want you hurting your neck." you whisper, he grumbles some but listens to you. Once his head is in your lap he pulls his legs to his chest and seemingly falls back asleep. Noticing this you look up at Niki and shrug, she shrugs back with a soft smile before turning back to the musical.

Carefully you run your hands through his hair and he unconsciously leans into the touch making you smile. He's a lot more fox-like than he'll ever admit but that's okay, he doesn't need to admit it for it to be cute. With your boyfriend much more comfortable you happily turn your attention to the screen, absentmindedly messing with his hair as you sing along to the songs under your breath.

When the musical ended Tommy let out a loud cheer, which caught everyone off guard and definitely made you jump which in turn made Fundy jump awake. “Oh shit- What happening?” he asked as he sat up and straightened his legs while rubbing his face.

“You passed out during one of the best musicals ever, dickhead.” Tommy replied deadpan and all Fundy replied with was a very confused and tired face. Tommy scoffed and looked away, making you laugh, how and why that boy was always so dramatic you don’t know but it was undoubtedly entertaining.

Shrugging, Fundy leaned over and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, “Hey, babe.” he said, lingering just long enough for you to place a kiss on his cheek back before leaning away again. “So what’s the plan now?” he asked, yawning.

“Well, Niki did suggest we walk around and just look for stuff to do, so why don’t we do that?” Wilbur asked, “Especially since now Fundy’s had a nap and all.” he stood up and stretched, groaning quietly.

Fundy followed after him, much to your surprise, and as he stood up he looped his arm in yours and pulled you up with him. You halfheartedly groan but don't stop him, "I'll be honest I've barely seen the ocean, let alone literally any other country." you mostly mumble, processing just how embarrassing that is to say to a bunch of Europeans.

Tommy shot up from his seat, "You've never seen the ocean??" he basically screams, getting a lighthearted smack from Wilbur, "Guys. Guys. We gotta go to the boardwalk, y/n would love it, it's considered-" he faked gagged, "-romantic."

You roll your eyes but don't argue, slightly leaning on Fundy for a few seconds before you lean up and gently place a kiss on his lips. There was a slight second of surprise on his face before it melted into a lovestruck look as he looked down at you. Your heartbeat was in your throat, that is a look you'll never get used to, a look that says you're the only person in his world, or at least the only one right now.

Before you could kiss him again Niki lightly shoulder checked you, oh shit, when did she get up? "Get your shoes on lovebirds." she said, you looked around to see the other three were basically already to go and scramble away from Fundy, your face going bright red.

You quickly make your way to your shoes, pull them on and put your mask on, and open the door for the others. The other three filed out, Wilbur waiting by the door frame and once you shut the door he locked it. “Aye, y/n, do you mind if I vlog? I’m a vlogger now!” Tommy asked as you all made your way to the street, he dramatically dragged out how he said ‘vlogger’ making you laugh a little harder than you meant to.

“Go for it big man, I don’t care if Fundy doesn’t.” You reply, threading your fingers in Fundy’s while the group starts walking, Tommy and Wilbur leading the group.

Fundy shrugged, “Since y/n’s okay with it, go crazy.” he agreed, Tommy let out a cheer and shoulder checked Wilbur just to mess with him. You can’t help but chuckle, “What’s so funny?” Fundy asks.

Waving your free hand you laugh a little more, “Oh, just seeing Will and Tommy in person reminded me how I thought they were actually brothers before we all got close.”

He looked at the two in question, squinting his eyes for a couple of seconds before he nodded, “Yeah! I see it, they definitely act like it.” he said as they burst out into a Hamilton song, Niki laughing as she joined in. Before you knew it Tommy had pulled out his phone, recording their shenanigans with a bright smile on his face.

It was all really loud and energetic so you and Fundy just quietly watched as the chaos unfolded. Tommy picked random times to start vlogging, catching half conversations and shots of the town. It all felt familiar even though you were the only one who didn’t really stream or do youtube, but it reminds you of when you just chill in their streams, mostly in the background to vibe. After a bit of wandering around you all ended up at a little food stand, getting a small snack before you went onto the boardwalk.

Once you all finished your snacks, Tommy started recording again, “I never know what I should record with these things.” he said, turning to look at Wilbur who just shrugged.

“The trick to making a good vlog is to just record everything, like just go up to people and ask ‘Hey, can I vlog?’“ Wilbur said, talking slightly with his hands.

Tommy groaned, “But then I look like a dickhead-!”

“Not if you ask!” Wilbur insisted, interrupting the teen. “Record your feet as you walk and go up to people and ask them random questions.” he continued, you watched the look on Tommy’s face turn mischievous as he turned the camera to Fundy and you.

“Hey! Fundy! What do you think of women?” Tommy asked, the phone all too close to Fundy. He stumbled for a slight second before pulling up the 69 table marker, barely holding a straight face as he tried to not laugh. “Oh- Oh my god! That is so incredibly offensive. Is that- Is that all women are to you Fundy?” Tommy asked while he cackled, causing everyone else to laugh with him. “Sexist Fundy!! Sexist Fundy and his sexist by association partner!” He joked.

That made you lose your mind, something about being sexist by association was the funniest goddamn thing you’d heard all day. You leaned onto Fundy as you struggled to breathe, instinctively you repeated the joke under your breath as you laughed which somehow sent the group into another laughing fit as Tommy tired to move on with the bit.

Eventually you all dropped the bit and happily spent the next two hours just wandering around the boardwalk and talking about whatever came to mind. Around the hour mark NIki had to leave, giving you all light hugs before she left on her own. The other hour was basically Tommy’s podcast, not that you were complaining, it was nice to listen too as the topics naturally jumped between each other and you did make sure to add your input when you felt like it was needed. It wasn’t until Tommy had gone on a long ramble about the youtube algorithm that you actually started to tune out. You swung your hand that held Fundy’s with a little bit of force, a smile in your eyes as you looked out at the ocean. “Really pretty, huh?” Fundy asked, knocking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh yeah, I’m so used to fields I never thought oceans would look this pretty...” You say quietly before you turn to Fundy and squeeze his hand in yours, “But I’d say you're still the prettiest thing I’ve seen by a long shot!” You whisper to him, your voice soft with adoration as you watch his face go red under his mask.

He quickly looked away from you, ducking his head a little, “Then you should really start investing in mirrors if you think I’m the prettiest thing.” he replied just as quietly, his voice a little unsteady. It was cute to watch him flirt, how he tended to tiptoe the line of stuttering, rarely looking you in the eyes when he said it.

Your face heats up as you tilt your head, “Oh, really?” You ask, “I feel like I nee-” you go to continue before Tommy screams, making you jump and everyone to stop in their tracks. Your head snaps in his direction as his phone starts to ring, which true to his brand his ringtone was able sisters.

The rest of you stayed mostly quiet, absentmindedly you teetered from leg to leg while you tried your best to not eavesdrop on Tommy's conversation. Which was a much harder task than you’d expect, whether Tommy had his call volume all the way up or his dad is where he gets his loud persona from and you could hear his dad say he’d be at Wilbur’s to pick him up in a little under an hour. Tommy said okay and quickly hung up, probably to avoid his dad saying anything that embarrassed him which made you chuckle. He swiped at his phone a few times before holding his phone up near his face, “Okay, we gotta finish this vlog up! Wilbur, it was nice hanging out with you and-” He turned the camera to Fundy, laughing at his annoyed look, “-and sad Fundy.” He turned to the sky in front of you guys.

Quickly, Tommy and Wilbur devolved into banter as they ended the vlog and Fundy drags you to a bench on the side of the boardwalk. “Tommy was right though,” he says quietly and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to rest on his shoulder. “the boardwalk is pretty romantic.”

You giggle as you lean into him more, “And you’re pretty cheesy.”

“Oh, so you get to call me the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, but I don’t get to say that walking on a boardwalk with the love of my life is romantic?” Fundy grumbles but there’s no bite to it.

“Well yeah! That- Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait.” You interrupted yourself, finally processing the words he just said, you bring your hands up to his face and cup it lightly, “Fundy- Fundy did you just call me the,” you swallow thickly, it’s not a problem if did, it’s just. You weren’t expecting him to care as much as you did already, multiple past relationships had taught you that you fall too hard and too fast for others to keep up, even if they wanted to. “The love of your life?” your voice drops to a whisper, like you hadn’t been dating for five months already and he could reject you right here, right now.

Fundy couldn’t help the light chuckle that left him and he brought his free hand to rest on one you had on his face, “Of course,” his eyes soften as he watches shock and blush spread across your face, “I had fallen in love with you the first time I heard your voice and I only fall more everyday.” He rubbed his thumb on your hand, you thought you’d pass out with how your heart soared at the lovestruck look he gave you, “Hell, y/n I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you more every second of this trip.” he moved to kiss the top of your head before remembering the masks and just resting his face in your hair.

Any and all words had completely dropped out of your head, “I… I don’t know how to respond to that…'' You mumbled, moving your hands from his face to wrap your arms around his waist as you bury your face into his body.

He hummed quietly, rubbing your shoulder, “And that’s fine, I already know you love me, don’t worry.” he yawned at the end of his sentence, snuggling into you more as he closed his eyes.

“How are you still tired?” You ask in a mumbe, surprised.

Shrugging, Fundy holds in another yawn, “Maybe you should just stop feeling as comfortable as home does, then maybe I won't be so tired.” He replies, while his words held weight his voice was soft.

Lazily, your gaze fell to the horizon, then to an arguing Wilbur and Tommy, you couldn’t hear them but you could assume they were arguing over something trivial. “Never,” you reply quietly, “if feeling like home to you means I get to hold you in my arms, then I never want to change that. I can deal with a clingy sleepy Funs for the rest of my life, frankly I think it’s cute.” you can feel him tense from embarrassment under you.

He quickly relaxes and grumbles and hides his face in your hair more, “I’m going to never be tired again out of spite now.” he said, mumbled by your hair.

You can help but laugh, your entire body bouncing with it as you replied, “Yeah, sure love. Whatever you say.” As hard as he tried he can’t keep a straight face and he quickly falls into giggling with you. After a bit you both calm down, simply enjoying each other's company while you don’t have any of your friends to, albeit lovingly, bully you. Neither of you are really sure how long you sat there, but before you knew it Wilbur was shaking your shoulder.

“Get up lovebirds or the offer to my guest bedroom is void.” He said in a dead tone, if you couldn’t see him you possibly would have believed him but his eyes said the opposite.

Sighing, you wiggled your way out of Fundy’s arms and tugged him up with you, intertwining your fingers. “Oh nooo! Whatever should we do! Fundy, my love, he’s going to make us sleep outside on this cold Brighton night!” You dramatically lean on him, bringing your hand to your forehead, suppressing a smile as you watched him try not to laugh.

Wilbur smirked as he puffed out his chest and touched it with just his finger tips, “It is all going to plan! Thy shall perish by sunrise!” his voice sounded like a rich british person making it impossible for any of you to keep a straight face, Fundy was the first to double over in laughter, you and Wilbur followed close behind.

Slowly the wheezing calmed down and you all came back to your senses, wide smiles plastered onto your faces, “Wait, did Tommy leave?” You ask, frowning some.

Stretching his arms above his head, Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, his dad picked him up while you and Fundy were having your moment on the bench. He didn’t wanna interrupt you guys.” he shrugs.

You can’t help but grumble, “Damn, I at least wanted to say goodbye to him!”

Reaching over, Wilbur lightly pats your shoulder, “Ey, don’t take it personally. You know he’s a busy guy, plus you know he cares for you.”

Nodding, you lean into Fundy again as you all silently come to the decision to start walking home. It was nice to listen to Fundy and Wilbur ramble on about things together, going from DreamSMP lore, to Wilbur's new album, to Fundy's new plugins, before looping back to music as Wilbur opened his front door. You didn’t really pay attention to what they were saying, just enjoying the noise of their voices.

As you all step in you pull off your shoes and masks, moving into the living room, “You can play my keyboard if you want Fundy.” You hear Wilbur say, visibly perking up at the idea, which Wilbur noticed, snickering as moved further into his house, “Seems like y/n very interested in the idea of you serenading them with your piano skills.”

Now they’re both laughing and you’re pretty sure this is where you sign your will and accept your fate. Quietly grumbling, you bury your face in your free hand, “Both of you shut your ups, I swear to god, I’ll go sleep in the airport.” you threaten, even though you’re all aware that’s an empty threat.

Fundy just laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap an arm around you “All you had to do is ask, you know.” you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke which only made you blush more. Stupid cute boyfriend and his cute laugh and smiles and kind touches and- You pull your other hand up to your face and drag them down before pull them back up and through your hair.

You looked at Fundy with a loving but exhausted face, “You’re going to be the end of me, you know that right?” You say, only a little exasperated, you can still feel the heat on your face.

He smiled at you, it's warn, genuine, as he replied, “That’s okay, you’ll be the end to me too” he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Smiling, you snaked your arms around him and pulled him into a kiss as he moved so that his hands so that they rested on your hips. Before you pulled apart you both could hear Wilbur yell something from his bedroom, office? Broffice. Chuckling as you finally did pull apart, Fundy pulled you to the broffice, Wilbur sat in front of his keyboard before noticing you guys and getting up.

He dragged you over with him and sat down, patting the seat for you to sit with him and you did, leaning on him lightly as he played a few short things to get used to the keyboard. It was nice to listen to, the small mistakes made you smile as you watched his hands, “Will, you should tell me where you got this, my keyboard is all wobbly. Makes playing certain songs hell.” he said, starting to play C418 Sweden.

Sighing, you close your eyes, sinking into the music and the warmth of Fundy pressed against you. Fundy switched through songs he knew carefully playing to be sure not to jostle you too much, you’re not sure when it happened but at some point you could hear Wilbur’s guitar. Quietly you hummed along while the two played, in the back of your mind all you could think about was doing this more often. Weekly would be nice, just a bunch of your friends get together and you listen to your boyfriend and best friends play.

Before you knew it Fundy was lightly shaking you awake, “Babe, come on, come with me to our room.” He says quietly. You let out a hum, letting him pull you up and along to your shared room. You hear some shuffling and zipping of bags as you halfheartedly try to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Here, go change out of your jeans, sleeping in those isn’t exactly comfortable.” he said softly, shoving a pair of sweats and a t-shirt into your arms. You move over to the bed and set them down before stripping to change, which immediately makes Fundy squeak, “WOAH- Woah- I- Hold on!” Fundy stuttered out as he turned around.

You can’t help but giggle as you pull off your shirt, “Why are you so embarrassed? You’re my boyfriend, you know?” you tease him as you slide on the shirt he gave you, the first thing you notice is how big it is, had to be one of his shirts.

You watch him bring his hands to his face, you could see how red his ears were from here, “Well, I mean, yeah but I’m being polite.” He mumbled, ducking his head as he moved his hands to the back of his head.

Pulling off the jeans quickly before slipping on the sweats, you walk over to Fundy and loop your arms around his waist, resting your face on his back. “Okay, Mr. I’m Very Polite and Nice, I’m all changed. It’s time for bed.” You say, tugging him slightly towards the bed. He nodded and pulled himself out of your grasp, headed to the bed as he dragged you along. He flopped down and you soon followed, quickly he shuffled the blanket over you both and pulled you into his chest.

The two of you sat there quietly, relishing in each other's touch as you listened to the other’s heartbeat. It was almost overwhelming how much Fundy felt like home, how his touches brought a sense of calm you didn’t you could get to. It was weird, new, exciting even, in its own way.

Then the fact you were leaving tomorrow hit you like a ton of bricks. Your brain starts to spiral, unconsciously your grip tightens on the front of Fundy’s shirt. You feel like you can’t breathe. Your eyes blur as you feel Fundy grab your hand, steadying it- wait when did you start shaking? He rubbed soft circles on it, his other hand felt grounding on your back as you curled into him just ever so slightly more. Two days wasn't enough. One night wasn't enough. You don't know how you're going to breathe now that you've learned what it feels like to actually have him by your side. "It's not fair." you quietly grumble, the words barely comprehensible.

His grip on your shirt tightens as he places a kiss on the top of your head, "I know, I know babe..." his voice was soft as he spoke, "Let's just enjoy it while we have it."

All you can do is nod, your brain too busy trying to memorize what it felt like to have your head tucked under his chin and your arms around his waist. After a couple of cozy silent minutes Fundy started to hum a tune, you couldn't recognize it but you know he's sung it to you before. You could feel the hums in his chest, the scene felt surreal, like every other part of this day. You didn’t bother stopping the tears that pricked your eyes.

You fell asleep like that, him humming quietly and rubbing calming circles on your back. Trying your best you committed every touch to memory as you slowly faded into sleep, just barely catching Fundy whispering "I love you, y/n." as you feel into one of the most comfortable rests of your life.

When you woke up your arms and legs were entangled with Fundy’s gangly ones, his face softly tucked into the crook of your neck. You didn’t want to move and unless someone had a real good reason you weren’t going to. You’re pretty sure this is what heaven feels like, holding the love of your life close as the sun poked through the half drawn curtains making the whole situation feel all the more unreal. That moment was cut short as Fundy started to wake up, instinctively pulling away from you as he did so. You whine quietly and weakly try to pull him back, after a few seconds he listens and reburies his face in your neck.

The two of you laid there like that for a while, probably around an hour, before you begrudgingly tell him you both should get up. Fundy let out a loud groan as you slipped out of his grasp, you sat up and stretched your arms over your head, looking over at him who now laid with his arms stretched out from his body.

Wait. When did he take his shirt off? Of course you've seen him shirtless before but something about seeing it in person is fundamentally different. It felt so much more, intimate, than before. You hadn't even realized you were staring till Fundy spoke up, a laugh in his words "If your gonna stare might as well touch." his voice was low, still laced with sleep.

"Wh- I- Uh. Well. I mean-" you stutter out, looking away making him laugh more. After a few seconds you look back at him, he didn't move at all, which didn't surprise you. Silently you turn towards him, you glance up at him holding his sleepy gaze as your hand hovered over his waist. He gave you a small encouraging nod and you lightly touched him, his muscles involuntarily tense at your touch, shit your hands were cold weren’t they? You internally cringe at yourself but just as quickly as he tensed, he relaxed, letting out a quiet hum as your hand started to warm.

You felt so dumb, looking at Fundy like you were a child seeing fireworks for the first time holding the same hesitation, even as if you could burn yourself or worse, you could hurt him. Of course, you knew you wouldn’t hurt him but unfamiliarity and anxiety boiled in your stomach no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was okay. Looking up at Fundy you can see his face soften, a smile on his lips as he leaves you to your own devices, not wanting to interrupt whatever process you were creating.

Silently grumbling at the lack of direction and you go to place your other hand on him, only to realize just how weirdly you were positioned. You pulled away from him, earning yourself an eyebrow raise from your boyfriend which you just wave your hand at. Carefully you straddle his hips, earning a soft grunt from him but he doesn't stop you, somehow you manage to just completely blank just how close you are as you continue to run your hands over his chest.

Despite how inherently not innocent the scene looked out of context, in context it was the exact opposite. Your movements were filled with both boundless curiosity as you tried to commit the feeling of his soft, pale skin under your hands and endless hesitation as you tried not to do something wrong. "You know, you are really, really handsome..." you say quietly, it's still hard to believe you're actually able to touch him if you're honest.

Softly you cup his face, leaning down and placing soft kisses all over it, making him quietly giggle. Pecking softly at his lips before you moved on to his jaw, then his neck. It was odd, to get to this point of intimacy without there being some sort of sexual motive threw you off, but it was a much welcomed change of pace. Something about leaving light kisses on the neck and collarbone felt different when it was just reassurances of love.

As you sit up away from him he hums quietly, finally awake enough to really process what's happening. After another minute or so he sat up quickly, knocking you off balance and sending you back towards his legs. Before you hit his legs he grabbed your waist, pulling you close, the situation happened so fast that by the time you realized he was fully awake you were already in his arms, both of you giggling messes. Fundy rested his nose in the crook of your neck, you could feel the smile he wore pressed against your skin.

It was a calm and serene scene, one you hope to have again and again and again when you guys can be together more. While you were lost in thought he smirked as he blew a raspberry on your neck, making you let out a loud laugh, "WH- Wait- Hold on! I! Fu-Fundy, what the f-uck??" you struggled to ask through your laughter as he continued to assault your neck with raspberries, moving in between each one.

You pushed against him, trying and failing to get away from his attack. After multiple failed sentences, giggles, and barks of laughter he finally let you go, his face plastered in a smug but still genuinely happy grin. You wanted to ask him what that was all about but air was not being your friend so you just rested your head in his shoulder, struggling to catch your breath.

"I'm sorry, but after I let you pamper me while I was half asleep I thought I'd just keep the train rolling." he said as if he read your mind, his hands resting comfortably on your hips as he placed a kiss on your cheek. "I couldn't resist your laughter, I love it too much!" he said happily.

You let out a quiet defeated sigh, moving so now your cheek rested on his shoulder, your nose nestled in the crook of his neck. "Did Wilbur have plans for us today?" you ask quietly, part of you wished he did but another part of you is completely okay with laying in bed with Fundy till you needed to go to the airport.

Fundy thought for a moment, fingers tapping lightly on your hips, "No idea, honestly." he finally said, shrugging ever so slightly. "I should probably text him." he pulled one of his hands off of you and leaned to grab his phone off the bedside table. He moved his hand to your lower back and he leaned over you to see his phone. Melting into his touch you let out a quiet hum as you placed a hand over his heart, feeling his heartbeat through your fingertips as he typed away on his phone. You two sat like that for a few minutes before he spoke up, “Wilbur said he was gonna go get drinks with Niki, Phil, and Tristin later today, around four pm. We’re free to join but he also understands if you don’t wanna drink before your flight.”

Silently you thought, tapping your fingers lightly on his chest. On one hand it would be nice to chill out with Phil, especially since neither you or Fundy had met with him in person yet. On the other you know you, and if you were hanging around a bunch of people who were drinking you’re going to end up drinking as well. “As much as I hate to say it, I really don’t wanna drink before my flight.” You say sighing, Fundy just nods as he shoots a message back to Wilbur.

“Well since we’re gonna lay in bed all day…” Fundy started as he turned his body and flopped you both down onto your sides, both of you giggling messes. Carefully you moved your hands from his chest to his face, cupping his cheeks softly. “... You know you’re really, really pretty?” he whispered, grabbing one of your hands and placing a soft kiss on your palm.

You sputter and duck your head, trying to hide the blush on your face. “You may have told me one or two times…” You say quietly, mostly as a joke.

His head perks up, “Only once or twice?” He asked, you chuckle and continue the bit nodding. He gasped as he softly makes you look at him, he holds your face as he gives you a serious look, “You’re pretty, you are so goddamn pretty, y/n. I every fucking day think about how you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Any time my mind wonders it finds its way to you because- because, you just- y/n you feel like home. Whenever I’m with you, whether that’s in person or in some form of call, I feel like I should pinch myself and remind myself that I’m actually awake.” He stops for a second, taking a few breaths as your face gets redder making him chuckle slightly. “God- I am so in love with you. I- To quote you from last night: You’re going to be the end of me, you know that right?” he finishes his spiel.

You’re on cloud nine. Point blank. “Damn it, how the hell do you always know what to say?” you mumble before you snaked your arms around his neck and connect your lips. It wasn’t heated but it was passionate, full of emotions that didn’t have proper words but still needed to be communicated. Pulling apart you both were panting, only a few microseconds before you started laughing, “We are so cheesy, oh my god.” you say quietly through laughter, he joined you with a large smile on his face.

“Maybe we are cheesy, but we’re cheesy together so who cares.” he replied, placing a soft kiss on your nose.

You laughed harder, fingers messing with his hair by the nape of his neck, “You’re proving my point you fuckin’ nerd!” You basically cackled out, when you looked up the in love look in his eyes almost knocked the breath out of you. You tucked yourself under his chin, hiding your face as a hand still carded through his hair.

You two sat in bed for a few hours, scrolling through different platforms and showing each other funny or cute things. It was nice, cozy even as you fell into a simple routine, every once and a while you’d switch positions and continue with your scrolling. All too soon five pm rolled around and Fundy reluctantly brought it to your attention, “Hey love, your flight’s at eight right?” he asked quietly, you two were spooning, you as the little spoon as his chin was tucked over your shoulder.

Groaning, you nodded, “Yeah it is.” you say quietly, sinking into his touch more.

It was quiet for a few seconds before he continued, “We need to get up..” he slowly pulled away from you, making you whine but inevitably listen. Groggily, you make your way to your bag, pulling out a simple t-shirt and jeans. You stripped and Fundy did the same thing as last night, making you chuckle but you don’t say anything this time.

Once changed you walk over to him and lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek, “How mad do you think Wilbur would be if I made us some breakfast? Well, ‘breakfast’.” You asked, making air quotes around the second breakfast.

He hummed, thinking for a second before shrugging, “Probably not at all, but if he does it was my idea.” he said as he turned around and placed a kiss on your forehead, “I’m gonna shower real fast so just come knock on the door when it’s done.”

You nodded and peeled yourself off of him, making your way to the kitchen. You make some simple eggs and toast, not wanting to use too much food from your friends kitchen and when you finished fifteen minutes later Fundy was walking into the kitchen, “Aw man, you put a shirt on.” you say in faux disappointment.

He sputtered for a second before shaking his head, “We are literally about to leave and go out in public.” he said, grabbing one of the plates from the counter as he looked through the drawers for a fork.

Rolling your eyes, you lightly bump his hip with yours when he finally finds the forks, dropping the subject in favor of some comfortable silence while you both ate. Or at least partially comfortable, the fact of the plane ride still hung in the air, uncommented on but there. Fundy finished before you, placing his plate in the sink and giving you a kiss on the top of your head before heading into the guest bedroom. A few minutes later you finished your own food and you washed the dishes that you guys used, eyes falling to the stove clock: 6:30 pm. Sighing, you placed the dishes into the strainer and made your way to the guest room, “Fuuuns,” you whine more than really say, “we probably should go soon, since I wanna still say bye to Wilbur.”

He jumps at the sound of your voice, zipping up the bag in his hands on instinct, “Oh- Hey y/n!” he said quickly.

You walk over and lean on him as you look at your bag in his hands, “Whatcha up to, big man?” you asked, grabbing the bag from him.

“Oh I just, I wanted to give you something but I thought it’d be better for you to find it when you got home…” he said as you opened your bag up, smiling as you see one of his hoodies folded on the top, “I was just gonna give you one of my hoodies but it didn’t feel special enough, sooo…” he dragged out his words as you pulled out his iconic hoodie, “I gave you the hoodie.” he finished with a large smile.

Your face goes bright red as you pull it on, it smelled like him, like home, you’re too lost in the gesture to notice when Fundy pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “You’re… You’re.” You didn’t know what words you were trying to find, you knew he loved this hoodie, he wore it all the time even, it felt weird, both very wrong and very right for you to take it, “Are you sure?” you asked quietly.

“Of course,” He hummed, “what better thing to remind you that I love you and that I’m here for you than my favorite hoodie?” you just stuttered in response and nodded, “Plus you look very cute in my clothes.” he said as he leaned away from you before he pulled you into a kiss, it took you a few seconds to kiss him back, the cogs in your brain fighting between stopping entirely and going twice the speed.

When he pulled away from you, you were breathless, “Man. I’m going to die without your kisses, what the hell…” You mumbled as you buried your face into his chest.

“Nooo, don’t die,” he replied dramatically, “if you die then how am I gonna kiss you when you come back?” he jokingly held you tightly, but a small part of you knew it wasn’t a joke, that he fully processed just how much he’s going to miss holding you.

You let out a sigh muffled by his chest, “Well, guess I’ll just live forever.” you said quietly, which made him chuckle slightly. You know it’s a joke but if you could find a way, you would. Just for Fundy. After a few seconds you reluctantly pulled yourself out of his grasp, zipping up the large hoodie before putting the backpack on.

Fundy let out a sigh as he patted his pockets, “Wilbur’s letting me drive you to the airport using his car.” He said as he pulled out Wilbur’s keys, showing them to you.

You nodded before you cupped his face and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you so, so, so goddamn much, Fundy.” you whispered, placing your forehead on his.

“I love you too, y/n. And the distance between us doesn’t change that in the slightest.” he whispered back, his voice slightly shook as he spoke which made your heart hurt. Slowly he pulled away from you, grabbing your hand with his as he dragged you to the door, you both slipped on your shoes and masks before heading out to the car.

The car ride to the pub Wilbur was at with Phil and Kristin was quiet, not a bad quiet but quiet nonetheless. The radio played soft classical music as Fundy carefully drove the car through the town, you can’t tell if you’re surprised by that being Wilbur’s default station or not. Once you guys got there you quickly got out of the car, telling Fundy you’ll be back soon as you ran in and told Wilbur goodbye. It wasn’t all that much, you gave him a hug and promised to text him once your plane landed to let him know you were safe. You quickly said hi to Phil and Kristin, apologizing that you couldn’t stay longer, which they brushed off, saying that there’ll always be another time.

By the time you and Fundy were finally on your way to the airport it was a quarter past seven, the drive there was viscerally different than the drive to say bye to Wilbur. He drove with one hand, his free one resting carefully in your’s as he rubbed the back of it with his thumb. The silence was almost oppressive as you sat there but neither of you knew what to say, so you both stayed quiet. The silence stretched on into the airport, it was odd but somehow fitting. It was the first time neither of you could really bring yourself to break the silence.

Fundy eventually did, though. After you had made it through security, you two sat down on the benches waiting for them to call your flight number. It started with a laugh, a sad one, followed by a quiet apology, “I’m sorry I haven’t said anything y/n…” He basically said to himself, you’re pretty sure if you had even an ounce less of self control you’d start crying right then.

Carefully, you cupped his face, a sad smile in your eyes, “Don’t worry love. Trust me, I understand.” you replied as you rubbed your thumbs over his cheek bones. He silently nodded, wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you close. You moved your hands from his face and wrapped your arms around his neck, “It’ll be fine, just like Phil said to me in the pub today, ‘there’ll always be another time.’ I’ll visit again when this is all over, next time for longer.” You promise him, voice hushed so that only you two can hear it.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, next time.” he said, it was so soft, as if he said it too loud something would curse against it. The two of you sat like that for a few minutes, enjoying the last time you’d hold each other for at least a long while. All too soon they called for your plane and reluctantly you pulled away from him. Quickly he pulled down his mask, looking at you for a long second before you do the same, softly he connected your lips, it was a slow and desperate kiss. One that knew you had to leave but so strongly wish you didn’t that you could have mistaken it for tangible.

When you pull apart, you smile at him, pressing a light kiss on his cheek before standing up, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” you ask, fixing your mask.

He nodded, probably much more aggressively than he meant to, “Yeah, definitely.”

#dream smp x reader #dreamsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #fundy x reader #fluff #im so sorry this took so long #my brain just said no <3 and decided i was going to hyperfocus on every other hobby i have #I hope a 11k fic makes up for it #< that tag causes me so much pain bc it said 5k then 7k THEN 10K AND. [head in hands]#oooo you wanna tell me what you thought about this so bad oooooo you wanna give me so much validation /hj

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