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artificialqueens · 4 years

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If We Walk Down This Road, 1/2 (Scyvie) - Ashley

It’s the final year of sixth form and stress levels are high for Yvie as she balances school work, Uni applications and her “part-time” job in a kids activity centre. However, things only get worse when her boss decides to hire his privately educated, definition of privilege daughter, Scarlet, as their marketing assistant and she rubs Yvie up the completely wrong way. Until, of course, she doesn’t.

Here goes a very late submission to the black girl magic fic! Hope you guys like it! This is a prequel of some sorts to my fics Got My Number and Girl on Fire but it works fine as a standalone so you don’t have to have read those to understand anything. Big thanks to @pink-grapefruit-cafe and @artificialortega for all the help, love and support with this fic.

Yvie loved her life. She wouldn’t have changed a piece of it for the world. Only, every now and then, she longed to be someone else.

This feeling usually arrived when making her way through the industrial estate, hearing the loud Kidz Bop music they were forced to play at her work ring in her ears before the building was even in sight. In fact, that feeling arrived every single time she walked towards her work, it was just something she had become accustomed to. It wasn’t the worst job in the world, she got to hang out with Jaida, Heidi and Priyanka on the weekends and the pay wasn’t awful. She just sometimes wished that after a long, frustrating day of writing essays she could stay on the bus until she arrived home, take a nice shower and do her homework with the telly on instead of hopping off after just six stops to put on a fake smile for a few hours and pray that no one was sick in the soft play area.

And on what seemed like the dullest Friday since she had started her job there, God (who she didn’t really believe in but had no one else to make the prayer to) decided that it most certainly wasn’t her night because a grand total of three kids were sick in the soft play instead of just the usual one.

So worth the twenty pounds she’d end off earning. So, so worth it.

Ready to throw her gloves in the bin, wash her hands at least four times and spend the rest of the night lurking at the back of the cafe until it was time to close, Yvie was stopped in her tracks when she returned back to her spot. Her spot that was currently occupied by a thin, unfamiliar red-head.

Pale legs poking out of a plaid skirt that reeked of prefects and lacrosse games, she stood out like a sore thumb against the bright yellow hoodies that made up their uniform (Yvie’s slightly stained with bleach and too short for her gangly arms). Yvie watched in silence for a second as the girl burrowed through the fridge, hearing a big, dramatic sigh of relief escape her red lips as she laid eyes on a Coke Zero.

“Can I help you?” Yvie asked.

Only it wasn’t really a question, Yvie using her level ten voice that was usually only saved for people who tried to push in the queue for the toilet on nights out or for idiots who answered easy questions wrong on Pointless when she watched it at Nina’s house. Annoying customers were normally only confronted with a mid-range level of anger on Yvie’s behalf, passive-aggressive rather than completely pissed off. As much as forever feeling the need to call out people in the wrong irked her, Yvie knew that she shouldn’t do that at work, leaving it for at home where the threat of being fired didn’t loom over her shoulder like the grim reaper’s scythe.

Something about this girl just threw that out into the window and sent it flying down the motorway at rapid speed, Yvie’s patience nowhere to be seen.

“Sorry.” The girl giggled. Actually giggled. “Took me forever to find the sugar free!”

“Normally you’d wait to be served it.” Yvie shot imaginary laser beams with her eyes. “At the other side of the counter.”

Yvie watched the girl pause, a coy grin on her face as her eyes danced between Yvie’s face and her own reflection in the clean glass.

“It’s a shame there was no one there to serve me!” She unscrewed the lid from the bottle, taking a swig and aaahing in delight as though it were the nectars of Greek gods.

Her voice was posh.

Not tea and crumpets, let’s-go-shoot-some-clay-pigeons posh but still posh nonetheless. She pronounced the Ts in her words in a way that neither Yvie nor any of her friends did and Yvie knew that if she wasn’t so furious she would have found it sexy.

She was always a sucker for a posh voice.

“Well, if you’d have waited two minutes then I would have been here,” Yvie replied, letting her nails squish into the palms of her own hands - a self-control mechanism that didn’t tend to work when your nails were bitten down to stumps like Yvie’s currently were (something she liked to attribute to the stress of her A-Levels despite it being a habit she’d formed as a kid).

It was safe to say she didn’t feel relieved.

Especially when the familiar lull of the owner’s voice boomed behind her. How perfectly convenient.

“Yvie!”

Normally Yvie would be relieved to realise he’d actually gotten her name right but her mind was full of other thoughts - supermodel shaped thoughts with blue eyes that were probably going to get her murdered.

At least she’d taken the rubber gloves off before she met her untimely end, she thought to herself, pulling the biggest ‘I’m sorry, I should be more attentive’ smile she could muster as she turned to face her boss.

“I see you’ve met my daughter!” He motioned to the girl.

His daughter, of course.

“Yes,” Yvie stammered, her cheeks red at the mistake she’d made.

The girl, her boss’ daughter, instead seemed nothing but amused.

“Scarlet’s here to help with our marketing; gotta make sure that personal statement is in tip-top shape ready for applications!”

Yvie felt his words crawl under her skin, the itch of casual nepotism. Casual nepotism that would probably land people like Yvie without a Uni offer. She never liked to think of herself as bitter when these situations arose, but this time she couldn’t deny that she was at least a little tart. After all, Yvie was pretty adamant that any Russell Group would favour the privately educated white girl who had marketing experience with a local business over the one who cleaned the toddler’s sick from the ball pit.

It really was as simple as that.

Yvie didn’t know if Scarlet failed to sense her discomfort or simply ignored it anyway as she moved over and held out her hand.

Yvie couldn’t remember the last time she had actually shaken someone’s hand but obliged nonetheless. Scarlet’s eyes narrowed slightly when Yvie met them, her face concentrated like she was about to be quizzed on Yvie’s appearance. Realising she hadn’t blinked since their hands met, Yvie pulled away quickly, the brightness of the centre snapping back into focus around her.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then.” Scarlet took an extra big swig of the bottle before tossing it in the bin and leaving the cafe with her Dad.

And she wasn’t wrong. Indeed, Yvie found herself “seeing Scarlet around” on every single shift she was on the rota for. For an entire three weeks. Without fail.

She was starting to think the phrase, ‘bane of my life’ was an understatement for how she felt about the girl.

It’d started small, Yvie finding herself rolling her eyes whenever Scarlet came into the cafe for a drink. But soon Yvie started to believe that Scarlet didn’t just live in a different part of town but in a whole other fantasy that the rest of the staff were foreign to, parading past the trampolines once every hour as if the carpet were the runway at Paris Fashion Week.

“Do you think someone needs to tell her she’s not actually a real princess?” Yvie spoke into the walkie talkie, exchanging glances between Scarlet and her friend.

“Leave her be! She’s just playing with the kids, you witch,” Jaida responded from the opposite end of the park. “Stop being so cynical.”

Yvie was grateful for her work friends. Although she loved Nina and Brooke with every piece of her often cold, dead heart, it was nice to have found girls more like her at work. Girls who understood how it felt when her school told her she wasn’t allowed any “extreme” hairstyles and she had to take out her braids. Girls who also got told they were too confident, sometimes arrogant when all they were doing was being proud of themselves. Girls a little bit older and wiser (not that she’d ever admitted that she found them wise) who helped her love her skin just that little bit more than she already did.

“Yeah but she’s probably getting paid double what we are to swan about like that!”

Yvie raised her hands in the air to Jaida but didn’t get a chance to hear her response, turning the volume down to zero when she saw Scarlet making her way towards her.

“Hey, doll.” Scarlet plonked a notebook down on the counter in front of Yvie, a big grin of optimism filling the lower half of her face.

Her hair was down that day, soft ginger curls falling in front of her chest. Yvie had a sudden urge to push a strand back and tuck it behind her ear.

Why did the most annoying girl on the planet have such flawless bone structure? It simply wasn’t fair.

“Hello,” Yvie responded rather formally, reaching to grab Scarlet’s usual order. The faster she did so, the faster she walked away - so Yvie may or may not have been keeping a couple of Coke Zeros in the special fridge under the counter that was saved only for open milk bottles, just so she could serve Scarlet with the utmost efficiency.

A part of her just wished she would serve herself again.

“Oh no.” She shook her head, reaching out to touch Yvie’s arm and stop her. Yvie could hardly feel her hand through the thick hoodie, yet her heart still decided it wanted to start sprinting in the middle of the leisurely stroll it was taking before Scarlet had come over. Maybe she had to add the human anatomy to the list of things she’d decided she hated that week, right underneath her new English teacher and egg mayonnaise sandwiches. Her stupid, fat heart.

“I’m here for your interview!”

“Interview?” Yvie raised a brow and chuckled to herself. She wondered if Scarlet had ever actually had to be interviewed for anything in her life nevermind conduct one.

“For Instagram! I’m posting little profiles of all the staff, a little get to know me! It’ll help the youngsters really see what a family we are here!”

Yet another thing Yvie hated was how Scarlet always managed to talk like an edgy teenager and a middle-aged woman at the same time, figuring that was the first and last time she’d hear an eighteen-year-old refer to kids as “youngsters”. Or at least she said she hated it in one of the many Scarlet-included rants she’d had to Heidi the weekend before; she may have actually loved it. The two feelings were often blurred in Yvie’s brain, hard to tell one from the other in her web of brutal honesty and blunt opinions. She was ninety-nine per cent sure she hated it.

“I’ll get someone to cover your station and we can go natter in the staff room.” Scarlet took her lack of words as acceptance and turned on the spot.

Maybe Yvie was only eighty per cent sure.

Yvie had never seen Scarlet in the staff room before, watching most days as the girl took her snacks outside where she ate alone in her car. So it was strange to be cramped on the small sofa with her, both of them staring at the mirror in front rather than at each other. The smell of a ready-made curry that had been left in the microwave for too long that day was lingering warm in the air. Yvie took a deep breath and held it, scared that if she released it her body would touch Scarlet’s just that inch too much and then the entire world around them would explode around them, kind of like the curry.

“So, what’s your favourite snack from the cafe?” Scarlet held a fountain pen in her hand, ready to write. Yvie didn’t need to look at the notepad to know her handwriting was beautiful, a piece of art next to her own illegible scrawls.

“I don’t buy food here,” Yvie responded nonchalantly.

Scarlet popped the end of the pen in her mouth for a moment then let it rest back at the paper.

“You’ve never eaten anything here?” Scarlet questioned, clearly dissatisfied with Yvie’s answer.

“Nope. It’s far too expensive. I just buy my lunch at the off-license before I get the bus.”

“You know what I want you to say!” Scarlet whined. Yvie thought she would do great as a soap actress if the whole marketing thing never worked out for her. She had that dramatic flare mastered down to a tee. And the charming voice to match.

“I’m being honest.” Yvie half-chuckled. “I’m not a liar.”

“Well, I’m just gonna write cheesy nachos then!” Scarlet was trying her hardest to act serious but Yvie just about caught the quiver of her lip.

She wondered if Scarlet somehow knew about her love for cheesy nachos or if it was simply a wild coincidence, either way, she carried on to battle through the questions with Scarlet, praying that there weren’t many to go.

“Which party room is your favourite?” Scarlet still hadn’t lost her enthusiasm, despite having to write down three sarcastic answers as if they were genuine and completely make up new answers for another two so far.

“The volcano room. Normally older kids hire that out and they don’t make as much of a mess as the toddlers in the mermaid or the pirate one.”

Scarlet didn’t even bother to respond to that one, simply shaking her head at Yvie’s response.

“If you don’t like my honesty…” Yvie started, desperate to get back to the comfort of the park where she could swap spots with Jaida for an hour and bask in the comfort of the ball pit.

“I actually find it quite refreshing.” Scarlet gave an all-knowing smile.

Sometimes Yvie got scared that the girl was part-wizard and could see inside of her soul. After all, she knew which school Scarlet attended and she wouldn’t be shocked one bit if it was revealed to be some modern-day incarnation of Hogwarts (then again Yvie did kind of think that about any school with a tuition fee or Latin slogan, so she didn’t know how strongly her argument would stand).

“That’s weird,” she blurted back, unable to think of something quick and witty to say. Where was Brooke with her encyclopedia of shady comebacks when she needed her? Tempted to text her some form of a rant about the interview/ambush she decided against it, knowing Brooke had planned to spend the day with her new “almost-girlfriend” that she had picked up from the literal curb earlier that month.

“You’re weird.” Scarlet stood up, giving Yvie that smile yet again. Yvie knew it so well now that she should have been able to draw it by memory only she knew it would never be captured just right. Not even with all the pencils and canvases and colours that the rainbow had to offer.

She didn’t even try to come up with a comeback to that one.

“Now for the photoshoot!” Scarlet grinned, opening the door for the pair of them.

“Photoshoot?” Yvie’s head whipped around and fired red laser-beams at the girl from her eyes. There had been absolutely no mention of a photoshoot.

“Follow me, my muse.”

***

“Are you doing homework?” Scarlet craned her neck, making out Yvie’s hunched over figure behind the big coffee machine.

“Sorry.” Yvie stood up straight and made her way to the front of the counter, her brown eyes a little droopy compared to normal. Scarlet knew Yvie always played the ‘I hate my life and don’t want to be here’ game at work regularly, but this time was different.

If she were anyone else in the world Scarlet would have pulled her into a great big cuddle. But she wasn’t. She was Yvie. And Yvie hated her.

Most of the time Scarlet didn’t mind that Yvie hated her, she found it quite amusing winding her up and seeing her face scrunch up in frustration. She knew that her confidence didn’t always rub well with people but she’d always told herself that anyone who didn’t want to live in that world with her was simply missing out. Only sometimes she wished things were a bit different at the centre.

She guessed it was one of those days.

“No need to say sorry to me, I’m not paying you!” Scarlet made her way around the back of the cafe and entered. This was something she’d withheld from doing whenever Yvie was stationed there, after their first Coke Zero incident (which she, for the record, actually found quite funny), but the urge simply pulled her and when the urge took control, Scarlet’s will power was nowhere to be seen.

“Is this History?” Scarlet held the papers close to her face. She’d never suited her glasses and had made the executive decision not to wear them around the centre. This was probably some sort of safety hazard considering the fact there were kids jumping around left, right and centre that she was supposed to be constantly observing, but she simply pretended this thought had never even crossed her little air-head brain. Scarlet knew that it never hurt to look good. After all, you never know who could be sneaking glances at you through the gaps in the slush machines.

Scarlet knew exactly who was sneaking glances at her through the gaps in the slush machines. The constant squinting was worth it.

“I really am sorry. I’ve just been really busy and I’m trying to get all my references for Uni but-” Yvie started but stopped to serve a customer. Scarlet heard her voice waver slightly when she asked if she wanted a medium or large. It broke her heart into a thousand little pieces.

“Is it due soon?” Scarlet flicked through the questions. “I did this last term. My file is in my boot if you want me to get some notes out?”

“I don’t need your help.” Yvie took the papers from out of her hands and placed them back on the counter.

Scarlet knew that behind her constantly on-guard exterior there was a girl who just wanted to relax for a second and have fun. She caught her sometimes. Like the time Heidi queued the entirety of the Hercules soundtrack on their iPod and Yvie complained over the walkie talkie yet Scarlet saw her dancing to the songs in the back of the cafe when she thought no one could see (she may or may not have added I Won’t Say I’m In Love to her playlist that night). Or when Jaida fell into the big airbag and shouted at everyone to look away and Yvie released one of her big hearty laughs that managed to surprise Scarlet every time she heard it. She’d always try to catch Yvie’s face when the girls played their own version of Russian roulette with the bottles of cleaning spray that they thought no one else knew about, closing their eyes and spinning the nozzles then stopping to spray - Yvie dying with laughter every time the liquid spat on her jumper.

“If you’re stressed, I can help. You’re applying to somewhere really good aren’t you?”

“You don’t know everything, Scarlet. I told you already that I don’t need your help, I don’t need your special private school notes or whatever it is you pay to get taught.”

It stung. Those weren’t Scarlet’s intentions at all. But she knew how they must have come across.

“That’s okay.” She grabbed some cans of pop from the back and started to stack the fridge. “Just letting you know that the staff room is really dirty and someone needs to clean it.”

“What?” Yvie turned to face her. “Pri cleaned it yesterday.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to clean it again.” Scarlet made a point of looking at the camera in the corner that she knew her dad would glance at from his office every half an hour. “I’ll watch the cafe while you do it. And take those papers with you.”

“Do you even know how to make a coffee?” Yvie caught on, grabbing her notes and a roll of cloth for show.

“Oh my god. Yes, I go to private school but I’m not Paris Hilton! I can watch the cafe for half an hour.”

“Sorry.” Yvie smiled as she left. “And thank you. Really, thank you.”

And Scarlet felt that thank you deep in her bones, one she’d keep saved somewhere to replay on a day when she felt lonely. Only she began to think that Yvie should’ve taken the thank you back when she realised that she should have absolutely not been trusted to watch the cafe for half an hour.

Scarlet knew she wasn’t the best “employee” they had, spending most of her days taking photos, making social media posts and chatting with the little ones when they were done playing. But she didn’t know how quite bad she was until she had burned two toasties, overcharged at least five customers and accidentally poured one woman’s change into her cup of tea instead of her hand.

Maybe she should stick to Instagram.

She tried her hardest to help, cleaning the toastie machine as best as she could before Yvie returned but she knew that she had messed things up, creating more jobs on top of the ones Yvie already had to do when closing the cafe.

“Are you nearly done?” Scarlet heard her Dad ask Yvie later on as he prepared to lock up for the night.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to cash up the till. There are a few discrepancies I need to try and fix.” Yvie didn’t even look up from the tablet, punching numbers into the digital counter with frustration.

“I’ve got my car.” Scarlet blurted before she knew what she was saying. “I’ll help Yvie and lock up here when she’s done. Get yourself away, Dad.”

Scarlet looked at her phone, full of notifications from the girls’ chat: Naomi telling everyone what booze she was going to bring, Plastique asking what they were all wearing, Pearl waking up from the longest of naps to tell everyone she’d be an hour late. She didn’t read them all properly, sending a quick message before popping her phone back in her pocket:

‘I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait on me xx’

It was the least she could have done.

They were silent for a while, the two of them all alone in the big airy building, the main lights switched off with only the small ones at the top of the cafe kiosk to help them see.

Scarlet did her best to help, double-checking Yvie had counted the piles of coins properly whilst she fiddled around the tablet. She figured that maybe silence was better for them, she couldn’t annoy Yvie with her dramatic exclamations and Yvie wouldn’t bombard her with unsought “honest opinions”.

Until that silence was broken with a bang, echoing through the darkness and causing Scarlet’s entire body to leap out of her skin.

Yvie didn’t even quiver.

“What the fuck was that?” She asked Scarlet, her thick eyebrows raised as she peered towards the soft play.

“That doesn’t normally happen?” Images of axe-wielding lunatics stowed away inside the slides flashed through Scarlet’s mind.

“Funnily enough, it doesn’t,” Yvie responded, still as sarcastic as ever in times of panic. “Put your phone light on.”

Scarlet didn’t really want to go and inspect the noise but she also didn’t want to wait in the cafe alone. She knew she was the perfect damsel in distress, axe murders would love her! Trying her best not to be a baby, she followed by Yvie’s side with her phone light guiding their path.

“What if there’s a bomb?” Scarlet placed a hand on her chest and felt Yvie stop next to her. “One of those ones with a remote control that detonates it!”

“You think someone planted a bomb in our play area? And waited to detonate it when no one was around other than me and you?” Scarlet knew Yvie was rolling her eyes as she spoke despite not being able to see her. “I honestly don’t understand how your brain works sometimes.”

“You love me really,” Scarlet responded without thought as they turned another corner. It was an automatic response she often used to her friends when they made fun of her, it felt weird saying it to Yvie. With anyone else, she would have brushed it off, but with Yvie it was different.

And then Yvie gasped.

Before Scarlet knew it her hand was in the other girl’s. It was automatic. She got a shock and Yvie was there. A patch of her hand turned cool where Yvie’s ring pressed against it.

“What was it?” She asked a second later, her brain too caught up with why her hand was gripping tightly onto Yvie’s hand and why Yvie hadn’t pushed her off to actually know what Yvie had reacted to.

“Nothing.” The hearty laugh came back. It was almost comforting in the darkness. “Just wanted to see how you reacted.”

‘Well there you go,’ Scarlet thought to herself as she looked down to their hands, not quite brave enough to say it out loud.

And then Yvie started to laugh, a noise Scarlet would never ever get used to.

“There’s your bomb.” Her hand slipped out of Scarlet’s and pointed in front of them, the remnants of a big silver helium balloon on the floor. “Good job I was here to protect you from that.”

Before she knew it they were back at the till, fixing each of Scarlet’s mistakes and counting out their float for the next day. They worked relatively well together, only managing to butt heads once more when Scarlet suggested they write out a whole new balance sheet instead of scribbling out a mistake and writing the new number next to it as Yvie wanted. She let it go in the end, her phone vibrating in her pocket with texts from the girls a constant reminder that she had a little red dress with her name on it waiting at home.

“Guess I’ll see you later,” Yvie murmured as they left the building, pacing down the road as Scarlet fumbled with the keys. She was a racehorse in the rain, taking her steps twice as fast as the average human as if the building was on fire.

“Where are you going?” Scarlet had to shout after her, half expecting Yvie to ignore her and keep walking anyway.

“Home?” She stopped up the road for a second and turned around. “Now if you don’t mind I have a bus I’m about to miss.”

About to insist she got in the car, Yvie was already far in the distance, slipping out of Scarlet’s vision in the rain by the time the doors were fully locked. Maybe wearing her glasses would have been useful after all.

Cringing as the puddles splashed up her legs, Scarlet ran to her car as fast as she could, throwing her phone onto the passenger seat and taking off down the road. Thankfully it didn’t take her long to catch Yvie, her dark hair poking out through her hoodie and already scraggly with rain.

“Hey!” She pulled up into the bus stop. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

“What are you a stalker?” Yvie raised her arms in the air. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You’re going to freeze.”

“The bus will be here any minute.”

Scarlet knew she should have just given in and turned around but she felt the guilt for their late departure weighing on her shoulders.

“Look Yvie-” Scarlet started but was cut off by a loud beeping behind her, just making out an angry bus driver in her rearview mirror.

“Move or it’ll drive past!” Yvie cried at her, the usual monotone of her voice rising in pitch.

“Sorry, what was that?” Scarlet attempted some humour, grinning from ear to ear as the bus pulled away. “Oops! Guess you’ll just have to have a nice warm lift instead of getting the bus with a load of drunkards.”

Yvie didn’t speak at first, simply pulling the car door open and plonking herself down, arms folded like a huffy toddler. But as Scarlet began to follow the directions she gave it was almost as if the other girl couldn’t help herself from falling back into their usual rapport of snide remarks and winding each other up.

“So do you always kidnap people in your Fiat 500 or is this something new for you?”

If this were any other member of staff, Scarlet knew she’d call them ungrateful but it was almost like her brain had learned a new language with Yvie, acknowledging and adapting to the different way she showed her emotions.

“You’re welcome.” Scarlet turned the heating up a notch, hearing the chatter of Yvie’s teeth between words. “And this isn’t even a Fiat 500.”

“Apologies,” Yvie responded. She was the difference between rudeness and bluntness that Scarlet figured many people couldn’t see, always honest and unbashful but never actually impolite.

Scarlet’s phone rang three times on their way to Yvie’s house and she didn’t even try to answer.

“Thanks for the lift,” Yvie whispered as Scarlet pulled up to the curb, the lights all turned off in the semi-detached next to them. “Even if you did leave me no other choice.”

Scarlet released a sigh and smiled at the return of the girl’s cynical side.

“There’s the Yvie, I know. Thought I’d lost you, being nice to me for a second!”

“Yeah well, you caught me on an off day.” She gathered her things and opened the door. “Don’t go telling anyone I went soft on you, I have a reputation to uphold.”

And she was up the path before Scarlet could think of a response, leaving her a baffling mess of feelings who couldn’t help but hear a certain laugh bouncing around inside the car even when she turned the music up loud and tried to distract herself from Yvie.

A distraction technique she had to use after every shift for a month.

Scarlet had never planned for the lifts to become part of her routine, it just sort of happened. She told herself that she wouldn’t have let one of the girls from school or her younger sister ever wait in the rain for the bus so it was common sense not to let Yvie do that either. After a little while of Scarlet ranting about how it was safer and faster for Yvie to go home with her instead of catching the bus every time they left work together, Yvie stopped trying to argue and simply started hopping in the passenger seat. Of course, she did this in the most classic of Yvie fashions and told Scarlet she was only agreeing so she didn’t have to listen to her whiney speeches about the dangers of the dark every night but it made Scarlet feel better still. Even if she did receive an average of three sarcastic responses to her comments each time.

Slowly but surely, the eggshell around Yvie began to peel away. Scarlet discovered through blunt replies Yvie loved learning about international relations and global conflict, that she wanted to go to Uni to study them despite the high offer and the money that went with the dream. Despite the fact that only one per cent of the campus she wanted to be a part of was black. Ignoring that her teacher had told her to play things safer.

Yvie was real and passionate and thriving and everything Scarlet admired.

Yes, she was still the same sarcastic self she always was behind the cafe counter but she was even more than that underneath the fluorescent lights in Scarlet’s car. A small chunk of the divide between them had been left at the bus stop in the rain while they basked in the warm air shooting out of the vents.

Scarlet was hesitant to call Yvie a friend, they didn’t really chat and gossip - as she did with Plastique, Naomi and Pearl - and when they did at least half of their conversation was made up of insults but Scarlet liked it. Yvie was a refreshing change from the girls she was surrounded with every day at school and Scarlet wanted to drink that in as much as she could. Even if Yvie did still hate her.

In fact, Yvie had started to use those exact words as a regular comeback to Scarlet’s dramatics, rolling her eyes to match.

“Would you hate me if we stop for food before I drop you off?” Scarlet asked one night. “I’m honestly starved.”

“I already hate you, don’t think food would change that.” Yvie laughed.

That fucking laugh.

Scarlet hoped she only-half meant it. But she never really knew for sure.

Making their way into the food chain, Scarlet’s mind was too consumed with the thought of what she was going to order to even realise that her friends were there until she heard her name.

“Hey, sweets.” Naomi smiled from the table. “I thought you were at your Dad’s work?”

“We were just on the way home and I got hungry.” Scarlet motioned to Yvie, stood almost a step behind her.

“Who’s this?” Plastique asked, raising a perfectly shaped brow.

Opening her mouth to speak, Scarlet’s brain went blank for a second. She obviously wanted to tell the girls about Yvie but never knew what to say, she didn’t even know what they were herself nevermind having to explain it to them.

How do you say, ‘this girl works for my Dad and I drive her home every night whilst we listen to Lady Gaga in almost complete silence except for when she insults me because she maybe hates me or I try to get on her nerves because I maybe fancy her,’ in a clear and concise way?

“Erm, this is…” She tried to start but was stopped by Yvie herself.

“I’ll go order our food.”

“Oh,” Scarlet turned, pulling her purse from her pocket. “Here let me pay.”

“It’s fine.” Yvie turned her back. “I guess I owe you a lot of petrol money anyway.”

Her words struck Scarlet a little different. They lacked any emotion, spoken from dead eyes and a stern face. She relived those words a lot in the next few weeks, popping into her head again at the most random of times. For they were the last words she heard Yvie speak for a while, ignoring any effort Scarlet made to chat, even when she gave her perfect opportunities to poke fun at her like bringing up her house team at school or her sister’s upcoming dance recital (Scarlet knew how much humour Yvie found in the fact that their names were just stupid ways of saying red and yellow and normally laughed whenever Scarlet even mentioned Lemon).

“I won’t be able to give you a lift home next week.” She’d told her as they pulled up to Yvie’s house, ready to explain that Pearl had bought them tickets to a theatre show and it started too early. But Yvie hopped out of the car before she could even finish, leaving Scarlet with even more confusion about how the girl felt.

Because Yvie was still Yvie after all. And Scarlet realised after that particular journey that it would take a lot more than a few rides home to get them anywhere close to being classed as friends.

An observation in Scarlet’s mind that only grew stronger over the weeks following, especially when she decided it would be okay to join everyone on one of their regular staff nights out. A decision tinged with regret as soon as she entered the pub.

“Dress was a big mistake!!!! Huge !!! xx” Scarlet texted her teenage sister aggressively from under the table as if it would somehow fix her situation.

Excited to hit the town with everyone from the centre, she’d spent all day getting prepped and ready, letting Lemon paint her nails as they pondered over what she should wear. Eventually, they’d settled on a shimmery gold Oh Polly number she’d worn to Naomi’s birthday the year prior, her jewellery matching just right.

Only that didn’t matter once she arrived, riving her necklace from her throat as soon as she saw the rest of the staff. With all the other girls in bodysuits and trainers, she was the definition of overdressed and out of place.

It started small at first, hearing someone whisper something including the word “Daddy” as she made her way to the tables, one of the girls from the front desk asking her if she was gonna be getting the rounds in all night.

“Scarlet, come sit here!” Heidi had waved at her over, allowing for a second to catch her breath.

Only her nerves didn’t go away once she joined their booth. In fact, they only grew larger when she caught Yvie’s gaze, her eyes wide at Scarlet in a face she’d never quite seen the girl make before. She’d fought hard to ignore it, but her eyes couldn’t stop from glancing back every few seconds, wondering what it was exactly that Yvie’s face was speaking into the universe around them.

Knowing Yvie it was probably something along the lines of ‘What the fuck is the primadonna doing here in that dress’ but she didn’t know for sure, trying her best to join in their conversation and catch the familiar side of the other girl she’d caught glimpses of over the past few months.

“So, whose ID are you using?” Scarlet asked her in an effort to make conversation, having learnt from the walkie talkies that Heidi was usually Yvie’s go-to girl when she went out with her other friends, despite them looking nothing alike.

“Here.” Yvie slid it across the table for Scarlet to examine, the other girls in the booth taking a look too.

“I know her!” Jaida exclaimed. “Chile, I did her prom makeup a couple years ago.”

“Perks of Brooke’s new girlfriend. I now have black friends that aren’t you guys I can borrow ID from. Not the best though, it’s a good job they never actually look properly.”

“Wait.” Priyanka raised two hands in the air. “You’re telling me that your gal Brooke has an official girlfriend? I thought they were just fucking about, damn!”

“Oh, not this again!” Heidi joined in. “We get it, Pri. You got together once and she didn’t remember your name. Move on!”

Scarlet checked her phone to see if her sister had replied but saw nothing, resorting to scrolling through her own photo album and reshuffling her apps so she didn’t look left out. Listening to the girls continue to gossip about people she didn’t know, Scarlet began to question the friendships she’d made at the centre, little voices in her head telling her that none of them would ever like her enough to open up and gossip with her as they did with one another.

For as long as she remembered she had always been confident, never caring what others thought of her. But as she started to gulp her drink down faster than normal, Scarlet felt that confidence slip away more and more. She was so far out of her comfort zone she couldn’t have made it back on a giant jet plane at full speed. And Yvie’s big brown eyes taking stolen glances at her didn’t make any of it better.

“It’s okay, Pri.” Jaida’s voice pulled Scarlet back into their conversation. “At least Yvie remembered your name when you two got with each other!”

“Oh, fuck off!” Yvie slammed her glass onto the table at the same time Scarlet spat some of her drink back into her own.

What an elegant lady she was.

She’d always just assumed that Yvie was into girls too. There was just something about hearing it for real that made Scarlet’s central nervous system stop working for a second, starting again with a scare.

“That was one time,” Priyanka cried from the opposite side of the booth, thankfully oblivious of Scarlet’s reaction.

Only someone wasn’t as oblivious. Someone was looking right at her and sending every thought, every feeling, every fear inside of Scarlet into overdrive.

***

Yvie wasn’t a stranger to awful dancing. After all, she had been friends with Nina for the majority of life, the girl whose feet were built of hard oak and desperation.

But this was something different altogether.

Watching Scarlet across the dance floor, the phrase ‘Bambi on ice’ brought a whole new meaning to Yvie. If she wasn’t so mad at her she’d go over herself, give the girl a twirl and watch as she missed every beat like she had no cares in the world. Only that wasn’t the case, because mad Yvie certainly was.

Yvie didn’t know why she felt so hurt, it wasn’t like they were friends? It wasn’t like she even liked Scarlet? But something about having to stand there while she scrambled for an explanation of who she was to her privately educated, life’s not fair, acrylic nailed girl gang made Yvie’s blood boil. And she’d never admitted it but she may have even shed a tear or two once her blinds were shut and she couldn’t see the not-Fiat 500 and the annoying girl who drove it.

To think she’d started to believe that she was only fifty-five per cent sure of her hatred.

“Staring much?” She could hear the raise of Heidi’s brow in her words as she spoke to her ear, the loud bass around them not heavy enough to drown out the accusation in her friend’s voice.

Yvie couldn’t even deny it, for she’d been staring at Scarlet from the moment she’d walked into the pub earlier. Of course, she’d stalked the girl’s Instagram enough to know what Scarlet looked like dressed up, rolling her eyes at the dumb self-indulgent captions that were always attached to her selfies. Only it was different in person, a mix of gold and warmth and beauty and envy that made Yvie want to snap a pencil in half (she settled for a paper straw instead which certainly did not give the same level of relief). She’d watched as Scarlet ripped a necklace from her neck earlier and longed to put it back on for her, taking her time to hook it on the right loop so that it would hang perfectly above her collarbone.

She tried to fixate on the memory of Scarlet squealing every time they went over the speed bumps outside of their work to give herself the ick. Only that image had become entwined with one of Scarlet getting out the car one night to help a cat out of the road and Yvie only felt more confused.

“I’m just judging her dancing abilities,” Yvie lied.

She knew it was a lie. Heidi, who once confidently believed that Jaida had found a ghost in the dodgeball cupboard, knew it was a lie. The whole club knew it was a lie just from Yvie’s expression. Did lying count as breaking your streak of tough love and honesty if you wanted to believe you were telling the truth so badly? Is lying even lying if it’s yourself you’re lying to? Yvie didn’t know. All she knew was that red and gold looked so good together it should have been illegal. Only it was herself breaking the law when her eyes met Scarlet’s again, holding for a second before she turned to walk away.

The songs all blurred into one once Scarlet was gone, Yvie’s brain out of focus. That was until she was snapped back by a familiar squark pulling her away from her work friends.

“Hey, Yvie! Or should I say Akeria tonight?” Vanessa grinned, a loved-up Brooke with her arm around the other girl’s waist.

“Thanks again.” Yvie tapped her nose, grateful for Brooke’s new relationship and the new friends that had come with it. “I owe you a drink.”

“So where is she then?” Brooke piped up, straight to the point and not wasting time with any cordial greetings on her best friend.

“Priyanka?” Yvie squinted in confusion for a second, wondering why Brooke wanted to see a girl she had previously hooked up with and usually refused to speak about when all she’d talked about for the past few months was how excited she was every Wednesday night to eat special chicken stew and watch soap operas that she pretended to hate at Vanessa’s house.

“No!” Brooke raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes leaping to Vanessa for a split second. “Ja’mie Private School Girl. I wanna see her in person.”

“Oh.” Yvie’s brain slotted the pieces together. Had she really complained about Scarlet that much?

“Is this the girl you always ragin’ about?” Vanessa joined in.

Okay, maybe she did complain about Scarlet too much.

“I’m not sure where she’s at.” She brushed them off, the memory of Scarlet telling her she couldn’t take her home anymore after seeing her friends tinging Yvie sharply, her face starting to flush. “I’m gonna go to the loo but I’ll get you that drink later?”

“Noted.” Brooke pointed a finger, the sound of their voices carrying as Yvie ran desperately to splash her face with some cold water.

Only she never quite made it to the sink, the sight of an upset red-head stopping her as soon as she entered the toilets.

Yvie went to speak but wasn’t given a chance.

“Go away.” Scarlet’s voice wavered as she knelt down, pulling jackets out from under the couch like they were infested.

“I can’t believe you didn’t pay for the cloakroom.” Yvie joined her on the carpet. “Out of character for you.”

“I said go away.” She turned her head to Yvie, her bloodshot eyes living up to her name.

Yvie felt the sudden urge to scoop Scarlet in her arms and cradle her there till the music stopped and the lights turned off and there was no one left in the building. She felt a need she never knew existed.

“Hey. It’s alright, I can help you…”

But Scarlet had already found her jacket and started racing out of the club as though her life depended on it.

“For fuck sake, Scarlet.” Yvie reached for her arm once they were outside, the cold air penetrating through her bodysuit and making her long for the comfort of her bed at home. “Just talk to me.”

She turned, her face illuminated under the street lamps, full of anger and sadness and perhaps a tinge of pain too.

“Why do you want to talk to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t.” Yvie squeezed her arm slightly and looked her in the eyes to try and show that she meant it. Because sometimes her words failed her and she struggled to sound sincere when in her mind she was, so she had to rely on her actions. All she had at that moment was a gentle squeeze to try and show Scarlet that she meant it. She didn’t hate her. She didn’t know when that had changed or if she’d really hated her in the first place but at that moment she was one-hundred per cent certain, the feeling was nothing like hatred.

Scarlet scoffed and pulled away, tapping her phone furiously with her nails. “You tell me you hate me nearly every day I spend with you.”

Yvie tried to argue back but Scarlet was on a mission, waving her hands in the air when she spoke.

“And if you’re not doing that then you’re bitching about me through the walkie talkies. Or giving me dirty looks. I try my best to pass it off and rise above it Yvie but tonight I just can’t anymore, I just want to live and breathe without you looking at me like I’ve shot Bambi’s mother. Like what did I even do to you?”

‘Everything,’ Yvie thought only it came out as a blunt “nothing” instead. “You’re the one that was embarrassed to be seen with me in public.”

“I wasn’t embarrassed, Yvie. Sorry it took me a minute to try and think of something other than ‘a girl I drive around even though she hates me.’” Scarlet kept taking glances between the road and her phone, not meeting Yvie’s eyes. “Or doesn’t hate me, apparently. And I just had plans after our next shift.”

Without knowing what she was doing, Yvie reached out to grab her hand, slipping her fingers through Scarlet’s and clasping like they had done the day Scarlet was scared by the balloon. Scarlet was right. Maybe she was too fast to jump to conclusions. She was up in the sky leaping on the trampolines at work whilst Scarlet was grounded by the cafe, taking herself to a whole new narrative that didn’t really exist. In other words, she’d fucked it.

“I don’t hate you.” Yvie expected Scarlet to let go. She didn’t.

“Well, you don’t act like it.”

But her hand didn’t leave, Yvie had hope. Not a lot, just a slither like the piece of Scarlet’s hair that stayed in front of her face when she pushed the rest back. But it was still hope, it was still something.

“Please just let me explain.” Yvie tried to make Scarlet understand.

She’d spent years trying to dial and change how she spoke. If the black girl in the class raised her voice then she was angry but if she didn’t put up a fight with her words then nobody would take her seriously. All she wanted was to be honest, but the words were flying around her head and wouldn’t stop to land. And then Scarlet’s Uber started to pull up and they were going even faster. Scarlet turned to look at her and Yvie watched as she opened her mouth for a second but no words came out, her eyes frustrated and begging Yvie to fix things.

She waited for the rejection, for Scarlet to push her away as she moved closer, for her to call Yvie crazy and jump in the car, ready to make her time at work even more of a living hell than she already did. But as her lips met Scarlet’s, it never came.

“Your Uber.” Yvie pulled away slightly, their faces only an inch apart and Scarlet gasping for breath. She could feel Scarlet’s sticky gloss on her own lips but didn’t dare wipe at it, wanting the moment to go on like that for as long as it could.

“I guess I’ve gotten used to riding in the car with someone.” Scarlet took her hand again once the car pulled up, their eyes communicating in their own language that Yvie didn’t have the words to explain.

Yvie pulled her phone out to text the girls and tell them she’d headed home, dropping another one to home with an excuse for staying out, feeling Scarlet on her neck as they clambered into the backseat. They didn’t speak for a short while, Yvie simply placed her arm around Scarlet’s shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she hadn’t spent months terrified of making contact with her.

“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” Scarlet whispered in her ear, her hand burning hot on Yvie’s thigh.

Suddenly Scarlet’s flair for the dramatics was wiped clean from her mental list of things that irked her, replaced accordingly with the concept of clothing, more specifically jeans. Her jeans, that she regretted spending a lot of money on - wishing she’d settled for the paper-thin pair Nina had told her to get from Primark instead. In fact, she’d have paid more for the thin pair right then. Paid anything for Scarlet’s hand to live there just a little bit longer. Yvie let the back of her head hit the seat, lost in the moment until they pulled up to Scarlet’s house.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Scarlet spoke after unlocking the door. “My sister’s home.”

“Does noise even travel here?” Yvie looked around the foyer only half-joking, stopping to chuckle at a big photo of Scarlet and her sister as kids. “Adorable.”

“If you’re loud enough.” Scarlet raised a brow and motioned for Yvie to follow her upstairs, sending tingles through her body at her words.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be the one who needs to worry about keeping quiet.” Yvie let Scarlet lead her to her room, throwing themselves down on the four-poster almost immediately.

It felt weird finally being in Scarlet’s room after spending so long of interacting at work. She couldn’t say she hadn’t pictured it, often imagining Scarlet painting her toes on top of magazines or picking out her outfit each morning. Too distracted to get a proper look at all the photo frames and trinkets around, Yvie made a mental note to make a joke the next day about how she’d always assumed Scarlet had one of those grey crushed velvet headboards like the girls on Twitter.

It was crazy how something could feel so wrong and so right at the same time. Scarlet’s body pressing into her own, it was so insane yet made complete sense. She felt familiar.

Before she knew it Scarlet’s thumb was rubbing over the fabric of her bodysuit, teasing at her nipple through the lace.

Yvie had never been more grateful for her decision not to wear a bra.

“Are you sure you want this?” Scarlet asked her, pausing in her movement to look Yvie in the eyes and confirm. “We can’t go back.”

Yvie knew what she meant, thinking of all the shifts she’d have to spend with her, pinning Scarlet’s new promotional posters around the park, being watched to make sure she placed them in the exact right spots. She’d be unavoidable. But Yvie didn’t care.

“I’ve wanted this ever since you stole a Coke Zero from the cafe.”

Apparently, that was all Scarlet needed, taking the opportunity to smash her lips against Yvie’s, letting their bodies melt into each other. Again and again and again until Yvie was weak with fatigue and let her head hit the pillow one final time. Her vision blurred, she could just make out Scarlet’s figure among all of the stars as the girl switched off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed beside her. They hadn’t just shaken the earth but the whole solar system too, galaxies swirling around the room and lulling Yvie to sleep.

A sleep she’d have happily basked in forever if she hadn’t woken with a jolt the next morning, the sun beaming through the blinds to cast light on the empty side of the bed next to her.

“Morning,” Scarlet’s spoke from across the room, wearing a pair of glasses that Yvie had never seen before as she looked up from the papers at her desk. Yvie suddenly understood Scarlet’s constant examining gaze - she wasn’t scanning Yvie’s insides for error codes, just a tad bit blind.

Grabbing her phone from the bedside, a groan escaped Yvie’s mouth as she saw the time, of course, Scarlet was awake at nine in the morning after a night out. After what Yvie would estimate to be at least two hours of sex. Kind of intense sex. If it hadn’t been for Scarlet’s pretty face and messy hair then Yvie would have snatched the nearest pillow and thrown it over her head, instead, keeping an eye open to watch her whilst fighting exhaustion.

She wondered how long it would take them to address it. In the past, Yvie had never felt awkward discussing a hookup, giving a compliment or laughing it off as a drunken mishap like she had with Priyanka that time. The thought crossed her mind for a second, thinking she could make a joke about how smashed they were before ringing Brooke to take her home as fast as she could but Yvie decided against it. If Yvie was anything then Yvie was honest. And she knew what happened was not a drunken mistake. At least not on her end, she didn’t know if the same could be said for Scarlet, sat twiddling her pen around in her hand as though Yvie wasn’t lying in her bed and her gold dress wasn’t in a heap on the floor, thrown there in a moment of passion. Looking at it made her laugh, thinking of how fast she’d gone from describing Scarlet’s whining as the human equivalent of a dog whistle wit Jaida, to finding herself turned on by it. Scarlet must have noticed her looking, placing the pen down.

“I think you owe me a new zipper for that.” She pointed to the dress, raising a brow at Yvie.

“Sorry, I’ll take it to get fixed.” Yvie went to step out of bed before realising her own clothes were just as haphazardly spread as Scarlet’s.

“I’m kidding,” Scarlet smiled. “I’ll get you some joggers to borrow.”

“You own tracksuit bottoms?” Yvie fake gasped as Scarlet pulled open a drawer, surprising herself at how quickly they returned to their usual exchanges. There she was making fun of Scarlet for being all posh and dramatic, it was like nothing had changed. Except she was in Scarlet’s bed. Naked. And they’d had sex. Maybe a lot had changed.

“Oh my god, I just got it.” Scarlet pointed a finger to Yvie and let out one of her classic giggles. “That is hilarious.”

“What is?” Yvie pulled the clothes Scarlet had given her on quickly, automatically ready with her defence.

“That face you always pull at me! I honestly thought it was just your expression of pure hatred at my being but it’s not, you were eyeing me up!”

Yvie stifled a laugh at Scarlet’s hysteria, her cheeks turning the slightest bit red. “I don’t pull a face at you.”

“You so do. Like this.” Scarlet did her best to impersonate her.

“I don’t do that. And I don’t eye you up either, you’re so annoying.”

“Want me to prove you do?” Scarlet flipped the conversation and caught Yvie off guard.

She hadn’t expected round two to come at all nevermind that fast, but she most certainly wasn’t mad at it.

The same could have also been said for round three, which happened around a week later when Yvie just so happened to take her lunch break at the same time as Scarlet, following her out to her car and letting Scarlet drive a couple of minutes to somewhere more secluded. The sun beamed down through the windscreen and glistened on Scarlet’s pale skin as they moved together rapidly, the pair already becoming familiar with the little easter eggs that made each other tick.

“Ten minutes to spare, wow.” Yvie checked the time on her phone, allowing herself to lie back in as much comfort as she could given that she was in the back of a rather tiny car with a rather tall girl by her side.

“What are we doing?” Scarlet sat up, hitting her head slightly on the roof but not acknowledging it, a trait Yvie had picked up on before having watched Scarlet’s clumsy legs take many tumbles around the centre only for her to keep walking like it hadn’t happened (Yvie always found this funnier than the fall itself, especially that one time it was a running child that sent Scarlet tumbling, utterly priceless).

“Erm, lying in the back of your car trying to remember how to breathe?” Yvie knew it wasn’t the answer she was looking for but gave it nonetheless.

“No. This, us. What is this?”

Yvie wished she knew the answer. At first, she didn’t know how to approach her, bringing the borrowed clothes to work in a carrier bag ready to return, only to be left silent once Scarlet came to the counter to fulfil her caffeine addiction that day. But Scarlet managed to break the ice, making a subtle joke about her lack of regret as she took the bottle from Yvie’s hand. It was bittersweet - Yvie knew there was a clear distinction between having no regrets and wanting to do something again, and she was at least seventy per cent sure she wanted to do it again. Ninety-nine once the opportunity had finally risen again, Scarlet dangling her car keys in front of Yvie like the forbidden fruit of Eden. An apple she couldn’t help but take a bite from, no matter how much it would bite her back later.

So Yvie thought about her answer, she didn’t want to get this one wrong. The natural answer was that they were friends, only Yvie knew they weren’t. They were less than friends, they didn’t chat and gossip like friends and frankly she couldn’t stand Scarlet most of the time, the chatting and gossiping with her actual friends at work usually revolving around that fact. Yet they were also so much more, Yvie’s eyes followed the girl wherever she went like she was being guided home and her heart had just about snapped in two when she saw Scarlet upset.

Maybe it wasn’t Scarlet she hated but instead the way she felt about her. Or the way she didn’t even understand what that feeling was. Perhaps that is what she’d hated all along.

“I don’t know.” Yvie stepped outside to straighten her uniform and move to the passenger seat.

“You don’t know?” Scarlet joined her in the front, slamming her door a tad too hard once her foot was inside. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“Well, do you?” Yvie retaliated.

“I’m the one who asked in the first place!”

As much as she wanted to, Yvie couldn’t deny she had a point there.

“Well whatever it is, I’m glad to see we disagree on it already,” Yvie replied as Scarlet started to drive back to work.

“You can take me on a date sometime if you’d like.” Scarlet let the words jump out of her mouth quickly just before the traffic lights turned green, acting completely casual and nonchalant just like she had after hitting her head as if nothing had happened at all.

“A date?” Yvie’s voice raised an octave higher than it should have.

“You know where two people who kind of fancy each other go and get food? It’s a pretty basic term, I thought you’d know seen as you’re crazy clever and going to the best University in the country.”

Yvie choked on her water and sent it flying down the wrong way, a mess of coughs and splutters next to Scarlet’s pristine self. It wouldn’t have been the worst way to die, at least she’d never feel the embarrassment afterwards and have the dignity of knowing she’d given the girl a good time just before.

“I haven’t gotten in yet.” Yvie’s mind was thrown away from the conversation and back to the impending doom of her University application. Thank god she always had Scarlet to remind her of the massive feat she was trying to achieve.

“You can say no if you want, I don’t care.” Scarlet pulled into the car park, not really caring that her wheels were at a forty-five-degree angle and only just within the lines.

Yvie thought of all the times she had come up with convoluted methods to avoid Scarlet’s presence after their first meeting, of that first day she’d been given a lift home and how much had changed since then. Scarlet was confident and sometimes lived on a different planet to Yvie altogether but that didn’t hide her warmth, her wit or the big smile that came on her face whenever she tried to dance. And as much as she was shocked by her own thoughts, Yvie couldn’t deny that an evening with that warmth, wit and smile was all she really needed to relieve her stress.

“Well, where would you like to go for food then?” Yvie asked her as they entered the building, ready to part ways until the end of the day.

“Sorry, you’ll have to come up with that one on your own.” Scarlet grinned. “And please don’t fuck it up, Yvie.”

#rpdr fanfiction #if we walk down this road #got my number #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #scyvie #lesbian au #sixth form au #high school au #british au #enemies to lovers #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #ashley #tw references to racism and racial sterotypes #concrit welcome

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justjessame · 4 years

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Double Shot Chapter 23

To say I wasn’t tempted by the idea of doing a drive-by instead of a inside tour of my mom’s house would be a fucking lie. There was a HUGE part of me, even with the confidence having Clay by my side gave me, that wanted to drive by as fast as possible with a nod of my head toward the house and then fuck all the way off, but that wouldn’t do. Facing it, getting it out of the way, and then deciding what to do with the house was the best course of action. At least that’s the mantra I kept repeating to myself throughout the morning, while I also prepared for the celebratory dinner at Enzo’s.

Carrie was in the office when I called and she nearly squealed at the idea of a party being held. I wanted to cancel, just from the glee that she seemed to be oozing, but then I shrugged. Small tourist town on the coast, we didn’t get much excitement, I guess. We talked over how to make it work, without alienating Enzo’s regulars, and discussed something that I hadn’t wanted to mention to Keli.

“If I make it, can I bring it in without Joey getting pissed?” Joey was Enzo’s pastry chef, a territorial Italian who was known to lose his shit if he overheard a muttered complaint about the tiramisu.

Carrie snorted. “Joey will be fine as long as I promise him that you aren’t stealing his job. He keeps hearing glowing reviews of the pastries you make over at the Drip, he doesn’t KNOW it’s you, but he suspects.” Takes a baker to know one, I thought. “I’ll handle his overabundance of testosterone, you take care of the cake.”

I chose Saturday night. I hoped that Davey and George would come, and I thought I’d ask Clay to invite his team. It felt right, somehow to have all of us together for a night of celebration. Plus, with all of us in one spot, maybe I wouldn’t worry about the knife hanging over our heads.

Clay came in around lunchtime, and I smiled as I shifted control to Keli. While I did it almost daily when I made a run to the bank, this time we both knew, as did the girls I left in her hands, was different. She wished us well for our chore, since I told her what we were planning, and Clay’s eyes widened when she didn’t look murderous while she offered it.

I was chuckling as we walked to my car. “Keli’s my new manager,” I offered as I beeped the car unlocked so we could get in. “I think she’s taking well to her new role.” His eyes met mine when we got inside the car and I smiled. “You told me I should start delegating more.”

His answering smile nearly made me forget why we were in the car. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” I was still thinking about Keli, but he went on. “I’m right here, Char, if it gets too hard-” Oh, I blinked, he meant the house. Right, the whole point of the day. Shit.

“I know,” now, I added, starting the car and pulling onto the street. And I hoped he knew how much I loved having him with me. The house I grew up in looked more like a doll house than my memory bank allowed it to. In fact, if someone asked me to describe it prior to us pulling up in front, I might have created a word image that was a cross between the Addam’s family house and Dracula’s castle. Good times, good times.

In reality, it was white with pale blue trim. The scalloped framework of the wrap around porch, the white picket fence, the perfect lawn all belied the darker memories that took place inside. I shook my head when I took in the matching dollhouse mailbox.

“I forgot she added that,” I muttered, touching the wood with a fingertip. “She tried so hard to make everything picture perfect.” Clay was looking around, and I knew he was wondering if I had the key. “It’s here,” I held up the keyring that held all the keys I used daily. “Habit,” I murmured, thinking that it made little sense to have kept it with me, but I had.

“Are you ready?” His voice was quiet as we walked through the gate, up the floral lined pathway. I nodded, thinking it was all surreal. The last time I- Shaking it off, I took the steps onto the porch carefully, smiling at the care that Davey had paid for to keep up the house no one ever went inside.

I unlocked the door and took a deep breath. Opening it, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the air wasn’t stale. Then again, Davey and George probably had someone come in and air it out regularly, not to mention keep the dust at bay. What I wasn’t prepared for, as I stepped over a threshold I hadn’t touched since I was ten years old, was the fact that it was still completely furnished just like the last time I was inside.

Looking around, without moving further than the entry hall, it felt like if I stood still I’d hear her call out. That my mom would come through the doorway from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and admonishing me for staying at the cafe too late. Or from the living room, a book in her hand and her reading glasses perched on her nose, eyes tight with worry and anxiety, asking me if I’d eaten or if I wanted her to make me a sandwich.

“Char?” Clay’s voice startled me, so lost in the past that I’d forgotten him. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.” My voice was barely a whisper, I felt scared that I’d pop the bubble of nostalgia, the feeling that she was still here, still just out of sight felt so real to me.

I’d forgotten how light she’d kept the colors inside the house too, my memories of those years so clouded by the pain she was coiled in. Pale walls, pale wood, pale patterns. I started moving, knowing that she wasn’t here, not really. Her book, or the one she’d been reading last was still by the chair she always sat in near the fireplace in the library. Her glasses on top of it. I was surprised the cup she used for her tea wasn’t next to it on its matching saucer, but the housekeeper had probably washed and put it away.

It felt surreal, how light and airy the house actually felt, versus how I remembered feeling living inside of it. As I climbed the stairs, wondering what room she’d done it in, if there would be a sign of it, I saw that all the bedroom doors were open. So were the bathrooms. Mom would have had a coronary, I thought with a sad smile. My feet took me to my old bedroom and I held my breath at the sight of the room filled with everything from a childhood that I tried to block out.

The bed, so big for the tiny girl I’d been the last time I slept in it, had four huge white posts and a set of steps to help me get into it. The bed clothes, were they always lavender colored? I vaguely remembered the dollhouse, another replica of the house I stood in, filled with miniature versions of the furnishings and even the people. Or at least there had been, at one time all of them. I walked to it, feeling Clay watching from the doorway and bent down.

The house, like the one I was inside of, was immaculate. The little girl was in the kitchen, baking with a man who looked like George. A woman was in the library in Mom’s chair with a tiny book and a cup on the table beside her, a man who looked like Davey on the sofa. Tilting my head, and twisting the house on it’s rotating base, I smiled as the front came into view. There, hanging from the gingerbread trim of the front porch, from a noose I’d fashioned out of dental floss was the doll that looked like Walter. Happy that no one had removed at least the one thing that proved I’d actually fucking lived in this perfect house, I stood up and turned to see Clay staring at me, his eyes flashed to the dollhouse and I waited for him to gasp or his eyes to widened but he just grinned.

“Takes talent to make a functioning noose out of floss, Char,” he came further into the room and took a look around. “This house is something else.”

“This house is a lie,” I amended. “It’s gorgeous, it just doesn’t-” I sighed. Did I want it?

Clay wrapped himself around me, tucking my head under his chin. “You don’t have to make a decision today, or tomorrow.” I smiled as I snuggled into his chest. “It is a beautiful house though.” I couldn’t deny that. “Want to make at least ONE more good memory here?”

I tipped my head back and raised an eyebrow. His head lowered to mine and as his mouth met mine I smiled into his kiss thinking, perhaps, just perhaps, the house wasn’t ALL bad.

#Franklin Clay x OFC #The Losers (2010)#alternate universe #smut

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bucky-iss-bae · 5 years

Text

TGIF - Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky relax on a Friday night enjoying baths and facemasks xoxo

A/N: A whole ass mess, that’s me. Trying to still think of fics I can write up, like big official ones and shittttt but still a whole ass mess xoxo

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Fandom: MCU/Marvel

Warnings: Fluff? I guess?? This is the weirdest, cheesiest shit man.

Word count: 1500ish

Masterlist Fandom list

TGIF

“Bucky” You called walking through your apartment looking for him, “Buckyy” You called again,

You were sure he said he was going to be back from his mission by the time you got home from work that day. You hadn’t heard much from him these last few days and to say you missed him was an understatement. Aside from a few text messages between the two of you, you hadn’t spoken in over two weeks. Knowing that you would most likely see him today got you through work and made leaving on a Friday all the more sweeter.

You walked through the apartment, dropping your bag, and kicking off your shoes in your room. As soon as you were out of your shoes, you chose to quickly swap out of your work attire, and into some leggings and a hoodie, especially because comfort on a Friday night outweighs anything.

Once you walked back out onto the landing and through to the living room and kitchen you most definitely didn’t see any sign of him, his gear wasn’t in your room, and everything was exactly as you left it before work this morning.

You sighed realising he was definitely not home yet and went to go grab your phone to find out where he was. Although Bucky, with texting, was atrocious. He only ever sent messages if absolutely necessary, and those messages constantly being only a few words long.

You grabbed your phone out of your bag to see a few more emails from work, all of which making your roll your eyes, you can get back to them on Monday morning, you saw a few messages from friends asking if you were down to go to a bar tonight, and despite hating going out once you were in your ‘Friday night attire’ you were potentially thinking of taking up the offer depending on where Bucky was and when he would be getting back.

You instead sent him a quick message before tidying the place up a little, you honestly had no clue how the place got messy when you were the only one here at the moment. And you tried to make sure it was tidy before Buck got back.

You were singing and dancing along in the kitchen whilst making some food for yourself when you finally heard Bucky,

“Damn sugar, you think you could show me some of those moves in the bedroom?”

You spun around so fast you were sure you gave yourself whiplash but stood there was the love of your life with a tired smile on his face as he watched you,

“Bucky” You squealed throwing yourself at him, he caught you and kissed you before he hugged you and buried his head into your neck before breathing in,

“How are you?” You asked him, pecking him once more,

“Happy to be home with you sugar.” Was all he said about himself before giving you another small smile, “What you got cooking?” He then asked,

“Not much, chicken fillets and rice. You must be hungry”

He nodded, “Hungry, tired, need to shower and sleep for about a week”

You frowned a little at him, “Did you not sleep much?”

With Bucky, you knew his nightmares were a constant, and him getting a full night’s sleep, especially whilst away on missions was a difficult one,

“I slept when I could. And you know me, I can sleep anywhere, when I need to” he grumbled,

You shook your head, “The chicken and rice are both cooking, they’ll still be another half hour, how about, you go get in the bath, and I mean the bath, not a shower, and I’ll come to wash your hair for you. Get a bit relaxed. We can eat and have a chilled out evening and a good night sleep huh?” You asked him,

He chuckled a little but leant down to kiss you on the cheek before nodding, “That sounds perfect sugar.”

You smiled at him, “Good, you go get yourself sorted, and I’ll be there in a few minutes”

He trailed off to the bathroom, and you finished up in the kitchen before joining him, he was lazily getting undressed and you decided to run the bath for him, putting in the bath crystals that you only ever used on the worst days.

A few seconds later he came in and wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your forehead, “Thanks doll, I really appreciate this.” He mumbled into your hair,

You turned around and gave him a kiss, “Anything for you Buck. I know how tired you are. But I have to ask, did you by any chance get either shot or stabbed”

He grimaced at that, “You caught that huh?” he asked looking down on the right side of his torso where there was a fresh scar, “I got stabbed pretty bad. But Dr. Cho sorted it out. That’s why I got back so late” He told me.

“Why, and how did someone get that close to stabbing you like that as well as through your tac gear?” You asked, brushing your fingertips across it,

“It happens sugar. It happens. The main thing is I’m here with you,” He kissed your forehead and it scared you knowing that Bucky could get hurt at any time,

“I really don’t know what I would do if you got hurt, Buck.”

“I’m not gonna get hurt doll. I promise” He said, “And are you not going to join me?” He asked,

You shook your head a small smile on your face, “Maybe next time. Go on get in”

He stripped down completely before getting into the tub, his whole body relaxing within seconds. The water was at the perfect temperature, you were pretty sure he would fall asleep within minutes, especially when you stared wash his hair.

“I had a shower when I got to the compound, but damn, nothing can beat this” He murmured,

You chuckled at that, “When did you get back?”

“A few hours ago” He replied back, “Had to get stitched up, showered, debriefed, all hell”

“You worry me buck” You whispered thinking back to his stab wound, “Especially when we don’t talk for so long. I don’t hear anything about you, and you get stabbed!”

“I know babydoll, I know. But I’ll always come back to you. I promise” He said tipping his head to smile at you,

His blue eyes were content as you massaged his head, “Tell me about your day sugar. How was work?”

“Eugh” you grumbled thinking of work, “Ok it wasn’t that bad I’m just, it’s been such a long week” You started as you washed the shampoo through his hair.

He listened to you about your day which so quickly led to any drama that was happening. Which led you to bitching about people that you didn’t like. Which then led him to talk sense into you.

“Tell me about you now. I talk too much” You said when you were finishing off,

“I love listening to you talk doll. And thank you for this” He said,

You lent down and kissed his head, “You wanna finish up and I’ll go finish dinner?” You asked him,

“That sounds good,” He said to you.

You went to finish dinner for the two of you before he came out. Both of you ate, carried on talking while watching some Legally Blonde before he cleared out the dishes and came back in to join you.

His head was in your lap, you were playing with his now dry hair, “You know, I never realised how satisfying it is when someone plays with your hair. Like this, this right here makes everything worth it”

“It does” You smiled at him, “Also...” You said touching his face causing him to scrunch his nose up, “You need a face mask” You said tapping his face,

His face fell and he shook his head, “I’m sorry what?”

“Face masks, Buck. You know you love them deep down” He sighed and shook his head but you quickly ran to your room grabbing a clay face mask so it wouldn’t go all over Buckys beard.

He was sat up and was staring at you, a small smile on his face as he shook his head,

“Honestly doll, I never thought I would care about skincare before I met you”

You just grinned at him, “How else are we supposed to keep you young and well... what else could we be doing on a Friday night huh?” you asked him,

He rose his eyebrows at you and looked you up and down with suggestive eyes, his blue eyes twinkling with a little bit of cheekiness despite his tired look,

“I could think of a few things doll” He murmured,

You rolled your eyes especally since you were stood in a hoodie of his and leggings, but smiled at him, “Oh don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll have time for that tomorrow. Pretty sure my schedule is free”

He laughed as you sat beside him, you handed him a headband to put his hair back and he sat there whilst you painted the face mask on his face,

He flinched when the cold product hit his face but relaxed after a minute or two, he then helped you put the sheet mask on your face. Both of you sat there pampering yourselves as you carried on watching the film.

This type of Friday night made you feel like a grandma but considering your boyfriend was literally over 100 years old, you could get away with it.

A/N: Any requests, send them in xoxo

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes Imagine #Bucky Barnes x Reader #james buchanan barnes #James Barnes #Bucky Imagine #The Winter Solider x Reader #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes one shot #Bucky One Shot #Bucky Drabble #Bucky Barnes Fluff #Fluff Bucky #MCU #marvel cinematic universe #Marvel one shot

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starlightinhumanform · 5 years

Text

The Art of Love: Chapter 4

Fandom: She Ra (2018)

Ship: Glimadora

Summary: As Adora and Glimmer spend more time together, Glimmer realizes her feelings surrounding Adora are far more complicated than she originally thought. In fact, she has a lot more feelings than she thought.

Warnings (for this chapter): Mild Language, Food Mention, Description of mild emotional distress (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff

A/N: Ooo boy do I smell plot development? Hell yeah I do! All notes especially reblogs and comments are so so appreciated. Thank you so much for reading; I hope you enjoy! I love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 The Art of Love Masterpost Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

By the time the GrubHub guy had arrived around 30 minutes later, Adora had gained 2 more clay smears and made 7 more proton models. Her hair had been transferred into a messy bun that made her look like some sort of Instagram model. It had of course made Glimmer scoff to see her pulling the ultimate “white girl” move. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she managed the causal, scruffy artist much better than Glimmer ever did, even though that’s exactly the look she attempted on the daily.

The door bell rang, making Glimmer flinch once again, her hand jerking along with the paint she was holding. She let out a stream of profanity at the smudge she had made.

Adora looked up with gentle concern in her eyes that tempted Glimmer to throw the paint brush at her face, “Is everything all right?”

Glimmer stood up grumbling, “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get the food- back in a minute.”

She could feel Adora’s gaze following her as she walked out of the room and it made her face burn red; what was she looking, was there something on her back? Why couldn’t she just leave her alone? Glimmer couldn’t wait for this project to be over but it seemed determine to drag her through hell before it could be complete.

Glimmer used her signature jerk to open the door, grabbed the food and shoved some crumbled cash into the deliverer’s hands after a few quick words and a grimaced smile.

When Glimmer walked back to her room she wondered if Adora looked any different when she was alone, if no one was around to witness her mask of sweetness.

Glimmer silently creaked the door open and peaked in, a part of her expecting to see Adora having transformed into some kind of green alien. Instead, Adora was sitting just as she had been minutes before when Glimmer had been in the room- hunched over the clay in her hands, her hair an annoyingly cute mess piled on the top of her head, swaying gently from side to side in time with the song she was singing. Oh.That was different.

Adora was full on singing now, Hozier lyrics streaming out of her mouth in strong, sweet veins of sound that rippled through the air. It was disgusting how perfect her voice was- just another thing that she was better at than Glimmer- but it was somehow hypnotizing despite Glimmer’s revulsion. It was like watching a siren: surrounded by ship wrecks, seeing the flesh rot off her body but still being drawn forward. It was like a string had been tied around Glimmer’s heart, pulling her forward towards those sweet words that hung in the air like a toxic gas, wishing those words were directed at her.

“When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her”

It was like- oh no. Glimmer knew exactly what this was starting to feel like.

Adora turned her head to notice Glimmer who shook her head, hoping she could dislodge the thought. She walked in as if she hadn’t been standing in the doorway for a minute and a half and sat down, thrusting a steaming bucket kung pow chicken at Adora.

Adora took the box with a grateful smile and unflapped the lid, taking a deep breath through her nose of the warm scent radiating off of the contents.

She looked ready to dig in with her bare hands before giving Glimmer an awkward glance, “Uhh do you have any forks?”

Glimmer looked up from where she was shoving Chow Mein in her mouth with the chopsticks she had found in the bag. She reached in and found another pair, holding them in front of her, “Got ‘opsticks.”

The blond gave what could be described as a wince, “Oh, I’m not very good at those, are you sure it didn’t come with any forks?”

It took only a minute of scrounging around in the white and red bag for Glimmer to find nothing more than a handful of fortune cookies. She held them up, “I mean, you could use these and scoop it up.”

Adora stared at Glimmer’s deadpan face and managed to hold one herself before collapsing into laughter.

She threw hear head back, her hand splayed across her chest and tears leaking out of the edges of her eyes.

Glimmer didn’t think it was that funny but she could feel a smirk growing on her own lips, “Are you ok?”

Adora took a moment to gasp for breath, “I’m sorry, I’m- I’m just imagining trying to scoop it up and, and like the cookie just crumbles into it.”

Glimmer couldn’t help but giggle at the mental image as Adora dissolved into a shaking mess once more, even snorting a few times.

She took another look at Adora, crumbled over herself and laugh so hard her face was red enough to match the writing on the To-Go bag. Maybe it was how tired and stressed and hungry she was but but something cracked in her and she collapsed forward cackling.

Adora bowed her head up long enough for her panting breath to stabilize, “Or like, you’re picking up some noodles-“

“-and they just slide right off!” Glimmer finished the sentence as they both fell to the floor, grasping at their sides.

After a moment Glimmer took a a sharp inhale through her nose and straightened up; Adora wasn’t a friend so she might as well stop pretending like this wasn’t all some temporary show being put on. Glimmer threw a wrapped pair of chopsticks at Adora who was still doubled up on the floor, “Come on, dork, we have a lot of work to do.”

Adora followed suit, sitting up and peeling the paper from the utensils, “All right, all right, pass my food back over then.”

Glimmer did so and watched in amusement for a few moments as the other girl creased her eyebrows at the chopsticks.

“Aren’t they supposed to be separate?”

“You have to snap them apart,” Glimmer smirked, but it was almost kindly and she didn’t like that. She began internally scolding her face and reminding it that that she didn’t like Adora, that she was a snake and just saw Glimmer as a tool.

Her face got the message and fell silently, refusing to look at Adora as she continued to struggle with comical cuteness. It was obvious she was trying to play the “helpless and adorable” role.

Quietness filled the room and it should have been comforting but it just made Glimmer aware of how awkward the situation was- they were acting like friends, but they weren’t, but maybe Adora thought they were?

Despite the queasiness building up inside of Glimmer, she continued to shove food into her mouth, using it as a distraction. Besides, Adora couldn’t expect her talk of her mouth was full of Chow Mein. Glimmer huffed into her food, looking into the greasy noodles as if asking them What?! What do you want me to do?

Once again her body acted without her permission, glancing up at Adora who had given up on using the chopsticks correctly and was instead simply stabbing the pieces of chicken and vegetables within her container.

Glimmer let out a reactionary snort that she immediately wished she could take back when Adora matched her gaze and gave a sheepish smile. Glimmer broke off the eye contact and stared back down at her noodles who offered no consultation. Maybe I should at least say something- but maybe it’s been too long to say anything now. I wish these noodles would stop looking at me that way. Wow. I really am going crazy.

She stabbed a chunk of carrot out of frustration. That’ll show them damn noodles.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to use them that way,” she could hear the grin on Adora’s lips. What an aggravating brat; some day Glimmer was gonna wipe that smirk off her lips.

For now, Glimmer just groaned and threw her head before reaching out to correct Adora’s hands with enthusiasm that surprised both of them.

Her hands were so different from Adora’s- smaller and chubbier and tanner and splattered with blues and purples and pinks. Even with the clay, Adora’s looked like a doll’s; pale and slender and some how delicate as they rested in Glimmer’s hold even though they only sat there for a moment.

Adora had the utensils held upright in a clenched fist and Glimmer could see her own hands shaking as she unwrapped Adora’s grip, taking the chopsticks from her. This was all too much for her, all too friendly.

“Ok so, basically,” she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as inconspicuously as she could. She handed one of the chopsticks back and placed the other one on a napkin in front of Adora. Glimmer held up one of her’s to demonstrate, “You know how to hold a pencil right? Basically just do that with one of them and slip the other one next to it so you can use them kinda like scissors.”

Adora completed the first step with no problem, looking at Glimmer once or twice- maybe for reference or approval; who knew? Glimmer certainly didn’t. It was the second step where Adora utterly failed, both chopsticks falling to the ground followed by a small “oops” from the girl.

She picked them up again and, again, dropped them both.

Glimmer scowled before making up her mind and reaching out towards Adora once again, offering one of the fallen chopsticks, “Here like a pencil; you’ve got this part down.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a nerd,” Adora was smirking and Glimmer let herself mirror the expression; at least it proved that Adora had some idea of self deprecating humor.

One of Glimmer’s hands was cradling Adora’s and even though her slender fingers were longer than Glimmer’s, her hand seemed small in hers, not fragile, just graceful. She placed the second chopstick between Adora’s middle and index finger, Glimmer still supporting the hand in front of her for a moment too long.

Glimmer drew back as if she had just took a dish out of the oven but hadn’t realized how hot it was until her palms were burned red with splotches. She turned away from Adora who gave a childish giggle at the chopsticks resting in her fingers. While Adora seemed perfectly content to click the utensils together, Glimmer felt like the Chow Mein she had eaten so desperately only minutes before had now transformed into eels and were writhing within her body.

And Adora was right there- everything Glimmer had ever resented, everything Glimmer had ever wanted to be. But Adora... was giggling and clicking away into her takeout box with the wonder of an infant; how could this be the girl everyone loved so much? That’s not the type of person that makes it to the top.

Worst of all, it scared Glimmer. If for one random moment she assumed this is actually who Adora is and that she’s not just faking it, assuming that all the purity she shows and smiles she flashes at school are real, that means she became popular simply for who she was. It meant that Glimmer hadn’t made it there not because she was a genuine person, but because people simply didn’t like her.

Glimmer squeezed her eyes shut; the colours of the room she usually loved were far too loud, screaming into her mind and Adora’s red shirt loudest of all. She could feel the sweat on her palms as she clenched her fists.

“Are you ok?” Adora’s voice was much closer than it was supposed to be. Oh boy here comes my favorite: sickly sweet fake sympathy!

When Glimmer turned her head, Adora was crouched at Glimmer’s side, looking at her with concern playing across the glass of those big blue eyes. Her hand was reaching out hesitantly, only a breath’s width from touching Glimmer’s arm. She managed choke the suffocating sensation out of her throat long enough to growl in Adora’s direction.

“I’m absolutely peachy,” In all honesty, Glimmer’s head was screaming as if it were filled with sirens.

She shot up, not caring that her body knocked Adora’s still out-stretched hand as she did so, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Despite stalking out of the room with as much purpose as she could muster, she didn’t go far. Glimmer let the tension fall from her body as she slumped against the wooden door, like a puppet whose master had let go of the strings.

Glimmer had planned on catching her breath, centering herself, whatever you want to call “getting back to normal”, and then deciding where to go with the situation from there- which would have been a fine plan if Adora hadn’t decided to snoop on Glimmer, peaking her head around the corner of the door.

Unfortunately, this was the same door Glimmer had been currently slumped against and when the door was removed, Adora had unwittingly placed herself in its position. Both girls went flying backwards, squawking in surprise as Adora failed to be as sturdy as the door.

“What are you doing?!” Glimmer could feel the tears prickling at the sides of her eyes.

Adora opened her mouth like she didn’t know how to respond or wasn’t expecting Glimmer’s anger or maybe both. The closest thing she got to a response was a deep blush spreading across Adora’s face as her eyes made a pattern of glancing at what little space was between their bodies and searching for... something in Glimmer’s face.

It was at this point that Glimmer realized how tangled up they were; she had already shifted to face Adora without thinking but that meant the majority of her weight was being held by Adora’s torso as it rose and fell against Glimmer’s stomach with Adora’s heavy breathing. The rest of Glimmer’s weight was being supported by her own arm which was placed only an inch or so left of Adora’s side and below Adora’s upper arm.

Glimmer’s attention was drawn back to Adora’s face as the girl below her tried to stutter out an explanation, “Look I, I don’t know- I felt like. Look, I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry about a lot of things.”

Glimmer managed to stand up with minimal contact or further tangling. She snorted, “Aren’t we all?”

“No, I mean,” Adora was still on the ground but she had sat up now, her legs casually stretched out in a V with Glimmer standing between them, “I think I upset you and I’m sorry for that. And whenever I try to check on you or try to make things better, it just gets worse and worse,” She looked up at Glimmer with those big blue eyes that were far shinier than usual. Her voice was much weaker when she spoke, hardly understandable, “I seem to do that a lot. And I’m sorry.”

Glimmer sighed through her nose, shaking her head as she extended her hand down to Adora, “Come on, get off the ground. You know, I can never know if you actually mean anything you say.”

Adora excepted the hand and began to haul herself up when she suddenly froze, her eyebrows creased together, “What?”

Glimmer snorted, “Well don’t just sit here with you ass half way in the air.”

“Why wouldn’t I mean what I say?” Adora stood all the way up but the lines of confusion remained deeply etched on her face.

A shrug came from Glimmer as if she hadn’t spent the past few days wrestling and juggling with this concept almost religiously, “I just assumed that to be popular you had to be fake and backstabbing and play different roles to get people to like you.”

“You really thought that about me? No wondered you didn’t like or trust me,” Adora’s face was clouded over by hurt and sadness but, after a moment, shifted to a small and timid smile that was present nonetheless, “What made you change your mind?”

Glimmer gave a smirk, “First of all, who said anything about liking you? And secondly... I realized that you were so much of an idiot nobody could play that role for any length of time and it therefore had to be genuine.”

Adora nodded seriously for a moment before throwing her head back laughing, “That’s valid.”

They shared a small smile, there in the doorway to Glimmer’s room, and for once Glimmer let herself believe it was real.

But then the air seemed to grow very stale between them as Adora began to bounce nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other and the insect-like sensation of uncertainty crawled up Glimmer’s spine.

She clapped her hands in front of her with all coolness of a middle aged dad who said stuff like Let’s go, Team! but without any of the misplaced confidence, “Um do you think we should get back to work?”

Adora seemed to be relieved by that idea and Glimmer understood that- the want to return to familiarity after they had just ventured where they had never been before only to scurry away after only sticking their toes in. But that was enough; that was all Glimmer needed for a lifetime, thank you very much.

“Yeah I still have roughly 50 protons to go, right?” Adora’s joke brought Glimmer from whatever trench she had settled into in her mind.

“Oh hmm yeah,” she hummed in response. Nothing like a noncommittal answer to show you’re really present in a conversation.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both working diligently at their respective “stations,” which now seemed oddly far away compared to how close they had been tangled up on the floor; feeling the lack of the warmth from Adora’s body that had become far too familiar, far too quickly and then been stolen away with similar speed. Glimmer didn’t know what to say or do. How could she? Only minutes ago the thought of the girl made her nauseous and now they were... friends? Maybe. Probably not. Glimmer had no evidence that even if Adora was being truthful, this whole relationship that was struggling to grow like a plant deprived of sun wouldn’t completely wither away as soon the project was over. It wasn’t like Adora was lacking friends the way Glimmer was; she had lots of them, she had Cat. God, Cat.There was no way she was going to let her best friend hang out with somehow with as “uncool” as Glimmer.

“Hey can I ask something that might be a little personal?” Adora’s voice breaking the silence forced Glimmer to dig herself out of her thoughts once more.

“What?” The question registered before Adora had the chance to repeat herself, “I guess so...”

Adora didnt look up from the clay in her hands as she spoke and Glimmer wondered if it was easier to look at than her face or Adora was just trying to be a good student and get the work done, “What’s your mom’s job? She seems to work really long shifts. I understand if you don’t want to answer or something though!”

“Oh, no it’s cool. She’s an ER nurse. I’m actually kinda proud.”

Adora nodded, “Yeah that’s really cool.”

The silence settled in again but this time it felt more natural, comfortable. Like a cold room that had been empty all night but started to warm up as people filled it.

“Do you miss her? Like, do you get to see her a lot with those long hours?”

Glimmer just shrugged; they weren’t going there, not yet and if this went down the way Glimmer was predicting, probably never.

“Ok my turn,” Glimmer decided to speak after a few moments of quiet concentration, “Why do you care so much about getting an A on this project? You can afford to even get a D on it and still pass the class with an A, so why does it matter so much?”

All of the usual light seemed to flicker out out of Adora’s face and her hands stopped their work and started aimlessly fiddling with the clay instead.

Glimmer immediately wished she could take back the question, “You, uh, you don’t need to answer either.”

“I just like getting good grades,” Adora shrugged and resumed her work but Glimmer was too familiar the tension in her face and the stiffness of her fingers to mistake the casualness for anything more than an armor.

She shook her head, the obnoxiously curious and somewhat disrespectful portion of her brain breaking past all safeguards to push the topic, “Nah it’s more than that.”

Glimmer put down the clay and paint brush in front of her and shifted so she was facing Adora, “Come on tell me, spill the tea.”

Adora managed a smile, but it was still weak, “Uh, I was adopted? And I’ve always felt like I need to prove they chose the right kid? I’m sorry, I’m not sure if that makes sense.”

Regret was filling Glimmer’s body as tears glistened in Adora’s. Shit shit shit. Why did she also have to ask about the worst things? This was why no one liked her, “Oh god, I’m really sorry I asked and then pushed it and I should have just let it go. Oh shit I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Glimmer.”

“Not it’s not! I shouldn’t have kept pushing it when you obviously didn’t want to talk about it!” Glimmer was rushing her words out, hoping they could erase what she had said before but knowing they couldn’t.

Adora let out a watery laugh, “It’s ok, it’s not you’re fault that I have perfectionist ideals that I can never achieve because of abandonment issues and separation anxiety.”

Glimmer’s eyes widened; what the hell was she supposed to say to that?? She felt like she should at least try to respond, “Oh, uh-“

“I’m joking, Glimmer!” Adora’s face wet enough for her loose hair to plaster itself to her cheeks but she was grinning.

“Hug?” Glimmer held her arms out in front of her. They were stiff and shaking slightly; this was not comfortable territory to Glimmer but neither was any of this project and, besides, she felt like she owed Adora for bringing up a topic that was obviously a sore spot.

Adora raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

Glimmer nodded, “Yeah bring it in, dork. That’s why I’ve got my arms hanging out in front of me like an idiot.”

Adora beamed a full on smile and moved so she could shuffle forward on her knees to close the foot of empty space between them. She wrapped her arms around Glimmer’s neck, allowing Glimmer to wrap her arms around her torso. Adora smelled nice as she buried her face into Glimmer’s shoulder. It reminded Glimmer of a forest- earthy from the clay and sweet from some sort of shampoo or perfume. The scent was making her lightheaded. Or maybe it was the blood rushing to her head, her heart pounding like a scared rabbit trapped in her rib cage, so quickly she was worried Adora could feel it as she pressed herself into Glimmer.

Time seemed to slow down, were they there for a second, a few minutes, the whole night? Glimmer couldn’t tell. When Adora finally gave Glimmer a last squeeze and drew away, Glimmer was surprised she didn’t fall forward. She was certainly dizzy enough to faint.

Adora gave a small smile and Glimmer returned it; trying to contain her own disbelief at how much had changed in just the past 2 hours. However this stupid project turned out, getting to the finish line was certainly a roller coaster.

46 notes · View notes

ninzied · 6 years

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true pair

or, frank takes karen skeet shooting.

for ‘the way i said i love you’ prompt 27. a taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips. thank you anon!

…

The first time he watches her line up her shot. That’s when Frank knows.

He’s brought her skeet shooting, on a range out in Jersey. “This your idea of a date, huh?” she’d asked him when he pulled up to her building, but there was a smile in her voice as she said it, leaning across the console of his truck to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hi,” she whispered, and he let the engine just idle a minute so he could turn and kiss her properly, hard and slow like there was nothing that could stop him anymore.

“Hey,” he said back, and it was enough, he was enough, for her, somehow.

Karen kissed him again before settling into her seat, with a quirk of her brow and a teasing “So. You ready to get your ass handed to you for a change?”

(If he’s being honest, Frank knew then, too.)

(If he’s being completely honest, Frank has always known.)

It shouldn’t come as a shock to him, that she knows her way around a shotgun.

It shouldn’t, but it does, just a little, when she slips two shells from the box that Frank offers her, loads up both barrels and snaps the gun back into place without so much as another glance at him. He doesn’t need to tell her how to hold the thing either, only stands back and watches, and thinks about how it kind of terrifies him that she’ll never stop finding ways to catch him off guard.

But it’s not that she knows what to do with a gun. It’s the part that comes after, the part that really gets to him, these fractions of seconds where Karen goes perfectly still. Blue eyes like steel on the sky, nothing but wind in her hair as she takes a deep, calming breath, and Frank thinks he could never grow tired of watching her like this.

That’s when he knows he’s well and truly gone.

…

On their first date, he’d tried something slightly more normal. A boardwalk stroll down Brighton Beach, Karen nibbling on an ice cream cone as she swung their linked hands maybe a little self-consciously between them.

They’d walked mostly in silence, still trying to figure out how to do all of this, blinking out the midday sun as an excuse not to look too closely at each other when they smiled.

They lingered by a remote spot on the water, avoiding the larger crowds down by Coney Island – avoiding other things, too. The usual amusement park trappings. All that deep-fried shit, the noise and the rides. The Ferris wheels. The carousels.

Frank felt her hand on his arm, leading him down to the water instead, and he knew what she was thinking. He knew, and he wanted desperately then to just be some normal guy for her, the kind who didn’t make her wonder if he was more ghost than man on some days.

“Thought maybe we could stay here a while.” She looked down at the last bite of her cone as she said it, and Frank took her chin in his hand, tilting her gaze up to his.

“You got a little something, right there.” He swiped his thumb across the corner of her mouth, brushing aside a stray crumb.

“Got it?” she breathed, as he took a step closer.

“Think so,” he murmured, “but just to make sure…” and he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her deep, tasting the sweetness on her tongue.

They made their way back to the boardwalk with his arm slung over her shoulders, the sand still in their toes as he stopped them by one of those claw machine games. He didn’t expect much – the damn things were rigged and everyone knew it – but something about the way Karen was smiling at him made him feel like it was worth a shot anyway.

“You feeling lucky today, Castle?” she wanted to know, and he smirked at her, sinking a grand total of five bucks into the machine before just about calling it quits.

“Here, let me,” said Karen on his last set of quarters, using her hips to nudge him out of the way. He stepped obligingly back, then watched her in rapt disbelief as she dove the claw down into a sea of stuffed animals, plucking one out with the deadliest aim.

It was a round yellow thing, with goggles for eyes and three strings of hair coming out of what Frank presumed to be some kind of head.

“The hell is this?” he grunted, turning it back and forth between his hands.

“A minion,” said Karen, with a perfectly straight face. “You never seen Despicable Me?”

“Despicable who?” scowled Frank, feeling her laugh into his cheek as she leaned in and kissed him.

“I can always give it to someone else,” she told him, teasing.

“That right?” said Frank, pointedly tucking the minion under the arm farthest away from her. “Because this ‘someone else,’ he and I are gonna have a problem if it comes down to that.”

Sometimes it was too easy, to find himself reaching for her like nothing had ever stood in his way, and it was during these moments that Frank felt the most helpless. Like it was only a matter of time before he fucked it all up.

He was good for the life-or-death kinds of things, for every catastrophe, for straight up doing what it took to survive. But when it came down to the small stuff, the day-to-day, in-between shit that made everything real – the shit that made everything mean something – Frank was utterly lost.

He was lost, and a part of him worried that he was always going to be missing the mark where it counted, as far as Karen was concerned.

…

“Pull,” she says, and he presses a button to launch the first target.

There’s a burst of orange in the sky, clay shattering everywhere as the second trap fires and meets a similarly explosive end moments later.

“Goddamn,” says Frank, shaking his head in a grave kind of amusement as Karen hoists the gun up and hands it over to him, not bothering to hide one inch of her smugness. “Goddamn, Page.”

She shrugs, smiles. But then it goes a little bit tight at the edges, eyes flashing with something that pains Frank to recognize. “Not my first rodeo, remember?”

She’s rolling her shoulder where the shotgun recoiled as he places a tentative hand on the small of her back.

“Y’okay?” He clears his throat, lowers his voice to just shy of inaudible so that she gets his meaning. “Want to talk about it?”

“Never better,” says Karen, “And…not right now, if that’s okay.” For one horrible second, he thinks she’s pulling away from him, but then she wraps her arms around his waist, notching her chin into the jut of his collarbone. “Another time?”

“Course,” he says gruffly, turning to brush a kiss to her temple. He settles his nose into her hair, breathing in the clean scent of her shampoo, the way that she sighs into him, arms tightening.

The wind sways them in place, nothing but sunlight and greenness around them for miles, and Christ, this thing that he feels, the peace that he gets just from being with her. How it shakes, how it trembles.

It fucking terrifies him, that he doesn’t know what to do with any of this.

…

There was one thing. One thing about her that terrified Frank more than anything else.

He’d tried to stay away from her, at first. New York was a big enough place; as long as he kept his shit far out of Hell’s Kitchen, odds were their paths would never have to cross. As long as he tried hard enough not to want—

“I know you think you’re protecting your girl,” Curtis said to him one afternoon, down by the docks as they scoped out a new shipment of dubious goods. “But – hear me out now, Frank – has it ever occurred to you that maybe the person you’re really trying to protect here is you?”

“Get outta here, Curt.” Frank glowered through a pair of binoculars, eyes going unfocused for a moment as he pretended not to let the man’s words sink in.

“Just saying.” Curt shrugged, then, in a more offhand tone, “Think I’d like her? This Karen of yours?”

Frank smirked before he could help it, chuckling a rueful “What’s not to love?” Well, shit. Curtis was side-eying him hard just as an ominous boom came from one of the trucks down below, and Frank was saved from answering any more of his friend’s bullshit questions for the time being.

He’d tried to stay away from her, but—

Frank eventually wound up exactly where he’d sworn to himself never to go. But he’d been busting his balls trying to pin down these child-trafficking assholes for weeks, and he would’ve made it in and out of that warehouse in no time, if not for the fact that he hadn’t been the only one looking for them.

“Frank!”

He couldn’t be sure, in that moment, if he’d just dreamed her voice into existence by thinking about it, too hard and too often, like that kids’ book with the shoes and the clicking its heels three times to go home.

The uncertainty froze up his insides in a kind of all-consuming terror, and he didn’t see the guy coming at him until the shot had already been fired.

He crumpled like a doll at Frank’s feet, glassy-eyed with blood seeping out of his chest.

Frank turned, and there she was, .380 still clutched in her hands, trained at some point near his shoulder. She blinked, but he could tell she wasn’t really looking at him anymore.

“Karen,” he said, her name scraping his throat and burning like sandpaper on its way out. He wanted to run, wanted to grab her and pull her against him until he could be sure she was real – but he didn’t know how to touch her like this, with all the blood on his hands, the bodies piled around them still warm.

As he approached her she slowly lowered the gun to her side, finally letting it drop back down into her bag. The brightness returned to her eyes, by the time he was inches in front of her, her gaze darting all up and down his body like she needed to see him whole too.

“Hey,” said Frank, and he held out his hands, palms up in some kind of plea, feeling helpless when all he wanted to do was—

She stepped into him, lightly touching his chest, and the sound that he made as the air was choked out of him, it was almost inhuman.

He dropped his forehead to hers, leaning more of his weight into it than he should have, but she only pressed back, nose sliding over his cheek as she drew in a slow breath. She was trembling, when he gave in and put his hands on her waist, or maybe that was him, he couldn’t tell anymore.

He closed his eyes as they swayed, feeling her lips close enough to brush skin more than once, and he tightened his grip, moving over her until their bodies were pressed firmly together.

She took his bloodied face into both hands, and he almost leaned in the rest of the way, bringing his mouth just shy of hers before breathing shallowly into the space between them.

Distantly, he heard the sounds of backup arriving, the police radio static, the muffled shouting through the wall.

“You should go.” Karen gave him a gentle push, but he could only shake his head, agitation rippling through him at the thought of walking away from her without – he can’t. He can’t. He can’t do that to her, not again.

“You can’t what, Frank?” she murmured, her voice a low hum by his ear, and it took him a moment to realize he’d said it aloud.

“Can’t lose you,” he rasped. “I can’t lose you, Karen,” and he needed – he needed her to know that he meant it, in every possible sense of the word. That he – that she—

“Castle? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Mahoney’s flashlight beam caught and held against the sides of their faces, jolting Frank out of his daze for a moment. He was almost amused when Karen tried to nudge him back, finally angling her body in front of his with a protective hand on his arm.

“Miss Page,” drawled Mahoney, looking pretty unamused about the whole thing himself. “You’re early.”

“Sergeant,” she greeted him, equally dry.

“And what is…this?” Mahoney gestured at them with a deeply perturbed kind of expression, before waving them off with a “Know what? Never mind. Forget I asked. I don’t even want to know.”

“Look,” started Frank. “This was all me. Karen had nothing to do with—”

“What I do know,” continued Mahoney, voice overloud, like Frank had not even spoken, “is that I never saw either of you lurking around here, you got that?” He looked pissed at himself for saying it, but something in his expression softened when Karen turned to mouth a thank you at him.

“You owe me,” he said, and Frank had the distinct impression he wasn’t just talking to Karen.

Mahoney stalked off to examine the rest of the scene, muttering, “Jesus,” then, “Unbelievable, this guy,” as Karen ushered Frank toward one of the side exits.

“When can I—” He stopped them just outside of the door, feeling completely idiotic when she tilted her head at him, waiting. Now really wasn’t the time, but he couldn’t afford to keep telling himself that anymore. “When can I see you again?”

It took a second, to force his gaze up to hers. Mahoney’s guys had all converged to the front of the building, their voices receding, but Frank wouldn’t’ve been able to hear them regardless, not with the way Karen was looking at him.

She bit her lip, a soft smile forming at one end. “You’re seeing me now,” she offered, a playful lilt to her tone, and when she looked through her eyelashes at him – goddamn.

Frank bent forward, nuzzling into her hair like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it was, it was, so long as he learned to stop fighting it. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

She leaned into his touch, pressing the corner of her mouth to his jawline – not quite a kiss, but a promise of something, and he was ready, he was, to make her a promise of his own.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Frank used his hand, careful to avoid any blood, to brush back her hair as she looked him pointedly over with a somewhat incredulous look. “We can, ah, send Mahoney your dry cleaning bill.”

Karen shook her head at him, a full smile blooming this time, and he felt his chest tighten in answer, wondering if it was always going to be this way, like the world might stop spinning if she ever stopped looking at him like this.

It was time, Frank thought, to just—

…

He doesn’t miss once. Not to make her feel bad when she does – but it’s a knee-jerk reaction, at this point, when there’s a gun in his hand and a target in his sightline, to take it down without wasting a bullet or succumbing to any kind of distraction.

He is, at the moment, very, very distracted.

He’d packed sandwiches, and they can’t be half-bad if Karen’s blissful mmm is anything to go by, the two of them sitting on the back of his truck with their legs tangled and swinging gently over the edge together.

He’s trying not to look smug, but he’s not being very graceful about it, scarfing down large bites in order to keep from smiling too hard at her. He thinks she’s managed not to notice, until she leans in to lick the mustard off his face, lingering to kiss him half-breathless for his troubles.

The tang of her is still fresh on his tongue as she slides herself back to the ground, briefly squeezing his knee before striding over to the next station they’ve parked by.

She gives it a test pull, still munching on the rest of her sandwich as two targets soar through the air, simultaneously this time, from opposite ends of the field. They match up at a point in the middle before slow-falling into the grass, rolling to a stop as Karen wipes off her hands.

Timed right, she could still hit them both, if she decides not to go for the single shot when they cross. One, two. Easy as that.

He’s seen what she can do.

Frank makes his way over to the wooden outpost, ready whenever she is.

He hands her the shotgun.

She loads up the barrels, about to step up to the ledge when she pauses, looks over her shoulder at him.

He ducks his head down to his chest, quirks an eyebrow at her as she gives him a saucy little wink. Everything that matters to him, it’s held right there in that breadth of space between her smile and his, and even if it scares the goddamn daylight out of him, it’s worth it, to feel all this with all that he’s got. Every jagged-edged piece of himself, trying to make something whole again with her, not just the lightness but the shadows that come with it too.

There are lines in her heart that run parallel to his, just as sharp in some places, exquisite and strong.

Stronger, even.

Karen lines up her shot, straight down the center of the field. She’s going for it.

That’s my girl.

Her shoulders square, feet planted at just the right angle. He can’t see her expression from where he’s been standing, but he knows the look she must have in her eye, weighed down with ghosts of her own but unshakably blue all the same. “Pull.”

There’s a single crack! of sound through the air, clay falling apart in every direction, dusting the sky until there’s nothing of it left to break.

“See, now you’re just showing off,” says Frank, coming up from behind her, earning himself another one of those smiles as she sets the gun aside and leans back into his chest.

“There’s still a round left, if you want to give it a shot,” she says to him, teasing, tucking her forehead under his chin as he wraps his arms more solidly around her.

“Nah, I’m good.” The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk. “Besides. I kind of like being shown up by my girl.”

“And they say romance is dead,” hums Karen, tilting up just in time to see him pull a face at her. She touches her lips to the underside of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows and gathers her closer.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Frank – he doesn’t know what he could possibly say that feels adequate, but he’s starting to think that that might be okay. That half this thing is still going to be figuring it out, while the other half – the simply loving her half, all of her, with all of him – that much, he has always known.

#kastle #kastleff #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastledaily #don't mess with karen man #that includes you frank #kastle prompts

126 notes · View notes

cookieswriting · 6 years

Text

Can’t Be Happening Pt. 5 (SEAL Team)

((I can’t believe we have to wait until MARCH for new episodes. WHAT IS THAT?!?! NOT COOL MAN!!!! I will do my best to help break up the hiatus…there will be one more chapter after this one and then I’ll get started with some other ideas. Don’t forget, let me know if you have any requests and I will do my best to make it happen! BTW, totally making up Clay’s rank. I know at one point they ID’d him as ‘sailor’ (when Ray was dealing with the whole accidental death of the boy) but A) he’d be called Seaman if he were a non-rate and B) from what I have been able to find, someone on an assault team like Bravo is a First-Class Petty Officer or higher, so he should have been addressed as SO1 not ‘sailor’, especially considering his experience leading other teams as they’ve mentioned several times. But that’s my own personal nitpick ;) and I could also be wrong so there’s also that hahaha))

A dull throb drew Clay back into consciousness, but it took several minutes to figure out that it originated from...well, everywhere. Whole left side of his body, middle...area of the right side of his body...face...there wasn’t a particular spot that he could identify as not aching.

Memories hit him abruptly, of noticing movement in the shadows as he cleared a room chasing Doza’s right’ hand man after he fled the courtyard, of pushing Sonny back to the relative safety of the street and surrendering himself to the dozen men waiting for them. The video...the brutal beating they’d given him despite his insistence that he didn’t know anything. The agony of his leg being broken, and then...nothing.

Forcing himself to remain still, Clay listened to his surroundings. When nothing stood out, he tested his ability to move, and felt panic threaten to seize him. Despite the pain, his left arm was utterly immobile, and his right wrist was definitely bound to something. Dammit.

Voices filtered into wherever the hell he was, and Clay sank into his cover as he gave up on the pretense of unconsciousness. “Please-” A wracking cough cut him off, and fresh agony stole his breath for a moment. “I-I thought it was a restaurant...I don’t know anything.”

Hands pressed against his chest, careful of his shoulders...the first sign that maybe he was missing something. “Stand down, Spenser...you’re safe.”

Davis. Finally blinking against the bright lights above him, Clay took in the concerned face hovering above him and gave a relieved smile. “Lis-” Another round of coughing, and she was gently pressing a straw against his lips.

“Easy, Clay, drink slow. Take a minute, get your bearings. We’re back in Virginia.” Clay looked down to see his left arm strapped firmly across his chest, likely to secure his dislocated shoulder. He did raise a questioning brow, though, when he looked down to see his right wrist secured to the bed. “This isn’t the first time you woke up. First time you’ve woken up coherent enough to settle, though...you tore out your IV the first time trying to fight free before Sonny and Jase could hold you down and the doc could sedate you.”

After taking another long drink he nodded for her to take the cup away. “How long has it been? Where are the guys?” Man, his throat was like sandpaper.

Lisa grinned wryly as she pressed the call button. “It’s been five days since you were taken, two since we made it back to Virginia. The guys are at Command...getting a dressing down for going in after you I’m sure. Not that any of them care, Blackburn has already gone to bat for them, so they will probably just be confined to base for a while.”

Both turned their attention to the soft knock at the door. “Hello there, SO1 Spenser, it’s good to see you alert. My name is Kelly. How are you feeling?” A petite brunette walked in, clipboard in hand, and glanced at Lisa.

“Please, call me Clay.” The nurse nodded with a kind smile. “I’ve been better, that’s for sure...she’s fine to stay if she doesn’t feel like getting up, swear she knows more about any of us than we know about ourselves.” He winked over at his friend, who seemed to visibly relax at his joke. “Everything hurts, not gonna lie...shoulders are both on fire...left moreso than right…”

“I can give you some stronger meds for that-”

“No, I’d rather not be hazy…”

“Clay,” Lisa interrupted gently. “You’re home, you’re safe, and I’m not going anywhere until the boys are back at the very least. Take the relief.”

Kelly looked between them. “How about I give you just enough to take the edge off without affecting your alertness? And when you’re comfortable and ready to sleep, we’ll up the dosage then. Sound fair?” Clay relented with a nod, and remained silent as the nurse took his vitals, removed the strap from his right wrist, and checked his stitches. Once she was finished, the nurse glanced shyly at the SEAL. “Numbers are heading in the right direction, Clay. Maybe once you’re healed up we could grab a drink?”

A sad smile tugged at the man’s lips as images of another beautiful brunette, this one encouraging him to hold on during his darkest moments, crossed his mind. “I appreciate that, Kelly...but I’m not in a good place for that right now.” She nodded and excused herself.

Lisa watched the blonde man rest his head back against the pillow with a tired sigh. “Did you know that Stella tried to call you the day that you were taken?”

He winced at the mention of her name, gentle though it’d been. He was too tired to mask his surprise. “N-no...we, uh...we split up right before shipping out. She’d dodged my first couple of calls when we got to Mexico.”

“She must’ve called right after you left for the mission...was trying to make things right. She’s been with Naima since the…” Davis cleared her throat, looked away for a moment before continuing. “Since the video was released.” Clay felt a twist in his chest at the thought of Stella seeing what he’d been through. Lisa stood and approached the bed, settling her hand over Clay’s uninjured arm. “I’ve kinda taken over keeping in touch with Stella instead of Naima having to be the go-between for the guys. They are...less than thrilled with her over what happened before we left, but I can see things closer to her perspective. I’ve been stuck miles away and unable to do a damn thing as you, Jason and Trent went down in a chopper. I have a little bit of a clearer understanding of what it feels like to be on her side of things.” Watching Clay’s conflicted reaction, Lisa squeezed his bicep and shrugged. “Maybe I wouldn’t have been so quick to forgive her...lapse of judgment if she weren’t so consistent in checking in since the moment the team got you back. She’s following your lead, though, Clay...if you don’t want to see her again, she’ll back off.”

The wounded SEAL stared up at Lisa for a long moment, processing everything she’d said; that Stella had wanted to fix things before he’d been taken hostage...and still wanted to be with him even after what he considered to be the worst scenario she could’ve endured as his girlfriend. “I...I need to see her...talk to her before I make any decisions.” Lisa grinned. “But I need to talk to the others first.”

“What you need to do first is rest. The team will probably be another couple of hours. You’re still healing, Clay...I don’t know how much you remember, but we came really close to losing you. It’s going to take time to bounce back from this, so don’t push it, do you understand me?”

The SEAL couldn’t help his smirk, even as he lost the fight to keep his eyes open. Damn, if this woman doesn’t have some magical powers that bend us to her will, he thought. “Aye aye, ma’am.”

The last thing he saw before falling asleep was the affectionate grin on her face as she settled back into the chair near the door.

“C’mon, Ken Doll, Davis already gave you up, open those pretty blues, you’ve had enough time to sleep.” The gruff voice that dragged Clay back from his slumber was accompanied by light pats on the cheek, and the young SEAL flinched away with a grimace.

“Really, Sonny?” Trent growled. As Clay opened his eyes, the medic was tugging Sonny away from the bed.

“I didn’t touch any of the bruises, but you can’t tell me you aren’t itchin’ to see him awake and talkin’ just as much as I am.” When Sonny caught Clay’s gaze, the Texan lit up. “There he is! Welcome back to the world of the living, GQ!”

“You wanna take it down a notch, Son?” Clay mumbled, turning his eyes to the rest of his room. The entirety of Bravo Team was scattered around him: Sonny and Trent standing at his right side, Brock and Cerberus next to Lisa by the door, Jason and Ray to his left.

“Sorry the caveman can’t keep quiet to save his life,” Lisa offered with a regretful smile. Clay grinned back with a wink.

“How are you feeling, Kid?” Jason asked, voice soft.

“Like hell,” he answered. “What’s the damage for going rogue?”

The Team Leader shrugged. “Couple weeks restricted to base, which is fine because it’s about how long you’ll be stuck in here anyway.” Jason watched his youngest team member quietly for a moment. “Before you ask, cause I know you will, Charlie team is taking over the hunt for Doza.”

Clay nodded his gratitude, chose not to respond to the fact that he’d be confined to this room for two whole weeks. “Thanks for coming after me.”

Brock snorted. “Like not bringing you home was even an option.”

“The only reason the cake-eaters gave us any hell is because we didn’t wait for their green light, couldn’t be made to look like fools for not responding faster,” Ray added.

The injured SEAL fidgeted for a moment, wishing that he could move his left arm - or leg...that he could find some kind of comfortable position as he prepared for what he was sure would be an uncomfortable conversation. He settled for raising the head of his bed so that he could at least be sitting up. “Hey, guys...I’m going to ask Stella to come by...to talk.” Sonny opened his mouth to retort, but Clay held up his good hand, limited thought the movement was by his IVs. “I know that you guys aren’t happy with what happened...but this is between me and her. I don’t know if I’m going to let her back in or not…” He took a breath, both for rest and to steel himself for whatever arguments they might give. “But I am asking that you trust my judgment, whatever I decide.”

“She let you deploy fresh off a breakup, and look at what happened,” Sonny insisted, his hands grasping at the bedrail and tightening. When Clay looked up at him, the Texan was staring at the floor. When he spoke again, guilt softened his tone. “You took a stupid risk…”

Clay wrapped his fingers around Sonny’s wrist and waited until the older man met his eyes to respond. “I recognized a threat to my team and a chance to protect my brothers. I was first in the door, I looked most like just another tourist...I knew things wouldn’t have gone well if they were able to grab anyone else. Breakup or not, I would do the exact same thing in any circumstance. Stella had nothing to do with it.” He squeezed until Sonny nodded his understanding, and then Clay glanced around to make sure the others heard him as well. “I would gladly lay down my life for you, and I know you would do the same. What happened with Stella...she tried not to have the conversation before we left. I was the one who wouldn’t let it go until she told me what was bothering her. It was just as much her fault as it was mine…”

“We’ll follow your lead, Spense. It’s not an easy life...we don’t always get it right the first time around. If this didn’t scare her off...not really sure what would,” Jason assured. The rest of the team nodded their agreement, albeit reluctantly on Sonny’s part. “Just be sure she’s back for the right reasons.”

Davis stood with a genuine smile. “I’ll give her a call. Looks like it’s time for you boys to clear out.” She hesitated for a moment. “Brock, you grabbed Clay’s stuff when we left Mexico, right? Can you bring his laptop in here, give him something to do while he waits for her to get here?” Clay narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, before he remembered her comment about the call he’d missed before being taken.

Ten minutes later, Clay was alone in the hospital room, laptop resting across his knees as he pulled up the video message that he’d never gotten to see. He watches as the face of the woman he loved changed from forced optimism to guilt, tears filling her eyes as she apologized for hurting him and asked for the chance to fix it.

“I was so stupid for waiting so long to call you after Naima talked some sense into me the day you guys deployed.” The blonde SEAL looked up to see Stella leaning against the doorframe, eyes red and watery. She refused to look anywhere but his face. “I knew within a few hours what I was going to do...but I was too embarrassed. Maybe if I’d called sooner, things would’ve been different…” A tear slid down her cheek, and Clay closed the laptop with his good hand.

“Stella, what happened wasn’t because of us breaking up. What happened was because I needed to protect my team...my brothers. I would’ve done it no matter how things were with us.” He hesitated, knowing that this would be the defining moment for them. “That’s not something that will ever change, Stell. It’s my job to protect them, and I will do that with my dying breath if I have to.”

Fresh tears dripped to the ground as she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I...I know,” she murmured, voice surprisingly certain. When she returned her eyes to his, determination shone through. Hesitant steps brought her to his right side, and when he canted his head towards her, she sat gingerly on the bed near his hip. Clay refused to break her stare, reading every shifting emotion as it crossed her face, and instinctively laced their fingers when her hand settled over his. Stella sobbed, and the vice grip around his heart eased. “I love you for your devotion to your brothers, Clay. I would never want that to change...and I’m sorry that I ever made you feel otherwise. Bravo is your family...they’re part of you. I regret giving up even a second of time being with you out of the fear of what might happen...but it’s shown me that I need to make the most of what time we do have together...to be grateful for every moment we are given together, and support you through every step, good or bad.”

Clay smiled softly at her, squeezing her fingers. “If we do this again...I have to warn you, the guys are going to be hard on you for a while, until they feel confident you’re here for good.” Hope swelled in his chest at her responding look of tenderness and the warmth of her hand against his cheek.

“I would expect nothing less from the men who watch your back in life and death situations, as well as every other facet of your life. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to prove to them that I’m not going to let my fear drive me away from you ever again.” She stared into his eyes for a long moment. “Are you willing to give me a chance to make things right?”

In lieu of responding verbally, Clay eased his hand around her waist and tugged her close to press his lips against her. Finally, he was home. Finally, he was whole again. This woman, who’d already proven time and again that she belonged in his world, had come back to him even after the next worst thing to him actually being killed in action...and he would make damn sure she wouldn’t run again. If her response to his kiss was any indicator, that wouldn’t be an issue; the SEAL drew back with a low hiss when they got too caught up in the moment, and she bumped his injured arm.

“Shit, sorry, I’m so sorry…” Her hands hovered over his shoulders, wanting to fix it but not knowing what was safe to touch. Clay chuckled at her and kissed her again briefly, wanting to assure her that he was okay. Stella sat back, now serious, eyes tracing every visible bruise and cut, the bandages and outline of his casted leg beneath his bedsheet. “When that video came on…” He cradled her face when her lower lip began to quiver, and she leaned into his touch. “I was out at the bar, and it didn’t even connect at first that it could be you. One of the others, maybe...but my mind didn’t even let me process the possibility that it would be you. I’ve never been so scared...and then Naima called me, within minutes. Even knowing we’d broken up, not knowing I’d changed my mind...she didn’t give me a choice, I wasn’t going to be alone while you were gone. I don’t know how I would’ve handled everything without her and the other wives.”

Clay made a mental note to thank Naima for calling Stella out when she’d needed it, and being the support she needed and never would’ve felt comfortable asking for. “Ray’s got himself a special lady, and I’m glad she was there when you needed her most.” Idly twirling a strand of brunette hair around his finger, the blonde took in her beautiful face and once again remembered when it had come to him in his darkest moment. “You know, while they had me...there was a point where I hallucinated that you were with me.” She tensed under his touch but didn’t respond, so he continued. “You encouraged me to hold on, reminded me that the guys wouldn’t give up. It gave me strength, got me through til they showed up.” The sudden tears streaming down her face startled Clay, and he narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I...I had a nightmare the second day after you were taken...that I was with you. I could smell the blood…”

The meaning behind her words tightened his chest, and he couldn’t help a grin. “My very own guardian angel. Hey,” he waited until she met his eyes again. “I’m home, I’m safe, and most importantly, you’re here with me. I love you, Stella; getting over this is going to royally suck on many levels, but I know that we’ll get through it together.”

#seal team fanfic #clay spenser whump #clay spenser #stella baxter #Clay x stella #Bravo team #jason hayes #sonny quinn #ray perry #brock reynolds #trent sawyer #lisa davis #one more chapter to go!#send me prompts pleeeeeease!

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writing-royza · 7 years

Text

Two Hundred and Sixty-nine - Are You Satisfied?, 3.0

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I hope you all had lovely weekends; personally, today I watched the snow start falling heavily at 3 a.m., then keep going until 2 p.m., and spent the day inside where it was warm. Hopefully this chapter will keep you warm... warm and fuzzy in the inside, that is!

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Sixty-nine - Are You Satisfied?, 3.0

Riza had been watching him stress over this all week, he knew. He had written the same equations out by hand over a dozen times, looking for any small discrepancy or inaccuracy, paranoid that something was going to go terribly wrong.

And he could not afford any mistakes.

“Unca, are you okay?”

He looked down, smiling. “Yeah, I’m good, kiddo. I’m just excited about where we’re going today.” He caught Riza looking over at him with a doubtful expression that Elicia didn’t see, but didn’t acknowledge except for a return glance.

Surprisingly, the little girl gave him almost the same look. “Okay, but you’re holding my hand really tight….”

Consciously slackening his grip, he let his smile turn sheepish. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little nervous, too. We’re getting you something really special.”

Elicia’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Like what?”

“We can’t tell you,” Riza answered, tugging playfully on one of the girl's pigtails with a smile. “It has to be a surprise.”

It wasn’t much farther to walk before they reached their destination. Pushing through the front door of the shop, Elicia looked at the shelves of figurines, dishes, and other assorted pottery, and her little nose wrinkled. “Smells like dirt,” she murmured quietly.

“That’s the ones that haven’t gone through the ovens,” Roy explained. “Come on; this way.”

He led them through to a little room off the main store, where a thin, reedy man was busily working a potter’s wheel. “Oh!” Hurriedly slowing the spinning slab, he eased the bowl he had been forming into shape as it stopped. “There, that ought to hold.”

Getting to his feet, he wiped his muddy hands on a dirtied apron as he came forward. “You’ll be the special client I heard about from Major Armstrong, I take it?” He lifted both hands. “I’d offer to shake, but, uh….”

“Not a problem.” Roy rested both hands on Elicia's shoulders, subtly keeping her from wandering off to poke around. “I believe the Major told you what we were hoping to do. Is it ready?”

The potter pointed them to a worktable at the side if the room. “All yours, Colonel. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.” He smiled at Elicia as they passed, then removed his apron and left the room at the sound of another customer entering the shop.

Elicia looked around somewhat warily, edging closer to Roy. “Unca, what are we doing here? Mommy says I’m not supposed to play around dirt if I’m not wearing play clothes, and these are good clothes.”

“Don’t worry,” Riza assured her, holding her hand out for the little girl to take. “If anyone’s getting dirty today, it’s him. Come here for a second.” Settling onto a stool beside the worktable, she hoisted Elicia onto her lap. “You remember how Uncle explained to you what alchemy can do?” Elicia nodded, looking back over her shoulder. “Well, today, he’s going to give you a little bit of a demonstration.”

“Oooooh!” Her eyes lit up. “Like Miss Winry’s boyfriend can do!”

Riza had to clamp down fast on a laugh at the expression on Roy’s face as he realized he had just been compared to Edward. Thankfully, he recovered quickly. “Yeah, something like that,” he said, half to himself, proceeding to roll up his sleeves.

Elicia watched raptly as he traced a transmutation circle onto the workbench in charcoal, her little forehead furrowing in a frown. “Unca, I thought you said you could do alchemy without drawing now,” she commented after a moment. “How come you’re drawing this time?”

He didn’t look up, just smiled. “Because I want to be absolutely certain I get this right. I’d hate to screw up when I’m making a present for you right in front of you.”

Finally, he stood straight, taking the fist-sized lump of clay the potter had left for them and setting it in the middle of the circle. “Okay, we’re just about ready,” he commented. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a pair of photos and held them out to Elicia. “Here, kiddo, hold those up where I can see them.”

“…Why did you bring pictures of Papa?”

Riza caught the slight hint of a tremble in Elicia’s voice, and snugged an arm comfortingly around her waist. “It’s okay,” she murmured into the blonde pigtails. “Your daddy and Uncle used to work a lot together, and your daddy was very helpful many times. This time, it’s you and the pictures that are going to help. It’s all right; you’ll see.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Elicia nodded firmly. Roy mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ in Riza’s direction, then settled into the familiar expression of concentration that was usually reserved for his research. With his eyes on the pictures, he took a deep breath, settled his fingers at the edge of the transmutation circle….

Blue light flickered, then flared, and he turned his attention to it fully. The shapeless chunk of clay writhed like liquid as the light took it, twisting and shaping it under Roy’s guidance. It drew together, still wriggling like a living thing, lengthening upward until it stood six inches high.

Elicia gasped, and Riza gently covered her mouth with her free hand so the noise wouldn’t be a distraction. The girl’s eyes grew big, shining with wonder and amazement as she watched the clay take form.

Finally, the light faded away, and Roy pulled his hands from the circle’s outline. He inspected his work briefly, then turned with a smile. “Okay. Come take a look; tell me if it’s good.”

Climbing cautiously down from Riza’s lap, Elicia passed her the photos and edged closer… and abruptly froze.

Roy’s heart sank instantly. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea in the world after all; he’d aired the concern to Riza, but she had assured him she thought Elicia — and Gracia too, for that matter — could handle it. Crouching, he touched a comforting hand to her back.   “You remember you made that little doll of me in school, and gave it to Auntie Riza so she could look after me all the time?” he asked quietly. Elicia nodded mutely. “This is the same sort of thing. Your dad’s always going to watch out for you, even if you can’t see him. Just now you’ll have a reminder of that.”

She still didn’t answer, staring at the little figure on the workbench. Roy gave Riza a hopeless, ‘what do we do?’ look, and all he got back was a raised finger. A gesture of ‘wait.’

And seconds later, Elicia turned and gave him the most bone-crushing hug a four-year-old could manage. “Unca, that’s perfect!” The squeal of delight was loud, setting his ear ringing, but he ignored it in his relief, returning the hug. “It looks exactly like Papa!”

Picking her up, Roy stood, so she could see the little figure more clearly. A clay effigy of Maes Hughes stood on the rough table, frozen in the act of adjusting tiny eyeglasses with a cocky smile. He wore civilian clothes instead of a uniform, the free hand in the pocket of his pants, and was barefoot, as he always went in his own house.

It was the figure of a father, not a soldier. The career he had wanted, not the one that had cost him his life.

Standing, Riza tucked the photos into her jacket pocket. “We’ll have to leave him here for a couple of days, so that the potter can bake the clay so that it’ll last a really long time,” she explained. “But we’ll bring you back to pick him up then, okay?”

Elicia nodded eagerly. “Okay!” She squirmed in Roy’s arms, and he set her back on his feet. “Maybe if we ask him right now, he can do it even faster!”

She was off before either of them could make a motion to stop her. Casting one last fond look at the little figurine, Roy put an arm around Riza’s shoulders as they started for the door. “Kid’s as headstrong as her dad, and twice as energetic.”

“Does that surprise you?” Smiling, Riza slipped an arm around his waist. “Your moment in the spotlight is over. Are you feeling a little better now that you’ve had your daily dose of perfectionism?”

“Yeah.” Paused in the doorway to the shop, watching Elicia chatting away to the potter, he nodded in satisfaction. “Yeah, I am.”

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #snap shots

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come-join-themurder · 7 years

Photo

“Birthday Sex”

Tig Trager x Reader (GIF isn’t mine)

SMUT!!!!

This is for you doll @mjcumberbatch Happy (early) Birthday!

______________________________

[Your Perspective]

“Your birthday is coming up…” he trailed off as he held the phone to his ear.

“Yes it is,” you smiled in response, “but you know I’m not big about birthdays Filip.” You could tell by how awkwardly he brought up the subject that he had something in mind. You were hoping he’d come back to Easterhouse to visit the family, but you knew that was a long shot. Filip hadn’t been back since he left as a teen. You were the only family he was even close to anymore. The rest had labeled him a black sheep and moved on with their lives without him.

“So why don’t ye come out here an’ spend your birthday in California?”

You saw that request coming from a mile away, “I don’t know Filip I–” “–Lass you haven’t visited in years. Me an’ the guys, we all miss you… Tig too,” he added, causing you to blush. There was a teasing tone in his voice that antagonized you. Chibs knew you had a small crush on his outlaw brother, but he also knew, unbeknownst to you, that Tig had grown fond of you the last time you visited on your birthday four years ago.

“Alright, fine,” you spoke finally, feigning annoyance, “I’ll come. I’ll text you my flight details when I know them.” “I’ll be waiting at the airport for you when you land, lass,” Chibs smiled and hung up the phone, pushing away from the desk in the office at TM and walking out into the garage where Tig, Bobby, Opie, Clay and Jax were all working on bikes and cars for customers. “Just got off the phone with (Y/N)…” Chibs paused as he saw everyone’s attention turn to him, but none’s head whipped around quicker at the mention of your name than Tig Trager. Chibs grinned, “…She’ll be joinin’ us in Charming for her birthday next week.” “That’s really good, brother,” Clay smiled, patting the Scotsman on the back, “It’ll do you good to have your family around for a little while.” “Yeah…” he smiled back, looking across the garage at Tig whose mouth was agape as he stared off into space. Chibs didn’t know what it was about his younger cousin that made Tig so nervous, but it was entertaining to watch.

~+~

[Tig’s Perspective]

“Where’s Chibby going?” Tig asked Bobby as the two watched Chibs clock out from the garage. “(Y/N)’s plane lands in 2 hours, he’s getting the van and taking it up to the airport pick her up,” Bobby replied. He, too, knew about Tig’s schoolboy infatuation with Chibs’ younger family member. “Well, uh, you think he needs help?” “Wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Bobby nudged Tig who took off in a slow jog over to his brother. “H-hey man where’ya goin?” Tig questioned as he caught up to Chibs. “Airport,” was Chibs’ one syllable response as he kept walking. “Oh ok…” Tig trailed off and stopped walking, leaving Chibs to head towards the van alone. “You can come too if you want,” Chibs called over his shoulder to Tig who perked up and continued following Chibs to the van, “Thanks man,” Tig smiled as they headed out to Oakland to pick up (Y/N).

~+~ [Your Perspective]

You picked up your luggage and headed out to the pickup/drop off area, having already called Filip from the plane to let him know you had landed before you deboarded, you knew he was out in the pick up lane waiting for you. What you didn’t expect was that Alexander Trager was also waiting for you.

Shit, you thought, I’ve just flown thousands of miles and I look terrible.

This wasn’t how you wanted to be dressed when you met Tig again. You silently cursed Chibs for bringing him along as you plastered a smile on your face and walked up to your cousin, giving him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek followed by a hug from Tig. He smelled like grease, whiskey, cologne and leather all mingled together and it was perfect. You held onto him a little longer than you normally would with a guy you’d only met twice before, but he didn’t seem to notice as you pulled away and took a deep breath, “So where to now?”

“Figured you’d want to rest and wash up, so I was thinking of heading to the hotel,” Chibs answered and you nodded, “Sounds perfect!”

The hotel was small, but nice, and as you pulled up, Tig leaned up between the two front seats from the back, “So your birthday is tomorrow, right?” he asked, smiling charmingly at you. “Yeah I am getting quite old,” you replied, flashing a smile back. “At least you’re not my age,” Chibs joked, and you scoffed in response, “I’m not THAT much younger than you, Filip!” “Aye, it makes a difference,” he assured you as he put the van in park and the two of your got out of the van and walked to the back where Tig was, pulling your things out already. “D’you need help up?” Tig asked, one of your bags was in his hand but you took it from him gently, “I think I can handle it, but thanks,” you winked and gave Filip another kiss on the cheek, thanking the two of them for picking you up before walking towards the building to check in. “By the way,” Chibs yelled to you, “Gemma’s cooking tonight we’re all going to her place for dinner. I’ll pick ya up at seven!”

You gave him a thumbs up before disappearing out of sight.

Dinner was amazing. Gemma was a great cook, Chibs’ biker brothers were hilarious and you enjoyed hearing their conversations and all the competing they do with one another. From little things like who can change out brake pads the fastest to bigger things like who gets the hottest girlfriends, these guys competed on every level. Luckily, you were sat between Filip and Tig, your two favorite guys, and they were doing a great job of keeping you entertained.

~+~ [Tig’s Perspective]

“I’m telling ya,” Tig began as he stretched his arm out and across the top of your seatback, looking down the table at the rest of his friends, “The only reason I haven’t settled down is because I haven’t found the right one yet, but that doesn’t mean I don’t mop the ground with all you guys when it comes to who pulls the hottest broads. Seriously.” A chorus of laughter erupted from the table, “Yeah like too tall tammy,” Juice giggled and Tig groaned, “C’mon! That was my first time trying peyote I thought she was regular sized,” Tig defended. “What was your excuse for bedding manly Monica then?” Clay asked seriously, to which the table giggled and laughed some more. “You know what, fuck you guys.” Tig growled and stood up from the table, throwing his napkin on his plate and heading out to the back patio. “Aww c’mon Tiggy we’re just havin’ a bit of fun!” Chibs called after him as he bit into a dinner roll, but Tig didn’t turn around. Chibs knew the teasing wasn’t what bothered Tig, it was making a mockery of him in front of (Y/N) that had actually pissed him off.

~+~

[Your Perspective]

After several minutes had passed, and the conversation had moved on to other competitions, you decided to check on the dark-haired biker. It seemed nobody else was going to. You stepped outside and the cool night air nipped at you as you folded your arms across your chest and approached him. “You alright?” You asked, startling him from what seemed like deep thought, “Wha–Oh. Yeah… I’m good, doll,” he faked a smile and took a drag of his already-lit cigarette. You knew he was lying but you could tell he wasn’t the type to open up when pushed so you let it be. “I’m getting kind of tired,” you sighed, “Jetlagged maybe, or I’m still on Scotland time,” you laughed and he chuckled politely, “Do you think you could give me a lift home?” Tig hesitated to answer and you suddenly felt embarrassed for asking, “I’m sorry. It’s not your job to be my chauffeur I know that I’ll just ask–” “–I’d love to, darlin’,” he smiled. The smile looked genuine this time, but it was covering something else, frustration, determination, you weren’t sure. Ashing out his cigarette in the flowerbed below and taking your hand, much to your surprise, he lead you around the front to his bike.

As he pulled up outside, you took off the helmet he gave you and handed it to him. He put it on his own head and buckled it, resting his hand on his handlebars once he was done and looking at you. You were extremely nervous. As much as you wanted to invite him up, you also didn’t want him to think of you as loose. You had no idea how to play it, but you weren’t going to be in Charming forever and this guy was the object of all of your fantasies since you first met him when you were a teenager.

“Did you want to come up for a drink?” you asked, hoping he took the hint and accepted.

~+~

[Tig’s Perspective] Does she really mean a drink, Tig thought to himself when you asked him the question, or does she mean… He didn’t know if your invite had a veiled meaning, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself so he decided he’d play it cool and take the offer at face value: You asked if he wanted a drink. “I’ve got some things I gotta do tonight, doll,” he answered, “Can I take a rain check?” he asked instead. At least this way he didn’t seem uninterested completely, but it kept him from seeming like a dick if you were honestly just inviting him for a night cap. “S-sure…” you trailed off, “If you change your mind i’m in 221,” you smiled, “Thanks for the ride!” “Anytime.” Tig winked and revved his engine, as you took a couple steps back and he shifted it into gear.

~+~

[Your Perspective]

You watched as he roared away before retiring to your room for the night and shooting Chibs a message to let him know you were back at the hotel safely. It was barely 10 o’clock when you made it up to your room so you settled for a shower and some light reading while you began to wind down. Eventually you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up to a knock on your hotel door, and looked over to see if anyone had called you but nobody had. It was also just after midnight, so you were sure that someone had knocked on your door by accident but you decided to check it out anyway. You crept to the peep hole and looked out, surprised to see a familiar face. You opened the door to find Tig standing there leaning against the door frame. He looked conflicted, stressed, so you didn’t mention the time, you just stood there silently for a moment until he locked eyes with you and spoke, “I’ll have that drink now,” he spoke seriously as he waited to be let inside. “Fuck the drink,” you huffed stepping to him in the threshold and grabbing him by the collar, kissing him harshly as he began to kiss you back.

Tig walked you back into your hotel room and shut the door behind him, turning you around, pressing you against the back of the door and bracing himself with his palms flat against the door frame. Your hands were still affixed to his collar when he pulled away from your lips and moved down to your neck, tasting as much of your skin as he could and moving his hands down to hold your hips. All of his movements were rushed, hurried, and as if he was afraid you would stop him at any moment and make him leave. “Tig,” you breathed, causing him to snap his head up to look at you, “Come here,” you took his hand, leading him to your bed as his face immediately washed over with relief. You sat on the bed and he took his kutte off, setting it down and sitting beside you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb traced across your skin. He began to unbuckle his belt and your hands went to work on his shirt, unbuttoning it and sliding it off as he finished with his belt and fly and took off his jeans and boots. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, revealing your bare chest underneath before he kissed you again. You stood from your position beside him on the bed and slid off your bottoms, and as the fabric of your panties hit the floor, you moved to stand in front of him. ~+~

[Tig’s Perspective]

Tig looked up at you with fire in his eyes. He had never looked at anyone the way he looked at you as he leaned forward and took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around and sucking on the sensitive skin. His arms wrapped around you, running his fingers up your back and pulling you into his lap as he leaned back onto the bed, hauling you down and grinding his hips up against your center as he stroked your back, holding you tightly.

With a quick jerk of his body he was on top of you, his boxers were tight over his erection which was pressed against your pelvis as he attacked your lips again, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth, gripping the sheets on either side of your head in his fists. You trailed your hands down his chest to his bulge and he groaned into your mouth as you stroked him up and down.

“Take these off,” you half-asked, half-commanded to which he obliged, lifting himself up and pulling them down to kick them off.

“I’ve wanted this for so long (Y/N),” he breathed into your ear as he rubbed himself against your center and trailed a hand down your torso to stroke your wet, hot, core.

“Mmm… Me too, Tig,” you moaned. “Fuck, doll!” he growled, muffled, against your neck, “I want you so bad.”

“Take me,” was your last response before he palmed his cock and slid inside you, a gasp resonating from each of your throats.

~+~

[Your Perspective]

Tig entered you and it was like everything in your life that you ever wanted or needed had moved back a row. You knew immediately that you were meant to be together, he was the missing piece to your jigsaw puzzle. When he began thrusting, the moment of epiphany faded and you snapped back to reality, the reality being that he felt amazing inside you. He was hitting all the right spots in a way that only a man with his experience could. You wrapped your arms around him, holding tightly to his back and tossing your head back. As he thrusted into you, you rolled your hips in sync with his motions, causing him to lean forward and bite down on your shoulder to suppress a moan. When you dug your nails into his shoulder blades, he growled, moving his hands up to the headboard and gripping it for leverage. The new position made him able to pound into you harder, and he used it to his advantage, making you moan loudly, scratching his back deeper. “That’s it baby,” he coaxed you, “Tell me how much you like this dick.” “Mmm, Tig!” “Ohh yeah, (Y/N), I love it when you moan my name, doll,” he groaned as he pounded into you harder. You could feel your orgasm approaching as he fucked you closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m about to cum,” you gasped, your hands shooting from his back to the sheets, gripping them until your knuckles turned white. “Cum for me baby, come on, cum for me,” he begged you, his breathing was labored and told you that his climax was close as well. You wrapped your fingers around the back of his head, gripping his curly dark hair tightly and wrenching his face down to yours as you kissed him roughly. The two of you came together, your lips barely touching as you stared into each other’s eyes.

You woke up to the tone of your phone ringing and realized you were enveloped in a pair of strong arms. You smiled, remembering the events of the night before and ignoring the phone to roll over and face the man in your bed. His eyes were still closed, breathing deeply, as you placed a soft kiss against his lips, followed by a deeper, longer one. He shifted a bit and started kissing you back, squeezing you tightly against him and smiling against your lips before he pulled back and opened his eyes.

“G’mornin,” you whispered matching his smile with your own. “Happy Birthday, doll. I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me when you woke up,” Tig responded, throwing you off a bit. You didn’t know what to say and he knew it, so he spoke again, “I just haven’t woke up too many mornings to see a woman close to as beautiful as you, and when I did, they weren’t very happy to see me.” “Is that what last night was about?” You asked, suddenly understanding, “You’re afraid of rejection?” You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked down at him as he looked back at you. He didn’t answer you, he didn’t have to, you knew that’s what it was. You smiled, “Big bad Tigger was afraid little (Y/N) was going to turn him down, even though she has had feelings for him since the first time she met him. That’s what you’re telling me?” Tig’s eyes lit up upon hearing your confession, his nose crinkled as he smiled and pulled you to lay across his chest, “You really have feelings for me?” “Of course, Alex. Do you think I would come all the way out here just to visit Filip?” You rolled your eyes, “Big bad Tigger, more like Big DUMB Tigger,” you joked, tracing patterns along his sternum as he ran his hands up and down your arms and shoulders. “So what now? You gotta leave to go home in a couple days and it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

You were interrupted by the ringing of your phone again and you huffed, rolling off of your blue-eyed bedmate to answer it.

~+~

[Tig’s Perspective]

Tig stared at you, taking in the curves of your cheeks, the slope of your nose… he knew he was in trouble when it came to you. He had never felt this way before. He was so lost in his observations of you that he didn’t notice you end the phone call and turn to look at him, “That was Filip,” you told him, “He wanted to know what my plans were for the day…” you trailed off, looking at Tig.

“Well…” he stood up, the sheets falling off of his naked frame as he lifted his kutte and dug in a pocket, concealing something in his fist and sitting back on the bed, “If I give you your present, will you think about including me in your plan?” Tig smiled triumphantly, sitting up and leaning towards you to kiss your bare shoulder as he opened his hand and a beautiful silver necklace fell to hang from his fingers. Your mouth hung open, “Tig! It’s beautiful. When did you–” “I bought it when Chibs told me you were coming for your birthday, I was just scared to give it to you…” ~+~

[Your Perspective] You kissed him sweetly, “Well I love it,” you said as your pulled away and put it on. Tig traced the chain with his forefinger, studying it against your skin, “So what about those plans?” he asked.

“You want me to tell my cousin that I have plans with you? He will know we slept together.” “I know,” Tig grinned again, “I want him to know,” he kissed your collarbone, “I want everyone to know,” he moved to your neck. “You mean…?” You didn’t get to finish your question because he had already answered, “Yes.” “But what about–” “We can figure anything else out later, doll. I want you to be my girl. And I want to make sure my girl has a good birthday.” You laughed as he pulled you to him and kissed you, leaning into you and turning you so you were on your back. You tangled your fingers in his curls as he assaulted your neck murmuring against your skin, “Now relax and get ready for your present,” he growled and you chuckled. “But Tig you already gave me a present… I need to call Filip back and tell him I have plans…” You protested to no avail as he continued to trail kisses down your torso towards your pelvis.

Happy Birthday To You.

#tig trager #tig #tig imagine #tig smut #tig trager imagine #tig trager smut #alexander trager #alex trager #soa #soa imagine #soa smut #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy smut #happy birthday imagine #chibs telford

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voidsettle · 6 years

Text

The Byzantian Istanbul

April 2018

The trip promised to be weird from the very start. My other friend just coming back from Istanbul. People I wouldn't dare imagine together hopping on board the company. Health issues I kept from my last trip, meddling with my walking ambitions. It all drowned in sweet black tea between the minaret spires.

Suleymaniye Mosque, medrese, view on Bosphorus

Immersing Quaint Serenity

The older I get, the more inventive ways of getting to the final destination I develop. This time I experienced flying from a different city, with additional thrills of leaving home early the day before, spending the night at a friend's place and meeting half of my company at the airport (who took the train from Kiev to Kharkiv).

I must admit I thoroughly hate airplanes. My vestibular apparatus gives me the chills every time we take off - and especially as we land. I still have nightmares about a flight to Georgia, when our plane was caught in a storm and we couldn't land for nearly an hour, finally forcing the crew to fly us to Tbilisi instead of Kutaisi. What a ride that was!

Well, this one was better, though not by much. Naturally, having a sleepless night before the flight was a bad idea - but neither me nor my mom could resist the temptation. The friend who sheltered us for the night has the most peculiar hobby among all of my acquaintances (and that including a colleague who's into clay crafting and my own fascination with quantum mechanics): she collects, restores and renews vintage-to-antique dolls.

By the end of her tour over quite an impressive collection we felt as though we got our share of wonder for the trip. Next morning, getting up was an experience straight from hell - I muttered and grumbled through my morning coffee. Added my inability to walk properly and a severe cold I was holding back, Istanbul wasn't the experience I was looking for.

That is, until we finally arrived, left our bags and left for a late afternoon walk. The charm of Istanbul captures you even before you see its magnificent sights. It's not the modern gloss that gets your attention first, nor the minarets that you definitely use for locating yourself in a big city, neither the Roman aqueduct subtly leading your gaze to the historic downtown. It all starts with the small street vendors selling fruits and even smaller cafes that serve almost exclusively coffee in tiny porcelain cups. I have rarely seen women in such street cafes; it's mostly reserved for older men who spend their time over steaming cups, cigarettes and small talk.

For Turkish coffee, finely ground beans are of utmost importance - and no filtering! Coffee is served with the sediment, and it is traditionally strong. Turkish coffee is served in kahve finjanı, a tiny porcelain cup usually standing in an intricate metal holder. A nice souvenir from Istanbul for coffee maniacs like myself.

Suleymaniye Mosque, Istanbul

But, of course, there is this unique feel about the Turkish architecture and urban planning. Walking down the hill, Istanbul is just a large bustling city, but the enclosed gardens beside the mosques give off the authentic serene atmosphere perfect for silent contemplation. Suleymaniye mosque is probably the most prominent for catching the glimpse of how it used to be couple hundred years ago, with the meditatively slow pace of life and dignified discussions among the pundits. I believe that's the reason why, for me, the cascading roofs of Suleymaniye medrese most associate with the Muslim Istanbul.

The Three Circles of Constantinople

Hagia Sofia, Istanbul

Istanbul is one of those cities that possess a complicated character reflecting their long influential history. Starting as the city of Constantine, the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire, it was succeeded by Ottomans and then transformed into a modern city bearing along the invasive European influences. Consequently the city is built in circles that show its growth through the ages.

The first circle is based around Hagia Sofia, the former Orthodox Christian cathedral turned mosque that bears the title of the epitome of Byzantine architecture. Its large dome is a marvel in itself - looking up at it from the ground, it's hard to wrap your head around the fact that it was built in 6 AD. The preserved frescoes and modern art installation add to the massive charm of Hagia Sofia. But what impressed me most were the reared stone floors. The slabs are uneven and shiny from the many centuries of use, and parts of them sink in a way that make our anxiety peak. Despite the massive size, it gives the thrilling sensation that the whole construction can skid and slump if you set your foot in the wrong place.

Hagia Irene, Constantinople

Beside Hagia Sofia, there's another monument of the antique Byzantine Empire, Basilica Cictern. The vast underground space used for storing water delivered via Valens Aqueduct was an important part of the city's infrastructure, and today is a curious, moist and cool place to visit. Add the former hippodrome before the Blue Mosque and Hagia Irene near Topkapı Palace, and you have the first circle of Constantinople.

Visiting Hagia Irene wasn't initially on my must-see list, but I sure as hell don't regret it. Lacking the crowds of Hagia Sofia (oh, the lines!), this cathedral preserves the unique spirit of solemn tranquility that you get from Roman architecture - only this one is clearly Byzantine. The amphitheater located in the apsis at the far end of the nave gives off such strong ancient vibes that it feels like a lost link between Roman and Romanesque architectural styles.

Second circle of Istanbul clearly dates to the Ottoman empires and gives the city its obviously Muslim appearance. The muezzins will wake you up early in the morning if you're a light sleeper. The minarets are useful to guide your way through the city - and also to tell the mosques apart.

Blue Mosque has 6 minarets, an unprecedented case; Hagia Sofia proudly bears 4, and most of the smaller mosques have 2.

The palaces of Topkapı and Dolmabahce offer a glimpse into the life of Ottoman royalty. Personally, I was fascinated by the famous Iznik tiles and liked the seral chambers, but the Topkapı Palace left me unimpressed for the most part. But the Turkish bazaar is a cultural experience not to miss: an idiosyncratic trading tradition with impressive set of goods from spices (go to Egyptian Bazaar near New Mosque) to sweets and from clothes to dinnerware. The Grand Bazaar that reflects its name spectacularly covers not just several blocks but is a city in itself. You can easily get lost in the winding labyrinth of narrow streets running up and down, turning, encircling and closing in dead ends.

Dowager Queen chambers, seral, Topkapı Palace

And then there's the final, third circle of Istanbul that defines the city as one of the modern centers of culture and trade. This one is vast and encompasses both European and Asian parts of the city, spanning across Boshoprus.

Galata Tower, Istanbul

This part of Istanbul was pure delight. It was fun riding one of the oldest subways in the world. It's short, and it used to be taken uphill by the horses. Under the ground. How is that not amazing. And then there's a historic tram that goes all the way along Istiklal Caddesi (basically Independence Avenue) - unfortunately, due to the crowds, the didn't get to ride that one.

The street itself is of huge interest - aside from the many, many shops, boutiques and cafes of all sorts, it also has European architecture and even churches and cathedrals due to the fact that this part of the city was the location of European trading districts. I fancied the Church of Saint Anthony of Padua due to its location and a curious twisted iron monument of Christ on the cross at the entrance.

As this part of Istanbul is situated on a steep hill, the streets are peculiar and distinct. The branching narrow streets up and down the hill open your eyes to shopping galleries and cozy cafes with pacifying views over the Bosphorus neck. But if there's no time to spend, the Galata Tower is that one site to look for.

Tulips, Tea and the Big Water

Tulips in Fatih, Istanbul

Part of the reason why we chose April to visit Istanbul was due to the tulip irruption the city is famous for. There is something about this simple flower that grand empires just can't resist.

Even tea in Istanbul is traditionally served in small glasses of a rather specific form that reminds a tulip.

Flowers in April, even if its windy and grey, is exactly the reminder of a close spring that revives the senses after a long winter dream. Tulips can be found throughout the city at this time of year, but the Gülhane Park is the real deal. Whatever color you think, there are tulips of that and its shades, at times mixed with others. The lakes of tender blue grape hyacinth intermingle with the vast seas of heavy-headed roses, gentle slopes covered in multicolored breath of spring. Due to health condition and the fact we've been walking the whole day, I could barely stand on my feet, which didn't stop me from anchoring to my friends and limping along the alleys with tears of wonder in my eyes. Or maybe that was the wind in my face.

Seeing all we came to see and having our last evening in Istanbul, there was one last combo to try, Bosphorus and black tea. As major cities standing on water tend to do at the lack of bridges, Istanbul offers half-touristy water transport that takes you on a short trip upstream the Bosphorus. It makes stops along the way, serving in part as public transport, and also takes you from the Western, European to Eastern, Asian part of the city. But by far the best part of these boats is that they serve tea along the way. You could find no public more appreciative than us, cold and tired after a long chilly walk. I literally lost count of the hot cups I had. Along with beautiful skies reflected in the restless waters, the night lights of the big city and the glimpses of the sites we didn't have time to visit (like eerily lit Bosphorus Bridge, Maiden's Tower surrounded by waves and Rumeli Hisarı fortress cascading down the hill), it's one of the warmest memories I have from Istanbul.

Rumeli Hisarı (Boğazkesen Castle) fortress on the bank of Bosphorus

What to see:

Valens Aqueduct

Suleymaniye Mosque and Medresesi

New Mosque

Egyptian (Spice) Bazaar

Grand Bazaar

Blue Mosque

Hagia Sofia

Basilica Cictern

Gülhane Park

Hagia Irene

Topkapı Palace

Istiklal Caddesi

Galata Tower

Church of Saint Anthony of Padua

What to eat:

Turkish coffee

tea (black and sweet)

sweets (honeyed baklava and rahat lokum)

kebap (grilled meat in whatever way you can imagine)

döner (specialty fish, fresh from Bosphorus)

bulgur pilavı (oatmeal side dish)

cacık (fresh cucumbers side dish)

In short

The Blue Mosque was under reconstruction; pity

The ambiguous tripartite spirit of Istanbul is hard to grasp; but as you learn to know the city, it grows on you, and later you start seeing its traces in places throughout the world. The city uniting West and East, the city of contrasts, the city of reference. Istanbul is surprisingly young for the elder of its age.

#istanbul #turkey

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justjessame · 4 years

Text

Double Shot Chapter 23

“I know,” now, I added, starting the car and pulling onto the street. And I hoped he knew how much I loved having him with me.

The house I grew up in looked more like a doll house than my memory bank allowed it to. In fact, if someone asked me to describe it prior to us pulling up in front, I might have created a word image that was a cross between the Addam’s family house and Dracula’s castle. Good times, good times.

“Char?” Clay’s voice startled me, so lost in the past that I’d forgotten him. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.” My voice was barely a whisper, I felt scared that I’d pop the bubble of nostalgia, the feeling that she was still here, still just out of sight felt so real to me.

“Takes talent to make a functioning noose out of floss, Char,” he came further into the room and took a look around. “This house is something else.”

“This house is a lie,” I amended. “It’s gorgeous, it just doesn’t-” I sighed. Did I want it?

I tipped my head back and raised an eyebrow. His head lowered to mine and as his mouth met mine I smiled into his kiss thinking, perhaps, just perhaps, the house wasn’t ALL bad

#Franklin Clay x OFC #The Losers (2010)#alternative universe #mention of smut

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fandomlife-giver · 8 years

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His Maid, However You Please: 2

Summary: Beauty is a dangerous quality to possess. There will always be those who wish to steal it away.

Pairings: Eventual Sebastian x Demon!reader

@wintersdoll

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 2857

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"You again!" Ciel sneered.

"A deadly efficient butler—that's me!" Grell posed and stuck his tongue out.

Ciel looked away from him as Grell shrugged. "Though I do find myself masterless at the moment." He jumped off the roof and landed before Ciel. "After the Madam Red incident, I was temporarily demoted. And now, I only get the lowliest of jobs. That brute Will told me I wouldn't get my old post back until I collected some truly troublesome souls. That rotten sadist!"

He crossed his arms and tapped his chin in thought. "Although I must confess, I like rotten fruit every now and then." He shuddered in delight. "And those cold, bruting eyes of his sure keep me warm enough on a freezing night!"

That was when he looked down and noticed Pluto, obediently sitting next to Ciel. "And whose this wild one? He's a cutie." He glanced over at Ciel, who looked as if ready to attack instead of Pluto.

Grell tilted his head. "Oh dear. You aren't considering avenging your beloved aunt Red, are you? I mean that would just be silly."

"You shut up!"

"Now, now, be nice. I don't see Bassy or N/N anywhere. What could a brat like you do without them?"

"Be quiet!"

Pluto then went forward and growled at Grell, who looked at him with widened eyes. "Oh, is he your protector for the evening?" He looked away and mumbled to himself. "Why does this little kid get all the good-looking men?"

*bark* Pluto charged forward, which made Grell hug himself. "Ooh, he's going to attack me!" He opened his arms to him. "Oh, how exciting! I'm all yours, but please be gentle-" It was only when Ciel ran passed him did he notice Pluto had charged passed him and towards another direction. "Hey! What am I—chopped liver?!"

Ciel ran after Pluto, until he stopped upon seeing Pluto was in front of a doll shop, with a familiar looking doll on display with curly blonde hair, green eyes and a pink dress.

"Lizzie!" He went to go towards it, but stopped once he noticed Grell beside him reading a book.

"Look what we have here. Number 493 on the To-Die-list: butler and puppeteer to the house of Mandalay." He looked up at the shop. "A Mr. Drossel Keinz."

*smash* *bark* *bark*

Ciel looked back, to see Pluto had jumped through the window then proceeded to run to the building and throw the door open. Pluto was crouched down with the doll in his mouth.

Pluto ran to Ciel as he crouched down and took the doll from him. The first thing Ciel noticed was the orange bow wrapped around the doll. The bow Lizzie had been wearing as a barrete earlier. Lizzie

He looked around and noticed the back door was open. They all ran out the door and stopped at the site of a large, old castle. Lizzie's somewhere in that mansion. I know it.

"Goodness, not exactly the most welcoming of places is it?" Grell stepped forward and looked up at it with a hand on his hip.

Ciel looked over at Grell. This is the man who killed Madam Red. But...I need him. Memories of Lizzie flashed through his mind as he looked down.

"Fine, Grell. Come in with me."

"Huh?" Grell looked over at him in surprise.

"Protect me and I'll grant a request."

He scoffed. "How insulting. Earl or not, you think I am the type of woman you can just buy with money-"

"I'll give you Sebastian for a day and you can do whatever you want with him." He looked up at Grell with a smirk.

Grell stopped and tapped his chin. "Sebastian-and whatever I want to do?" He grinned and beamed down at Ciel. "Even kissing?!"

Ciel shrugged. "If that's what you want."

Grell gasped. "Does that mean I can use tongue?!"

A smirk crawled up Ciel's face. "Do anything you please with him."

Grell almost fainted from his fan-girling, but then he stopped and thought about something. "I wonder—could this affect dear N/N in any way?"

Ciel chuckled. "No need to worry about Y/N. She hates him."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Oh please, she barely let's him in the same room with her, let alone something as intimate as kissing. It really is a wonder how they get anything done together."

Grell squealed in excitement. "Its an offer I couldn't possible refuse! I'm deadly serious!" He posed (again)

. . .

*slam* Grell held the main doors open. "All right, here we go! ...eh?" His smile dropped as they all stared at the life-size realistic girl doll standing on a pedestal in the center of the room, her eyes cast downwards, staring into nothingness.

They ran forwards and stopped in front of her, but a certain blue diamond had caught the reaper's eye. "Hey, look. That ring's a lot like yours, isn't it?" Ciel looked down at the familiar blue ring upon the girls right thumb.

The hope diamond? He looked closely at her face. This doll looks like...

He thought back to the photo of the girl that came with the queens letter.

Impossible! The girl's eyes rolled down and her arm suddenly reached out and grabbed his throat. He put a hand over hers, but she was too strong. In a desperate attempt, he looked over at Pluto. "H-help, Pluto!"

Unfortunately, Pluto was a little busy playing with his new toy, one of the small dolls. "You stupid useless mongrel!"

A glass bulb suddenly fell and hit her on the head, which made her release her grip on Ciel and make him fall to the ground. "Now, why would you call the puppy—when you should be calling me?"

He looked up at the red grim reaper that was standing on the chandelier. "Grell!"

He rubbed his hands together. "As a reaper, I have all the tools needed for harvesting a soul." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two pairs of scissors. "My death scythe!"

Ciel stood up and looked at him in confusion. "Um, but aren't those just... scissors?"

Grell flailed his arms around. "What do you want me to do?! Will took away my personally modified death scythe! I miss it so much!" He stopped and grinned. "I'll show you! I'll snip her into bits!" He leaped off the chandelier.

Ciel held up a hand. "Hold on! Don't hurt her! She isn't actually a doll!"

"Death! Welcome to the after life!" He soared down and sliced her neck as she approached Ciel, then landed on the ground in front of him.

Ciel ran to the girl as she fell, but stopped as saw dust poured out of her neck. "Maybe she was a doll after all."

♪ Wood and clay will wash away, wash away, wash away♪

They both looked to the double doors as they opened up and out stepped a man with light orange hair that was cut in flares, tossed aside from his eyes, and bangs that reached his chin. His eyes looked as if they were made of glass, being amethyst and stir emotionless. He wore a blue and pink eye shadow to accentuate, as well as, below his right eye, was painted a blue fleur-de-lis.

His attire consisted of a blue tailcoat, gold piping and a red ribbon tied in a bow around his neck, and a black top hat decorated with a red ribbon and two black feathers. Along with short black pants, white gloves, knee high black-white striped socks, and black boots with gold buttons.

His face was illuminated by the candelabra in his hand. "What a useless doll. She was another failure." He walked forward and stopped a few feet from them. "So then, I thought to myself: In order to succeed, I must make them considerably stronger than this."

Ciel rose up and watched him as he raised his arm and moved it to the lyrics. ♪ Build it up with iron and steel, iron and steel, iron and steel♪ ♪ Build it up with iron and steel, my fair lady♪ From the shadows he came from, several life-size doll girls came out and stopped in front of the ginger. He then backed away and disappeared back into the darkness.

Ciel looked at all of their faces. "I've seen them before."

Grell snipped his scissors. "I'm not going to let anyone take away my day with dear sweet Bassy!" He charged forward, with Ciel once again putting a hand up.

"Hold on, Grell—wait!"

"Take this, dolls!" He went towards one of the girls, who blocked him, which made him fall back. He looked at her with wide eyes. "I-I couldn't cut them!"

The skin that had covered the girl's hands was gone, exposing her steel hands. They all started to march towards them.

"Grell, this is an order! You and Pluto—" Who was still playing with his toy in the corner. "—stay here and keep the dolls occupied. Play with them...for as long as it takes."

Grell liked back at him in fear. "Huh?"

Ciel took out the ring that had been on the first doll's finger and clenched his fist around it.

A doll had soared towards Grell, who moved back in time, making her steel hand stab the ground where he was. He looked to the side when Ciel ran past them. "You're going to leave me here?! Not very human of you!"

"I'm the inhuman one?" Ciel replied as he ran out of the room.

The dolls look just like the pictures of the kidnapped girls. No, the dolls are the girls. That means...Lizzie... He thought as he ran up the flight of stairs and into the main ballroom.

"Ciel Phantomhive." Ciel stopped in the center of the room and looked up at the ginger that sat up on the balcony, watching him. "You are indeed a beautiful specimen. I'll have to make you into a doll worthy of such exquisite beauty."

Ciel turned and gazed up at him. "What have you done with Elizabeth?"

The ginger seemed to ignore him and only pulled his hat over his eyes. "Now, what material shall we use for you? Clay will wash away too easily, but iron is far too crude for you."

Ciel clenched his teeth in both anger and annoyance as the ginger raised his hat to look directly at Ciel. "So then, I thought to myself-" Ciel didn't wait for him to finish as he kept running, until he left the room.

The ginger rose his hands and conducted the lyrics. ♪ Build it up with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold♪

Ciel opened the door to find himself in a black room with white painted masks mounted on the walls. Then, the masks opened their mouths and sang in a perfect harmony.

♪ Build it up with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold♪ ♪Build it up with silver and gold, my fair lady♪

Ciel covered his ears and kept running as the singing continued.

♪ Build it up with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold♪ ♪Build it up with silver and gold, my fair lady♪

The voices seemed to grow louder as he ran up a flight of stairs and into another room, slamming the door behind him.

He was panting as he leaned his back against the door. But when he caught his breath, his eyes widened at the familiar symbol that made up the floor. The symbol that forever left his mark on him.

"That day...my birthday...my life changed forever. As long as I live, I will never know a happy birthday again." His eyes narrowed. "Never!"

"Truly master, nothing good ever happens on your birthday, does it?"

Ciel froze at the familiar female voice and turned towards the open window. His eyes widened at the two shadowy silhouettes behind the curtain that was currently blowing inside.

"You lost your parents, your home, and this time, you stand to lose Lady Elizabeth." The curtain blew to the side, which revealed you and Sebastian sitting on the window seal with your legs crossed.

Ciel sneered at the both you, but mostly at the person who had just spoken. "Y/N!"

You were both silent, but he only seemed to get angrier. "Take that back, right now."

You tilted your head. "What do you mean?"

He stepped forward and clenched his teeth. "I won't let you taunt me!"

You smiled and looked down. "Master, earlier you had informed me you had some business to take care of. This "business" of yours—did it include endangering yourself? In a misguided effort to rewrite the past, I mean." You looked up at him knowingly, but he only continued to coldly glare at you. You softly chuckled.

Sebastian outstretched his hand. "Do you remember what you said at the frost fair? About your body? About your ring?" When Ciel didn't respond, he continued. "What you said—was both had been shattered and reborn. And that you no longer had any fear of being broken, yourself."

"I remember. You don't need to remind me." Sebastian smirked at the harshness in Ciel's voice.

♪Build it up with iron and steel, iron and steel, iron and steel♪

You looked at Ciel curiously as he turned and faced the double doors. Seconds later, they opened and an entire group of girl dolls entered in.

♪Build it up with iron and steel, my fair lady♪

Ciel's eye widened. "They defeated Grell."

You jumped off the ledge and walked over to them, paying close attention to the music the dolls seemed to be moving to. "Interesting. They appear to be controlled by the singing of that song."

If the lyrics are build it up with iron and steel, that seems to give them strength to move. But, if you change the lyrics, you could break them...

"In which case..." You folded your hands over your stomach. ♪ Iron and steel will bend and bow♪

Ciel looked up at you in surprise. ♪ bend and bow, bend and bow♪ The music ceased, along with the dolls, who began to move their heads to your voice. ♪ Iron and steel will bend and bow, my fair lady♪

You jumped up, landed behind one of the dolls and bent her iron neck, which popped open. As you continued, the dolls' metal necks had all bent open. ♪ Iron and steel will bend and bow, bend and bow, bend and bow♪ You outstretched your arms and stood in the middle of them as they all broke.

♪ Iron and steel will bend and bow, my fair lady♪ As you finished the last line, you bowed before Ciel and lowered your head.

He glared down at you. "Who are you calling a lady?" You looked up at him with a smirk and raised an eyebrow.

You then stood up as Sebastian walked over and looked at him. "Now, young master, let us go."

"I think not."

You all turned at the ginger that stood in the doorway, surrounded by the fallen dolls, now carrying a music box, painted with a blue fleur-de-li around his neck that you assumed was the origin of the music.

"Ciel Phantomhive, you are now the property of my master." From the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a vein pop out on Ciel's forehead.

My, someone doesn't look very pleased.

"'Property'? Who do you think you—"

"The proof is there. You're marked by the very ring you're wearing." Ciel stopped and looked down at the ring upon his finger.

"I know what it is. That is a Hope peace. The same gem my master sends as a token to those who are destined to become his dolls."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him. "What master?"

He raised his arms out. "It's been decided—Ciel Phantomhive is going to become a doll. An exquisite doll made of silver and gold."

You gave a smug smile, then raised a finger and moved it to your voice. ♪ Silver and gold will be stolen away, stolen away, stolen away♪

The ginger's eyes widened. "What?" He watched and reached out as Sebastian picked Ciel up bridal style and you both jumped out the window. You, of course, throwing one last smirk over your shoulder before disappearing into the night.

The ginger walked to the center of the room and looked out the window. "He was indeed stolen away." He slumped down to his knees with his head down. "However, I am thinking to myself..."

He looked up. "Ciel Phantomhive will return. Whether he wants to or not."

#sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler x reader #black butler fanfiction

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