#n e ways the painting I started over the weekend is almost done and it’s so hard to find time to just sit down and finish it during the week
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shanghaichicane · 10 months ago
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was debating on calling in tmw and then I checked my teams calendar and saw two important meetings i have to attend why do I keep giving myself up to this company when my internship ends in a month
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h2bakugou · 4 years ago
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Hey, I saw requests were open and got realll excited I wondering if you could do a little angsty/fluffy scenario for Bakugou where it's his s/o's birthday and him and the class starts ignoring her but their actually trying to surprise her?
a/n: hiya!! awe this is super cute and soft, and i think it’s time to break out soft bakugou again, skfjdskf thank you for the request hun!!
summary: with your birthday coming up, you half expected bakugou to at least send you a text but when it seems like the entire class is constantly avoiding you, you can’t help but feel a little bummed out, that is until...
key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk
warnings: swearing, fluff, some angst
word count: 1.8k
;cut for length;
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Waking up the day before your birthday was always a little nerve-wracking. You were a little anxious to see if anyone would notice. It wasn’t like you expected a big grand celebration, but you’d been stressing, even a little upset since you asked Bakugou if he would be free the day of, to which he declined.
You were almost certain he knew of your birthday, you know you've at least mentioned it a few times to him, and his mom, who has stated multiple times that she wants to have you over for cake or whatever you’d prefer the weekend of your birthday.
You were about ready to just go celebrate with Bakugou’s parents since they seemed to be the only ones who remembered, the text that had come through earlier in the morning furthering your proof of Mitsuki’s knowledge on your date of birth.
What stung a little more than the fact that Bakugou hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that your birthday was tomorrow, was the way he didn’t even think it was within the week, or even the month.
You wouldn’t have been nearly as upset if maybe he’d guessed the date wrong, but now things were just starting to make you feel upset.
It didn’t feel like something you should be so upset over. You felt a little selfish, wondering why something so small, such as acknowledgment of your birthday from your boyfriend, was bothering you so much.
Deep down, however, you were excited. For your birthday. And the warm feeling of birthday wishes, from anyone, especially your significant other, always felt ten times warm and fuzzier inside.
But you trudged on, went to class, and tried your best to keep a smile on your face. Even during lunch, Kaminari, who seemed to do nothing but run his mouth, was quiet.
Everyone was. It felt, strange.
And now, you were wondering if maybe it was something deeper. Had something changed during the week? Were you not caught up? Why did it feel like everyone at your lunch table despised you, Bakugou leading the group as he barely even looked at you when he was sitting right beside you.
But when the day was over, you didn’t even bother sitting in the commons until most everyone went to bed. You finished your homework early and sat in your dorm, trying to cheer yourself up. 
And as the clock passed midnight, you wished yourself a lousy happy birthday before tucking yourself into bed.
Nothing prepared you for what was to come when you woke up.
The ear-deafening alarm on your phone woke you up to nothing. A blank screen. One single notification about a software update on your phone. You hadn’t expected your parents to text you this early, they were probably still in bed.
Their messages came in around the time classes started.
But getting dressed and meeting up with Bakugou, you tried your best to hold your head up high.
“Hey ‘Suki.” You smiled, standing beside him as he slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave the dorms to head to school.
“Hey.” Was all he said. You nodded and sighed, staring at the ground.
“Today’s gonna be a fun day, don’t ‘cha think?” You tried to hint at the topic but nothing seemed to give.
“What, you think tests in algebra are fun?” It was like a slash to your heart.
“No, it’s my birthday.” You whispered, gathering your things and walking away, walking straight out the door to the school.
Bakugou’s heart stung. In truth, he’d arranged a whole party for you. Everyone was kind of shocked to hear the words ‘I need your help’ come from his tight lips.
He was flustered and trying not to kill Kaminari who was already making fun of him. But he’d arranged the whole thing, planning it out down to a t.
He’d asked for everyone, especially Kaminari not to say anything about it, and he didn’t think much of it. But now his heart hurt, watching you fight back tears as you felt like he’d forgotten, as if everyone had forgotten.
Bakugou wanted to chase you down, pull you into a kiss, and wish you happy birthday, but he didn’t. The surprise would be coming up soon enough.
Sato presented the cake he’d made the night before and everyone was shocked to see how beautiful it looked.
“Oh, she’s gonna love it!” Mina cheered, helping the class pull out some of the decorations.
They’d be tasked with putting up decorations during lunch and after classes let out when Bakugou would keep you in the library for at least another hour.
Bakugou would make it up to you in the end if you still felt upset. But he was counting on this being the best damn birthday surprise, especially since he thought of it.
You were the first one to class. Slumped in your seat, you noticed Present Mic walk in.
“Happy birthday! Would you like a super awesome birthday track played on my show tonight?” Mic was genuinely surprised to see you break down crying after saying something so happy.
“You’re the first person to tell me happy birthday today.” You wiped your eyes, embarrassed to be sappy in front of your teacher.
“Oh, well then an extra special happy birthday! If you’ve got a song you’d like to play, just stop on by the studio!” Mic smile before exiting. You couldn’t think of a song you’d want to broadcast to the entire school on Mic’s radio show but if something came to mind you might just have to stop by, he seemed like he could be pretty fun to party with, if maybe he weren’t your teacher.
The thought of spending your birthday moping alone with one of your teachers didn’t sound at all like the dream you’d had about today. 
No, you wanted to be hand-in-hand with your boyfriend talking a walk through a pretty park, or stargazing under the night sky, or spending time at some sort of amusement center with your class, having fun.
But as students piled into the classroom, not a single happy birthday left any of them.
Not even Bakugou who now knew.
Getting through class was about as fun as watching paint dry. But when it was done, everyone rushed out, leaving you confused.
“Where is everyone going?” You asked, stopped by Bakugou who’s hand landed over yours on the top of your desk.
“Hell if I know.” He stared down at you, books in hand.
“You don’t wanna go with them?” You looked away, pulling your hand out from under his.
“Don’t tell me you already forgot.” You mumbled. Bakugou tugged you along to the library, silent the entire way.
Sitting across from him, you didn’t even have a clue as to why you were here, but not even thirty minutes later you were being tugged right back to the dorms.
“What’s your problem?” You stop, about three minutes away from the dorm.
“Huh? The fuck are you talkin’ about?” Bakugou stopped, his hands slung in his pants pockets.
“It’s my birthday Katsuki. And I told you that earlier, and you couldn’t even remember for a couple of hours? Am I that forgettable to you?” You sniffled, staring at him as your eyes began to sting with tears.
“I was busy. Had to focus for all that work.”
“And you still avoid saying it! I just, I just wanted to hear it from you. Is it so selfish of me that I just want to hear my boyfriend tell me happy birthday?” You felt like digging a hole and crawling into it. 
With shut eyes, squeezed so tight so you couldn’t see anything, you felt a hand land in yours, fingers intertwining with yours.
A finger under your chin lifted your head up, tear-stained cheeks and all, and a warm pair of cinnamon-tasting lips landed on yours.
“I never forgot, dumbass. I just wanted today to be special.” Bakugou whispered against your lips. Suddenly his free hand landed over your eyes as he tugged you along, your hands now gripping at his arm.
“Hey! Wait, what’s going on?!” You shrieked, confused as you moved unconsciously.
“Just hush for five seconds.” Bakugou sighed, pulling you up to the dorms, shoving you inside.
Removing his hand, Bakugou landed his hand on your shoulder and your eyes opened.
Your once rapidly spinning world was now standing still.
“Happy birthday!!” Your peers cheered. Familiar faces of your classmates, friends from Class 1-B, the Big Three, Eri, even Mr. Aizawa, and All Might were standing there in cheesy party hats.
“Wait...” You sniffled harder, tears now pouring from your eyes.
"Ah, don’t cry, idiot!” Bakugou shook your shoulders from behind you.
“I thought you all forgot! How could I not cry?!” You wiped your eyes with both of your hands, trying not to laugh at yourself.
“You can thank your boyfriend for the party! We were all gonna get you gifts but Bakugou suggested a party!” Kaminari finally blurts out.
“You were all so quiet, because of this party? And it was all your idea?” You turned to Bakugou. He sighed and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.
You gave him a big hug and pressed a cute kiss to his cheek, earning a few ‘awes’ from some of your peers.
“Thank you. Thank you all.” You tried to stop crying, but it felt impossible. Bakugou just nodded, ushering you to go and give some people hugs.
The festivities lasted pretty much all evening, from opening gifts to eating the delicious cake Sato baked for you.
You had a fun time with everyone, and after thanking everyone for the time, you sought after Bakugou on your way back to your dorm with all of your things.
“I’m sorry. For earlier.” You apologized, feeling a bit embarrassed for seemingly going off on him.
“Don’t be. I’m sorry for acting like a dick. I just wanted to surprise you with the best fuckin’ party.” Bakugou’s intentions weren’t vile, and you couldn’t be mad at him. You shook your head and pulled him into your dorm as you set your things down.
“Can we watch a movie together, and cuddle? I think I could take that as an apology.” You smirk.
“I know you’re not mad. But if that’s what you want.” Bakugou gets into his usual position, under your covers, waiting for you to join him. You stood speechless.
“Wh- I went off on you! Of course I was mad- But- I-” You huff and crawl into your bed beside him.
“You’re not still upset is what I’m trying to say, dumbass. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.” Bakugou kissed the top of your head. You snuggled into his side and smiled.
“You really planned that whole party just for me?” You looked up at him as he selected a movie to watch.
“I wouldn’t be the best fucking boyfriend if I didn’t.” He said smugly.
“All for you. And I would do it again.” Bakugou glanced down at you.
“Because you deserve it. I love you.” Bakugou mumbled his ‘I love you’ a little softer, but you heard.
“I love you too.” You lean over and peck his lips, smiling as you snuggle into him, ready to unwind after having so much fun.
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buckyjamess-archive · 4 years ago
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𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼
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chapter seventeen • a/n: thank the sudden burst of inspiration for these chapters coming out so fast. Feedback is appreciated! • wordcount: 1.5k+ • warnings: kids, parenthood, nothing more?
summary
going through  rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.
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F O U R M O N T H S L A T E R
"I'm running a little late today, so I won't be home in time but I asked Steve to be there to open up–" a heavy sigh "for the love of god, try to be nice buck, that's all I'm asking, okay? Also, can you let me know if you're staying for dinner so I can pick up something extra on my way back– thank you. Okay..bye, love you." 
love you. Bucky never expected to keep hearing those words falling from your lips but he does– after every call, every voicemail, every goodbye and see you soon. It makes him smile yet he doesn't deserve those two words. 
you had assured him that morning after that you would always love him no matter what; that he's still the father of yet another gift in your life. The best months of your life after a shit show of years prior– you'd always love Bucky even if he broke your heart in a million pieces, he seemed to be the only one to put it back together..or steve. Steve did a pretty good job of glueing shattered parts of your heart back together.
It angered bucky. Coincidentally; Steve rogers marriage came to an end not two weeks after you'd moved into your own little place with the kids and for a split second Bucky had wondered if nothing ever happened between you and Steve during the time he suspected something. But he believed you. Nothing had happened, never and though Bucky still had to get used to Steve being around more and more each day, he knew he could trust the blonde. 
You seem happy with Steve and unlike you and him, things between Steve went slow, taking time. No moving in three weeks after or by each other's side everyday and you certainly didn't let the man straight into Rosie and JJ's life.
A break..of sorts and maybe he'd gotten his hopes up and believed it actually could get better with time; get back together and be that little family again but as time passed by, it became all too clear– you really didn't plan on getting with him again and Bucky couldn't even blame you.
But you still let him into your life, let him be a part of your life. A part of Rosie's life..of JJ. You let Rosie stay with him whenever she wanted to, let her stay the night or a couple of days until the girl wanted to get back home again. Got to see his son nearly everyday and have him all weekends. 'I'd never take away your kids, buck'
Invitations to stay for dinner or spend the evening or to tag along with one of your day outs– all too eager to spend all the time he could with what once was his family,  even if it meant spending time with Steve.
You still took care of bucky, you still loved bucky because the man who broke your heart made you believe in love again, pulled you out of your shell after years of wanting to be alone. Took care of you during your darkest days, stayed by your side when you needed him the most. Gave Rosie a father figure she never had the opportunity to get, gave you another little soul to take care of. Bucky Barnes stole, bruised and broke your heart and till this day manages to glue it back together. 
It took you a while to forgive him, you're still not sure if you actually have. With the loan you got from your new part time job at the store around the corner, you managed to get yourself a small two bedroom apartment not too far away from bucky– following most classes from your new study online and still being able to be there for your babies; if you were being honest, life was good. 
The family wilson being back in your life being the icing on the cake. Sam being to eager to apologise for everything he'd said and done although 'I told you so'– first flight to Brooklyn and before you knew it the family stood in your apartment, unpacked boxes and painted rooms as if their lives depended on it; be there for you like they were after riley– family. Hailey even spent the better part of her summer in Brooklyn by your side to catch up while in all honesty, she got tired of her dad and needed some time alone.
Life was surprisingly good after everything.
"Dad?" 
Snapping out of his daydream, Bucky looks up and meets the eyes of the little girl in the rear view mirror. The braid bucky had managed to braid that morning an untangled mess, hanging from her shoulder. Left overs of a chocolate cookie still visible on the corner of her mouth. Yellow shirt covered in dirt, paint and what else she'd been playing in and with at school.
Bucky hums and types a quick text to you, telling you he'd stay over for dinner "What's up?" 
"Can alpine come with me sometime?" Rosie asks seriously, a hint of hope in her voice. 
"I wish he could sweetheart but mom's not allowed to have any pets," Bucky chuckles "He misses mommy, right?" 
"I don't know, he can't talk silly." 
"Really then why does alpine talk to me every night?" Bucky quips back "he tells me how you steal the last cookies from the cookie jar." 
"That was JJ– when are mommy, me and JJ coming back home, I want my own bedroom again." 
Bucky clears his throat and quickly gazes to the little boy fast asleep in his carpet on the backseat and back to Rosie, Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. 
You tried to explain it all but the 4 year old never seemed to be able to understand any of it; the two times Christmas, two birthdays not working.
"I don't know princess," Bucky admits "whenever mommy is ready." 
which is never
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Heavy footsteps echo against the grey stone walls of the short hallway,  doors with small white numbers glued onto the wood– Steve isn't much taller or shorter, maybe a bit broader but nothing to be afraid of and yet bucky finds himself tiny next to the man, intimidated to say the least- black leather jacket over a simple grey shirt clung around his biceps, long legs...intimidating but with the softest facial features, christ bucky didn't have any reason to feel this way around someone You deemed important. 
If anything, Steve was as awkward as him.
Twirling around the hallway, her pink and purple colored bag bouncing up and down her back and her messy braid flying through the air, Rosie stills at the sight of the men walking their way 
"You're late." 
"I know, kid," Steve chuckles lowly "tried to be faster." 
"Well, you should be faster next time." Rosie simply states. 
Steve nods his head towards bucky with a slight smile which bucky returns and without another word, Steve twirls the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door with the faint 9 on it. 
Rosie storms in, nearly tripping over her own feet as she pulls her backpack off and throws it in the corner with all other shoes, bags and umbrellas. 
The man nods again as Bucky pushes the stroller with JJ through the door. The familiar smell of you lingering in the air and fills his nostrils. He ignores the footsteps behind him. Bucky pushes his son further into the kitchen where he picks JJ out and sets the little man on the floor. Bucky's not even able to say another word, his son zooming off on all fours, going straight to the box filled with toys near the couch in the living room. 
"I was told to hand you the keys." Bucky's eyes shoot up to Steve, your keys dangling between his thumb and index finger– Steve clears his throat. 
Casually folding the stroller back before standing up straight, bucky nods and holds his hand out. 
Your keys, not Steve's. Great, he's not at that base yet.
"y/n asked if you wanted to bathe the kids," Steve clears his throat once again and shifts his weight from one foot to the other "so she can start with dinner when she's back." 
"Yeah, sure." Bucky mumbles almost inaudibly, calm and collected, through his stomach drops as Steve nods and strides his way to your bedroom and comes back out with a black overnight bag hanging from his shoulder; rogers printed on the fabric. 
so, he's at that base already
"So, yeah– I should head back out. Work and all." Steve breathes out a laugh. 
Placing both hands on his sides, Steve looks back to the living room where Rosie and JJ crawled and played around the coffee table. 
"Bye rosie," Steve waves awkwardly and with no answer back, he looks back at bucky with a slight smile and nervous chuckle "kids, right." 
"Yeah," Bucky deadpans, not batting an eye at the men in front of him "kids." 
Bucky doesn't have the right to feel jealous, he screwed things up and not you but he still loves you with all his heart and he'll be damned if he didn't at least try to gain back your trust and maybe even woo you back in his life– Steve stands in the way of just that.
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maladaptive---daydreamer · 4 years ago
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Black ribbon and silver bows
The fifth of may meant that there were exactly 2 months until Draco turned 17. Draco had gone above and beyond for your birthday, spoiling you with 17 individually wrapped gifts that he sent you on a wild goose chase around the school to find. You wanted to make him equally as special as he made you feel, but what did you get the boy who could get anything he wanted?
You thought about getting him a pet, but you didn’t think his mother would appreciate a cat roaming around the halls of the Malfoy Manor. Then you thought about getting him a broom, but as usual, Draco already had the best of the best. Your mind turned to clothes, but the man only wore black shirts with tailor-made trousers. 
“Still thinking about what to get Draco?” Blaise’s voice asked, pulling you from your thoughts.
“Ugh yes, anything I think of, he already has”
“You’re fault for choosing rich, should have dated a Weasley, they’d be over the moon with an unworn robe” 
You smacked Blaise’s arm “Don’t be so rude, Blaise. Just because you don’t like them doesn't mean you can be a prick”
“Why don’t you make him something? I’m sure the elves would let you sneak into the kitchen to cook, you could draw something, write him a poem”
If you were a cat, your ears would have pricked at hearing the word ‘draw’, Draco was never a fan of the decorations in his room, maybe you could paint him a painting that he could hang up on his wall.
“You might have just saved Draco’s birthday”
The increase of chatter across the library hinted that your free period was over and it was now time for lunch. You and Blaise collected your things and returned the books to the returns trolley before making your way to the great hall. You bumped into Draco, Pansy and Daphne on your way there. The five of you made your way to the Slytherin table to see Crabbe and Goyle already tucking in. 
“Why am I not surprised that you two gluttons are the first on the table?” Blaise asked, throwing his school bag down and taking a seat. 
The rest of your group sat down as well, the elves had made different variations of chicken wraps for lunch today. You picked up a grilled chicken wrap and began eating it, famished after your hour of revision during your free period. You had just finished the first one when Draco said your name.
“You’ve got sauce on your mouth, darling”
You stuck your tongue out trying to lick it off but you kept missing. 
“Hold still a sec” Draco instructed. He used his thumb to wipe the spot of sauce from your mouth, licking it off his thumb once he was done. 
“Ah my saviour!” you fake swooned. 
He laughed and continued to eat his lunch. You wolfed another half of a wrap before feeling full. 
“Are we still revising for charms after dinner?” Daphne asked, looking up from her homework. 
“I’m on it, but the boys have quidditch practise until 7, so they’ll have to join in later” You replied, snapping the lid of your lip balm back on
“Actually, practice is cancelled, so Blaise and I’ll be there” Draco added, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice.
“Y/N, you alright?” 
Your head whipped around to see Neville Longbottom standing behind you.
“Are you lo-” Draco began to sneer
You pinched the outside of his thigh making him grit his teeth instead of finishing his sentence. “Neville, hi”
“I just wanted to return your charms notes, they were dead useful, thanks,” He said with a light blush, holding your pile of notes out.
“Oh, thank you. I’m so glad you found them helpful” You took the notes from him with a smile. 
“Have a nice rest of the afternoon,”
“You too Neville,”
He returned to his friends and your friends turned onto you.
“Why are you so nice to him?” Blaise demanded.
“Oh merlin, when are you guys going to get over this rivalry, he needed help, so I helped him.”
“He’s also Longbottom”
You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, does anyone want to let me copy the last two questions for the dada homework?”
Daphne slid her roll of parchment over to you and you quickly scribbled the answers. Just as you had screwed on the cap for your ink lid, the bell for your next lesson rang. Nowadays your lessons were less structured, it was two months before exam season which meant the teachers pushed to revise topics rather than introducing new ones. Some teachers preferred to let you get on in groups doing your own thing, others had a strict revision lesson planned. But one thing was for certain exams had definitely taken over your life.
After your charms revision session with your friends, you and Draco found yourselves walking up to the astronomy tower. The sun was beginning to set as you nestled yourself into his lap.
“Don’t you think it’s mad that in a couple of years we won’t be able to do this anymore?” You asked, tightening his arms around you.
“We can watch the sunset from anywhere love”
“Ha ha you know what I mean idiot”
“I’m ready to leave this place”
“Sorry Mr ‘I should have been in Durmstrang’”
“I should have, my father agreed more with their curriculum”
“Maybe cause his old death eater buddy was running it”
“He’s your father's old death eater buddy too”
“My father never thought about sending me to Durmstrang”
“That’s because it’s a boys-only school, love”
“I don’t like you”
“That’s because you love me,”
“Speaking of love, do you remember the first moment you realised you loved me?”
He paused “As a matter of fact I do”
“Do tell, Mr Malfoy”
“We were at that party at the Parkinson’s in our 3rd year. You had a silver dress on. Your mum forced you into these heels and you hated them. You wobbled over to me and clung to my arm the whole night. But as soon as we were shooed away from the adults, you took them off and practically shoved them into my hands and started walking around barefoot. Pansy’s grandmother came out of the parlour and saw you without your shoes on and went berserk, she called you a disgrace, all our mothers came out to see what was going on and I’m pretty sure your mum looked like she was going to kill you”
“I remember that! Then I transfigured her ostrich feather boa into a snake around her neck!”
“She nearly pissed her pants” He laughed, causing you to smile.
“So is that your favourite memory of us?”
“No, my favourite memory takes place in our 4th year at the Yule ball. I didn’t want to dance in front of all those idiots but you pulled me up there anyway. But as soon as you held my hand it was like they all disappeared and it was just me and you. I spun you out and when you spun back into my arms, I dipped you and you looked so beautiful. But that is fighting for the top spot from the time you sucked me off in the restricted section, and the time you floo’ed into my room last summer at 2 am and I absolutely ruined you”
“Okay okay I get the picture your favourite memories are when we have sex”
“Not all of them, just some, what’s yours?”
“5th year, Christmas break, your parents’ Christmas party, you hid my promise ring inside my dessert” you held your hand up letting your ring sparkle in the candlelight, it was simple, a small princess cut emerald on a gold band, but it was oh so precious “You kept staring at me and I was so confused, I wasn’t even looking at what I was eating until you jerked my hand back and told me to look in the spoon and there it was. You cleaned it off and slid it on my finger right in front of everyone. Or maybe it was the time you made me sit on your face when we snuck into a room at the leaky cauldron”
Draco laughed and lifted your hand up and played with the ring. “After we finish Hogwarts, I’m gonna replace this ring with a diamond one”
“You are?” 
“Why do you sound so surprised, I told you already I was going to change your last name to mine, even your parents know”
“I know but I didn’t know you wanted to do this so early"
“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”
“You are so whipped”
Draco shoved you off him playfully.
“But it’s okay because I’m equally as whipped” you replied sitting back in his lap.
“You’d better be, otherwise I’d-”
“You’d what? Tell your father?”
“Right, that’s it” His fingers found your sides as he began tickling you. By the time he felt as though he tortured you enough, you were both breathless. 
“I love you," He said, smoothing your shirt down.
“I love you more”
“Who’s up here?” Filch’s voice grumbled. 
You and Draco grinned at each other as you quickly threw your robes on and lifted the hoods, running straight past Filch and into the Slytherin common room. 
You had now learnt what Draco’s favourite memory of you was. All that was left was actually getting around to paint it. If you weren’t in a lesson, you were revising, usually most of the time with Draco. Even on weekends, you found yourself in in the library completing practise exam papers and testing yourself on flashcards. And any time you weren’t working, you and Draco used as an opportunity to spend time with one another without being bogged down with work. You’d already decided that the room of requirement would be the perfect place to start painting, but the issue was figuring out how you’d be able to sneak there and back without arousing suspicion. 
After much deliberation, you decided that your best option for sneaking out was on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Every Tuesday after dinner, Draco and Blaise would go out to the quidditch pitch to blow off some steam, by the time he had finished and showered, you were almost always already in bed. On Wednesday, you decided you’d tell Draco a little white lie and say that Flitwick had asked you to tutor a struggling 5th year in Charms, it would give you a few hours to yourself to get ahead with painting. 
The upcoming Tuesday your plan was in action, you made Daphne swear she wouldn’t tell Draco where you were and you made your way to the room of requirement. It was honestly a Godsend. You stepped into a room full of different sized canvasses, there were tubes of oil paint and palettes of watercolours and squeezy bottles of acrylic. A table was full of paintbrushes of different sizes and shapes and there were an easel and chair right in the middle of the room. 
You picked out a large rectangular canvas and placed it landscape on the easel and got to sketching the outline of your painting. If all went to plan, it would be a loop of Draco’s favourite memory of the two of you at the ball, if it didn’t well, then it would be a still image and if everything went south, you’d have to somehow find a way to get some lingerie to distract him from your lack of presents. 
Painting the canvas was going to be the hard part, sketching the outline, however, was proving to be a huge nightmare already, you had drawn and redrawn Draco’s face about a hundred times, not being able to get it exactly right. You were about to kick a hole in your canvas when a small a5 picture caught your eye, stuck under the foot of the easel. You picked it up to see a photograph of the exact moment you were trying to recreate. This was why you loved this room, taking a deep breath, you redrew Draco’s face finally getting it as you liked it. By the time you had finished the full outline, it was almost two am, you knew you were going to struggle to wake up in the morning, but that was something for future you to deal with, present you had to find a way to sneak out of the room and back to your dormitory without detection. 
In order to make as little noise as possible, you took your shoes off and ran across the castle in just your socks, you were only a few steps away from the entrance to the common room before Mrs Norris came around the corner. She meowed loudly as you whisper-shouted the password, the corridor revealing itself. You ran down it and straight up the stairs into your dormitory. You tried to get into bed as quietly as possible before falling asleep. 
In hindsight, staying up sketching until 2 am was a horrible idea. It was only 1 in the afternoon and you were struggling to stay awake. 
“I don’t get why you don’t just pay someone to paint it for you,” Daphne asked, scrunching a piece of paper into a ball and throwing it in the bin beside you.
“Because then there's no sentimental value behind it” You replied, massaging your temples.
“What time did you fall asleep anyway?”
“By the time I drowned out Pansy’s snoring it was 3, I was just lucky I had a free period first so I ended up getting an hours extra sleep”
“Merlin, remind me to never fall in love”
You laughed before rubbing your eyes and returning to your work. 
It took you four weeks of staying up till 2 am to finish Draco’s painting. You had spent hours mixing the right shades of paint, at one point you ended up getting rid of the paint on the whole canvas and starting again but exactly three weeks before Draco’s birthday, you had mastered the spell to make your painted figures move and your masterpiece was complete. Your only worry was that Narcissa Malfoy would hate it and would stop her son from hanging it in his bedroom. 
In order to get the huge canvas from the room of requirement back to your dormitory, you had to ask Neville to ask Harry if you could borrow his invisibility cloak. If Draco had found out that you got Harry’s help you were 90% sure he’d be the one kicking a hole in your canvas. For now, the canvas was safely tucked under your bed. 
The next morning, you stuffed Harry’s cloak in your bag and made your way down to meet him. You had agreed the previous evening that you’d meet outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom before breakfast to make the exchange. As planned, he was stood with Neville right outside the entrance to the toilet. You pulled the cloak out and handed it back to Harry. 
“Thank you, I know you and Draco don’t like each other, but it means a lot that you'd go out on a limb to help me.”
“While I question your choice in men, Y/L/N, you’ve helped Neville out on more than one occasion and any friend of Neville’s is a friend of mine.”
You smiled at Harry, “I’m gonna head to breakfast before Draco gets suspicious, see you boys, later”
They waved goodbye as you made your way back to breakfast, stopping in the normal girl's toilet to sort your shirt out which you found you were wearing inside out. Your group of friends were already sat down eating, all but Draco.
“Where is he?” You asked.
“Couple third years said they had to tell him something in private, oh wait, speak of the devil” 
You turned and he did not look happy. His jaw was clenched and he was walking oddly fast, he came to you and gripped you firmly by the arm. “Can I speak to you, outside, Y/N”
You looked at him confused but followed him out. As soon as you were out of earshot from the hall he turned around to face you, he looked pissed, he kept walking forward until you were pinned between him and the wall. 
“You want to tell me why some friends in 3rd year saw you giving Potter his invisibility cloak back?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, darling, we both know you’re not. ‘it looked like she was holding something but there wasn't anything in her hand’. Why did you have his cloak”
“I was planning on recreating that memory of yours in the restricted section for your birthday, I asked Neville if I could borrow Harry’s cloak to get us there and back but then I remembered you wouldn’t have come if we were using his cloak so I gave it back” You lied smoothly 
He swallowed and nodded, not moving back. You pushed him off and scoffed. 
“Is this what you’re doing now? Sending third years to follow me?”
“You of all people should know I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Those eyes and ears shouldn't be snooping on your girlfriend”
“They wouldn’t have to if you weren’t lying to me about where you were for the past month.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Helping a 5th year with Charms as per the request of Flitwick? Well not according to the professor himself”
“Dra-”
He laughed, “Can’t even cover up your lies properly. Why don't I give you a few hours to come up with a cover story, I can’t bear the sight of you right now” Draco turned and walked away, ignoring you as you called out for him. 
He acted as though you didn’t exist for all of your lessons, he didn't sit next to you, he didn't speak to you, he barely looked at you. You chose to have dinner alone in your room that night. It had occurred to you during your second period that Draco thought you were cheating on him with Harry. It made sense, you were sneaking around and you were seen giving Harry’s cloak back as if to say that you two had been meeting up in secret under it. But it also made absolutely no sense either, you and Draco had been together since the beginning of your 3rd year. Your father was a death eater for Pete’s sake, it didn’t take a genius to realise you’d be disowned if you brought home Harry fucking Potter. 
You were partway through your transfiguration homework when Daphne came bounding up into the dormitory.
“Right, what is going on with you and Draco?” She asked, throwing her bag on the floor and collapsing on her bed.
“Nothing,” You lied.
“See that is absolute bullshit because he has been a moody prick all day and you skipped dinner, so come out with it, spill”
You sighed and explained everything. 
“Why don’t you just tell him the truth then?”
“Because if I do, it’ll ruin the surprise”
“And if you don’t it’ll end your relationship, my mother is over the moon at the fact that I’ll be a bridesmaid at a Malfoy wedding, you don’t want to crush her dreams do you?”
“You’re right, do you know where he is?”
“He went straight into his dormitory”
You nodded and made your way there. He was joined by his friends.
“Rest of you out, thanks,” You said, walking in and standing in the middle of the room. 
Blaise looked at Draco and he nodded, prompting him, Theodore and Goyle to leave. He refused to look at you. You took a seat at the end of his bed and began to explain.
“I’m well aware you think I’m cheating on you with Potter, but that’s really the complete opposite of what’s happening. The truth is, for the past few weeks, I’ve been arranging your birthday present. I finished it last night and I asked for Harry’s cloak so I could bring it back to my dormitory without revealing the surprise. That’s where I’ve been sneaking off to. Not to go snog Potter under his invisibility cloak”
“Oh”
“Bet you feel really fucking stupid now don’t you,” You scoffed
“I’m sorry, darling,”
“Do you not think? Could you imagine my parents’ reaction if I brought home Potter? They’d disown me faster than you came the first time we-”
He grabbed you into a hug before you could finish your sentence.
“I am truly sorry, princess, for jumping to conclusions and for ruining my surprise.”
“Well, you haven’t totally ruined it, you don’t know what it is yet.”
“Can we come back in yet, I need to get out of this fucking uniform” Theodore shouted from the bottom of the stairs.
Draco shouted back a yeah and his friends returned. 
“See you two’ve kissed and made up, about time too, Draco’s a right git when he's moody”
Draco threw a pair of balled-up socks at Blaise’s head before you got up off the bed.
“I’ll meet you in the common room once I’ve finished my homework,” You told him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He mumbled an okay before kissing you once more and you were on your way. 
The next morning, at breakfast, you noticed your father’s owl descend onto the table in front of you. You took the letter expecting him to fly off and return home but he waited expectantly, clearly, he was told to wait until you replied. He hopped up onto your arms as you took him to the owlery to recuperate while you read your letter and replied. 
Y/N, 
You’re hopefully aware that it is Draco’s birthday in a few weeks, I hope that you have got him an adequate gift. You know how important your 17th birthday is and as I remember, Draco spoilt you with 17 gifts. Since you are a young lady, you're not expected to gift him anything as lavish as some of the presents he gave you, but tradition dictates that you should get him something worthy of a pureblood wizard, in particular jewels. Please reply as soon as possible, only so I know that you won’t embarrass your father and I (and in the case you do, I can send you an alternative). Your brothers and your father send their regards. We miss you. 
Mother
You rolled your eyes at her need for keeping up appearances and quickly scribbled her back a reply. You wished you were at home to see her reaction to you gifting him a painting you painted yourself. Once your father’s owl had filled himself up with water and owl feed, you attached the letter to him and sent him on his way. 
Later in the evening, your mother’s owl pecked at you through the library window. You went out into the corridor and took a letter and a box off of her. Once you had freed her of her cargo, she hooted and flew off. You opened the second letter and read.
Sweetheart, I know that you are an accomplished young artist, but a painting will simply not do, especially for his 17th birthday. However, since I am your mother and I know you best, I had a feeling I would need to help you in this department. I took the liberty of going into Bourgin and Burke’s on the weekend and purchased a rare black diamond ring for Draco on your behalf. I think he will like it and I think you will too. I hope you are studying well for your exams, 
Mother
You tried to rip open the wrapping on the box but it wouldn't move. The fold at the bottom lifted itself up a bit and ran across your finger, giving you a papercut. A thin line of blood collected on its edge and the wrapping dissolved leaving you with a red ring box, she was always partial to a bit of blood magic. You lifted the lid to see a thick silver band, it looked like it was either white gold or platinum, your mother thought sterling silver was too cheap, the oval cut diamond set atop a larger oval of platinum. It wasn't too plain but it also wasn’t overly gaudy, just as Draco liked it. You returned to the library with your second gift, making a note to hide it under your bed with your painting.
The next few weeks went past in a blur of mock exams and constant revision. Your first exam wasn’t until the 10th of June, giving you plenty of time to celebrate Draco’s birthday properly. The night before his birthday, half of Slytherin house was gathered in the common room waiting for it to hit midnight. You asked the elves to bake a cake for him and smuggled it with some snacks to have a small party with your friends. 
At 11.59 you pulled a tie out from behind you and held it up.
“Gonna let me tie you up huh?” Draco asked with a smirk. 
“Nice try, Malfoy, but this is for you” You replied getting up and tying it around his eyes. 
“What are you doing, Y/L/N?” 
You pointed your wand at the wall causing birthday banners and streamers to hang. Blaise brought the cake in from the 1st year dormitory. The large grandfather clock donged deeply as it hit midnight, you pulled his blindfold down as the whole common room burst into a rendition of happy birthday. He laughed and put his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. Nott finished the song on a horrible high note as Draco blew his candles out. 
“Make a wish, Draco” Pansy shouted. 
“I don’t need to, I've got everything I could wish for right next to me.”
You smiled up at him and gave him a kiss before addressing the crowd. “Eat my friends,” You felt like Dumbledore as plates of food dotted themselves around the common room. The attention moved from Draco to the food as everyone got up and attacked. 
“Happy birthday, my love,” You said wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Thank you, princess, I wasn’t expecting this at all.”
“Only the best for my boyfriend”
You spent the next few hours playing truth or dare with your housemates, it was cut short when Snape barged into the common room, the decorations were ripped off the wall and the music from the radio stopped. 
“I am going to give you until the count of 10 to return to your dormitory, anyone I still see standing here will be spending every weekend for the rest of the year cleaning with filch”
He began to count down from 10 as everyone scrambled to run into their dorms and get into bed. 
You were so excited to surprise Draco with his presents that you skipped breakfast, instructing Daphne to tell him to meet you in the astronomy tower. You decided you were going to decorate your spot a little bit, you set up a soft blanket and some cupcakes and hung up the leftover banners and streamers from your midnight party in the common room. You had his gifts wrapped up with ribbon and some bows just to be extra, they sat in the centre of your blanket, the canvas taking up a large chunk of it. You had realised Draco would probably struggle to take the canvas back home, but that would be a problem he would have to deal with later.
 “Y/N?” His voice called out from the bottom of the stairs. 
“Up here, love” You replied, your head popping up over the bannister. 
He broke into a smile when he saw you and rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. You sat on the edge of the blanket and waited for him.
“Happy 17th birthday, Draco” You exclaimed as he reached the top. 
His smile got even wider as he pulled you up and into a tight hug. 
“I am so in love with you, do you know that?” he mumbled into your neck.
“I hope you feel the same after you see your presents,”
“Darling, you know you didn’t have to get me anything, you’re the best gift I could have ever received”
“I didn’t have to but I wanted to, here look” 
His eyes fell onto the two wrapped gifts, he sat himself down and opened the top present. 
“How did you get your hands on this?” he pulled the ring out and examined it closely.
“RIght so backstory to this, my mum didn’t believe that my original present was traditional enough to be a ‘wizard’s 17th birthday present’ so she went out to Bourgin and Burke and got this, but I wouldn’t have given it to you had I thought you wouldn't like it, so think of this as a gift from your in-laws.”
“My father’ll be jealous, he's been wanting a black diamond in his collection for ages now” He put the ring back in the box and was about to shut it.
“Wait, let me put it on. you put my ring on, so I’ll put yours on, practise for the big day”
He smiled at you as you sat down next to him and pulled the ring back out of the box. He held his left hand out for you and you slid the ring onto his ring finger.  
“You know after this, they tend to kiss” He grinned. 
“Oh yes, of course, if we’re going to practise we should be thorough” You pulled his head down and his lips met yours for a passionate kiss. 
He pulled back after a few moments with a grin. 
“We should keep practising, just to be on the safe side”
“Enough flirting, Malfoy you have another gift to open”
He turned and picked up the canvas in his hands.
“Is this the one you were sneaking away for?”
You nodded and he began to tear off the wrapping. He got up and placed it against the wall and stood there looking at it, silently. He was silent for a while as he watched the loop of Draco spinning you out and then dipping you on your return with a kiss. Although he hadn't said anything, you got the feeling that he didn't particularly like this gift. He was probably thinking of a way to let you down easily.
“Do you not like it?” You asked quietly.
“What? No!” he turned around with a genuine smile. “I love it, darling, it's perfect. Honestly, it's beautiful.”
You physically relaxed and went to stand next to him. “You said you didn’t like the painting in your room above the fire so I thought I’d give you something to change it with, I’m just not sure if your mother would like it, since its not one of those classical masterpieces.”
“I don’t care what my mother thinks, as soon as I get home, I’m hanging this right up on my wall. I just never knew you could paint like this”
“My mum made me start painting when I was three, I stopped lessons as soon as I started Hogwarts but I kept it up on the side as a hobby and, well, I thought I’d immortalise your favourite memory of us.”
“You never cease to amaze me” He turned and pulled you into him “Thank you,”
“Don’t be silly it’s your birthday, stupid”
“Not just for this, for everything. For putting up with everything, the jealousy, the anger, the-”
“Hey, I’m not putting up with anything, I love you, Draco, all of you”
“Merlin, I can’t wait to marry you” His lips crashed into yours for a frenzied kiss, overwhelmed with emotion. “This is by far the best birthday I’ve ever had, nothing will be able to top this”
And he wasn’t lying. Whenever he was asked, by his kids, his grandkids even his great-grandkids, what his favourite birthday celebration was, his response was always the same, his 17th birthday.
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Outsmart
(I’m putting the request at the bottom this time to not give anything away!)
*Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*
Fandom: Sherlock(BBC)
Warnings: Death(Murder), very brief mentions of arson and abuse. 
Pairings/Characters: Fem!reader, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
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Sherlock didn't like this. Not one bit. He didn't like not knowing something. And he certainly wasn't pleased that you had, somehow, figured it out before him. He had his blue eyes fixed on you in a way that made you slightly uncomfortable. Instead of telling him that though, you used your best defense. A little snark.
         "Is that jealousy I detect, Sherlock? I only did what you do. You taught me well, after all." Sherlock said nothing for a moment but finally turned his eyes away from you. "How? How did you deduce that it wasn't his colleague? The colleague had the means, motive, and the time." You gave a little shrug.
         "Easy. The other professor may have had all those things, but he also had an alibi. You see, the other professor always pays a visit to a…a house of ill repute on Friday and Saturday evenings. He partakes in various vices, although the one we should be looking at is his weekend drug cocktail. Based on the time of death, the suspect would have had no physical way of committing the murder even though he was also in the building with the victim. Too many different drugs floating through his system."
         Sherlock knew that. Of course he knew that! He was an addict. But the question was, how did you know that? How had you even discovered the professor's secret habits? How had you eliminated a suspect before he had? There was hardly any evidence to suggest it. "Anyway, I have to go. I have things to do. Good day, Sherlock. Let me know if you need me again." With that, you flitted out the door, leaving Sherlock behind, thinking.
         "I think you've met your match, Sherlock," Watson stated, sipping his tea. Sherlock didn't reply. His mind going over the same question again and again. How had you outsmarted him? How had you beaten him to a conclusion? He pondered on this for what seemed like hours until his phone rang again. Another victim. His newest mystery would have to wait. He had a murderer to catch.
*short time skip*
         Sherlock breathed a little sigh of relief when he looked at the smoking hole he'd left in the wall. Three bodies, no real leads, yet somehow, you'd been managing to find information and deduce something about each victim. It was never much, like the first suspect's weekend habits or the second victim's love for setting things on fire or the third's enjoyment of hitting his wife. It wasn't enough to completely solve the case, just to rule out a suspect or motive or two.
         "Why don't you just ask her to help with the case?" Watson had suggested. Sherlock glared at his flat mate. "I do not need her help. I just need to think. I need to go to my Mind Palace." Sherlock practically plopped himself down on the floor and closed his eyes. He let his mind sort through everything he knew about the case. Who the victims were, how they were killed, and all the possible suspects. The pieces were fitting together like a puzzle, but there was a piece missing. Who or what in their lives to all the victims have in common other than having some sort of vice that be deadly?
         Nothing was fitting and it certainly didn't help that you kept popping into his Mind Palace, taunting him with your presence. It wouldn't have bothered him if you were actually helpful, but you weren't. You were just standing there. It was like you were children, keeping that last piece of the puzzle out of his reach. A piece that you couldn't possibly have unless…
         Sherlock's eyes flew open and he shot to his feet. "Come, Watson!" He darted out the door, barely stopping to grab his coat, hat, and scarf. As quickly as he could, Sherlock found his way to your flat. Your flat mate refused him entry, but handed him a note saying five words. To where it all began
         Sherlock let his mind wander through all the scenarios in his head, all the places you could be. It didn't take him long to figure it out, of course. The first case you worked on with him. The victim had been found in the sewer tunnels connecting all of London. He briefly heard Watson thank your flat mate as he ran off. He didn't need to look over his shoulder know Watson was following. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He was almost there. He was so close to solving this case. He just needed to get to you.
         Just as he suspected, another victim was waiting for them. One glance at the body on the ground confirmed Sherlock's suspicions. The victim wasn't you. That meant…
         "Oh good. I was beginning to think you'd never figure it out." You stepped out of the shadows, a smirk painted on your lips. "The great Sherlock Holmes. You know, I never expected it would take this long. I expected to be caught after victim number one as soon as Lestrade called you in. Three, well now four, bodies. I must say I'm…disappointed, Sherlock. I thought you were better than this. I gave you all the clues you could need."
         You sank down into a squat to look over your handiwork. "Such a shame. This one's pretty. Still, it was inevitable." You stood again, your (e/c) eyes piercing into Sherlock's. "I congratulate you, Miss Y/L/N. You managed to convince me you weren't part of this. Right up until the end." Your smirk grew.
         "But why?" Watson asked, "Why do it at all when you knew Lestrade would call Sherlock in?" Sherlock scoffed, placing one hand in his pocket. "It's obvious, John. Y/N wanted me to catch her. But why? Why go through all this trouble? Why kill so many only to be caught on purpose?"
         "You're NOT THINKING!" you shouted, "STOP THINKING LIKE A DETECTIVE AND START THINKING LIKE ME! Like a…murderer," you whispered that last word, confusing Sherlock. A moment ago, you had seemed proud of what you'd done. Now, you seemed unsure. It wasn't any type of mental illness. No. This was something else.
         "Think about it. What did all your victim's have in common, Sherlock?" you asked, "What were they?" Sherlock let his mind go over the facts of the case before looking down at the last victim. "Who is this?" You scoffed lightly. "My former friend. At least, I thought he was my friend once." Sherlock's brows furrowed. You hadn't known any of the others personally.
         "What was his name?" You gave it to him with a smile. That was all he needed. He'd seen the name in Scotland Yard's files. He was once accused of assaulting a young woman, but there was never enough corroborating evidence to support the claim. Eventually, the young woman died of her wounds and it was ruled an accidental death.
         "Your sister…he was responsible for your sister's death." You nodded. "My poor, sweet sister.  All she wanted was to be loved. He was there for her. He treated her well…until he didn't. When he didn't receive any consequences, I snapped. I knew he would have to pay somehow."
         "And the others?" You shook your head and clenched your fists at your sides. "More of the same. Victim 2 set a house on fire with an elderly couple inside. Ruled an accident because the woman had dementia. Victim 3 beat his wife. That alone wasn't enough. He was also responsible for the death of his previous wife, but nothing was ever proven."
         All the pieces finally clicked in Sherlock's mind. You weren't the person who killed for the thrill of it. You were an avenging angel. You killed to get justice for those who couldn't get it for themselves. "And the first?" Sherlock asked and you looked sheepishly down at your feet.
         "An unfortunate accident. He wasn't my intended victim." Sherlock nodded as you confirmed his suspicions. "You were intending on killing the other professor. My original suspect. I suppose he too was responsible for a crime and did not face justice." You gave him a nod. "Yes. You see, I didn't kill just to kill. But now it's done and I need to face my own justice."
         Sherlock sighed. "You've already called the police," he stated. As soon as he'd seen you step out of the shadows, he'd figured everything out. The sounds of sirens confirmed it. What kind of Avenging Angel would you be if you didn't accept your own justice when it came? "Thank you, Sherlock." With that, you climbed out of the sewers and raised your hands. Sherlock and Watson climbed up in time to see Donovan slamming the door of the car. Your eyes met Sherlock's and you did something he didn't expect. You smiled.
(a/n; I couldn’t make you lovelies just some random serial killer this time! Based on this request:  Hi! I was wondering if I may request a Sherlock × Fem!reader where the reader kinda outsmarts Sherlock on a case but really she was in on the crime the entire time? Apologies if it doesn’t make sense 😅 )
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strawbrieshortcake · 5 years ago
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Shopping w/ Aoba Johsai,Nekoma, and Karasuno
Summary: Shopping shenanigans with the boys 
Genre:crack
Warning/s: fem!reader, swearing? Yeah that’s it karasuno’s is a lil longer 
A/n:I just felt like writing these? I was eating strawberries and was like “woah memories” so here we are! Based off true stories-
Aoba Johsai:
-So the shopping trip with the boys was simple, really
-You guys needed to go to the mall to get a few things to restock the snack bag you have you mom and such
-then it kinda turned into h e y let’s hangout
- let's get one thing s t r a i g h t 
-Iwa is the one with the cart, no questions asked. 
-Despite being a mom, you are NOT responsible enough to handle the cart
-You may be the manager, but you and Oinkawa Oikawa, TOGETHER with MONEY? No.
-You guys act like strippers by the watermelons, shoving them down your shirts 
-So now you were at the grocery store 
-on a saturday 
-with money
-and Iwa as a chaperone 
-So Iwa has the cart, you and Oikawa on each side, Makki and Mattsun in the front and everyone else behind you
- I know for a FACT you will distract Iwa while Oikawa would put random ass things in the cart
- And you will get your underclassmen to help you
- “Hey Iwa! Look at this d o g” you point at the dog food at the top of the shelf 
- Oikawa shoves a bag of cat food like he has a cat smh he is the cat
“AW that's a cute dog y/n!” “are you talking about mad-dog kindaichi” “Kunimi stfu” “no you Yahabababababa” 
-You can f e e l the crackling from Makki and Mattsun behind you
-Iwa and Kyotani are still shaking their heads to this day
-SPEAKING of my boy Kyo-kyo he totally respects you
-yeah you’re a mom 
-you guys totally share pocky together 
- “y/n! Can we get this?” um kindaichi we don’t need a steak knife 
-okay okay but you, makki and Mattsun would totally bully Oikawa into buying everything
- “C’mon pretty boy we know you got money,I mean you almost went to Shiratorizawa didn’t you” 
-Makki with the shots omg 
- y e a h Oikawa threw a fuss and left the store 
- he came back when nobody followed him drama queen
- “But Iwa-chan! Who knows what you guys would’ve done without me!” he acts like you guys can’t find another sugar daddy smh
Nekoma:
-Kenma wanted to go get a new video game for his switch
-who are you to say no?? Yeah that’s what I thought
-He just wanted to go with you and Kuroo
-kuroo doesn’t know how to shut tf up so the whole team is with you guys 
-Kenma didn’t care he just didn’t want Lev there
- “kENMA!” he just turns around and walks away with that look on his face 
-can i just say how nice my boy Yaku would look? Bby boy 
-N E WAys
- Yaku would be in control of the cart with lev standing r i g h t behind him
-yk those kids you see at the store just standing as close as they can to the parent??
-yeah that's Lev
-Kenma is totally trying to run away but kuroo keeps on grabbing him to stay 
- “this is team bonding! Right y/n?” Kuroo is totally using you as the last resort into keeping kenma with you guys 
-”um yeah :) “ tbh you just wanted to get the video game and get boba with kenma but you still love your boys!
-”stfu kuro” “okay kenma” yeah kenma just stays for you 
-Yamamoto?? This boy is trying to do WHEELIES in the cart
-him and Yaku are fighting for ownership while lev is just :)
-you and Kai would be giggling in the background sweet babe 
-Fukunaga would just kinda bonk Yamamoto
-by bonk I mean karate chop his big ass head 
-Shibayama would just be trying his best to defuse the situation with words! But yk that didn’t work 
-I feel like Inukoa would join you guys later? He would get lost in the store 
-But when he does show up
-he would show up with minecraft merch all over 
-manz would sword fight you and Lev
-he would just hit you in the head with a minecraft sword haRD
-then would just start laughing at you??
- *kuroo laugh* “y/N HAHAHA” he can’t even make out WORDS 
-you stab him in the back 
- more kai giggles aw
-then all of you guys just kinda,,,,fight to the death
-you guys got kicked out HAHA
-kenma got so pissed but let's be honest
-he had a good time attacking Lev without getting in trouble 
-Yall get boba after and did that thing when you close your eyes and stabbed the boba 
-and it spilled EVERYWHERE
- kenma never got his game smh 
Karasuno:
- SO you,kiyoko, and Yachi wanted to go to the crafts store near your school
-and made the plan for the following weekend 
-but tanaka and Noya heard yall and was like
-”you know what that means right RYUU” so BAM they invited everyone 
-so they wouldn’t look like stalkers AAHAHa
-But when you saw them there you were like
-”yall hear sum”
-you and your girls wanted to have a good time!!!
-but it's okay bc they are your boys 
-you swear you saw coach Ukai too but we aren't talking about that
-So you walk to the painting aisle and you legit saw Asahi admiring the paintings
-then Suga walked in and started bullying teasing him about it 
- Dadchi Daichi suggested you should all get a basket
-then Suga said ACAB and got a cart
-Tanaka and Nyoa lost their shit over it
- “YOU AREN’T THE BETTER PARENT, SUGA IS”
- Cue Daichi and Asahi comforting each other
-Hinata? ELASTIC TO BE THERE
-this babe is just happy to be included 
-You, Yachi, Hinata, and Yama? Baby squad coming up with ideas to make the gym look prettier
-fake flowers in the cart
-Tsukki is trying to act cool
-Keyword:Trying
-You saw Tsukki get excited for a paint your own dinosaur when he thought nobody was looking 
- “I see you tsukki” 
-manz got PRESSED BHAHA
- Kags? He got soooo happy when he found some cleaning things for his volleyballs 
-I know he got like 10 volleyballs at his house,
- “Kageyama, you know we have that in the gym right??” 
- man just STARES at you 
- “It’s not the good stuff” and just walks away like kid-
-Tanaka and Noya get a big brain moment 
-and it's scary they stole the cart from Narita and Ennoshita
- “y/n….hinata… get in the cart”
-and of course you and hinata get in without another thought 
-hinata is sitting in front of you 
-then noya sits under the the cart 
-then yall go zOOOOM
-tanaka is RACING in the aisles, turns, wheelies, jumping?? 
-bro you thought you were gonna DIE
- “tanakAAAA STOP” “TAnaKA SENPAI STOPP” you BET you were holding on to Hinata and the side of the cart
-Noya you ask? Boy is having the time of his LIFE 
-then he flips you on the gROUND 
-Hinata started crying 
-you were shaking 
-Noya was screaming of joy 
-then you see suga wow what angel
-“SUGA SAVE US” 
-BAHAHA you THOUGHT
-he throws a MANNEQUIN HEAD IN THE CART AND WALKS AWAY LAUGHING 
-then he comes back 
-he is gonna save you guys now right???
-WRONG
-he gets a roller chair and seats himself in front of the cart and Noya holds him from under
-then the workers told you guys to put the chair back smh 
-While all of this is happening, Yachi,Kiokyo, and Asahi are in the other side of the building looking at the fake flowers and being beautiful babes
-when Ennoshita saw you guys?? He was soooo disappointed and pissed 
-he hit Tanaka so hard
-Cue tsukki and Yama giggling in the back 
- when Daichi found out?? He was MAD
-The workers of the store went to go talk to him
- they were like “sir control your children”
-you bet Daichi made you guys run laps around the parking lot
207 notes · View notes
wkemeup · 5 years ago
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I’m With You (1/3)
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series summary: When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love. pairing: bucky x reader warnings: super soft!bucky, shenanigans, literally no legit warnings its a miracle, rare kas fluff a/n: the first part of this fic was inspired after I got stuck in Atlanta on a layover a few months back and my imagination ran wild lol 🌸series masterlist // series playlist 🌸
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T H E   L A Y O V E R
Perhaps you should have known it was coming after the second time the flight got delayed. Nearing on two hours past your departure time and with a monsoon brewing past the windows outside, it was a wonder anyone at the gate was still holding onto hope. That was, until the moment the young gate agents with cheeks burning bright red announced that your flight had been canceled.
In most circumstances, you wouldn’t have been relieved as you were in that moment, standing in a never-ending line extending out into the middle of the walkway with disgruntled, stranded passengers grumbling under their breath and arguing amongst one another.
Most circumstances didn’t involve you flying to Atlanta to attend the wedding of the last and only man to break your heart.
You stood behind a rather tall man in a dark navy business suit, carrying a leather briefcase and tapping his toe incessantly as the single gate agent attempted to address the needs of the completely booked flight currently waiting in line. The man in the suit was barking orders at what seemed to be a poor intern on the other end of the phone as he nudged an elderly woman ahead of him to take a step forward the very second the line moved up.
With a roll of your eyes, you took a sip from the burning hot coffee you’d purchased shortly after the second delay, despite the fact that it had been nearing 11:00pm at the time. You seemed to be the only one who was mildly relieved by the cancelation and threat of spending an overnight stay in the Charlotte airport, though that didn’t surprise you much. Still, you didn’t much mind the possibility that you would have a genuine, no-fault-of-your-own, entirely-mother-nature’s-curse, excuse to avoid your ex’s wedding.
Then, carrying gently between the aggravated conversations around you, the soft humming of someone standing behind you pulled you from your daze.
You didn’t dare turn around, but you listened intently, caught up in the low vibrations of his voice, not entirely in key, but charming, and sweet. It sat in sharp contrast to the chaos surrounding you to hear something so relaxed, at ease, amongst the panic and frustration.
The coffee was still hot on your lips and you winced as it passed on your tongue. The man ahead of you folded his arms over his chest, relentlessly making a show of looking up and around those ahead of him to prove he had better things to do, to show that he was impatient and clearly irritated by his situation as he was the only one with somewhere to be.
Those ahead of him weren’t much better; the lot of them all on the phone with representatives from the airlines and demanding their money back, demanding answers for next available flights, and blaming poor customer service for their troubles as if it was the gate agent’s fault that a monsoon had plundered its way through North Carolina.
“What a bunch of barbarians,” the voice behind you chuckled under his breath, the humming pausing for only a moment. His tone was like honey and you found yourself smiling, suppressing the subtle movement of your shoulders as you laughed quietly to yourself at his comment.  
“Bet the guy at the desk is going to lose his shit in about two minutes,” he said to himself, though you wondered briefly if he was talking to someone next to him or behind him, or maybe even you, though you didn’t dare to turn around. No one else responded to his commentary.
You glanced up ahead to who he seemed to be referring to, to find a middle-aged man in khaki slacks and a light blue polo, gripping a newspaper harshly in one hand and tapping his knuckles against the counter top with the other. His face was beet red, jaw clenching, and starring daggers into the poor gate agent.
It barely took longer than a few seconds before the man slammed his fist down onto the countertop, causing you to flinch in response. The honey-voiced man behind you chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by the aggressive reactions of those around him.
You found yourself wanting to turn over your shoulder, to steal a glance at the man with the sweetest sounding voice, even in off-key humming, who laughed in times of chaos and didn’t seem to be bothered at all to be standing in a seemingly never-ending line nearing midnight in the middle of Charlotte Douglas International.
In your brief moment of distraction, you didn’t notice the man in the suit take a sharp step back in reflex to the person at the front of the line waving their hands about, setting off a chain reaction of passengers flinching away from the scene. His elbow slammed down into the lid of your coffee and it slipped from your fingers with a gasp.
The cup fell to the floor in the kind of slow motion you see in the movies, like maybe if you reached out in time you could have grabbed it mid-air, but instead the cardboard cup slammed to the tile and the coffee spewed from the top as the lid broke away, dousing the pant legs of the man in the suit ahead of you. He yelped, jumping away from you and shoving you back with a harsh thrust.
Unsteady on your feet from the shock of it, you fell back into person behind you, into the man with the honey voice and the amusing observations. He caught you before you hit the ground with his arms hooked under yours, smelling of something like warmth and comfort and flannel and fireplaces, before you even caught sight of his face.
Blue eyed. The damned near bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life and they were gentle, kind, like they were painted with care with several shades from the Mediterranean Sea and a cloudless sky and the petals of an iris. Bristles of scruff on his cheeks and dark brown hair brushed up in sweeps away from his eyes. He smiled softly at you, reassuringly, as he helped you back to your feet.
“You alright?” he asked softly and you nodded, just about lost in the smooth tone of his voice, up until the moment suit-man let out an aggravated howl.
“Look what you’ve done!” the man shouted, grabbing at the backs of his pant legs in disgust and sending darting glares at you.
Your lips parted to say something, but you were never good under pressure, not with so many wondering eyes looking over in your direction, whispering to one another, pointing and staring. Cheeks burning red and heating all the way down your neck, you felt a pang of embarrassment, of shame. You bent down quickly to retrieve the empty cup, stepping away from the pool of coffee on the floor.
“I’m-- I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t--”
“You didn’t mean to?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Do you have any idea how much this suit costs?! Probably more than a month of your salary, sweetheart!”
“Hey man, back off! It was clearly an accident,” blue-eyes interjected from behind you, carefully side stepping around you to put himself in the cross hairs. “It was your elbow that knocked it out of her hand in the first place.”
The man glared at blue-eyes, studying him up as if he was determining if carrying on this fight was worth it with a man at least a decade younger and a build twice his size. He seemed to only be eager to kick and yell and fight when it was at a target without much of a will for defense, someone like you. You clenched your jaw, hating how easily you fell into that trap.
“Goddamn millennials,” the man in the suit grumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes on you one last time before he turned his attention back to the front of the line. You let out a heavy sigh, the relief pouring through you almost instantly. You gripped the empty cup in your hand until it bent and crumpled at the center.
“What an asshole,” blue-eyes grumbled next to you, offering you a soft kind of smile that still managed to crinkle up by his eyes. He glanced down at the cup folding under your tight grip. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you replied slowly, though you kept an extra foot of distance between you and the man in the suit, even as he took a step forward when the line moved. “Thanks for that, by the way. You didn’t have to say anything.”
“Sure, I did. Chivalry still exists, you know,” blue-eyes said, that charmingly smooth tone of his voice running almost in shivers up your spine.
“Not in my experience,” you muttered under your breath, uncertain if he could hear you, though he raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering somewhat. If he heard you, he didn’t say anything.
You waited for what felt like another hour before you made it to the front of the line. The gate agent looked exhausted and practically winced at you stepped up, as if he was preparing himself for another verbal attack, but you were soft spoken and patient with him, a kind of change he wasn’t expecting.
Blue-eyes was on your right, talking with the second agent who had rushed up to the counter to assist. You could feel him glance over at you every few moments as you complimented the agent on his organization and calmness under pressure, getting the young man to laugh nervously in response.
The gate agent smiled a bit as he handed you a tentative flight and instructed you to listen to the overhead monitors for any changes. You nodded as you took the new ticket and grabbed your bag, getting ready to go find a quiet place by yourself to mentally prepare for facing this weekend after the nightmare it was already starting out on.
Attending your ex’s wedding was already a worst case scenario on its own. Now you’d have to show up with less than a few hours night rest, if any at all. You were sure you’d hear comments circulating about the bags under your eyes and the exhaustion plated on your face they’d no doubt attribute to remorse for a relationship that was kinder in your memories than it was in real life.  
You started to make your way out to the walkway when you heard a voice call out behind you.
“Wait, hold up!”
You turned over your shoulder to find blue-eyes finishing up at the counter and swinging his bag over his shoulder, a new ticket in his right hand. He jogged a few paces to catch up with you as you stilled.
“Any chance you’ll let me replace that coffee?” he asked with a warm smiling brimming on his lips.
“What?” you gaped.
You glanced down at your faded leggings, worn sneakers, and flannel hanging loosely over your shoulders. You didn’t consider yourself the type that men approached for that sort of thing, especially men with eyes that blue and a voice like honey.
“I figure it’s going to be a long night and finding sleep in a place like this is almost impossible,” he chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “so why not stock up on caffeine? I know a café in Terminal C with a halfway decent blend and its usually pretty empty.”
“Oh,” you muttered anxiously, cheeks heating red because a man that gorgeous couldn't possibly be serious. The suspicion was already creeping up through your stomach, screaming at you that he was like the rest of them, like he was exactly like your ex, that he would hurt you or that he was looking for repayment of some kind. You didn’t have much experience of anything else. “Well, I don’t-- I don’t know--”
“You can say no,” he offered quickly, though he winced as he said it. “Of course, you know you can say no. What I mean is, you can tell me to ‘eff off’ and I’ll leave you alone, but I just thought... I thought that guy was a jerk and he ruined a perfectly good full cup of coffee and if you wanted, I’m happy to get you a new one. I just—I figured that your night is already pretty shitty with the flights being grounded and then that sonuvabitch -- who didn’t even apologize -- yelled at you for no reason and--” he grimaced. “I’m rambling. Sorry.”
You watched him carefully, studied the way he fumbled over his words, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, even through the light scratches of his beard. It was almost endearing. You hadn’t seen a man blush like that before. There was a lingering kind of sadness behind the ocean blue of his eyes you couldn’t quite place and it drew you in unlike anything else.
“Terminal C, huh?” you asked, pulling the nerves from your voice the best you could and his smile lit up again instantly.
“Yeah, Terminal C. It’s a bit of a walk, as long as you don’t mind?” he said, lugging his bag over his shoulder and gesturing for you to follow him out into the hall.
“Don’t got much else to do,” you shrugged, surprised that you found yourself smiling as you strolled up next to him.
He had a comforting kind of ease to him and you wondered why he also seemed to be relieved by cancelations. You had your reasons and looking around at the frustrated looks on bystanders faces as you walked by, the arguments amongst family members, the children crying, you couldn’t help but question why blue-eyes didn’t seem to be bothered at all.
“My name’s Bucky, by the way,” he said as he stepped aside at the moving walkway, letting you pass by him to take the first step. He slid onto the walkway behind you with one step.
“Well, it’s nice to be meet you, Bucky,” you replied sincerely, leaning against the right side of the railing as the floor beneath you carried you slowly down the hallway. You had the time to be leisurely and let the walkway move for you.
In the brief moment of silence that followed, Bucky was smiling as he stared at the floor, stealing glances over at you like he was waiting for something. You were about to ask him what he was looking at until he asked, “do I get the pleasure of your name as well, or should we save that for later?”
You laughed, the nervousness offsetting the embarrassment of completely forgetting obvious social cues. Gripping at the edge of the railing, you watched as he stared out into the sea of people as you rode by, smiling softly at the kids who were curled up under their parents’ coats draped over them in blankets and laughing, almost impressed, at the teenagers who had started gathering in a circle, all huddled around their portable games.
Pushing out a kind of confidence you hadn’t known in years, you said, “you buy me that coffee you were talking about and maybe I’ll give you a name.”
Bucky grinned, turning back to face you, clearly amused by your answer. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Walking at a leisurely pace, it took a half hour before Bucky gestured for you to stop in front of a small café tucked into the corner next to one of the empty gates, lights barely illuminated with a single staff member hunched behind the counter on his cell phone. The tables were empty and it looked like no one had been there all day with the shelves of to-go items fully stocked.
“Welcome to the best coffee in the Charlotte Airport,” Bucky grinned, extending his arm out like he was showing off a new car. You narrowed your eyes on his, pursing you lips and he dropped his hand, chuckling lightly. “I never said it was particularly good, but it’s not terrible. Plus, we’ve got the place to ourselves if you allow me to stick around.”
“You want to?” you asked, cursing yourself for how timid you sounded. Another thing to blame your ex for. The ex whose wedding you’re supposed to be attending tomorrow. Goddamnit.
“Don’t got much else to do,” he shrugged, repeating your words from when he had asked you to come with him in the first place with a teasing kind of smile that made your stomach twist into knots.
You nudged him hard in the side, laughing, and he stumbled away a few paces, grinning wildly until it crinkled up by his eyes. You wondered if you’d ever seen a man more beautiful in your life, though you pushed the thought away quickly.
Bucky jogged up to the front counter, gathering the attention of the teenager on his phone as he slowly glanced up, slipping his phone into his pockets.
“What can I get you?” the kid asked, voice low and slow, like he’d just woken up from a nap.
“Anything fancy for you or keep it simple?” Bucky turned back, asking over his shoulder. You gave him your order and he smiled at it, ordering one of the same. The teenager didn’t seem to be amused by Bucky’s charming smile and huffed an exasperated sigh as he started to make the drinks.
“You sure you don’t mind?” you asked as Bucky handed over his card.
“It’s just a coffee, doll. I don’t mind at all,” he said, the pet name rolling off his tongue as if it didn’t mean much of anything. It left a burning, twisting ache in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks, forcing you to nervously tug and pull your hair behind your ear.
You wondered if it was a name he gave for any woman whose name he hadn’t yet learned; perhaps, the same way older men called waitresses ‘sweetheart’ or the way the man in the suit had so patronizingly taunted it at you earlier, though there wasn’t even a hint of a condescending tone in Bucky’s voice. It was genuine. He was genuine.
You thanked him and followed him to the small table tucked in the corner of the café, away from the hall though with enough of a vantage point to watch for stranded passengers as they walked by. Terminal C seemed to be pretty empty so there wasn’t much chance for that, though he told you he liked to take every opportunity to people watch as he could. There was just something so fascinating about how strangers acted when they weren’t putting on a show, when they were at ease, purely themselves.
You set your new ticket on the table, keeping a watchful eye of the flight number like the attendant had instructed you to in case any changes were made overhead. Bucky did the same and you noticed they put him on a separate flight. The ounce of disappointment didn’t slip your notice but you shoved it aside.
“The departure board’s got more red on it than green,” Bucky said as he settled into his chair, “might be time to seek food and shelter and buckle in for a long night.”
“You sure you’re in Charlotte Douglas and not the Hunger Games?” you laughed, adjusting your bag next to your feet.
“You’ve never endured an overnight in Charlotte, have you?” he countered teasingly.
You shook your head and he let out a heavy sigh, though a smile brimmed on his cheeks, almost like he was excited.
“The hotel’s already booked up by now and as soon as these people realize they’re not getting a flight out of here until tomorrow morning, hell is gonna break lose,” he informed you, carefully watching a family of five as they passed by hand in hand out in the walkway. The father had an anxious kind of look on his face every time he glanced at the youngest of the children as if he was expecting for the boy to realize at any second he wasn’t going to be in his bed tonight with his favorite stuffed animals. He was a ticking time bomb.
“We’ve got about an hour left before the food joints start shutting down and then after that, nothing until six-thirty sharp,” Bucky continued, “Plus, you figure you need to secure an outlet or two and a decent place to sleep, if you’re able to do that sort of thing in a place like this.”
“Good lord,” you exhaled, crossing your arms over your chest as you smirked at him, “guess you better get started.”
“Oh, I am,” he replied casually with a shrug. “Step one is securing alliances.”
You narrowed your eyes on him, scouring his face for signs that he was mocking you and searching behind him for a hoard of his buddies hanging over his shoulder snickering to themselves as their friend messed with the sad girl alone at the airport, you came up completely empty.
“You’re actually serious?” you gaped.
He nodded. “Of course. I’ve already got the caffeine and the ally. We’ll need to secure some snacks next. When you’re ready, of course. Though, we do have a time restraint here so don’t be too long with your coffee.”
“Well, for one, I can take this on the go,” you joked, lifting up your coffee with a teasing grin.
“See how well that went last time though? Can’t risk running into any other asshole businessmen in expensive suits worth a month of your salary, sweetheart!” Bucky mimed eccentrically, trying to mock the voice of the man in the suit but failing halfway through in a fit of laughter.
“Okay, fine,” you conceded, removing the lid to your cup and letting the steam loose. You sighed at the fresh smell of coffee as it filled your lungs and warmth spread through you before you could even take a sip. “So, we stay here for a bit and finish our drinks. Then we’ll find snacks. Then what?”
Bucky shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee before he spoke again. The content sigh that followed sent shivers up your spine. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, doll. It’s a process.”
“Naturally,” you agreed with a smile on your lips so wide it ached in your cheeks.
Bucky sighed, leaning back into his chair, glancing out into the walkway and studying those who passed by. He was so content, so unbothered by the cancellation, as he casually sipped his coffee, stealing glances over in your direction every so often, you couldn’t help the curiosity as it built up.
“So, you were going to Atlanta, too?” you asked before you took another sip of the steaming coffee.
“Trying to. It’s been, uh, it’s been a while since I’ve gone down there,” he replied, though his smile faltered a bit before he could catch it. You narrowed your eyes on him, surprised by his reaction, though you didn’t push it at all. He cleared his throat, pushing it back out though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How's the coffee?”
“Wonderful now that it’s not covering the back of a furious businessman’s suit,” you responded, taking another sip. Bucky chuckled under his breath and you found yourself missing the soft glimmer behind his eyes. It returned when you asked him about the last time he’d been stranded in Charlotte, as he clearly had experience with it.
He spent the next half hour telling you every ridiculous story you couldn’t have made up if you tried about the bizarre things he’d witnessed at three in the morning walking around the terminals and what kinds of trouble he got in back in his younger days with the airport security for doing cartwheels down the halls.
“Cartwheels?” you laughed, struggling to keep your breath as your eyes watered. “You can’t be serious…”
Bucky was beaming as he nodded, all blue eyes and pink lips and chocolate colored hair raking through his fingers. He pointed over your shoulder to an open space by the escalator.
“I crashed into the railing right over there,” he nodded, then gesturing to his hip bone, “it landed me a bruise for a few months right on my side.”
“How old were you?” you asked, struggling to contain your laughter enough to take another sip of your coffee that was already room temperature.
Bucky scratched the back of his neck, cheeks red, and so incredibly adorable it was simply unfair. “Twenty-one.”
“Of course, you were.” You shook your head, watching as he hid behind his coffee cup as he took a big gulp, evading your eyes and glancing over to the open space like he was caught up in memories.
“So, what about you?” he asked as he set his coffee down again. “You ever been stranded here?”
“Fortunately not,” you shrugged, finishing off your drink with a content sigh. You glanced over at the clock, wondering how so much time had passed without even realizing it. It had been ages since you’d felt that way around someone.
“Sounds like you're in need of some Charlotte layover tradition then, doll,” Bucky grinned, something mischievous brewing in his head as he chugged back the rest of his lukewarm coffee and tossed the cup into the nearest trash with a full layup stance. He did the same with yours. “Come with me.”
He extended his hand to you as he stood, long lifelines extending along his palm and you noticed a sliver of marred scarring peeking out behind the sleeve of his over-shirt. You narrowed your eyes on it, curious, but he pushed down the fabric nervously.
“Please, doll. I promise it’ll be fun,” he urged, not letting his hand drop away even as you eyed him reluctantly.
“How do you know my idea of fun? You still don’t know my name,” you teased, having already decided to take up his offer the moment he extended his hand but it was so incredibly endearing to watch his nerves on display.
“Oh, I know, but I’m confident you’ll tell me soon enough,” he said, grinning wildly as you slipped your hand into his regardless. Firm and rough, with callouses on his hands like he’d spent years in service and labor jobs, but gentle like he was holding something precious as he helped you stand. An enigma.
The teenager behind the counter had been watching you with an irritable look on his face and you nudged Bucky’s side as he picked up both of your bags in his free hand. Bucky followed your gaze and then took a quick glance at the clock before he started to laugh, pulling you towards the hall.
“Think we overstayed our welcome here,” he grimaced, nodding to his watch that read it was past midnight. “Coffee shop was supposed to close ten minutes ago.”
“Oh no,” you pouted, turning back to the cashier with an apologetic smile as you called, “sorry about that!” over your shoulder.
Bucky led you to the center of the hall. Around you were a few stranded passengers from flights heading out west, all looking like they’ve been kicked and dragged through the mud. Meanwhile, Bucky was smiling like he just won the lottery. You didn’t realize his hand was still gripped in yours until he dropped your bags beside him with a heavy thud and he let go.
He took in a deep breath, sending a wink in your direction as he took a single step away from you and pushed his hands out into the sky, swing his momentum around in an acrobatic swing that was admittingly quite awful, with bent legs and wobbling landing, but... a cartwheel.
Holy shit, he was serious.
A few random passengers lying on the floor had propped up to look in his direction before turning over to ignore him. Bucky wiped his hands on his pants as he grimaced at the dirt he’d collected. He nodded at a woman in high heels as she walked past giving him a strange look of both disgust and attraction. She might have been eyeing him before he went and did that ridiculous cartwheel, but a man that handsome had some allowances for odd behavior, didn’t he? She seemed to think so, but Bucky paid her no mind as he turned back to you.
“Your turn.”
“Absolutely not,” you scoffed, laughing nervously as you took a step back.
“Absolutely, yes,” Bucky retorted, grabbing your hands and tugging you to the spot where he was just standing. “This is tradition, doll. You can’t mess with a tradition.”
“Do you realize how insane you sound?” you accused, though you were smiling so wide it started to hurt in your cheeks. His hands were still on yours and his lifted them above your head, nudging your feet with his shoes to get you in starting position.
“You’ve done a cartwheel before, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” you shot back, “back when I was fifteen, Bucky!”
He grinned, stepping back and letting go of your hands. “Then you’ll be perfect. Just like riding a bike.”
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s the same thing,” you mumbled, blushing as a middle-aged couple walked by and rolled their eyes at the two of you. Bucky must have noticed.
“Don’t worry about them, doll,” Bucky said quietly, arms folded over his chest as he planted his feet, waiting patiently. He smiled softly at you, the overly confident and borderline cartoonish character falling away for a moment and you found yourself lost in shades of blue you could have drowned in if he’d let you.
Shit. You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his. Stop thinking like that.
Do the damn cartwheel.
Bucky rubbed his hands together in anticipation and you closed your eyes. One deep breath in, you held it in your lungs as you propelled yourself onto your hands, touching the ground with the full of your weight for only a second before you were on your feet again.
Guess it was like riding a bike.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Bucky shouted, drawing the attention of the very irritated passengers attempting to sleep in the corner of the hall. It was still midnight, after all. But in the mist of his energy and the way he was smiling at you and rushing towards you to high-five your hands now covered in a thin layer of dirt, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care about the wondering eyes of the stranded observers.
“We better get those snacks before the shop closes,” he said, turning to you with a massive smile.
How was it possible to so easily get lost in the eyes of a stranger you hardly knew? Blue and grey waves sharper and softer than that of the ocean. Pink in his lips that drew you in and you didn’t realize you were staring until he grabbed your hand, tugging you along.
You started to laugh as he dragged you down the hall, not letting go of your hand as he led you down to a corner store with walls lined with snacks. He grinned like a kid in a candy store and gestured for you to walk in like it was a five-star restaurant. The fact that he waved at the cashier who returned his greeting in a familiar smile didn’t slip your notice.
“Do you know him?” you asked, following Bucky further into the store to the back wall lined with snacks, in past the magazines and novelty t-shirts.
“Charlie and I go way back,” he nodded, strolling carefully through the aisles, hands clasped behind his back as he contemplated his choices and he glanced back up at you, smiling that sweet smile that made your stomach twist. Though he paused as he said, “I used to get trapped here overnight a lot growing up.”
He lost his smile a bit as he spoke and it surprised you, unsure of what kind of memory he was thinking back to that could possibly take even a sliver of his smile away from him. You grabbed a bag of your favorite chips from the wall and tossed it over at him. They hit him straight in the chest and he caught them before they fell, the smile returning quickly as he looked over at you with a feigned look of offense.
He grabbed a few bags off the wall after careful selection and raised them up for your approval. You nodded at every choice, except for the bag of jerky he’d held up teasingly. Once he’d gathered enough to fill his arms, a solid mix of salty chips and sweet chocolates and candies, he made his way up to the cashier.
Charlie’s name tag was long faded and he looked like he had been working here for decades. He took his time scanning through Bucky’s items, though he raised an eyebrow at the bag of Skittles and Bucky nodded, a silent conversation between the two before Charlie slipped the candy into the bag.
True to his word, Bucky pushed aside the cash from your hand as you tried to pay and he handed Charlie his card. You grunted, doing that little dance most couples do on a first date when the bill comes, though you started to blush as soon as the thought made its way into your head.
This wasn’t a date. This was... well, you didn’t know what this was, but it was certainly anything but a date.
An acid trip, maybe? An elaborate dream? One of those cheesy Hallmark movies where an angel or a ghost from your past teaches you how to open up and love again?
Probably.
But definitely not a date. He didn’t even know your name.
By the time Bucky gathered the bags of snacks and you followed him out to the main walkway, stranded passengers had begun lining up at every fast-food join within sight, lines carrying far down into the hallway and grumbled groans as managers came out to inform the crowds they were running out of food.
“What did I tell you?” Bucky grinned, nudging your shoulder and you shook your head, trying to suppress your laughter. “Chaos starts once these tourists realize they’re trapped. Someone’s going to start trying to buy food off of people before they take their first bite. Just you wait.”
He was something from a dream, you were sure of it.
“Okay, fearless leader. What’s next?”
He chuckled at that and your stomach flipped a little, though you did your best to ignore it.
“Outlets and shelter,” he replied matter-of-factly, like he’d done this dozens of times before, as he studied the hallway to the left and right, determining which was the better way to go. He chewed on his lip, clearly caught in thought before he straightened his back and turned to you with a grin. “I’ve got a place in mind. You trust me?”
“I don’t know you and you still don’t know my name,” you responded teasingly, though somehow, you knew the answer was yes.
“Sometimes trust is something you learn over time and sometimes it’s a gut instinct,” he shrugged, offering you his hand. “What’s your gut telling you, doll?”
“That you might be an insane person... or an abirritation,” you laughed, though you grabbed onto his hand and let him lead you out into the hallway, “but clearly, I’m okay with that.”
“That’s all I need,” Bucky beamed, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster until you were practically jogging.
Lugging your suitcase behind you as Bucky held a firm grip onto the bags of snacks in on hand and you in the other, he led you far away from the crowds of people, past the moving walkways and the food courts, past the gates with attendants behind the counter, until the lights were dimmer and you passed by nearly five gates that were completely empty.
He let go of your hand and gestured to the gate marked A29 with a familiar smile on his face, though it seemed a little sad with a crease forming in his brow and a slight tremble of his hand clenching by his side.
“How did you know this place would be deserted?” you asked in awe as you tossed your bag onto one of the dozens of open chairs, spinning yourself around freely like you were in the meadows on a warm summer day and not currently trapped in an airport with a monsoon outside and stuffy air-conditioning blowing through the vents.
“Had a hunch,” he replied, though when you rolled your eyes playfully at him, he chuckled, conceding, “I saw this terminal had most of its flights out before the storm broke. Figured it would be pretty untouched for the rest of the night.”
“You’ve been out here before,” you observed, catching the way he stared longingly over at a corner by the desk like he was watching an old memory play out in front of him. Though he wore his smile again, it was softer now, sadder. He seemed caught up in his imagination and you took a careful step forward, tapping on his shoulder and smiling enough for the both of you. “Come on. I’ve got first dibs on the Doritos.”
“So,” Bucky started, “you never said why you were going to Atlanta.”
“Neither did you, smart guy. Why would I give that information away to a complete stranger?” you teased, following Bucky as he led you to the series of outlets against the wall. You slid down the window, leaning against it as rain pummeled against the glass from the other side.
Bucky shrugged, smiling encouragingly as he sat down next to you and pulled his phone charger from his bag. “You don’t have to tell me anything, doll, but I noticed the way you smiled when the gate agent announced our flight was cancelled when everyone else was groaning and crying. You were smiling. Just curious, is all.”
You narrowed your eyes at that, watching him silently as he plugged his phone in and the face of a young girl illuminated on the screen. She was smiling, almost mid-laugh, and Bucky was off in the background of the image, racing towards her, perhaps a few years younger judging by the haircut. She looked a little like him.
You wondered then if she had anything to do with why he had lost some of his energy as he came up on this gate, falling into a memory he recognized. He was complex man; you’d give him that.
“I was... um... going to a wedding,” you confessed slowly and Bucky smirked, pleased to get something out of you.
“You sound unsure about that,” he pointed out, ripping open a bag of chips and plopping four into his mouth.
You shrugged, “yeah, well, even if I make it in time tomorrow, I still don’t know if I’ll go.”
“Why’s that? Seems like a long way to travel if you’re not gonna--”
“The groom is my ex.”
“Oh shit,” Bucky coughed on the chips that were about halfway down his throat. He leaned over, heaving into a napkin and you rubbed at his back instinctively, careful circles over the soft fabric of his t-shirt as his whole body shook with each cough. You pulled away with a blush as he smiled at you once the fit subsided. He sat back again the wall, brushing his wrist over his lips as he stole another look over at you. “You’re joking.”
“Afraid not,” you shrugged, pressing your lips into a thin line.
You were embarrassed to even say it aloud, to have to first explain to all of your friends why you agreed to go even as they begged you not to, to have to pack your bag and tell your mother why you won’t be home for Sunday dinner, to have to say it even to this man who was practically a stranger who’s approval and kindness you suddenly found yourself craving. Two years since the break-up and you still struggled to get past the man who broke your heart. Saying no to your ex, to Jack, wasn’t something you were used to and it came as old habit.
“This monsoon might have just saved you from a weekend in hell,” Bucky exhaled, turning to face you with a smile that lightened the anxiety in your chest. He offered you the bag of chips and you took them gratefully.
“You’re probably right,” you said, tossing a few chips into your mouth, though you knew the universe would find a way to get you to that wedding, whether or not you were ready for it.
“You on good terms with the guy, at least?” Bucky asked and you shook your head, clenching your jaw.
He frowned, though he didn’t press you any further as he must have noticed your cheeks flush, shame seeping in you. Bucky let out a tired exhale, leaning back against the window and slumping further to the floor.
He cared, that much you could tell. He was bothered by the fact that you were going to this wedding, alone, and that even with all that you didn’t even have a good post-breakup relationship with the guy. You wondered how it was possible for someone to learn to care so fast and what your night would have been like if he hadn’t been standing directly behind you in that line, if the monsoon never rolled in and this handsome, incredibly endearing stranger never stormed into your life.
Would you have gone to that wedding, watched the man you once thought was the love of your life devote himself to a woman after he broke your heart over his inability to commit? Would you have cried through the ceremony and drank yourself into obligation because he’d hurt you so bad you hadn’t been able to even date since he left you?
Would you have boarded that flight without a second thought to the stranger with the blue eyes and the infectious smile?
“What about you?” you asked carefully, taking another bite of the chips before handing it to him.
“What? You trying to do a something-personal-for-something-personal kind of thing?” Bucky laughed, though there was a nervous edge to his voice.
“Only if you want,” you offered, smiling gently at him and giving him the out if he wanted it. It hadn’t been very long since he avoided the question the first time when you had been sitting over coffee in the empty café.
He took in a heavy breath, though it was shaken. You narrowed your eyes, watching him carefully as he sat up, straightening his back and brushing his hair back from his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m, supposed to uh, I’m supposed to see...” he sighed, scratching at the back of his neck, his voice falling low suddenly. His lips pursed into a frown and the light faded from the blue of his eyes. Something was clearly bothering him and he couldn’t seem to even string the words together.
“I haven’t seen her since I... and my ma says that I’ve been...” he groaned, clenching his jaw and running his hand over his lips. He wasn’t making much sense, that much was clear to the both of you. His eyes fell to the floor and he was only a whisper of the man who stood laughing at the hoard of passengers at your gate.
He was layered, dimensional; both the man with confidence unlike you’d ever seen and the shy, nervous guy with a heart bigger than most men you knew.
Your stomach hurt just watching him struggle to answer your question.
“Y/n,” you blurted out, catching his attention and he raised an eyebrow. You let out a steady breath. “My name. It’s Y/n. Something personal for something personal, right?”
Bucky nodded, repeating your name back to you and a soft smile came over his lips. It sounded like velvet and honey and all kinds of wonderful coming from his voice. He relaxed a bit, the tension slipping from his shoulders. “It’s a nice name. Y/n. Suits you.”
But his voice was still low, aching, and it made your heart twist.
“Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and lugging him back up to his feet, determined to bring back the witty and charismatic man who threw you into this mess to begin with. You didn’t like seeing him upset.
“Thought you wanted to know--”
“Not now,” you replied casually and you could practically feel the weight lift off his shoulders as you dragged him over to the massive checkers set in the corner of the gateway set aside for restless travelers. “I’ve got a preposition for you.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I get to ask you a question every time I knock one of your pieces off the board,” you proposed, positioning yourself on the side of the board with red chips as big as your shoes, “and if you get one of mine, you get to ask me a question.”
“Do I have to answer?” Bucky teased, folding his arms over his chest and you could already see him coming back into himself.
“Only if you don’t want to be a total loser,” you shrugged kicking your piece out to make the first move. Bucky laughed and squatted down at the board, taking his time to determine his trajectory before he made his move.
It only took three turns before you knocked out one of his pieces.
“Truthfully now,” you started, eyeing him as he crossed his arms over his chest, “in all of your layovers, how many people have you dragged around this airport doing cartwheels and raiding convenience stores?”
A laugh burst from Bucky’s chest and you swore you’d never heard a more beautiful sound in your life, his whole body caught up in the moment. It had been a while since you’d seen someone laugh like that without trying to suppress it. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met, though, you supposed you knew that already.
Then he paused, folding his arms, studying you. “You want to know how many women, don’t you?”
“That’s not what I said,” you retorted, trying to hide your blush, though it was obvious as day.
“Only one before you in all my years,” he responded with a nod, “but she was a frequent flyer with me. Not what you think and certainly not the same.”
“That didn’t make a lot of sense, Bucky,” you accused with a grin, “you’re being cryptic.”
“Maybe you should ask a more specific question next time,” he countered with a sink.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled as Bucky started to eye the board for his move.  
“So, you think I’m cute?”
You froze, heat flushing into your cheeks as you realized what you said. Glaring up at Bucky as he watched you amusingly. You rolled your eyes.
“Like you don’t already know,” you huffed, trying to push aside the embarrassment you felt through a playful smile.
“Still, it’s nice to hear,” Bucky grinned, nudging his piece to jump over yours and he discarded the red coin off to the side. “How long were you with this ex?”
Your breath hitched in your lungs and you cleared your throat, taking your time to meet his eye again. “You don’t mess around, do you?”
“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ on the purse of his lips.
“Three years,” you said quickly, before you could lose your nerve. “He was my college boyfriend. Had plans to move in together and talked about getting married ourselves before he decided he’d rather ‘explore his options’ once graduation came around. Hadn’t heard from him since. Until I got the invite to his wedding. Guess he found a better option.”
“Yikes,” Bucky winced, “what an asshole. Why did you even agree to go to his wedding?”
“Sorry, you already used up your question. Better wait for your next turn.” You winked at him, holding your pointer finger up as you maneuvered your way around the board to find your next move. It was a relief to cut him off. Your relationship with Jack wasn’t an easy one to talk about and you didn’t want him to think of you the way Jack often saw you; small and spineless. So, you pushed out a smile and pretended you were fine.
Bucky shook his head, armed folded over his chest enough to see the prominent outline of the muscles in his biceps, and he laughed at your response. It was a sweet kind of sound that made your chest fell warm, even with the anxiety in your stomach at the very thought of your ex. It was genuine for as often as he did it and it seemed to live permanently etched into his cheeks.
You went back and forth for a few turns, each picking off the other’s pieces on every round. He asked you about your family, about your favorite flavor of ice cream, about your movie preferences and your day job. You asked him about the scars lining his left arm, peeking out as he scratched at his wrist and he told you it was from an accident on the job, though he didn’t elaborate further. You asked about the college shirt he was wearing any why he dared to go to school in Georgia if he was really a New Yorker like he claimed, though he laughed it off and said it wasn’t his alma mater. You asked about his typical coffee order and hair routine and how he got it so fluffy and he laughed so hard, tears welled in his eyes.
It was almost a half hour of the simpler questions before Bucky knocked out another one of your pieces with satisfied hum and took a moment to think of his question. He watched you for a moment, studying you almost, and your stomach lurched a little. Not because he made you uncomfortable, but because you could see the carefulness behind his eyes, the soft smile on his face, and a man like that looking at you like you were something special was an unfamiliar feeling to say the least.
“You don’t really think this woman he’s marrying is ‘the better option,’ do you?”
You bit down so hard on your lip you drew blood. The sincerity of his question threw you and your heart must have skipped about a dozen beats before you could even blink. Bucky must have noticed your sudden distress and he clenched his jaw. A red heat formed in his cheeks you never would have expected.
“Maybe I should say I’m not trying to pry, but I clearly am,” he admitted with a tired laugh. “I’ve only known you for a few hours, Y/n, and I don’t know how anyone could think you’re anything but the best option. And if this guy was with you for years, it shouldn’t even be a question.”
“That’s... that’s really kind, Bucky, but you don’t know me,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eye and losing every ounce of confidence you had clung to around him. Jack had a way of doing that to you, even when he wasn’t around.
But Bucky was determined. He shook his head, crossing the board and grabbing a tender hold of your arms, urging you to look at him. His hands were warm against you, large, a little calloused and rough on the edges but so incredibly gentle.
“I know that you treated that poor gate agent with empathy and patience and got him to laugh after the hell storm of passengers who had just spent their time yellin’ at the guy. I know that you agreed to follow a borderline intrusive stranger through an airport at midnight at the promise of caffeine,” he said, smiling sweetly. “I know that you apologize to teenage employees for staying a few minutes past close without realizing it. I know that you can do a near perfect cartwheel and how you take your coffee.”
“Bucky, I--”
“I know that you’re funny and adventurous and kind. I know that you’re incredibly perceptive and you changed the subject when you caught onto how hard it was for me to tell you why I’m going to Atlanta,” Bucky said casually, sternly almost just to make you believe him, as if his words didn’t make your heart swell so much in your chest it hurt. “Your ex is an asshole, is all I’m saying. He never should have said something like that to you. You’re someone’s best option, you hear me? Don’t settle for some jerk who tells you you’re anything less.”
You swallowed nervously, getting caught in deep oceans of blue and grey as Bucky held onto you. There wasn’t a trace of anything but sincerity in his eyes and you wondered how it was possible he even existed. He rubbed gently at your arms, like he was trying to draw warmth, and the smile on his lips was enough to float butteries in your stomach.
“Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, sincerely, and he nodded at you encouragingly.
He stepped back to his side of the board and you missed him standing so close to you, missing his hands on you, and you clenched your jaw, trying to push the feelings away.
“Since you didn’t technically answer my question, I’m asking another one,” he said lightly, grinning wildly and it brought back the smile to your face. “You’re from New York, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Queens. Live there now, too,” you replied, wondering how on earth he was able to deduce that and watching the way he smiled to himself, nodding. “Why?”
“Not your turn to ask questions, Y/n,” Bucky teased, though he seemed pleased with your answer. “Make your move, Queens.”
You laughed, already feeling light again and amazed by how easy it was for him to bring that back out in you. You nudged a piece with your foot and swerved it around of two of his. You kicked two black pieces off the board.
“That’s two questions,” you pointed out and he shrugged, challenging you.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you studied him for a moment. There were a million different questions you could ask. You thought about asking whether he’d been born and raised in the city like you, if he’d ever traveled abroad, what the military tag on his suitcase was for and if he ever served. You wondered if he was single, if this was a one night thing where you’d go your separate ways and never see one another again, if he was really as kind and as charming as he seemed because you still couldn’t believe he was real.
You were about to ask him something trivial because you were too afraid to get an answer that would break your heart when he cleared his throat.
“Or,” he started, nervously, “you could ask one big question?”
You narrowed your eyes, confused, and waiting for him to continue.
He sighed. “You could ask about my sister. If you want?”
You paused, watching the way he swayed in his stance, arms fold tightly across his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. She must be the girl in the picture on his phone, the reason why he started acting strange, upset, when he tried to tell you why he was going to Atlanta.
He nodded at you and you could tell he was ready, that he wanted to talk about it now, and you gestured to the wall adjacent to the game. He followed you silently, sliding down the wall to take a seat on the floor next to you. He folded his legs under him while you tucked your knees up to your chest, waiting patiently. You didn’t know the question to ask, but he let out a heavy sigh and started for you.
“Her name’s Rebecca. Bec. We used to travel alone a lot when we were kids to go see our dad,” Bucky said softly, scratching the back of his neck. “We had layovers here a lot and if the flight got cancelled, we’d just get stuck overnight. I mean, I was old enough to watch out for her okay so it wasn’t a big deal, but she used to get scared. So, I started making it a game. It happened more times than you would think and it managed to make her feel better, got her laughing. We used to spend all our money at that convenience shop on chips and candy and race in these halls and do cartwheels and blast music and play games over by that gate.”
You smiled as Bucky talked. He stared off across the gate to where your bags were, over where the memory he had been reliving earlier was, and avoided your eyes, but you knew this wasn’t the hard part of the story. You let him keep going without interruption.
“We got to know some of the people who worked here over the years, like Charlie,” he continued, though his voice dropped a little as he tried to clear his throat. He took in a heavy breath but he struggled to find his words again.
“That sounds really nice, Bucky,” you said encouragingly and he nodded.
“Yeah, she uh, she used to love it, but we don’t-- she doesn’t talk to me anymore,” he confessed, clenching at his jaw painfully and winging his hands in his lap.
You watched as he yanked and pulled on his fingers, a nervous habit you used to see in your father after he’d been in a near fatal car accident, a symptom of anxiety. Without giving yourself a second to back out, you reached into his lap and placed your hands over his until they stilled.
He froze, staring down at your hands and allowed you to pull his left from his right and carefully grasp it in your own hand, holding it tight and offering him a gentle smile. He exhaled, relieved, and squeezed your hand before he continued.
“I enlisted right out of high school,” Bucky said, pulling your hand to rest on his thigh as he ran his free hand over the back of your palm. “Bec was so pissed at me. Especially when they sent me overseas. But she still wrote, still answered my calls. Until I got hit by an IED and got my whole arm shredded.”
He pulled up part of his sleeve to reveal marred skin under the t-shirt he wore. It was faded, healed over the years, but still ridged, still mutilated by the blast. He sighed, pushing it back down like looking at it was even difficult for him. You squeezed his hand.
“I was home for a bit, just trying to heal,” he continued, “but once I was cleared by the doc’s, I wanted to go back. That was the last straw for my sister. She—she just couldn’t understand why I’d go back after that. She said she’d never speak to me again if I did and I tried to tell her that I had a duty, that I had friends who died in that blast and being over here was hell for me. It was back then. But she didn’t understand. She still doesn’t and she held true to her word. She hasn’t spoken to me since I went back, not since I came home either. I’m out now and I still can’t get her to return my calls. She just cut me off completely.”
“Oh, Bucky,” you sighed, heart breaking as he bit on his lip, clearly trying to suppress a lump in his throat.
“I’m supposed to be going to her college graduation,” he said tensely, sniffling a bit. “She doesn’t know, but Mom’s been on me to fix things for years. I just... I don’t know how and I’m fucking terrified that she’s going to take one look at me and tell me to leave or turn her back to me or, I don’t know, ignore me completely. She’s my little sister and I miss her but I don’t know how to make her understand. I’m not sorry for going back. It’s what I needed to do but, I hate that I lost her because of it.”
It was silent for a moment and you watched as the clock opposite you turned on three in the morning. Bucky’s breaths were uneven beside you as he tried to pull himself together. Each passing moment you spent with him, you only wanted to learn more, wanted to ease him through his pain, to make him smile and laugh.
But there was a truth he needed to hear.
“I’m not sure she’ll ever understand, Bucky,” you said slowly and Bucky clenched his jaw. It was clearly something he’d been thinking about, though he didn’t want to admit it. You sighed, rubbing at his hand in slow circles. “I don’t think anyone but someone who has lived through what you have could understand wanting to go back. She clearly loves you and she was probably terrified for you. Sometimes, when someone you love puts themselves back into the heart of danger like that, it's easier to shut down than deal with the possibility of losing them.”
Bucky nodded, taking in your words. You gave him the time he needed, letting him sit with the silence and the thoughts in his head until he was ready. You watched the gears turning, watched as he squeezed your hand in even intervals, and let out a steady breath.
“Sorry I’m such a bummer,” he said after a while, a tired laugh in his voice and he shook his head as you started to object. “I hate that I was relieved when our flight got canceled but I know I’ll have to find a way there regardless. I thought I’d spend tonight in this airport just sitting in my anxiety and thinking about all the ways I’ll disappoint her again, but then you spilled your coffee all over that pretentious asshole and you... you caught me by surprise, Y/n.”
He turned to you, his free hand snaking up to slide along your cheek, cupping the side of your face as his fingers danced in your hair. The way he was looking at you, with startling shades of blue and a sincerity you hadn’t known in a man in years, your stomach twisted and turned on itself in the best possible way. His eyes flickered down to your lips.
“It’s your turn,” you whispered, eyes drifting over to the game.
“Will you let me see you again?” he asked quietly without skipping a beat, not even bothering with the pieces on the board and you didn't mind, not as he was leaning closer to you, his breath against your skin.
His lips touched yours and it was sweet and short so impossibly brief because suddenly the overhead speakers let out a sharp, high-pitched chime as the transmitter turned on. You jumped at the shock of it and Bucky pulled away, the spell broken and the ghost of his lips aching on your own.
“Attention passengers flying from Charlotte to Atlanta on flight 937,” the voice called in muffled tone, “Please see an agent at Gate B9. Your flight is now scheduled to depart at 3:50am.”
You sunk against the wall and Bucky fiddled nervously with his hands.
“That’s your flight, isn’t it?” he asked, disappointed and you nodded. He sighed, hulling himself back up to his feet and offering you his hand. “We better get you over there in time, then.”
You looked up at him for a moment and contemplated just skipping the flight to spend a few more hours with him. Was it insane? Naïve? Maybe. But he was unlike anyone else you’d ever met and you didn’t think you could stand this being the last time you saw him.
“Come on,” he smiled sweetly, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “I’ll walk you to your gate and everything, be a proper gentleman since you’d been so gracious tonight before I send you off--”
“Attention passengers flying from Charlotte to Atlanta on flight 1176,” the voice spoke again and Bucky froze, “please see an agent at Gate C2. Your new flight is now scheduled to depart at 3:30am.”
“Shit,” he cursed, glancing down at his watch to find it was already nearing 3:20. He clenched his jaw, looking down at you apologetically. “I... I have to go.”
You took his hand and he helped you back up to your feet, though he didn’t let go right away. He stared at you for a moment, longingly, like leaving right now was the last thing he wanted to do. It was the last thing you wanted, too.
You walked with him, hand in hand, to the side of the gateway with your bags. He stuffed the snacks into the plastic bag and handed them to you, though you tried to resist, but he shoved them into your backpack with a smile anyway.
“Take the skittles, at least,” you tried to persuade him, “you picked those out.”
“I can’t stand ‘em, actually,” he chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “I always got them for Bec. Guess I was a little stuck in routine.”
“So, take them with you,” you encouraged, kneeling down next to him and pulling the red bag from your luggage and placing it in his hands. He stared down at it for a moment, tensely. He didn’t meet your eye but you carefully rubbed at his shoulder until the tension drained. “Bring them for her. Call it a peace offering.”
Bucky smiled sadly, but he nodded, the appreciation clear in his eyes as he rose back to his feet and offered you his hand, which you took effortlessly.
“How did I manage to find you?” he asked so quietly so you almost didn’t hear it. He was watching you with a kind of bewilderment in his eye and your cheeks began to flush, until you noticed the clock affixed to the wall over his shoulder. Your heart sank.
“You should get going, Bucky. You’ll miss it,” you said, trying to mask the sadness in your voice though it did little use.
“Yeah,” he replied. He didn’t move.
The two of you stood there for a few moments, just staring at one another, wishing the night didn’t have to end. But you had a wedding to attend. And he had a graduation.
“Bucky,” you urged again, squeezing his hand.
He nodded, detangling your fingers with a new kind of determination. He reached into his bag and dug around for a pen and paper. Scribbling messy handwriting on the notepad, he ripped off a page and handed it to you.
“Take this, please,” he said, and you grasped the crumpled paper in your hand. A series of numbers listed on one side in thick black ink. “You don’t have to do anything with it if you don’t want, but I hope you do. I hope you call.”
You nodded, running your thumb along the dried ink before you met his eye again; blue unlike even the clearest morning sky.
“I have to run,” Bucky said sadly as he started to back away. “Thanks for putting up with me for a while.”
“Thanks for asking me to,” you called back, watching as he walked backwards as long as he could until he checked his watch again and grimaced at the time.
He wanted to say more, that much you could tell, but there wasn’t time. He gave you one last wave and turned on his heels, sprinting down the terminal and taking a sharp left. You watched until he disappeared from view and you were alone in the gateway, surrounded by his memories and a new one of your own.
The crumpled paper stayed firm in your grasp the entire walk to your newly assigned gate, your mind caught on Bucky with every step. Even as you boarded, as you sat in your seat and closed the window shade, leaning against the wall in an attempt to find rest, the paper never left the grip of your hand.
A crumpled paper with a number of a stranger. A friend. Maybe something more if you let yourself believe it.
It was exciting and terrifying and magical at once.
You slipped the paper into your pocket as the plane left the runway and lifted into the air, whirring sounds of the engines and cabin pressure lulling you to sleep.
You thought only of Bucky; of blue eyes and nervous laughs, of cartwheels and potato chips, of painful questions and reassurance unlike you’d had in years, of rosy cheeks and soft pink lips.
You weren’t sure you’d ever think of anyone else again.
--
How does it start? And when does it end? Only been here for a moment, but I know I want you But is it too soon? To know that I’m with you There’s nothing I can do [I’m With You - Vance Joy]
feedback is so so appreciated 💖(apologies if you got tagged twice - the whole post deleted itself for a hot second lol)
tags 🌸@sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263​ / @pies-wands-and-more​ / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf​ / @breatheeagainnnn​ / @jewelofwinter​ / @panic-naran​ / @fairislesheets​ / @kaliforniacoastalteens​ / @captain-hammer-of-asgard​ / @daydreamsquad​ / @deanssweetheart​ / @maybesomedaytho​ / @montypythonsholysnail​ / @saharzek​ / @imsoft-barnes​ / @galaxkay​ / @vitamingrant​ / @alohafromhell1​ / @happyeyesandsunshine​ / @hillface89 / @searchingforbucky​ / @20coldhearts​ / @past-perfect-future-tense​ / @bucknasty-barnes​ / @clarysthing​ / @denimandcabernet​ / @ohthedevilsanus​ / @sarcasm-ing​ / @yknott81​
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starlost-andfound · 4 years ago
Text
Why Don’t We Daycare
Requested by @freakshows199 
Summary: The Why Don’t We boys are very skilled in music. But their babysitting skills are...questionable.
A/N: As per the request, there are 2 nieces and 1 nephew in this imagine. The first niece is 1 year old  : b/n (baby niece name)
The second niece is 8 years old : e/n (eight year old niece name)
The nephew is 7 years old : s/n (seven year old nephew name)
- - -
“Are you sure you boys can handle this?”, y/n asked over the phone.
Daniel groaned, “For the hundredth time, y/n, yes we can handle it. It’s just your nephew and two nieces and we love kids. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Y/n sighed thinking about all the possibilities. They could set the house on fire, lose the kids, burn the food, brea- “Y/n? You still there? Is that a yes?”
Y/n sighed, “Fine, yes you can babysit them.”
Y/n rolled her eyes as Daniel let out a squeal, “Yes! Thank you! We won’t let you down!”
“I sure hope so Seavey, I’m counting on you for this one.”
Y/n had to babysit her nieces and nephew over the weekend but she had some errands to run . She decided to put her trust in the Why Don’t We boys to babysit them while she ran her errands. 
Her first stop was the supermarket. After getting all her items, y/n decided to give the boys a call while waiting in line for the cashier.
“Hello, this is Daniel from Why Don’t We Daycare, how may I help you?”
Y/n rolled her eyes, “Har har, hilarious. Just checking in to see how everything is going.”
“Yep, everything's fine. Corbyn’s lecturing e/n about space, Zach and Jack are teaching s/n how to play UNO and Jonah just put b/n to sleep.”
“Huh, seems like you’ve got everything under control then,” y/n remarked, impressed.
“See, y/n. I told you, the kids are in good hands.”
After dropping the groceries off at her place, y/n passed by the library (a/n: I genuinely ran out of ideas as this point) to pick up some books for her school assignment. By the time she was done, it was nearing 3. She decided to pass by the café to pick up something for the boys and the kids to eat.
She ordered the boys’ usual and some pastries for s/n, b/n and e/n. On her way back, at a traffic stop, y/n noticed she had gotten 2 missed calls from Daniel and 3 from Jonah. 
“Oh god,” she called Jonah, putting him on speaker as the traffic light turned green again. “Hey Jonah, what’s with all the missed calls? Is everything okay?”
Jonah chuckled nervously, “Yeah everything’s fine, we just um...missed you that's all.”
Y/n frowned, “Okay? Are you sure?”
“100%, you can get back to your work, ” Jonah laughed awkwardly.
“Oh, I’m actually on my way back. Got some food for y’all.”
“Oh, okay um gotta go bye!”
Jonah quickly ended the call.
Jonah’s rushed response urged y/n to get back home a little quicker.  When she reached, she picked up the takeaway from the café and rang the doorbell.
“Oh my god, it’s y/n,” y/n heard one of the boys whispering. 
“Quick, put that there.”
Y/n knocked on the door, “Guys, is everything okay?”
Jack and s/n opened the door, “Heyyyy, y/n. What are you doing here?”
“Haha, nice one, Jack,” y/n stepped into the house, ruffling s/n’s hair. “Hey buddy, did you have fun with the boys?”. s/n chuckled nervously, “Yeah it was fun. We didn’t go into the living room at all.” 
Y/n frowned suspiciously, “Okay? Well I got some pastries for you,” she placed the pastries in the kitchen and started walking to the living room when e/n stepped in front of her.
“Aunty y/n!”, e/n hugged y/n’s legs, “Let’s stay here!”
Y/n laughed, gently detaching herself from her niece. “E/n, I just gotta see the boys, give me a second.”
Y/n walked into the living, almost jumping in surprise as she saw the rest of the boys standing in line in front of the tv. Jonah held b/n in his arms. Y/n took note of how they all had small smudges and smears of yellow paint on their clothes. 
“Hey? What are you all doing there? What's with the yellow paint”, she asked.
Corbyn chuckled, “Just chilling.”
“We decided to reveal b/n’s inner artist,” Daniel claimed. Zach elbowed Daniel in the ribs.
“Nothing to see here,” Zach laughed.
“Guys, move to the side,” y/n said, trying to get a view of what the boys were trying to hide.
Jack gulped, “I don't think that’s necessary y/n.” 
Y/n folded her arms over her chest, “Guys come on, move over.” They quietly shuffled to the side, a guilty look on all of their faces. Y/n gasped, the entire tv and the wall behind it was covered in smudges of yellow paint.
“HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN?!”
The boys turned to Zach who gulped, “I was painting with b/n and I looked away for just a second, I swear”
Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose, “Is there anything else I should know about?”
Corbyn shook his head, “Nope all good.”
“So...” Daniel looked up at y/n, “on a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your experience with Why Don’t We Daycare?”
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meterokinesis · 4 years ago
Text
Black and Blue
Read it on AO3
Prompt: “bruises”
TW for domestic violence, physical abuse, harm to children. Please read responsibly.
Summary: Bruce Wayne never expected his children to come to him whole. But he never expected Tim Drake to be so bruised.
(Or, Batman saves the boy who saved him)
Bruce never expected his children to come to him whole.
Dick had calluses and impacted musculoskeletal growth, along with an anger Bruce wasn’t sure would ever be sated. Jason was malnourished and coping with PTSD, and had scars with more history than most developed nations. But of them all, he expected Tim to be the least shattered; he’d grown up in the lap of luxury after all.
He never expected Tim to be so bruised.
                                           _________________
Tim was a smart kid, no doubt about that. Years ago, Bruce had taken a look at his records: straight A’s since kindergarten, fluency in three languages and working on a fourth, an IQ of 142. He wasn’t Lex Luthor, but it was impressive for a kid of just 13. Especially a kid who never seemed to stay in one place for long.
Tim’s school records revealed more than just his intelligence. He was taught by an au pair until kindergarten, then went to a private elementary school just outside Gotham for three years. From third to fifth grade he was enrolled at Gotham Academy as a boarder. Middle school was spent at another boarding school in Gotham, but he was allowed home on weekends. He’d start freshman year at a public school, Louis E. Grieves Memorial, the upcoming September.
Bruce didn’t pretend to know everything about child psychology, but he was sure that repeated upheavals were bad for any child, let alone one who was smarter than most of his classmates to begin with. He didn’t even want to think about Tim going to a public school in a few weeks.
It was the reports from Tim’s teachers that made Bruce hesitate the most:
Timothy struggles with connecting to other classmates.
Timothy stayed indoors during recess, claiming a stomach ache. When asked if he wanted to play with the others, he shook his head and went back to reading.
Timothy is a pleasure to have in class, but the school mandates that parents must sign off on permission slips, rather than nannies.
Timothy’s roommate frequently complains about Timothy’s nightmares. The Drake family doctor has prescribed sleeping aids to help the problem.
Timothy came back from his weekend at home with a black eye and multiple new surface injuries. He insists he fell while skateboarding.
It didn’t take a detective to know that Tim was being bullied. He was a skinny kid with gelled-up hair and an affinity for math. As Tim himself once put it, he was “every coming-of-age movie’s nerd who gets shoved into a locker.” That didn’t make it any better.
Bruce hadn’t realized that he was at the Drakes’ house until his knuckles stalled an inch from the door. The limo that hauled the Drakes around wasn’t in the driveway. This wasn’t a wellness check, it was a nice walk that ended in seeing his newest sidekick. That was an excuse he could live with.
He rapped twice: two loud, short knocks that seemed to echo. Not a minute later, he could hear locks clicking on the other side of the door, and there was Tim--all 5’2” of him.
It wasn’t Tim’s short stature or gelled hair that made Bruce’s heart sink, though. It was the bruises that caressed his jaw and temple that almost ended in a black eye. His nose was bruised, but Bruce didn’t think it was broken. Probably. The bruises were fresh, less than 24 hours old. Tim had been beaten up recently.
“Who did this to you?” He tried to ask gently, but it came out too harsh and too breathy all at once. Bruce reached out for Tim’s shoulder, but the young teenager avoided him with ease, like it was a practiced movement.
“‘S not important,” Tim mumbled, his tone achingly adolescent.
“I know you’re getting bullied, Tim. I know it’s been going on for a long time. I need you to tell me who it is so they can see consequences.” Bruce had never done this before. He’d saved kids from hostage situations and from the creepy guy on the playground. But he’d never had to save kids from other kids.
Instead of breaking down in tears like Bruce expected, Tim barked a short laugh.
“I’m not getting bullied, B. I’m Robin, do you seriously think Tyrone Wright bothers me anymore? Not to mention, I never have to see him again. He’s going to Gotham Academy next year.”
“Then who-” Bruce’s sentence fell apart as his mouth caught up with his mind. Fresh bruises. Not another kid. The Drakes left this morning.
Oh.
“Tim,” he began slowly, “did your father do this to you?”
Tim’s demeanor dropped immediately, and he wouldn’t look Bruce in the eye. Seconds passed without a response, and for a second Bruce could painfully feel how, in this moment, they were Batman and a scared child.
“He didn’t mean to,” Tim finally let out, his voice as quiet as a dying breath.
Worry churned in Bruce’s stomach. Those words were never a good sign.
“I need you to explain everything that happened last night, okay?” Bruce said, as gently as he could while his heart was breaking. “Do you want to talk here, or at the Manor?”
Instead of answering, Tim slipped back into the house, leaving the door open for Bruce to follow. Bruce crossed the threshold, and took in the Drake mansion. It was full of that post-modern, minimalist decor that Bruce despised. It looked sterile, like a museum or a morgue. It certainly didn’t look like a place that housed a 13 year old boy.
Tim led him past the foyer and the formal sitting room and into the kitchen, where he selected a stool at the island. The counters were marble and impeccably clean. The cabinets were glass and white-painted wood. It looked like something out of a magazine. Pictures lined the walls, but they were all landscapes of foreign lands. Bruce couldn’t spot a single family photo.
“Where are your parents? I thought they were supposed to be in Gotham for at least another week,” Bruce began, but he truly didn’t care that the Drakes were gone. Good riddance.
“They left this morning for Haiti. Some big dig started early and they couldn’t miss it,” Tim whispered, his tone much wetter than it had been a few minutes before. “We were supposed to have a big going-away dinner, but I was playing my music too loud and didn’t hear my dad when he called. He came in and saw me just sitting on my bed and told me to stand up. S-so I did and he slapped m-” Tim’s sentences were barely-suppressed sobs now.
“He hit you so hard you bruised?” Bruce prompted, frowning. “Has he done this before?”
“N-no. To both. I wasn’t ready and I fell and hit my head on my desk. It’s not like that’s what he wanted to happen.” Tim had managed to choke down the tears, and was now staring solemnly at Bruce. It was as if he’d learned to quiet his sorrow as quickly as possible.
“Tim…” Bruce murmured, but he could barely get the words out over the pain of his heart splintering. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s not your fault. Your dad shouldn’t have hit you. No adult should hit a child, ever.” 
Tim stared at the countertop, but remained silent. Bruce reached out to pat him on the back, but when his hand brushed Tim’s shoulder, Tim flinched. Bruce didn’t try to touch him again after that.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” he finally said, putting on the voice he used as Batman. “We’re going to go to the manor, take a look at your injuries, and watch some movies. Alfred will buy us those ice cream cookie sandwiches if we ask nicely. That sound good?”
Tim nodded mutely and pushed himself off the stool.
“Okay, what do you need to pack to stay at the Manor? Clothes, obviously--maybe a speaker?”
“He broke mine. Before he hit me.” Tim mumbled.
Bruce froze, just for a second. “Well, we’ll have to fix that. How about we get you a new WayneTech phone? You can download music onto it, and I’ll get you some earbuds too.” Bruce followed Tim as the boy wove his way through the house, all the way up to his room. It was starkly bare, with a few posters and knick knacks but not much else. Tim shoved clothes into a duffel bag, did a quick survey, then looked at Bruce.
“Ready.”
That’s it? It was shocking how easily Tim could pick himself out of this life, like he was a piece of lint on a fancy suit.
Still, Bruce smiled. “Then let’s go. I’m thinking Star Wars for the movies, how about you?”
Tim quipped something about how Star Trek was superior in every way, but all Bruce could think about were his other sons. It hadn’t even been six months since he’d lost Jason, but he was already letting another child in. He wasn’t going to let another little boy slip through the cracks.
And when the Drakes came home from Haiti, he would show them no mercy.
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pufflyhallows · 4 years ago
Text
Picks & Pens (II)
Hello! I’m back with another chapter for this one. This AU is so cool for me, I hope you guys like it.
Chapter Two: The Day I Died
Warnings: language
Word count: 2,4k
a/n: I still don’t know shit about press lol
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Mrs. Lennox hadn’t e-mailed you in three days. Didn’t seem much time for the outside eye, but you knew it was strange. You hoped there was nothing wrong with the interview, as you had already started working on your questions and also had plans for the extra cash coming in soon. There was a local artist whose paintings had a quite fun twist on pop culture and you liked to support him. Your living room could use some more color too.
Just when you finally had all your focus directed at the writing of your questions, Jessie popped up behind your laptop with a questioning look.
“What?” you asked impatiently, slightly irritated that you had been interrupted.
“You’re too quiet today.”
“I’m working?”
“Must be something really important to make you miss Kevin’s afternoon rage. What is it?”
“Oh, I missed it? What was it this time? The vending machine ran out of peanuts?”
“Nope. The construction site is ‘making too much noise’.”
“He means the construction site ten floors below us?”
“Yeah. You can’t even hear it!” Jessie shook her head. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What are you working on?”
“An interview,” you closed your laptop.
“Ooh… is it top secret?” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Is it an A-List celebrity? Oh my God, it’s Tom Hardy, isn’t it?”
“What? No,” you chuckled. “I’ll tell you when I get the confirmation. It’s a bit uncertain for now.”
“But can you give me a hint? Like… male or female? Actor or singer? Politician, maybe? A TV host?! Give me something, Y/N!”
“Male,” you said. “And that’s all I’m giving you.”
“Male… Hm…” she squeezed her eyes. “Are you sure it’s not Tom Hardy? You know I would definitely pretend to be your assistant and sneak in that interview, right?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that. But no, Jessie, it is not Tom Hardy.”
“What a bummer. Well, good luck on the confirmation. I need to go back to that puppy coat article.”
“Puppy coat?”
“Yeah, you know… Coats for puppies. It’s quite trendy now in the winter. People still need to take their dogs out for walkies, after all.”
“Please tell me you’re putting pictures on that article.”
“You bet I am,” she smiled. “Comes out tomorrow, probably. Check the website at noon.”
“I definitely will.”
When Jessie walked away, you heard the infamous ding from your computer, announcing a new e-mail. You quickly opened the device again and clicked on the e-mail icon. It was from Brenda.
Mrs. Lennox wants to grab coffee downstairs with you at 4 p.m.
Perfect. Probably an update on the scheduling.
You replied confirming your attendance to the casual meeting and looked at your watch. It was still 3:35 p.m.
Your train of thought for the interview had been lost already, thanks to Jessie and her curiosity, so you didn’t get back to it right away. Instead, you decided to stretch your legs and walk over to Ben’s desk. He managed to make those twenty five minutes pass quite fast, getting a few laughs out of you in the process. When it was time, you got into the elevator and descended a couple of floors to the coffee shop.
You knew from experience that Sophia Lennox always arrived five minutes after the time she set. She hated waiting for people, but she did not want to make people wait for her for too long. Words you heard from Sophia herself. For that reason, you took the liberty to sit at the most discrete table and wait for her inside. As expected, she appeared after five short minutes and sat in front of you.
“Have you ordered anything yet?” she asked, signaling to the waitress that usually served her table.
You shook your head just as the waitress approached the table.
“Hello, dear. One latte for me and…” Mrs. Lennox looked at you.
“A mocha for me,” you smiled at Sam, the waitress.
“Right away,” she smiled back, walking away.
“I could start this conversation with ‘you’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here’, but I know you’re smart enough not to wonder. You know this is about the interview,” Mrs. Lennox started. “And let me get this out of the way and say that it’s very much confirmed. You will be interviewing him. The only issue we’re having is his schedule. He’s a very busy man, apparently. Much busier than I thought.”
You kept on listening, not finding that information surprising.
“It was his birthday a couple of weeks ago and he had taken a break from his usual schedule to celebrate. Now that he’s back, there are some things he needs to take care of before even thinking about interviews. At least, that’s what his manager told me.”
“So no prediction?”
“Actually, yes. There is a prediction, but I don’t think you’re going to like it. He will probably be available between the 15th and the 21st of December. Though it’s no guarantee.”
“Oh! That’s like three weeks from now,” you reflected for a few seconds. “And then it will be quite a hurry to write the article.”
“I know… I felt really tempted to pull the ex-girlfriend card, but you’ve asked me not to and I didn’t.”
“What, you think they would make time for it if they knew?”
“I mean, probably. It’s good press for him too,” you looked down after hearing her words. Of course it’s about press. “But all they know is that it’s for SL Magazine.”
Before you could reply, Sam came back with your orders, placing them on the table.
“Thank you.”
As she walked away, you grabbed your cup of mocha and took a small sip.
“So…” Mrs. Lennox cleared her throat. “Can you do it?”
You knew that was a rhetorical question. There was no way you could backpedal now.
“Yes. But I’d really appreciate it if you managed to get me the 15th or 16th. The sooner, the better.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” your boss sighed, raising her cup at you before taking a sip. “I will try to get the-”
The conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Lennox’s cellphone ringing inside her purse. She reached for it and looked slightly surprised with the name on the screen. “It’s her.”
“Who?” you frowned.
“The manager,” she slid her finger across the screen and put the phone on her ear. “Hello?”
You grabbed your cup with both hands and took a long sip as you watched the conversation.
“I’m great! How about you? Oh, that’s lovely. I believe it was Tuesday, yes. Not at all! I completely understand. Well… um…” Mrs. Lennox looked at you hesitantly before carrying on. “Yes, that’s her.”
The nervousness and apprehension started kicking in. You found yourself almost squeezing the cup between your hands, waiting for your boss to end that call and tell you what was going on.
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she let out a business laugh. “Oh, that will get a little rushed, don’t you think? No, no. I appreciate it. Thank you very much, Miss Dawson. Of course. Bye bye.”
Mrs. Lennox placed her phone on the table and took a deep breath. She looked at you and bit her lower lip thoughtfully.
“What happened?” you asked. “It wasn’t canceled, was it?”
“No! Don’t even say something like that,” she shook her head and waved her hand at you. “Well, his manager is quite good. She looked into SL and found out you work for us, so she wanted to know if, by any chance, you would be the one interviewing him. I wasn’t going to lie, of course, and said yes.”
“Oh...”
“Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it is actually a good thing, Y/N. She said she’ll squeeze us in for next week!”
“Next week?!”
“Isn’t it great? I knew they would make time for you.”
Of course, I’m ‘good press’.
“You have started on the material, right?” Mrs. Lennox asked.
“I have, actually. But I’m still doing research.”
“Okay. You’ll have to hurry a little bit. Miss Dawson said next Wednesday is the perfect day, which means you only have about four days to finish it. And keep in mind that I want to see it before you go, so we should have a little spare time in case you need to make edits,” she stopped to take another sip and you accepted that your weekend was going to be wasted on Sirius Black research. “Do you know her, by the way? The manager.”
“No. He had a different one back then,” you sounded more bitter than you intended, and Mrs. Lennox eyed you for a couple of seconds.
“I won’t ask.”
“Thanks.”
“Well… let’s get to work!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With a glass of red wine on your nightstand and random music videos from YouTube playing on the TV, you typed question after question on your laptop, sitting on your queen sized bed on a Saturday night. It was going to be a big article. Two full pages with three columns of text each, according to Mrs. Lennox. She wanted the narrated type, with you describing even his motioning hands. It was going to be a handful, but you were prepared. You had done it before. This wouldn’t be any different from the Saoirse Ronan one.
As you went through his discography, you listened to all the songs you hadn’t listened before, which meant most of them. After the breakup, you had stopped listening to his music altogether. You only knew the ones that became hits and played in the radio, gas stations, stores, every damn where. It was quite annoying, actually.
You got to the last song of his latest album, released eight months ago: Love Falls. There was no music video, so you paused the TV and clicked on the song on your laptop’s Spotify to listen to it through your headphones.
The lyrics immediately caught your attention.
Have you cried yourself to sleep?
Have you felt this incomplete?
Have you ever cut yourself so deep to see if you still bleed?
Oh, another angsty song. Great.
Do you ever feel wanted?
Do you ever feel needed?
Do you ever feel happy?
Or are you just like me?
What the fuck is he talking about? He’s the artist of the decade! Of course he’s wanted. If there was something that pissed you off about the music industry was when artists tried to be ‘relatable’ in their songs, even if it meant portraying an image that wasn’t necessarily true.
I’m hanging by a thread, a rope, the noose around my neck
I choke, ‘cause every time I’m falling love falls out of me
Right. What about all the girls he’d been with? Every month there were pictures of him partying with someone different and- Well, actually, that was it. Partying. In your research you realized he hadn’t been in a serious relationship since… you.
I'm hardened like a rock, a stone, the brick inside my chest
Alone, 'cause every time I'm falling love falls out of me
Maybe… maybe he wasn’t trying to be relatable. Maybe he wasn’t projecting a fake image. Maybe he did feel like that.
I'll never forget the day I died
Love memories frozen and denied
Flower of my heart withered and dried
You took a very long sip of your wine and wiped your lips with your sweater’s sleeve.
Love falls out of me
And that was it. The song ended. You had gone through his entire discography, listened to every song and watched every music video. Weirdly, apart from the ones that were released when you were still together, that was the first song that made you feel something. The first one you actually enjoyed. It was a really good song, you had to admit. It was raw and vulnerable, something you hadn’t seen in one of his songs since the first two albums.
You played it again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Interesting.”
Mrs. Lennox was reading your material for the interview, with a pen between two fingers, ready to cross out or add a sentence.
You were sitting on the comfy, fluffy chair in front of her table, nervously bouncing your leg as you squeezed your hands together. You hoped she liked what you had prepared because you really wanted to use it.
“Oh, I didn’t know this.” She kept reading, clearly interested. The fact that she hadn’t done any edits yet gave you hope.
A few more minutes went by, no edits, and suddenly she looked up at you. Slowly, she put the sheets of paper down and took off her red cat-eye glasses.
“I’m impressed, Y/N. You really went above and beyond on this. I’m almost certain this is the very first time I didn’t have to edit the material for an interview before approving it.”
“Does that mean…?”
“It’s approved. You can use it. As a matter of fact, you have to use it. It’s perfect!” Mrs. Lennox chuckled. “You go straight to the point and ask exactly what people want to know. Not to mention the small details you’ve picked up on! Well done. This article is going to be amazing.”
You sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Mrs. Lennox. I sure hope so.”
She smiled at you. “And I’m curious to find out the answers.”
“Honestly? Me too.”
“I know,” she nodded, still smiling. “Good thing we won’t have to wait for too long. Tomorrow is the day!”
Mrs. Lennox stood up and handed you back the papers. “You know the deal or should I recap?”
“Please, recap.”
“It’s an intimate interview, as you know. This means that the only people in the room are going to be you and him. All he has tomorrow, besides this interview, is a photoshoot for a radio station or something. It’s supposed to take place in the morning, but it’s likely that it will be extended into the afternoon. And that’s why his manager scheduled our interview for 6 p.m. A little later than our usual, I know, but she’s squeezing us in. It’s not his usual either.”
“Place?”
“His personal studio. He has something to do there after the interview, apparently. Or even during the interview, doesn’t really matter. It’ll still be just the two of you,” she paused. “You need the address?”
“No, I got it.”
“Great! I think that’s about everything.”
“Okay,” you nodded slowly, glancing at the material in your hands. “I should get back to work, then.”
“Actually, Y/N, why don’t you go home? I have nothing for you here.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You don’t have to come tomorrow either, use the day to prepare for the interview. Study the material and rock on! Oh, and don’t forget to call me before you get to the studio. I want to give you my pep talk,” she smiled.
“Sure,” you smiled back, standing up. “See you in two days, then.”
“See you, Y/N. Good luck.”
********
Love Falls by HELLYEAH
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zwritestuff · 4 years ago
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Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Two) - Kyara
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A/N: Kiara is twenty-two today, and what a better way to celebrate than with a new chapter? I’m very much in love with this fic, and a third chapter should be on the way. Hope you enjoy this one though! It didn’t turn out according to my plan, but oh well. Shit happens.
Read on ao3 too!
***
If Kiara is completely honest, she has no idea why she started “hiding” at Kyne’s office in the first place.
Well, maybe she does have some sort of idea; she was mad at Wilbur, that one bitch of a CEO her father was — is, sadly — great friends with, for having completely dismissed her when she tried to express her opinions during a meeting, and spoke down to her as if she was a little kid and not an adult.
She had left the meeting seeing red, and the fact Lena was all over her, reminding her of all the things she had to do and blurting out message after message didn’t help. Kiara understood that it was just her job, but god damn it, Lena couldn’t understand simple hints for the sake of her life. So, before she undeservingly snapped at her secretary, she came up with a half-assed excuse to leave her office; she just needed to wander around to calm herself down.
Her first thought was to come to Rita, because she always knew what to say and how to calm her down, and Rita’s secretary, Tynomi, was probably the bluntest, funniest woman in the entire company. They always managed to cheer her up. Unfortunately, Rita had yet another meeting — Kiara swore she was the only CEO besides her that actually did her job.
She was wandering around the offices of the accountants when she saw Kyne’s door; Kyne had something that pulled Kiara like a magnet, though she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. Maybe it was the fact she made her laugh within a minute of meeting each other, or that every time she came to pick up or drop off some reports, she always managed to, at least, get a giggle out of her. And god knew she needed a laugh now. 
So she knocked on an impulse she would later be grateful for. 
Kyne was totally entitled to not want to listen to her problems or to kick her out (which she wouldn’t do, because everyone was afraid of her, apparently), but she let her stay, and offered her as much of her attention as she could, considering she still had work to do. And she even gave her advice — well, of sorts. 
“I mean, you’re the boss of the boss of my boss; if anything, you could just tell her to chill or you’ll fire her. That should calm her,” she had said, placing her chin in her palm, her voice coming out as monotonous, though Kiara distinguished a playful gleam in her eyes. A giggle came out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“I would, but I’m not that mean — and she’d tell my dad, anyway.” She shrugged, slightly rolling her eyes. She heard Kyne chuckle, and her heart skipped a beat. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I have to go, I have a meeting to attend, but thank you for letting me hide here.” She winked at her out of yet another impulse, but Kyne didn’t seem to mind, since she smiled at her in a way that knocked the air out of her lungs.
Okay, that was weird, Kiara thought.
“You’re welcome to hide here any time, miss Schatzi,” Kyne said, with that pretty smile still on her face. Kiara turned to see her, grabbing the handle of the door for dear life.
“You know what? Just call me Kiara.” She smiled bashfully and left, walking back to her office as fast as her heels allowed her.
She had shut the door in front of Lena’s face when she wouldn’t stop asking where she went, and had silently resolved that she wouldn’t go back to Kyne’s office unless it was for the sake of her job. 
Kiara was also a pathological liar.
She came back one, two, three, who knows how many times, again. She’s not sure, but she knows it was enough for it to become a habit. Sometimes she’d also bring some sort of sweet so Kyne wouldn’t think of her as such a burden. Kiara knew she would get annoyed of her visits at some point, but that had yet to happen, and she was glad for it.
But their almost daily meetings hadn’t escaped the eye of the other employees, much to Kiara’s annoyance.
After setting the record straight with Lena and asking her to be a little less suffocating, they had managed to struck up a friendly relationship, built on the fact that Kiara asked her to be as blunt as possible with her, and in exchange she was honest with her when she went to visit Kyne in the middle of work hours. So it didn’t surprise Kiara when Lena had told her without hesitation that a good chunk of the employees thought she was sleeping with Kyne.
While Lena being blunt with her wasn’t that out of the common — her employees thinking she was sleeping with Kyne? That sure was a hell of a shock.
“You commit a mistake once and people vow to not forget it ever again,” she had grumbled once Lena was done telling her all about the gossip surrounding her and Kyne.
Lena cocked one of her perfectly painted eyebrows, intently staring at her. “Come again?”
Kiara quickly dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Nothing.”
She tried to not pay attention to what the people said about her — in fact, she was great at it — because she shouldn’t pay any mind to cheap office gossip. So Kiara went on with her life, without letting the rumors stop her from visiting Kyne.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before the rumors reached her father.
Kiara’s father is a lovely man, he accepts her for who she is and always seeks out for her wellbeing. Though he makes misplaced comments more often than not, he never does it with ill-intent — oh, and there’s also the fact that he tried to turn Kiara into the son he never had, and when she came out he thought it was his fault that she was a lesbian. She finds it funny now, though she can’t say it was funny at that moment.
And because he cares about her, he’s always asking if she has had any dates recently, or if she’s going out with anyone at the company. It’s safe to say that when one of his friends came to him with the gossip about his own daughter, he got excited rather than offended.
“Am I going to meet your girlfriend at the ball next weekend?” He asks over dinner, and Kiara nearly chokes with her lasagna.
Now that’s why he wanted to have dinner out with her; he usually stays late at work, and Kiara ends up eating dinner with her mom and their three dogs.
Kiara swallows her lasagna and coughs a little before speaking. “Girlfriend? What do you mean?” She squints, tilting her head a little. She knows he’s talking about Kyne, but she prefers to play dumb.
Her father gives her a complicit smile, the kind he’d give her when she was little and they had gotten mud on their clothes after Kiara’s mom told them to not get dirty. She hasn’t seen that smile in years.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, pumpkin. I’m glad you’re seeing someone! You’re young, you should enjoy your life.” He sounds so supportive and happy, that Kiara can’t bring herself to tell him it’s all just a huge misunderstanding.
So Kiara decides to bite the bullet and tell her dad she’s dating one of the accountants of the company, and the proud smile on his face makes it more difficult to lie to him. But at the same time, it isn’t hard to list off all the things she likes about Kyne, because she does like her — as a friend, clearly, but her dad doesn’t have to know that.
He promises her he’ll get Kyne on the guest list of the charity ball, so she can properly introduce her to him and her mother, as well as their friends. Though Kiara nods and thanks him with a huge smile that she hopes doesn’t look forced, her hands are sweating and she knows right away that the first thing she’ll have to do tomorrow morning is talk with Kyne.
***
It’s Wednesday morning, and Kiara buys a cup of coffee and a bagel on her way to work, because she knows what she’s about to ask Kyne will probably make her hate her guts. She wouldn’t blame her.
Surprisingly, it goes far better than she expected. Kyne says yes, in her very Kyne-like way. And Kiara can’t believe it. What surprises her more is the fact Kyne seemingly had no idea about these rumors; if Kiara is lucky, she has no idea about what people said about her even before she started working full-time at the company.
She promises to take her shopping for a dress and leaves her office with her heart plummeting in her ears, the sight of Kyne’s flustered expression ingrained in her brain.
Kiara goes back to her office, walking past Lena and asking her to pretty please get Kyne’s phone number from the company’s records. Kiara notices she’s curious, but Lena doesn’t ask why she wants it or how she doesn’t have it, considering she spends almost every day with her; she just cocks a brow her way and replies with a polite yes ma’am.
She tries to get her job done, to answer the e-mails still pending in her inbox and call back all the people she has to call back, but the only thing on her mind is Kyne. She’s not sure if it’s the guilt of having dragged her, or the impatience for Friday to arrive bubbling up in her stomach, but as soon as it’s time for lunch she sprints off to Rita’s office.
Rita always knows what to say, and right now, Kiara needs someone to tell her this isn’t an incredibly bad idea, even though that would be a lie.
Before she notices she’s knocking on her door and finds Rita along with Tynomi, who greet her with a wide smile.
“Hey Kiki, we were just heading out, wanna go have lunch with us?” Rita asks with a smile, but Kiara shakes her head no.
“I’m fine, thanks. But I could use your help with something,” she says, fidgeting with her fingers. Rita motions at her to take a seat, as she sits back on her chair and Tynomi perches herself against the desk.
Kiara tries to sum up the mess she had gotten herself into, and she can’t blame them when they try to hold back laughs by biting their lower lips and squeezing each other’s wrist.
“So now I need someone to tell me this isn’t a catastrophically bad idea, and that we won’t get caught lying at the ball,” Kiara dramatizes, and Rita snorts, exchanging a brief look with Tynomi before speaking.
“Poussin, you leave me speechless. You could’ve just told your dad it was a misunderstanding,” Rita says with a shrug and Kiara groans, folding her arms.
“Kyne said exactly the same thing — it’s not that easy!” She protests childishly, and the older women laugh at her expense. Kiara wants to be pissed, but she’d also laugh at herself, honestly.
“I mean, it’s a bad idea depending of the way you look at it,” Tynomi says, “You can either be the laughing stock if people find out you’re faking a relationship with this woman, or, you can win an actual girlfriend. Depends how you play your cards,” she explains, as if it’s that easy. Rita hums in agreement, and Kiara rolls her eyes.
“I don’t like Kyne like that.” It’s the first thing she says, sounding more defensive that she intended to. “I just don’t know how to go about this. I enjoy Kyne’s friendship a lot, and I don’t wanna lose it if we fuck this up,” she admits bashfully, and their expressions soften up.
“Then I think you should be talking things out with her, not us,” Rita says, with that motherly tone she always uses when she knows she’s right, and Kiara knows there’s no use fighting her logic.
“What’s the worst thing that can happen? She’ll break up with you?” Tynomi jokes, earning a laugh from them.
“If I run, I think I can get to her before lunch finishes…” She mumbles absent-mindedly, standing up and heading to the door. “Thank you, girls. See you later!” Kiara gives them a grateful smile and a wave before she leaves.
“Be careful running with those heels!” Rita exclaims as she’s closing the door.
Kiara walks as fast as she can through the hallways, trying not to trip with her own feet. She anxiously looks around, searching for Kyne’s purple jacket — God bless Kyne for always wearing jackets with unconventional colors to work.
She hears a ping and pulls out her phone, smiling when she sees a message from Lena with a contact attached. Her message reads that she’s sorry for the delay, but she got distracted by someone — Kiara has an eerie feeling that said someone is a woman from the architect team, but she just replies with a thank you.
She turns in a corner, ending up in the hallway of Kyne’s office. Kiara smiles when she sees Kyne’s purple jacket at the end of the hallway, walking away with her friends.
“Kyne!” She exclaims, ignoring the ache in her feet as she trotters towards her. Kyne turns around, looking at Kiara with a flustered expression. Her friends turn around too, but their faces read nothing but pure mischief. “Wait up, I was looking for you.”
“Me? Why?” She asks once Kiara is near enough. Her brows are knitted in a frown, stealing glances at her friends, who have their attention focused on Kiara.
Kiara shakes off the nerves, sucks in a breath and smiles at Kyne, hoping that she goes with the flow. “Well, we’re going to have lunch together, aren’t we?” She bites her lower lip, hiding her sweaty palms behind her back.
Kyne squints. “We’re— oh!” She blinks repeatedly as she catches what’s going on. “Oh, yeah, we are. Sorry guys, I forgot. Go on without me.” She gives them a bashful look as she ushers them, and the one Kiara recognizes as Priyanka from the architect team snorts as she drags the other two women with her.
Once they’re alone, they stare at each other awkwardly, until Kyne speaks again.
“Uh, mind telling me what this is all about?” She asks, fidgeting with the ring in her index finger. Kiara bites the inside of her lip, with her hands still behind her back.
“We’re going to have lunch?” She replied, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. Kyne cocks a sly brow, and Kiara groans. “Okay, fine, this is very last minute, but hear me out.” Kiara takes a few steps closer, face inches away from Kyne’s. She tries to not get distracted by the rosy undertone in Kyne’s cheeks. “I know we spend almost every day together, but when you think about it, we don’t know much about each other, and couples are supposed to know each other to every little detail. If someone finds out that this is a lie, it’ll probably be because of our lack of knowledge about each other – and lord knows I don’t want to be the laughing stock of the company.”
“Why would you be the laughing stock of the company?” Is the only thing that Kyne questions from her logic, tilting her head to the side as she furrows her brow. Perhaps it’s just Kiara’s mind, but she could swear she felt a tinge of defensiveness in her tone.
“Imagine how embarrassing it’d be if the daughter of the owner was caught faking a relationship? A lot of people already think I’m a hoe that sleeps around; I’m sure this would be deemed pathetic instead of debunking my reputation,” she explains with an eye roll. Kyne’s expression softens up, and she gives her shoulder a squeeze.
“I know this great place some streets away, if you don’t mind walking in heels,” Kyne offers, and Kiara smiles widely.
They get to really know each other beyond what co-workers do they hate and how much they dread Sandy the secretary of the front desk over pumpkin pie and sorrentinos; Kiara learns that Kyne knows how to play the flute traversière since she was a teen, knows how to sew and is fluent in Tagalog.
She offers Kiara to teach her some insults, and between laughs she replies that she’ll teach her French insults in exchange. In the back of her mind, Kiara thinks this might just work.
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sj-thefan · 5 years ago
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Paint (Cam Harrison)
Cam Harrison (The Little Mermaid 2018) x reader
I wrote this a while ago, I don’t know why I didn’t post it here. I hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
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The sounds of coughs alerted Y/n to the emergency. Her own chest tightened as the coughing continued, non-stop. She had grown accustomed to knowing that Elle needed medicine when she couldn't stop coughing. She quickly ran outside to find Elle lying on the ground, two of her friends kneeling beside her.
"Go get Cam," she told the girls, and one quickly ran into the house. "Okay, it's okay." Y/n knelt on the ground beside Elle, making sure she was lying on her back. "Just look at me." She started deep breathing, encouraging Elle to follow her movements. It wouldn't make everything better, but Elle had yet to be diagnosed, so even the medicine Cam had for her didn't have a 100% chance of working every time. It had so far, but nothing was certain until they could figure out exactly what was wrong with their niece.
"Elle?"
Y/n looked up to see Cam rush outside. He picked up the little girl and carried her inside. Y/n looked to the little girls. "It's okay, girls. She'll be okay."
"We didn't mean to do it."
"I know girls. Don't worry; it's not your fault. She'll be okay."
Y/n ran inside.
Cam and Elle were in his office. They were wrapped up in a hug but glanced up when Y/n came in. "Everything okay?"
"Just needed some medicine is all," Elle replied with a smile.
Cam shook his head as he stood. "What we need," he grinned at his niece, "is for someone to take it easy."
Y/n stepped forward, crouching down, so she was level with Elle. She brushed some hair away from her face. "Do you want to come take it easy with me? I could use some help."
The little girl smiled. She liked spending time with her aunt. Y/n wasn't as strict as her uncle and would often find things for them to do instead of just telling her what she couldn't do. Her uncle wasn't a bad guy, he was just a lot busier. They had a big house, which meant big bills, so he had to work a lot too. Y/n was a painter. She loved painting but the money wasn't great. She spent the days at home, taking care of Elle and worked at the store in town on the weekends, finding little time in between to work on her paintings. Elle needed to be watched. Someone had to be around so that if something went wrong, they could help. If Cam happened to work over the weekend, Y/n would often take Elle with her to the shop. Elle liked being in the store; she could talk to everyone who visited, and every now and then, if she promised to walk, Y/n would let her go to the sweet shop down the street.
Luckily, neither of the adults were required to work at night. Nighttime became the designated family time. Dinner was mandatory, and afterwards, they would rest in the living area. Some nights they would play a game, others, Cam would read to the girls, putting on silly voices and making them laugh.
Today had been a rare day where Cam didn't need to go into the office. He had some work to do, but it could be done from home. He had response letters to write to doctors that had taken a look at Elle and her condition, and more letters to write to people who he needed to contact for a story. He promised it wouldn't take long, but it was still morning and he'd barely begun; he would need at least a few more hours of quiet, so the girls would have to do something without him.
She helped the young girl stand up when she nodded, saying a silent goodbye to Cam as they left the room.
They started climbing the stairs when Elle asked a question. "Am I a bother?"
Y/n nearly tripped. "What makes you say that?"
"Nothing in particular," Elle sighed. "It's just, I see you and Uncle Cam, and you both always have important things to do. But then you also have to take care of me, too, and I just feel like it would be easier if I weren't here."
Y/n understood what was bothering the girl. When she had first met Elle, Y/n was still just Cam's girlfriend. Things were a lot different. Elle still had her parents, Y/n didn't have a job, and Cam was still a small-time reporter. Their lives began changing rapidly.
Cam proposed, and the couple got married. After the couple returned from their short honeymoon, Cam's brother and his wife were in an accident, leaving Elle without her parents. The couple took her in without hesitation, vowing to protect her and keep her safe. In his will, Cam's brother left them his house, which was much bigger and more expensive than the one-bedroom house they had had. They moved into the house and realized how much higher the bills were. So, Y/n decided to get a job at the store.
After a particularly bad breathing attack at school, and a few doctor consultations, Y/n and Cam realized they needed to be with Elle almost always. The school wasn't equipped to handle Elle's situation, so Y/n took to teaching the girl at home, which meant she would have to take fewer shifts at work, especially when Cam was promoted to a senior reporter.
Things had certainly changed, but Y/n didn't want her niece to feel like she was a bother or nuisance. She stopped them once they reached the top of the stairs. "Elle, you are not a bother. Would things be easier if you weren't here? That depends on how you look at it. Sure, we wouldn't have as much to do, but that's not very fun. And if you weren't here, I think Uncle Cam and I would feel pretty sad." Elle frowned. "We love you. We want to take care of you because we couldn't handle not having you around." Y/n smiled, giving the girl a hug. "Now come on. We don't want the paints to dry out."
Y/n had always enjoyed painting. She enjoyed the focus and dedication she would put into a single piece and liked looking at all different kinds of artwork. When Elle was around, they didn't work on detailed pieces, though. They would create abstract random creations by throwing paint. Every single result was different. It was Elle's favourite way to paint. She liked the days when they would go into the attic and throw the paints around. She felt carefree on those days, creating chaotic masterpieces. It didn't strain her lungs or heart, and the attic windows were always open, so there was constantly fresh air.
Elle rushed to the paints as soon as they entered the attic. Y/n followed, taking time to close the makeshift curtain that protected the rest of the room from flying paint.
"What size should we do today?" Y/n asked the young girl.
Y/n and Cam made the canvases at home. Cam would nail the frame together, then Y/n would pull the canvas tightly over it. They had all different sizes, but the big ones were best for paint throwing. Sure enough, Elle made her way to the biggest canvas.
She had been waiting for a special day to use it, and something about today felt right. "This one," she said while a bright smile.
Y/n picked it up. She wasn't sure exactly how big it was, but it was at least five feet wide and nearly as tall, so it was definitely bigger than Elle. She lifted it up, hanging it against the wall. The room was slowly becoming a piece of art with all the paint splatters on the walls and floor.
The girls put on their paint smocks, which was just an oversized jacket for Elle and an old apron for Y/n. "Ready?" Y/n asked as Elle loaded up a big brush with paint, ready to sling it at the canvas.
Elle nodded, instantly flicking the paint across the room.
Y/n quickly joined in. Paints of all different colours flew through the air, splashing onto the canvas, wall, and floor. It was messy in a beautiful, chaotic sort of way.
With the girls rapidly flinging paint, the canvas was quickly turned into a beautiful rainbow of colour.
"It's missing something," Elle said, tilting her head as she stared at the painting.
Y/n smiled, picking up a smaller brush and dipping it into some red paint. "I think I know exactly what it needs."
Elle turned her head to look at her aunt and Y/n quickly swiped the brush across her face, leaving a red line from cheek to cheek.
Her eyes went wide as her mouth dropped in a silent laugh at her Aunt's shocking actions.
Y/n stuck her tongue out. "Perfect."
Elle quickly rushed to the paints gathering some to splash on her aunt.
"No!" Y/n laughed, running from the girl.
They continued chasing each other around the room, Y/n being careful to watch and make sure Elle didn't push herself. They covered themselves in the paint until a cough caused them both to freeze.
It wasn't Elle who coughed. The girls turned to the curtain, seeing Cam standing there with an amused grin.
"Having fun?" he asked.
"Yep!" Elle smiled, hiding her hands behind her back.
Y/n smiled, moving closer to Cam. "We're just painting, love."
"I can see that." Cam laughed, closing his eyes as he shook his head.
Sensing an opportunity, Y/n jumped forward, swiping his cheek with her paintbrush.
Elle burst out laughing when Cam seemed stuck in a daze at his wife's actions. Y/n quickly ran back to the paints, gabbing some more, before the paint war started again. Cam joined in, grabbing a brush and flinging paint at both of them. The attic was filled with the sounds of laughter and squeals.
Finally, they calmed down, growing tired. Cam gave Y/n a hug, rubbing his face against her neck to get off the paint. "Cam!" she playfully scolded, pushing him away. They turned to the little girl when she started giggling. She was covered in paint. Specks of yellow dotted her clothes, red stripes scattered everywhere and there was even some blue paint in her braided hair, which had strands falling out of it. Y/n had no doubt, she looked just as messy, if not worse.
"I think we all need a bath," Y/n said.
After settling Elle in the tub, Y/n found Cam in the kitchen. Due to his long sleeve shirt and pants, he had less paint on his skin than his clothes which would definitely need to be washed. He had wet cloth and was wiping the paint off his face and hands. Y/n joined him by the sink. He smiled at her, wiping away some of the paint on her face.
"Elle thinks she's a burden," Y/n told him.
He paused. "Why would she think that?"
"Because we're always busy." Y/n tilted her head. "I told her she wasn't, but I think it would help if we did something together. Something other than just a family meal. Do you think you could take some time off of work? Just a week or so? I think it would mean the world to her."
"I have to check, but I'll see what I can do." He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "It might take a while, but we'll go somewhere nice. Just the three of us."
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Don't you dare to forget about me (Sriracha, Part 14.)
Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.
Part Summary: Nine days and eight days flew by way sooner than you expected. It was time to say goodbye.
A/N: Yeah, I know, I know, you're screaming DON'T YOU (FORGET ABOUT ME) IS 1985. You know what? IT MAY BE, BUT I LIKE SO SHTTHFCK UP AND READ THE DAMN CHAPTER. Also, a bit of good old angst at the end of the chapter, because Hopper is a big attention whore and a man-baby.
Word count: 2.1 K
Tagging: @nemodoren​ @creedslove​
Master list: H E R E
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Most of the time, besides packing your stuff and cleaning up the things that remained in your room, you really were alongside Hopper - whether you decided to go on a short weekend hike or slept over at his place during the week, you never really let him go off your sight. When you weren't together, you called him to the office, asking him about total bullshit.
You both knew that the day would come, and it indeed hurt. But Hopper somehow managed to occupy your mind with other things, fucking included.
Once, when he was in a really great mood, you laid down on his bed, snuggling to his side, while he read you a book about detectives. He really loved them and read tons of them, no matter how hard was to believe it. When he didn't surprise you with a reading session, you cooked while dancing around to some songs from your beloved mixtape and one time, he brought a camera they had in the office. Why?
You almost screamed when he opened up the door, taking a picture of you while you were showering. He leaned his shoulder into the doorframe and waved with the Polaroid photo, while you looked at him with pure confusion.
"What do you think you're doing? Jesus, that's weird!" - You continued with your showering, letting Hopper watch you. It was fairly normal to have a conversation while one of you was taking a shower with the other one standing in the doorframe - but you never took a photo of him.
There was no time for talking when you were in the shower together, though. Hopper really made sure that every second's counting and he really proved you that he said what he meant - you were about to remember that summer until the day you die.
"I'm just makin' sure I won't forget any of this." - Jim answered with a naughty smile, looking at the photo, a furrow replacing the smile. - “Hey, would you mind turnin' at me a bit more, I only have half of your boobs here.” - He asked, making you laugh, splashing water at him. But you did turn around, showing him what he wanted to see. 
Jim made a whole album out of your naughty photos and he promised, swore on his Chief position, that he won't ever show any of them to anyone. You believed him - so that was why he took a load of them in the last few days you were staying in Hawkins - you liked most the one when you were taking a swim in the quarry, the sun was shining and you were half-turned at him with a soft smile, while he was smoking on the terrace. He had a photo of you in an unbuttoned shirt sitting on his lap, you biting your lip, he took a photo of your ass in denim shorts when you were leaning forward in the Bloomington grocery shop. 
To say it simply, this man had the camera ready all the time - and when he hadn't got the camera by his side, he was waving a polaroid photo. And every time he looked at the photo with that naughty smile of his, you knew that Aiden was right. No matter how hard you tried to deny everything, you were really falling in love with that tough guy. 
The last day was the most crucial - mom, Aiden and you moved all of the boxes into Aiden's car. It was his until you were leaving for college. That was how the deal sounded like, and your brother was struggling with worse things than his car being taken away. This was also one of the moments when you knew that he won't be rude to you. 
You were leaving two hours earlier, so you could visit Hopper at his cabin before you will ride out of Hawkins for a long time. When you hugged your mom, you felt strangely numb, counting down every minute in your head. It was soon to be over and that terrified you. Those fourteen days, each and every one of them... That was something out of the world. 
You were worried sick for Jim as well. Once you leave, he won't have a shoulder to cry on when his nightmares wake him, he won't have anyone to talk to, it will be just like before you had a chance to show him that the world might not be as bad as he thought the whole time. 
As soon as you leave, you knew that Hopper won't stay clean for too long - he may try for a week or two, he even promised to give you a call from time to time, but when he realizes that you'll be coming back on Halloween that was more than a month away, he will fall into the pit once more. 
With a sigh, you let Aiden hug you as well. 
“No matter how much I hate you, you'll be missed, you ugly witch.” - He whispered to you, lifting you up from the ground. Then he put you back on the ground. - “You're sure that leaving is what you want?”
“I can't let go of such a ridiculous scholarship.” - You hugged him one last time, closing your eyes this time. - “I'll miss you there too, dipshit. Keep out of any trouble, okay?” - You asked, still whispering, feeling as he nodded. You went to hug your dad with a small smile, getting a kiss on the forehead from him. When you put your seatbelts on and started the engine, your mom made you roll down your window. 
“I packed you a lunch. Call me as soon as you get there, okay? Drive safe!” - She waved at you as you left the driveway. You could see her crying, which made you almost cry as well. You straightened up, waiting a bit before you turned the car around and drove to Hoppers, lighting up a cigarette. You were stressed out of your mind and you really did want to cry. 
You were really leaving. And Hawkins wasn't as beautiful as it was on that evening before. You saw Steve playing football with some guys on a football ground outside - he immediately dropped the ball and ran after your car, waving at you, laughing. You honked back and at that moment, you were at the edge of crying. You knew that you're going to miss Steve as well. Jesus. Leaving your home was strange.
Hopper was standing in front of the trail even before you rolled there - you didn't even turn the engine when you saw him, you just got up and ran to him, kissing him as soon as he was in the range. You hadn't wait for anything, dragging him to bed immediately, pushing him down. Neither of you spoke out loud, you just let your bodies do the talking.
It was done thirty minutes after. You sat and started to dress as slow as you could. You knew that trail by your heart, every book he had there, every picture and painting, you remembered every one of them. You almost freaked out when Hopper threw a shirt on your head. 
“What's that for?” - You took it off, looking at it closely. It was his favorite one, a flannel one of blue color with a small pocket on the left side of the chest. He wouldn't ever let himself lose it or destroy it, he loved this shirt. He got it from Sara as a Christmas gift - and now, it was time to give to someone who meant almost everything to him at that time. - “Jim, stop. You'll be sorry later if you give me this shirt.” - You sighed and threw it back, kneeling down to tie your laces. 
“What should I be sorry for?” - Hopper asked, watching you only in his old sweats. He wasn't in a good mood, oh boy, he was everything but in a good mood. He didn't want you to go, it just wasn't fair. Seeing you again two months from that moment? What on Earth has he done to anyone to deserve this?
"Because you'll give me this, but I'll leave nonetheless. What if you figure out that I was only a summer thing? Huh?" - You stood up, fetching him the shirt, putting it directly on his chest. - "You better keep this."
"That's everythin' it was for you? A fuckin' summer thing?" - Hopper repeated after you, clearly not understanding a shit you tried to tell him. You opened up your mouth, looking him in the eyes. 
“Are you trying to play the blaming game with me?” - You asked slowly, walking through the door frame, not even touching him.
“I ain't the one who's leaving, you know?” - Jim asked slowly. Oh, you were about to argue. Great. Just fucking great. At least you wouldn't have to worry about visiting him on Halloween. There won't be anyone to visit. 
“Grow the fuck up. You knew we had the last two weeks, I gave them to you. And I'm happy I did.” - You turned at him in the kitchen, picking up all the things you knocked over when you dragged him to bed while kissing him hungrily. - “Don't make me regret all of this.”
“Why shouldn't you? It was only a summer thing, wasn't it?” - Jim mocked you, following you through the trail. You were both hurting at that moment and this was the way you both chose to lift off the pain off your chests. A heated argument was all you needed.
“I haven't even said that, for fuck's sake!” - You yelled at him for the first time with tears in your eyes. - “I'm sorry I'm ruining your personal bubble, but I will leave today whether you like or not, Jim Hopper. Grow up and be the man!” - You ran out of the trail, closing the door furiously, walking to your started car. Why it was so fucking hard to leave? Why was Hopper making it even harder? It took a moment before you lit up the cigarette with your shaky fingers, but in the end, you stood there, smoked and cried. 
“I knew you'll leave.” - He started off behind your back. You were so caught up in being angry that you hadn't even noticed Jim walking off the trail. He was still playing with the blue flannel shirt. He was mumbling, looking down on the shirt. - “But it didn't make things easier. Not even a bit.” - He finished and for a while, you were just drying off the tears and calming yourself down so your answer him. 
“It really didn't.” - You agreed and let him hug you for a while. When you felt his hands on your hips, you just closed your eyes and threw the lit up cigarette on the ground, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head into his neck. You were silent, there was only the radio in your car playing quietly.
“You're plannin' on coming back here, don't you?” - Jim asked after a while. You straightened up in his arm, catching his face in your palms, nodding while leaning him down for a kiss. 
“You're not planning on forgetting all of this, don't you?” - You asked back, still smoothing the crook of his neck slowly. With a smile, he shook his head and kissed your forehead while bringing you into an even tighter, longer hug. And when you felt that you really need to go, he covered you in the shirt. 
“Are you sure?” - You asked, putting it on properly. Jim didn't want to talk, to he only nodded. He watched as you sat down behind the steering wheel and doing your seatbelt before closing the door, rolling the window down, letting him lean into it. 
“See ya.” - You whispered before letting him kiss you one last time. Then he nodded, patted the top of your car and watched you leaving while waving at you the whole time. 
And with that, you really were leaving Hawkins for a long, long time.
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shinglescat · 5 years ago
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h e n l o
…They stayed at their parents' for a week or two – it was impossible to tell exactly how long with the speed at which time had passed. It wasn't all that boring stay, pretty much entertaining and relaxing, with every familiar face around, though eventually Meltem and Visenya left them for a few days to enjoy themselves in private, away from anyone, to embrace their newly changed status; to discover a different side to each other.
The town hadn't really changed much since he last saw it, even with the civil war right at its doorstep. The folk here lived their own lives, as if there wasn't a threat from the stormcloaks or awoken dragons, carrying on with their daily chores, not looking far into the future to enjoy what time they had left. It was a change after thief ridden Riften, where everything and everyone wanted to rob you of your gold, Mara’s temple being the only beacon in the sea of vile that was that city. Still, under Laila’s hand and her constant attempts at bringing the thieves down it wasn’t as bad as it could have be with Maven’s power and ties to imperials. Kynthara, being the imperial soldier, told them, that should the city get into the hands of the Empire, Maven was the first and the last candidate to replace Laila.
– Haven't seen you in a while, boy, – he heard an elderly voice, – Where have you been? – Eorlund Gray-Mane was standing behind him, carrying a few scrolls in his arms, with orders possibly.
Frankly, everyone in the city knew about his heritage, and surprisingly the nords have been very sympathetic towards him, even despite him being the grandson of one of the commanding Thalmor officers. They had to meet with Balgruuf first, though, as no newcomer could live inside the city without visiting the jarl first for the sake of security. The nord already knew Narandil – he was of a great service to him, and had acquired the title of Thane for his deeds – but the kid he brought had at the very least questionable past, and the man couldn’t afford anyone raiding the city just to get the boy back. The old elf had to swear a hundred of oaths before Balgruuf would cave in and welcome the new citizen of Whiterun, with only one condition – everyone must know everything about the kid to judge him themselves should the threat arise. It surprised Narandil as much as his foster parents that nords took him in without any grudge, treating the child as their own, Gray-Manes saying that the color of his skin or the shape of his ears don’t really matter, for they don’t define who he actually is.
– Hello, Eorlund, – Mark greeted him, turning around to face him, – Riften, but... we do travel a lot. Finally visiting my parents, and it's good to see familiar faces.
The nord let a dry laugh out.
– Aye, bet it is, – he patted the elf on his shoulders, – Why don't we chat over at the Skyforge, eh? You must miss her, – the man laughed again, – Remember you used to help me around?
The elf cringed at the memories, moving along with Eorlund.
– Yep, – he popped the 'p', arching his eyebrows, – And I almost burned that girl to ashes. Please don't remind me ever again, – he muttered quickly, following the man over to the smithy. Apparently, the man still remembered that day clearly to tease him about it like that, still, after all the years. Mark felt sorry for that girl, showing her interest in the kid just to be nearly burned with the burst of flames.
They climbed to the top, the elf getting comfortable on the edge of the forge, as the days were shorter, the winter nearing, and cold getting through the clothes. The heat radiating from it was enough to keep him warm, even making him sleepy.
He’s been watching the man sharpen the swords for a while now, chatting about random things, ranging from the impending doom of the civil war and stormcloak uprising, to the neutrality of Balgruuf, to the talks of dragons flying around and the lives of each other.
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– Eorlund, – he called the man after a moment of silence, – Are you still doing jewelry? – Mark asked out of blue, still sitting at the edge of Skyforge.
– Aye, – the nord replied, shifting his attention towards him, – Fralia sells them at the market.
The elf hesitated, playing with the hem of his coat, feeling a little bit too boyish for his comfort.
– Eh, could you make some for me? – The Gray-Mane let out a husky laugh, nodding with his head, – I'd love a couple of diamond earrings in blackened silver, and, – he checked his pockets haphazardly, getting out a thin piece of paper, unfolding it and showing the design to the master, – and a single ring of the same style.
Eorlund fell silent for a moment, studying the drawing.
– Return here in a couple of day, this time, everything will be ready, – the man confirmed the request, going over at the chest with materials.
– How much is this going to cost? Eorlund? – Mark walked towards the man, bowing near his back to look at him.
– Huh? Depends on how much diamonds I will have to use – the Gray-Mane unbent his spine, patting the kid on his shoulder, – Don't look at me all pup-eyes, boy. I could give you a hefty discount though, if you helped me around the smithy for the weekend.
– You can count on me, Eorlund, – he grinned, not noticing how he bounced on his tippy toes.
***
The elf had spent the entire weekend working at the forge, deadly tired by the end of the second day, barely making it into the bed, filthy, covered in sweat, metal and cinders, smelling like fire and blood. Mark could tell why Eorlund offered him that huge discount in exchange for his services, and why he found him roaming the streets in the first place: the order the man had to complete in a couple of days really required another pair of helping hands to made it through. He even considered giving up at some point, willing to pay the full price, persevering in the end. He couldn’t care about washing his face at the end of the day, falling onto the new sheets as is, turning them coal black; before falling asleep however, he didn’t miss the opportunity of a small mischief, gently painting a black stache above the upper lip of Aspen trying not to wake the man up.
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The next morning came crushing hard, with the body hurting everywhere he didn’t know it could hurt. Ignoring the calls from Kynthara to join the breakfast, which smelled absolutely mouthwatering – the mother made the stew he loved so bad – he instead hobbled to the baths, opting on spending half a day in the hot water. He scared his parents though, being covered head to toe in coal. Good thing the clothes he had weren’t his though.
After getting the so needed bath and taking his time in the hot water, he made his way up to the Skyforge again, to get his order and to never look back at all the weapons they had made. The jewelry looked beautiful, even better than he anticipated, with the stark diamonds playing on the blackened metal of silver. The other guy is definitely going to love them, Mark thought to himself, making his way back home, happy smile across his face.
The house was already empty, with parents gone to their own respective business: Kynthara was gone to the barracks, having to train the recruits for the city guard; Pantigion gone to Jorrvaskr, tasked with their financial affairs and actual management. The man he was looking for, however, still inside, tinkering with something near the table.
– Hey, – elf called, walking up close him, – I’ve something for you. Come here.
Aspen looked at him, rising a brow in question, yet coming up to Mark, leaving everything behind.
– What is it?
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– Here, – Mark opened his palm, the earrings hot from the warmth of his hand, – Bend down, for fuck's sake, – the elf was already standing on his tippy toes, trying to reach the man’s ear. The damn height difference, the kid thought, the guy was taller than anyone he ever knew. He had a hard time hanging a new set of jewelry on him, – Don't you dare to fucking move if you value your nuts, – the guy followed his command and bent a little forward, allowing Mark a better access to the ear. The threats always worked in his favor, he smirked.
– Maybe it is better to lift you instead? – well, not always, since the subject in question was still cocky about it.
– Shush, – the locks on the earrings clicked, and Aspen winced in pain, Mark's face glowing with pleasure, bathing in the discomfort of the other, – Don't tell me it hurts this much, you've all kinds of decorations all over your body, – the kid moved a few steps backwards, admiring the thing he's done – the blackened metal played nicely with myriads of small shining diamonds, and both earrings went well with the piercings the man had, – Suits you well, – he grinned.
The man crossed arms on his chest.
– So, whom did you murder for all these? – he motioned his head at the ring that elf was trying to put on his finger, still eyeing the earrings. The jewelry set was pretty expensive, given both earrings and the ring Mark had for himself were littered with tiny, or not so tiny, flawless diamonds – not a single soul in Skyrim could boast with anything even remotely like that. Then again, he probably didn't murder anyone for these.
– Don't.., – Mark started, raising his index finger, pouting, the ring still in the palm of his hand, – You're the murderer here, and I've commissioned Eorlund Gray-Mane to make these, – and under his breath, quietly, – Both cost a fortune, ugh, and the sleepless weekend, – and in a higher voice, – but they do look pretty!
Aspen grunted to the word.
– They do look pretty. Did not know you had it in you – appreciating jewelry of all things, – his voice leaked with sarcasm, – Thought you called them useless girly trinkets, – he motioned with his finger, asking the kid to move closer.
He couldn't help but let out a groan.
– But they are useless girly trinkets, still! – Mark let out a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes. The man opened elf's hand, getting the ring from it, placing it on Mark's finger himself, – Ungrateful asshole, – the kid muttered quietly. The blush creeped on his face quickly, turning his face red, flustered; the kid was awkwardly holding his breath, all of a sudden forgetting how to breathe in a normal way – these little "soapy" things will be the death of him, he thought.
– You can breathe now, – he heard near his ear, obscenely gasping for the air. He probably won't ever get used to this, both teasing and not teasing.
***
It was the prettiest thing he had ever gotten himself, and now it also had a sort of sentimental value? It didn’t mean anything; it had no hidden meaning or message, like of the gemstones resembled the stars on the frosty Skyrim nights, or the silver metal had ties to the Sorano-family colors. Nope, it was just a design he had come up with himself the other night, the urge to have it physically almost killing him from the inside. And now it was gone.
He searched through his bearings, then switched to wooden planks of his room – the ring could’ve rolled there pretty easily – no sign of it anywhere in the house. It was impossible that someone took it, it couldn’t fit anyone else given the size of his fingers, yet maybe-maybe someone borrowed it in the end? Like his mother, to show her friends her son’s trinket. Mark left the house, heartbeat too evident in his ears, blood rushing through the veins. He felt anxiety going up his gut, hurting him physically. He shouldn’t’ve removed it and left unsupervised.
With the corner of his eye, he noticed a glint higher up the walkway. He still had hopes of finding it, so might as well check that out, he told himself, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves nervously. Right, the girls had returned, too, but he had no occasion to brag about the new jewelry he got for himself and the other man. They were both there, laughing and giggling at something; the aforementioned man with them, face plain as always. Gods, he’d be lying if he said he missed them, her to be specifically. The elf got closer, noticing something painfully familiar on Visenya’s finger, dangling on it loosely, not fit for her size.
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– … prettier than what we’ve got ourselves, – he heard her tell Meltem with a smile on her lips, – Ah-ah, no touchy-touchy, – Visenya slapped Aspen’s hand, turning away from him – he’s been too annoying for her taste, trying to get the hold of the jewelry, – Wonder how much a blacksmith would charge to size it down.
– He will not like it if he sees you with it, – the man told her, trying to get it off her finger again.
– Oh, mind you, he doesn’t even like jewelry, – she replied in a condescending tone, slapping his hand again, harder this time, leaving a red bruise across the pale skin, – Even if he bought something shiny for you, doesn’t mean he all of a sudden loves shiny himself, – the girl stuck the tongue out, winking at him, – I know he got it for me, too bad he doesn’t remember my finger size it…
– Visenya! – the girl didn’t get to finish the sentence, as Mark appeared right by her side, trying to grab her hand, but failing miserably as she made a step back, allowing him to fall forward, following the momentum.
– Oh, thanks for the ring! I was so surprised to see it, such a nice wedding gift from you! – he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not; if it was a joke, the sarcasm wasn’t noticeable at all.
– You have to be jesting, – the elf straightened up, disbelief on his face, – It’s not a gift for you, for fuck’s sake, give it back! – one more lunge, but she pulled aside, avoiding Mark’s hands.
She glanced at him, bewildered; then her expression changed, smirk crawling up her face.
– Oh! That was a surprise! Oh, I’m so sorry I spoiled it! – she smiled innocently at him, taking the ring off of her finger, still not allowing the kid to get it back, – But anyways, it’s a great present!
– It’s not a goddamn wedding gift, you, brat, it’s my ring, – the elf muttered in frustration through the clenched teeth, trying to control the rage forming inside him. It was the usual: Visenya took his toys, and never, ever, returned them back, for some reason finding them better than the ones she had herself, even if they were identical. And she loved to mess with them, damaging beyond any repair, enjoying being the elder sibling.
She was displaying the ring in between her thumb and her index finger, standing like a triumphant she is, with a glint of confusion in her eyes. How could he say it wasn’t a gift, yet it was so pretty, more suitable for a perfect girl like herself? A man passed by her, way not too gentle brushing with his shoulder against her, the impact making the fingers slip and let the ring freely fall to the cobblestone; the three too late to notice the slip, as the ring already bounced off the stone and made its way down the street and to the gates. It happened in a snap, as a Battle-Born man stepped right over it with his steel boots, crushing the stones and bending the metal, way beyond repair.
The kid grabbed the girl by the throat in a blink of an eye, squeezing hard, facial expression unreadable, void of any emotion. There was fire in his eyes though, fury and rage, suddenly way too bright not too notice, everything he had carried so far in himself bursting open at a single person, washing over him, making him lose control. It was fast, beyond anyone’s capability to register what was about to happen. Visenya squirmed, gasping for the air like a fish stranded on a shore, trying to pry the tenacious grip of Mark's fingers off of her neck, slowly losing it, her vision fading to black. Someone else tried to pry his fingers open then – he may be feeble, yet he has a grip of an attack dog – with no luck, to which he only growled, seemingly unaware of his actions, tunnel vision keeping him fixated on the quickly whitening face, until someone's hand collided with his cheek, the smack so loud and painful, making him return to his senses. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to hurt her bad.
Visenya fell on the cobblestone with all her four, breathing loudly, checking her neck with her hands as if it was injured once again. Mark looked at her, his eyes unseeing, rage and fury still burning in his chest, as he realized what did just happen. Meltem already dropped to her knees, mouth agape, as she checked the almost strangled girl for any external injuries; Aspen was rubbing the palm of his hand, skin red from the hit. Elf’s gaze shifted at the girl again, flames igniting in his chest tenfold.
– Fuck you, – he said to no one in particular, feeling of unjust heavy within him; quickly pacing towards the city gates. He heard Meltem tell someone to follow him, but he didn't look back. He didn't feel any remorse. He had enough.
***
No one did follow him, probably thinking he needed some time alone. Yes, he definitely needed some time alone, probably more than millennia of time to get over it. The brat had it coming – she got what she deserved. Would probably be better if he strangled her right then and then, the image of her life fading felt more satisfying. Yet somehow letting her go felt better, not in a sense he let her live because she is his sister after all, or that he felt pity killing her, but in a way that she got her punishment, and the next time she crosses his path – it will be way more severe than the last time.
He jumped of a crate, moving closer to his horse. That merc he hired to assist them should be here soon, and he needs to get his bearings together for their journey to the Sea of Ghosts. He should've stuck to using mercenaries instead of a group of fucking relatives – less headaches that way, and mercs are not interested in anything else but their pay, so that could be more beneficial to him.
A strong shiver ran though him, making him shake and tremble as if it was too cold outside suddenly, his teeth chattering. The feeling of emptiness replaced his anger and rage as the adrenaline production stopped in his body, leaving him sad, feeling broken and alone. He checked the saddle on more time, pulling on the straps to see if they were holding the thing together, then moved back to the crate, seating back in his place with his legs pressed to his chest. Mark tried to relax, breathing in and out slowly, to will the feeling to go away, but it did not want to let go. He sighed, muttering something under his breath, instead humming a sad melody he heard once, but this time – it didn’t help, making him want to cry it, scream it at the top of his lungs, so loud so everything that was bothering him would just depart from the inside.
– Whatcha singin'? – he was startled by a familiar voice near him. Well, that was something new: he usually was the most paranoid one, always on the high alert, but this time he let his guard down, allowing someone to sneak up on him, – Hey babe, you okay? – Mark sighed, looking over at the mercenary. The guy had an artificial arm made of something unnatural, this time covered by a thick fur coat, his hand poking out of the sleeve – the elf hasn’t seen a prosthetic like that anywhere. The man’s eyes were of vibrant blue, glowing in the shadows, irises too unnatural, hell, whites too, too bright and without the capillaries. The face was a little bit off, looking excessively… pretty, for someone of his kind of job – the dude definitely took care of his looks.
– Just fuck off, James, – he jumped of the crate to mount his horse instead, – You're ready or what? – Mark led his horse to the entrance, exiting the stables. The sooner they depart – they sooner they will be far away, and the sooner they will get his cousin out of whatever place she’s been kept prisoner. He couldn’t help but throw a quick glance back at the city entrance though, noticing two figures running towards them right away. That made the kid groan in frustration, he didn’t want to deal with anyone of them at the moment.
– Always ready for you, babe, – the mercenary winked at him, mounting his horse, following the elf that was waiting for him on the road.
– Babe? – a female voice asked, concerned in the guy's pet names, making them both turn their heads to the sound of it. The merc took his goddamn sweet time coming here, for sure, stalling them both to allow the others to catch up with them. Meltem was way beyond being angry, Aspen besides her had a pissed look on his face himself – a big change for his facial expressions, Mark thought to himself.
– Look at you, dayum, – James whistled at the woman, eyeing her breasts without any shame. The woman cocked her brow at that, rolling her eyes.
– For fuck's sake, James! – Mark had to shout at the mercenary to get his attention back. Alright, maybe sticking up with mercs wasn't such a great idea, but this guy here was good at trailblazing and pathfinding, and he could put up with him flirting with everything on two legs for the time being. He still could punch him if he annoyed him too much, – Shove the flirt up your ass!
– Everything for you, sweetpea, – he snorted in amusement, watching the pair with the corners of his eyes – the pet names seemed to universally enrage everyone, bringing way too much joy for the mercenary, – Let's roll?
– Yeah, – Mark nodded, trying his best to ignore his companions, until the ashen haired man grabbed him by his ankle as if about to drag him off his saddle, grip way too strong to shake it off. The elf sighed, rolling the eyes, before snapping, – What?! – he was unpleasantly surprised by the bark he let out, and judging by the faces of everyone around him – that didn’t escape their notice.
– Just don’t do what you may regret later, – with that the hand on his ankle let him go.
Mark let himself laugh hysterically.
– Read my lips, – he addressed both his friends, leaning over from the saddle, – You can go fuck yourselves, – Mark spat taking off, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. It hurt that they didn’t follow them or tried to stop him despite what he told himself – that it’s going to be better this way; they let him go away with a complete stranger instead.
***
– So what's with the murder on your face? – the merc asked after days of silence. He didn’t seem to be concerned, really, but he was pretty chattery, and apparently just had a hope for a small talk, – Not that I'm against of murder, but as far as I remember it's a rescue mission.
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He made the elf roll his eyes. The man just couldn’t keep his mouth shut despite Mark’s orders and pleas.
– Bought an expensive ring for myself, – he told the mercenary with a heavy sigh, deciding on indulging the man, – sister found it, obviously, thought it was meant for her, never mind the size, – Mark looked at the sea, ever so cold, – Destroyed it in the end. So, I nearly strangled her, – the elf shared, voice blank as it was the usual business.
– Strangled her? Your own fucking sister? – James asked again with disbelief, – Sucks to be you, man. Did she do it on purpose?
– Yes, almost strangled her. Did you saw their faces? They literally wanted to whip my ass, – he stopped the horse near a broken tree, brought here by the mighty winds it seemed: there was an old boat, stranded in the shallow water, bobbing gently with the waves. It was cold this close to the open sea: soft breeze before the storm getting through the layers of clothes and under the skin; the promise of blizzard lingering in the air, as the air currents were driving dark snowy clouds forth from the north, the seam between the sea and the sky invisible in the thick veil already. Mark shuddered, hiding his head deeper into the furs. And no barrier all around to protect them from the storm, – No, don't think so, she just wanted to mess with it and with me, and she has arms growing out of her ass, – he closed his eyes, breathing heavily, trying to fight the frustration rising in his chest again.
– Nah, I saw something else, – the merc dismounted his steed, grinning with his white teeth. He made a weird gesture with both hands, showing something round in front of him, rhythmically moving them up and down next. The breast size of Meltem, exaggerated. The kid groaned, – By the way, – he asked in a small voice, conspiratorially bowing closer to the elf, – Is she with that creepy guy? Would be a shame, 'cause dayum those..., – he showed the breasts again, bouncing on his soles, his hands moving up and down under the imaginary gravity. Mark wanted to ignore that, doing his best, before slipping a smile, and bursting into a hearty laugh, mood lightening up.
– She'd murder you if you were in her immediate vicinity, she's not into dudes, – he couldn't help but smile against his own volition at the way the man portrayed a caricature of his friend.
James straightened up, pointing a finger at the elf, victory written in his face.
– Aha, thought you're not as shitty as you seem to be, – he rounded the kid, throwing his arm around elf's shoulders, – Right, babe?
Mark pushed the guy right into the boat as they were nearing it. The man let out a strangles moan, landing on the damp wood with his face.
– You’re rowing, darling, – he added with sarcasm, noting another disappointed moan as the man tried to get up, grabbing the paddles. Mark was just in time for the merc to recover and use the paddle to push from the shallows and into the sea, to the lone castle far away, completely covered in mist that hid it from everyone’s view.
– So, you didn't tell me if she's single, – James groaned painfully, as he had to move the weighty paddles, – Fuck, must’ve fallen on my rips.
– Not anymore, she's my sister's official wife, or husband, I dunno, for a few weeks already. Spoiled brat, – he cursed under his breath, shivering with the each blow of the northern wind.
– Well then, what can be better than two girls making out, am I right, especially if they're joined by a strong man? – he wiggled his eyebrows, laughing at the "ew" sound Mark made as well as his facial expression.
The man conveniently slipped into a current, making it easier for him to row the boat to the castle. It spread for quite the distance, starting just a few miles away from the shore and ending almost at the castle’s doorstep. But the chilling winds of sea – that was something to endure. The merc seemed to be okay, being completely covered in furs and generating heat by piloting the boat, yet for the already sea sick elf it was hell incarnate, being too nauseous from the constant bobbing on the high waves and cold as the result of being sick. The river boating was a far cry from the same, but in an open sea, with waves throwing them up and down. And by the end of the travel he looked rather pale than usual, wishing to just lay on the ground and die. However, the mercenary had the other plans, practically manhandling the kid right to the secret shipyard at the back of the castle.
They were met with a certain resistance from undead forces guarding the place. They had to fight their way through before they could enter the castle, and then it was James's job, again, to get them up to the tower in one piece, unnoticed by any force. He had to stop them in dark lone corners every once in a while to check on the map Meltem stole from the embassy – the route discovered by a thalmor infiltrator; the map claimed to be wary of living statues and dozens of undead, however, the portal room deemed to be safe. But traversing through the portal was another story. It wasn't all that hard for them to reach the laboratory, and Mark was kinda grateful to the man with him for doing all the stealth job himself. It was a miracle they didn't trigger anything, nor stumbled upon walking skeletons. But he couldn't help but think about his friends once again – they would gather all kinds of nasties if they went all together.
– Hey, – James closed the door to the laboratory himself, leaning against it and sliding to the floor, – How about a few hours of rest? My body is killing me, – he sighed, getting off the floor and changing his rest location to a carpet he noticed a little bit further into the room.
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– Sure, wouldn't mind that, – Mark plopped near the guy himself, a few paper rolls in his hands as well as a couple of tree twigs he found lying around the place, dumping everything in a couple of feet away from them and hoping he won't blow the thing apart with his magic. His hands lit up, flames dancing between the fingers, and he carefully fired up the paper, trying his best to keep himself in control. The paper caught the flames, and elf gently placed it back into the pile, spreading the fire to the other things in his makeshift campfire. He could've used the fireplace instead, but James advised against that, mentioning the vampires living in here, and that they don't want any more unwelcomed guests, and smoke from the fireplace would definitely alert the residents of the castle.
Mark reached his hands to the fire, warming up his frozen hands, the heat from the flames finally allowing him to bend the joints of the fingers properly. The mercenary moved closer, reaching his good hand to the fire too, the other – artificial one – still somewhere behind him.
– So, what are we doing? That books of yours, or not so yours, says we need to be either undead or bind ourselves to a soul gem, whatever that means? – James looked at the elf in question, then glanced at the staircase leading to the portal, a violet glow seeping through.
– I... don't know. I've two scrolls that can... bind souls? but a part of a soul? I'm kind of afraid to use it too, – Mark retrieved the scrolls from somewhere beneath his coat, handing them to the man, – You should do it, unless you want me to blow up this place. I'm bad in magic department, like really bad.
The merc snickered.
– Yeah, I heard about some "criminal" blowing up the thalmor embassy, – James winked at him, waggling his eyebrows, – I need to pee, be right back, – he said, getting on his feet and going in the corner near the door.
– Ew, you know... Actually never mind, I need to pee too, – the elf raised from the floor too, instead moving to the door leading to the balcony, – But unlike you I'm going to do it over the railing at the balcony.
The guy that already had unzipped his pants, zipped them back.
– Want to make our presence known with some yellow snow? I'm in, – the man grinned.
Before switching their attention to the glowing with violet portal, they had a couple of hours of rest, to get their strength back for traversing to the other side, with unknown waiting for them. Mark couldn't help but let his thoughts wander back to what had happened a few days ago, with him and his sister, what she and the others thought of him. Now with the time that had passed since the event, he actually felt sorry for losing control like that, for almost strangling her, for telling his companions to go fuck themselves, for all the thoughts that he had in regards to Visenya. But he was still pissed at her for destroying something he worked hard for – the only pretty shiny ring that he ever got for himself, and the amount of money he put to get it. He shouldn't’ve lost control. But he saw red, blacked out until Aspen slapped him across his face. He used to have those black outs before. It was just as if his body was operating on an autopilot, yet he himself gave commands to it, fully aware of his actions; however, it always seemed like his entire self had a switch somewhere deep inside him that... changed him like that. His first... victim, victims... were some kids that made fun of him, calling him a half-blood, back on Alinor. They were lucky Esmir was nearby, successfully stopping her very young grandson from murdering the other kids. He still remembered the look on her face, something between being proud and being afraid, yet she didn't let that known. Instead of punishing him for the outburst, she had her physician check on him, and after that assigned a trainer to him to keep him in check. The other was Orlan: the bosmer was way too violent with the kid, and Mark couldn't stand that any longer, jumping at the man in a snap, aiming at his face. He bit the tip of his ear off and tried to claw his eyes out, leaving three long scars across the face. It was a miracle the bosmer was saved at all... He was humiliated, scars serving a bitter reminder; even if he says he got those form an especially vicious dog he had to train once, in reality it was just a boy that had enough. There were others too, all way too lucky to be saved by Orlan that was appointed by Esmir to guard the kid from anyone, or rather anyone from the kid. Guess all the skills he had learned from the countless hounds trained helped him to keep Mark in control.
– Yo, kid, you're awake? – the merc dropped near him, checking if he was sleeping or not.
– Not anymore, no, – he shook his head, getting to his feet slowly, – Should we head out? – it sounded a little bit more uncertain than he would've liked.
– Yeah, can't stall this forever, – James headed upstairs, to the staircase leading to the portal. He read the scrolls once again, preparing, before casting a spell on himself, a soul gem in his pocket slightly shining, – Come here, your turn! – he called for Mark, watching the kid, nervous, stand before him, awaiting for the inevitable soul bind; the merc reading the scroll aloud, – The shit didn't work, – cursing, the merc tried again, as the elf closed eyes, as if expecting a jolt of pain or a hit, – Fuck, the hell doesn't it work?
Mark pried one eye open.
– Stop messing around, just hit me with the spell, – he pleaded, and the man tried to do so again, only to find the spell fail one more time.
– I surely do this right, but the thing doesn't work with you, – James looked over at the scroll and at the soul gem the elf was holding – it seemed like Mark's soul just refused to be bound, let alone to be torn apart. Maybe the soul gem was filled? Can't be, it seems to be empty. Still, he handed the elf another one from the enchanting table, and a dozen of others they found lying around the room, – Hey, it may sound a bit weird, but maybe you could try to pass through the portal as is? Something tells me...
– I'm not gonna pay you if I die to a portal sucking me off.
The man laughed aloud, slapping a hand on his thigh.
– I'd actually pay myself to see a portal sucking off someone.
– You're disgusting, – the elf smiled, actually getting ready to traverse through as is.
– I'm not getting you our if it starts sucking on you, just a warning. I'm a pervert, and I want to see it, – but contrary to his words, James grabbed a fistful of Mark's coat and followed him into the portal, violet light engulfing them both.
They stepped out of the portal on the other side. A barren wasteland lied there with topless black towers dominating over the gray sand. A whirlwind of colors danced above the desert.
– Fuck me, this is the fucking Soul Cairn, – James muttered, looking all over the place, – How didn't I put one and two together earlier? Shit.
– What's the matter?
The place looked familiar somehow, but elf couldn't tell what exactly was that. He's never been here, never seen anything like it, yet the colors, noises, wind; the ambiance was pretty... recognizable, if only he could place a finger at...
– ... Mission control to the knife ear, come in, – James poked elf's sides, making him stop spacing out.
– Yeah, yeah, what? Sure, – he shook his head, – Just... weird place.
– Yep, – the human popped the p, looking around, – As I was saying, this place is a fucking mess, and if I knew you were to drag me here, I'd tell you to fuck off. Oh, by the way, have you ever had a near death experience?
– You talk a lot, – Mark squinted at him, – Nope, never had anything like that.
– Then how the hell were you able to get here? Anyways, despite how much I want you to take your time, and I must absolutely remind you that I, your handsome mercenary, take pay per hour, we should get going. It's too weird in here for me. Also dangerous. Oh, and we should get that piece of my soul back, too.
The elf didn't reply, instead focused on the map he grabbed from the man. Shit, the guy talked too much. Livaen was here somewhere, far from the entrance, as much as he could tell from the writings. That journal with the map in it said she was kept in a castle of sorts, and it won't be an easy thing to miss once they head deeper in the place.
James also turned out to be way too smart and skillful than Mark initially anticipated. The guy had a talent for avoiding ambushes and walking undead. He even asked if the merc had been to this place before, admiring his skill in avoiding traps in this god forsaken world. And he couldn't help but wonder how would it be like with the rest of his company, triggering the enemies and traps all the way to the destination, fighting off hordes of skeletons and ghosts on their way there. And someone would probably get injured, like bad, that's inevitable with the annoying girl.
They reached the place where the piece James's souls was stored at, taking a moment of rest to review their progress in a seemingly safe place after at the top of a ruined tower, away from the life sucking crystals and walking monsters. From this spot the world was like on a palm of a hand, so vast and empty.
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– You think too loud, – the merc slid down the wall, getting comfortable on the floor, – Still think about that annoying sister of yours?
– Can't help it, – Mark sighed, lying on the cold black stone.
– Were you comparing me with those friends of yours? – the guy smirked, getting a candy for himself out of a pocket.
– Uh-uh, I said I can't help it, – elf nodded, rubbing his hands against his pants to get them a little bit warmer: for some reason they couldn't get a fire going in here, – Wonder if Aspen would call her charming ever again.
– The creepy guy with..., – he made another gesture showing tits, as Mark groaned, – I mean, not his tits, that would be even creepier, but that shmexy lady with the tits.
– Shmexy? Gods, you're obnoxious, merc, – elf laughed. The guy had an exceptional ability to lighten the mood anywhere.
– You know, – all of a sudden James's voice sounded way too serious, – Even if she is annoying, obnoxious, and you hate her with all your guts, she still is your sister.
– I don't pay you for philosophy.
– No, I'm seriously, listen. I... would give a lot to get my sister back, hell, even parents too. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but you catch my drift. You gotta admit you still love her. Otherwise, you wouldn't arrange a rescue mission for this another sister of yours. You may have some problems communicating with her later, yes, but you'll find out you still care for her, that's how it works. Even if you tried to kill her – well, happens, that's how sibling relationship works. But you don't hate her. You'll come around. She'll be okay too.
Mark tried his best not to listen to the mercenary, though the harder he tried to do so, the harder he listened to the man. Everything he said – it is true. He was frustrated and angry with her, very-very angry, but she's... she's still his sister, someone he's been growing up together. Losing her would definitely cost a lot more than that ring. Yes, the ring was expensive and pretty, but his relationship is kind of worth more.
– She's an asshole, – he muttered under his breath, hiding his face between his legs, as he pulled them to his chest, – Yeah, I do care. But... yep, it'll be of a great trouble to talk to her after, – it seemed ridiculous, the guy had a talent of a preacher, – You sound like a fucking Mara priest.
The guy only smiled an honest smile, winking at the kid.
– You should’ve told her it’s a cock ring though, she’d return it in no time.
The elf slapped himself flat across the face, groaning.
They spent a couple more hours at the top of the tower, planning their routes to and back, observing the whole place from a bird's eye view. Here, that dreaded castle could be seen, black walls surrounding it. It seemed like this place hadn't had any guards around, or they all should be inside, making the castle infested with all kinds of monsters, though judging by the infiltrator's journal there were none, like at all, with the only prisoner in there – a lone and scared girl. And after they were done arguing about the best way to get to the castle and back, they headed down and to their destination, following James's proposed plan.
As they got close, they could really tell that the place had no guards whatsoever, not even undead, and the infiltrator’s journal was right all along. Except that they found at least two bodies in thalmor armor, dead for a long time already, bodies already decomposing.
James slowly opened the giant gate, leading to the courtyard of the castle, trying his best not to let the door squeak; Mark followed him closely behind, bow ready for the possible ambush. He breathed out in relief, sheathing the weapon, as the was no one to attack them, but the mercenary still didn’t lower his guard, commanding the elf to cover and slowly progress forward. Until he saw a woman figure, all alone in this place, sitting on a stair of stones, book in her hand. Her raven black hair covered her face, wavy as ever; he clothes clean without any signs of struggle.
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Mark left the cover despite James’s commands, moving closer to her, his speed increasing with each step taken, and at the end he was just running carelessly, getting her attention with the loud impacts with the ground of his heavy reinforced boots.
– Markus! – she howled, her mouth agape, covered by her hand, – Is this really you? – she lunged forward, letting the kid collide with her, the embrace ever so warm. The thoughts raced in her head, as she still didn’t believe her eyes. She broke from the hug, his hands still on her back though as if she was about to run away, studying his face carefully, then hugging him again after she made sure he wasn’t a dream, – I missed you so much! It’s been years since I last saw you!
The elf tightened the hug, lifting her from the ground to get a better squeeze from his cousin.
– Yes, I've had that name for couple dozens of years already, – he couldn't help but reply with sarcastic tone, smiling to the girl, – Are you okay? Are you hurt?
– No, no, I'm all okay, – she let him go, smiling for the first time in forever being the prisoner here, doing a step back to make some space between them. They were joined by the mercenary soon that had his bow ready to defend them should the need arise, – What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here!
– I know, but... I went through all the trouble to get to you, so I don’t really give a damn. We need to get you out of here asap, – he grabbed her by her wrist, looking all around them, as if someone would interfere. They could leave the courtesies for the later, when they are back in their world, yet the girl seemed to dislike the idea, as the smile faded from her face
– I can't go. You won't be able to get me out of here, – she said, sadness in her voice, – All the agents Esmir had sent – all failed. This place just won't let go, Markus, – Livaen felt a prickle of a tear in the corner of her eye, wiping it with her hand, – I know you're better than them, but even you won't succeed. Even Esmir herself, – they let the silence fill the pause, looking at each other. Only a moment ago she was happy to see him again, feeling completely destroyed now by being unable to leave. A sound of thunder startled them, lightning lighting up the place for a second, prompting the girl to throw a quick glance behind her shoulder, panic visible in her eyes, – Quick, hide! – the girl shoved both men away from herself, – Hurry! – she bellowed, making them run away from her, to hide behind piles of rubble, watching her closely. A lightning bolt stroke the ground in a few feet away from her, allowing a human figure appear in the violet glow. It made a few steps towards her, away from the fading light, opening its arms in greeting.
– Good day, Livaen, – the figure bowed, and Mark finally noted it was actually a noble looking man, – Do you have any news for me? Did your esteemed grandmother send another agent? – he moved closely, voice leaking with venom at the only mention of Esmir.
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– No, – she replied, voice stern, but with barely noticeable tremble to it.
– Are you sure? Do you remember what happens when I am lied to? – the man rounded her, looking around, – I'm certain someone has passed through the portal, and actually made it here, such a rarity, – his voice deep, cold and husky, dangerous tone masked as indulgent.
– The agent has already left, – she never was a good liar, but the tone with which she spoke made Mark swell with pride, – You are too late.
The man laughed huskily, looking all around the rubble of the courtyard, and Mark could've sworn the stranger's gaze stopped right there, where the elf was hiding, looking straight into the eyes for a moment, before shifting back to the girl.
– I will let this lie pass, this time, – he nodded, – Because not only the agent didn't left, we have actually two guests hiding behind the rubble, – his voice different, threat palpable this time, – Your new friends should come out if they value your life just as much as I do, – James threw a glance over at Mark, shooting daggers at him in question. The elf only shrugged his shoulders, ready to get on his feet and out from the cover, as the merc stopped him with a gesture. With no response, the stranger sighed with frustration, – As much as I would love to play with you both, you have to come out at some point, and it's better be now. Do you hear me? – no response again, – Markus, – he said all of a sudden, making the elf glance over at James with an unpleasant surprise written on his face, – Welcome to my world. I would be grateful if you could gather all your courage together and face me, – the man let out a sarcastic laugh, – So much for the fabled arsonist…
The elf sighed in defeat, getting out from behind the rubble pile.
– I'm facing you, now what? – he spread his arms in question. The mercenary followed him, leaving the cover.
The man looked over the intruders, then around himself, as if someone else had been watching them.
– This isn't how I wanted this to happen, – he said, squinting at something in the distance, uninterested in the men in an unsettling way, – But there's not much time left, – the man switched his gaze back at the intruders, also commanding Livaen to come forward with a motion of his hand. He seemed to be overly concerned about something, being almost at the edge of paranoia, as he continued talking to the strangers, – I'm going to contact you soon, – he pointed at the elf, – when it will be safe, without anyone else to overhear us.., – Mark opened his mouth to speak up, and the man didn't even let him start a sentence, interrupting him with a gesture of his hand, pressing the index finger to his lips, – Your "friends" here are the least of my concern, believe me, but we are not alone here anymore, as another party is about to join us, – with a sigh, he pushed the girl towards them, Mark catching her into his embrace, – Take the girl and get out of here. Think of it as a demonstration of my good will, – the company hesitated, not sure if the man before them was joking or not. He let out another frustrated sigh – mortals seem to be too dense these days, – Get out, now, – the man calmly told them, – You don't want to be here when the other party arrives. Livaen, see to it. Now out! – he clapped with his hands, prompting the three to go running away from him and out of the gates.
They exited the courtyard and back into the barren wasteland. It seemed to be even quieter now, void of anything, even the undead roaming around. Except for a few ones that passed by right in front of them, ignoring the living. Mark raised a hand for his companions to stay quiet, trying to pick any noise around – complete nothingness, however, a sound of fighting could be heard in the distance, and Livaen ushered them all forth, throwing glances in the direction of the sound.
– Who was that? – James broke the silence, addressing the girl.
– We must not talk while we are here, – she replied, taking the lead of the company.
Following Livaen, they made a big circle around the path they had taken before, avoiding visible roads and paths at any costs. The monsters, ghosts, undeads – they all seemed to abandon the place, none to be found all around them except for a few weak ones, crawling to the sounds of fight slowly, disregarding the living. Despite the sudden absence of any inhabitants of the world, the girl did not let anyone stop or take a moment to catch a breath, instead herding them to the glowing violet in the distance, portal presumably.
Mark glanced back at the castle, a good distance separating them now. It was just as before, yet a sound of thunder and explosions came from its direction, and once they climbed a hill – a battle could be seen. This is where all the undead went, leaving their usual positions of idling – they tried to stop someone, or rather something, from getting close to the black walls of the castle they've been to before. He looked back at Livaen, wanting to ask her something, but stopping himself right when he was about to open his mouth. The stance of the girl told him there was no time for bullshit.
They finally made it to the portal. The sounds of fight even louder than before, a whole magic show behind them, visible through the thick mist. Livaen wasn’t about to waste any more time, shoving the men up the stairs, following them closely behind. Mark couldn't tell the reason for her to be so rough, but he didn't question it, obeying every single her command. Once they were to the other side, however, she let a sigh of relief, cueing the men to relax, as she herself slit the palm of her hand with a shiv, swiftly closing the portal, stones of the stairs crumbling as the magic binding it together disappeared, completely destroying the passage.
– They will have to find another way out once they find out we are not there anymore, – she told her cousin, noticing the question on his face. A healing spell lit up in her hand, closing the bloody wound on the other one, – I guess you have questions?
The mercenary let out a hysterical laugh, collapsing on the floor not far away from everyone.
– Like hell! Who the fuck was that, and what was that fight all about? – James asked, catching his breath. Mark leaned against the wall near him, sliding to the floor, strength long gone from the escape.
– Yeah, who was that? – the elf's breath seemed to be completely knocked off.
– You do not know? – she asked, surprised, joining them by the wall, – You went to rescue me without knowing what were you about to face? – the men nodded, telling her the journal didn't mention anyone else, besides monsters and undead, – You are goddamn fools, do you know that? – Mark laughed at that, still having problems with steady breathing, and James only raised his hands in agreement, – Molag Bal. That was Molag Bal himself, you morons, – she heard the mercenary choke on saliva.
– Wait-wait-wait, – he uttered, still coughing, – How was that possible? Also, doesn't he usually r-a-p-e anyone in his vicinity?
– Too busy with whatever is bothering him, – Livaen replied, gaze wondering around the laboratory, – Ever since I got in his hands, it was the complete opposite of what common knowledge says of him. But he did murder all those agents that were unfortunate enough to not take the cue to leave in time, – she exhaled, deeply, troubled with saying the next sentence, choosing her words carefully, – I was brought by a dremora of his to the Coldharbour first… in a bad shape. Thought I was done for. But… he showed mercy? It was… bizarre.
– And what about the "other party" he spoke about? – Mark asked, eyebrow cocked. The words of the most cruel daedric prince being merciful shocked him, yet he didn’t let that show. Somehow he felt like pressing into the matter further wouldn’t go as great at the moment, the questions should wait at least until they’re safe, – Did they chase us?
– I don't know anything about them. But I know enough that he feels... threatened about it, – she let a sigh out.
They stayed quiet for a while: the merc was fast asleep, too tired to stay awake; the kid was spacing out, mind completely blank; the girl in her own thoughts, curled around the arm of her cousin.
– You said you're broken, alone, cold, – Mark broke the silence, addressing Livaen.
She looked at him, surprised, pulling back a little.
– No, I didn't.
– No, no, you said it in my dream...
– In your dream? Mark.., – she sounded confused, – Mark, I can't go into anyone's dreams, that is something... something way beyond my capabilities... I.., – she didn't finish the sentence, falling quiet instead.
– ...What did happen to you?
– I don't want to talk about it, – the girl replied, changing the pose to face away from the cousin. The elf looked at her, contemplating on the choices here, opting on pulling her closer: he extended the arm, grabbing her by the front and pressing her back into a hug. Should have done this earlier, as the girl relaxed, – I missed you. Came all the way from Summerset to the border of Skyrim.
Mark snorted.
– Yeah, speak of the brave girls, – he gently stroked her head, placing a kiss at her temple, – I missed you too, – Mark wanted to press into the matter, ask more about what really happened to her, yet she didn't feel comfortable talking, it seemed, and instead he focused on soothing her. Eventually she will tell him. With that, he slowly drifted to sleep, too carefree now to feel bothered by the ancient vampire castle.
***
They made it back to the outside later that day and back to the boat. Skyrim greeted them with blazing storm, wind howling among the rock and rubble, water splashes from the sea turning ice midair, snow whirlwinding all around them. The girl was obviously not used to these conditions, trembling under the cold Skyrim wind, even covered in fur blanket James had brought with him before.
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Going back during a snowstorm proved to be more than difficult: they almost managed to get lost in the waters, nearly sailing towards the frozen, fabled Atmora, but were lucky enough to catch the same current that brought them back to the shore from which they had departed, only mere moments before the blizzard worsened. It was fun, so to speak. Livaen urged them to go forth, despite cold and blowing wind, snow acting like a sandpaper, bruising their frostbitten skin.
It’s been a few more days until they finally got back. They were deadly tired, their horses as well - poor animals had to endure a lot; the blizzard spread across whole Haafingar and extended to the borders of Whiterun hold, slowing them down, making them stop for camping rather often. Mark had never seen the weather be this bad, given the years he’s been away from Summerset. For a southern girl – Livaen thought of this as of a complete hell, saying that being the prisoner wasn’t as bad as the snowstorm.
– We’re here, – Mark dismounted his horse, helping Livaen to get down next, passing the animal to the man in charge of the stable, – Take care of them, they’ve been through a lot, – to that the man nodded, waiting for the other guy to give his horse into the care. James patted his steed by the neck, allowing it to go after the caretaker, – We won’t need your assistance any further, – the elf addressed the mercenary. He reached the inner pockets of his coat, getting out a pouch with gold, – Your pay. Should be enough.
The merc smirked, weighting the pouch on his hand.
– Yep, seems about right, – he swiftly untied the knot, looking at all the coins inside, – It’s been good dealing with you, dear, would love to work with you once more, – James extended his hand to Mark, shaking their hands. The elf winced – he definitely wouldn’t hire anyone again in the near future, as the pay of the mercenary had caused a huge blow to his budget, and the pet names were too annoying. The guy still was one of the best in this entire province, so he didn’t really mind much.
– Thanks for helping me, – the kid smiled an honest smile, – I wouldn’t’ve gotten my sister back without you, – he tugged the girl into a half hug, finally at peace with her around.
– Saying your goodbyes already? I’m wounded, – the man theatrically laughed, – It was a fun ride, so I’d like to see you actually get to safety of your parents’, – James motioned at the direction of the city with his artificial hand, suggesting to finally end their journey. The elves nodded, following him, chatting amicably.
They were at the doorstep of the house, Mark ready to knock the door, instead just allowing them in. Before he could do that, however, James’s hand stopped him, carefully squeezing his arm.
– Whatever happens, she, – he made an emphasis at the mess that happened a week or so ago, – she still is your sister. And you love her, despite her being a brat, – The man let him go, allowing to proceed. Mark sighed, loudly, nodding with his head to acknowledge the mercenary’s words. Right. Whatever happens, it’s all past now, and he can’t allow them all to be divided again.
The door opened, and Mark let himself in, gesturing the others to enter the house. The house was empty, no sound of anyone inside. The fire in the fireplace kept going though, something cooking in the pot, steam coming from under the lid.
– Is anyone home? – he asked loudly, waiting for someone to reply or come out. Not a single soul, – Guess everyone’s out, – Mark shrugged his shoulders moving to the kitchen to find some edibles to consume – they’ve all been starving.
After eating some of the stew the mother had made, the three moved over to the fireplace, getting comfortable on the rug near it. The warmth was something they had definitely missed in the past few days. The leisure time was spent in talking to each other, discussing their journey or plans for the future; the mercenary quickly drifted to sleep not a while after – it was ridiculous how quick he could just fall asleep; as well as the girl, comfortable in the brother’s embrace. Now that Mark was alone wide awake, the thought about pressuring Livaen into telling him about what happened to her had crossed his mind again, yet he had enough empathy to tell she was not ready to open up yet. Couple more minutes, and he drifted to sleep himself, exhausted from the rescue and quite comfortable in the warmth of the house.
– … that turnip was bad, – was heard on the other side of the door before it swung open, an old and scarred elf appearing on the doorstep. He first reached to the sword on his back, noticing the intruders, then just lunged forward, recognizing the sleeping people, – By the nine! – his heavy armor made a screeching noise as he fell down before them, kneeling at their level. The noise startled the three awake: the man just groaning in response, shifting to the other side just to face away from the doorway; the girl blinking with her widely open eyes, mouth agape; the kid just utterly confused, trying to push the elf away from them. Without any success in shoving the old man back, the altmer retaliated, grabbing the kids into a tight hug, nuzzling into their hair. The girl whined, unable to breathe, and Narandil loosened the grip on them both, instead cupping Livaen’s face with his palms, – I had no hopes of seeing you again, – he gently stroked her head.
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The others swiftly joined the old man, gathering all around them.
– I’m surprised you made it back, – the redguard woman said, kneeling down near them. That went out in a different tone that she initially planned on, – I’m sorry, didn’t mean it to sound like that, – she got closer to Mark, hugging him slightly, – You made us worry… shitless, – the woman cringed at the word, still holding the kid in one place. He threw his arms around her back in reply, and soon was followed by couple more sets of arms.
– I’m sorry I said that, – the words of apologies were never easy for him, having to force them out instead, – Shouldn’t’ve said it and rushed like that, – he heard an obnoxious tongue clicking right near his ear, making him sigh with relief, – And I’m really sorry I snapped like that at you, – the tongue clicking stopped, and instead he could feel the mischievous smile of Visenya, the words of James still lingering in his head.
The girl pulled away from him, suddenly gaining a whole new interest in something, or rather someone else. And he was really worried he’d have problems communicating with her in future.
– Oh my god, you’ve brought me a new boyfriend, – she gasped, quickly moving toward the half-awake still dazed merc. Meltem sighed at that.
Mark looked all around the room, finding Aspen beside him. The parents were standing a little farther away, watching the drama with obvious amusement. Narandil had already pulled Livaen to her feet, making sure everyone met her properly. Visenya was cooing all around the merc, seemingly interested in him more than in anyone else, then all of a sudden switching her attention to Livaen, calling her yet another girlfriend material, making the old elf issue the brat a light slap on the back of her head.
– Hey, you can let me go, both of you, – the kid patted the hands of his companions, prompting them to release him from their hold, raising off the floor with external help. It was… strange, he thought, that no one has given a damn about what happened… or rather tried to pretend like it never happened. Either way, he was relieved to be back home, his cousin back at his side, again, with nothing else to worry about for now.
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musette22 · 5 years ago
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(If Paradise Is) Half as Nice
Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)
Rating: E (18+)
Word count: 2370
A/N: This is the first fic in my 700 followers celebration! I’ll be posting a short fic every Sunday for the next five weeks. As some of you may have noticed, I’ve been going on about Sebastian’s obvious praise kink quite a lot lately :p Some of you asked me to write the fic, so I did 😇
Read it on AO3
The late afternoon sun has a way of making Sebastian’s skin glow like the light’s coming from the inside out, painting him golden and luminous and making it impossible for Chris to take his eyes off him for even a second.
It’s rare for them to have a whole weekend together, much as Chris wishes it were different, but when it happens, they try and make the most of it. This time, they’re staying at a friend’s cabin on the lake and they’ve been spending most of the weekend so far just reading, swimming, and dozing on the grass.
Sebastian has had his eyes closed for a good fifteen minutes now, not that Chris has been counting, his breaths even and light, chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm that makes Chris feel calm and contented.
Sebastian is drinking in the sunshine, and Chris is drinking in Sebastian.
“I can feel you staring, Chris,” Sebastian murmurs suddenly, startling Chris a little. “Quit it, it’s creepy.”
Given the hint of a smile on Seb’s lips, though, Chris can’t feel too bad about getting caught. He pushes himself up on his right elbow, figuring he may as well get comfortable now that he doesn’t have to be sneaky about it anymore.
“Can’t help myself,” he admits, keeping his voice down despite the fact there’s no one around for miles and miles. “You’re just so fuckin’ beautiful, baby.”
Sebastian huffs, cranking open one eye to level Chris with a look. “Alright, Casanova. The sun gone to your head or something?”
“I mean it,” Chris insists, smiling down at him. “You look like a swimwear model, you know that? Wish I had my camera on me, it’s a damn shame no one’s recording this.”
This time, Sebastian full on rolls his eyes, but there’s a blush on his cheeks now, visible even despite the sun. Chris feels a little thrill at having put it there and instantly wants to see more of it, so he continues, “You know, I still can’t believe you’re mine sometimes.” Lifting his left hand to Sebastian’s face, he lightly strokes the sharp edge of his jawline with the tip of his index finger. “Look at you. If I’m not the luckiest sonuvabitch on the planet then I don’t know who is.”
“Oh, god,” Sebastian groans, covering his burning face with his hands.
“No, don’t hide, baby,” Chris coos, carefully prying Seb’s fingers away from his face. “C’mon, look at me.” When Seb reluctantly lets his hands fall away, Chris makes sure to look him straight in the eye before adding, “Face that pretty face should never be covered up.”
Sebastian’s breath hitches, his gaze locking onto Chris’, making his heart thump heavily in his chest.
“God, your eyes,” Chris breathes, mind conjuring up trite analogies with the open ocean, that elusive point where the sky meets the sea and all that jazz. Still, whoever said that the eyes are the windows to the soul was damn right in Sebastian’s case, because his are bright and beautiful and full of love. “I could look into those eyes for days and not once get bored.” He huffs a laugh. “Trust me, I know how cliché that sounds, but I mean it. I really do.”
Sebastian’s gaze is open and trusting now as he looks up at him, just soaking up his words, and Chris adores it when he gets like this. It makes him want to take care of him, even more than he usually does.
“And your smile,” he goes on, really gathering steam now. “Oh, honey, your smile is my favorite thing in the whole world. The way it lights up your face… It just takes my breath away every time, I swear to god.”
Gently, Chris touches his finger to the tip of Seb’s nose, making him scrunch up his face just a little, crinkling up his nose, and Chris lets out a groan. “Baby,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically. “Baby, don’t do this to me. I can’t handle it, it’s too fucking cute.” Leaning down, he presses a quick kiss to Sebastian’s cheek, just above the corner of his mouth.
Sebastian lets out a soft sigh, closing his eyes for just a moment. When he opens them again and refocuses on Chris face, they’re darker already, black threatening to swallow up ocean grey.
Slowly, Chris lets his fingers trail down to Sebastian’s lips, lightly brushing the pads over the soft, plump curve of them. “And this mouth… sweetheart, this mouth makes me lose my fucking mind. It’s a menace, you know that, right? I only gotta look at it and I get all hot, thinking of all the things it can do, the way it tastes, how it feels on my skin, fuck–”
He presses the tips of his index and middle finger against Seb’s lips, silently asking him to part them, which he does without hesitation. Chris pushes his fingers past those sinful lips, into the wet heat of him, pressing against the enticing, velvety softness of his tongue. When Sebastian closes his lips around them, suckling gently while keeping his eyes locked with Chris, the sensation shoots straight to Chris already half-hard cock.
It’s so tempting to give in and just have Sebastian there and then, to stop playing around and just take what he needs from him, but that’s not what this is about. This, right here, is all about Sebastian, and Chris is not even close to being done with him yet.
Focus, Chris tells himself.
Reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers, only to trace a wet trail down Seb’s throat, over his collarbone and further south, noticing with delight how Sebastian’s breath picks up, starts growing erratic. When his forefinger brushes, feather-light, over Seb’s right nipple, Sebastian jerks.
“Ah, ah,” he breathes, and Chris hums, rubs the hardening peak more firmly, pinching it lightly between his thumb and his forefinger, the motion slow and deliberate because he knows it drives his baby wild.
When Sebastian’s hand shoots up and curls around Chris’ wrist, Chris shakes his head.
“Uh uh, sweetheart,” he chides gently. “No touching. All I need you to do right now is just lay back, can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy for me and just let me love on you a little?”
Sebastian looks up at him with big, pleading eyes for a moment, before suddenly deflating, giving a tiny nod. He bites down on his lower lip, and Chris heart does something funny inside his chest.
“Oh, that’s sweet of you.” His gentle tone is at odds with the way he’s now fondling the left side of Sebastian’s chest, teasing his other nipple with just a hint of nail. “Such a good boy.”
Chris watches his words take effect, sees how they cause Sebastian’s eyes to glaze over and his breathing to speed up to the point where he’s almost panting.
Leaning closer, Chris murmurs, “I just can’t think when I’m around you, sweetheart. It’s crazy how much I want you, every damn minute of every day. Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve had you before, I just wanna have you again –” he presses a light kiss to Sebastian’s lips, “and again,” – another kiss – “and again.”
Seb makes a small, involuntary sound, his hands curling into fists where they lie at his sides but otherwise staying completely still, as instructed.
“I get so distracted when you’re near me,” Chris continues softly, lips ghosting over Sebastian’s. “Doesn’t matter where we are, or who we’re with, I’ll just be sittin’ there, imagining all these things… Oh, honey, the things I’d do to you. I’d kiss you ‘till you can’t breathe…”
He kisses Seb for real then, their mouths open and hot, tongues sliding together slick and slow, causing Chris skin to tingle all the way down to the soles of his feet. Sebastian, for his part, is almost vibrating beneath him with the effort of holding still, of not reaching up to touch Chris like he’s yearning to. He manages to check himself, though, just about keeps himself from giving in to the urge, and Chris is so proud of him he could cry.
When he finally draws back, eliciting an honest to god whine from Sebastian, he strokes Seb’s hair back off his forehead. “Shhh, baby,” he coos. “Shhh, it’s okay, just relax, yeah?”
He waits a few moments, just long enough for Sebastian to calm down a little. “So I'll be sitting there, thinking about how I’d undress you, how I'd slowly get you naked, all that perfect, smooth skin laid out for me to get my mouth on. I’d kiss you all over, lick every inch of that perfect body –”
Ducking his head, Chris softly presses his lips to the overheated skin of Sebastian’s throat, feeling the way his breath catches in his throat. Seb tilts his head back, silently asking for more, but Chris doesn’t do anything else just yet, just focuses on keeping up the steady stream of praise and filth.
“And then,” he whispers, voice gone dark and a little rough, “then, I’d spread you open, nice and wide so I can get my mouth on that pretty little hole.” Chris moans quietly, like he’s going down on Seb right now instead of just talking him up. “Mmm, baby, you feel so good on my tongue, you know that? Best thing I’ve ever tasted. And you’ll let me tease you a little, won’t you? Let me lick and suck at your hole ‘till you’re all raw and wet, and then I’ll push my tongue inside, deep as it’ll go. Use my fingers too, stick ‘em in with my tongue, rubbing you all slow and deep while you’re making all these sweet little sounds underneath me…”
Sebastian whimpers, back arching off the floor, and Chris smiles to himself.
“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers softly, closely watching Sebastian’s reactions. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Like it when I finger that needy little hole, licking around my fingers to keep you nice and wet while I work you open. Eat you out ‘till you’re all loose and sloppy, and you’re crying little with how good it feels, hm? God, you’re so goddamn pretty when you cry, Sebastian.”
Seb draws in a shuddery breath, looking pretty close to tears right this moment, but Chris goes on regardless. “And I’ll just keep on going ‘till you’re desperate for it, ‘till you’re begging me to fuck you–”
A tiny little please escapes past Sebastian’s bitten lips then, interrupting him, and Chris hushes him.
“Aw, don’t you worry, sugar, I’d give you what you need,” he soothes. “Give you my cock, hm? You’ve been so good for me, you’ve earned it. Maybe I’ll rub it up on you a little, give you just the tip first, just a little bit, and then I’ll fill you up nice and slow, stretch that pretty hole right open for me.”
Chris groans quietly, caught up in his own fantasy. “Fuck, you’re still so tight, Sebastian, always so hot and tight and perfect for me.” Seb’s breath is coming in short, panting bursts now, erection tenting his swim shorts obscenely, yet still, Chris keeps his touches light and strictly above board.
“I’ll go slow, fuck you nice and deep, just how you like it. God, you look so good on my cock, sweetheart, absolutely stunning. And then I’ll get your legs up over my shoulders and push in again just right, hitting your sweet spot over and over again ‘till you’re sobbing for me.”  
Shifting, Chris gets his right hand under Sebastian’s head, threading his fingers into his hair and tugging on it just a little, making Seb gasp and tilt back his chin so Chris can slot their mouths together again. He doesn’t kiss him, just keeps Sebastian still while he murmurs into his slack, open mouth.
“Crying ’cause it feels so good have my cock buried deep inside, huh? And while you’re moaning my name, I would be watching you, watching your pretty face. You look amazing when you’re being fucked, Sebastian, never seen anything like it. Sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on when you’re writhing underneath me, squeezing around my cock, driving me outta my mind with that sweet little ass of yours.”
With his free hand, Chris continues to trace patterns on Sebastian’s overheated skin, light, teasing caresses that have Seb trembling hard, muscles straining with the effort of keeping still, body strung tight as a bow. Chris fingertips ghost over Sebastian’s defined abs, his hard, peaked nipples, then down again over his flanks, to the jut of his hipbones.
When he slowly traces his hand up the inside of his leg, up and up until he reaches the sensitive skin where his thigh meets his groin, Sebastian moans, sudden, bucking up violently and making little circling motions with his hips, desperate for friction.
Finally, Chris takes mercy on him. Without further ado, he lays his hand over the bulge in Seb’s trunks, pressing down a little before palming his straining erection. Sebastian moans helplessly, loud and wanton now that he’s getting what he needs, and by the sounds of it, it won’t take much before he reaches his tipping point.
Chris gets his hand around Seb’s length through the fabric, squeezing once, twice, and that’s all it takes for Sebastian to go tense all over, eyes rolling back as he starts to come, making the sweetest little breathless sounds in the back of his throat that Chris swallows right up. He keeps their mouths pressed together throughout, murmuring to him sweet and low. “That’s it, that’s my good boy. So pretty for me, honey… Oh, look at you. Love you so fucking much, Sebastian, to the moon and back, baby, you ‘n me.”
In that moment, as in all other moments, Chris loves Seb so much his chest aches with it, and when Sebastian finally starts to come back down, opening his eyes and smiling up at him, all blissed out and soft around the edges, the look in his eyes tells Chris that he’s loved right back.
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brien-odylan · 6 years ago
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L.I.E. (Love Is Easy)
Title: Falling in love (Part 1)
Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x Reader
Word count: 8.2k
A/N: OMG OMG OMG. I am screaming cause you all have no idea how long I’ve been thinking and writing this fic. I’m not sure how you all will fell about it, but I can honestly hope and pray that you like it. This is the first part two a three pieces series, staring our beloved Dylan O’Brien. lol It’s gonna involve some love triangle (don’t you love it?) and some angst...? Perhaps. 
Massive shout out to @disbestiles who, as always, had to deal with me freaking out about this story and the amazing @hope-stilinski for proofing. Love you girls so much!!!
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NOAH CENTINEO BREAKS THE INTERNET - AGAIN.
Actor commented on Y/N Y/L/N’s photo and made everyone go crazy for a couple of hours
That Noah Centineo is up and about giving us all a heart attack with his beautiful smile and amazing soul is the understatement of the year. The 22-year-old heartthrob took internet's breath away with his wholehearted performance of Peter Kavinsky - Peter K for the friends - in To All The Boys I've Loved Before and from then on he made sure to stay constantly in our minds - and hearts.
Centineo is known for being openly active on social media, with his fun stories on Instagram or thoughtful - as well as mysterious - tweets. However, fans had something to freak out about last weekend, as Sunday the actor liked and commented on a recent photo of model Y/N Y/L/N, to the despair of the fangirls.
Hundred of thousands of replies have been recorded and when asked about it, Centineo laughed it off. “She really is gorgeous. I’m not going to deny that.” (See video below)
Of course, there was nothing from the 26-year-old model, but there are theories going on about it on the internet, theories that have left this journalist open-mouthed. But would Y/N have been having anything with the sweetheart of the moment or is it just a long shot in the dark?
There hasn’t been anything about the two of them meeting in real life and while Noah Centineo is always out and about, the same can’t be said about the model, who likes to keep her privacy and is often seen with another hot-shot, Dylan O’Brien, although neither of them has confirmed any kind of relationship between them and both say they’re only friends.
Whether or not this was just Centineo being a normal guy and complimenting a girl, we can’t stop thinking about how cute of couple those two would make! We even managed to manip our new favorite ship! (See below)
Y/N stared at the screen of her phone a few more moments before cracking up. She couldn’t believe her life had led her to this moment, one she would be featured in teenager magazines and shipped with some new actor she had never met. Of course, she knew who he was, she had watched the movies and she had to admit that he was all that everyone was saying. But had she met him? No, of course not.
Her notifications on Instagram had been blowing up for the past 48 hours, making the girl mute the app and ignore all kind of messages she had been receiving. It was a good idea, no drama, no fans throwing insults at her (something that would happen, she was sure of it), no fans asking things she couldn’t answer, no gossip magazines mentioning her on Twitter… Nothing. It was just Y/N, the bed she had been on, Netflix and some good company. That is until she got a call from her best friend begging her to read that article.
Violet had been in her life for as long as she could remember, her best friend ever since they were little girls playing on the sandbox. They might have taken completely different paths in life, but they were always by each other’s side whenever it was needed. Y/N was willing to read the article because it was Violet who wrote it. She would trust her best friend with everything in her life, even gossips the media wanted to spread.
The fact that Violet had been chosen to write something about her life was completely amusing. Sometimes, she wondered if she had told her boss they were best friends and that was why, but the truth is that she knew, for a fact, that Violet had kept her mouth closed when it came to being friends with someone as famous as Y/N and it could only be the most ridiculous coincidence in the world. No one had ever suspected anything.
With a small smile, Y/N closed the e-mail her friend had sent her and shook her head. As always, Violet had written something so close to the truth without saying anything that she couldn’t believe the way her friend had with words. She had no other way than saying it was perfect and she wouldn’t change a thing.
From: Y/N To: Violet
You know, one of these days they’ll get suspicious as to how you know so much about my life.
From: Violet To: Y/N
I’ll just tell them I stan you. I’m an obsessive fangirl. But how is it?
From: Y/N To: Violet
You know it’s perfect. Now stop freaking out, cause I know you are!
From: Violet To: Y/N
This could very well be my ship!
From: Y/N To: Violet
You are aware that I’m almost 5 years older than him, right?
From: Violet To: Y/N
Oh, sweetie… What is age but a number?
Y/N couldn’t believe what she was reading. There were times she worried about Violet living for far too long in her teenage years with all the young celebrities she had to be in touch with for her job - and for her own pleasure too -. Of course age is just a number, but there was no way Y/N would ever be with Noah Centineo. She was perfectly fine the way she was, with who she was. Even if she didn’t have anyone, exactly, at the time.
Her life was great the way it was and adding drama to it, as the comments had made sure to confirm her worries, was nothing but a waste of time.
Violet sent her just a thumb up as a reply, something Y/N knew that meant she had posted the article and Y/N couldn’t wait to see what else would be said about her after that. With a devious smile on her face, the girl opened her Instagram for the first time that week and clicked on her most recent photo, the comment Noah had left being the first one. And then she clicked on the heart next to it without a second thought.
Instantly, her phone blew up with at least five messages from her best friend.
From: Violet To: Y/N
You bitch!
I can’t believe you just did that
I’m gonna fucking kill you, Y/L/N
Couldn’t you have done it before I posted it?
I hate you so much!
From: Y/N To: Violet
I just gave you another story to write. You should love me!
From: Violet To: Y/N
🖕
The laugh that erupted from Y/N was loud and genuine. She loved messing with her best friend to the point of making her professional life a living hell sometimes.
“What’s so funny?” a raspy voice called her out, her laughter slowly dying out as she stared ahead, the once empty room now giving sight to something she quite enjoyed.
There was a reason Y/N liked to keep her life private; There was a reason she found no trouble at all in setting all her apps on mute and that reason was standing right in front of her, his wet chocolate hair dripping into the floor and slowly tracing down his handsome face, leading down past his shoulders, glistening in the fluorescent light against his chest, one she had so many times run her hands over, the marks of her nails still painting in a soft red the pale skin, dying down on the white towel poorly secured around his waist.
Y/N followed all of it in complete silence, her eyes never daring to move from the man standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his caramel eyes focused on her shallow breaths, the way her chest seemed to rise and fall in the bra she was wearing, the only piece of clothing her upper body was sporting. Her eyes had turned into a darker shade, something he could see from where he was, something he enjoyed a little too much. Her long legs, hidden under the white thick duvet, squirmed under his intense stare, her insides churning in excitement as she watched his hungry eyes roam all over her.
Dylan had known Y/N for a good three years. They had been introduced in a party Shelley had thrown and hit it off immediately. At the time, both of them had completely different lives, both of them dated and there was nothing more than genuine friendship. They were both easy people to talk to, had pretty much the same interests and even though they had super busy schedules, it was always easy to talk through messages and phone calls.
It all started to change, though, when both of their relationships went down the drain and what once was an innocent friendship saw there the chance to change into something else. There was no name to what they had, they hadn’t talked about it. A whole year had gone without it being fully addressed, but it wasn’t just a friends with benefits thing and they both knew it. It was something else, something that, as much as they liked to deny, with deeper feelings involved. It wasn’t easy to simply hide it from everyone. They had to be cautious, they couldn’t let people out of their friends' circle get suspicious, they couldn’t let anyone notice how much they meant to each other.
It was easier that way, less dramatic, more personal, something they would only share with people they were comfortable with. And yet they weren’t anything official. There was something dreadful in being in a committed relationship when they had started whatever they had. The ghosts of their pasts still lingering over them, so it was only natural to take things as they came, to move around it and see where it was going to lead them. But maybe neither of them had thought it would last this long without coming to a real thing. They had grown used to how they worked and thought that there was nothing to be talked about.
“It’s just Violet,” she shrugged it off, her brain finally snapping out of her thoughts. There was something she would never be able to do when standing anywhere near that man, and it was stopping fantasizing about him. He was like her own kind of Greek god, the personification of a sacred deity thrown into this Earth to be of her delight. There could be a thousand lifetimes and there weren’t going to be one of them that she didn’t find him handsome, no matter what. He just caused that kind of feelings on her.
“Oh,” he muttered, his body leaning off the wood, his soft steps echoing through the floor as he made his way to the girl. “I thought we were supposed to pretend we were stranded in a deserted island,” he smirked, his eyes ravishing over her exposed chest, taking every inch of her skin in, his tongue darting out of his mouth to run over his smooth lips.
“You were taking a little too long on that shower,” Y/N murmured, her eyes wide open as she watched the man walking up to her, her hands twitching in excitement to run over his torso and add a few more scratch marks to it. The hunger in his eyes was like fuel to her, burning too bright and hot that she felt it in her core, her breath fanning over her his face, now too close to her and yet too far. He was towering over the girl, his body hovering hers, not touching an inch of it, much to her dismay. “I had to keep myself entertained,” she breathed out, her lips brushing against his in a feeble attempt of toying with him, baiting him in her mercy; he didn’t buy it. Dylan knew her way too well.
“I’m sure you could have thought of better ways to do it,” he mumbled, his hand slowly tracing the curve of her neck, intertwining in her hair softly, caressing her while still running his tongue over his lips, watching as she tried to keep her eyes on his, but failing to unfocus from his mouth. “I’m sure you could’ve just…” he started once again, his hand now retreating from the hair and sliding down her arms, softly and slowly, the touch leaving goosebumps in its wake as his breath fanned down on her, her eyes now shut in anticipation. “You could’ve just joined me.”
Dylan left no time for a reply, it was never his intention. Without a single second to spare, his lips crashed down on hers, roughly and hungry, their breaths mingling and panting, the only sound in the bedroom aside from the occasional smacks of their lips. Dylan’s hands couldn’t find a home, traveling from her arms to her waist, pulling her closer to him, feeling her chest flush against his, her warmth spreading through him as a safety blanket, her legs freeing from the confines of the duvet before closing around him at the same time his hands reached her back, his fingers carefully running down her spine, the touch so gentle she couldn’t help but moan at the feeling it caused, her back arching off the bed and into him, her mouth opening in the shape of an O.
Dylan took it as his advantage, sliding his tongue into her mouth in a wet kiss, the muscle exploring every corner of her mouth, massaging her own tongue before fighting for dominance over the kiss, which she surrendered to him. Y/N kissed him in abandonment as if leaving her whole life to him, giving him everything she had, everything she would ever have.
She clutched to his neck fiercer, her fingers slipping into his hair and pulling at the roots with wanton, desperately trying to draw a moan out of him, with success. He could never get enough of that woman and she knew exactly what to do to get him going, but if he was to ever make it to their appointment, he would have to put an end to it and soon. He could feel himself coming up with excuses to his friends as to why he didn’t show up to their party already.
Gasping out for air, Dylan broke their connection, his nose running along her cheeks to her shoulders, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her collarbone, his mind reminding him of not leaving any visible mark on her skin before, finally, sucking in the skin on her chest, right above her breast, a small gasp coming out of her throat, her eyes still closed as she bit her lips together in pleasure.
“You should get ready,” Dylan murmured against her skin, his lips still taunting her endlessly.
“Can’t we just… Skip it?” Her voice sounded so broken for having to leave at that exact moment. She just wanted to spend the rest of the evening lying on that bed at his mercy. The real world could suck sometimes.
“Again?” Dylan chuckled, his face now in front of hers. “Didn’t we just skip your friend’s party yesterday?”
“And look at how much more fun we had,” she bargained, her Y/E/C eyes dark in want as she stared at him. His beard always seemed to make him look a hundred times more attractive and although it hid the beautiful moles he had, she loved when he let it grow, the feeling of it against her face was amazing, the way it burned her thighs when he ate her out indescribable. Dylan O’Brien had the power of making her turn into putty by only being in the room and he knew it.
The actor smiled down at the girl, pressed a lingering kiss to her lips and pulled away before she could get too carried away.
“Go get ready, beautiful,” he laughed walking away.
“Tease!”
Contrary to his belief, they actually left home and just in time to miss the rush hour, something both of them were glad. It was one thing to be stuck in traffic when you didn’t have much to do, but when you had a party, even if a small gathering, the anxiety of being in the same place for too long would be too much.
Y/N sat in the passenger seat, enjoying the view of the city flashing past them as the car headed south, a low song playing on the radio, keeping the atmosphere in the vehicle serene and light. Golden specks of light entered through the windshield, the last rays of sunshine of the day illuminating their skin in a golden tone, Dylan’s eyes hidden by his black ray-ban focusing on the road ahead.
She took the time to admire it all, the way his hands held the steering-wheel expertly, sliding across it every now and then, the same hands she loved running around her body, the same hands she loved to just hold and have it clasped around hers. The sunlight kissed his skin almost adoringly, highlighting his cheekbones and adding a new color to the speck of tones she had seen his face turn into. Y/N knew that if Dylan were to take off his glasses at that moment, his eyes wouldn’t be the same caramel color they always were; they would have turned into a liquid amber-color like someone had melted gold and poured into his irises. It was mesmerizing and breathtaking, worth of losing herself into them. And she had, so many times it was beyond her comprehension, but she didn’t mind one bit.
Y/N reached her hands over the handbrake, her palm turned up in an obvious sign of telling Dylan something. His right hand let go of the steering-wheel, intertwining on hers without a second thought, his face turning to her side with a smile plastered on his lips, the devotion his eyes held hidden by the dark shades he had on. It was at times like these that the actor felt like he had everything he could have asked for. Everything felt right, even if it didn’t seem like it.
There was something about the way their hands seemed to fit effortlessly, how they always had been thinking the same thing before speaking it, how they seemed to be in the exact same place when it came to their lives. It was uncanny that they should be together. Everyone had said so, from his friends to his family, always bugging him about it, saying that he had to properly ask her to be his girlfriend. A girl like that wasn’t easy to find, that’s what his dad said whenever they visited. But it wasn’t so simple. They had been ‘together’ for so long that he just couldn’t see the right way or the right time to do it. They had fallen into a pattern that their relationship was real and official, even if unspoken, even if hidden from the world.  Saying something just felt like doubting everything they had ever had.
“Have I ever told you how much I like when you bring me to Hermosa?” Her voice disrupted his train of thought, bringing him back into reality and to the car, his hand still wrapped around hers as he drove down the road, the sun barely visible in the horizon. She had perked up in her seat, something Y/N always seemed to do when she wanted to share some kind of secret. It was endearing watching her whole self light up at the idea of telling someone something she deemed intimate.
“You do?” His eyes went back to hers, watching the excitement take over her features, her eyes brightening as she looked back at him in innocence, her head tilted to the side as if she couldn’t believe he was asking her that.
“Of course I do!” She hooted. “What’s not to like? The beautiful beach washing over the shore? The pier allowing me to walk over to the middle of the ocean? The nice almost-white sand under my feet?” Y/N proposed, her fingers snapping up as she listed everything she had said. “Not to mention the fact that everything seems so peaceful every time we’re there, almost like all this craziness hasn’t reached it.”
Dylan smiled. He understood everything she was saying and couldn’t help but agree. It seemed like they were in a safe environment every time they were there, the world could fall apart and yet they would remain one. It seemed strange that a place could hold such importance to them. It made sense to him, with his teenage years spent in Hermosa, his friends, his family. It was like going home every time he needed to go back, and the fact that Y/N felt the same way meant something to him. He didn’t know what yet, but it had something to do with the fact that his chest would feel warm sharing with her all the memories he had of the place, whenever he told her something that he had done on a specific street, or how many times he had walked down the pier and stared at the ocean for hours on end.
It didn’t mind what it was or how silly it seemed to anyone else. She would listen to him intently and appreciate the fact that he felt like he could share it with her, could trust on her with bits of him that weren’t on full display. And she loved it. She loved listening to him talking, she loved picturing his younger version doing all the things coming out of his mouth. Maybe that was why she loved that place so much.
As the days went by and things went back to their normal course, there was one thing that didn’t seem to change: the fact that Y/N and Dylan could now be seen together almost every day. It was no surprise to anyone, of course, as they have admitted they were friends, but what no one could ignore was that there was something different about them, some kind of unspoken feeling that didn’t seem so perceptible before.
They were always wearing smiles in public, despite how many people swarmed over them to take pictures, their bodies were closer to each other, their hands slightly touching and brushing against one another more often than not. To the whole world, it could mean nothing, but to teenage magazines and fangirls, it could be the information they all needed to start the rumors.
After what seemed to be a long and agonizing day, all Y/N wanted was to just cease all communication with the world and head home, get in the bathtub and and have a long and relaxing bubble bath as she tried to get her mind of all the things that had been told her that day, all the dates, names and meetings she had to memorize. And while there was nothing more than the feeling of having a good rest on her mind, there was one more thing she had to do, but it could never be considered a job for her.
The door to the small coffee shop was pushed open and in went a heavily dressed Violet, a gush of air following her as the journalist scanned the place in search for her best friend. Shrugging the coat out of her shoulders, Violet made her way one of the tables in the back, her eyes keeping contact with the girl sitting there as she sipped on her latte carefully, blowing some of the hotness away before she could put the cup to her lips again.
“I swear I’ll never get over this cold,” the girl said when she finally reached her friend, her coat now hanging in the back of the chair as she plopped herself down ungracefully, her feet kicking the table legs. “The main reason I came to California was to get rid of it.”
Y/N chuckled lightly, her hand pushing a cup of hot chocolate towards the brunette, her eyes rolling as she watched the journalist shake the gloves out of her hands and hug the warm cup as if all the warmth in her body depended on it. The temperature had dropped significantly that day, something no one was expecting in the late days of October, but by the way Violet was behaving, it almost felt like they were leaving in the new glacial era. Y/N knew her friend wasn’t keen on the cold and her core temperature must have been a little higher than most people, but she was being a little bit too much.
The model shook her head and sipped on her latte one more time, a smile never leaving her face as she watched her best friend straighten up her back and take a deep breath as she felt herself getting warmed up by the hot drink going down her throat.
“As much as I would love to spend the rest of my evening with you,” Y/N started, her fingers drumming against the plastic cup she had been holding. “I know this is not a friendly meeting, Let,” she smiled. “Your bosses want something, right?”
Let chocked on her drink, her eyes tearing up as she coughed and tried to regain the breath she had lost, her right hand hitting against her chest in a feeble attempt of getting better sooner. She knew Y/N would have guessed something of the sorts and she wasn’t wrong, but the fact that she had been so open about it like there was no other possibility for their meeting had caught her by surprise. Maybe Let wasn’t so smooth about it as she had thought.
“I know you, Let,” Y/N giggled, her hand reaching across the table and touching her friend’s arm in a reassuring way. “It’s not like I think you’re using our friendship, come on. I just know you had an ulterior reason to be here today. I don’t blame you.”
The journalist took a deep breath, a small apologetic smile on her face as she turned her head to her best friend. There was no point in lying to her, not after everything they had been through, not after all the years they had known each other. If there was anyone she could always come out and be honest, it was Y/N Y/L/N and she knew it.
Her job required her nagging and digging the dirty of the famous Hollywood people, mainly the ones that had their fanbase composed majority of teenagers and young adults. Unfortunately, it included Y/N and both girls knew what they were up to when they signed up for the lifestyle they had chosen.
“Ok, here’s the thing,” Let started, her body leaning over the table as if she was about to tell a secret, her voice dropping significantly low. “There have been some pictures of you and Dylan going around for the past few weeks and everyone is going nuts. You won’t believe how these people think your life is their business,” she rolled her eyes.
“I think I know how it is,” Y/N smirked, her cup raising as if in a toast.
“No, you don’t. It’s so much more than you can imagine,” Let shuddered. “Anyways, the fact is: they won’t stop until they figure it all out and while I’m here to, officially, get something out of you, I’m also here as your best friend to alert you there are some reporters that are trying to trick the both of you into admitting it. I don’t know how it’s gonna go, but it’s gonna happen.”
Y/N took a deep breath. She couldn’t understand why those people were so invested in her life, why they wanted to know so desperately whether she was dating Dylan or not. She didn’t have the answer to that question herself. It was a complicated thing that neither of them had addressed yet and while it seemed like things had escalated for the past few weeks, no one had said anything about it being official or not.
All the circus the media had been planning around her life certainly didn’t help it and the fact that Violet was there to tell her that meant that they were really interested in what’s happening. It wasn’t like they had anything else to do, right? Not like there were far worse problems in the world. What had happened to people being free to do whatever they wanted to without being judged? It had never applied to her or anyone else in the same position as her.
“I’ll tell them nothing’s going on, of course,” Violet said interrupting the girl’s thoughts. “I mean, I would never tell them anything you don’t want me to, Y/N/N, and you know that. I just had to come here and act as if I was doing my job so they wouldn’t get suspicious.”
Y/N nodded, her eyes still not focused on the girl in front of her. “It’s not like I would know what to tell you, Let,” she sighed.
The tone of defeat was evident in her voice, something Let had never seen before. Y/N had always been so bubbly and happy, taking things as they went and never thinking too much about it. That’s how she had ended up in that kind of relationship with Dylan in the first place.
Upon seeing her best friend so lost and her eyes still no focusing on her, Violet knew that there was something going through Y/N’s mind, something she hadn’t let out yet and it was consuming her.
“What happened?” The journalist pressed, her hand reaching for her best friend’s, squeezing it tightly in a soothing way of saying she could open up and tell her.
Y/N took a deep breath before looking at the girl she had known for almost all her life. There was something pressing on her chest, something she couldn’t quite tell what it was, something she felt changing in the past few weeks, but she couldn’t understand it.
“Y/N/N, I know something is up, so if you feel like you can’t tell me, to the hell with it. You know you can trust me. You know I’m here for you whatever it is.”
“I don’t know what it is,” she finally admitted, her eyes looking lost in thought as she shook her head. ��I don’t know, Let. I just feel like I’m completely lost in my emotions. It’s all over the place and there’s this agonizing pressure in my chest as if someone was trying to prevent the air from entering my lungs. And it’s all gone whenever I’m with Dylan, ok? It’s like I can breathe properly, like the day is so much brighter and the skies are suddenly blue. I smile a lot more, everything is beautiful. And I hate it. Oh God, how I hate it.”
There was a moment of silence before Violet looked at the girl, her eyes burning into the side of Y/N’s face, trying to keep her façade for a little bit longer, but it was impossible. That was when the laughs came out of the journalist, her mouth opening in a fit of giggles escaping from her throat.
Y/N looked at her in bewilderment. She had just told her everything that had been going on with her, all the weird stuff she had been feeling and that was how Violet would react? Laughing loudly at her while dozens of people stared at them? Some best friend she had gotten.
After what felt like an eternity, and several attempts of shushing the brunette down, she finally came out of her stupor, her eyes tearing up a little bit at the sides, her breathing erratic and her fingers a little shaky as she tried to wipe some of the tears that had managed to escape.
“Oh my God, Y/N/N, I love you to death, but damn, you’re so thick sometimes,” was the first thing to come out of her mouth as soon as she regained the ability to speak. The look of confusion the model gave her had her shaking her head one more time. “You like him!” She explained.
“Of course I do!” Y/N rolled her eyes. “I think we’re way past that now, Let.”
“No, no,” Violet interrupted her. “You don’t get it. Of course you like him, you’ve been friends for years. What I mean is... You like like him. You’re in love with him, Y/N, and it’s so obvious, so goddamned obvious and you don’t see it.”
Whatever it was that Y/N thought was happening to her, it wasn’t it. How could she have been so oblivious to the way she felt about Dylan? How could she reach the point in her life that she couldn’t recognize what she was feeling?
The realization of her new found emotions for Dylan was just too much. How could she fall in love with him? How could it have happened out of nowhere?
“Stop laughing!” Y/N screeched, her hands now covering her face as she shook her head non-stop. When had it happened? “It’s not funny.”
“Well, I think it’s hilarious,” Violet admitted, her hands folding in front of her chest as she watched the girl in front of her scan her brain for signs of it happening before. “I love the fact that you’re so deep into this guy that you didn’t even see yourself falling for him. Can’t blame you, though. He is gorgeous and super sexy. Not to mention the fact that he’s fun.”
“Violet! We’re having a serious conversation here. Can you please concentrate?”
“Ok, ok,” she took a deep breath. “I’m here for you now.”
“When the hell did it happen?”
That was the only thing that was on Y/N’s mind at that moment. She wasn’t going to spend her time trying to prove Let wrong, she wasn’t going to come up with excuses as to why she was acting that way. It was true. She had fallen for him without realizing it, she had let all her guards down the first minute she met him and it was only obvious that it had happened. But why now? Why after so much time? Why when she felt like she couldn’t say anything without ruining whatever they had?
“I don’t know,” Violet said. “You tell me. When did it happen?”
If Y/N were to be totally true to herself, she would say it had happened the moment she met him, the moment she walked into the party Shelley was having and saw him in the back of the room, his head thrown back, his eyes closed and his mouth open as he laughed at whatever his friends had told him. He looked so genuine and out of worries, his face scrunching up in the most adorable way whenever he smiled or laughed. His voice carried away and entered her ears and she thought she could hear him talking for days on end, not once growing tired of listening to him.
She wasn’t going to lie. That was one of the main reasons she walked up to him, her breath caught in the back of her throat, when he was in the kitchen pouring a ridiculous amount of vodka in his cup. She knew it was wrong, she knew she had a boyfriend and most likely she had a girlfriend either. There was no way such a guy was single. But they hit it off so innocently, bonding over small things they had in common and from then on, they could never stop talking to one another.
Maybe she always had second intentions, her subconscious already knowing they would get along so much and eventually fall in love, but it had forgotten to warn her. Everything seemed so natural and light-hearted when it came to Dylan that she never saw it coming and now that it had exploded right in front of her face, she didn’t know what to do.
“To be honest?” She whispered. “I think it was always there, but it only came to light a couple of weeks ago.”
The inquisitive look on Violet’s face was all it took for Y/N to sigh and shake her head. It was time to explain what had happened that day in Hermosa Beach...
The party had died down already when Y/N took a seat next to Dylan on the couch, his arm lazily draping around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him, a drunk smile on his face as he stared at her.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said in a low voice, his eyes piercing into hers as she stared right back at him, a small smile on her face as she took in his appearance. He seemed a little bit agitated on the car like his mind was running a million miles per hour and he couldn’t focus, but now, seeing him chatting with his friends, seeing him laugh, drink and relaxed, she felt like he was finally himself and all her worries had vanished. “I missed you,” he blurted out.
Y/N bit her lower lip, containing the smile that seemed to live in her face ever since they walked into the party. Everything had been different that night, with them being able to act as if no one was seeing them, all the lies and acts put aside.
Dylan’s friend had been nothing but nice to her, making her feel like she belonged, including her in evert conversation they were having, telling her stories of young Dylan that she didn’t know yet only to have him rolling her eyes at them and pulling her closer to him, whispering how he would kill them into her year, only to have her laugh at him and shake her head. It wasn’t like the public moments they had had, it felt like they were back in her apartment and no one could see them. She liked it.
“I was just in the kitchen,” she smiled, her left hand intertwining with the one of his that was hanging on her shoulder, their fingers knitting together expertly like they were supposed to stay that way.
“Well, it took you too long,” he whispered bringing his head closer to hers, their foreheads touching, noses bumping slightly. “You’re not leaving my sight again.”
The girl smiled at him, her lips coming dangerously close to his this time, a small breath escaping her before she connected their mouths in a small kiss, her lips unmoving over his, the smile still present.
“Is that a promise?” She breathed out.
But before Dylan could say anything, before he could let go of the cup he had been holding on his right hand, someone else beat him to it and clasped their hand on his, pulling him up the couch, a smirk on their face as they stared at the moment they interrupted.
“Come on, Dyl, you were picked to start it,” the guy said, his hand passing a microphone to a dazed and confused Dylan, his hands holding the object out of reflection.
The actor looked around trying to understand what was going on, the smile on Y/N’s lips widening as she saw what was about to happen.
“If any of you put Wannabe, I’ll love you forever,” the girl announced, the look of betrayal now evident on Dylan’s face as he looked at her shaking his head.
“If any of you do it, I’ll kill you,” he threatened, his voice slurring a little bit, not carrying any danger, and gave a pointed look at a giggling Y/N, telling her she would regret it later.
“Come on, Dylan,” one of the girls shouted from the back. “Do as your girl pleases. Woo her with your amazing vocals.”
Dylan rolled his eyes at all the remarks, his head shaking as he turned to the screen and typed the song he was looking for. There was no way he was going to give them the pleasure of singing what they wanted. Instead, before anyone could interrupt him, he turned to Y/N and winked, the first accords of the guitar ressonating through the sound system and instantly entering her brain, her eyes widening as she recognized just what song he had picked.
“That’s right,” he said in a smug way when everyone saw the look on the girl’s face. “I know exactly what my girlfriend likes.”
She heard it. She heard the word he had said and didn’t feel like correcting him. There was something about the way it rolled out of his tongue and entered her ears that felt perfectly normal, as if he was meant to direct that word to her, to call her that. And she liked it quite a lot and hoped to God that the fact that he was drunk didn’t mean anything, that he still wanted to address her like that when he was sober.
As soon as the first words to the song started, her attention went back to the music and the tall brunette standing in front of her, the lyrics rolling out of his tongue with expertise as he had listened to it countless times before singing it to her. Maybe it was true for the amount of times she had played it in the car when they were driving with no destination. Maybe he chose it because she liked it and it didn’t mean anything, but as soon as he looked into her eyes and sang her most favorite part, she prayed it wasn’t the case.
She wanted it to be real, she wanted him to tell her exactly what he was singing, she wanted him to fall in love with her. And there was a small possibility that he already was, but she couldn’t be certain without talking to him first. And that scared her a lot.
“So he sang Falling in love while his friends were there and you still don’t know if he feels the same way about you?” Violet blurted out, having been quiet for far too long after listening to the story Y/N had just told her.
“Well, it’s just a song,” the model defended herself.
“It’s just your favorite song from your favorite band, one that goes on and on about how a guy could fall in love with a certain girl and says that every day should be a new day to make her smile and find a new way of falling in love, Y/N! Are you really that oblivious or are you doing that to annoy me?”
Y/N looked at her friend for a few seconds before sighing, her head falling against the table as she thought about how stupid she had been in the first place. She couldn’t understand how she hadn't seen it all before, how she had  left it all slip through her fingers. Thankfully, not too late, but that was a wild guess.
“Ok, here’s what you’re gonna do.” Violet started. She wasn’t going to sit around and not say anything anymore. “You’re gonna go home and think about everything. Reevaluate this relationship of yours and come to a conclusion: do you want more? You don’t need to tell me, but you gotta stop playing tricks on yourself, Y/N/N. You love him and it’s pretty obvious he loves you too. Shouldn’t you all stop pretending there aren’t any deeper feelings and just admit it to yourselves?”
Everything Violet had said that day hadn’t left Y/N’s mind for a second.  All she had done ever since their conversation was think and think a little bit more about everything she had been living, trying to see if her feelings for Dylan were real or not and the conclusion she had gotten to was that they, indeed, were.
There wasn’t a single moment she didn’t wish they could be together, even if just sprawled on the couch and watching a movie. She didn’t care if he were too exhausted to do anything, she just wanted to be able to feel her presence around her, to feel his strong arms wrapping around her and cradling her into his chest. She wanted to hear the faint thud of his heart beating against his chest, feel his hands running through her back.
Y/N often found herself staring at Dylan’s face, admiring the small constellation of moles he had adorning his pale skin, the way his beard failed to grow in some spaces, the way his lips seemed to protrude a little bit, how his eyes would change colors depending on the light, going from a rich whiskey-color to a light amber.
But addressing her feelings, letting them be known was something completely different. She had admitted it to herself and that was a huge step, one that shouldn’t be taken so close to the end of the year, when everything seemed so much hectic.
When Y/N opened the front door of her close that December evening, she didn’t expect to be engulfed in the warm air that hit her face, or the smell of something she couldn’t quite detect in the oven, even less the candlelit lights that seemed to enlighten the apartment.
Delicately, she stepped into the living room, her eyes trying to adjust to the low glow of the fire coming from the candles scattered around the place, her purse thrown into the couch as she took her shoes off. She wasn’t worried about what could be happening at her own place, as she was certain it had something to do with the mop of brown hair running around her kitchen, his hands holding a pan carefully enough to not drop it. She didn’t know, however, what he had planned.
Her steps, light enough to not be heard, led her to the kitchen, stopping right under the threshold, her shoulder leaning against it as she watched the man maneuver his way around, always securing everything with his two hands before letting it go silently on her counter.
The smell coming from the oven was delicious, her mouth salivating at the thought of the homemade meal she was about to get that night. It was nice watching him feeling so comfortable around her kitchen, knowing exactly where everything was and where he should reach as if he was part of the house.
Y/N had come to the conclusion that she could keep looking at him for days and never get tired of it. There was something about him that made her entice, under his spell and it was very much likely because she was in love with him. There was no denying.
Dylan had already noticed her standing there, her eyes glued to his figure as he tried his best to not spill anything on her white tiles. He liked the attention he was getting, her gaze on him causing a warm sensation to spread across his chest.
Setting the final pan aside, Dylan turned to the girl and smiled, his arms crossed in front of him as he waited for her to snap out of her daze, a smirk playing on his lips when she shook her head at him.
“Don’t say a word,” she warned, her index finger pointed at him as she made her way to where he was.
“I wasn’t planning to,” he said back, pushing the girl against his chest and closing his arms around her, kissing her plump lips before any of them could do anything else.
Y/N didn’t know if it was because of her feelings, but there was something else in this kiss. It was simple and short-lived, but she could feel he was trying to say something, with the way his lips lingered a little bit longer on hers and his hands grasped her sides tightly.
“Hi,” he said when he pulled back, their faces still close enough so he could feel her breath fanning against this skin.
“Hi,” she smiled, her arms circling around his neck, her fingers playing with the small hairs he had in a soothing way, his eyes shutting close at the feeling. “Didn’t know we had planned something.”
“We didn’t,” he shrugged, his eyes boring into hers, his tongue darting out of his lips and running over it. “Just thought it would be nice since you’re leaving tomorrow and won’t be back until after the holidays.”
A wider smile spread on her face at that moment. All the doubts she thought she could have had suddenly disappeared and there was only Dylan now. The rain clouds had dissipated.
“And that’s when you leave sir, so tell me… How is that fair that I can’t retribute the favor?”
“Who said you couldn’t?”
And it was seeing him there, standing in the middle of her kitchen with his arms around her, his eyes piercing right into her soul, that she knew she had to tell him everything. She knew that it was never one-sided.
To be continued…
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