#not at the desk currently! ✦ queueing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonchildstyles · 1 year ago

Text

hyssop

rosemary part two: y/n made harry want to try, even if he didn't always believe he deserved the chance

wordcount: 11.5k+

—————

The spring-inspired logo of The Flour Pot gleamed in the Sunday morning sunshine, the front window crystal clear and streak free. With this week's trip being later in the morning after Harry managed to sleep some, the bakery wasn't quite as busy as he'd seen it in the past. He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

While many of those initial anxieties he'd felt that first time he dared even stepping onto the sidewalk had melted away like butter in a croissant, there was still a part of him that braced himself when approaching those front doors. The butterflies were an enemy he had control over currently, but they always got bold whenever he was too close to (Y/N). He still kept his hands clenched in his pockets.

Peering through the glass doors, he saw only a pair of patrons sitting at one of the tables, a set of pastries between them with only one fork to share. Both of the women looked content sharing those bites. Slipping inside, the bakery lacked the kind of noise he'd begun to associate with the space. The queue to the front register was only two people long.

But, (Y/N) wasn't there.

The same dark-haired girl he'd seen the last time he traveled through was there along with the boy darting through the pastry case, but there was no bouncing bow or arms laden with heaps of bread. There was a part of him that deflated at that. He knew it was a bit later in the morning than his previous visits, but he figured that she'd still be here. He was only a couple of hours late.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Harry felt extremely out of place in the shop. Without (Y/N) there, there wasn't much of a reason for him to be there—even if the pastries were delicious. Toeing at the ground, he wanted to inch towards the exit, leave before anyone could really notice, but it wasn't busy enough to make an exit without feeling eyes on him.

Before he had a chance to make any plan, dark brown eyes of the attendant behind the register landed on him. She brightened at the sight, flicking her attention back and forth between him and the customer she was helping at the desk. She recognized him.

Just as the next client stepped up to order, the other waiting off to the side for their order, Harry saw her ask for a moment. She told the customer that she would be right with him, she just needed to take care of something super quick.

With that, her long ponytail brushing her back, she disappeared through the cafe doors. True to her word, she was back in a moment, a smile shot in Harry's direction. She was right back to helping her client, apologizing for the delay.

It was a beat later that (Y/N) emerged.

Her cheeks were stretched into a smile, and eyes bright as she spotted him almost immediately. Her plastic gloves were quickly stripped from her hands as she approached him, her hair lacking a bow in favor of a sparkling clip.

"Harry!" she beamed, looping around the counter to meet him where he stood in the middle of the shop.

Harry swallowed down the smile that wanted to take over his features. No one had been excited to see him in years.

"Hi, (Y/N)." His heart skipped a beat when her smile grew that much larger at his greeting.

He followed her lead as she stepped off to the side, out of the way of anyone should the line grow and other patrons enter. She stood with her hip popped, discarded gloves bunched between her hands. "Did you just get off work?"

Shaking his head, he allowed his gaze to take a trip down her form. Flour spotted her top, soft leggings conforming to the shape of her legs and well-worn shoes on her feet. "No, I went home and slept a little before coming in."

(He slept for a little over an hour, but that was better than nothing).

"When did you get off?" she asked, shifting her weight on her feet.

Pulling one of his hands from his pocket, he brushed the tip of his nose with his knuckle. "I usually get off around four or six depending on what time 'm schedule to go in."

"In the morning?" she blanched, stretching her neck with a furrow in her brow.

Harry hummed a confirmation.

"Oh," she sounded, her eyes wide, "I knew you worked late shifts, but I guess I never thought you worked all night. I don't know how you do it; I hate getting up before the sun is up, I don't think I could work like that."

Shrugging, Harry brought his hand up and repeated the brush against his nose to conceal his mouth. The tiniest of curls touched the corner of his mouth, the closest thing to a smile he'd given to another in a long while. The bubbliest non-morning person he'd ever met, he thought.

"Y'get used to it."

"Well, I'm happy you could come in today because I have some stuff for you." Her voice was something like a song, lilting around her words as she rocked on her heels.

Harry wasn't sure if it was his lungs or his heart that squeezed at the sound of that. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, "Go sit down and I'll go get everything. I'll take my break right now too so we can talk a little."

Before he could say much else, she was scooting back to the kitchen, her bound back hair being the last thing he saw before the cafe doors closed behind her. From the corner of his eye, he saw the dark-haired cashier glance at him, a short smile on her lips as she continued to wipe down the counters.

Harry took a spot towards the back, a few places away behind the couple who paid no other patrons any mind. His restless hands did what they do best as he began to pick at his cuticles, the beds still raw from the last time he plucked at the frayed skin.

By the time (Y/N) was strolling out of the kitchen, the waiting patrons had exited, leaving only he and the other couple filling the lobby. The dark-haired girl behind the desk had huddled into the corner shielded by the pastry case, her phone in her hands as she took advantage of the lull in clientele. (Y/N) had a ramekin with a puffy pastry she was carefully holding in one hand while the other had a plain, square Tupperware case.

She hopped on the high stool in front of him, that table bracing her weight as she carefully shifted with her gifts. With the duo laid out in front of him, a spoon balanced on the top of the Tupperware, she gave him a giddy smile.

"I know it's closer to lunch than breakfast at this point, but I did make you one of those soufflés I was telling you about." As she spoke, she pushed the ramekin towards him, the lightweight top of the soufflé puffed and golden brown. "I also made focaccia last night, and saved you a square if you wanted to try."

"Focaccia?" he posed, grabbing the spoon from her outstretched hand.

"It's a kind of bread," she laughed, the sound light and airy, "You can make it a whole bunch of different ways, but last night I made it with black pepper, basil, and a little bit of parmesan. Have you ever tried it?"

"Maybe?" he shrugged. (There was a period of time back when his sister was distracted with her boyfriend a lot, that his mother didn't know what to do with herself and decided to try her hand at bread making. He could never and would never tell her, but she wasn't very good, so there was a high chance that he'd tried a version of whatever bread (Y/N) was talking about, just a very bad version that he didn't give more than a nibble to).

"Try the soufflé first while it's still warm from the oven, and then I'll show you the bread," (Y/N) decided.

While there was something a bit awkward knowing that (Y/N) was going to watch him eat and wait for a reaction to something she made with him in mind, there was no universe in which Harry was going to say no to homemade food. After being accustomed to frozen meals and canned foods, things like this with real flavor were things Harry cherished more than what was probably normal.

He kept his eyes on his hands as he poked the spoon through the eggy top layer of the treat, strings of cheese clinging to the utensil as he scooped out a bite. A plume of fragrant steam lifted through the air, holding notes of rosemary and thyme with the bite of a salty cheese. Popping it in his mouth, Harry felt that pressure to give her a good reaction disappearing. He wouldn't have to make anything up when he swallowed it down, the praise was going to come naturally.

The bite was custardy and warm, while being entirely light and airy. Hints of the different cheeses were sprinkled throughout, still warm and melty from the steam that had collected in the middle of the pastry. Ribbons of spinach added a bitter bite that cut through the cheese and egg, adding to the fresh herbs that were sprinkled across the top of (Y/N)'s creation. It was perfect—better than the scone even, but Harry had a feeling that anything he ate of her's, he would decide it was better than the last.

As much as he wanted to tell her how well she did, he couldn't wait that long to take another bite. Maybe he was a bit frantic, eager to try another shoveled bite, but the only reason Harry figured as much was because of the huffed laugh that (Y/N) let out. He could still feel her eyes on him, though now he only felt the warmth, not the weight.

"(Y/N)," he started after finally pulling the spoon away from the treat, "This is... I didn't think y'could make anything better than the scone, but this is amazing. Really." He hoped she understood how much he meant what he was saying, even if he held onto his stoic mask.

The booming smile that took over her features had something close to pride sitting in the back of Harry's chest. He liked knowing that he could put a smile like that on her face, even if there was a valid argument he could make stating he didn't deserve it.

"I'm so happy you like it!" Her voice bubbled bright and giddy as she spoke. "They're one of my favorite things to make, even if they're a little hard to deal with sometimes. If you ever want one and it's not Friday, just let me know before you come in and I can put one aside for you."

Having been unable to stop himself from taking another bite, Harry had to rush to swallow it down by the time she stopped speaking. He nodded to her, taking down the eggy, cheesy, salty bite in a heady swallow. "Thank you," he told her again, "That's really nice, (Y/N)."

He didn't know how, but her bright smile seemed to grow wider as she watched him take another heaping bite. Her cheek was smushed against the palm of her hand she had splayed over the side of her face, her elbow propped onto the table.

"You don't have to finish it if you don't want, though. I know it's pretty heavy, and we still have the bread I wanted to share with you," she said, though she didn't make any attempt to stop him when he shook his head.

"I'll finish it," he told her bluntly, a little too invested in the soufflé to care about the huffed laugh she let out at his reaction. A beat passed while she tried to hide how happy she was to see him scarf down her food before Harry began to savor the bites once he made it to the bottom of the cup. "How much do I owe you?" he asked, having almost forgot about the price of the treat.

A knit pinched her brows together though her eyes remained bright. "What do you mean?"

"For this." His own expression mimicked hers with his brows drawing together in the middle.

"Oh," she sounded, the word coming out on a breath, "Don't worry about it. I got it covered."

That had him pausing on the last couple of bites left of the soufflé. "No. How much do I owe you?"

Something stubborn had her eyes hardened when she looked at him across the small table. "You're not paying for this, Harry. It was a gift from me, don't worry."

"'M not taking free food from you, (Y/N). That's not fair after all the work y'did and everything," he argued.

"You are," she countered, a surprisingly firm edge to her voice, "I don't care. I wanted to do this for you, so I think it's perfectly fair. Now finish it so we can have some of the bread before I have to get back to work."

"(Y/N)..."

She didn't let him get very far before he was cut off, "Harry."

As much as he knew she was trying to tell him that he would be in trouble with her if he pushed the issue further, he liked seeing her get a little stern. It was cute seeing her go from the chirping, bubbly tone she used almost exclusively to putting her foot down over something so trivial. He thought she looked rather pretty like this.

He decided, looking at her trying to be stern in her Flour Pot uniform and shimmering nails, that he'd make it up to her somehow, this free breakfast.

Looking all too smug when he didn't argue back, (Y/N) brightened up when she saw him take the last bite.

"Thank you again, (Y/N)," he told her, wiping his face with one of the napkins in the holder on the table.

"Of course, Harry," she beamed at him, practically bouncing in her spot, "I'm just happy you liked it. I was getting nervous because I think I talked it up a little, so I didn't want to disappoint you."

He wanted to tell her that he was almost completely sure that there wasn't any way she could disappoint him. He kept his mouth shut.

She pushed the Tupperware towards him, the lip of the lid grasped between her fingers. "Do you think you still have room to try?"

Peeling back the lid, a square of dimpled bread was revealed to him. Basil leaves were pressed into the surface of the bread, crisped and preserved under a layer of crusty cheese. Flakes of black pepper could be seen throughout the dough and sprinkled over the top. The bread perfumed the air with spicy black pepper notes and the warmth of the cheese and basil. A small section of the container was cupped off, holding a creamy dip, tinted a golden yellow.

"I definitely have some room," he decided, his eyes growing to the size of his stomach with all the food being offered to him.

Fresh bread and a warm breakfast all in one day. She was spoiling him.

"Is it okay if I have a little with you? I made sure there would be enough for the both of us if you're okay with sharing."

"'S your food, 'course I don't mind," he told her, his lips turning into a frown. She was sharing with him, not the other way around.

Harry waited for her to take her first bite, fingers plucking off a corner with a basil leaf imprinted into the top. The bread was light and airy when he took his turn, chewy and soft when he pinched it between his fingers. He watched as she dipped into the condiment she had told him was a garlic aioli. One of her favorites; both to make and eat.

Just as he went to take his first dip into the sauce, (Y/N) had the same idea. Their fingers bumped, (Y/N) pulling back immediately with a soft sound exiting her lips. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until his lungs began to ache.

"Sorry," he said first, jerking his chin, "You first."

(Y/N) hesitated for only a second, her eyes on him before she blinked in a flutter of long lashes. "Thanks," she chirped out, recovering as she dipped her next bite into the aioli.

When it was Harry's turn, he almost felt bad to be eating so much of her food when it should be celebrated from the rooftops for everyone to see and try. The crust on top was warm and crunchy, salty with the help of the parmesan she had spread across, while the middle was light and chewy. A bite was given to each taste with the help of the black pepper.

In an unsurprising turn of events, Harry wanted to say this was his favorite thing she'd ever made before.

"This might be my favorite," Harry settled on, waiting his turn before he plucked off another bite, the warm oil drizzled atop the bread shimmering on his fingers. "I know I keep saying it, but this is really amazing (Y/N). It's been a really long time since I've had anything like this, but you're really amazing at this."

He knew he was rambling, a habit he wasn't familiar with as his tongue fumbled around the words before he had a chance to stop them. He only managed to quit when he shoved another bite of the focaccia into his mouth, the bread all but melting over his tongue.

Her smile was ever-present as she spoke, "Thank you. I haven't been making bread like this for very long, on my own at home and all. I'm not super great at it yet, but it's been really fun and I think I'm getting better. It's more fun than the baguettes and sourdoughs I make here, I think. I get to make it however I want."

"You're very talented, (Y/N)." The compliment felt lame falling from his lips but it was the best he could do before he started going off again, possibly telling her how amazing she was once more.

She chirped her gratitude out, all but glowing under his praise. He liked knowing he could make her feel like that, give her the sunshine look that warmed her features.

The bread between them slowly dwindled to small chunks the longer they sat across from one another. (Y/N) told him more about the bakery and the people she worked with, what she liked making at home and what she preferred to keep at work. She didn't make him talk for more than a few hums here and there, allowing him to soak in her presence and settle into her without worrying about what he could share with her and what would be better to keep to himself.

The longer they sat, more and more patrons flitted into the shop. It started as a trickle, the groups small enough to be attended to before another would step up. The line didn't reach longer than a pair of people. Until the lunch rush came in.

(Y/N) cut herself off when a large group made their way in. Her eyes scanned the growing line and the pastry case that was getting picked through with every person that placed their order.

"I should probably get back to work. I definitely took longer than fifteen minutes with you," she said, looking more than a little reluctant to hop off her stool, "But you can stay as long as you want, eat however much you want." Just as she turned on her heel, a goodbye on her lips and wave on her fingers, he saw her stop in her tracks, turning back to face him. "Thank you for coming in, by the way. My days are always a little nicer when I get to see you."

Harry's hand clenched around the napkin he had been using to wipe his fingers and clean his face, the paper crumbling in his grip. His throat was dry, tongue too big for his mouth as he took in what she saw. How was he supposed to respond to something like that, when he almost wondered if he knew any words at all? Those butterflies were sabotaging him.

Even with Harry's lack of response, (Y/N) didn't look perturbed at all. She gave him that glowing smile once more—bright but only for him. "I'll see you later?"

"Y-Yeah," he stuttered out, a disjointed nod accompanying the word.

That was all she needed to hear before she was turning back to the kitchen. She waved at him, tossing that smile over her shoulder. "Bye, Harry."

"Bye, (Y/N)."

By the time Harry felt as though he needed to leave, he felt relaxed enough he could sleep some of the day away. He doubted a nightmare could enter his brain after a moment like this—the vision of (Y/N) in his brain, scented with soft bread and pastries made with only him in mind.

—————

It was a habit now for Harry to park in the same spot by the bakery every time he went into town. Even if he had no intention of sneaking inside and getting a glimpse of a fluttering bow and a whiff of rosemary, he always took his place across the street from The Flour Pot. The fresh air and the extra steps were good for him, anyway.

Getting out of his car, library books at his side, he couldn't help but to glance at the building. He cast a lingering look through the glass, eyes scanning through the pane in hopes of seeing a familiar face. It was an old instinct coming to the surface after so long of burying it underneath his hopes of a different life; he used to do the same, checking on his mother and sister to ensure they were safe and none of his mistakes had found them. The same habit was beginning to form for (Y/N).

Through the window pane, he saw her standing behind the pastry case, her profile to him as she spoke to the dark-haired girl he now knew to be her friend Sabrina. (Y/N) gesticulated as she talked, hands held out with her fingers spread out, emphasizing whatever story she was telling that had Sabrina holding back her laugh behind her own hand.

Harry had to drop his gaze, stitching his gaze to his feet as he walked to keep the smile from creeping onto his features.

Heading towards the library, Harry created a rhythm as he counted the cracks in the sidewalk with loose pieces of pavement kicking up with every step. It was on the sixteenth crack that he heard his name being called out behind him.

He knew that voice.

The plastic covering on his library book crackled when he tightened his grip on the spine. Looking over his shoulder, there was that smiling face framed by those stray strands of hair that escaped her ribboned bun. She beamed at him where she stood across the intersection from him, the dark pavement separating them.

"Wait up!" she called, looking both ways before scampering over the painted crosswalk to meet him. She slowed to a stop in front of him, the straps of her bag sliding off her shoulder. "Hi," she chirped out.

"Hi," he answered, his voice sounding decidedly less excitable than her own even if his chest was thumping,

"How are you?" she asked, "Today's your day off, right?"

"Yeah," he mumbled out, nodding his head, "I jus' woke up, so 's going alright so far."

"Long night last night?" she continued, getting comfortable in the conversation even if it was nothing more than small talk.

Harry recalled the twitch that had started in his eye now that Theo and the others had started trying to chat with him during the overnight shifts since Harry had accidentally opened the floodgates with his questions about (Y/N). "A little bit," he settled on, holding back a sigh, "But 's alright. How about you?"

Casting her gaze behind her to the bakery she'd just run out of, she only shrugged before looking back at him. "I don't like doing mids so they're always long, but I'm done for the day at least," she smiled at him, glancing at the book at his side, "Are you going to the library?"

Shifting his weight on his feet, Harry felt a little more exposed than he felt comfortable with. He always felt much more at ease when (Y/N) spoke of herself or he was able center questions around her.

Swallowing, Harry nodded.

(Y/N) perked up at his answer, almost bouncing in her spot. "I didn't know you went to the library and everything," she started, "I just finished at the bakery for the day, would it be alright if I tagged along?"

Another invitation, but one that he was to extend to her.

It felt personal in an odd way to invite her to accompany him, to see him pick out different novels and how he interacted with people that aren't her. The universe around them seemed to only extend to The Flour Pot and the grocery store—the only places where he was allowed to exist around her.

But, if this was their universe, then she was the center star. She beamed up at him, the kind of sun a creature like him would warm himself under, trailing pathetically behind. How he is supposed to say no to that?

"Sure," he mumbled out, "A-Are y'sure y'don't want to go home?" If it were him, after a long shift, he wouldn't even entertain the idea of doing anything other than heading home right away.

"I have too much energy to go home," she bubbled, inching closer to him to match his route to the library, "I had coffee this morning, so I'm all over the place. I'm worried about what I would do to my living room if I go home right now; I'd probably rearrange everything and decide to redecorate with money I don't have."

Dropping his gaze to his feet, Harry hid the twitch that tugged at the corner of his lips.

He fell into step beside her, slowing his paces as they trekked down the sidewalk to the library on the corner. She tugged on the strap of her bag, the lengths seemingly constantly falling from her shoulder.

"When did you get home last night?" (Y/N) asked, her voice floating over the sound of the cracked concrete under their feet.

Harry shrugged, shifting his books into the opposite hand leaving the one closest to her swinging at his side. "I stayed a little late and made it home by four."

(Y/N) shook her head, fixing the strap of her bag once more. "I'm starting to think you're a vampire, Harry," she chided, "I don't know how you do it. I like to stay up late and everything too, but I only like the nighttime because I have nothing I need to do."

"You get used to it," he told her. Harry could feel his features softening at her bubbly remarks.

"Sure," she said, lilting her voice into a tease, "Anyway, what are we looking for at the library today?"

Bringing his hand up to brush a knuckle under the tip of his nose, Harry felt that exposure again. "Jus' returning these, and probably check out a few more."

"What are your favorite kinds of books?" (Y/N) bounced in her steps beside him, glancing up at him with that sunshine face. "I didn't know you liked to read so much."

Just as Harry brought in a heavy breath through his nose, the steps to the library doors were in front of them. The proverbial bell that save him, he decided. Instead of giving her any kind of answers he was able to grab the stainless steel door handle and pull it open. "After you," he murmured to (Y/N).

The laugh that fell from her lips was enough to keep his chest from constricting so tightly. He hadn't even meant to make her laugh, but he'd take it whenever she was willing to give it.

(Y/N) waited just inside for him, only stepping towards the front desk when Harry was beside her. Ms. Klarke looked at them over the green frames of her glasses, brows rising with her eyes widening for only a moment before she fell back into that same pleasant expression she always greeted Harry with.

"Hello, Mr. Styles," she started, something in her eyes flashing before she moved onto his companion, "and Ms. (Y/N)."

"Hi, Ms. Klarke," (Y/N) chirped.

Harry felt out of place for a moment, listening to them speak to each other with the kind of familiarity he hadn't been invited into for years now. He only offered a small wave to the librarian in greeting, "Hi."

"How can I help you two today?"

(Y/N) looked to him immediately. Harry's hand started sweating around the plastic covering of his borrowed book. "Jus' here to return these and get something new," he mumbled once he reached the wooden desk.

"Already?" Ms. Klarke asked, "I'm going to run out of books for you soon, if you keep this up." She swiped his books off the counter, tapping away at her computer before swiping them under the scanner. "Lucky for you, though," she continued, "I did get some new ones I put out yesterday on your shelves if you wanted to look there first."

"Thank you," Harry said, feeling shy now that he had someone at his side. He hadn't had anyone there to run errands with in years.

"By the way," (Y/N) piped up, her eyes on the librarian, "We're bringing back some of those special croissants at the bakery, Ms. Klarke. This Sunday we'll have some of the currant ones and the fig sandwich ones, if you want to come by."

Ms. Klarke's expression brightened like Harry had never seen before, a hand landing on her hip as she looked at (Y/N). "Thank you, dear! That's so exciting, thank you for letting me know."

"Of course," (Y/N) beamed, offering up extra information to Ms. Klarke while Harry kept his eyes on the grains of the wooden desk.

He felt like a potted plant, standing in the middle of the interaction. At least this was saving him time before (Y/N) would follow him into the shelves and watch as he picked out new books to try.

Soon enough, the conversation ended with Ms. Klarke prompting them to look around, (Y/N) looked to Harry to lead the way.

"Where to first?" Her gaze dropped down the opposing wings of the library, each end marked with flags showing off different genres.

The shelves were packed with books, some visibly old with cracked spines and barcodes that had been replaced more than once, while others were vibrantly bright with fresh packaging. Spaces were left here and there for new arrivals to make a home, but it seemed like a place like this wouldn't ever run out of space no matter how many volumes were shoved into the empty spaces.

"This way," he said, shoving his now empty hand into his pocket.

Harry trailed through the shelves, not even bothering to look up at the markers as he went. He knew where he was going, even if he took slow steps as if contemplating where to go next.

The mystery section was the last one to amble through before reaching Harry's destination. The dark spines with words like murder and cold case. He didn't bother to look too close at the editions. Mystery wasn't a genre he enjoyed anymore, not since many of the subjects became the things he was trying to run from not escape into.

Bypassing the space, Harry led them to the shelves just an aisle over. The romance section.

Among the stacks were the stereotypical shirtless covers with overtly sexual titles, the kind of books that would have been on the roster of a women's wine and book club. Interspersed through were the bright covers Harry was more familiar with, blocky titles with drawn covers and bestselling authors.

He could hear (Y/N)'s footsteps behind him, following him into the section he took his time getting to. The pat of her feet stopped just beside him.

"You like romance books?"

Swallowing, Harry feigned an attempt to get a closer look at a book as he crouched down. He didn't want to see her face if she had any other thoughts about his selection. "It's easy to read," he told her, eyeing a volume with gold lettering over a dark blue cover, constellations decorating the binding, "Happy endings and all that."

"That's why I like them, too," she said after a beat, her voice soft to match the ambiance of the library, "There's always so much going on, it's nice to read something happy and soft instead of focusing on all the bad."

An invisible pressure that had been pressing on his chest waned at her words. While there wasn't much opportunity to share his preferred book genre with others, Harry hadn't ever wanted to. He always figured it was a little embarrassing to admit to reading kissing books. Of course (Y/N) wouldn't have any kind of problem with it, though. He should have figured.

The static of her presence shifted as she began her own perusal of the shelves. A beat of silence settled between the two of them, only the whisper of another patron heard down the aisle.

Swallowing, Harry felt his heartbeat in his chest. "I also like to read fantasy stuff sometimes," he told her, feeling all too nervous to be sharing something so trivial about himself.

Her response came in the form of a small hum, "Really? What kind do you like?"

Distracting his restless hands, Harry plucked the blue book from the shelf, the plastic covering crackling under his fingers. "Kind of like Dracula and those kinds of things," he mumbled, pretending as if he didn't feel her eyes on him, "They're hard to read sometimes, jus' because the language is hard to understand, but I think they're pretty interesting."

"I don't know if I could read any of those monster books, honestly," she said, huffing out a laugh, "I think I would give myself nightmares if I read them after dark, but they do sound really interesting. I want to know if it's still as scary now as it was back then."

The thought of (Y/N), perky and bright as she was, sitting down with a book like Dracula or one of the other great gothic horrors, had Harry almost breaking into a smile while looking at the book in his hand. He'd be interested to see her reaction to something that dark.

A process Harry was far too familiar with started then: the seemingly endless browsing of library shelves. Even after picking out the trio of books that would keep him busy for the week, he didn't find any kind of rush to head out immediately after. (Y/N) meandered with him, finding her own interesting reads before restocking them on the shelf. Harry could hear her mumbling something about needing to get a library card.

"So this is what you do on your days off?" she asked once they reconvened around a shelf of autobiographies.

Nodding, Harry had his eyes forward as he spoke. "Usually. I visit you, the library, and sleep. Nothing exciting."

"That sounds so nice, though," she all but melted, "I feel like I'm so busy all the time, even when I'm not at work. I know I'm lucky to be doing a hobby of mine for work, but it does take out some of the fun of baking for myself, you know? And it used to be a kind of stress reliever, but now it just feels like I'm doing my work again."

"I'm sorry," he told her, brows knitting in the middle at the explanation. He'd never really thought about it like that, if he was being honest. He always figured that if you're doing something you love, you never work—or whatever it was that quote said. "I've never thought about it like that."

"I didn't either before I started," she shared, "But, it's okay, really. I still enjoy baking and my job is easy because of that, I just don't have the urge to bake in my free time like I used to."

"As long as you're happy," he murmured. He felt as though it was a secret he was sharing with her between the stacks, that he thought at all about her happiness.

Her finger paused on the spine of the book she was tracing over, a falter in her route. Looking up at her, he saw the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Do you bake or cook or anything like that?" she asked once she seemingly recovered, her attention now placed on the autobiography of an eighties songwriter.

Taking in a deep breath, he kept himself from drawing his gaze over her profile. His attention was forcefully placed on what looked like a memoir of a philosopher. "Not really. Baking is too scientific for me; all the measuring makes me feel like I'll mess it up," he offered, "And, I don't really cook anymore."

"Anymore?"

It was an innocent question. The wording he used was something anyone would pick up on, so he wasn't sure why he felt nervous knowing that she picked up on it. He swallowed, throat bobbing around the building words.

"Yeah, I don't cook much anymore but when I lived with my—um—my mum we used to cook together a lot." Though it was little more than a sentence, this was the most he'd talked about his past to anyone in over a handful of years. He just hoped she didn't ask about his mom.

"That's really sweet," she said, looking up from where she was reading the back description of one of her books, "What did you like to cook?"

Relief touched his chest at the new subject matter. It didn't matter how long it's been since he and his family had to scatter themselves around, it was still hard to speak on them when he never got to process the grief over losing them. This was easier, speaking about her indirectly, even if he could still feel that well of emotion growing heavier in his stomach.

"We liked to make this soup together a lot; it had rice and chicken sometimes and other little things. I think I was too young to really pay attention to what she was putting in before she had me doing something else. It was that and a lot of grilled cheeses, and Sunday dinners, and just... things she knew I liked."

Harry felt himself shutting down when he started uncovering more and more memories in the kitchen with his mother. Those moments were what they had left up until things changed, her always having him help even when he was old enough to do more than wash the produce and stir the pot. His defense mechanism of shutting down kicked in, shutting him out of his own memories and own recollection of those days.

"That's really cute," (Y/N) murmured, looking at him with something in her eyes that looked entirely too soft to be directed at him. Her gaze lingered before it dropped back to the book in her hands. "I've always been okay at cooking, but before I started at the bakery, I used to make cupcakes all the time."

Cupcakes. That was much easier to focus on. He almost wanted to thank her for changing the subject.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," she hummed, sliding the book back into place on the shelf, "I used to try all kinds of weird flavors with different frostings and little designs in all different colors. It was so fun, but now the idea of doing something like that after I get home from work makes my hands hurt before I've even started."

A furrow pinched at Harry's brows. That same instinct he had that urged him to check on her earlier piped up once again. "Do your hands hurt a lot from work?"

"Sometimes," she shrugged, facing him with the tendrils of her bow fluttering behind her, "If I'm working on the bread case that day, then yeah. All of the yeast stuff that needs me to really work with it and everything, that hurts my hands the worst, but it usually depends on the prep."

It was the way her face dropped when she said the word prep and how quickly she pulled out her phone afterwards that had that concerned instinct flaring once more. Even as she tapped away at whatever it was that lived in her phone, her attention stitched elsewhere, he still squared his shoulders as if to show her he could help. "What's wrong?"

"I almost completely forgot I have to go in for an overnight this weekend. Sabrina was supposed to, but she has a concert that night she doesn't want to miss," she sighed, finishing whatever it was that was on her screen before putting her phone back into her bag, "It's basically just a prep shift while we're closed so the opener is ready to put things in the oven. I haven't done one in so long; I don't want to."

"You can't get out of it?" Harry pressed, feeling worried over how much she didn't want to do it.

Was there more he needed to be concerned about? Was she hiding from something? Was someone making her do this? How was he supposed to help her if she didn't tell him what was going on?

"It's honestly not that bad, I'm just being dramatic," she smiled at him, relaxing some under the intensity of his gaze, "These are the kinds of shifts that hurt my hands the most, but it's nice going on when everything is closed. I don't have to be in uniform, and I can just listen to music and be by myself for a little while."

By myself. That pinged in Harry's head a little too loudly. He understood what she was getting at—the kind of solitude that had him gravitating towards his own overnight shift—, but that didn't ease him into the idea of her being alone overnight in the bakery.

"I'll be like you that day," she told him, kicking her toe lightly against his own Vans, "A vampire getting up before the sun is up, and everything."

He wanted to lighten up, especially at the small touch she offered him without reason, but he still was working overtime in his head. "You'll be alone? No one else is coming in with you?"

"Yeah, but it's not so bad," she said, inching out the aisle with Harry following her lead, "I'll see one of the other girls when I come in after we close, but after that it's just me." He was sure she could tell he wasn't completely eased at the new centimeter of information. "I promise it's not as bad as I was acting. I don't even think I'll need to drive that day, so I won't need to worry about parking or anything either."

Though Harry knew she was trying to reference back to when she told him that she wasn't very good at parking and always made herself nervous when she had to pick a spot in the overflow lot by the bakery, he was focusing too much on the fact she wasn't planning on driving at all.

"What do y'mean?"

"I think I'm going to walk to work that day since it'll be so quiet, anyway. It'll help me relax a little afterwards, I think."

Harry almost stopped in his tracks. She planned on walking to her overnight shift. The shift that exclusively deals in dark nights and little to no light? The one that encourages those that feel too comfortable in the dark to come out and mess with someone like her? The spines of his chosen books crackled at his tightening grip.

"You're going to walk?"

"I live in a townhouse a few blocks over, so it's not a long walk or anything. I would do it more often, I just hate usually have things to do afterwards that I need to drive for."

"What time do y'get off?" The question rolled off his tongue before he had even decided he was going to ask as much. He hoped he wasn't coming off as creepy as he sounded.

"I think I'm scheduled until two, but I usually stay a little longer just to make sure everything is resting well before I leave." The information was offered to him with no fight. Another red flag to Harry's too cautious brain. Worst case scenarios began to brew in his brain with villains who made sure to exploit her trusting nature.

He brushed a knuckle against the tip of his nose, taking in a deep breath. "If you're willing to wait a little until I get off, I can walk y'home."

It was (Y/N)'s turn for her steps to falling in the meandering trail they were curating through the stacks. She looked at him with an incredulous look on her face, brows raised and eyes wide. "Really?"

A determined set had his features in hard lines. A furrow scrunched Harry's brows, mouth set into a hard line with a jaw to match, gaze stitched to her own. He didn't waver even when he faltered over his words. "I...I don't like the idea of y'walking alone in the dark."

The incredulous mold of her features melted away to something much more shy and flustered. A small smile curled her lips, her eyes softening as she looked up at him through a flutter of lashes. She was the closest thing to the human embodiment of the butterflies that made their home in Harry's stomach.

"You don't mind after working all night?"

"No."

Her smile grew some at his simple answer. "I think I'd like that, then. Thank you, Harry."

Harry only dropped her gaze to keep her from spotting the small curl of his lips over the sound of her voice wrapping around his name like silk.

—————

Harry had his eyes glued to the clock stationed above the computer in the stock room. The second the hands thunked into position, detailing out three o'clock, he was punching out. Not a minute later. He wasn't going to be late with someone waiting on him.

He promised (Y/N)'d he'd be there to walk her home, and he wasn't going to be a second late.

It was barely 3:02 a.m. when he stepped out into the rain-soaked parking lot, scaling the length to his car. All night had felt like a countdown, Harry near constantly checking the time on his phone to ensure he would finish with his boxes in time to clock out right away when the time struck. Other than a wave over his shoulders, he didn't waste time playing into the chatty goodbyes of his coworkers. (Even on regular nights, he didn't understand how they could be so eager to socialize at three in the morning after a full shift).

After pulling out of the parking lot, the drive to her bakery felt like five minutes with the way he was driving. He especially didn't want her to wait long enough for (Y/N) to get any wild ideas about waiting outside the front doors for him. But, as he pulled up to the building, The Flour Pot sign darkened, there was no one there.

Peering through the windows after he picked his usual parking space across the street, he saw only a tiny light. Knowing what he knew of the layout, it looked as if it could be one the light to the kitchen or a back office, but the shine could easily be mistaken for a glare from oncoming traffic.

That was where (Y/N) was. Safe inside.

The drumming in his chest settled at the knowledge. He hadn't realized he had given so much weight to the scenario where he would pull up to her already walking home without him, some faceless entity trailing her, opening its maw to reveal sharpened fangs before swallowing her whole. (He'd been thinking about checking out Dracula again since their conversation in the library, but after this he figured his imagination was a little too active for something like that).

Now it was his turn to wait. She had warned him that she would be later than her scheduled time of two o'clock, and he had no qualms about waiting it out for her. He was a patient person, a virtue Harry and learned in his old life, but this was one of the first times he felt content to wait for someone. As long as she didn't leave without him.

Harry settled into his seat, soft music filtering through the speakers.

——————

Almost an hour later, from the corner of his eye, Harry saw movement from inside the bakery. The light in the back had been flicked off moments before he saw a comfy dressed figure slipping out of the front door.

(Y/N) had her hair pulled back, a loose shirt on with soft leggings and her ever-present Vans on her feet. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, hands full of her keys and her phone. She took her time locking the front doors.

Through that hour of waiting, fatigue had settled in Harry's bones, making his movements much more lethargic than normal as he readied to meet her on the sidewalk. Until he saw her pull out a pair of headphones from her bag, slipping the buds into her ears before turning in the opposite direction of the shop.

Though he didn't want to scare her, Harry had to quicken his pace and catch up with her as soon as he could. She didn't seem to hear the thud of his feet over the pavement and splashing through rain puddles until he was close enough to call her name. (Any kind of creature could have snuck up on her with her being so distracted like that. The thought sent a frigid chill down Harry's spine).

At the call of her name, Harry's hand inches away from grazing her arm, (Y/N) spun around, hand to her neck with a squeaking scream clogging her throat. Realization came a moment later, her widened eyes and startled stature melting away when she took him in.

"Jeez, Harry, you scared me," she breathed out.

"Sorry," he told her, hand dropping back to her side, "I didn't want y'to leave without me."

"That's right, oh my god," she bubbled off, replacing her headphones back into the pod carrier, "I almost completely forgot you're walking with me. I'm sorry, tonight's been a really long night."

"'S okay," he said, stepping that much closer to her over the cracked concrete. "At least y'didn't get too far before I caught you."

"Yeah," she smiled at him, nudging her shoulder to keep the straps of her bag up, "Thank you again. Even though I almost forgot, it means a lot."

Harry only nodded his head, that odd feeling of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth returning at her words. It wasn't something he'd experienced in a long while, but (Y/N) seemed to be the only one that could pull it from him.

Falling into step beside her as they started on the couple block walk to her home, he saw as she flexed her fingers as her sides, her phone being discarded to float in her bag instead of in her grasp. "Are your hands okay?"

Flexing her hands out in front of her, (Y/N)'s joints were visibly stiff with spots of flour decorating the hem of her sleeves. "Yeah, they're not too bad, actually. I've definitely had worse." She ran the pad of her thumb over the meaty part of the other. "I'm really only sore right here, but I'll be fine."

Her voice was like a melody over the sounds of the night. Rain showers had cleansed the town earlier in the night, leaving their footsteps to be complimented by the stick of raindrops clinging to the rubber soles of their shoes. Leaves rustled around them as drops slid down the surface, arcing down every leaf until joining a puddle created on the concrete around them. Everything smelled wet and fresh; clear. (Y/N)'s refreshing presence fit in perfectly.

"'M happy you're alright," he said, his own hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Peering at her at his side, he saw her looking to the sky. He slowed his steps to not leave her behind. "Am I allowed to know what y'made today?"

"Of course," she laughed, looking at him with the same kind of wonder she was giving to the starry sky, "I prepped a lot of shortbread tonight, so Sabrina can make them into tulips later, and even more croissants. I did a few other little things for the bread case but I think the croissants got me the worst today."

"Yeah? Why do you think that?"

"It's all the layers," she started, leading him in taking a left out of the main town, "It's a lot of rolling it out and making sure I get it all done before the butter starts melting in between. I've gotten a lot better at the timing since I've started, but it's still a lot to work on all at once."

"I didn't know that. 'M sorry." He now suddenly felt bad for enjoying any of her treats. He didn't like the idea of her hurting just for a sweet to start his morning.

"Don't be sorry, it's okay. Someone has to do it," she chirped out, mimicking the birds that were beginning to wake up around them, "How was your night, though? Did you just get off?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't really feel like telling her he'd been waiting for over an hour outside the bakery for her. "I got off a little earlier, but yeah. It was an easy night, jus' boring. Longer than I thought it would be."

Her bag bounced against her hip as they walked, her eyes like the starlight when she looked at him. "Unpack anything fun?"

Dropping his head, he brushed his knuckle against the tip of his nose to conceal the small twitch on the corner of his mouth. He knew what she was getting at. "I mean, I did unpack some cookies tonight."

(Y/N) had them cross the street before turning into a suburban area, full of small houses. It was like a gingerbread house community Harry thought, everything similar but distinctly different with the way every inhabitant decorated the outside.

"What kind of cookies?"

He had to look the other way this time to keep her from seeing that smile. He didn't know why, but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to see him like that; as if she would call him out, like even she would know he wasn't supposed to be happy like that.

With a shrug and his composure in place, Harry told her with a flat tease, "This raspberry kind with white chocolate, I think? And one of the other guys unpacked some fancy cheeses, too. At least I heard anyway."

She was silent beside him for a moment. "I can't tell if you're making fun of me, or if you really forgot that those are two of my favorite things right now."

"Are they?"

That had a peal of laughter falling from (Y/N)'s lips. She drifted close enough then to bump his hip with her own, looking up at him with faux offense. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"

Looking at his feet, the puddles he disrupted with his steps and the clinging wetness that filled the cracks in the pavement. Peering at her from the corner of his eye, he spotted her still looking at him, a smile crumbling her facade.

"A little."

(Y/N) only laughed and shook her head, bumping his hip once more. She mumbled something under her breath about how of course he did.

Straying from her path, (Y/N) bumped Harry's hip once more, her bag pressing into his side. His steps never faltered, eyes forward and a twitch in his lips. He forgot what it was like to be teased and have fun with someone.

The silence that fell between them was filled with the clear, dewy slick of the rain under their feet. The gingerbread neighbourhood he'd seen down the street was now around them in their cookie cutter shapes and frosting decor. Short white picket fences outlined the perimeters of the small front yards, the houses stacked side by side behind.

(Y/N) stopped in front of a row of three units. A set of pastel colored curtains in the window of the one bookending the building gave away exactly who lived there. A dull cream paint was brushed over the panels with a muted blue trim and front door. It was a complete replica of every other townhouse on the block.

The personal touches came in the form of a sunshine yellow bird house hung on her small porch, leaves and twigs poking out of the front hole. A welcome mat was placed in front of her door, the pattern one of daisies and strawberries though the colors had now been muddied and dull from every time a pair of feet wiped themselves off on the fibers. Around the side was a window with a flowerbed hung underneath. Instead of blooms and bright petals, Harry spotted brown leaves and wilted stems. She tried her best to keep those plants alive, he was sure.

"This is mine," she said, looking up at him with starry eyes. For the first time since he picked her up, he saw those lines of fatigue around her irises, exhaustion tugging at her features.

"I'll see you soon, then?" he asked. He didn't mean to sound so abrupt, but he wanted her to get some rest. As much as a part of him wanted her to linger outside with him, to spend some of these usually lonely hours with him, it wasn't fair to keep her from sleeping. She wasn't like him.

Nonetheless, a soft smile touched her chapped lips. "Definitely."

Despite the pause that would allow her to head inside and end her night, (Y/N) lingered for a beat longer. Reaching a hand up to press those stray baby hairs out of her eyes, she looked at him through the fan of her lashes.

"Harry?"

He swallowed. "Hm?"

She looked sheepish in that moment, struggling to meet his eyes with a shy smile on her lips. "You can tell me if this is too much, but I was wondering if I could have your number, maybe?"

Harry's voice stuck in his throat when he processed what she said. His hand clenched in his pocket, his phone suddenly heavy in his back pocket.

A nervous hand pushed back hair that wasn't in her face when the silence stretched on a little too long for comfort. "I don't know, I'm sorry, I just think it might be nice to know when I'll see you again, instead of just waiting? And, I'm really bad at remembering to tell you about the things I see that make me think of you or things I think you'd like and all, so it would be cool to tell you before I forget."

Standing there in the clean air after rainfall, a dew touching his skin with birds beginning to sing around him, Harry felt frozen. His heartbeat didn't quicken, his blood didn't rush, his hands didn't shake. He had been plunged into ice, stopping him in his spot with a breath of air stuck in his lungs.

(Y/N) wasn't supposed to ask him that. She wasn't supposed to want to see him, to find things in the world that made her think of him—she wasn't supposed to think of him at all, really. How did he get here?

How had he tricked her into seeing anything more than a standoffish man who didn't need anyone but himself? Even with these stolen moments together, he couldn't imagine he would enter her mind in the same way she had been able to do to him.

A shuttering blink had Harry's eyes clearing by the time he opened them to find her still standing there. In a millisecond, words tumbled out of his throat, his hand fumbling for his back pocket. "Y-Yeah, of course."

In clumsy fingers, he held his phone out towards her. The device had a hairline crack along the side of the screen, a case that had seen more wear-and-tear he figured most people would allow, and a generic Lock Screen. He didn't bother opening it up and taking her to the needed app. There was no security to get through on there, nothing for him to hide in his squeaky-clean existence.

"Thank you," she said, looking up at him with a shy smile on her lips. She was bashful under his gaze, gingerly taking his phone and swiping through the screens and tapping on what she needed, a short tremor touching at her fingers. "Is it okay if I text myself from your phone so I have your number too?"

Swallowing, Harry nodded his head, stuffing his hands back into his pockets before he had a chance to pluck at his cuticles again. "Maybe—um—y'can let me know the next time y'have a shift like this, and I can walk y'home again. Maybe."

A breathy laugh fell from her lips at his stumbling words, her gaze flicking from the phone to him. "Definitely, I'll let you know. I don't get scheduled for these often anymore, but you'll be the first to know if that changes."

Harry couldn't remember the last time his body reacted this way—the frozen limbs, the waking heart, the stunted lungs. Definitely never under such sweet circumstances, he knew that.

Though he felt like he could have been standing there long enough to see the sunrise then set again, it only took a moment for the text she sent to herself to go through. She took her own phone out then, surely looking at the text and saying Harry's number for herself. There was something especially bright in her gaze when she looked up at him to return his own device, her phone being wrung between both of her hands.

"I'll see you again soon, then?" she asked, toeing at the ground. She didn't attempt to fix the sliding strap of her bag.

"Yeah," he sounded in the quiet of the slow morning, a nod of his head.

He expected her to then spin on her heel and head inside, a goodbye said over her shoulder before he would trace his path back alone. Instead, (Y/N) lingered, her hands growing busier on her phone, playing with the corners of her phone case. That nervous pinch in her brows returned.

"C-Can I hug you?" she asked, voice almost as small as the dew drops on the grass of her yard, "It's okay if you're not a hugger or anything, though, I just thought I'd ask 'cause..."

She trailed off before any real explanation could be given, a sheepish shrug in its place.

If he thought he had been plunged into ice water before, Harry swore he was frozen under the throes of an avalanche now.

"No—um—y'can. 'M okay with it." His voice felt thick in his throat, smearing over his tongue before falling out for her to taste too.

(Y/N) brightened like he had given her something sweet, a treat she couldn't have made herself.

Harry couldn't remember the lead up or any of the details before she had folded her arms around him. She had reached up, looping her arms around his neck while Harry's settled around her middle. His hands spanned the planes of her back, ducking down with his nose touching the crown of her head, ruffled strands of hair tickling him.

From the outside, there was nothing special. She didn't squeeze him particularly hard or press her whole body to his, she didn't spill any secrets into the column of his neck. But, this had to be one of the most profound moments in Harry's recent life.

The last time someone hugged him, he had to have been a teenager. He'd forgotten what it felt like to feel that kind of gentle touch.

She didn't linger for too long, drawing away after she had cradled him for long enough. The absence of her form left a ghost of heat on Harry's body. He almost wanted to clutch at it like it was really her. He'd settle for the warmth of her gaze.

"Thank you for walking me home and everything, Harry." Her smile grew as she spoke. "It made my night."

He could have crumbled then. Whatever was happening to his body and his brain, he wasn't sure. It felt good, though.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he murmured as she took her slow steps back to her front door. His hand tightly clutched his phone in his pocket. "I-I'll text y'when I get home?"

It was like the sunrise occurred right in front of him the way she perked up. "Yes, please! I might be asleep, but I want to make sure you made it home okay." That bubbly smile was tacked onto her lips as she absently fiddled with the doorknob. "Goodnight."

Harry stayed on the concrete until she was safely inside, a wave being thrown over her shoulder to him before the door was sealed shut behind her. It was then when he was alone that he allowed a smile to break out over his features.

Though only the ground under his feet saw it, the smile was for (Y/N), only.

His phone was warm in his palm when he pulled it out, something he was willing to convince himself was still from (Y/N). Sliding open the lock screen, the message thread she had started was still up.

Up top, her name was punctuated with a lotus flower and a croissant. The one message she sent to herself was a heart emoji. Though he hadn't been the one to press send, seeing the text in the blue bubble on his side the screen, made his heart tick. It was easy to pretend he was the one that sent it in the first place.

The whole walk back to his care he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

—————

hyssop represents purification and hope; letting go of the past and allowing a better future

eepppp! super excited to show you some different parts of rosemary h! patreon is now a little more than halfway through the story now, so if you cant wait you can def sign up there and get to know more of their story! thank you soooooo much for reading and following along! so sorry if theres any mistakes but please let me know if you have any fun ideas or requests or predictions!

886 notes · View notes

the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 1 year ago

Text

You're waiting for a train...(15)

Come Back To Reality

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Y/n and Cobb are finally able to come back to reality. But Y/n worries if her and Robert in the dream was just that; a dream.

word count - 1.6k

warnings - just way too much fluff!

a/n - why am I actually getting sad how close we are to the end! I know this one feels like the end but we've still got one more chapter left ;)

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

3…2…1.

My eyelids fluttered open with the weight of a thousand hours. My body laced with grogginess. I crack my bones and felt the comfort of the plane seat under me.

I smiled.

We did it.

I giggled.

I turned to my side and greeted each member with giddiness. We all sat back and relished in success.

I felt a hand grip my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Arthur shooting me a wink. I placed my hand over his and squeezed it in acceptance.

I looked over and failed to meet Robert’s own gaze as he was locked in contemplation. I realised his mind must be flooded, the overcrowding shocking his sense into silence.

But my eyes trained on my father’s still sleeping form. My breath stuck in my throat. His eyes fluttered ever so softly and when they finally opened, they were tired enough for a lifetime. But they were still bright. And they still pleaded love once they landed on my form. As I squirmed about in my seat unable to hide my excitement. He laughed at the freedom of my movements.

Saito followed soon after. He reached into his jacket to pull out his phone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I stood by my father in the queue for passport control. The others had separated off but we stayed together.

His hand slipped into my mine and gave it an affirming grip.

He was next in line.

He turned to me, his face flushed as he was about to divulge everything he could, fearing this could be his last chance. Saito could have screwed him. The clearance may not have been successful.

He struggled to find the words so I decided to help him out.

“I guess you’re healed now. Whatever happened down there it was definitely some form of catharsis.”

“For you and me both.” He breathlessly laughed out.

“I don’t know about that.” His face fell at my sad tone. “I’m gonna need some time. A lot of things have happened down there. I just don’t think I can do it yet.”

“I understand.” He delivered a swift kiss to my hairline. But pulled away with his hand still clasped around mine. “But now we’ve got all the time we need. We’re not running against the clock anymore.” A tear escaped in relief. But I brushed it away before I became noticeable.

“Next.” Was shouted down our line. Dad nervously looked to the awaiting officer. We came together in as miniscule a hug as we could muster before he was sent along first.

He offered up his passport and the officers eyes passed over it intensely. A minute drudged on. We never stopped for a single gasp.

“Welcome to America, Mr Cobb.” His passport was stamped and shoved back to him across the counter. I could see my dad’s frame melt and relax. He moved on more spritely than I’d ever seen. This meant it was my turn and as I approached no worries plagued me. But as my passport was shoved back to me, I remembered there was still just one. And he currently stood at the desk to the side of me.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I shucked my suitcase off of the carousel. I slowly paced my way back down to the exit, following my dad’s silhouette.

I passed each member and acknowledged them with minute appreciation.

I nodded at Yusuf.

I waved at Ariadne.

I winked at Eames.

I smiled at Arthur.

But I was struck in my place when I saw Robert waiting for his own bag. His eyes were locked on his phone but they briefly flitted up just enough to recognise my frame. Fearfully, I scampered to the side. Taking solace behind Arthur’s frame. He looked down at me and couldn’t help but giggle.

He looked up to Robert. He then nodded in understanding.

He turned around and gripped me by the arms so I couldn’t run from what he was about to say.

“We both know what you promised yourself, but we both know how you feel. After everything,” He trailed off and looked over to where Robert was searching for my frame in the crowd. “I think you finally need to take something for yourself” He patted my shoulder and then unceremoniously shoved me towards Robert. I stilled but then ran back to place one last kiss on Arthur’s cheek.

Well I guess there was no turning back now.

I skipped up hoping speed would remove my desire to turn back. I tapped his shoulder and he turned around.

“I just wanted to say I heard about your father and I wanted to offer my sympathy. You must miss him?”

Our eyes finally met unadulterated and we both were allowed to show as much desire as we could.

“Have we met? You look awfully familiar.” The question no longer filled me with dread. I tucked my hair behind my ear and giggled at his dulcet tone.

“I’d like to think I’d remember someone like you.” I flirted back. He laughed but his eyes still raked mine for familiarity. I shook out to start again. “The plane. I was the wall you crashed into.” He laughed in memory and seemed to relax upon this declaration.

“Robert Fischer.” He held out his hand and I shook it. I couldn’t believe how soft his skin was. “But seeing as you already mentioned my father you already knew that so forget what I said it was stupid.” He broke his hand away and mimicked shooing. His body was racked with nerves. So I clasped his hand once again.

“Y/n Cobb. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He breathed out through a smile. “Beautiful.” He whispered before his mind could catch up.

“I’m sorry?” I questioned, thinking I had misheard.

“Oh sorry it’s just that I think you’re very beautiful but there were more eloquent ways to express it.” He once again began to flap his hands about. He seemed embarrassed but I found it endearing.

“Anyways it was lovely to meet you.” I declared and quickly turned, secretly hoping he would stop me.

“Wait!” Told you. “Can I get your number?”

I turned back around but didn’t stop walking as I shouted back.

“I gave you my name. If you’re as powerful as you look you’ll find me by tomorrow.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I caught up to my dad as he conversed with grandad. I fidgeted as I approached, nervous about meeting his eyes for the first time in years. Instead he took my hands away from their movement and pulled me into a bone crushing hug. Tears burst out and it was the only conversation I needed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

We arrived back to the home I had struck from my memory. Fearing it would sting too much.

We both got out, our steps tipping on the edge.

The walk inside felt a lifetime and it seemed the buzzing of life resumed within my mind once again.

We stood as strangers in our own living room. My eyes flitted over every surface to commit it to my mind.

Grandad approached the garden.

“James! Philippa!”

The two innocent frames finally turned from their play and I laughed through tears when I got to meet their beautiful eyes once again.

They ran forward. Jumping into the awaiting arms of their father and sister. James launched into me whilst my dad swung Philippa around. I sunk my head into James’ neck and just relished in feeling him close. We eventually swapped and I offered Philippa the piggy backs she had loved. She began playing with my hair from behind, slicking it through into loose braids. But she gave up and instead felt she’d be more at peace with her arms locked tightly around my neck and her cheek next to mine.

A thousand photographs could never capture the love of that single moment.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I awoke and stretched in the sheets that had been left since my last day. They had been washed, obviously, but grandma had tried to keep my room as untouched as possible.

My bones melted from the deepest sleep I had ever had. For the first time I had slept unaided and it had cured every ache in my chest.

Suddenly my door was thrown open and I looked up in time to see James launch himself onto body. He cuddled into my side and I threw my arms around him, squeezing him.

“Good morning, Jamesy.”

“There’s a man here.” His voice, ladened with sleep, informed. I tensed.

“He’s got a really fancy car and suit and he asked for you.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

My bare feet plodded across the cold wooden floor. I shuddered in my shorts and tank top. I opened the door. And there I was greeted with Robert, in his perfectly tailored suit, stood in front of his car, that I am assuming he didn’t drive himself due to the man stood to the side.

A smile brushed across his face when I finally entered his sight.

“Do you have any idea how many Y/n Cobbs there are in L.A.?” He declared with perfect practise.

“Well, I didn’t want to make it easy for you.” I teased back whilst carefully making my way to him across the stones.

We were now inches apart. Just gazing into each other.

“So did I pass the test? Am I powerful enough to take you out on a date?” He toyed using my previous taunt. I blushed under his intense gaze. My hair fell in front of my face but he carefully brushed it back behind my ear.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked and he smiled so brightly.

From inside the house my dad watched on from the kitchen window. His morning coffee clasped in his hand. Like me, his previous attire was forgone for a soft pyjama top and checkered pants. He looked onto his daughter but once he recognised the light which oozed from her frame, he merely relented, well as much as any father can, and smiled.

“You would’ve been proud of her, Mal.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog @bloodcanbehot @lazybot @raineeace @thearieunhinged @multifans-things @queenofterrasen418 @bey0ndne0 @justanotherkpopstanlol @iamliterallyspidergwen @frozenhuntress67 @alice2612

145 notes · View notes

accidentally-in-fictional-love · 2 months ago

Note

Making it official: ⚡🩹🔞(<- always i just can't help myself) Feel free to use this if you want to, or write anything else really. I'm sure I'll love it regardless, Lightning has already taken root in my heart.

You Light The Sky, I'll Bring The Rain - Lightning/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, semi-spoilers for the movie but nothing actually main plot related, friends with benefits, one-sided pining (or is it?), lots of heavy talk, blowjobs, smut.

Wordcount: 8060

Summary: You've never liked Lightning. He was a bit of a snob, acted like he was too good for you, and always ever called when he needed something. No, you've never ever liked Lighting. But it was the man he used to be that always made you come when he called.

Notes: Switching up my queue just once because if I don't write for this man asap I'll explode. I fell in love with him at once, DD did such an amazing job as usual, I was smitten in the theatre once again and I can't stop thinking about him so here's a filled request for those who already love him~ I do plan on writing him a longer fic, but I need to settle on that plot first since I apparently love him enough to ship with /)w(\ so I gave that original idea to Addy, but I hope you enjoy this in the meantime 💗💗💗

You didn't know why you kept coming back to him. He was different now, much different than the man you knew back in college when you were stuck next to each other in your programming class, from his contacts to his clothes to even his haircut. He still painted his nails, that never changed, and he kept the ring you gave him the night you were walking around town and randomly found it on the ground. You still remember picking it up and trying it on, it was unwanted trash you could turn into something loved again; he seemed to latch on to what you said about it, and he'd gone quiet when you’d slipped it onto his finger and it'd fit him better than you.

That was years ago, he had a high paying job now and little time for you as a result, always busy with the meetings and parties and people surrounding him, so when he called you up one Friday night you expected it to be just another simple ‘hello,’ ‘I miss the old days,’ and maybe, ‘I miss you.’

‘Everyone's busy tonight, you wanna hang out or something? I know this new age tea place just around the corner from where I work, great vibes, you'll love their blends,’ came his soft voice from the other side, much softer than it used to be when you knew him before; he was too old to be talking like this, but you guessed this was another fake thing about him now, something calm and cool and easily approachable so his true self underneath wouldn't scare anyone else away.

‘Hey, Leo,’ you said instead of answering him, your phone placed on your desk while you typed away at your current project, which was honestly taking much longer than it needed to because your boss refused to listen to some nerdy coder trying to fix his company's website.

‘That's not my name.’

‘I'm not calling you Lightning,’ you replied flatly, you'd already had this conversation a million times before ever since he started his job and changed everything about himself. ‘If you’d just go ahead and give me literally any reason why I should other than, “AIA says all the kids nowadays are doing it,” then maybe I would, but I’m not calling a grown man Lightning because his artificial intelligence wants to brand him as cool, not because it’s something you actually chose for yourself.’

‘Can you at least call me that around my friends? I don't want anyone to be confused, or start calling me that too,’ he muttered, just a hint of his old self slipping through the cracks for a moment.

‘Fine, so did you actually wanna hang out or do you just want someone to get new age tea with you tonight?’ He'd done this before, on slow nights when there was no one else to turn to, there you always were, like a lighthouse in his storm of a life; maybe he was a Lightning, after all.

He went silent at your question, but this was all part of the conversation now, the casual exchange between you two that always happened whenever he needed you, and he took no offense to your tone anymore, just as you stopped hurting when you became the last resort instead of the first. ‘I… want someone with me,’ he admitted, he was getting faster with it since you started calling him out, but there was sadness in his words, it was another bad night, something his so-called new friends wouldn't know about. ‘I visited the hospital again today.’

You saved your project and picked up your phone, already heading to the bedroom to get changed. ‘Was it bad?’ you asked as you raided your closet, needing something to match his new style so he could at least feel comfortable, you wouldn't embarrass him by dressing the same way he used to this time, not tonight.

‘The job helps, you know the paycheck pays for all of it now,’ he started, not wanting to get to the hard part, and you didn't rush him as you found your nicest, hippest shirt you'd bought for work. ‘It's still progressing, AIA said the new treatment would help but she warned me-’

‘You're following the advice of an AI, remember that,’ you murmured so softly you weren't sure if he'd even hear it, but he did anyway, and you heard him clear his throat almost uncomfortably.

‘She did the calculations, she’s smart, so much smarter than you know, it’s so much more advanced than everything we learned in class,’ he told you yet again, but you’d believe it when you stopped seeing posts online about AIs saying human things just because that’s what they were taught to do. ‘The meds help, but… it’s gotten to the point where I can’t leave the house without it.’

‘Please, just come with me to the oncologist who helped my uncle.’

‘AIA said Dr. Krill was the best in the field.’

‘AIA isn’t real, she can look online and give you all the answers you want, but this is a human being I know who helped someone close to me, he can give you more answers than she ever could-’

‘Can you please just get some fucking tea with me?’ he snapped, stopping you in the middle of pulling on a pair of too tight jeans because that’s what the kids today loved to wear; his voice was loud, brash, emotional, this was the real him again, the one only you saw nowadays, and you sighed and walked over to where your phone sat on your bed. ‘Please, I’m sorry I just… I don’t wanna be alone tonight…’

‘You know I’ll be there soon,’ you said softly, just as quiet as him, and you heard his sigh of relief. ‘Do you want me to meet you at your place, or at the shop?’

‘Work, I’m still there finishing something up, we can walk over when you get here.’ He hung up immediately, no more time to talk, but you couldn’t get annoyed when you couldn’t imagine what he was going through. This was something that’d started right at the end of college, you’d been there since the beginning, and whenever he got an update you were the only one he could tell. After he got his job he’d paid off his family’s home, he was stuck living with his parents because of all this, and now took care of them from afar, the both of you moving to Silicon Valley at his urging because of the job opportunities.

It’d only worked out for him, you thought bitterly as you finished getting ready, your phone in your pocket and your keys in your hand as you headed for your car. He’d been picked randomly out of a group of 50 to participate in a foundling company’s new alternative to Siri and Alexa, but you hadn’t, whatever you’d presented to them they hadn’t liked once they saw him. You hated him for a while after that, but you didn’t now, not when you knew this job was the only thing keeping him alive. You’d talked about it once, what you would’ve done if your positions were reversed and you’d been the one picked, but he’d gone silent when it came to him imagining you in his place.

You thought it’d been jealousy even though he was the winner, the idea of you having everything he had so unfair after a lifetime of being overlooked, so terrifying even in its fantasy, that he never even entertained the idea for fun. ‘Never change, just be happy where you are,’ he’d told you that night as you lay on the roof of his building, the thing a giant, sprawling cage where you were only allowed to enter the stairwell, that was it. You turned your head to face him, and when he did the same back, you realized that you didn’t recognize him anymore.

You pulled up to that same building, needing to pay the meter since you had no access to the lot as a visitor after closing, and you saw him waiting by the door for you; he was talking to someone else on the phone, his back slouched against the wall and his free hand waving around as he spoke, but his voice was still soft even in his apparent distress, enough so that you couldn’t make out a word he said. You waved to get his attention when he started to pace, and he quickly said goodbye to his caller before readjusting his earpiece and walking calmly over to you.

‘Partner troubles?’ you joked only because you knew he was single, he always made sure to let you know whenever he was sleeping with someone again.

‘Doctor,’ he answered stiffly, and your laugh died in your throat with a rough cough. ‘C’mon, they’re open late but they stop serving food around 10, I haven’t eaten today.’

‘Old habits die hard, even with all the money in the world,’ you sighed as he fixed his collar and made sure he looked presentable again, but he had nothing to say to that one. ‘I see you’re wearing glasses again?’

He looked down at his detachable glasses where they hung against his chest, and he lifted them up and reattached them so they sat on the bridge of his nose. ‘Got the surgery a while back, these are fake,’ he admitted, but he at least looked a bit more like his old self with them on, as dumb as they looked.

‘Now all you need to do is fix your bangs, then you’ll be recognizable again,’ you teased, reaching up to mess with his hair, but he leaned away seriously, he wouldn't let you make him look disheveled when he was out and about. It killed the mood a bit, and his glasses were placed against his chest again as you walked, the tea shop just a few blocks away like he promised but not nearly close enough all the same. You weren’t fond of places like this, everything was always way too expensive and bragged too much about their superior blends compared to other chain businesses, but they were always the same in the end.

He gave the barista a small wave as he approached the counter, and she did the same to him, but there was no comfortable familiarity in their actions, just them going through the motions. You didn’t hear what he ordered, there were too many words and he wanted it way too specific for someone who used to down cup after cup of black coffee like it was water, so by the time it was your turn you weren’t sure if you should ask for the same and just accept whatever it was, or attempt to come up with something yourself. He gave you a nudge when you took too long, and you just smiled and glanced at the menu again.

‘I’ll just have a water for now, I’ll decide in a bit,’ you told her, and she rolled her eyes and got started on his order all the same. He wasn't happy with that, but you weren’t going to pretend you could understand the gibberish hanging above you. You examined it more closely, you were never much of a tea drinker to begin with, but he wanted the company, so by the time your small cup of overpriced and outsourced mineral water was placed in front of you, you downed it and asked for the only kind of tea you recognized. She rolled her eyes again at your simplicity, but you were there for him, by the time you came back she’d probably be working somewhere else, none of this mattered.

You took your order and grabbed a corner booth while his sandwich was being made, he never liked to sit near windows, and he surprised you again when he walked right past you and grabbed the empty table by the door. You let out a small breath and joined him without a word, and even though he picked his seat he still looked uncomfortable as he popped open the tab and took a sip. Your tea was still too hot so you just let it sit, preferring to watch him and take in all the other things he’d changed now that he was in front of you.

You already knew it’d be weird to get used to him just never wearing glasses anymore, he usually wore them when he was around you to save a pair of contacts, the only piece of that part of him the fake ones hanging around his neck. You reached across the table and took them while he ate, knowing he’d be unable to stop you lest he risk wrecking his sandwich, and you put them on and stared through slightly smudged plastic lenses at him. ‘Give them back,’ he said softly once he’d swallowed, but he didn't look too in a rush when he saw the way they looked on you.

‘These are the same frames from before,’ you noted, taking them off to pull them apart and put them back together a few times to test the magnets within, ‘the ones you wore when we graduated.’

‘They looked vintage, it makes for a good accessory,’ he simply said before he took another bite, a small sip of tea just barely washing it down; maybe he didn’t even like the taste, like it was something else AIA had recommended to him as part of his cleanse to keep him as healthy as possible.

‘Well, you did graduate what, two decades ago? Pretty vintage now if you ask me,’ you stated, his age making him wince even though it was a testament to how he was still here, still breathing. ‘So, how much did the surgery set you back this time?’

‘The company paid for it, actually, I just had to fill out a few forms and explain why it was beneficial for me to be able to see without assistance, and I was booked the next day,’ he said as he finished eating, a slightly larger sip this time making the wince return, he truly didn’t like it.

‘Sounds nice, you know how long it took me to even see a doctor to fix my carpal tunnel.’ You weren’t bitter about it anymore, but he glanced at you all the same.

‘You know I would’ve been able to help had you come to me,’ he reminded you, he always did when you brought it up, and again you declined it even though it was long over and done with.

‘And you know I never would’ve been able to pay you back if you’d taken me to one of those fancy doctors who charge by the minute.’ You tried your own tea but it was still a bit too hot, it burning your tongue a little, and even then you could taste that it was more water than tea, flavourless drivel.

‘I’ve never once asked you to pay me back,’ he said seriously as he sat up, his relaxed posture changing into something more stiff until the wince returned and he sat back again, his hand going to his stomach. ‘Sorry- I apologize for raising my voice, that was rude,’ he corrected himself quickly, and it was almost frustrating to see him like this, maybe this would be the last time, for real. ‘But you know I wouldn’t have asked it from you, just like you never did from me.’

‘So that’s what this is, one big payback for all the times I flipped the bill, drove you into town for every appointment when you could barely stand, sat by you until they kicked me out for the night, is that it?’ His eyes met yours, and you saw him again in them as he reached for your hand; you didn’t move away, just waited for him to touch you when he stopped, glanced towards the counter like he was afraid of anyone seeing him be an actual person again.

He made the motion to push his hair behind his left ear even though it was so short now, his earpiece blinking to signal a call that he then silenced, and he distracted himself with more bad tea until he was ready to answer you. ‘It was never about that,’ he began, but he was looking at the table instead of at you, ‘you know I never kept tabs on any of it, so neither should you.’

‘Then why do we keep doing this, Le- fuck, Lighting? You’ve got a great life now, new job, new friends, new you, why am I still the one thing you hang on to? Because you can tell me the truth? Because I know the real you, and you know that I keep coming back whenever you need someone to talk to about the bad days? I thought AIA could do all that for you now, be your new therapist you can let all that bullshit onto, so unless you tell me why, I’m outta here.’ He was silent while you talked, just listening, and when he didn’t speak you just sighed and stood until he was babbling and reaching for you.

‘Stop, alright, just wait, can we- can I go back to your place tonight? We can talk there, just… not here, not where she can hear us,’ he muttered lowly, his hand covering his face and blocking him from view of the only other person, and you let out another sigh before picking up your tea and motioning for him to get up. He did, his tea brought with him even though he didn’t like it, and you switched with him and headed for the door before he could protest. It was awful, whatever blend he was praising was certainly not this one, but you drank it all the same for him as he caught up to you.

You didn’t speak on the way back to your car, and for a moment you wondered if maybe he’d follow you home when he sat down next to you, his earpiece off and tossed among the change on your dash when your teas filled up the cupholders. This was serious, he always had that stupid thing with him in case of any emergencies, and you didn’t comment on it as you drove back to your apartment. It was nothing fancy like where he probably lived, you still hadn’t gotten to visit him, that was yet another part of his new life you weren’t allowed into, but it was still decent and had a nice view of the water if you did say so yourself.

You parked and he didn’t bring his earpiece with him, even his phone left behind on his seat when you got up to leave. ‘Hey, don’t you need that?’ you asked him before his door could close, and he checked the time before shaking his head and setting it back down. You weren’t going to argue, if someone decided to break into your car you wouldn’t lose much aside from the vehicle compared to his phone full of precious information, but maybe AIA really was that good, maybe she - it - would be able to save it all before anything got leaked.

You pursed your lips and grabbed it after all, just in case, at least the headset would be ignored amongst the change.

He already knew the code to get inside and wasted no time in getting to the elevator, he was in an actual hurry this time, and you felt his phone vibrate in your pocket as soon as you approached him. ‘Oh, here, don’t want you losing your job over something stupid like a data breach if this gets stolen,’ you said as you tossed it to him, no photo under the caller ID as someone called Melody tried to get a hold of him, and he stared at it before hanging up on her.

‘I don’t want to talk to anyone else tonight,’ he whispered as he shut off his phone entirely and shoved it into his pockets, and by the time you reached your floor he’d asked you to do the same. Something felt wrong as you approached your door, he was never this disconnected anymore, and you only had a second to open your mouth to ask what was wrong when he pressed you against your door and kissed you urgently as soon as you shut it.

You were used to this, every time it got bad he came to you for something no one else could give him no matter how much time passed, but you couldn’t ignore that pit in your stomach as you groaned uncomfortably against him and pushed him gently away.

‘Not tonight,’ you told him firmly, and he whimpered before trying again anyway, mouthing along your jaw in order to convince you. ‘Leo, please, I’m tired of this…’

‘Just once more, and if you hate me that much I’ll never come back again,’ he whispered desperately against you, the old him showing again and making your chest hurt; this was a part of him you didn’t miss, this part that said this to everyone who didn’t return his feelings, guilted them into a pity trap outside of his sickness, and you ran your hand along the back of his neck before taking him by the hand and leading him to your bedroom as you always did. He made sure to leave his phone and yours by the door though, he didn’t want to be disturbed, and honestly neither did you.

You didn’t let him start up again once your door was shut, but you did start to strip away everything that wasn't him, from his glasses to the fashionable scarf he didn’t need to the necklaces he’d bought at some local craft market because the gems promoted healing, all of these things not the Leo you knew and chipped off one by one until he was just in his shirt and pants. You went for the former next but he stopped you, instead helped you do the same, and when you both had trouble getting out of your too tight pants the mood was lightened when you collapsed onto the bed with them tangled around your legs.

He kissed you again while you laughed, and this time you didn’t argue against it, needing him just as much as he needed this, you always did, which is why you had yet to say no to him before tonight. His kisses felt easier again, this wasn't love but it was still something strong between you, something that he had yet to find a way to replace. His weight was comfortable over you as it always was, your legs wrapped around each other until you were pressed together again, and your fingers ran through his short hair as you let out a dissatisfied moan.

‘I miss your long hair,’ you whispered when you took a breath, and he sighed as he always did when you brought it up.

‘AIA likes it short, says it suits me better based on my face shape,’ he finally explained after many years and many more excuses as to why he supposedly liked it better.

‘AIA doesn't see you like I do.’ He stilled in the middle of kissing from your jaw to your earlobe, and you saw the way his eyes shifted the way they always did when he was doing calculations in his head; you were getting too honest, you hadn’t been able to keep him back then and you knew you could never keep him now, but something about tonight was making you want to try. You played with the hair at the nape of his neck when he looked at you, just waited for him to say something to make this nothing but a mutually beneficial transaction again, just like it'd been that first time years and years ago, and he looked ready to speak when he instead sat up and turned away from you. ‘I'm sorry, alright? I know this isn't anything, I didn't mean to-’

‘They've got me on a stent now,’ he said to the comforter as he played with it, and you sat up next to him and just waited. ‘That's what I saw her about this morning, they just put it in today.’ He lifted up his shirt to show you, and you followed the tube until it disappeared back under the dark fabric. ‘There's a lot I can hide from other partners, but I can't hide this, now that it's this bad I need to do injections every day…’ He gripped his shirt until he pulled it back down, his expression contorting into one of anger instead of misery. ‘I don't get it, I'm better off now, I was able to take care of everyone but myself, why can't I fix myself?’

‘Because you're not broken,’ you insisted firmly, your hands finding his even when he pulled away.

‘Termical fucking cancer sounds pretty broken to me,’ he sneered, disgusted with himself for still being sick after so much money tossed at too many doctors to name over too many years.

‘No, stop it, alright? Just stop, you know I-’

‘What? You what?’

You shoved him onto his back, your hands trembling over his shoulders as you stared down at the slight lift of his shirt where the tube traveled over his skin. ‘You know I've never seen you that way,’ you confessed to him, your honesty finally building up against the dam until it began to overflow, and for once you had his undivided attention without his phone or other people around to interrupt you. ‘Not even at the beginning, before you knew, back when it was just us barely passing that class; we always said it was gunna be us against the world, that if one of us got a job we'd help the other out since it was all so new, and then you…

‘You just had to come out here, and start working for them, and I was so happy for you even when you couldn't get me in cause I knew you were being taken care of. But then, the haircut, and the outfits, and those fucking glasses- who are you? "Lightning”? Who even is that? Because it's not you, I'm the only one who still knows you, Galileo, and I never wanted you to change out here, you never should've had to just to get these people to look at you, because I always have, I always have…’

There it was, everything was laid bare and out in the open for him now, and you shifted so you wouldn't put too much pressure on him knowing that he was hooked up. He didn't speak for the longest time, still doing those calculations before finally he sighed, looked away. You felt cold, and you sat back fully to give him room to sit up again, Leo finding your floor quite interesting as he tried to figure out how to word his thoughts. ‘Changing into this is what's kept me alive for so long,’ he said after what felt like an eternity, and your fists clenched over your knees. ‘You might not like it, and think that I'm different, but ever since AIA helped me fix everything about myself I didn't like I've been happier, healthier, more social.

‘I don't sit around alone anymore, waiting for you to pick up your phone because you've always been miles ahead of me, and I tried, I tried really fucking hard to get them to let you come with me, but you don't want to be where I am, not now that I know what this place is.’ He went silent a moment, gave you a small glance before returning his eyes back to the floor. ‘I know you don't like me anymore, I know it because I'm not stupid, but I never needed you to like me, not as long as you kept- we kept doing…’

His voice went quiet but in a new way, one that wasn't Lightning, but Galileo again, your Leo, and underneath it all you saw that he was still there, still waiting for you just like you'd always been waiting for him. ‘Why did you never say anything?’ you asked carefully, you couldn't mess this up now, and his hand rested over his stomach as he met your eye.

‘Why didn't you?’

You could only stare, he knew why you couldn't, and you knew why he didn't.

‘What do we do now? Can AIA solve this one?’ you tried to joke, but at the mention of her name he steeled; his hands found your wrists as he pulled you back overtop of him, this was new, and your cheeks flushed as you both adjusted until you were sat on his lap for once.

‘She can't solve everything,’ he whispered like he knew something, this was no joke to him, and you linked your fingers with his just so he'd stop frowning like that.

‘Then what do we do? Because if you're content with this, if we do this again, and then tomorrow I'm back to just being the last one you call when the party's over, then… I don't think I can do this anymore, not after what you said.’ You held him hard so he'd know you were serious this time, you'd almost ended it so many times before but it'd never stuck, but you both knew that this time it would if he just said the word.

‘You were never the last one I called, not even tonight,’ he told you, and you felt your heart clench in time with your hands over his.

‘You didn't make that clear enough, y'know,’ you laughed with a small sob, and he reached up to bring your mouth back down to his. This kiss felt different from the rest, it was honest, not just desperate for whatever you had before, and you cherished it deeply as you started to rut against him, ready to continue what you'd started a little less miserably now. He groaned against your mouth until you moved a little too hard, the groan turning from something pleasurable to pained as he broke away to gasp. ‘Sorry, guess we might have to be careful for a while,’ you cringed as he rubbed his stomach with a wince.

‘Just until I'm used to it, they told me that it shouldn't be too obstructive in my daily life,’ he hissed, and you watched him before shifting down until you were parting his legs and finding a comfortable place between them. He watched you back as you toyed with the drawstring of his pants, your eyes fond of what you found as he lifted his shirt with one hand and threaded his fingers through your hair with the other.

‘I've always liked your tummy, but I thought it was too personal to say,’ you confessed as you kissed him just under his belly button, the soft hair there tickling your chin as he let out a nervous chuckle.

‘I know I'm not getting abs anytime soon with this,’ he muttered, he was always so self-conscious about the way he looked back then too, and you gave him another kiss before placing your hand over the one in your hair.

‘Good, lemme keep just this, at least,’ you pleaded so gently that he had no choice but to agree, and when he nodded you took the drawstring between your teeth and pulled it until the small bow was no more. He sighed as you started to strip him in return, his clothes much more loose and relaxed than the outfit you'd chosen, and it was nothing but easy as you freed him of everything until he was bare before you. You got to see the full extent of his chemo like this, and it did hurt to see him still sick after everything he'd been doing to prevent this, but this had to be the final step, didn't it? You'd trust that AI if she was right about this, if her smart algorithmic brain really did do the calculations and found the exact path to the end of all this, because, as you pressed kiss after kiss to his thighs until he was a whimpering mess against your pillows, you didn’t want to imagine life without him.

He wasn't used to being loved, even when this started it'd been hot and heavy and fast until you were sweating in the backseat of his old car; there had been no passion there, just the two of you laying there in fear that you'd just ruined everything if the other didn't feel the same. To avoid that outcome entirely you'd just played it off, made it seem like this was just some drunken fun between two friends, and instead of an afterglow you'd slowly gotten used to him just smoking beside you while you held yourself under the covers and pretended it was his arms around you. You wouldn't let that happen again, not tonight, not tomorrow, not any other night you decided, he was always yours and you were going to make sure that Silicon Valley kept Lightning, because you were going to keep Leo.

You took him into your mouth and started to bob, careful to keep him pressed into the sheets so he wouldn't move around too much, and you enjoyed the view as you glanced up and saw the way his back slightly arched, his eyes shut tight in bliss. It was rare you got to do any kind of foreplay, he was always so busy you tended to get the call, go find him at work, or wait for him to show up so you could quickly fuck and get back to your lives. Only sometimes, when the night was late and his slight touches were getting addicting, did he let you take your time, but never like this.

You'd jerk him off while you watched a movie, and he'd grind against you until you were panting and ready for more, but stuff like this? Where you could worship him slowly and really convey how much you wanted him through your touch, it was almost forbidden. You'd done it only once before, right after he'd gotten the job and you spent the night together to celebrate; he still drank back then, and you'd had too much as you got down on your knees and let him fuck your mouth until it almost came out, the only instance of, ‘I love you,’ that either of you had ever come that close to saying as he painted your tongue and smiling lips white. When he woke up the next morning not remembering the way he'd looked down at you with nothing but love in his eyes, you'd just rolled with it and pretended that you didn't remember either, just another fun night between friends, nothing more had hppened.

You moaned around him until he gripped your hair a little harder, his thighs tensing as he tried not to trap you between his writhing legs, and you lightly dragged your nails over goosebumped skin until his sighs grew louder. If this was really happening, if he was really going to stay instead of going back to his apartment to talk to AIA like she really knew him, then you'd make up for every second you pretended like this wasn't everything to you. You waited until he was just about to come, he was always easy to read in the way his hips would speed up and he'd hold you until you bruised, the only time he left his mark on you because everything else was too intimate, and you dragged your tongue up the underside of his twitching dick before pulling off with a pop.

‘Wh-why’d you stop?’ he moaned as his hips jutted the air to find you again, and you smiled at him before pulling your underwear down your legs and going for the bottle of lube you kept in your bedside dresser. You didn't answer him with words, his hands kept at bay as you placed them on your hips and made him watch as you stretched yourself open, giving him a proper show so he'd really know how badly you wanted him. His eyes started to lid as he thrusted against your inner thigh, just enough to keep him hard, and you got ready to line him up when he stopped you. ‘The condom’s in my wallet, should still be in my pants,’ he let you know, and you just shook your head before sinking down on him until he was almost crying out.

‘Tonight, you're mine, I wanna feel you,’ you whispered as you adjusted to his size, and he desperately clung to you as he felt your tight heat for the first time without the familiar barrier to keep you apart. The stent was still new, you couldn't take him apart the way you always imagined in your wildest fantasies where you'd been able to confess, and he couldn't fuck you as hard as he preferred thanks to the stress of work and pretending to be someone so soft and quiet in order to keep selling himself, but this would be perfect all the same you decided as you chose a spot on his shoulders and started to move. Your nails dug into his skin as you braced yourself on him, matching lines of red spreading out under his own hands on you, your breathing wild until you found a steady pace.

Each time he tried to thrust up you'd slow until he stopped again, a silent warning that was just as torturous on you as it was on him, but no matter what he wouldn't stop to the point where it was making your knees burn from the effort not to move. You begged him to be careful, your voice giving out as he held you a little tighter and got you to slam down a little harder against him, but he just shook his head just like you'd done. ‘You really think… I'm gunna stop now… that I know you're mine?’ he asked directly into your ear when your head dropped down beside his, and any other time you would've shivered from his words but the feeling of the tube brushing against your own stomach was making you nervous.

‘I don't wanna hurt you,’ you whined, but one sweet kiss to your neck shut you up so fast it made your head spin.

‘You've never treated me like I'm fragile before, don't start tonight,’ he implored of you before kissing you again, and only when he sucked a mark that everyone would be able to see did you answer him. You felt him smile against your neck before one arm came up to wrap around your back, his hand sprayed over your neck and trapping you in place as he took a deep breath and started fucking you in earnest, his other hand guiding your hips when you couldn't move at all. You had to fight to keep yourself from laying flat against him, just the bare amount of space between you so you wouldn't shift anything or worse, force the tape to lift right now of all times, and you let him show you just how much he wanted you right back until his hips were speeding up and he was gripping you so hard it was making you keen.

‘Don't pull out, I want everything from you,’ you panted when you felt him slow just a little, he was thinking about it, and he let out the most delectable noise you'd ever heard him make in your life. He sounded like he wanted to argue against it, maybe AIA had filled his head with so much sex ed. that the thought of sleeping with you like this had given him pause, and you sucked in your own deep breath before grabbing on tight and using all your weight to drag him onto his side. This was more like it, you knew he couldn't resist being on top of you especially after your dual confession, and you wrapped your legs around him and forced him to face the fact that he was also starving for this just as you were. You grinned cheekily up at him before he hunched down to kiss your neck again, his stent safe and his core working hard while he finished fucking you.

His hips stuttered to a hard stop as he came inside of you, your entire body shifted up with each final jut of his hips until he was finished, the feeling of his warmth spreading through you while he held you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded enough to push you over the edge. Your fingers curled over his short hair as he shakily lowered himself onto you, your legs unhooking but not letting him go as you wrapped them around his own instead, a silent plea to not get up and start his usual ritual of pulling out his vape now that he also stopped smoking. He obliged not because of you but because he wanted to, his voice soft again as he pushed your bangs out of your eyes and whispered sweet nothings that didn't feel like Leo or Lightning as he said them, maybe there was more of him that he’d never let you see before.

‘Y'know, AIA told me never to tell you, she thought that I'd ruin things,’ he said so quietly you almost couldn’t hear even though you were so close.

‘This is why I know you better than an AI, like how that tea you got tonight sucked ass,’ you finally told him, said tea now long cold on your counter, ‘so maybe you guys should work on making her a mouth so she knows what taste buds are.’

‘It's supposed to be great for my immune system now that I've switched meds,’ he explained, but you waved it off with a grimace.

‘Start injecting it too then, cause I saw your face every time you took a drink,’ you grumbled on his behalf, and he actually laughed a little before he attempted to sit up. ‘No, please, not yet.’

‘It's almost 10, I'm gunna miss my dose,’ was all he had to say to get you to let go, and the feeling of his come running down your thighs was a little less appreciated than you wanted as he walked back to the kitchen. You wiped yourself off on the closet piece of clothing you could find before joining him, the two of you naked and waiting as he took out his meds from his coat pocket. You hesitated before walking over to him, and he looked self-conscious again before allowing you to see what he had to do from now on; you weren't put off in the least, you'd seen him inject himself with worse to numb the pain as his illness got worse and his self-isolation took hold, and when he was done you brushed your fingertips over the spot where skin turned to tape.

‘Don't be ashamed of this, I wanna see you get better,’ you said without looking up, and he let out a shaky sigh that sounded like he might be holding in more than shame.

‘I'll have to get used to doing this at work, people will talk,’ he already dreaded, and you let your hands slide over his waist to his back as you pulled him even closer.

‘Then lie, say it's something new age that they'll easily believe, what's that dumbass thing people are saying now? Where they take like supplements and stuff and call it something stupid.’

‘Biohacking?’

‘Fuck that's so pretentious, just say that shit to anyone who asks and they'll buy it with that haircut, trust me,’ you promised dismissively, but instead of berating you for not only making fun of the people he knew but his hair again, or laughing because he knew it'd be true, he just remained silent. ‘Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to-’

‘You're the only one who's ever honest with me,’ he thought aloud then, and you looked up at him in surprise; for a second you swore you were staring up at the man you knew in college, one blink and he was gone again, but he wasn't gone, he was just older, and looked a little different, but he was still there.

‘It's LA, someone's gotta be a real person down here,’ you joked when you felt yourself get choked up, and you swallowed when his hand cupped your cheek and stopped you from looking away. He kissed you again, and there was no more desperation, no more lies, no more secrets apart from one, one you couldn't find the answer to on his tongue even though you could taste it, and when you heard a small ahem you jumped and covered yourself in a panic from the intruder. ‘The hell-?’

‘Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to remind you that you have an early day ahead, so staying up too late doing strenuous activities will only delay your sleep and risk you injuring yourself in a most unfortunate manner,’ a stranger's voice from nowhere told you, and you looked wildly around before he walked over to his phone, covered the camera with his finger, and motioned for you to stay back.

‘Thank you, AIA, we were just saying goodnight,’ he told his phone, and your eyes snapped to the device in confusion, hadn't he turned it off? ‘I should be getting home, we're meeting with new potential clients tomorrow and we need to make sure she's fully charged for the trip.’

‘What, no time for a vape session with me out on the balcony?’ You tried not to let your voice waver but of course you failed, of course something would steal him away again now that he was yours.

‘Lightning has actually quit vaping, as the toxins inside do more harm than good based on-’

‘Yes, thank you, I was just gunna say that,’ he cut in before his phone could teach you all about the health hazards of something you didn't even do, and you could see the apology on his face as he kept hiding himself from the camera like she was… watching. ‘Yeah, I don't… I don't do that kinda thing anymore, just drink shitty tea if I feel like torturing myself.’

You laughed, which made him laugh, and for a moment you forgot about his phone until AIA reminded him of the time in case he had no clocks nearby. ‘Y'know, you can always just, spend the night like you used to do, and then we can get up early, maybe grab breakfast at that greasy diner that always manages to make the most perfect bacon while still burning the hell outta their toast,’ you suggested nervously, and he looked down at his phone before shutting it off again, no goodbye to AIA.

‘I haven't had actual bacon in months,’ he revealed as he walked back over to you, and you patted his stomach and started to lead him back to your bedroom.

‘Sounds like you're due, I'll set the alarm, okay? No wakeup calls from nosy AIs needed tomorrow.’ You left him just a moment to grab your own phone, and he frowned at it before nodding, letting you set the alarm so you'd have time to get that breakfast even though the drive was long and he was bound to regret it later when all that grease met the abundance of healthy foods he'd been choking down. You were already looking forward to it, and you didn't notice the way your phone switched to your contacts for just a moment when you set it down, a new name adding itself before it went back to your home screen, your focus only on him as he finally held you under the sheets just the way you'd always wanted.

#Ray's Readers #Ray's Requests #david dastmalchian #lightning afraid #lightning x reader #oh boy I hope that doesn't end up in too many wrong tags #this took me way longer than it should've because I made the mistake of watching a movie with Rhys and OH BOY was my heart torn between the

20 notes · View notes

strawberryys-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

Neteyam x avatar!reader

part 2 :))

genre: fluff

part 1 part 3

a/n: i have no clue what to add to part 1, but here you go!

When Lo'ak suggested that you should try and experience the adrenaline of riding an Ikran, the vibrant blue color got drained from your face. You admired the creature, no doubt in that, but the thought of being among the clouds frightened you, especially if it meant having Lo'ak as the escort.

"No," you push yourself through the doorway of your bedroom, passing the youngest son of Toruk Makto with a full box of Norm's paperwork in your arms. "I am not stepping out of this laboratory to fly a banshee, especially if it means you get to skip your sparring match with Neteyam."

"Come on," Lo'ak rolls his eyes and skips after you, dodging the 'happy birthday' sign that Max insisted Norm hangs above your bedroom door the day prior with a quick bend. You place the box down on Norm's precisely clean desk with a huff, your best friend stealing a peek over your shoulder at the statistics with a frown. "It'll be fun! Definitely much more of a fun than this.." he points to the papers, "mess."

You pinch the bridge of your nose and turn to face the blue-skinned boy with a sigh. "Lo'ak-"

"Don't be a wuss," you send a scowl his way. He brings his hands up in surrender, the corners of his mouth curving into a weak smirk. Lo'ak knows how to hit the nerve of yours. "Flying an Ikran is our tradition. If you wanna fit in, you need to do it." you walk away from him with an annoyed groan. "Besides, i'm gonna be there with you!" Lo'ak calls after you, chuckling when he receives a whine in return from the hallway.

---

"I hate you," you breathe out, knees weakening and heartbeat speeding up. You are currently sitting cross-legged on the upper chamber of the Hometree, hands tied behind your back.

When you noticed a note on your door in the morning from Norm that reminded you of his and Max's quick trip to collect more examples from Pandora's flora, you used their absence to sneak out in your avatar and wander around the forest, unaware of the pair of yellow eyes watching your every move.

"I wanna pluck your eyes out right now," you state with a threatening tone when Lo'ak approaches you with his Ikran. You pull your knees to your chest as they stop in front of your shivering figure, clearly amused by your reaction. "I thought you said you and Neteyam have a sparring match in the morning."

Lo'ak pats the side of his banshee before he kneels beside you, excitement present in his gaze. "We do," he nods as his hands travel to your tied ones. He frees them but immediately traps them in his, knowing you will try to escape any minute if he doesn't. "I'm just not going to show up."

"That's awful," you voice your opinion about the situation and let the Na'vi push you forward. Your chest tightens when the two of you reach the Ikran, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "Lo'ak, please.."

Your best friend places one of his hands on your shoulder while the other finds its way on his banshee and begins to caress her skin affectionately. "Do you trust me?" he locks his eyes on the back of your head and notices the hairstyle change, which probably is from Kiri and Tuk.

"I do," you swallow hard when his Ikran slightly rubs her head against the back of your shaking hand, not noticing Lo'ak connecting his queue to hers. "I do trust you."

"Good," he grasps your waist and lifts you up with ease, putting you on the creature. Unintentionally, you swing one of your legs over to the other side of his colorful Ikran, heartbeat increasing when she releases a screech. Lo'ak positions himself in front of you and finds a steady grip on the banshee while you wrap your arms around his waist. "Ready?"

"No-" with a whistle, the Ikran runs to the edge of the upper chamber and you bury your scrunched face in Lo'ak's shoulder. "I hate you!"

The beginning of the unpleasant flight is mostly filled with gliding and slow pace, but after Lo'ak notices the lack of your screams and swears, he starts to mess around with the speed and adds some tricks to spice it up.

"It isn't that bad, is it?" he glances over his shoulder at you, chuckling. You slap his shoulder-blade in disagreement. When your hand meets his vibrant blue skin, Lo'ak takes a sharp turn to dodge a floating island he didn't notice before he dedicated his attention to you. The sudden change accompanies the pressure of the wind around you, pushing your side. Your fingertips brush Lo'ak's bicep as you fall off his Ikran, eyes widening. "Shit!"

A panicked shout of your best friend's name scratches the inside of your throat and strikes Lo'ak with guilt and fear. His Ikran senses the enormous amount of panic and dives after you.

Your falling avatar is caught by a strong pair of arms, saved from a harsh fall and possible death. You catch your breath as Lo'ak stops next to your savior, relief present in his gaze.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Neteyam pulls your shaking figure to his chest and glares at his irresponsible brother. Your arm sneaks behind his shoulders while his lecture continues to pass through your ringing ears.

"I didn't expect them to fall!" Lo'ak tries to defend himself, unable to absorb the situation. Neteyam scoffs and adjusts your position in his embrace, encouraging you to spread your legs and make yourself comfortable - promising he has a secure grip on you and that you're allowed to move. "Y/n, I'm sorry."

"It's okay-"

"No, it's not," Neteyam cuts you off and points to his younger brother, ears pulled back. He clicks his tongue, "You're so fucking lucky they aren't injured. If they were, you would be headless."

Lo'ak lowers his head in shame as you lean backwards, your savior's breath hitching when your back is fully pressed against his chest. To say you are intimidated is an understatement. Neteyam doesn't curse often, hell, he doesn't curse at all because he wants to live up to his father's expectations, but when your health and safety is involved, he isn't afraid to break the rules.

"Go home," The Olo'etykan-in-training commands, fighting the urge to beat some sense into his brother. "And help Kiri with the preparations for the ceremony." Lo'ak opens his mouth to protest, but with one quick raise of Neteyam's eyebrows he doesn't waste a second and swallows his words.

"Again," The younger son makes eye contact with you and scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I'm sorry." you send him a nod of forgiveness and assure him that you are going to be okay with a soft smile. With a stern look piercing through his skull, Lo'ak disappears in the clouds above you.

Neteyam places his forehead on the nape of your neck and sighs with relief. "You okay?" he hums, his lips brushing against your skin which sends goosebumps down your spine. Your hand travels to his knee and leaves gentle rubs on top of it as he shifts in his spot behind you.

"You scared the hell out of me," he confesses and pats the side of his Ikran, tightening his grip around your waist. You chuckle under your breath, pressing your back to his chest when the banshee begins to move forward. "Thank you, Eywa, for the sickening feeling I got when Lo'ak didn't show up to the sparring match."

"Thank you, Eywa, for sending this brave warrior to save me."

Neteyam slaps your thigh gently and presses a sweet kiss on the back of your head, chuckling. "Shut it."

#neteyam x reader #avatar imagine #neteyam imagine #neteyam #avatar

843 notes · View notes

blueraineshadows · 1 year ago

Note

Good morning, lovely lady! I'm very sorry to bother you again!

I have a little request if you find the time :)

I'm going through some stuff in my life atm that's really getting me down, so I need as much escapism as possible! 😅

*******

So after Hogwarts, MC and everybody went their separate ways. She hasn't seen Sebastian for years, but occasionally, they talk via owl. I'm thinking that Seb went on and got a really exciting job where he could travel and explore? Maybe MC got some kind of job at the Ministry that was a little less exciting?

Anyway, MC ends up meeting a handsome man at the office she works at, and he courts her before proposing to her. She says yes, even though she still harbours deep feelings for Sebastian, but she hasn't seen him for literally years.

At first, the fiance is really nice and kind, but he's been wearing her down little by little. A bit controlling. MC feels she's becoming quiet and docile.

There's a Hogwarts reunion in Hogsmeade and MC reunites with everyone. Sebastian attends, and there's still this literal connection between him and MC. They chat, and she introduces him to her fiance, whom Seb dislikes very much. He sees how they interact with each other and is furious.

Seb corners MC later in the night, after a few drinks, and tells her her fiance is an ass. That he's draining her spark. MC is angry at Seb, but there's so much sexual tension between them. Queue elicit affair-y smut between them.

Maybe fiance discovers and tries to drag MC away, but Sebs having none of it? Meh, Im rambling now, but you get the idea 😅❤️

Thank you for the Ask! 💜 I hope this meets your expectations...I got rather into it, so it's quite long!

Emotional/Fluffy/Spicy ❤️🥰🌶

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC x OC William Bennett

Dearest MC,

I hope this letter finds you well. How is London? I hear the weather has been very hot this summer. I can only imagine the assault on the senses a bustling city like London conjures in such heat.

As for me, I have spent three weeks in Italy, and it is beautiful, rich with history. You would have loved the library archives with its relics. It made me think of you and our times together. I wish you could have seen it. Currently, I am making my way back to England, stopping off to meet with Ominis, before returning to Feldcroft.

I hear there is a reunion of our old class mates in Hogsmeade at the end of the month. All being well with my journey, I hope to make it and see everyone. It will be nice to reunite with old faces and hear new tales. Are you attending? It would be lovely to see your face again. If I am lucky enough to attend, then I hope to see you there.

Be well. I miss you, as always.

Yours,

Sebastian.

The parchment was beginning to curl at the edges, she had read it so many times. MC smoothed the tip of her finger over Sebastian's name, signed by his own hand, and felt a weight settle heavily over her chest. His letters were few and far between, but each one woke up the most secret part of her heart. That special place where she kept her feelings for Sebastian curled up tight.

MC had not seen Sebastian for years, not since he had left to travel the world for his new job, leaving her behind to sit at a stuffy Ministry desk all day. She cherished every letter he sent, but her deepest desire was to see him, to hear his voice. It tightened her throat just to think of it.

"Darling, are you here?"

MC jumped at the sound of William's voice and quickly folded the parchment, tucking it away safely inside her blouse. She smoothed her hair and set her face into one of calm sweetness, William did hate it if she didn't look pleased to see him.

She grabbed the pile of files from her desk that needed to be stored and stood up, making herself look busy as William appeared in her office doorway. He looked dapper in his fine suit, top hat in hand, his coat over one arm. He smiled, blue eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "There you are, my love," he said. "Care for some lunch?"

"Of course," she said. She patted the files. "Do I have time to file these?"

He looked at the folders, a slight frown on his lips. "If you must. I will be glad to see the day when you no longer have to be messing about with old, dusty archives."

"It's not so bad," she replied. She attempted a smile, trying to please him. "I quite enjoy it. When I was at Hogwarts..."

"Yes, yes, I know," he said, waving a hand to brush away her words. He moved to tug the files from her arms and dump them on her desk. "Soon you will not need to worry about such things. You will have social events to attend, girlfriends to have afternoon tea with. As my wife, you will want for nothing, I promise you. No need to sit at a desk all day wasting your time with your nose stuck in a book."

He chuckled and shook his head, fetching her coat from the hook. "Honestly, women who read!" He clicked his tongue and held the coat up for her. "I thought we would lunch at that lovely place near the river we like."

"Of course," she agreed. "Whatever makes you happy, my dear."

His smile was satisfied as he took her arm and led her out of the office. She kept her head down and her smile polite, nodding and saying all the appropriate words as they walked from the Ministry towards their restaurant.

Behind this meek mask, her heart was twisting at the feel of Sebastian's letter against her breast. How had she let her old life slip so far through her fingers? How had she ended up so lost?

She tightened her hold on her fiancé's arm, thinking that he might be the only thing holding her up right now. Handsome William Bennett, heir to a railroad fortune, deep in favour with the Minister for Magic, and admired by many. He had charmed her, courted her relentlessly, and then he had proposed. It had been the bottom of a long, lonely, slippery slope and she had accepted.

The huge diamond glittered on her finger, but her heart felt dull, empty. Somehow MC had lost herself and she wasn't sure how to get herself back.

....*....

The train slowed to a stop at Hogsmeade Station and MC stepped from her carriage, hand in William's as he escorted her, the image of the perfect gentleman. Behind his polite demeanour, he was quietly seething. He had not wanted to make this trip, but had refused to allow her to travel alone. It was unbecoming for a young woman, he had lectured. So, despite his disdain, he had accompanied MC.

The Scottish Highlands were looking as beautiful as ever and MC took a deep breath, her eyes drinking in the familiar sights. She felt some of the weight lifting from her heart. It felt like coming home.

The next port of call was The Three Broomsticks. William had reserved two rooms for them.

"We could, of course, share a room," he murmured, near her ear. She felt herself clam up, her fingers clutching his arm a little tighter. He mistook the movement for something a little more desirable and brushed his fingers over her knuckles. "We will be wed come the winter, it wouldn't be the most terrible thing to share a bed, and you could almost say it is a romantic setting."

He gestured at the quaint little village, his eyes warming with desire as he gazed down at her. "I would love nothing more than for you to come to me at night, share my bed."

She flushed and lowered her gaze. William was handsome, to be sure, and MC had shared kisses with him, polite courting touches. But there was no fire there, no burning need to feel him closer. Waiting for marriage was an excuse, and one that would soon be void. MC didn't want to think on it.

"I...I'm not sure if that's entirely appropriate," she said, quickly. "This is a close knit community, people talk. We should wait until we are married, William. It's the right thing to do."

William's lips tightened in disappointment, but he nodded, regretfully removing his caress from her hand. "Of course, my love. Seperate rooms it is."

MC fought back her shiver of relief.

That evening, dressed in a dark green dress with silver threading in the bodice (not in the hope of impressing a certain Slytherin, of course), MC entered the bar of The Three Broomsticks. Her corset was tight, but she was breathless for a whole other reason. Tonight, she might see him. Sebastian might have come.

"MC!" Poppy came bounding out of nowhere, cheeks flushed with happiness, her hands clasping MC's tightly. "Oh, I am so glad you came!"

The girls embraced and MC felt the burn of tears as her old friend squeezed her tightly. "I have missed you, Poppy. And look at you! So beautiful!"

William frowned at such open displays of affection, but he was polite when introduced. MC couldn't help but see the flicker of confused disappointment in Poppy's eyes at the word, fiancé. MC fixed her smile in place and moved to greet the others.

Garreth and Leander were there, Natty and a few others MC was pleased to see, but her eyes couldn't help but stray to the entrance, her heart hoping for a glimpse of unruly brown hair.

William was bored, his face a little sour as he stood by the bar. He watched MC closely, frowning when Garreth and pulled her in for a hug. MC had soothed William with soft touches on the arm, reassuring smiles, but she was tense, afraid of doing or saying something wrong. If only he had let her come alone. If only she could breathe.

And then the doors opened, two men walked through, and MC's heart dropped, stilled and then soared, beating a mile a minute. Ominis looked so dashing, and tall, commanding the space around him as his wand led him further into the bar. Beside him, as always, was Sebastian.

"Oh," MC breathed. The sound escaping her lips without any thought for hesitation. Oh, but he looked so wonderful! Better than she had ever imagined!

Sebastian's face had lost it's smooth roundness of boyhood, but it had filled out in other ways, ways that made MC's mouth feel so very dry all of a sudden. His shoulders, his hips, the length of his legs, the way he laughed at something Ominis had just said, his head falling back just so. Her starved eyes gobbled it all, hungrily. He pushed long fingers into his hair, rumpling the brown locks and MC felt her hands clench into tiny little fists. Oh, how her fingers longed to do the same.

She thought she might cry, faint like some over dramatic socialite, or maybe just lose the entire contents of her stomach right here in front of everyone. Butterflies were flipping madly in there and she pressed a hand to her chest, that heavy tightness seeming to become a pounding thud. Or was that her heart?

"Goodness me, is that the youngest Gaunt boy?" William asked.

Ominis was hardly a boy any longer, and would no doubt frown at the term, but William could be pompous and irritating at times. He had a habit of behaving as if people were below him, and MC wondered how it had not bothered her sooner.

MC tore her gaze from Sebastian to nod at him. "Yes, Ominis Gaunt," she replied. Her words were a little breathless, her eyes desperate to return to Sebastian. "I thought I had told you I attended Hogwarts alongside him."

William's gaze was sharp, almost irritated. "You did not. You must introduce me, MC."

"Of course," she agreed. She took William's arm and they moved to join her two favourite Slytherin boys at the bar.

Sebastian's gaze fell on MC and he stilled, pure delight washing over his features. "You came!" He exclaimed.

Ominis stilled beside him, his head tilting a little in the direction Sebastian had spoken. His words were soft, filled with warmth. "Don't tell me MC is here?" He smiled and held out a hand. "Then I must greet her at once. Where are you, my dear, for I have missed you a good deal."

MC flushed and held out her hand, placing it in Ominis', who then placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. William watched the whole thing, his mouth tightening at the familiarity between his fiancé and the young Mr Gaunt.

Sebastian was watching too, his eyes only for MC, as if he needed to savour detail as she had of him.

"Ominis, may I introduce my fiancé, William Bennett?" She guided Ominis towards William who shook his hand in greeting.

"Bennett?" Ominis asked. "Of the Bennett Railroad family?"

"The very same," William said, proudly.

Sebastian's eyes at darkened at this introduction, his eyes now assessing William closely, his lips thinning a little. Ominis turned to introduce him, and while William was polite, he had no interest in Sebastian. He was more keen to speak with Ominis, to rub shoulders with a well known Wizarding family.

William looked down at MC. "Why don't you run along and chit chat with your little chums, my love, and let the men talk."

Sebastian's eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting upwards as he glanced between William and MC. A flush darkened MC's cheeks and she nodded meekly, unable to even meet Sebastian's gaze. If she had, she would have seen the shock in his eyes at her timid behaviour. The girl he knew would have been spitting fire if someone had belittled her like that.

MC left William to talk to Ominis, every fibre of her being trying to resist as she turned her back on Sebastian. It hadn't been enough, not nearly enough, and she almost gasped at the need to be nearer to him.

They sat for dinner, William dominating Ominis' attention, but he kept a possessive hand at MC's arm or lower back at any given opportunity. When they ordered, MC had quite fancied the chicken, but William ordered the beef for the both of them, not even consulting MC to see if that's what she wanted.

MC risked a glance towards Sebastian and swallowed at the fury in his eyes as he glared at William. Her heart pounded. Shame made her gaze drop to her lap, her fingers twisting her napkin. She felt like an outsider imposing in on her own body. Her very ears rung with the horror of losing her own sense of self.

She looked at the people sitting around the table, chatting, laughing, her own lips moving and attempting to smile, but it felt strange. Her heart craved all of this, these familiar and much loved faces, but her head was warped. She felt trapped.

The only thing that helped was the wine, and even that had been chosen and poured for her by William.

Poppy clasped her arm after they had finished their meal. She leant across to William. "I am going to steal your lovely fiancé for a time, we have some much needed girl talk to catch up on."

A crease appeared on his brow as he stared at Poppy, then he glanced across the table towards Sebastian, who was deep in conversation with Garreth. Slowly, he nodded. "Of course, you two ladies have fun."

Poppy led MC away from the table and outside into the cooling evening air. MC gulped down her breaths and held on to Poppy, grateful for the escape.

Sebastian may have been talking to Garreth, but he had been keeping an eye on MC all night, his fury mounting at the way that pompous bastard had belittled and shamed her. His fingers ached from the need to smash his fist into the prick's pretty face.

Poppy pulled a hip flask from her silk bag and held it out to MC. "Here, you look like you could do with some of this."

MC saw the flask. "That had better be fire whiskey," she said.

"What else?" Poppy grinned.

MC took the bottle and swallowed two long gulps, gasping, but relishing the burn as it went down.

"Why him, MC?" Poppy asked, bluntly. "Why William?"

MC shrugged. "He was kind to me."

Poppy frowned. "That is no reason to sign yourself up to marriage with him," she said. "I mean, you don't look yourself, not a happy, blushing bride in the slightest. And, yes, he is pretty, but he is no Sebastian, MC. Not by a long stretch."

MC gaped. "Wh...what?"

Poppy gave her look. "Oh, MC, really? We're not kids anymore, and you are not fooling anyone, especially me. The tension between you two is so thick, you could slice it with a good Diffindo!"

MC's blush touched the tips of her ears. "Do you think William has noticed?"

"If he hasn't, then he is even more of a fool than I thought."

MC stared at her. Horror was one emotion tugging at her. The very idea of William knowing the depth of her feelings for Sebastian was chilling. But she could also see the ridiculous predicament she had found herself in, and it really was one of her own making. But how would she get out of it?

Maybe it was the alcohol going to her head, or maybe she was going mad. Either way, she started giggling, and then she couldn't stop. And then Poppy was giggling. It felt good, so good. It was a release and MC seized it with both hands. She held up the fire whiskey. "I think I need some more of this."

....*....

The air inside the bar was becoming too suffocating and her corset felt like an iron band. MC was flushed from the whiskey, hot and flustered by the presence of one Mr Sallow, and yet he still wasn't close enough for her liking.

She met his gaze for about the 100th time and he smiled, a delicious, sinfully beautiful smile. Her lips parted. Oh, Merlin. She really might faint this time. And then he was moving towards her. Her pulse picked up the pace and she wiped sweaty palms against her hips.

William was visiting the bathroom, there was no other distraction, and then Sebastian was in front of her. "There you are," he said, softly. His gaze was warm. "Finally, a moment alone."

"Yes," she breathed. She stared at him, inwardly kicking herself. Yes? Is that really all she could say?

A torrent of unspoken words hung between them, suspended, dangling like tempting fruit. Now that he was right there, in front of her, her tongue seemed frozen and all she could do was stare.

A flicker of concern clouded his eyes. "I did worry a little when you didn't reply to my last letter. I had hoped you would be here, even if just to ease my mind that you were alright."

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was rude of me. But, I am glad to see you here. I am glad you made it safely home."

He nodded, a small smile on his lips, but he still looked concerned. "I didn't expect to find you engaged, though. That was a surprise. At least you have someone looking out for you, if that's what he actually does?"

Her lips tried to lift into a smile, but she had never been able to lie to him. The words that fell from her lips felt stilted, wrong. "I'm fine."

His eyes narrowed a little. "You are happy, aren't you? I mean, it's what you want."

She knew what he meant, oh she did. He knew her better than she knew herself, even though miles and time had kept them apart. She needed to smile and nod, the perfect little puppet she had become, tell him that she was happy, she was fine. Her life was all roses and smiles, etc, etc.

Her lips parted but nothing came out. His eyes dropped to her mouth, distracted by their movement and nerves made her tongue dart outwards, flicking over her bottom lip. Her breathing stalled at the way his eyes darkened, a fire building behind them, and her traitorous body responded. Flame, searing and coiling deliciously, overwhelmed her and she actually gasped, because she was leaning forward. Her body, like a magnet, was drawn to him, impossibly drawn to where it belonged.

Shock at the realisation made her straighten and she pressed trembling fingers to her cheeks. Where she belonged!

Merlin, she couldn't breathe. She turned on her heel and made a dash for the door, not caring who saw as she grabbed up the skirt of her dress and headed out into the fresh air.

Of course, Sebastian followed. Hadn't he always?

He caught up to her, took her arm, and spun her to face him. "Please...don't." She gasped.

He didn't let go. She looked down at where his long fingers held her forearm, not gripping her, just holding her. No possession, no demand, just a touch. Her lips trembled.

"I've seen you face countless monstrous enemies, take down the darkest wizards and slaughter trolls in broad daylight," he said. "But I have never seen you cower, or hide as much as you have tonight, MC, and it rips me open. It kills me to see you so, a shadow of your former self. How did this happen? Is it him? Does he hurt you?"

"Of course he doesn't hurt me! Don't be ridiculous."

"You're aren't happy though, are you? Not really," he pushed.

Her chest heaved against the tight laces of her corset, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. He was right, gods he was right and she hated it, because it meant she was wrong, she had failed.

"I...we shouldn't be talking like this..." She glanced around the now darkened street.

Sebastian's face tightened. "Why? Because dear William won't like it?"

She flinched.

He tugged her a little closer. She let him, her eyes glued to his. "Well, I don't give a flying fuck what he thinks."

A small cry left her lips as he grasped her hand and began to walk her away from the entrance of the pub, his stride determined. She had to jog to keep up, her little heels clacking on the cobbles, her other hand lifting the hem of her dress.

He took her to a darker, more secluded corner, and a thrill shot through her despite everything. She found herself backed up against a stone wall, his face inches from hers. He leant a hand against the wall near her head, his other hand coming up to gently cup her face. She closed her eyes, the touch of his skin against hers a forbidden flame.

Merlin, she was leaning into it!

"Tell me the truth," he begged. "Tell me he makes you happy, and I will leave you alone, I promise. But if he doesn't, even if there is the smallest doubt, then tell me. You can tell me."

"Sebastian..." Her voice was a whisper, a plea. "Don't..."

"I cannot bare the thought of leaving you with him if he is going to continue to crush you like he is, because that girl I knew at school, that wonderful, fiercesome girl, who knocked me on my arse on my first day...that girl is going to die if you let him bully you like that."

She stared up at him. Her heart hurt. Maybe she was already dead inside and that was why she had let things slide so far.

He looked down suddenly, and she followed his gaze. Her breath stilled. When had her fingers threaded themselves into his clothing? She was grasping the front of his vest, a fistful of cloth under white knuckles. She couldn't let him go either. If she let him go, then she might just float away, lost to the skies, a drifting ghost of herself.

Their gazes met again. How she had missed those eyes!

"Don't look at me like that." His voice was rougher, deeper, an edge to it that made her skin erupt with goosebumps.

"Why not?" She was playing with fire. She was going to burn herself.

"Because it makes me want to throw decency out the window, and kiss you until I can't breathe," he said, darkly.

Oh, she was definitely going to burn. She realised she didn't care.

The fingers curled in his vest pulled him closer until his lips were a breath from hers. "Do it," she sighed. "I can't breathe anyway."

The moan in her throat was relief. His lips found hers, a soft, teasing taste that promised so much more. Eagerly, she welcomed him, parting her lips and offering her tongue, the taste of him more intoxicating than any fire whiskey.

Her fingers found their way into his hair, sliding through the softness, and it sharpened the ache growing within her. Her body pressed up against his, the solid length of his frame so safe, but exciting. Their clothing was an irritating barrier, her skin screamed to feel his, like she wouldn't feel complete until she could wrap herself around it.

"Gods, MC..." He groaned, his mouth moving to taste her jaw, her throat, his tongue swirling up to flick against her ear. Her grip in his hair tightened. Yes, this was what she wanted, what she craved.

MC closed her eyes, savouring the feel of his lips on her neck, his mouth sucking, tasting her flesh. The warmth of his hand seared through the silk of her dress at her waist, the bones of her corset stressed under the pace of her breathing. "More," she panted. "Sebastian..."

He claimed her mouth again, his hips rocking against her, her back scraping against the stone of the wall. She smoothed a hand down the expanse of his back, melting at the flex of muscle, before drifting lower, daring a squeeze of his delicious backside.

"Fuck," he breathed. The profanity sent a crackling thrill through her, and she moaned. Yes, she would love to do that, craved it even.

He began moving his mouth downwards again, lower this time to swirl his tongue against the tops of her breasts, the flesh moving rapidly above the rim of her corset with every panting breath. His fingers tugged at the damned thing. "I need more of you," he muttered.

And she would give it, gladly, she realised. A pin slid from her hair, a long lock tumbling free to tickle against her flushed cheeks. She was lost, drunk on his kisses, his touch, and it was nowhere near enough. She felt like a woman starved.

A rustle of silk, cool air against her legs and then a warm hand smoothing up the flesh of her thigh. The sound that left her throat was almost feral. "Yes, yes," she panted. She grabbed at him, fingers tugging his shirt free from his trousers, a hand sliding up underneath to explore the hot, firm flesh waiting for her there.

She ached for his touch, her thighs trembled in anticipation as he slid his hand higher. Just a bit more, she begged silently, her eyes squeezed tight. Just a bit higher. His finger tips grazed against damp silk, and then he was gone, ripped from her clutches forcefully, and someone was shouting.

"How dare you!" William held Sebastian by the scruff of his neck, shaking him, fury twisting his face into something terrible, frightening even. "How dare you lay your hands on my fiancé!"

MC was gasping, her hair in disarray, her skirts caught up revealing a bare leg. Red marks of passion bloomed on her throat and chest, all the way down to her neckline. Her legs shook, not from fear, but from a need unmet.

"William!" She held out a hand for him to stop, the other hand hastily smoothing down her skirts. "Stop, William!"

Sebastian shook himself free of William easily enough, shoving him backwards and whipping out his wand. He aimed it at William, his lip curled. "Grab me like that again and you'll know about it!"

William pulled his own wand out, eyes narrowed. A stand off. William flicked his gaze towards MC and his fury faltered, his mouth gaped at the sight of her so dishevelled. "MC..."

She smoothed the loose strands of her mussed hair back from her face, the beginnings of a flush flooding her cheeks. She kept her hand held out, stepping between both men. "Lower your wands," she said. She looked at William. "Please."

"I think not," William said. "He dares to put his hands on you, violating you in such a way. I ought to castrate him for this!"

"I'd like to see you try," Sebastian spat. He adjusted his stance.

"Stop it, both of you!" MC had thought herself in a mess before, but this, this was something else.

"I knew it! I knew he was going to do something like this, just from the way he was watching you at dinner. His eyes never left you," William growled. "Disgusting, loathsome piece of trash. You are not worthy of her!"

MC gasped, her body moving to guard Sebastian. He was more than capable of looking out for himself, but she couldn't help it. Out of the two, she would jump in front of Sebastian first. Every time.

"Did he hurt you? I've a good mind to call an Officer to deal with this," William said. He was trying to aim his wand around her at Sebastian, outrage twisting his mouth.

He thought Sebastian had attacked her! It had not occurred to William that she had been willing. MC put her hands to her forehead. Oh, Gods, this was getting worse!

"There will be no need for an Officer," she said. She backed up towards Sebastian.

"Don't be ridiculous, MC," William snapped. "Now, step out of the way and let me deal with this filthy heathen."

MC went calm. She straightened, her eyes growing hard as an old fire awoke in her, the part of her that had been a fearless fighter. She backed up further still, her hands feeling for Sebastian and he took hold of one, his wand arm coming over her shoulder, still pointing at William.

William's eyes bulged as Sebastian wrapped his other arm about her waist, holding her against him. "What is this!?"

"Lower your wand," she said, coldly.

William hesitated, torn, but lowered his wand. "MC, you better start explaining this," he said. He looked from her to Sebastian, to the way Sebastian's arm held her protectively. "Did you let him touch you like that?"

William looked horrified, disgusted. MC felt a brief flash of shame, but shook it off. "I'm sorry, William," she said, calmly. "But, yes, I did."

William's jaw clenched. He stared at her, his humiliation playing out across his face. She swallowed. And then, William looked a little smug. "What will this do to your reputation?" He spoke with an oily undertone. "Oh dear, MC, rutting with a nobody in the street. Of course, how could I marry such a harlot? Your name will be a shameful piece of gossip whispered in parlour rooms. I expect it would be highly unlikely that the Minister would appreciate such behaviour. Such a shame to lose your pathetic little job over it too."

"You wouldn't," she gasped.

Sebastian moved his mouth closer to her ear, the warmth of his breath brushing her hair gently. "Let me take him," he whispered. "It would be my pleasure."

And he could do it, she knew he could. She had seen him kill before, just as he had seen her kill. She had covered for him, lied, to save him from Azkaban. She did not make that choice only to see him sent there anyway, and for her honour.

William shook his head in distate. "You would honestly choose him, over me?"

Her hand gripped Sebastian's arm, holding it against her stomach. "I love him," she said. There was no doubt, no faltering in her words. It was the truth at last. "I always have, ever since I was a girl."

She heard, and felt, Sebastian's breath hitch, and his arm tightened around her. She hoped with every fibre of her being that he felt the same way, otherwise she was making a monstrous fool of herself.

William flinched at her confession as if she had slapped him. He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head, and then his wand flicked upwards, a spell shooting from the end of it. His face pure rage.

But, Sebastian was ready. He blocked the spell with ease, and cast Bombarda in return, sending William flying across the street into a stack of crates. The crash echoed across the cobbles and MC gasped. "Sebastian!"

"It's alright, I've got you," he said. "I've got you."

She sagged against him. "Don't let me go," she whispered.

And then the world spun, blackness, and with a pop, they landed onto a wooden floor. MC sat up, disoriented, gazing around. Her stomach still catching up with her after Apparating.

She turned to look at Sebastian. She recognised where they were. It was his cottage in Feldcroft.

She was sitting on the floor with Sebastian, in his home, just the two of them. She had admitted that she loved him. The weight in her chest had lifted. The enormity of the whole evening crashed over her and the tears gathered in her eyes. Her lips trembled, and then she was sobbing.

Immediately, Sebastian pulled her into his arms, kisses rained down over her hair, her face. His lips kissed the tears from her cheeks and his hands soothed her, calming strokes on her arms and hair. "It's alright, you're safe here," he murmured. "You never have to go back there, to him. It's alright now."

She pulled back to look at him, her hand moving to his cheek. It was real. He was real. "You were gone," she sobbed. "You left and I thought I might never see you again."

His face was pained, his eyes regretful. "I had to leave, get away from this house. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

She buried her face into his shirt, clutching him tightly. "I can't believe you're really here."

"I would have taken you with me if...if I had known..." He faltered and took a breath. He leant his chin on top of her head. "Did you mean what you said back there?"

She nodded. "Every word."

He groaned, squeezing her tighter. "Gods, the time we have lost. Years apart...I should have taken you with me."

She looked up at him. "We still have time," she said. She hesitated. "We could have the rest of our lives."

Their gazes locked. "I've always loved you," he said. "I thought it was only in my dreams that you felt the same way."

She shifted up and put her forehead against his. She huffed a laugh. "We're both as bad as each other. Ominis was right, we are a right pair of idiots."

"I won't tell him you said that, he would be far too smug," Sebastian grinned.

He took her left hand and pulled the huge diamond from her ring finger. "Let's get rid of this shall we?"

"I should return it," she mused.

"Not in person you won't," he said, firmly. He twirled the ring thoughtfully. "Wait here."

He climbed to his feet and moved towards a chest in the corner. He rummaged through it until he found a small box and returned to kneel on the floor beside her. He flipped the lid and turned it to face her. "This was my mother's," he said.

MC looked at his face, surprised to see him looking so shy. She couldn't recall a time she had ever seen Sebastian shy. Then, she looked in the box. Inside was a silver ring set with a pretty emerald, a tiny diamond each side of it.

"It's not as big as the one you were wearing," Sebastian said.

"It's beautiful," she said immediately. And it was. Not flashy, not heavy, not a statement. Beautiful, and sentimental to him.

"Would you wear it?" He asked. She met his gaze, lips parted. "As my wife."

He honestly had to stop stealing her breath like this, it really couldn't be healthy for a girl.

He smirked, his eyes playful. "You could come and see the world with me. I think it might look even more beautiful with you beside me."

She smiled. "How can I say no to that?"

"Quite easily," he said. "But I would rather you said yes."

She looked down at his mother's pretty ring and held out her hand, fingers spread a little. "I suppose you had better make sure it fits then."

His fingers shook as he took the ring from the box and slipped it on to her finger. Of course, it was a perfect fit. He smiled. "It's like it was waiting for you."

She took hold of his shirt front, fingers gripping hold of him like she had back in Hogsmeade. "Now, where were we?" She asked.

His lips curved into that delicious smile she loved so much. "Allow me to refresh your memory," he said.

His mouth claimed hers as if he never intended to stop, and she didn't want him to. Ever.

Click HERE for part 2

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #blueraineshadows

255 notes · View notes

no-quit-lucy · 5 months ago

Note

Tim realises Lucy has a crush on someone at work but doesn't realise it's him

Takes place early season 4. Rated T wc: 2,753 read on ao3

Tim had the day off. Tim was supposed to have the day off. Tim was not getting the day off.

It was a slow day at Mid-Wilshire. Dare he (not) say quiet, there was no reason for him to come in on his day off.

Except Sgt. Johnson had gotten food poisoning at brunch, (really?— who kept letting Smitty pick the restaurants?) and Tim was called in to cover the rest of his shift.

He quickly changed into his uniform and contemplated how his day could go. He could pull Lucy from her current duty— she was working, likely on patrol with Nolan or milling around the station— or he could sit his ass down at a desk and wait for someone to need him. Lucy wasn't his aide every day, but most days, he pulled her help because, well, because they worked well together and despite what he said and how he acted, he enjoyed her company.

Leisurely making his way over to the detectives’ desks, Tim wanted to check in with Angela to see if she was working on anything particularly interesting. As he approached, he saw Lucy hanging over the half wall that separated her desk from the walkway. She was animatedly discussing something with Angela (though, when wasn't she animatedly discussing something with someone?)

“I know what you're going to say, Angela, that it doesn't matter that we work at the same station, I like him and I should go for it— but that's just it. We do work together and I don't know if I—” Lucy cut off at Angela’s insistence.

“Hey Tim, I thought the game was on today,” Angela said as he got closer.

“It is,” he frowned, curious about who Lucy was talking about but not wanting to pry. “Johnson got a case of the Smitty’s.”

Lucy and Angela reacted appropriately, grimaces etched in their facial expressions.

“I gotta go, Angela. We’re still on for drinks after shift?” Lucy asked, tapping her hands on the top of the half wall.

“Unless my sitter suddenly drops dead, I won't miss it!” Angela waves off Lucy and directs her attention to Tim.

He's still frowning, watching Lucy rush away.

“Lucy likes someone who works here?” He asked, pointing down to the station’s floor. His voice ticked up an octave and he hoped Angela didn't call him out on it.

“Come on, Tim,” Angela cast down her eyes at him, a classic Lopez look that meant she thought he was an idiot for asking.

“Is it Webb?” He asked, squaring up his shoulders and trying not to think about why Lucy having a crush on someone they work with was making him physically itchy.

***

Lucy’s voice came over the radio talking back and forth with dispatch. Tim was utilizing his overtime to catch up on paperwork and listening to the radio while he worked helped get his body to sit still.

Until he heard Lucy use that voice when requesting additional information from the guy on the other end of dispatch. Her flirty voice that she admitted to using when the lines were busy and she wanted her information first.

Just like he had his deal with Nell, Lucy had cultivated her own relationship with Kevin from dispatch.

Kevin, who Tim knew had a lot in common with Lucy, who willingly bent to her request because of the puppy dog eyes he gave to her anytime Lucy stopped by to give him a thank you gift when really, the gift was Kevin getting to talk to Lucy at all. The worst of it all, Tim knew Lucy turned up her charm to avoid getting attached to boring calls and pushing her down the queue.

Tim squirmed in his seat as he heard her overzealous thank yous and pleases, knowing the sharp bite of her breath when she uttered them while sitting two feet away in his shop. How much he itched to hear that sultry tone directed at him. He wondered if it might be Kevin, whom she had a crush on. It could be anyone who worked in the station. Anyone.

***

Later, Lucy came in from an arrest and Tim was sitting at his desk filling out (different) paperwork. He knew the promotion came with more paperwork, he just also wished it came with more action. Being a field sergeant was less exciting than a training officer and he was starting to miss his old title and duties.

He saw the taco truck bag gripped in Lucy’s hand. The one that was only open for an hour at a time since they sold out so quickly. The taco truck that he and Lucy had dubbed his white whale— he'd been trying to track down an order since before Lucy’s rookie days. He grinned as she made her way toward him with the bag in tow, eyes shining bright at the thought that maybe Lucy liked him more than she let on. How kind of her to act as his Queequeg and help him harpoon his whale.

“Davis!” Lucy called out as she resolutely passed by his desk, not even sparing him a passing glance. “I got La Brea bites! Wanna share?”

Shit, Tim thought, maybe Davis is the guy Lucy’s got a thing for? He shrugged it off the best he could, trying not to take it personally that Lucy didn't want to share her tacos with him.

***

Travis, who worked in motor pool, always chatted up Lucy when she went to pick up their shop. Slightly bitter about the tacos, Tim pulled Lucy to join him on the call he got that interrupted her from finishing eating with Davis.

Boy howdy was that a mistake. Tim had to stand and watch as Travis flirted and made Lucy laugh. He couldn't drop the bags that he had grabbed until Lucy got the keys and unlocked his shop.

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to yell Boot! And have her get a move on. Instead, he glared as Lucy took a step back and covered her mouth, she was laughing so hard at something he said. Tim couldn't see his face, but he could tell by the young man’s posture that he wanted to punch his lights out.

Not tolerating the scene a moment longer, he barked out, “Chen!” and Lucy turned, fluttered her hand, and then said goodbye to Travis with an all too friendly touch on his arm.

With all these young, attractive, male coworkers to pull her attention, Tim couldn't tell which one had caught her eye enough to gossip with Lopez about it… Who the hell did Lucy have a crush on?

And why the hell did he care so much?

***

Coming back to the station for meetings, Tim needed a pot of coffee or a shot of whiskey, but since he was still on duty, a pot of coffee would have to do.

He made his way to the break room, overhearing Aaron’s boisterous laugh and slowing his gait. Softer, he heard Lucy’s snort and knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but they should know; there's no expectation of privacy in a police station.

Deciding to let the curious devil on his shoulder win, Tim leaned forward to overhear their conversation.

“Come on, I want to guess,” came Aaron’s voice.

“You haven't been here long enough to have a guess,” Lucy retorted back, sassy and playfully rude.

“Let me test my skills then! Harper’s always saying you gotta be able to read people’s behavior like that—” Tim heard Aaron snap his fingers on the last word.

“Okay, I'll be your judge; guess away,” Lucy relented.

Tim could see in his mind’s eye the way she would have swished her hand in the air.

“Officer Tanaka in k-9?” Aaron said.

“No, but I can see why you'd guess; Kojo has a crush on his dog— she's so sweet.” Lucy gushed.

Tim rolled his eyes at Lucy through the wall, she talked about Kojo like he was still her dog. But that explained why Lucy was always bugging him to let her take Kojo to the k-9 doggy playgroups.

“Okay, okay,” Aaron hummed in thought, “Lieutenant Signh, he’s not on patrol anymore, right?”

“No, he doesn’t, but he works on patrol,” Lucy let slip.

Tim could tell she didn't mean to reveal that from the sound of her hand slapping over what he could only assume was her mouth.

“Ah okay, I got it. It’s obvious,” Aaron cooed.

“Oh is it now?” Lucy taunted.

“Yeah,” Aaron responded, “Everyone knows you have a thing for—”

“Tim!” Sergeant Grey shouted down the hallway.

Tim startled and turned, trying to shake off getting caught loitering.

Grey just tapped his wrist for the time— Tim had to fill in on Sgt. Johnson’s meetings for the day too. Luckily there was only one and Tim could spend the time distracted trying to fill in the name that Aaron was about to reveal Lucy obviously had a crush on.

***

“Hey, I invited Julius to join us,” Lucy told Angela as she once again stood at her half wall, this time dressed out of her uniform.

Tim observed her briefly, her long hair cascaded down her back, over her bright orange leather jacket. She wore tight black jeans and boots and as quickly as he had looked, Tim steeled himself and looked away. It was improper for him to stare at his subordinate officer’s ass. No matter how much he thought in a perfect world, they didn't live there. He lived in the real world, and in the real world, nothing could happen between him and Lucy because… because… well because of a lot of things. Namely, because they worked together.

That, however, didn't stop Lucy from liking someone they worked with, Tim thought bitterly, even if she was seeking out Angela’s advice on whether or not to act on her crush. The entire day, he hadn't been focused on his work. No, instead, he couldn't get that morning’s interaction off his mind. Lucy liked someone who worked at the station— lucky bastard.

All day, he contemplated each male officer who walked by, wondering if they were the one who had captured her attention, wondering if they were the one Lucy was contemplating risking her career and reputation for– if they were the one Lucy Chen wanted to be with.

In a fit of overwhelming conflicting emotions, Tim walked up to the pair, still in uniform, and asked to join them at the bar.

“I owe you a beer, Lopez,” He said as his reason why he wanted to go. Normally, he skipped out on those outings, especially since his promotion and desire to stay in with Kojo.

Lucy quickly flashed her eyes at Angela who purposefully wasn't looking. With an evil grin, she invited Tim along, promising to see him at the bar.

Tim changed out and walked to his car, hoping he wouldn’t regret his decision.

***

“Why are you in such a pissy mood, Bradford?” Angela asked as she passed him his order from the bar.

“I didn’t have lunch,” he grumpily replied, yanking the checkered basket toward him and digging in.

Truth be told, he was so bitter about the tacos that he skipped eating altogether. Why the hell was he letting Lucy get to him like this?

“I saw Lucy got tacos from that taco place you keep talking about,”

“Oh! La Brea bites!?” Lucy interjected, coming back from the bar with the drink she carefully watched get mixed. “I was their last customer today, and it was so good, totally worth the hype. Their homemade tortillas were incredible. Tim, I would have gotten you some but they only had their vegetarian tacos left and they use mushrooms as the protein so I knew you wouldn’t be into that, nor would you respect me if I had my chance to try it and didn’t, so sorry, not sorry!

Tim stared frozen during her entire spiel. He was used to Lucy rambling, but he hadn’t encountered a relaxed Lucy rambling in a while and honestly, it took him back. Then he suddenly remembered Davis was vegetarian and had a plethora of other dietary restrictions that needed to be observed when sharing community meals. That’s why Davis got the extra tacos and not him.

“Oh,” he finally said.

Then a group of officers, Julius included, showed up at their table and stole Lucy away to hang out. A hot shot like Lucy Chen was sure to be the center of attention, Tim had no doubt, just hits of jealousy that he wasn’t on the top of her list.

“Oh, I don’t think you not having lunch is what has you in a pissy mood at all,” Angela goaded, crashing into Tim’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim grumbled, shooting lasers at the way Julius stood close to Lucy to hear what she was saying over the loud atmosphere in the bar.

“Lucy has a crush on someone and it’s killing you,” Angela commented, stealing food from his plate and sipping her beer.

“No, it’s not,” Tim denied.

“Tim,” Angela raised her brows, “I heard you growl when Hernandez helped Lucy get that box from the top shelf earlier today,”

“I did not,” Tim lied. It was reflex, the step stool was right there.

“Look how tense you are now! Julius has a partner and you’re acting like his close talking with Lucy is a betrayal to the nation. They’re just friends.”

Tim sat back in the booth and rolled his eyes, pushing the basket of crumbs away. He tried to relax, he really did, but then he looked over to check on Lucy and saw her close dancing with Mateo, who he knew was single and on the prowl… Guys still talked in the locker room, he couldn’t help but overhear.

He chugged the ends of his beer and roughly shifted in his seat. “I’m not jealous,” He lied, saying more about how much this was bugging him than Angela had asked.

“You don’t know, do you?” Angela realized, wholly and completely.

“Know what?” Tim asked, folding his arms tighter, missing the way Lucy looked longingly at him while his head was turned.

“It’s you, Tim.” Angela nodded, to Lucy.

He widened his eyes and looked back to Lucy. Their eyes met and it was as if Lucy could hear the thoughts inside his mind.

“I need to leave,” Tim announced, breaking the spell and grabbing his jacket as he headed for the street.

“Tim!” Lucy called moments later, stopping him before he made it to his truck.

He didn't say anything as he turned around, just offered her a terse nod.

“Are you mad about the tacos?” She asked, breathless from rushing through the crowd from the back of the bar to catch up with him.

“No,” He scoffed, “I’m not mad about the tacos, Lucy,” He looked down at her, said her name so softly it knocked the wind out of her.

She stepped closer, swept into his current. Tentatively, she placed her hand on his forearm, looking at her touch then sweeping her eyes past his lips and into his crystal blue gaze.

His mouth hinged open, his breathing stilled, his heart rushed faster than a racehorse. Tim offered a touch of his own, bending his arm to pull her closer at her lower back. He looked down at her mouth, angling slightly and gently, tentatively, slowly, carefully pressed his lips against hers.

It was a short and sweet kiss, beautiful and chaste but he knew that's all it could ever be. He pulled back and regrettably took space between them. They couldn’t do this while he was her sergeant and she was his aide.

“Lucy,” He said sadly. His thumb brushed her cheek and she took a step back too.

She knew her answer before she talked to Angela about her crush. She couldn’t be the one to act on it. In a sense, neither could he, so the point was moot. Until one of them got a promotion or switched stations, they would never be allowed to date each other without consequence.

“I know,” Lucy somberly responded, “Drive safe,” she said before turning to walk back to the bar.

Tim waited for her to completely disappear from his vision before getting in his truck and driving home to wait out the rest of his life with his dearest companion, Kojo.

#chenford #the rookie #chenford fanfic #the rookie fanfic #chenford fic #lucy x tim #the rookie fic #tim x lucy #lucy chen #jealous tim bradford

29 notes · View notes

adventuresinteyvat · 2 months ago

Text

As of 9/18/2024, we are looking for:

✦ Cyrus ✦ Dehya ✦ Dori ✦ Dunyarzad ✦ Kasala ✦ Layla ✦ Naphis ✦ Nilou ✦ Rahman

We also accept other Sumeru NPCs not listed. If you’re interested in a SFW 18+ Genshin Impact Discord RP, check out our pinned post for more information!

#genshin impact #genpact rp #genpact roleplay #genshin rp ad #rp ad #gi dehya #gi dori #gi layla #gi nilou #mod lector bookkeeping!#not at the desk currently! ✦ queueing

7 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months ago

Note

WIBTA for not getting my coworkers holiday gifts?

Sorry in advance for the long ask, I have adhd so I'm not always great at figuring out what's relevant to the topic lmao. I (29M) have been working at my current workplace since I graduated college (so ~7 years). For the first few years I worked pretty much alone. I have a close working relationship with my supervisors, and I have a lot of interns filter through, but I was the only person at my 'level' of work, if that makes sense. I would write cards for my supervisors, and with my interns I would do something like bake cookies for everyone, or take them all out for dinner (to clarify I always have at minimum 3-4 interns, I wasn't just taking someone I was in charge of out for a one on one dinner lmao).

Last year, four more people were hired who work in the same position/level as me (early 20s-mid 30s, all F). I get along with them alright as coworkers, but they are all much closer with each other than I am with them. They didn't know eachother before starting here, but I make a lot of effort keeping distance between my work and personal life, vs they have all become friends outside of work. I also have enough issues with them that I wouldn't want to be friends with them outside of work (very condensed version is that I am openly aroace and they are Weird about it). I am firm about keeping boundaries/distance though and that makes it easier to deal with them.

Again, we work together really well when we're actually talking about work-- it's just the non-work stuff that I don't really vibe with. Also, their level of friendship is very normal in our workplace/field, since we are in a very very rural area where the tiny little town we're in is almost entirely centered around the one industry/company that we're at. The fact that I'm not friends outside of work with my coworkers gives me a reputation for being weird/cold (but I don't care if I seem weird as long as it means I can keep some distance).

Last year, we all talked about Xmas gifts, and decided that we wouldn't get each other anything, but rather just pitch in for some wine and fancy pastries for a mini office party. It was nice, except then right before Christmas I found a gift on my desk from one of them (like, a 50$ gift, which is quite expensive considering how much we make). I asked her about it, saying I appreciated it but didn't have anything since we agreed not to get eachother gifts. She said something like she didn't expect anything, just wanted to get me something. I thanked her and but was uncomfortable enough that I ended up giving the thing to a friend of mine (who knew it was a re-gift and was happy to have it lol). I didn't plan to get anything, except then I found out that the other three had all consequently gotten eachother and me gifts as a result of her. I talked to the one coworker I get along best with, and she agreed with me that it would now be rude to not give anything in return, so I just got everyone relatively impersonal gifts (books).

However, finances are tight this year for me (coworkers don't know that) due to some medical bills. We are doing an office cookie exchange, and again agreed not to get each other gifts, but one of them (same one who started this last year) hinted that she had 'a little something' for each of us anyways, but no need to reciprocate.

If it's relevant, we are in the US, all white, and all varying degrees of atheist/agnostic/ex-christian.

No idea if this will even get out of the queue before Xmas lol but: WIBTA if i stuck to our agreement to not get my coworkers Christmas gifts, even if they get me gifts anyways?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

51 notes · View notes

lowkeyrobin · 5 months ago

Note

Hey! So if you're writing ghostbusters things right now (apologies if you arent, my Tumblr is acting up and it's not letting me see some of the fonts its just squares 😑) anyway I would love to request a podcast x reader of you're up for that because the dude does not get enough love 😔😔

I was thinking like the reader was childhood friends (mayyybeee first crushes?) but the reader moved to NYC and is now a regular at rays occult and now meets the reader again? What do we think?

Anyway hope you write this and have a GREAT day/night 😊

it's okay!! my requests r open as long as my mailbox is available haha, can't rlly stop ppl from requesting if it's still up so yeah dw ; but yeah of course! this actually sounds rlly fun to write lol ; have a good day/night to you too! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy :) ; also since we don't know much about podcast I kinda made some stuff up, I've watched both afterlife and frozen empire at least 3 times each so... hopefully I gathered all the canon podcast lore idk ; also reqs back open! gonna post the rest of the queue then work on anything yall send

PODCAST ; i think we're alone now

summary ; a little childhood best friends/first crushes reunite at rays occult books

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; we don't know a whole lot about podcast so I made some a lot stuff up lol ; also I'm just using Logan's name as podcasts legal name bc idk what else to call him + I just use actor names to fill in names in other movies/shows

track ; i think we're alone now ; tiffany

word count ; 1k

masterlist

Your first crush was silly and dumb, being on your at-the-time best friend, Logan, or Podcast, as he was now mostly known. He always had a fascination for film and commentary, no wonder he had his own podcast.

You'd recently moved to New York, surprisingly, where Podcast also lived these days. You reconnected over social media and found out you'd be living near each other again like the good old days, and decided to meet up once you got comfortable in the new environment. And that's what had happened. You now await his arrival at Ray's Occult Books, where you skim through the bookshelves, reading each spine to see if any title jumped out at you.

The bell above the door jingles, causing you to look up to see who it is again. Him, thankfully.

He scans the store, looking for you. Ray nods his head toward you, leading him right to you.

He smiles as he approaches, stuffing his phone in his jorts pocket. "Hey"

"Hey," you reply, a soft smile pulling on the corners of your lips.

"Uh, how are you?" He asks, clearly struggling to make conversation.

"Good, I like your outfit," you reply, pointing out his colorful collared shirt. Even now, it reflected his curious and extroverted personality.

He glances down at his shirt, having forgotten what he was even wearing, "Oh, thanks! Uh, do you wanna go walk around or something?" He asks, glancing over at Ray, staring you two down at the counter.

"Sure"

You end up strolling around the city, catching up and talking about life until you retrieve to the basement of Ray's Occult Books, where Podcast was currently living for the summer. He already told you how he was supposed to be at summer camp and how he'd been consecutively lying to his mom. You already knew that was pretty in character for him. He wasn't great at fitting in and would've rather stayed with people he knew and his other actual friend, Phoebe.

You let some of the mini marshmallow pufts climb all over you, using you like a giant stool. A few use your arms as little slides. Logan takes a picture, framing your goofy smile while another mini puft jumps off your head and onto your shoulder.

A few slide down your left arm back onto the desk, then use your right hand as an elevator to go again. As you hoist a little group back up to your shoulder, Logan is now recording on his phone, laughing behind the camera.

"They're so cute," You happy-pout, looking at him for a moment.

Oh, how he wanted to pull the Uno reverse card on you with that, but he couldn't. He thought about it far too long, then backed out because he was too scared, but told himself it was just to late.

You look around his room, two of the little pufts sitting on your head like Remy in Ratatouille. You note all the posters and little trinkets and things around the room, making a weak assumption that he just liked collecting little random things.

You notice the orange lava lamp sitting on his bedside table, turned on, and providing an orange glow throughout that corner of the room. It shines off the side of Logan's face, creating an omniscient kind of glow that you can't look away from.

Denying you still had a crush on him would just make this even worse.

He looks back at you after saving the video to his photos and putting it in his Friends and Shenanigans folders, catching you quickly looking away. He raises an eyebrow, seeing your slightly jittery movements as you use your hand as an elevator for the mini pufts again. They don't keep it a secret though, 'oo'ing and 'ah'ing and bouncing on your shoulders and head.

You can feel your face flushing, attempting to hide it by not looking back at him.

The mini pufts land back on the desk, skattering behind the array of glass jars. You look back at him, seeing he's already looking at you. He's close, closer than you remembered, you felt closer to him, really.

You look down at the mini pufts at your feet, wondering if you'd zoned out as they slid you across the floor. You look back up at Logan, giving you that same soft look you were giving him.

Look, what a funny, simple word. There was no other word for that almost hypnotizing gaze shared between the two of you. There was so much tension. So much so that it was killing the mini pufts. They wanted to shove you into each other to just kiss already.

"I think we're alone now," He quietly speaks, glancing down at the desk where the mini pufts had flee'd from.

The beating of your hearts was the only sound as you pressed your hands against his jawline, his hands slinking down to your waist. You press your lips to his for a moment, then again and again before properly pulling away.

He opens his eyes, a grin painting his face. He pecks your lips once more before he knows you'll say that you have to leave.

"I have to go, I think my mom's waiting outside"

"Okay"

He watches as you stumble up the basement stairs, your face flushed. A smile still tugs at his lips, cheeks a light shade of pink.

The mini pufts come out from hiding and cheer him on, then flick the lights off to reveal colorful LED lights and a disco ball. He sighs with a pout, unable to hide the joy behind it.

"Okay, okay, party's over. We have an episode to record"

#lowkeyrobin #ghostbusters oneshot #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters preferences #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters frozen empire #podcast ghostbusters x reader #podcast ghostbusters #podcast x reader #logan kim x reader #logan kim #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader

41 notes · View notes

jo-harrington · 3 months ago

Text

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 31 - Your Song

Summary: Nothing like a bit of music to get the creative juices flowing on a hot summer night.

Word Count: 855

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Meta, Metafiction, An Illustration of My Mind Space, not quite about a romantic pairing but still a love letter of sorts, 1st Person POV, references to some of my old writing that you'll never find

Note: Thank you to @thisapplepielife for being an excellent host. Any event like this is huge and tedious to organize, and I truly am in awe of how you pulled it off and the tools you put together for everyone to be successful. Thank you!!!

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! And ALL of the wonderful works that have been created for CCFest. (If we do it again next year, you’ll know where to find me.)

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

It’s a humid July night.

I’m on the third floor in a tiny bedroom that used to be for a guest but is now an office full of my shit.

The bed is still there though. Uncomfortable and laden with pillows and stuffed animals.

“Man it’s fucking hot in here,” he says as he flops onto the bed. I’m at the desk, ignoring him as I queue up a song to write this. He’s dressed in his S4E1 best, hair haloing his head. I could be kind to him and change his clothes. But I don’t.

I’m not a merciful god.

“Thanks, oh great and powerful sweetheart,” he deadpans.

“I need you in that outfit,” I tell him as Keane starts ringing through the speakers.

Beeps and boobs of the early 2000s. He groans.

“This song again? How about some real music?”

“This. Is. Music!” I mock him and he pouts prettily. “Come on, this is your song.”

“Uh huh.”

“Its about being stuck, about everyone getting older and changing, and leaving the singer behind.”

He hums and then shifts onto his side, precariously dangling over the edge of the twin bed; he reaches underneath to pull a scrunchie from the bin I shoved under there some time ago.

“Does that sound familiar?” I prompt him a bit more, but he’s too busy futzing with his hair, trying to put it up. He makes a bun about as skillfully as I can, which isn’t great, but he still looks good. Of course he does. “Hello? Asshole? Are you ignoring me or avoiding the truth here?”

I snap my fingers twice in his direction.

“…you can keep playing the song,” he agrees without so much as a glance my way.

So I hit repeat and he nods along to it this time, humming as it goes.

I can’t argue. It’s the closest I’m gonna get to him accepting that it hits home.

And it hits home for him because it hits home for me. We are one in the same, in one way or another. Some things quite literally, taken from source material. Others by my hand—such is the way when you pick a blorbo, you impart yourself onto them.

“Oh here we go,” he groans. “Waxing poetic about fanfiction and fanspaces.”

“You are just as bad you nerd,” I growl at him through gritted teeth. “You play DND! You quote Tolkien and Star Wars!”

The bickering goes on for a minute. Until I decide it needs to stop. He needs to behave if I’m gonna get this done and let him move onto real adventures.

“Maybe you’re the one who’s making me stuck,” he suggests. “What’s that verse? You’re gone from here, soon you will disappear, fading into beautiful light…that should be me.”

I grumble something about another story to him "if I can just finish this!" I need to get the thoughts out of my mind while they're fresh.

What he doesn't know, or maybe what he does because he's imaginary and does indeed live in my head, is that he's always up there. In there in some way, shape or form.

He's lucky to get the real estate, and there's such a vast amount of it, because the Kingly figure that used to occupy all of my thoughts is currently retired. Has been ever since June of 2022.

Eddie Munson is stuck.

Everybody changes and he just stays the same.

But he doesn't, actually.

In the worlds I make for him, he grows up, he travels the world...he actually does get stuck in a few of them and I will apologize to him profusely before I give him everything he ever wants.

That is my promise to him, my dedication to him, to give him every future that he deserves but will never get in canon--or might never get; whose to say, the damn show isn't done yet even though his asshole actor seems to be done with him--until I can't anymore. Because that is my lot in life as a fanfiction writer. That is all of our lots in life, to continue where the ones who created him left off.

Not because I wish I had him, even though I wish I did, but because it's what he deserves.

I let Thorin win the crown of Erebor. Let him grow old in the Shire with Bilbo. And I could have let him have forever with Lukhudin, had Eddie not walked into our lives.

But because he's here now, I will give Eddie everything. A thousand lifetimes. He'll never be stuck again.

"If you could just," I turn to him, "cooperate for me please?"

He purses his lips, furrows his brow, and then waves a hand dismissively.

I try to turn back to the computer, try to finish this entry.

But he stops me.

"Tomorrow..." he pauses and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. "Tomorrow can I try that Mountain Dew Code Red you were thinking about the other day?"

And I can't help but laugh.

"Of course you can Eddie," I tell him. "Of course you can."

#corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson #eddie munson fic

16 notes · View notes

rosewaterandivy · 1 year ago

Text

2. make plans to break plans

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumass reader

Warnings: no use of y/n - reader goes by Trouble instead, depictions of high school, cursing, dumb group chats & contact names, references to Vine memes, mention of a broken engagement, sad girl hours

A/N: Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance. Here’s 3.1K of Steve and Reader’s ~feelings~; feedback and reblogs are appreciated, enjoy!

series masterlist

previous || next

Then - Fall term, November

The end of the day finds you hunched over your keyboard, furiously typing back a reply to some helicopter parent. You blow out a puff of breath and hit ‘send’ as your door creaks open.

“Hey,” Steve greets pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He sets his hydroflask down on your desk with a clang and leans against a nearby desk. “You ready?”

“Yeah, gimme just a sec,” you say, logging off for the day. Turning back to your desk, you give him a small smile and shove a few things into your backpack. On Tuesdays and Thursdays the two of you worked at Tiger Library, aka extended tutorial sessions in the library. The extra pay was decent and it allowed you both time to keep up with any grading or lesson planning that had gone neglected during the week.

You rearrange a few items on your desk before swiping a stack of essays to hopefully grade. Steve hits the lights after you, while you nudge the door open with your hip, elbow pressing down on the door handle and balance a backpack dangerously close to slipping from your shoulder.

“Gimme,” he tuts, index finger looping around the strap sliding from your arm, “S’okay, I got it.”

You hum in assent, turning to take the stairs down to the first floor, Steve hot on your heels. “Thanks,” you try to keep your voice level and impassive passing through the corridor. Steve keeps a respectful distance as you stride through the doors of the library.

Something is wrong, but he can’t guess as to what. You’d been off all week; since your weekend bender, really. Nance had dropped you back at The Hideout to get your car and once she’d returned she beelined directly to her room and didn’t say a word.

Nancy rarely has such a visceral reaction to anything, so whatever you had divulged to her was enough to crack the surface of her rage. Having been on the receiving end of it before, Steve knows it’s endless.

But the question remains, why haven’t you said anything to him? You’re friends, thick as thieves and have been for god knows how long. Yes, you’re an unfiltered, oblivious dumbass with poor emotional regulation skills, and he hates that at times. But you are his friend; and Steve currently wants to throttle himself for allowing you to go radio-silent for the better part of a week.

He sighs, for what feels like the millionth time today, he’ll let you be.

For now.

Students have claimed tables and chairs for the evening, notebooks and laptops scattered here and there. Chairs pulled up as teens arranged themselves amongst their cliques, catching up on the latest gossip since the final bell rang.

Making quick work of Vickie’s computer you set up shop, decidedly ignoring her post-it reading ‘Dumb & Dumber - don’t mess with my shit!’ Steve slides in the circulation desk behind you, depositing your backpack at your feet. Silently, you prize the post-it from the monitor with two fingers and pass it to Steve who reads it with a snort.

He snaps a quick photo to send to the ‘elite meeting’ group chat and tosses it into the trash. Queueing up the collaborative playlist for the night, you call out, “Okay team, this is our final Humanities night at Tiger Library before the fall break, so you know the drill.”

The students turn to the circulation desk, conversations falling to a murmur. Steve crosses his arms and leans back against the built-in bookshelf, he gestures between the two of you with his index finger, “Ask either of us a math or science question and you will be vacated from the premises.”

A few laughs and snickers ring out here and there.

“Yeah,” you concur, “Harrington will suplex you into next week and I’ll post it to the school’s socials.”

That shuts them right up.

“Furthermore,” you continue, “The collab playlist is live for tonight and if any of you turkeys forces me to listen to anything that would make your friends and parents ashamed to know you,” you pause, eyeing a few kids menacingly, “I will force everyone present to listen to ska for the rest of the session. Got it?”

Steve shudders and shakes his head, “That is not an idle threat, by the way. She’s done it before and it was god awful.”

Announcements made, you and Steve sign off on a few seat-time papers for the credit recovery kids and settle in for the night. You open your texts to find a notification from Eddie in the group chat. Reading through Harrington and Buckley’s responses, you tap out a reply to Eddie’s question.

💫elite meeting💫

bandcamp 👿: why is my paladin not at Hellfire you schmucks?

god’s fav 😎: spill the tea, sis.

dingus 👽: ooh, if he’s breakin out the yiddish he must be pissed!

trouble 👁️👄👁️: it’s like you don’t even read your emails eds.

god’s fav 😎: whaddup, i’m eddie, i’m 28, and i never learned how to fuckin read ✌️

bandcamp 👿: shut up.

During tutorial nights, someone from the group would be assigned to take care of dinner for whomever else was stuck on campus. Nancy had made a laminated chart and stuck it to the loft’s fridge, y’know, like any completely sane person would do.

You huff a laugh and open your insta feed, clicking on the invite in your messages. ‘Steve has invited you to eat at Chipotle today!’ You select your regular order, tacking on some chips and queso for good measure.

After a while, a student shyly approaches the circulation desk with a worn copy of The Catcher in the Rye and a worksheet in hand. You give her a reassuring smile and invite her to take a seat. As you’re reviewing the questions she’s struggling with, Eddie storms into the room searching for Mike.

“Wheeler,” he bellows, startling the students from their conversations, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The student at your side jumps in her chair at the sheer volume of his voice. “Oy, Munson,” you hiss, “Can it!” He fixes you with a perturbed glance and strides over to Mike’s table to tear him a whole new asshole.

Managing to get the students back on track, you talk through the more complex passages of the text with the girl, directing her back to the questions when appropriate, and send her off with a friendly wave.

Returning from his circuit around the library, Steve dramatically slumps into the chair at your side, letting out a long-suffering sigh. He shoves his glasses up to his hair in an effort to scrub at his eyes. “What’s got ya down, clown?”

He blows a raspberry and rolls his eyes at your quip. “See that table by the windows?”

“Yeah,” you nod, noting the giggling group of girls, freshmen, if you had to guess. Sneaking side-long glances at Steve before blushing profusely and turning back to their friends. “Ooh, they seem struck by you!” you tease, letting your voice twang in a southern affectation.

“Don’t encourage them!” he admonishes, “They wanted help with geography, I don’t even teach that,” he sulks.

“Steven,” you gasp, “Don’t tell me you never learned to read a map, you are an educator!”

Steve fixes you with a glance, “I’ll have you know, it all gets very confusing in Europe after the dissolution of the Soviet Bloc.”

“Don’t you teach AP World: Modern?”

“Yeah, you know that.”

“A-are you indoctrinating the students, Steve?” you needle him, earning an exasperated huff in response. “Snowflake,” you tsk reproachingly, “Trigger warnings! War on Christmas!”

The taunting continues until Eddie approaches the desk. With a too-wide smile directed at Steve, you cut your eyes across the library to where Wheeler sits trembling like a leaf.

Mike looks well and thoroughly abashed after whatever Munson just lectured him about. Sinking as low in his seat as he did during the parent conference facilitated by Assistant Principal Bauman. Munson had clearly laid it on thick.

Chains jangling against his hip, he sits on the desk. “Hey there, big boy,” he purrs winking at Steve, causing him to blush and sputter. “Light of my life,” he croons addressing you, “A thousand apologies for young Wheeler there,” he nods at the dejected teen in question, “It will not be happening again.” Raising his voice to a louder pitch, hollers out, “Not on my watch!”

“Yeah,” you goad him, waggling your brows, “On god, no cap?”

He stares at you as if you’d grown another head, and leans down to your level. “What fuckin’ Tik-Tok nonsense is that now?”

A notification pings from someone, Steve probably; grandpa that he is, he refuses to silence his phone like a normal person, no matter how many times you show him the focus or do not disturb function.

He throws his keys at Eddie, who catches them before the ring of metal can brain him in the face. Steve pouts as Eddie jangles them triumphantly walking out the door, “Be back in five, hot stuff!”

Steve sends you an annoyed look, “Please tell me that wasn’t directed at me.”

You take a loud sip from his hydroflask and grin, “No, you’re big boy and I’m hot stuff,” you chide. “C’mon now.” Like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“So,” he mutters escorting you to your car later that evening. “Are you ever gonna spill what went down the other night?”

“Huh,” you kiss your teeth with a wet click, bag slung haphazardly across your arm. “Thought Nance would’ve cracked by now.”

“What d’ya mean?”

You kick at the rocks scattered along the blacktop, refusing to meet his eyes. “Well,” you sigh. A grunt, a huff of breath before you tug at the strap of your backpack and admit flatly, “He, uh, ended it.” You hold up your left hand and wiggle your fingers in proof, and sure enough, no engagement ring in sight.

Steve never truly understood what people meant when they said the phrase ‘seeing red’ until now. Granted, he’d been knocked on the head more than most in his time, but even with the concussions he still had enough sense to know that you were the real fucking deal. And any asswipe that thinks he can do better than you is sorely mistaken.

He should know.

Willing himself not to vibrate with rage, he slings an arm across your shoulders and pulls you to his chest. You sniffle and press your forehead to his neck, he smells clean and comforting like cypress and vetiver with the faintest whiff of laundry detergent.

“M’sorry honey,” he soothes, voice soft and low, subtly rocking from side to side as you fail to stop the tears from falling. “I gotcha, it’s okay.”

Naturally, you completely lose your shit in the school parking lot while Steve holds you. And truthfully, you’re more frustrated than anything because you’d been trying so damn hard to keep it together this week. You thought you’d been doing pretty well, too, until Harrington used his dumb best-friends-forever powers of perception.

Unbeknownst to you, everyone’s been desperately trying to keep their cool.

Nancy was tight-lipped about the cause for your bender last weekend, but occupants of the loft were distinctly aware of how rigidly she held herself after dropping you off. Completely glued to her phone in case you needed anything at all and going so far as to out-law rom-coms for seemingly no reason.

His anger is simmering now, bubbling just under the surface because hell if he’s going to let you see how affected he is. True, he was never the biggest fan of your fiancé, well, ex-fiancé now, but he seemed like an okay guy.

Clearly not.

A wet sob claws its way from your throat as Steve draws you closer, his hand cradling the back of your head. He’s doing his best to comfort you, but there’s only so much he can do in the parking lot of Hawkins high school.

He pulls back briefly to look down at you, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “Wanna crash at the loft?” He asks, voice hushed, as if he’s afraid to spook you. You glance over your shoulder to your car parked a few spaces away, eyes wide and wet.

Steve feels like he’s lost all language. Doesn’t know any words because you’re stuttering, cursing, and sobbing against his chest like he’s never heard before. He’s at a complete loss as he shepherds you toward his car, opening the passenger door and sliding you into the seat. He has to pry your fingers off from the way you’d latched on to his shirt.

As the door closes, he grabs his phone and types out a quick missive to let the roommates know what’s coming.

🫰freeloaders🫰

steeb🖕: nance, a heads up would’ve been nice

bucko 🤠: 👀

nwa 🔪: oh shit.

dumbass🤘 : stop talking in code nerds

steeb🖕 has changed the name of this group from 🫰freeloaders🫰 to 👊 fight club👊

steeb🖕: trouble is crashing with us, it’s bad guys. like, defcon 1

bucko 🤠: isn’t that the lowest level of defcon?

steeb🖕: not the time robs

nwa 🔪: her fiancé broke it off, that’s why she got shitfaced. didn’t want me to say anything until she was ready

bucko 🤠: what a piece of shit

dumbass🤘: i’m gonna need his name and address, ss# is a plus but not a necessity

bucko 🤠: eddie NO

steeb🖕: eddie YES

nwa🔪 has ‘liked’ this message

“Sorry–” you whisper hoarsely, “I’m–sorry–”

Steve’s mouth falls open, so fucking helpless and confused. “There’s no need for that,” he assures you, “You didn’t do anything hon.”

You’ve barely gotten out of the shower, hair damp and dripping on the tiles of the bathroom. You stand in the doorway, dressed in an oversized Warped Tour shirt from ages ago, one bare foot scratching the adjacent ankle.

Steve had to coax you to shower after arriving at the loft, your face puffy, smeared with tears and snot. Once you had been safely stowed in the shower, Nancy went into crisis-management mode. Delegating tasks to everyone in proximity to her and speaking in hushed tones with your parents on the phone.

Robin was in charge of securing a sub for you tomorrow (and, let’s be honest, one for Eddie, Steve, and herself as well), Eddie was researching moving companies and doing some mild internet sleuthing about your ex, just for his own research purposes, which left Steve on babysitting duty.

You start crying again, hiding the tears in your palms and dropping to the floor, curling up. Shit. Shit. Shit. Steve’s losing it. Can’t even keep you happy for two seconds–which he knows is the easiest job in the world because you have attention span of a goldfish and will laugh at anything.

He’s still perplexed when he drops to the floor with you, splaying his legs around your body, wrapping his arms around your back. His shirt is basically soaked through, sopping with your tears but that doesn’t deter you. You burrow into his chest, hands crawling up his shoulder blades, fingertips digging in enough to bruise, and you cling to him like a lifeline. Steve’s chest swells in pain for you, a hurt he feels down to his bones. You’re shaking with sobs and shivery hot in his arms.

Unable to soothe your tears, Steve gets to work and slides an arm down underneath your legs to secure you against his chest. “Okay honey, hold tight,” he breathes, scooping you up as he rises from the cold tile floor. You press your face further into his chest, sinking so deep into his hold he thinks you might fall right into him. Another choked sob as you nod.

He carries you down the hall and into his bedroom, all dark and quiet. Steve lays you down atop his sheets where you continue to sob fitfully, eyes blooming with fresh tears. He reaches over your body, takes the far edge of the sheet and pulls it around, tucking it beneath your back. He does the same to the other side and soon enough, you’re wrapped snugly in its cocoon. Only your head is visible.

And he knows you’re sad, and it’s very fucking real. The kind of sadness he felt when Nancy crushed his heart to smithereens back in high school. That, but times a thousand.

“How’s that?” he says, breaking the silence now that your cries have died down. “Better?”

You blink at him after a while. Your head jerks a few times, eyes pointedly cutting to the open space on the bed next to you.

Steve shucks his shirt, volleying it to the hamper, and slips in chuckling at the way you inch your body closer to his. His arm falls to rest against your hip, “Okay honey,” he whispers over the top of your head, “Better now?”

“Mmhm,” you sigh, pressing your forehead to his chest once more. “Stevie,” you rasp, voice muffled, “Can you stay?”

“Yeah,” he says right away, fingers sketching along your side, a crease of worry forming between his brows. “‘Course I’ll stay honey, long as you want.”

Steve spends another couple of hours with you, settling down in hopes that you’ll eventually drift off to sleep. He pulls a movie up on his phone, something with little emotional labor because you’re more than likely spent for the week. He lays next to you on the bed, propped up by a pillow or two, his free hand tracing calming circles against your hip. After the credits roll, your swollen eyelids begin to slip shut.

He stays for a little longer, just until your breathing evens out and he knows you’re asleep. As gently and slowly as he can, Steve gets out of bed careful not to jostle you awake and makes his way to the living room. Everyone’s awake and lost in their own little world, it’s quiet save for the sound of clacking keys and mouse clicks.

Settling against an armchair, he clears his throat and says, “She’s asleep, for now.”

“How’s she doing?”

He shrugs, because isn’t that the million dollar question. Steve couldn’t begin to guess at that thoughts rattling through your brain. But he tries anyway, “Uh, not great.”

Silence settles around them once more. Steve stares wordlessly at the ceiling and grits his teeth loud enough for everyone to hear. He inhales a deep, steady breath and it feels like the only one he’s taken in hours.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to fall back on a familiar feeling. To push past all the anger and hurt; the tinge of his own failure he tries not to associate with you, struggles to do that most days, too.

Behind the darkness of his eyelids, there is strangely so much light.

A semblance of hope.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #fanfiction #stranger things #reader insert #the kids aren't alright - rosewaterandivy

161 notes · View notes