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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends, but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

2K notes · View notes

keigelsss · 4 years ago

Text

Hard At Work - Kuroo Tetsuro

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!!! it’s really bad. i struggled. i just wanted to get it over with but this idea weighed heavily on my mind for so long and i cant seem to get it out the way i want so this is the bare minimum with what i was trying to go for sorry :/

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, timeskip!kuroo, dom!kuroo, language, teasing, literally half the fic is foreplay oops, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love y’all), kuroo smacks your ass once, sir kink?, SIZE KINK, belly bulge, overstim, squirting, creampie, as always my shitty writing. *thoughts in italics… if i forgot a warning pls lmk*

Summary: you never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, let alone with the man in charge of your paycheck. luckily those files weren’t that important.

word count: 4.7K

You’ve only been working in this position for about two months now, assistant to one of the smartest sports promoters in the country. It’s a wonderful job and you get to meet star athletes almost every day, but what wasn't in the job description was the super hot promoter that you would be working under literally. If you thought it was hard coming into work with someone so damn attractive, the amount of teasing that went on in and outside of the office was insufferable.

Your day began like every other; come in, bring Kuroo some coffee, a full list of the day's meetings and tidy up in his office. While setting the coffee on his desk, you anticipate what comment he’ll make about the lack of a baked good to accompany his beverage.

“Awe Y/n, looks like you forgot to bring something to munch on again,” he was currently going through emails while twirling a pen in his hand. That scheming smirk that you’ve come to recognize all too well plastered all over his smug face.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo, they were all out at the café.” You placed your belongings on the small desk located in the corner of his office, spending some time to go over today's schedule as well as sort through a few contracts and client files.

“It’s all good,” he let out a soft chuckle. “You could always let me eat you instead, shortcake.”

You gave a pointed glare to the man before sighing and closing the file cabinet you just finished sorting. “I think it’s best if we get to work, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, sir.” he sends the smallest smirk in your direction then returns to his tasks. Shit... Did I mean to make it come out like that? Whatever he always teases the ever-living hell out of me so it's about time I had my share of the fun too, it’s only fair. Right?

Most of the day was uneventful, the typical routine coming and going without any interruptions. At around 4 pm though, you found yourself swamped with far more paperwork to go through than usual as well as having to scan and digitally file. We didn't have this many meetings today, did we? I just did a stack like this… Most of these need Kuroo’s signature, they shouldn't be on my desk.

Raising your head you shifted your gaze, letting your eyes land on him. He’s seated only ten feet in front of you behind his desk but today it seems like an entire mile. Did he always look that good going through his messages?

While gathering the papers that were wrongfully in your pile and saying a quick prayer to anyone out there, you walked over to sit in one of the matching seats opposite him. Placing the folder down softly to not mess up the flow of his work. He instinctively moves his elbow away to make room for the file and side-eyes it momentarily.

“Just give me two minutes here and I’m all yours sugar,” he says with a quick smile in your direction.

Humming your response and relaxing into the chair you take the time to admire his features. The messy but somehow put together hair that, according to his long-term clients and friends, has been that way since childhood. The sharp features of his cheeks and jaw, his pink lips permanently resting in his signature smirk that can mean an infinite number of things as you’ve come to find out. A muscular neck that is far too appealing for your taste, broad shoulders leading to strong arms, and an equally muscular chest. It’s no doubt that he is built like a god under that dress shirt, it fits him so perfectly it's almost offensive.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of the man in front of you that you don't even notice how he moves his body, giving all his attention to you.

“Stare any longer sweet girl and you're gonna start drooling all over that cute outfit of yours.” His deep chuckle vibrates through you, definitely causing something to happen deep in the pit of your stomach. Your body was so hot and your throat was so damn dry from the way he was looking back at you. Is he undressing me with his eyes? Fuck! I’m one to talk, I’m doing the same thing.

“Uh it looks like some papers of yours got in my pile, if you can sign them, I’ll finish scanning and get out of your hair.”

You sat up to hand him a pen then rest your palms against the desk. Those pieces of paper are the only thing separating the two of you and it helps you keep a grasp on reality for the time being.

He toyed with the edges of the folder, lifting just the corner, not even bothering to read over the contents. “Yeah, I put them there thinking it would keep you in the office just a bit longer but you caught on to my plan faster than I thought.” He met your gaze with a semi defeated smile.

“You thought I wouldn't notice at all? Kuroo, I thought you were supposed to be the mega genius here because I had just filed all of those this morning.” A sudden boost of confidence ran through your body and your hands found their way to the folder and started mimicking his previous action that, hopefully, would drive him just as crazy as it did you. Your cold fingers delicately traced above his watch then to his forearms, stopping right where he cuffed his sleeves. A small hiss escaped him through his teeth followed by an airy laugh.

“Call it an experiment.” You couldn't help but giggle at his response.

He suddenly moved back, completely reclining and relaxing in his chair. He went to loosen up the tie around his neck and even went as far as to open two buttons on the restricting shirt. Cheeky bastard.

Kuroo cleared his throat. Resting his elbow against the arm of his chair, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “I bet I can tell what you're thinking right now, shortcake,” he continued to roll his chair back slightly.

Without giving a second thought you moved around to his side of the desk, sitting and leaning on the end farthest from him. You conjured up the best comeback your normally shy and reserved self would never think of, but right now, it's war.

“Oya oya? Tell me, boss, what am I thinking right now?” you finally turned your gaze towards him, pulling off the most convincing innocent eyes you had.

He stood up from his seat, taking the slowest steps toward you and stood right beside your small body. His large hands are dangerously close to the edge of your skirt. If he could feel how hard your heart was beating in your chest you’d be done for.

That contagious laughter of his booming throughout the room once more. He’ll never admit it but your teasing words sound a lot like him.

“Well if the way you're clenching the hell out of your thighs right now isn't the biggest sign.” His calloused fingers finally make contact with the exposed skin on your legs and slowly rise to trace the curves of your body. Finding a place to rest on your jaw with his thumb gripping your chin forcing you to look directly at him. “I’d say you're thinking of all the different ways I could make you cum on my desk,” his thumb began to slowly trace your lower lip.

You were barely aware of the small moan you let out while fluttering your eyes closed. “Let's say you're right Kuroo,” you nearly choked on the lack of saliva in your throat. “What else am I thinking?” your response barely above a pathetic whimper.

He let out a happy sigh as he placed his thumb between your lips, pressing slightly to signal you to open up. That sigh quickly turned into a small moan when you let your tongue slip from your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit. Years of hard work and skill evident in the sensation of his thumb pressing against your tongue.

“You’re probably thinking about my cock filling every inch of your tight little pussy,” he moved to stand between your legs, his other hand finding residence on your hip and squeezing the clothed flesh possessively. “Or maybe you’re thinking you might just have the upper hand here because you caught on to my little trick,” he began to mess with the hook and zipper on the side of your skirt. Lowering the piece of flimsy metal agonizingly slow.

“If that’s the case then you're seriously mistaken sweetheart also when it's just us, call me Tetsuro,” he whispered his name in your ear and if you weren't trying to match his teasing energy, you would’ve made the first move but the build-up was so much better.

He finally let go of the zipper on your skirt and began to pull it slowly down your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. He slowly removed his finger from your mouth and trailed any lingering saliva along your bottom lip and down your jaw before his hand found comfort around your neck, offering the softest squeeze, eliciting yet another breathy moan from your lips. If only you knew how much those sounds of yours were causing him to short circuit.

“Tetsuro. If there’s anything I know very well, it's my place in this office.” You kept steady eye contact while attempting to squeeze your thighs together.

Kuroo noticed your struggles and continued to strip the skirt from your body. Your lower half was beginning to burn with anticipation. His long fingers then traced the outline of your panties, if he looked any closer he would see the little wet spot forming right at your entrance. He lightly pulled on the thin material and snapped it back against your body, a small chuckle rising from deep in his chest because of how cute and responsive you are to his actions.

“And where is that exactly?” He can't help but tease you, even though his cock is absolutely suffocating, he still wants to make sure you know who’s in charge.

“I'm an employee on your payroll, aren't I?” your voice was so soft, focusing more on steadying your breathing. He began to run the back of his hand along your hip and grazed his knuckles against the area that you ache for him the most, a throaty sigh escapes you and some of that newfound confidence as well. Where the hell did she come from?

“It only makes sense that my position is under you.” Kuroo is slightly surprised by your response but he can tell that you’ve had enough of his teasing just like he’s had enough of having to come up with new ways to fluster you. Now it seems that all his prayers are being answered, he finally has you to himself all alone in the office, and there’s only one thing on his mind after hearing the words slip from your lips. “That’s definitely the right answer, but I hope you don’t mind if I spend some time on you first?”

His fingers were now pulling the fabric of your panties down and off your body, he never breaks eye contact, rubbing his hands all over your legs and occasionally squeezing your soft skin. He finally returned to eye level and placed both hands on your cheeks, bringing you in for a hot and desperate kiss. He managed to push you further onto the desk so you can rest comfortably, the cold sensation of the wood on your bare skin forced a tiny gasp to escape.

Kuroo began to play with the buttons of your blouse, pulling on the material. By the time he gets to the last button, you’re halfway done removing his, finally seeing the strong body underneath it all. Hot. Once he had you completely undressed he took a single step back. Biting his lip and admiring your body.

“You’re so god damn sexy.” He came back to you, hot mouth leaving kisses all over your neck and chest. He spent some time on each of your breasts, sucking and biting on your sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hands hooked under your knees and spread your legs. You're practically dripping onto his desk by now and can’t help but grind your hips against nothing, desperate for some sort of relief.

“Someone's a little needy, huh?” his breath was hot against your stomach and fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. Once he got on his knees in front of you, his fingers found their way to your throbbing center. Slowly parting your folds and massaging your sensitive hole with perfect pressure. “Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ wet too,” with his other hand he used his thumb to play with your clit. You threw your head back, letting out a soft moan as you made contact with the desk below.

Kuroo wasted no time putting your legs over his shoulders, leaving wet kisses along your thighs and placing several on your hips. He finally placed a kiss on your clit, causing you to yelp and buck your hips against his face. “You taste better than I imagined baby girl,” he licked a stripe through your folds, then sucked on your clit softly. “Mmm it feels so good!” you’re a moaning, whimpering mess already. Kuroo has to use his hands to keep you still but he’s humming happily while lapping up all you have to offer him and you can't help but shake. “Am I making you feel good, pretty girl? Your cute little pussy is so sensitive huh?” his tongue was replaced with one of his fingers gathering up your slick and slowly entering you.

“Yes yes fuck I love it. I want your cock. Please.” you looked at him through lidded eyes sucking your bottom lip harshly in between your teeth. He can't help but smile at how cute you look begging for him. “Relax baby girl, we’ll both get what we want but I gotta work you up a bit more.” He added another finger curling them a little to find your sweet spot, while sucking on your clit. He knew he found it when you squeezed your thighs around him and called out his name. Your walls twitching around his fingers, reaching your first climax of the day.

He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, sucking off every bit of your juices, moaning in sheer delight. Another kiss was placed on your clit before he began a trail of them to your neck and jaw, teeth sinking into your skin. One of his hands caressed your cheek as he kissed you on the lips, your taste and his hot breath sending another wave of arousal through you and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna make you cum with my tongue one more time okay sweetheart?”

You wanted to whine and throw a fit but his mouth was magical and you weren't one to complain. With a small ‘okay’ and another kiss on the lips he made his way to your pussy once more, already swollen and ridiculously sensitive. He began with the same rhythm as before, soft groans of satisfaction driving you wild. The grinding of your hips against his face only became more violent when he added his long fingers. Finding that same spot as earlier.

“F-fuck oh fuck I’m gonna cum!” you arched your back off the desk and brought a hand to your chest massaging squeezing your nipples. The only thing you hear before your orgasm rips through you is the loud squelching of fingers inside your pussy and his moans of praise. When you open your eyes and finally come back to earth, you see Kuroos face, hand and wrist covered in your juices. “I haven't even fucked you yet and you squirted just like that? You're gonna be the death of me Y/n.”

You giggled a little, hiding your face in embarrassment, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Of course that smart mouth of his is sinfully skilled. He moved your hands out of the way, intertwining his with yours, lifting you and pulling you into another kiss.

You let go of his hands running yours along his toned chest, leaving small scratches, quickly removing his belt and slacks. You squeal at how big he looks in his boxers, his cock begging to be free. Pulling the waistband down and letting it drop to his feet, you moan at the sight. A small bead of precum forming at the tip, now an angry red from being neglected for so long. “I wanna make you feel good too Tetsu.”

Before you can drop to your knees for him he puts his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles. “Next time gorgeous, I wanna feel you right now.” he lifted you off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist and lips meeting in a sloppy mess of teeth and tongue. One of his hands made their way to your ass, squeezing softly before landing a smack. You moaned in response and ground your hips against his throbbing member, the tip creating glorious friction against your folds. He finally placed you back on the desk then fisted his cock a few times, running the tip against your folds and teasing your entrance.

“Want you inside me now Tetsuro. Please.” your chest was heaving in desperation and he loved that he made you like this. “Okay sweet girl. If it’s too much let me know.” You gave him a small nod and he kissed you while letting himself slip inside your warm walls. You were already so wet from before but he was so long and thick that the intrusion was slightly painful.

“Holy shit! you’re so damn tight.” he says through gritted teeth.

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tugging softly on his hair when you feel him bottom out inside you. He lets out a few puffs of air because it's taking all his willpower not to cum with the way your pussy is gripping onto him right now. You let out a few whimpers and he checks your face for any signs of discomfort before retracting his hips and thrusting into you. You make eye contact with him, he’s absolutely mesmerizing with that lusty look in his eye and a small layer of sweat on his forehead.

“S-so big Tetsu. It feels so good.” you squeeze your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to you and he groans in response. He begins to thrust into you slowly, still trying to keep his cool but finding that sweet spot inside you every time. “Oh you're gonna make me cum with the way you are clampin’ down on my cock like that sweet thing.” he shifts the angle of his thrusts and cages your head between his arms. His large upper body casting a shadow over you that makes you shiver. You can see the way the muscles on his forearms and biceps are flexing with every thrust. How he’s looking down at where you two are connected in pure fascination, tugging his lip between his teeth.

Using his arms to push off the desk, he tugs your hips to the edge and keeps his fingers embedded in the soft flesh, meeting each of his thrusts. You lift yourself as well, resting on your elbows and watching him. You notice a small bump on your belly each time his hips meet yours and it's enough to have you roll your eyes back. Holy fuck now that’s different. Kuroo noticed your surprise and pressed a hand against your tummy, making you feel him even deeper if possible.

“I’m right there baby girl. Can you feel it?” You feel as though you're being split open but it hurts so good. His stare and dominating aura so sinful and addictive, you know you're in trouble. “Yes it feels so good. I love your cock.” He feels you fluttering around him and picks up his pace. The sharp sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the office along with his animalistic growls.

“Is that right. You gonna cum on this cock, like a good girl?” his thumb found your clit, working small circles. “Make a mess all over my desk? Let me cum inside this tight pussy?” his thrusts were reaching deep, that bulge in your tummy only looking bigger now. You tried meeting his thrusts halfway, your hand gripped his wrist and you neared another orgasm. “Y-yeah, oh fuck. please. I wanna cum so bad. wanna make you feel good too, sir.”

At the last word you said he thrusted into you once more. your walls fluttering around him bringing his release as well, he hunched over with a groan and found your lips as he spilled his seed inside you. The warmth filling you up and making you feel nothing but bliss. Your ankles locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, keeping him buried inside you while you caught your breath’s.

He pulled away first, watching as his cock slipped from your tight hole, both of you letting out a sharp breath from the sensitivity. His cum followed right after, dripping down onto his desk. The sight of your clenching pussy and the mess was enough to get him hard again. He wants as much as you’re willing to give him. Lifting your upper body he pulls you in for another kiss, this one a bit sweeter.

You pulled away and began kissing his jaw. “I want more.” You said looking up at him with bright eyes. Your makeup is messy but you still look delicious as ever.

He gave you a playful grin and a peck on the lips. “You read my mind gorgeous.”

He spun you around and bent you over the desk, pressing your body into the wood but not enough to hurt. His fingers slowly ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You turn your head slightly so you can see him, right now he looks intimidating as ever. Large muscular body towering over you, one hand gripping your ass and the other teasing the head of his cock along your folds. He can see how your dripping hole is clenching around nothing, your frame trembling from previous orgasms. He's so damn overjoyed that he slips right inside you, not wanting to waste another second outside of your tight pussy.

The stretch that he provided was nothing you've felt before, he was definitely the biggest you’ve been with. You felt every ridge and vein, every twitch, you still feel him in your stomach. Nothing beat how warm he is though, flooding every nerve with heat and electricity.

He set a brutal pace, balls slapping against your clit each time, making you cry out and moan incoherent versions of his name. His left hand gripped your thigh and hitched your leg on the desk, the shift in position causing him to drag the tip of his cock perfectly against your g-spot. “Right there Tetsuro, feels so fucking good.” you ached your back in ecstasy.

The hand he had hooked under your knee creeped up your thigh and rested on your hip. He used the other to raise you off the desk and wrap around you. His warm hard chest pressing into your back and his large, rough palms massaged your tits. You can feel his warm breath on your ear and you shiver when he groans. The deep rumble of his chest crashing into you like a wave.

Hearing his moans right in your ear was like heaven, the feeling of his cock twitching inside tells you he's close. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard. Your little cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside again?” his rough pounding turned into slow, deep strokes. Slamming into your sweet spot with pin-point accuracy.

“Please. Feels so good and I want your cum. Want it in me so bad.” his hand moved to your jaw turning your head, squishing your cheeks and leaving a sloppy kiss against your lips. You brought your arm up, grabbing his face, pulling him closer. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and he growled in response, slow thrusts gaining some more speed.

The hand he had on your hip made its way in front of you, fingers trailing softly against your swollen clit. Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes from overstimulation but you loved every second of it. “I want you to milk my cock, take all your filling like a good little shortcake and make a mess on this desk. Can you do that for me?” you only nod and moan your answer.

The intense eye contact between the two of you, mixed with his hard thrusts and rough fingers, make that tingling feeling in your core seem like the first one all over again. Your head falls back against his chest as your body locks up and shakes uncontrollably, the tight fluttering of your walls brought his release as well.

You can feel his warm load inside as he keeps fucking into you, allowing you both to ride out the intense wave of pleasure. All while massaging your clit, only bringing on another orgasm, making you squirt once more on his hand and desk. Feeling it drip down your legs, surely his too.

Once the rush of euphoria passed, you both fell forward, his cock still inside you as you both caught your breath. You were still quivering with aftershocks of pleasure when he slipped out of you, a mixture of both of your cum spilling onto the floor and down your thighs.

He stumbled back onto his chair and took a deep breath. Hypnotized by the way you’re still spread out for him to see, the beautiful sight of your plump ass becoming something he wants all the time. You finally sit up slowly turning to lean against the desk, legs feeling like noodles. Both of you catching the other staring and letting out a fit of laughter. He reached for your hand and pulled you down on the chair with him to relax, wrapping his strong arms around you.

“So, I was thinking, maybe I should give you a promotion.” he kissed the top of your head and you pinched his nipple teasingly. “Stop fucking around Tetsu.” he smirked and gave you a knowing smirk.

“We just did, sweet heart.” you rolled your eyes and nuzzled into his neck.

------------------------------------------------------

After resting for a while the two of you got cleaned up and dressed, tidying up the office so it didn't look like two people just fucked in it. Once you were done you both stood and looked out the window of his office, watching the sun disappear and the stars start to shine. He made a sound like he just remembered something.

“Do you wanna go out to get something to eat?” he looks at you while putting his coat on.

“I’d love to, I’m starving,” you grabbed your purse and put on your coat as well. “Oh, uh what time is it?” you ask him.

He lifted the sleeve of his jacket, looking at his watch and raising a brow. “That’s weird. My watch is stuck at 4:45.” you look at him in confusion.

A sudden burst of wheezing laughter echoes through the walls and you’re still wondering what’s so funny. He turns to you and looks at your face, melting at how cute and innocent you looked.

“I think you ruined my watch, Y/n.” he brings a hand up to your face moving a piece of hair that was out of place. You can't help but blush at his words, instantly turning away from him and opening the doors to his office.

“Well we’re even now because you ruined any other man for me.” You walked ahead of him in annoyance but he knows it won't last long.

He’ll have you screaming his name again in his bed in no time.

I wonder if he was joking about that promotion though…

———————————————————————

✨stay sexy my friends✨

Taglist: @bobabybo

a/n: if you made it this far... yooo... im so sorry you had to read this. it didn’t tickle the brain the way i wanted and i trashed it like ten times only to go back with what i originally started with but if you liked it and you feel a lil sum ;) lmk i would love feedback or what I could’ve done better. i don’t know what I want to do with this blog just yet but for now its just my thirsts and writings. i reply and like on @keigohoes im just stupid lol.

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rreyie · 4 years ago

Note

SUY for Levi pls!

levi ackerman fluff alphabet- s, u, y

warnings- none

a/n- yupppp! these were actually so fun to write so don’t yall hesitate to put more in the ask box! also once i find a nsfw version of the alphabet thingy i’ll start doing that as well ;)

S is for Support- how do they help their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in then?

levi will push you to your limits until your achieve that goal. he thinks it’s attractive that you have goals in the first place, and wants to help you complete it. for example, if your goal is to kill a certain amount of titans, he will pull you aside for some 1 on 1 training and won’t let you go until you are exhausted and on the verge of passing out. yes, he is aware that he is strict but he is doing it all out of love. and he wants to see you succeed as well.

U is for Understanding- how good do they know their parter? are they empathetic?

levi knows you very well, but sometimes he can lack in empathy. but he tries, he really does. before you two start dating, he tries to collect as much information about you from other people or from things he overhears- like your favorite color, favorite food, etc. once you two start to date, he will constantly watch over you and see how you work- like how your behavioral patterns are, what makes you angry and how to avoid that, maybe even how you think through certain situations. he probably knows you as much as you know yourself due to his observant nature. but in terms of empathy, this is a thing he struggles with. he’s never really been an emotional person and he doesn’t quite know how to comfort people when something happens. when you come up crying to him about something, he is very confused on how to consolidate you. he isn’t exactly amazing at handing venting, but he will sit there and listen to you ramble on and on about whatever is making you mad. but once you’re done, he expects you to be okay and to get back up and keep doing your tasks for the day. if he was the one who caused the problem, he has a very hard time saying sorry. if it comes to that point where you’re not speaking to him, he will mumble to you that he’s sorry for what he said or done, but nothing much more.

Y is for Yearning- how will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

the thought of you going away and never coming back is the one thing that scares levi. so usually, he will go with you just to make sure you’re safe and nothing happens. if you insist he stays back at home, he will reluctantly agree and stay. when he misses you, he becomes a cleaning machine. cleaning is one of his coping mechanisms, and helps him to forget that his favorite person is temporarily gone. he goes through the entire cabin until everything is sparkling clean. after that, he doesn’t quite know what to do. maybe settle down with a nice cup of black tea and a book, but he can’t concentrate knowing you’re not here with him. the tea seems to go cold a lot quicker and the room seems more dim than when you’re here. he will try and sleep it off afterwards. he will sleep on your side of the bed and will hug your pillow because it smells like you, something that levi loves. but tonight his insomnia is really kicking in at the thought that you might not return from your trip. he can’t sleep no matter how hard he tries, so he just lays on your bed until the crack of dawn when he feels it’s an acceptable time to wake up. he will probably clean the entire cabin once more, until he sees your figure in the distance on your horse. he doesn’t often show physical affection, but you’ll be getting a giant hug and kiss to compensate for the lost affection while you’re gone.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot hcs #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #reader x levi #levi attack on titan #aot levi #snk levi #levi ackerman #levi headcanons #levi hc

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theoreticslut · 4 years ago

Text

The Truth that you Deny // Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2

Pairing: Fred weasley x reader x George weasley

Word count: 2,293

A/N: I hope you guys are still liking this - there haven’t been too many notes on the second part compared to part 1. There’s still a couple more parts to this so hopefully you guys are liking it 🙏🏻 ik it’s probably not the best fanfic out there, but for not writing anything like this is literal years I’m pretty proud of it. Let me know what you think & if you’d like to be added to a taglist for it!! Also, the way in which I’ve timed this has it taking place just before christmas so heads up. pls don’t get mad at me for the fact I’m talking about christmas & halloween literally just passed. i didn’t do it on purpose i swear.

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko

Quick recap: you’re friend Stephanie makes the point that you like the twins which you had been denying. After the twins try to get you to tell them who you like, you went quiet for a couple weeks as you have an internal battle between your heart and brain. You all go to a party and you get drunk, spilling a little bit of who you like to the boys. And go!

The next morning you can be found still in bed at 9, meaning you’ve completely missed breakfast, but you honestly couldn’t care less at the moment given you’re still asleep.

For the twins, however, they’d been awake for a couple hours now and knew you’d be grumpy if you had to wait until lunch to eat once you did, finally, get up.

Being the good friends they are, they figured they’d take some food back up to your dorm for you. They figured you’d more than likely still be asleep or at the very least tied to your bed with probably the worst hangover to date.

Upon entering your dorm, George notices you’re still asleep and smiles, motioning to his brother to be quiet. Fred peaks his head in and smiles at you sleeping so peacefully...too bad they were going to ruin it.

“Morning, y/n!” They both yelled as they jumped onto your bed either side of you causing you to fly up from your spot.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake.” You groan when you hit the bed again, you’re head throbbing with a headache.

“You’re both so fucking rude.” You pout, pulling a pillow over your head to try to block out the light and sound of your room.

“Good morning to you too, gorgeous.” Fred teases, laying down beside you.

“Did you sleep well?” George asks, ever so gently lifting the pillow from your head to talk to you.

“I guess. Bloody hell, how drunk was I last night?” You ask, finally sitting up against the wall as they sat either side of you, facing you.

“From what we could tell, you were wasted. Do you even remember anything at all?” George asks, looking over to Fred. Both of them were curious to know if you did, and if so, what. They were sure that you were talking about them being your crushes, but they didn’t want to assume anything in case you had been talking about someone else.

“Uhm....I remember getting there. There was a hufflepuff girl that complimented my outfit. I asked where the alcohol was....and then I believe I was on my...fifth drink when Oliver fell down after downing three butter beers? He’d had a lot beforehand, though.” You chuckle trying to recall the previous night.

“Oliver fell down around 9:30. We didn’t bring you home until after midnight. Do you remember anything else after that?”

You stop and think, frowning as you realize you really can’t. You remember that you were having a lot of fun, but you can’t remember any specific details.

“N-No...I guess I can’t.” You frown looking between the two of them.

They share a moment of understanding as a conversation plays out with just their glances. What they agree upon, however, is beyond your guess.

“I didn’t do anything dumb, did I?” You ask as you stand up, having climbed your way over George’s legs.

You wanted to change and clean off your face, but the thought that you did something humiliating stops you.

“Nothing stupid, no. You were going on about who you like though.” Fred mentions, sharing a look with George as you freeze again.

The twins wanted you to admit who you liked sober so they knew for sure that you liked them, because even though alcohol is supposed to make you speak the truth, it can’t always be trusted. Sometimes you say things just to say them.

“Did I now? Well, what did I say?”

You were worried that you had spilled everything to them as you really have no idea what you did say. If you did spill everything, where does that put the three of you?

“You said they were funny,” he replies.

“Brilliant.” George adds.

“Kind,”

“And absolutely adorable.” They say in sync, smiling at you as you nod, wiping off your makeup.

“Did I mention any names?” You ask, eyeing them through the mirror.

“No, but it’s only a matter of time before we find out who it is, right George?” Fred answers causing you to let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Right, Fred. We’ll be hyper vigilant from here on out. Any guy you talk to we’ll be analyzing from afar.”

“Good luck with that, guys. There’s no way I’m telling you who they are.”

You turn the facet on to begin washing your face more thoroughly.

“We’ll figure it out, don’t you worry.” Fred smiles as they both watch you washing your face.

“What? Why are you both staring at me?” You giggle, a bit uncomfortable.

“You just look really nice in that dress.” George smiles, causing a faint blush to rise to your cheeks.

“You do. You looked stunning last night all dolled up.” Fred agrees.

Again you smile, your blush only deepening as you nod back at them in thanks.

~.~

A few days have passed since the party and luckily, neither of the twins have mentioned much about trying to figure out who your crushes are. As far as you’re aware, they’re looking for two completely different people.

“Good morning, gorgeous. How are you this morning? Steph asks, sitting beside you at breakfast.

“Tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” You state, taking a sip from your coffee.

“Aw, how come?”

You watch as she starts piling stuff onto her plate.

“Too busy worrying about classes again. Had a nightmare that I messed up a potion and singed my eyebrows off, not to mention setting the classroom aflame.” You sigh, taking a bite of toast.

“Why didn’t you just put it out?”

“Well, I did....” you start, smiling at the twins as they joined you.

“But instead of just putting out the fire, I ended up flooding the classroom. Instead of just a smooth stream of water when I cast Augmenti, I somehow cast a whole bloody river.”

“Bad dream?” George asks, after a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, fortunately. I’d be so embarrassed if that happened in life.” You say, shaking your head at just the thought of it.

“There’s no way you could. You’re one of the best witches at the school, y/n.” Fred states, causing a small blush to rise to your cheeks as you thank him.

“Well I’d love to stay and catch up with all of you, but I have some reading I need to do before classes this morning. I’ll see you all in charms!” You say, as you get up and leave.

The twins watch after you as you leave, smiling to themselves as you wave to one of your ravenclaw friends that called out to you.

“So how are you two this morning?” Steph asks, smirking to herself.

“Wonderful.”

“Brilliant.”

“When are you going to tell her?” She asks, looking between the two of them.

“Tell her what?” Fred asks.

“That you guys like her? Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve noticed every time you both look at her when she’s not paying attention and I’ve seen the way you guys smile over her. You seriously look like lovesick puppies.”

“No, your right. We just...we don’t know.”

“We’re kinda waiting for the right time and it just isn’t yet.” George adds.

“You better tell her soon, all the sexual tension at this table is suffocating.”

The twins laugh, but know you’re right. They need to tell you soon.

They kept to their promise and analyzed the body language, and conversations if they could hear them, of you and any guy you have talked to. they’re certain you don’t like anyone else and that you were talking about them. The thought that it still might be someone else, however, worried them.

~.~

At dinner that night, you’re all chatting away when McGonagall stands up to make an announcement.

“Boys and Girls, it’s again that time in the year where I will be getting a list of those staying here over the winter break. I will be taking the end of this week and beginning of next to come around and check bases with each of you. Thank you.”

Slowly the sound of chatter from all tables starts up again. You smile as you turn back to your friends. Christmas has always been your favourite time of year.

“Y/n, you’ll be coming to the burrow again right?” George asks.

“Of course, dummy. It’s my favourite place besides here. Your mum is absolutely amazing.” You smile, giggling as Steph bumps shoulders with you when you said it’s your favourite place.

You know she’s still trying to get you to admit your feelings to Fred and George, but thankfully she’s backed off on verbally saying it.

“Good. Mum loves having you over, doesn’t she Fred?” George smiles.

“Oh yeah. I think she’d be very happy if you were her daughter.” He laughs, a big smile lighting up his face.

“And I mean, we like when you’re over too.” George says, blushing a bit himself as his words bring a blush to your cheeks.

“Of course you do,” You laugh. “You guys just like that I keep your mum from yelling at you two all the time. That and how I sing Christmas carols nonstop.”

Both of them groan and roll their eyes when you say that even though, secretly, they really do love the amount of extra joy you bring to the house around the holidays.

~.~

“Ah! There are my favourite children.” You can hear Molly call as you step off the train after Ginny, Ron, and Harry - Fred and George following after you.

“Oh, you’ve all grown so much since the start of term. Y/n, darling, you’re just as beautiful as ever.” Molly gushes.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. It’s wonderful to see you again.” You smile as you give her a hug.

“You too, dear.” She smiles as you both pull away.

“Come on now, let’s get back to the burrow. Y/n, I could really use your help doing some baking when we get there?”

“Of course.” You smile, picking up your bag that George had carried off the train for you.

“Mum, don’t you think she should get to rest a minute before jumping in to help with preparations?” Fred asks, a bit upset that she asked you so quickly when Ginny is able to help just as much and is her actual daughter.

He’s never liked when people take advantage of you. It didn’t happen terribly often, but usually when it did you never even noticed because you thought you were just helping a friend. You’re extremely kind and helpful, but he’s seen some of your “friends” use you until they get what they were after and then dump you. He’s also seen how much that bothers you when you realize they really weren’t that much of a friend.

“Well, yes. Of course. You all should. Take a moment to unpack and get settled in.” Mrs. Weasley states as you all pile into the car.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny sit in the front with Mrs. Weasley, leaving you, Fred, and George to squeeze into the back seat. While the car is roomy, the backseat is not particularly made to fit three teens, especially when two of them are about 6 feet tall, along with the luggage that didn’t fit in the trunk. Both Fred and George had agreed it would be easier if you sat in the middle since you were smaller, however you were still nearly sitting on top of them due to the lack of room. Neither of them complained though as they quite liked how close you were to them.

~.~

Once you had all arrived to the burrow you each went to your respective rooms - Fred and George to theirs, Ron and Harry to Ron’s room, and you and Ginny to her room.

You sighed contently as you set your bag on the floor.

“Did you have a nice ride over here, y/n?” Ginny asks, smirking.

“What do you mean, Gin?”

“You were practically sitting on the twins’ laps. That must have been nice, right?”

You hadn’t ever directly told her you liked her two older brothers, but she could tell from the way you looked at them and teased them.

“It would’ve been nicer to not be piled on top of each other.” You chuckled.

“I agree with you there.” She smiled, beginning to unpack her bag.

“So what about you? How are you doing with Harry?” You smirk. She wouldn’t admit it, but it was obvious that she had a crush on him. You’ve noticed how she talks about him, attempting to causally bring it up in conversation between the two of you, but you knew.

“What? I don’t -“

“C’mon, Ginny. You know I won’t tell, but I do know that you like him.”

“Fine, yeah. I do. I don’t expect it to go anywhere though. I mean, he’s Harry Potter and I’m younger than him anyway.”

“You’d be surprised, Gin. Just keep trying.” You smile.

“So what about you, Fred, and George? You do like them, don’t you?” She asks as you unpack a few of your things.

“I do, but it’s just really complicated. I don’t want to ruin anything, you know? I’ve gained so much since meeting them, from having them as friends to gaining all of you as a family....I don’t want to lose any of that.”

“Awe, y/n! I love you. You’d never lose me, I promise.” Ginny smiles as she hugs you.

“I love you too, Gin. I’m glad I’ll always have you.” You laugh, hugging her back as a smile takes over your features.

Christmas time at the burrow has begun and you were happy that you were able to be a part of it. There isn’t anywhere else you’d rather spend it.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george wealsey imagine #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #fred and george weasley x reader #imagines

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washymylifeaway · 4 years ago

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SakuAtsu Fanfic recs pt2 leggo

I promised a pt 2 and here it is! Link to pt 1 here :) I was lazy so given summaries (I cped this time, but in the future I might paraphrase), and ofc these aren’t all of the ones I loved, just some :D So in no particular order, have some SakuAtsu <3

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading (esp cause I didn’t put individual warnings PLEASE make sure you’re okay with the content!!!!!!) and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

Teach Me, Tune Me, Tempt Me by Anonymous (E) 38.8k // Sakusa Kiyoomi needs to conquer many lifelong fears in order to enter his first romantic relationship. Miya Atsumu is there to guide him every step of the way, even if the one Sakusa desires is someone else.

Flowers Bloom In Our Masks by UnicornFlowers (G) 24.5k // "Mysophobia, also known as verminophobia, germophobia, germaphobia, bacillophobia and bacteriophobia, is a pathological fear of contamination and germs." "You read that off of Wikipedia." "That's the point, Omi-kun. I read up on it fer you."

the art of folding a handkerchief by Emlee_J (T) 5.6k // “Atsumu-san’s just realised he likes Sakusa-san,” Shouyou says simply, as though announcing the weather. “Ahh,” Bokuto nods sagely, standing up straight and nodding his head, as though this was a perfectly normal thing to hear and not monumental in any way. “'Ahh?'” Atsumu protests, indignantly, “what do ya mean ‘ahh?’” “We were wondering when you were going to notice,” Bokuto shrugs, and Atsumu gawps at him. “'Scuse me?” He splutters, and whips his gaze around to Shouyou, who bobs his head at him in confirmation. “How did you two notice before I did?” Atsumu blurts out. "Most people do," Shouyou says softly. -In which Atsumu develops something annoying, like feelings for a teammate, but at least he has a couple of wingmen and Tobio's seemingly infinite resources to help him out.

for whom the heart beats by cielelyse (T) 1.6k // Atsumu's heart keeps skipping a beat whenever Sakusa's around - so often that it's baffling and honestly downright concerning. "I think I might have a medical condition," he says into the phone. "Good," says Osamu, and hangs up.

as you are by papertulips (G) 5.8k // Kiyoomi learns that falling for Atsumu is the easiest thing in the world.

Hide and seek by badreputation (E) 10.5k // It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.

People Will Say We're in Love by tirralirra (T) 9.5k // “Saku...Atsu? What does that even mean?” Atsumu says, squinting at the device. People seem to think that Sakusa and Atsumu are in love, so they come up with a list of things to do to deter that. Maybe it would work...if they weren’t in love.

do not separate! by aalphard (T) 5k // He knows he likes peanut butter and the tuna onigiri Uncle Shamu makes for him. He knows he likes volleyball and the way his daddy looks so, so cool when he’s on court. He knows he likes drawing and playing with toy swords. He knows he likes reading and it’s even better when Atsumu is the one reading for him. He knows he likes to have pancakes in the morning but he also really, really likes tamagoyaki and he knows his daddy can’t make those at all. He tries, but fails every single time. He knows his daddy’s teammates like him and he knows they’ll help him if he wants to play with them one day. But the thing is he likes Uncle Omi-kun more than he likes the rest of them and that is a secret he won’t tell anyone that’s not his daddy. He doesn’t like to make people sad.“Omi?” “Yeah?” “Nao said he likes you more than he likes the rest of the team. Don’t tell’em.” or atsumu is a single dad and kiyoomi can't help but fall for him.

you make my heart burn by myhopeisjhope (G) 9.2k // “What’s up with that awful expression?” Atsumu asked. He leaned against the counter with his hip, looking directly at Kiyoomi, his regular fox-line grin plastered on his face. Kiyoomi made eye-contact with him then, his eyebrows knotting in annoyance, but Atsumu was too interested in the cute pair of beauty marks above Kiyoomi’s eye to care about the glare that was sent his way. “What’s up with that awful hair?” Kiyoomi shot back. And that was exactly when Atsumu decided he liked the guy.

somewhere in the middle (i think we lied a little) by akanemnida (E) 4.3k // “Body worship,” Miya said instantly, after Kiyoomi asked him what he wanted as reward as the winner of their service ace competition. “I can do that,” Kiyoomi said with a frown. “God, you really are the vainest person on this planet—”Miya shook his head, smirking. “Nuh-uh, Omi-kun. I meant I wanted ‘ta worship ‘ya.”(Or: Sakusa and Atsumu and all the blurred lines in between.)

san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (T) 8.1k // Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe. Kiss him again, maybe. They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

affection by papertulips (G) 2.1k // "I gave you the key to my house for emergencies only." “This is an emergency.” “What?” Atsumu pouts, looking up at him with wide eyes that definitely work on Kiyoomi but he will never admit it. “I missed you.”

love could be labeled poison and we'd drink it anyways by myhopeisjhope (NR) 21.3k // "Huh?" is Atsumu's response, and it's seemingly the only thing the man could think of after the minute-long silence that stretched between them. "We should break up," Kiyoomi repeats, more clearly now. He doesn't let any emotion seep into his voice, keeping it neutral and detached, as if breaking up with Atsumu was the easiest thing ever, while in fact it's the complete opposite.

And I'll Ask for the Sea by meeks00 (T) 6.9k // When a couple of his teammates reveal that Atsumu has feelings for him, Sakusa doesn’t react well. It doesn’t help that Atsumu is his typical petty and salty self. --“Come on,” Atsumu is saying in a wheedling tone behind a bright grin. “Just stop,” Sakusa snaps suddenly. “Will you just leave me alone for once? I don’t even like you!”Normally, Sakusa’s words don’t phase Atsumu at all. He’ll talk over Sakusa or brush off any harsh words easily enough and might turn to someone else for the attention he apparently craves. But this time, Sakusa’s words seem to stop him cold, the smile freezing for just a moment on his face.

the Definition of Miya Atsumu, by Sakusa Kiyoomi by orphan_account (G) 4k // Miya Atsumu is a self-centred prick who thinks he's top shit. Underneath the word 'asshole' in the dictionary is a picture of his stupidly pretty face. Sakusa Kiyoomi's definition is, according to him, 100% correct, until he takes a closer look.

i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by liliapocalypse (T) 7.6k // Seeing Sakusa stressed out, Atsumu writes random letters on Sakusa’s skin to soothe him during the team’s assisted stretches. Somewhere along the way, the touches shift from barely tolerable to something Sakusa actively craved for. One day, though, Atsumu accidentally writes a confession instead.

it ain't no matter of 'if' honey, it's just a matter of 'when' by irleggsy (M) 2.1k // With a beer in one hand and an accusatory pointer finger on the other, Sakusa slurred, shouted even, “Atsumu. If you wear those godforsaken cutoff camo jorts one more fucking time I’m breaking up with you.”Atsumu made a noise in his throat caught somewhere between a wheeze and a squawk that came out more of an avant-garde honk noise than anything else. He stared up at Sakusa with wide eyes, a bewildered smile just barely glued onto his face. Or: The MSBY Black Jackals go to a bar. Sakusa likes to run his mouth when he's drunk.

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (T) 8.4k // You are your first and only line of defense against the universe.

Who Could Have Seen This Coming? by crone_zone (M) 16.7k // Peering out the side of his eyes at the man walking beside him, Sakusa wondered why he’d impulsively changed his mind about his plans this evening when he’d noticed Miya’s reluctance. Surely he wasn’t worried about this asshole, was he?--In which Sakusa impulsively invites Atsumu over to his apartment when he sees he's upset and something entirely unexpected happens: he realizes he likes this asshole. Cue [off-camera]sex, mutual confessions, insecurity, and adorable losers who are opposite in all the right ways.

Miya Atsumu's unwavering love for Sakusa Kiyoomi and an unholy amount of terrible food analogies that should not have the right to Exist by aiviloti (G) 5.6k // Five times Miya Atsumu talks to (harasses) his friends and sibling because he has feelings for Sakusa and doesn't know what to do or how to deal with them and the one time he talks to Sakusa about it. “How do you make friends apart from showering them in praise?” Atsumu wails one night, and Osamu thinks, oh god, here we go again.

Sakusa's Secret Admirer by TwilaFrost (T) 20.2k // Every day after practice, Kiyoomi finds another letter inside his shoe locker. It's only every signed: -❤ He's determined to find this person. Is it crazy to fall in love with someone you've never met?

take what's yours and make it mine by claudusdiei (T) 5.9k // (this has a second fic hehe) atsumu falls in love four times in his life (or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

School Bus Yellow by yuuki (G) 4.9k // Atsumu has a crush on Sakusa, and it’s kind of ridiculous how much he likes a guy who wears ugly colored jackets and is afraid of germs.Though, Atsumu’s probably not all that great himself. He’s still figuring that part out.

show me how by emeraldpalace (G) 2.9k // Sakusa isn’t sure when or how it happened, but the fact remains: Miya Atsumu has become a comfortable constant in his life.

touch me (i want you to) by melstar (G) 3.9k // He should have seen it coming, really. Spend six months tip-toeing around the line of domesticity with the team’s resident germaphobe, and there was no way he’d be able to think of the guy the same way anymore. Or, Atsumu touches Sakusa's arm once and thus begins a downward spiral into the inescapable jaws of attraction.

Dreaming of You, Talking About You by kitkatwrites (T) 1.1k // Osamu learns that Atsumu talks in his sleep, especially about a certain wing spiker from Tokyo.

If your world falls apart, I'd start a riot by Serendipity (jenjaemrens) (NR) 3.1k // "It was Atsumu who was the older brother, but it was Osamu who was more protective of him. He would always protect Atsumu from things around them that could hurt him. "Or, the story of Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu through the eyes of Miya Osamu.

but soft what light by min_mintobe (T) 2.1k // "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, Bokkun—" Atsumu drawls, "—hot. "In which Miya Atsumu woos Sakusa Kiyoomi by (gratuitously, seductively) quoting Shakespeare. One-shot.

sakusa kiyoomi's fixation on (miya atsumu's) lips by catsoncocaine (E) 3.7k // Everything about Atsumu is fucking beautiful, but there is one specific part of his that is like kryptonite for Kiyoomi. It is both his curse and his remedy, rendering him useless and yet egging him on to move at the same time. Kiyoomi hates it as much as he loves it.

The Jacket In Your Closet by dai_naning (T) 8.6k // According to the gossiping players around him, Miya Atsumu is an asshole. He's an incredible player in court and an obnoxious person off the court. He taunts people, points out their weakness, and doesn't give a shit if he's disliked or not. Some even say his teammates ostracize him. Sakusa looks at Miya Atsumu and can only see a player who keeps his eyes firmly forward, demanding the same to the players who want to stay on the court. Sakusa can't fault him for that. (That doesn't erase the fact that he's an asshole though. And that he's still the one who gave a jacket to a stranger.)

sakusa kiyoomi is....an uncle? by miyaudrey (T) 5.9k // “Oh, by the way, my nieces and nephews are going to be there.” “Your what now?” Or, Atsumu finds out three hours prior to a Sakusa family gathering that Kiyoomi is an uncle.

Confessions of a V-League Setter by Anubis_2701 (T) 3.3k // "Never?" Sakusa's lips thinned. "No, never. Now stop talking to me." Or, Atsumu discovers that Sakusa Kiyoomi, germaphobe and reluctant heartthrob of the Black Jackals, has never been confessed to before. He decides to change that.

Touch Me by cajynn (E) 3k // Sakusa actually likes being touched but he's very picky when it comes to who and how. When the who turns out to be Miya Atsumu he has a crisis.

Please Stop Crying by dauwtrappen (G) 2.9k // Friday starts off well until it doesn’t and Kiyoomi can hear something crash, feel something snap inside him when Miya, about to set him up for a quick attack, suddenly starts crying in the middle of their three-on-three. Kiyoomi doesn’t even react when the ball bounces off his head, doesn’t cringe when his face is smushed against the net briefly because he forgets to land in front of the it. He’s too shocked, too appalled with the tears pouring out from Miya’s eyes to care.

I can't take much more of your hesitating by playexodus (T) 2.7k // The curved sides of Atsumu’s pecs peek through that absurd tank top at just the right angle. Sakusa swallows. “Your entire chest is hanging out of that shirt. We’re in public. You could at least pretend to be a decent, morally upright person. Not to mention that this Los Angeles beach boy aesthetic is terrible on you.”Glancing back down at Atsumu’s chest to glare at his sharp, glistening collarbones is a bad idea. Sakusa wills his eyes to stay fixated on Atsumu’s face. As it turns out, this too, is a bad idea. “Oh?” Atsumu turns his half-lidded gaze onto Sakusa, the corners of his mouth curling. “Just to be clear: you’re definitely not enjoying the view then, Omi-Omi?”

curse breaking by allicanseeispink (T) 9.2k // Nearing the fourth hour of the silent treatment, Kiyoomi’s already frayed nerves began to whittle down to their last fibers. Today, it was raining. A proper Tokyo monsoon tantrum just shy of a full-blown typhoon that left puddles on sidewalks and fell from an angle so wicked it eluded umbrellas. It was raining and they haven’t spoken in almost four hours. (In which Sakusa wanders into the minefield that is Atsumu's feelings and tries not to blow things up.)

Summer Special: Omigiri by mika60 (T) 6.9k // Miya Osamu always comes up with the perfect marketing plan for his shop, even if it involves the two biggest idiots he knows.

a list of things sakusa kiyoomi hates by BrenH (T) 7.3k // “Just fuckin’ write shit down so ya remember it then. ”It was probably supposed to be a joke, just Osamu being as annoying and unhelpful as always, just reminding him that he shouldn’t have bothered trying to count on his brother for help. He’s forgotten about the whole thing until a few days later when he’s shopping and comes across a small, black notebook shaped like a cat, and his brother’s stupid suggestion flashes through his mind. Before he knows it, the cute little notebook is dropped in his basket, purchased, and in his possession. Or, the one where Osamu suggests Atsumu keep a notebook to track all the things Sakusa hates that he does, and he takes it further than he means to.

A Challenge, A Cat, and A Confession by Kitaa (G) 6.2k // Atsumu enjoys bothering Sakusa. One day he bothers him enough to be invited over to his apartment, only to discover that Sakusa has a plant, a cat, and a cute laugh.

Multiples Of Two by yuuki (G) 3.3k // He does everything in multiples of two. The day Sakusa Kiyoomi died, Atsumu checked his pulse twenty-eight times. Okay, so Sakusa Kiyoomi has never died. And Atsumu has never been close enough to Sakusa to be able to check his pulse. So what if Atsumu is just being dramatic again? He’s allowed to be dramatic when he’s in love with a man who has less emotion than a rock.

gold rush by sketchedsmiles (T) 18k // When the MSBY Black Jackals sign their newest team member, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Atsumu makes it his personal responsibility to befriend the indifferent player.

got sand in my eyes (and my shorts too, damn you miya) by luxnoctre (T) 4.7k // On one of their rare rest days, Hinata takes the part of the MSBY team to the beach. Chaos ensures. (or alternatively, do not piss off Sakusa when he is in the middle of relaxing)

mortality is found in the flesh of your sins by citronnes (M) 10.6k // dickhead one, sakusa kiyoomi. dickhead two, miya atsumu. neither understand how to communicate. Pray tell, why are you drawn to him?Are you drawn to him in the way he looks beautiful even when crying? When his eyes are red, shiny tears streaking down, lips quivering, is he beautiful?

This was v long ahahaha.... Anyway, is this finished? No LOL, but I’ll just make small additions via reblogs (?) over time. Maybe :) Sorry if you wanted me to ramble on about SakuAtsu,,,, slide into my messages/asks for that LOL. Maybe over time I’ll add the commentary from other posts I make in the future :’)

#sakuatsu #haikyuu fanfic rec #haikyuu fic recs #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq fic rec #anime #manga #sakuatsu fic recs #i'm a lazy person #also if you saw me saying i was gonna post kyouhaba #no you didnt #like i just said #lazy #there are a lot of fics in that one #anyway #all of these are really good #like i couldnt not put them all #ya know?

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snowdice · 4 years ago

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 61]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28

Pls story. I just want to get out of the sidequest. I’m just going to go until I finish up the sidequest. It’s been too long.

Chapter 29

Virgil finished eating the breakfast Patton’s mom had sent for him. It had been going on a week since she’d made the menu for him. She sent up little cards with each meal and he was supposed to rate each thing she sent on a scale from 1-5. Logan would read it to him before he ate, and Virgil mark the little box on the card. Usually, he would put a 4 for everything (he had tried to do 5, but Logan had told him 5 was reserved for things like chicken alfredo). Three was for things that he was neutral on, 2 was for things he didn’t like but could tolerate, and 1 was for things he didn’t like. So far, the only 3 was the unseasoned porridge she’d sent one day.

“Finished?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“What would you like to do today?” Logan asked. “Patton is busy until after lunch, and then we thought you might like to go back to the garden again. It’s supposed to drop in temperature over the next few days, so it will be the last good day for it.”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I don’t care what we do today though.”

“Well, there are a few options,” Logan said.

“What do you want to do?” Virgil asked.

Logan made an expression, and Virgil titled his head. “I’m don’t have anything in particular I want to do,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Virgil said immediately.

“You would not be interested in the activity I wish to partake in,” Logan said.

Virgil squinted at him. “I’d be interested in laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling.”

Logan chuckled. “No, truly. The activity I would do if you were not present would involve reading.”

“You can read to me,” Virgil suggested.

“…In Sanskrit.”

Virgil frowned at him. “Isn’t that, like, some sort of dead language?”

“It is,” Logan said. “I taught myself to read it to read a specific book called the Pragilium Text. It’s an encoded book that leads to a magical location that I have been trying to decode for years.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “You can do that.”

“It would be in the library,” Logan said.

“Okay.”

“But…” Logan said. “It would in no way be interesting to you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Like I said. I’m content to lie on the floor for a few hours.”

Logan frowned. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You wouldn’t be making me,” Virgil said. “I want to go. Maybe you can find me an easy book I could try to read?”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, decisively.

“Very well, get dressed and I will show you the library.”

Virgil stood to do so and a few minutes later, Logan was leading him out of the royal wing.

Both of the guards greeted him kindly, and Virgil hunched his shoulders in a bit, but said a soft “hi.”

The library didn’t end up being too far away. It was through the small dining hall and to the left where the staircase to the kitchen was to the right.

“This is not the main library,” Logan said. “It is just a smaller one. The royal librarian comes here only about once a week to organize. Some other castle residents might come in too, but it is usually mostly empty.” Virgil could tell just by listening for a few seconds that the place was likely empty (unless someone was lying in wait).

“I’ll look and see if there is something simple for you in case you’d like to read. You can explore a bit if you’d like,” Logan said.

Virgil nodded and stalked off into the shelves to secure the area. There were many books, not that he could quite read any of the spines. The bookcases were mostly cramped into the space. There was the open area where they’d come in with a few comfy chairs and Virgil found a desk near one of the windows. It had stacks of books including one pretty large and old one. He looked at it curiously.

Virgil heard Logan’s footsteps approach from down an aisle. “That’s the Pragilium text,” he said.

“It’s pretty,” Virgil said, looking at the design etched into the cover.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. He reached forward to touch it and opened it carefully. The print was small and didn’t look like the letters Logan had taught him so far. There was a small map on the side that Virgil could at least guess at the meaning of.

“You can read that?” Virgil asked.

“I can,” Logan said. “Very few people can though.”

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile.

“Now,” Logan continued. “I found you a book. I apologize as its subject matter is for younger children, but it has many pictures that can help give you context when you don’t know something. You don’t have to read it if you do not wish to, especially as we haven’t gotten very far in our lessons, but I thought you might like the challenge.

He handed him the book and Virgil took it with a smile. “I’ll try to read it,” he said.

“Well, you have free reign of the library. Feel free to continue to explore and to interrupt me if you need to.”

Virgil nodded and took the book before deciding to finish his sweep of the library. It turned out that appearances were not deceiving, and the library truly was empty. Once he was certain about that, he looked around for a comfortable place to settle down and try to read the book Logan had handed him. He found a sturdy looking bookshelf near where Logan was reading at his desk. He scaled it quickly. It was a little bit dusty at the top, but it wasn’t a bad place. It was close to the ceiling and kept him hidden pretty well, but still gave him enough room to pop up onto his elbows. If he looked left, he could see Logan down bellow with his head in the book, but if he looked right, he could see the entrance to the library.

He pulled the book in front of him and looked at the cover. It was covered in drawings of different colored flowers. One simple white flower was in the center and there were three words on the cover. He squinted at it and silently tried to sound it out based on what Logan had taught him so far. He could guess that the larger word was ‘flowers’ based on context. So, he was pretty sure it read How Flowers Grow.

He flipped open the book. Logan was right, there were many hand drawn beautiful pictures. He could pretty much understand what was happening just from them even if he couldn’t read all of the words.

It was an interesting book even if he couldn’t read it and it was obviously made for small children. Judging by the pictures it seemed to be detailing how plants, or at least, flowers grew through some kid planting and caring for a flower over the course of some amount of time.

Virgil had, of course, known flowers grew from seeds, but it was interesting to see things about how the stem would pop out of the seed in the ground and things about the roots growing.

He more looked through the pictures than read it the first time but had flipped back to the front to try to read the words when he heard the library door open.

Virgil perked up in awareness, but then settled when he recognized Patton’s footsteps. Virgil tilted his head to watch as he walk directly to Logan’s hideaway.

“Hi,” he said, gaining Logan’s attention.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied. He glanced at the window and must have seen that time had passed because he closed his book and shuffled his papers.

“The guards said you came here,” Patton said, glancing around. “Where’s Virgil?”

Instead of letting Logan answer that question, Virgil pulled himself forward, with the book in one hand and slid off the bookshelf to land lightly on his feet next to Patton.

Patton screamed before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Logan had placed his hand over his heart. “Where on Earth did you come from?” he asked.

Virgil blinked at him and then pointed to the bookshelf he’d been on top of.

“How long were you up there?” Logan asked.

“Pretty much the whole time,” Virgil answered.

“I…” Logan said. “I didn’t even know.”

Virgil squinted at him. “You need to learn to look up.”

Patton giggled.

Virgil turned on him. “You need to learn to case the area.”

“Oh honey, your shirt is all covered in dust,” Patton said instead of responding to his very valid criticism. Virgil frowned. “Let’s get you changed and then go grab some lunch.”

“Lunch?” Virgil asked.

Patton chuckled and grabbed his hand. “Yes, sweetie, lunch. Then garden.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “But you do need to learn to be more observant.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say,” Patton said.

Logan just rolled his eyes.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out into the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see flowers but see all of the flowers grow. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits. They ended up in the food garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on the direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests, I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin them so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some leftover.”

“Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on your, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop.”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you want to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at the large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected to understand his words and the exasperation in the tone he said them in.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

50234

Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

#proofread stories #not writing

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Are You in Love With a Notion? (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Ellie wakes up in the Lake District with a hangover, an engagement ring, and her best friend in her bed. It’s not quite Vegas, but it’s still a cataclysmic mess.

a/n: this one goes out to the anon that came to my inbox with the concept “diamond chaney but they impulsively get married one night and have to deal with the consequences later”. it was too good to just headcanon for so it’s now a fully-fledged fic. it’s complete and utter silly nonsense and it’s by no means the most groundbreaking writing in the world, but it is FUN! hope u all enjoy and pls enjoy my continued campaign for u all to board the diamond chaney clown bus xo

(do people still use snapchat? fuck knows, but i needed it for plot purposes. if u like u can pretend this is set in 2016.)

***

Ellie wakes up feeling like a bat has shat in her head.

It feels as if her pulse is contained entirely within her cranium given the way it’s throbbing, and every time she blinks it’s as if each of her eyelashes weigh twenty kilogrammes. She momentarily wonders where she is before the heavy cream drapes and the shiny glass-topped bedside table come into focus and she remembers she’s in the hotel room. A’whora had wanted to splash out for her birthday (“you only turn a quarter of a century old once, ladies!”) and no expense was spared since she’d got that promotion a few months back. She’d covered the difference for any of the girls who wouldn’t have been able to afford to go away and Ellie was thankful for her friend’s kindhearted and generous nature. After all, she’s not the kind of girl who would say no to a treat, and she’ll return the favour as soon as her salon takes off.

(And it will take off. She didn’t study business for nothing.)

But the room right now, even with its four-poster bed and the cosy sheets and the four soft pillows, is providing absolutely no respite from the fact that Ellie is hanging out of her arse. Throwing her arm over her eyes as she squeezes them shut, she gives a small, self-indulgent sob of anguish and suffering.

And as she rolls from her side onto her back, she becomes aware of the fact that she’s not alone in the bed.

The dread and fear that grips her heart reminds her of when she went on school camp in Primary 7 and had to jump into one of those freezing cold plunge pools.

She keeps her arm over her eyes for a few more seconds to allow herself to work up the mental stability she needs to face whoever’s at her side. Maybe it’s a dream. Maybe this has all been in her mind and in a moment she’s going to wake up hangover-free with her bed blissfully empty.

Ellie brings her arm down from her eyelids and, without knowing what possesses her (aside from the copious amounts of alcohol that remain in her bloodstream), bites down gently on her arm in lieu of pinching herself.

She can confirm she is still very much awake.

It’s not that a one-night-stand is beyond her; she would even go as far as to say that at one point both she and A’whora were infamous for it back at uni, and she’s admittedly glad that “Dirty Diamond” just isn’t as catchy as “A’whora” and therefore that particular nickname hasn’t stuck with her into adult life like it has for her friend. No, what she’s surprised at herself for is the fact she’s brought someone back at her big age. She hasn’t had a random hookup for a while now, and the fact she can’t remember it is even worse.

She presses the hand that’s under the duvet against her thigh and her heart almost gives out with relief at the fact she can feel clothes. She can’t have gone too far, then. This is okay. This is salvageable. As she runs her fingers over the hem of whatever the fuck she’s wearing, realisation slowly dawns on her that it’s her pink playsuit from the night before.

Ellie genuinely can’t tell if the situation is better because she’s not naked, or worse because she’s still in her clothes from last night.

Her pulse skyrockets again, however, as an arm gently thuds over her waist through the duvet and the person, whoever the hell they even are, snuggles into her side contentedly. Only…it all feels too weirdly familiar for Ellie’s liking. The body beside her, the closeness, even the rise and fall of the breathing is all that of someone she feels like she knows.

Lifting her arm off her eyes and to her forehead, opening them, and finally ripping the plaster off to see who’s by her side, Ellie doesn’t know whether to be relieved or slightly horrified.

A purple velvet jumpsuit with a belt to tie her in at the waist that’s coming undone. Black and purple painted nails. Endless waves of thick lilac hair that are fanned out in tendrils across the white pillowslip. An entire face of perfectly painted makeup that’s still clinging on from the night before.

It’s Lawrence. She’s waking up beside her best friend. This is fine. This is totally normal. They’ve shared a bed countless times before back at uni, and it’s not something Ellie’s ever been adverse to- quite the opposite in fact, she thinks, as her stomach does a flip.

Something still feels off, though.

And then, as Ellie brings her hand down from her forehead and something bumps against it, it hits her- physically and metaphorically- all at once.

The ring Lawrence always wears; her pride and joy, her grandmother’s ring. The one that looks like the heart of the ocean on her finger, a huge blue diamond surrounded by eight small platinum ones. The ring Lawrence guards with her life and would only take off if it was physically tasered off her. The ring that could single-handedly obliterate Lawrence’s entire student debt and probably Ellie’s too if she was feeling generous enough.

The ring- that ring- is currently sitting on the fourth finger of Ellie’s left hand. As if it’s an engagement ring.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says without thinking. Her voice is croaky and too-loud in the silence of the room, but Lawrence still takes a while to stir beside her. She pulls Ellie close with the arm that’s round her, nuzzles her face into her arm. Usually the feeling wouldn’t be an unwelcome one, but just now Ellie’s got bigger problems. She hisses again. “Lawrence, wake up.”

“I’m not shagging you, Ruth Davidson, you wee Tory,” Lawrence’s sleep-coated voice comes from beside her, and Ellie finally draws back, reaches behind her and takes the pillow out from under her head to thump her with.

“For fuck’s sake! Lawrence, wake up! We’re in the shit here!”

As Lawrence finally blinks slowly, Ellie watches her go through the seven stages of grief far more rapidly than she’s just done. She feels like an idiot for the way her heart dips in disappointment when Lawrence shuffles back from her and draws her arm away self-consciously. She mumbles, grumpy and tired. “Ellie, I’m not alive.”

“Yes you are, drama queen.”

“No I’m fucking not. I feel how Prince Philip looks,” she groans in despair, obviously as hungover as Ellie is. She screws her face up and rubs her eyes, in turn smearing her makeup over her cheekbones. “Why am I even here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we shagged,” Ellie says dryly, before holding the back of her hand up to Lawrence’s face. “Main question is, why the hell do I have this?”

Lawrence’s eyes grow wide in recognition before she groans and thumps her head back against the pillow. “How did you even…? Aw, I don’t know, Ellie, I’m too hungover to be mad about it. Just gies it back before you breathe and lose it or some shite.”

“But why is it…you know. Why is it here?” Ellie asks insistently, pressing her hand against her friend’s face in a deliberately annoying way. Lawrence grabs her wrist and forces it away from her face to get a proper look, and Ellie can see the cogs turn in her head before her face blanches at the implication.

Appearing to try and collect herself, Lawrence frowns, batting Ellie’s arm away. “You were probably getting hit on by some reprobate forty year old man in a suit so I’ll have let you pretend to be married to me. You should be honoured, really, it’s the closest you’ll get to perfection.”

“Piss off,” Ellie rolls her eyes as Lawrence gives a sleepy chuckle. She fiddles with the ring on her finger. It’s a little too small, and taking it off is proving difficult. Combined with the underlying stress of something still not being right, though, and it’s not enough to make Ellie’s dread dissipate.

“Can you remember any of last night?” she asks Lawrence, who’s scrabbling around on the bedside table for her phone.

“Nothing. You?”

“Neither,” Ellie rubs her temples with her fingers as if trying to massage the hangover out of her brain. No such luck.

“A’whora will be worse than us, then, won’t she? Because the last thing I remember is her and Tayce necking the prosecco at pres- oh, shit,” Lawrence has successfully retrieved her phone, and as she cuts herself off she’s frowning at it as if it’s committed a crime against her. “She’s calling just now, actually.”

Ellie already knows A’whora will be perfectly fresh and put together even before Lawrence swipes her phone across the screen to accept the facetime call, and so seeing her looking exactly that plus her girlfriend beside her looking the exact same just makes Ellie want to die even more.

A’whora’s smile is smug on her face as she smirks at them through the phone. “How are you two lovebirds doing this morning?”

Her words are like cold water down Ellie’s spine, and from the way Lawrence’s expression has changed too it seems she’s not the only one. She’s wondering what A’whora’s trying to imply with her joke and really, really hoping it’s just an innocent barb with no meaning behind it. Ellie can’t speak, but Lawrence gets there before her anyway. “What?”

“The married couple! The newlyweds! The babas!” Tayce jumps in, way too energetic and excited and making Ellie feel more hungover just looking at her.

Her words, though, aren’t helping her growing need to spew all over the hotel room floor. “What are you talking about?”

A’whora’s jaw drops open, and she barely conceals a laugh. “Oh my God. What do you remember?”

Ellie doesn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of admitting that the answer’s nothing, but Lawrence is talking before she can get a chance. “Neither of us can remember anything. All I know is that I woke up in bed with this slut and she’s tried to steal my gran’s ring off me to…fuck knows, pretend she’s married to me. She wishes.”

“Lawrence,” Tayce starts, barely audible from giggling. “You two are married. You got married last night.”

What the fuck.

How can they be married? It’s not possible. Ellie tries to think but she can’t conjure up any clear thoughts. She feels the same smack of dread and fear that she felt when she went on that motorcycle rollercoaster at Flamingo Land two summers ago. Lawrence had been by her side then, too, her hand over Ellie’s white-knuckled one and reeling off ridiculous jokes to try and calm her down. She hates rollercoasters, and this one doesn’t seem like it’s going to be over anytime soon.

Lawrence doesn’t seem fazed. “You’re on the wind-up. Els, don’t give them the satisfaction, they’re taking the piss.”

“We’re not!” Tayce gasps, affronted, and A’whora is protesting adamantly too. “There was a wedding party in the bar last night and the pair of you kept moaning about how single you were and how you’d never find love.”

Lawrence narrows her eyes at her through the camera, offended. Ellie is inclined to feel the same.

“And the pair of you eventually decided you were just going to marry each other. Bimini mentioned they’re an ordained minister, so then you both insisted they married the pair of you in the hotel bar.”

“Get so far to fuck,” Lawrence snorts derisively, but it’s still not helping Ellie’s rising, terrified heart rate. “We’re meanty believe this, aye? Why in the fuck would I ever agree to marrying this wee cow, as if I would lower myself!?”

Ouch. Ellie scowls, screws her face up as she tears her eyes away from the screen and looks at Lawrence pointedly. “Thanks babes, love you too.”

“But you know what I mean!” Lawrence sort-of-not-really apologises. “Right, then, I’ll bite. If we got married, how did we get to the registry office? What registry office is open at eleven at night on a Saturday?”

A’whora shrugs all blasé. “There’s one in the hotel, we just went there. Caught it just before it closed, I think.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. She wants to believe it’s a joke, so she attempts to pick a hole in the story. “If we were that drunk, though, they wouldn’t have married us? Surely? I mean it’s not Vegas, A’whora, it’s the fucking Lake District.”

“Oh no, baby, the registrar said they get couples turning up drunk all the time! And obviously myself, A’whora and Bimini were much more sober than you, so we were the responsible adults. Or bridesmaids, I guess. We were that classy level of prosecco tipsy, you pair were on the vodka lemonades by eight last night,” Tayce explains.

As the story unfolds, Ellie feels more and more nauseous. She wants to crawl up into a ball like a dead woodlouse. Surely not. Surely not.

“Wedding dresses,” Lawrence says argumentatively. “We didn’t have wedding dresses. It would’ve been so obvious we were taking the piss.”

“Oh, neither of you would stop going on about how the colour scheme was pink and purple! Matching pink and purple playsuits! Which I see you’re still wearing, you absolute hounds,” Tayce wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Everything seems to be adding up to a ridiculously clear and yet blurry degree, and Ellie can’t in any way cope with the magnitude of the situation. She throws her arms over her face and curls up into the foetal position with a groan of self-pity. Through the duvet, she feels Lawrence whack her.

“Ellie, shut up! It’s so obviously a joke,” she insists, and Ellie can hear the roll of her eyes. A’whora and Tayce are cackling down the phone like two little Wizard of Oz witches and Ellie’s never identified more with Dorothy in her life.

“Well, believe us or don’t believe us, still doesn’t change the fact you got hitched,” A’whora says lightly. “I mean, you’ll have the marriage certificate to prove it. You had it last night, it’ll be in your room somewhere.”

Ellie pops her head out from under the duvet in horror. Her voice comes out as a horrified squeak. “Marriage certificate?”

A’whora shrugs. “Yeah! If you don’t believe us then maybe you’ll believe a piece of paper.”

“The marriage certificate that doesn’t exist. Aye, nae bother,” Lawrence says, still clearly disdainful of the story. “You coming to breakfast or what?”

“Oh, babe! Been there, done that! We got up at seven, showered, dressed, makeup, breakfast, and we’ve been out for a walk. Get on our level,” Tayce flicks her hair. Ellie fleetingly loathes her.

Lawrence rubs her forehead with her free hand, clearly headachey. “Well I’m starving, so I’m not hanging around to be wound up by the fuckin’ lesbian Prank Patrol any longer. Time’s check out?”

“You’ve got til half twelve. I got us a late one, figured we’d all need it.”

As Lawrence promises to see the other two later and hangs up, Ellie can’t speak. She’s still in shock at the potential truth from last night; that they actually got married. To each other. Over the years, Ellie’s invented made-up scenarios in her head that involve various things: telling Lawrence how she feels, kissing Lawrence, Lawrence asking her on a date. None of them have involved marriage. She’s never even thought to think that far ahead, but now it’s a reality it doesn’t seem like the Disney-princess dream she’s always expected it to be.

It actually feels sort of like a nightmare.

A thud from a pillow brings her back to reality. “Ellie!”

Ellie looks at her friend, who’s managed to crawl off the bed and is standing beside it, looking expectantly at her. Ellie blinks in bewilderment, rubs her eyes before she speaks. “What?”

“I’m gonna go shower and get changed and then we can go down to breakfast? I’ll come back and knock in about fifteen minutes?”

Ellie can’t believe she’s so calm. Sitting up in bed and feeling her head sting again, she looks pointedly at Lawrence. “You’re not in any way bothered about the story the girls just told us? The fact we might have got married?”

Lawrence snorts. “Oh, Ellie, please. You’re so gullible I swear to God someone could tell you Davina McCall’s the new Pope and you’d just nod and accept it.”

“But the marriage certificate, though? The ring? Which, by the way, won’t come off,” Ellie tugs on it again, trying not to panic when it doesn’t budge.

“There won’t be a marriage certificate! You said it, it’s the UK, it’s not Vegas. There’s a reason shotgun weddings aren’t a thing here. You honestly think we could just rock up to a registry office and get married?”

Ellie falls silent. She should feel reassured, but she doesn’t.

“I’m away to scrub the first ten layers of alcohol sweat out of my pores, awrite? You better be ready by the time I’m back.”

Lawrence leaves and Ellie is left on her own with her thoughts, which all seem to ricochet off her brain and pummel it to a husk, making her hangover worse. She still searches lazily for the fabled marriage certificate in between showering and getting ready, looking fruitlessly under discarded clothes on the floor and under furniture. Lawrence is right- she knows Lawrence is right- but there’s still a part of Ellie’s mind that’s niggling away with a what if on a loop.

By the time Lawrence knocks on her door again, Ellie is back not knowing what to think. She finds herself frantically babbling to her on the way down to the hotel restaurant in the lift, but her friend won’t entertain it.

“You’re too easy to prank. How can you believe them, it’s obviously a bam up!”

“Well, it could’ve happened! They brought it up before we even said we couldn’t remember anything, right? I mean, why else would you give me your ring? You barely trust me to hold your phone for two seconds to take a picture,” Ellie runs a hand through her hair, which she didn’t wash and is still in its big curls from the night before.

“Aye! Because you dropped it in the road when we went out for Jazz’s birthday!”

“That was two years ago! And I paid for the screen repairs!” Ellie cries in indignation, but the memory still makes her blush. She grows quiet again before her mind takes her back to the apparent events of last night. “The story makes sense.”

“The story does not make sense!” Lawrence sighs, agitated. “What proof do we have? You’re wearing my ring and our pals have told us the plot of a Hangover film? Honestly, hen, if we got married last night I’ll buy you an Uber back to Dundee.”

As they reach the dining room, the pair of them stop dead in the entranceway. Because there in the middle, almost as if it’s framed, is a table for two surrounded by inflatable red heart-shaped balloons, covered in red sparkly confetti, with champagne flutes and roses and polished silverware.

“What time’s my Uber booked for, then?” Ellie deadpans sarcastically. She doesn’t know why she’s making a joke. She isn’t in a joking mood. She’s nothing short of horrified.

“Calm down. That won’t be for us. A’whora said there was a wedding party last night, remember? It’ll be for them,” Lawrence reassures her, but Ellie doesn’t miss the distinct lack of self-assuredness to her voice that had been there before.

A waiter approaches them and asks for their name. Lawrence speaks (because Ellie can’t quite manage), and in return the waiter fixes them with a bright smile.

“Ladies, on behalf of us all at the Old England, we would like to wish you many congratulations and happiness on this most special occasion. Please, follow me,” he reels off before walking in the direction of the over-the-top, Valentine’s Day-style photoshoot set-up that is apparently where they’re having breakfast.

Ellie is going to be sick.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Lawrence whispers all in one breath, before sleepwalking towards their table and sitting down with a tight smile of thanks to the eager waiter. As Ellie sits in the chair opposite, she notices the affectionate smiles from couples at other tables and feels her face flush with hot embarrassment. The waiter disappears with a promise to be back for their order soon, and the pair of them are left sitting in stunned silence.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says first. Her gaze is stuck on the table, shocked and stunned.

“Don’t,” Lawrence replies. When Ellie finally looks at her she’s sitting with her eyes squeezed shut, her face a picture of strained concentration.

“What are you doing? You look constipated.”

“I’m trying to wake up from this abject fucking nightmare,” Lawrence says through gritted teeth.

Even though Lawrence is right- it is a nightmare, it’s a bad, terrible dream- it doesn’t stop the way her words feel ever-so-slightly like a blow to the crush Ellie’s harboured for an embarrassingly long length of time. She can’t think about that, though. There are bigger issues at stake here. Like the fact they’re married.

“Do you believe me now? Why the hell would the hotel do all this if we didn’t get married in their registry office the night before?”

“It’ll be…” Lawrence begins, trying to explain it away then putting her head in her hands when she realises she’s at a loss. “Fuck, I don’t know. We need A’whora or Tayce down here to talk it through with us. Or Bimini. If it’s A’whora and Tayce’s prank then they might not be in on it.”

“They had to go back to London early for a shoot, remember? They’ll have already left,” Ellie reminds Lawrence, and her face falls in dismay.

The waiter returns holding a bottle of champagne and Ellie watches Lawrence turn over her flute with a little aggressive thud and doesn’t say when until the bubbles climb to the very top of the glass. They both order pastries, Ellie’s appetite completely gone and Lawrence’s appearing to be the same.

Ellie narrows her eyes at Lawrence as she watches her glug the bubbles down. “How the hell can you be drinking at a time like this? Are you not hungover?”

“I am hungover, yes. But I need to be drunk to deal with this situation. So I’m hoping this’ll at least take the edge off a bit,” she says dryly. Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Being drunk got us into this situation, it’s not gonna get us out of it,” she sighs helplessly, realising too late that she sounds too much like her Mum. Lawrence responds appropriately; shaking her head at her moodily and staring off into the distance as she keeps sipping from her glass.

Ellie cups her cheeks, thanks the waiter weakly as he puts down a tray of pastries in front of the two of them. She tries to go over the events of last night in her head but draws a blank every time. According to A’whora and Tayce they’ll have been at the bar, decided to get married…Bimini had married them, somehow and somewhere, and they’d gone to the registrar…then they’d presumably got even more drunk and had a dance, and then…

How had Lawrence ended up in her room? Unless they’d…no. They’d both still had their clothes on from the night before.

But that wouldn’t have stopped them making out.

“Oh, God,” Ellie groans, unable to hold in the regret and the constant pain of her headache. Lawrence shoots her a funny look. Ellie’s loath to explain herself. The idea that the first kiss she’s shared with Lawrence has been messy, drunk, and one she can’t even remember is one that makes her feel stupid amounts of disappointed, but she’s not exactly going to share that with her friend.

“Loz, what if we did something last night?”

“What, aside from get married?” Lawrence talks through a mouthful of croissant. Then, as realisation dawns, her chewing stops. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence as they both stare at each other.

“Nah,” Lawrence finally shrugs as she resumes eating. “Because we both still had our clothes from last night on when we woke up?”

“Yeah, but we still could’ve kissed,” Ellie pulls a face, the words feeling too awkward and childish as they come out of her mouth. Lawrence seems to hesitate for a second before smirking across the table at her.

“Aye right. As if I’d ever let you near enough to me for that to happen.”

“Rich from the girl who was wrapped around me when I woke up,” Ellie quirks an eyebrow at her, and it’s Lawrence’s turn to fall silent.

Breakfast doesn’t last long. Between their hangovers and the fact that they’re both trying to make sense of the whole crazy situation neither of them can eat much, and they’re dragging themselves back to their rooms before too long. They continue to discuss everything, purely because there’s not much else they can talk about when the prospect of them being married is hanging over their heads like the world’s heaviest cloud. This time, though, it’s Lawrence who’s doing most of the nervous talking.

“I’m sure it’s easily explained away. They probably just got our table confused with the wedding party’s from yesterday. That’ll be what it is. Just some big coincidence. There’s a reasonable explanation to it all. Have you got that fuckin’ ring off your finger yet?!”

“I’m working on it,” Ellie grumbles. The best she’s managed is getting it halfway to her first knuckle before realising it was cutting the blood circulation off even more and she could get it no higher, so she’d immediately pushed it back down again.

She hears herself huff with annoyance. All she wants to do is sleep but they have to somehow deal with this first, and it’s more inconvenient than she’d ever hoped her first marriage (her only marriage) would be. Thinking for a second, she gives a little gasp as she has an idea. “Why don’t we just go down to the registry office and ask?”

Lawrence stops walking, fixes Ellie with a look as if she’s sprouted another head. “Have you lost the bloody place?! You want to go up to the registrar and go, ‘sorry to bother you, but can you please tell us if we’re married or not?’ We’d get sectioned!”

Ellie thinks that, even though it sounds as if it’s the easiest course of action, Lawrence is probably right.

“Besides,” Lawrence continues. “If there’s the possibility that we did rock up three sheets to the wind last night, I don’t particularly wanty show my face there again.”

“Right,” Ellie agrees. She bites her lip as she reaches the door to her room and puts her key card in. Lawrence waits beside her, a mutual understanding that she’s coming in to continue the conversation.

Ellie supposes she’s her wife now, so it makes sense.

“Who could we phone to confirm it, then? The government?”

Lawrence pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Ellie, you did not just ask me if we could phone the gov-”

“Oh my fucking God.”

Ellie cuts Lawrence off without thinking, and upon seeing the inside of the room Lawrence is rendered speechless too. There’s more balloons, ones without weights that cover the ceiling over the bed. The bed itself and the floor surrounding it is covered in rose petals, and on top of the pristinely made duvet there’s a box of chocolates and two bathrobes origami-d into swans.

Lawrence is the first to march into the room. She snatches up a small note that’s sitting on top of the chocolate box, unfolds it and reads aloud. “Congratulations to the happy couple, we wish you both a long and happy marriage. From all the staff at the Old England hotel. Fuck me, this canny be real.”

Ellie lets the door swing shut, walks over to the bed and sits on its edge precariously. An idea occurs to her as she retrieves her phone from her pocket. “Here. Check your phone. Messages, photos. There might be clues.”

She doesn’t look up to see if Lawrence is nodding or not, but she assumes she’s following her suggestion. Ellie is busy with her camera roll (where there’s nothing, and the last photo is a terrible, blurry, unflattering selfie of her and Tayce) when Lawrence gives a hum of recognition.

“I got a snapchat from you at one in the morning.”

Ellie cranes her neck. “What does it say?”

Lawrence, oddly, is keeping the phone out of her view. She’s quiet before she brings the phone back into Ellie’s line of vision, and the picture, whatever it was, is gone. “Just a drunk selfie. Nothing that could give us any clues.”

The pair of them are quiet as Lawrence taps against her phone screen. Ellie reflects. They’ve been in the shit like this together before: when they were eighteen and both their phones died before Lawrence’s Mum could pick them up from T in the Park and they got yelled at the whole way home when she’d eventually found them both, when they’d been stopped by the police because Lawrence had carried a traffic cone through the City Centre and tried to put it on top of the existing one on the Duke of Wellington statue. But this is a whole different level of shit.

Through it all, though, Lawrence has always been there with a joke and a laugh and reassurance for Ellie that things are never as bad as they seem. She always has this panicky way of staying positive, delivering comforting words through a voice that’s shaky with her own anxiety. Ellie always helps her in return when she needs it, has done for years: she’s usually good at staying calm, she’s chatty and can talk Lawrence through anything, and she’ll always reach out to take her hand or be there with a hug and a reminder that as long as Lawrence has got her, she’s never on her own. They’ve always seemed to take turns being each others’ anchors, and their friendship is a weird sort of pendulum of support. Today, however, they’re both blindly stumbling through their own process of coming to terms with this situation, and Ellie supposes neither or them are being much of a help to each other. She wishes she could be more helpful, because she cares about her friend so much.

Too much for it to be explained away as a friendship.

“What are you looking up?” Ellie asks as Lawrence lies back on the bed with a thud, eyes still glued to her phone. Craning her neck, Ellie can see she’s typed how to get divorced into Google.

“Why are there no ordained divorce lawyers?” Lawrence mutters under her breath. “We can get married in a hotel bar but we can’t get divorced in a hotel room? What kind of fucking bullshit is this?”

Ellie lies back too. It’s not lost on her how close together their heads are. “Why are you trying to get us divorced? We might not even be married. I still think we should phone up the government.”

“Nicola Sturgeon’s got bigger fish to fry, babes, there’s an election in May.”

“Not the government, obviously,” Ellie rolls her eyes, scrolls her own phone absent-mindedly. She’d look something up to try and help but she’s at a loss. “Like…the offices! The records of marriage and stuff. They’ll have a department for this sort of thing, won’t they?”

“Will we even be on the system if our marriage is less than twenty-four hours old?” Lawrence wonders out loud. “And if we got married here, would we be registered in England, then? Aw fuck, so many questions and not a single answer.”

Ellie frowns to herself as she thinks. “What if we do have to get divorced? Will we need a lawyer? I don’t have that kind of money, Lawrie, and neither do you.”

Lawrence hums in worried agreement, and Ellie presses her lips together. It’s weird dealing with all of this when there’s a crush at play. In amongst frantically trying to figure everything out and clarify it all, a tiny part of Ellie wonders…would it really be so bad to be married to Lawrence? There’s not really an excuse for them not to date now. It’s really the perfect way of ruining the friendship she’s been so worried about ruining for the past few years; it’s not awkward to say she has feelings for her literal wife, she supposes. But every time those thoughts rest in her brain for a few seconds, Ellie forces herself to chase them away- because really, hen, are you insane? The sheer scale of the situation isn’t lost on her, she knows they have to figure it out somehow and mop this mess up. But pretending would be nice, and safe, and far, far away from this alcohol-soaked bubble of horror she appears to have woken up in.

It’s out before she knows it, though. “What if we just stayed married? If we are. If we just stayed married until we could afford to get divorced?”

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” Lawrence drops her phone onto the bed, covering her eyes with her hands in resigned exhaustion.

“No, think about it! There must be loads of benefits to getting married,” Ellie explains, feeling as if she has to justify the ridiculous thought now. “You get, um. I think you get extra money from the government?”

“The tories have never given out extra money. To anyone,” Lawrence glares at her.

(Ellie knows it’s not what she should be taking from this, but it occurs to her that the way Lawrence has done her eyeliner today makes her eyes look really pretty.)

“Oh! Here, it says you get tax breaks if you get married. It would be good to not have to pay council tax for a bit,” Ellie says, looking up from her phone where she’s just googled what are the benefits of getting married UK.

Lawrence pauses beside her. When she speaks, she sounds contemplative. “Well, you’d be taking my last name, because am I fuck taking yours.”

Ellie gives a choked noise of indignation. “Fuck off, I’ve got the best last name out of the two of us! Diamond?”

“It’s the last name of a porn star! I’m not living my daily life like that!”

“So you want me to go by Ellie Chaney? A name that rhymes? Like a character from Balamory?”

“You already dress like a fuckin’ character from a kids’ TV show, it wouldn’t be that far-fetched,” Lawrence starts giggling, and Ellie can only fix her with an unimpressed pout. “Nah, this wouldn’t work, Els. We’re already arguing and it’s only been one day. We couldn’t stay married. Besides, I’ve got fucking standards, you know? I could so do better than you.”

It’s silly, Ellie knows, but the last comment from Lawrence stings more than it should. It’s got nothing to do with the concept of the two of them actually being married, but more the fact that Lawrence has basically just rubbished any hopes that Ellie’s ever had of maybe-someday-oneday them breaking out of their little bubble of friendship and trying to be anything more. She’s always done it; that’s Lawrence’s way, to shit on Ellie, to gently bully her, but Ellie has always known there’s no malice behind it. Except today it all hits differently, it hits a sore spot that she’s too tired of trying to keep hidden.

“Sorry that being married to me is such a disgusting prospect,” Ellie snaps without realising, turning over on the bed and standing up so she doesn’t have to see Lawrence’s reaction to the comment she already regrets.

“When did I say that?” Lawrence fires back, and Ellie can tell she’s confused by her reaction.

“We need to find this fucking marriage certificate,” Ellie ignores her, opening the drawers of the bedside table even though she sort of knows it’s a futile endeavour since she’s already searched.

Lawrence pushes, though, never one to back down from a confrontation. “Why are you suddenly raging at me, what am I meant to have done?”

“You don’t have to act like you got landed with the booby prize on a game show, Lawrence, I’m still your friend. There’s worse people to be stuck with,” Ellie continues as she crosses the room to look in the drawers of the dressing table, hating the way she sounds like a petulant child but being unable to help the way her words just seem to be coming out.

There’s a silence that hangs in the air like fog, and then Lawrence’s voice comes again. It’s softer, a comforting note to it that makes Ellie’s heart lift cruelly. “Ellie.”

Ellie opens the wardrobe doors, realising too late what a ridiculous place to look it is but committing to the idea anyway. She’s still way too hungover to cope with any of this, and the prospect of an argument with Lawrence, especially over this, isn’t one she’s able to face. Accepting she’s not going to find the certificate, she sighs and walks back over to the bed. As she sits on its edge and keeps her back to her friend she fiddles with the ring on her finger, and it finally, mercifully, slides off.

Lawrence’s voice is stripped of all its aggression and incredulity from before as she speaks again. This time she’s quiet and sincere. “Ellie. What’s this really about?”

Before Ellie can consider the gravity of the question or indeed contemplate how to word an answer, Lawrence’s phone vibrates against the bedcovers. Neither of them speak as she reaches up to grab it, but when A’whora’s name flashes up on screen again they share a look of weary exhaustion, neither of them wanting to face their friend’s smug expression.

A’whora’s smiling cheekily as Lawrence answers the call. “How’re the young lovers doing after their breakfast, then?”

Lawrence’s nostrils flare. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“So all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, then. Just calling to see if you liked the wedding presents.”

Ellie feels like a crumbling sandcastle as she rolls onto her side next to Lawrence and looks at A’whora through the screen. “What?”

“The decorations at breakfast! The ones in your room! Just thought they’d really add to the atmosphere,” she smirks, unable to keep from laughing.

More confused than ever, Ellie frowns in bewilderment. “But that was from…the hotel did that?”

“No, I did that. I just phoned down and got them to set it up. They still had a bunch of wedding shit left over from that pair that got married last night. It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth it to give the pair of you the romantic equivalent of everyone singing happy birthday to you at a restaurant,” A’whora explains, still giggly.

Ellie and Lawrence are silent as they stare at their friend through the phone. A’whora seems perturbed, then narrows her eyes at them before she speaks again.

“You two didn’t actually…believe you got married, did you? I thought you knew it was a bullshit prank.”

Before she can register Lawrence’s reaction, Ellie’s mouth drops open in shock. She grabs the phone from Lawrence’s hands and yells at A’whora as if she’s in front of her and not in her own room down the corridor. “A’whora! I am going to fucking kill you!”

A’whora’s laugh comes through the phone like a crackly screech, and Ellie doesn’t miss the unimpressed look from Lawrence at having been unable to style out the fact they’d both been duped. Ellie can’t even let that bother her, though, because she’s too busy tripping over herself to retell to A’whora their rollercoaster of a thought process from this morning.

Lawrence shakes her head beside her, loath to admit she’d been fooled too. “I didn’t believe it for a second. She’s talking out her arse.”

Ellie cries out, affronted. “You were telling me I had to take your last name not even five minutes ago!”

A’whora has to wipe tears from her eyes by the time the pair of them have told her the whole story. “Oh my God, guys. This has been the best birthday present of the weekend. I actually think I’m gonna wee myself. Fuck!”

“I can’t believe you told us we got married and we just…believed you!”

“Well, no, you did get married,” A’whora says.

With this revelation, it crosses Ellie’s mind to lock herself in the hotel sauna until she’s cooked through. “What in the name of God-”

As she continues to speak though, A’whora clarifies. “Or at least, you said you both wanted to marry each other. That conversation did take place. Bimini started joking they were an ordained minister. They showed you their provisional drivers’ license and told you it was a minister’s license. You were both so drunk you believed it.”

“Christ in a wheelie bin,” Lawrence groans.

“But you’re not actually married married. It was just pretend. And hey! We had fun. You should do it for real some day,” A’whora cackles.

If she was in the room with her, Ellie would slap her.

They finish the call with the promise to be packed and ready to meet to check out at half twelve, and when Lawrence locks her phone the pair of them laugh softly about the idiots they’d both been. Ellie is glad A’whora phoned. The conversation that had been taking place prior had been about to go down a route she hadn’t wanted it to, and she’s glad there’s no reason for it to be brought up again. She can go back to keeping her crush on her friend a secret, never to be unearthed.

“I should probably go and start getting packed, then,” Lawrence says decisively, getting up from the bed and making to leave. Ellie remembers what she put on the bedside table, and reaches out to pick it up as she tells Lawrence to wait.

As Lawrence turns around, Ellie holds out her grandmother’s ring, feeling a little awkward as she does so. “Here. Since we’re not married anymore. It came off in the end.”

Lawrence looks a little sheepish as she accepts it with a soft thanks. She gives it a little smile, then shoots the same one at Ellie. “Thank fuck for that.”

There isn’t any malice to her words. If Ellie was being hopeful she’d maybe even say there was regret.

Lawrence leaves and she can’t shake the little niggling feeling of sadness that embeds itself under a synapse in her brain.

***

The cold air that comes with the beginning of Autumn is welcome to Ellie as she sits and waits on Tayce to bring the car round. She’s not quite fully recovered from her hangover, but packing, checking out and getting a can of Monster from a vending machine in the lobby has done wonders for her mood. There’s also the fact that she doesn’t have a potential marriage to consider, so that’s good. That’s a relief.

A crunch of gravel behind her makes her turn around, and seeing Lawrence wrapped up in her black hoodie makes Ellie feel mixed emotions. She feels silly for getting so caught up in the whole idea of them having been married, the way she’d panicked and immediately thought it was all real, taking A’whora and Tayce’s comments at face value. She’s embarrassed at how she’d taken it all so seriously, and most of all she’s embarrassed that Lawrence was there for every reaction.

“Hey,” she greets her, already feeling a blush grow on her face. “You recovered?”

“Just about, yeah,” Lawrence laughs softly. She gestures to the mango loco that’s in Ellie’s hand. “Can see you’re clearly feeling loads better.”

Ellie matches her laugh, raises the can up in a solo cheers. As she drops her arm again, she sighs a little.

“Listen, Lawrence, sorry about…this morning. Immediately panicking and getting so worked up and intense with it all. I was just hangy and emotional and I had the fear…you know what it’s like.”

“It’s no problem. Don’t worry,” Lawrence brushes her off. Her expression is troubled though, as if there’s something else she wants to say. The unspoken words are loud and stifling, and then Lawrence finally meets her gaze with a nervous one of her own. “Well, marriage didn’t really work for us. But…d’you think drinks would be better?”

Ellie’s heart is going to give out. She can’t cope with the events of the day at all. She can already feel her pulse speeding up with hope so she frowns at Lawrence slightly, clarifying like a child tugging the string of a balloon to bring it back to earth. “Drinks?”

“Yeah, like,” Lawrence shrugs, looks to the ground bashfully. “For a date. If you want.”

All at once it’s as if her blood has just suddenly exploded in her veins. It feels like Ellie is on some sort of other-worldly come-up as she blinks at her friend, her friend she’s had a crush on since fuck-even-knows-when, and is stunned into silence.

“The snapchat you sent me last night,” Lawrence continues, scrolling her phone and holding the screen out for Ellie to see. “I’ve felt like that too for a while now.”

Ellie is cringing as she reads the white text against the black screen- a screenshot of her message sent to Lawrence at one in the morning, which reads “so glad whe’re marrrued for rwal vc ive reallt luked you for ages and i quitr fancg u a lot acfually x"

“How did you even manage to read what that says,” Ellie screws her face up, failing to address the bigger picture.

Lawrence smiles, a little hint of a twinkle to her eyes that makes Ellie’s heart thump. “I knew what you meant.”

There’s a small pause where Ellie blushes and looks to the ground, handing Lawrence her phone back. Lawrence uses the silence to keep talking.

“I know I like to rip the piss sometimes, and I know I can take it too far. But today all of that was about…verbalising everything I thought you were feeling about me. Trying to reassure you that I wasn’t interested in you because I thought that’s what you wanted. Once I started I just…didn’t stop, I guess. Damage control, you know? I’m sorry, Ellie,” she reels off quietly. She’s not hiding behind any jokes and she’s not making fun of Ellie and she’s not making fun of herself. It’s honest and simple and raw and everything Ellie’s wanted.

She scuffs some gravel with her shoe. “You feel the same, then?”

Lawrence presses her lips together. Ellie can tell she’s nervous. “Yeah. I do.”

“I do? Is that some kind of sick joke?!” Ellie laughs, and as Lawrence joins in she suddenly hesitates. “Wait. This isn’t a joke, is it?”

“Well, I’ve had enough fucking pranks for one day and I’m pretty sure you have too.”

The pair of them share a laugh, and as Tayce’s car appears from round at the hotel car park, Ellie fixes Lawrence with a smile.

“Drinks sound good.”

Tayce and A’whora appear from the car and pop the boot open, and Lawrence and Ellie try and fail to bite back the smiles they’re shooting each other as they carry their suitcases over, a mutual agreement that they’ll talk more about their plans when they don’t have their nosy and shit-stirring friend and her equally nosy and shit-stirring girlfriend with them on their way to drop them off at the train station.

It’s not quite a shotgun wedding, and it’s not quite a marriage in Vegas. But a date and a drink with the friend she’s hidden her feelings from for too many years is a good place to start.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #are you in love with a notion #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #a'whora #tayce #uk2 #lesbian au #marriage #fluff

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years ago

Note

hiii 5 30 and 32 for harrison pls (my king <3)

5. Your oc has to make something for an art exhibition. What would they make? How terrible is it? Would they enjoy making it?

on one hand Harrison would do something like splat paint on a canvas OR have y’all seen the episode of suite life on deck when zack sneezes jelly on a canvas and all the rich white people are like yessss we love itttttt THAT would be the art he makes! (yes i’m watching shows from the 2000s ok it’s breakdown time) ON THE OTHER HAND harrison is actually a visual artist lol (I always forget this because it seems so out of character but it’s been canon since book 1!) SO! if anybody follows SLEW on YouTube, that’s totally how his art would look! Either way he’d love making it! he would draw Lonan yes I said it (I have a few scenes I cut out from Feeding Habits where he actually does this which I’ll put under the cut)!

30. What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

Harrison knows a lot about building things and taking them apart etc though I can never do that justice for him because I am incompetent at both :) that is definitely expected he just has that vibe (is it because he wears flannel?? maybe??) like I said he is also a visual artist so I would assume??? knows a lot about art history?? I don’t enjoy art history because I have no attention span but I think he would love that and know tons of little facts and that would totally be surprising to others! again I probably don’t do him justice in that field because I was the worst at art history!

32. What five ingredients would you throw into a cauldron to make a potion based on your oc? How would you cook/mix them? What would the potion do?

The 5 ingredients would be 1) WAFFLES (loves them, would die for them), 2) pasteis de nata (LOVES these I cannot blame him) 3) coffee (he has no blood it’s just coffee) 4) cinnamon (i just re-read book 6 of fostered and the amount of times reeve compares harrison to cinnamon?? yall i’m no longer calling it cinnamon i’ll be calling it harrison) and 5) hot sauce (because he’s SPICY). Because Harrison is chaotic I would put it all in a blender and make a smoothie :) The potion would make you ~happy and ~relaxed and just generally chill and in love even if that’s with yourself (the only vibes harrison wants)!

This is the first Harrison Drawing Lonan moment which is from a subplot that no longer exists!

In his room, he scales his bed and tacks sketches to the ceiling with dashes of masking tape. He is so fast, if anyone sees him do this, they will question their sanity, and by the time he’s done and all the pieces are up, he’s in the centre of a black hole, and the black hole is a single face of charcoal, and the face has got hair that carves his forehead like raven wings, his eyes swathes of cyan pastel, his body staining Harrison’s hands irreparably and hours later, Harrison lies on his sheetless bed like the next star waiting to be vacuumed into the mouth of his muse.

(why am i fangirling over my own writing it’s so CUTE i cannot harrison loves lonan so much oh my he really does!!)

This is a random flashback that never really went anywhere?? but apparently it’s an entire scene oops! maybe I’ll put it somewhere if it fits!

Lonan’s eyes in monochrome still look like the ocean. He’s vivid in charcoal, a good model, slushing the rind off a mandarin.

They sit knee-to-knee on the jute mat by the hearth. Fire icebergs Lonan’s retinas and embers pinch his hair.

Harrison scrawls onto a scrap advertisement for a washing machine set, Lonan’s jaw melding with its Best Offer: $599 Two Piece. He is firelit and juddering with heat. He is peeling the mandarin like its his own work of art, each removal tear of skin nearly a fresco, ready for auction. He is the only thing Harrison is interested in studying.

Harrison finishes a flare of Lonan’s hair. From above the notebook he watches, aware he is noticed, so unashamed in his staring. Tonight, Lonan is his raven with the ocean in his eyes, his muscle memory, his magnum opus. At one point, Harrison no longer looks up to check his reference; he remembers exactly where every slot of him goes.

On Harrison’s last lick of hair, Lonan has finished peeling the mandarin. The segments sit, unpaired like jewels. A line of juice dribbles off his palm. It is only inevitable that they lean toward each other, charcoal and citrus, and Lonan looks at the portrait and Harrison feeds off that fruit with fervor.

“It’s missing something,” Lonan says, their bodies criss-crossed as Lonan examines the portrait and Harrison eats the mandarin. When Lonan gestures for the pencil, Harrison nudges it to him.

Lonan retrieves it and leans over Harrison so their hands morph. The pencil makes contact once more with the paper, and together they pull lines against the paper, curve up, hook down, hatch. They move in singularity, their fingerprints one fingerprint, their palms one palm. Harrison tastes mandarin, so Lonan does too. Lonan stamps charcoal onto his ring finger, so Harrison does too.

By the time they’re finished, the portrait has become two. Lonan’s right charcoal eye becomes the left charcoal eye of another face, Harrison’s, their faces combined into monochrome together.

It is inevitable, not choice, when their single hand tears the portrait from the book and reels it into the wall of flame. It is inevitable, not choice, to simultaneously feel a jilt of joy for at last burning together.

did harrison just call lonan his magnum opus oh my GOD so cute okay i’m going to go bye!!

#asks

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crackcrocs · 4 years ago

Text

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿ if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

#LCZABIBU #deathwillonlybethebeginning

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gagmebucky · 5 years ago

Text

a little out of my depth on this one. don’t be too harsh! 😅

anonymous asked: pls dont shame me for this lmao 🥺 but could you write something about bucky masturbating with the reader’s panties? like he found them on her floor or something and he took them and jerked himself off with them and nutted into them oof 🥴 imma pass out

[neighbor!bucky. masturbation. doll.]

But he’s fueled by the euphoria tunneling into his very being by working your silk up and down his cock, clinched like a vice with corkscrewing motions; he’s fueled by the knowledge that hours before this, you’d been laid up in that luscious bed, legs spread, a dainty hand shoved between them—his name probably on your lips as you rubbed your fingertips against your cloth-clad clit until you doused it with your sticky essence.

in which you drive bucky to do something he ever thought he would. (includes neighbor!bucky, bucky’s pov, dirty talk via reader, masturbation.)

do not repost.

—

Bucky Barnes doesn’t do cat and mouse. Because, at the end of the day, he’s a wolf and catching a lamb is a mere matter of flashing his teeth.

There’s no need to chase because his charm is effortless. Dames are already lining up, begging him to take them to bed, so he’s never believed in needlessly pursuing another. To some guys, it’s a sport, a way to boost their ego, but to him, it’s a waste of time and he isn’t that insecure.

Until now. Until you moved in next door with your seductive looks, enthralling smile and cheeky remarks. There’s too much about you to pinpoint one specific aspect that draws him in like a ship into a storm.

Maybe it’s because when he flashed you his baby blues and rumbled your name with a naturally husky edge and laid a surefire pickup line on you but you just laughed and shook your head. Maybe it’s because he sees you everyday, getting your mail, lounging by the pool, or purposely changing in the window across from his and a figure that sexy is driving him mad. Maybe it’s because he watches the way you bewitch and throw away your many suitors in the same manner he does.

All he knows is that he wants you. On your knees, on your back, on top of him. And while he’s never had to try before, he’s positive you’ll fall like the rest. In no time, he’ll utter a few filthy litanies that’ll have your head spinning and your panties dropping.

That’s what he decides on a particular Saturday night when the speakers from your place vibrate over to his. It’s low enough that he can ignore it, but it’s loud enough that it’s not weird that it coins his attention. So fuck the former because he’s a man on a mission, and he refuses to fail.

Once he’s checked his stubbled jaw and half-hearted chocolate brown bouffant looks in the mirror, he throws something expensive and stylish on before he strides on over with determination ladening his combat boot-clad steps.

The stars are outshines by the extravagance of your little shindig. Your two-story is lit up completely, in both lights and populace. People are filtering in and out through your opened front door, laughing and smiling with the faint scent of liquor lingering in the air.

Women and the occasional guy pay him greedy glances, too intoxicated to give a damn about how obvious they’re being. Other than a cocky tilt of his lips, he gives the vaguely familiar faces no recognition. His mind is on one thing—you—and there’s a flurry of tactics he’s considering to reel you in with.

He weaves through the throng and locates your kitchen where the drinks are being handed out. Not by you, but a girl he remembers you’re pretty close to, and she blushes every time she sees him. And right now is no different.

Her cheeks burn red as he’s next in line. “H - hi, Bucky,” she breathes and nervously tucks a stray of hair behind her ear. “What would you like? There’s wine coolers, beer, vodka. . .” her voice trails off when she looks behind him, giving a nod before wordlessly scurrying off.

“Crashing my house party, Barnes?” your musically simpering voice calls and turns him around; greeting him is the sight of your alluring form adorned in a short dress. You click your tongue in a tsk and shake your head disapprovingly. “Not very neighborly of you.”

“Not inviting me to your house party? Not very neighborly of you, doll,” he retorts smoothly, the riposte matching your tone’s fluctuation while his eyes drink you in. The satin wrapped around your skin is cut low, giving him an eyeful of your décolletage, and it stops at the middle of your thighs; suddenly he’s aware how easy it would be to do away with the flimsy fabric.

You fail to suppress a smile. “Considering you fucked most of the guests here, I thought it’d be bad taste.”

His eyebrow lifts, and he casts a glance around to acknowledge he had, indeed, fucked most of your friends. “Haven’t fucked them all.” He shrugs and regards you with a confident half-smirk, adding, “Not yet, anyway.”

You titter and fold your arms, inadvertently jiggling your breasts in the process. “In your dreams.”

He licks his bottom lip and shamelessly admits, “I do dream about you, doll. A lot, actually.” Stepping forward, he crowds you against the wall. He flashes his teeth as he stares you down. “Under me, begging and moaning my name, wrapped around my cock while I pound your little pussy drippin’ full of me.”

For a moment, you‘re stunned, and he knows his words have you throbbing—the look on your face is familiar, one he‘s invoked within woman after woman. Your breathing hitches, and your eyes dilate with unmistakable desire. “Y - you wish,” you finally say in a lame attempt to laugh it off and push past him.

He catches you by the wrist, his fingers dwarfing your tiny limb, and tugs you gently in place so your back is flush against the upright surface once more. This time, both of his hands splay at the spaces between your shoulder and head, cornering you with only an inch separating your bodies.

“Yeah,” he agrees because he does—his advances are proof of that—and he’s not afraid to own up to it. “But you do, too. You want me every bit as much as I do you.” His eyes drag over your body slow and deliberate as if he can see through your very soul. “It’s obvious. The way you look at me, how your nipples are always hard, when you squeeze your thighs together and think you’re being subtle. You aren’t.” His nose almost touches yours. “Just stop it with the charade and admit that you want me, and I’ll fuck you until you’re crying and can’t stop cumming around my cock.”

You’re wavering. A battle rages in your narrowed irises, mouth slightly ajar like you’re trying to form a response. It takes a minute—going over the reason for your nonsensical resistance and debating the necessity of it all—but you figure one out, and he doesn’t know where the composture comes from when it grips you.

Your lashes flutter against your cheekbones, and you breathe a strong, “No.” Tables turned, he falters backward somewhat in astonishment, but on that same exhale, you confess, “I do want you. I want you in every way under the sun. I think about it constantly. What your hands would feel like on me instead of mine. . . if it were your fingers rubbing me to an orgasm instead of my own, or knuckle deep inside me. If I’d be able to take two of your thick fingers, or if I’d be too tight.”

Each word hits him like a punch in the gut; the sentences ooze wanton honesty, syllables drawn like honey, spoken to fan against his lips tantalizingly. Gaze transfixed on him, he can see the kaleidoscope of sinful fantasies flitting through your mind. He’s sure you can see the feral flame igniting within his.

Of course, you don’t stop. “I think about how’d you cock looks. . . feels, buried inside me, or fucking my throat. I think about how’d I’d want you to take pictures so I can see my cheeks stuffed, eyes glossy, lips wet with spit and your cum,” you say so simply one might assume you’re talking about the weather. “Most of all, I think about how I know that once you start, I won’t want you to stop even when I tell you to. I’d want you to keep going until I physically can’t, until the only thing I have to ability to do is seize up around your cock, again and again.”

Your voice has taken on a libertine rasp, translating into a sound that sends a shiver down his spine as you toss your head back and laugh. “God,” you whisper before pushing to your tippy toes, in tandem with fisting his shirt, to speak into his ear. “You should see the amount of panties I’ve ruined because of you. Really high end ones no good ‘cause I’m soaked thinkin’ about what you’d do to me if you got the chance—if I gave you one. Matter of fact, soaked one just this morning thinking about you. It’s why I’m not wearing any right now.”

Adrenaline and raw hunger flood his veins rushes to his dick. His heart thumps like a jungle drum while concupiscence roars demandingly between his ears; air expels harshly through his nostrils like a bull before charging. He follows the instinct but you dart out of reach knowingly.

“But no.” You smirk, several feet away now, preening at the way he palms himself uncomfortably through his jeans, and how his jaw ticks. “Those are just fantasies. You won’t ever get to learn what I sound like in the throes of an orgasm, James. I don’t care if I have to abuse every sex toy I have but I am not fucking you. So I suggest you pick someone else around here to be another notch on your belt and fix that—” You nod to the swelled bulge straining against denim, and you declare, “—cause it won’t be me.”

Without so much as a goodbye, you disappear into the mass of grinding bodies, leaving him painfully hard and alone.

He can’t get it out of his head. He can’t get you out of his head. An hour later, and your encounter throbs at the base of his skull in unison with an erection. Every line, the tone and the twinkle in your eyes as you said them play like a mantra but instead of calming him down, it only drives him further insane.

There’s been plenty of interests thrown his way, offers to “help” him with his not-so-little problem caged in his pants, and as tempting as they are, he can’t bring himself to. It’s pathetic, and he nearly punched a wall because seriously when did he become the type of person who’s spurred on by rejection—bittersweet rejection, as yours was.

That speech, laced with provocation though it was, should’ve been it. Right? He should’ve left, and his dick should be flaccid, and your face, name and existence should never cross his mind again. Yet, here he is, locked in your upstairs bathroom, (because there’s a line otherwise, and he ignored the sign saying do not cross in front of the stairs), unsuccessfully trying to jacking himself off.

“Fuck!” he just about snarls as his body refuses to give him relief. His third try, and he’s still hard as a rock. Being wound up is only making it worse but he can’t help it; you’re just as teasing in his mind as you are in real life. “Fuck it.”

He tucks himself in perfunctorily, shirt ruffled and button and zipper undone, and swings the door open haphazardly. He’s gonna fuck one of your friends and pretend it’s you—that it’s you who’s finally given in to let him play as pleases. And he’ll give his best performance, pull out all the stops so she’ll rave to you in the morning.

That brings a faint smile to his lips. The thought of your best friend ranting to you about how good he fucked her with every detail down to the second has him giddy, and the possibility that you'll masturbate to the hypothetical story suddenly strikes him.

Mid-walk in the hallway, intention on returning to the party and enacting his plan, he stops. He whirls around, and there, he spots it. The master bedroom—your bedroom, and your innately sultry voice echoes, “You should see the amount of panties I’ve ruined because of you.”

And he takes that as an invitation.

Because you explicitly stated not to go beyond the first level and you apparently trust the herd of drunks below, your door is unlocked; so all he has to do is twist the knob and push in, revealing your sleeping chambers in its almost immaculate glory.

Cream walls encase a room bigger than his with similarly toned furniture sitting against it. In the middle of mahogany dressers, a grand vanity and a flat screen television is your bed, framed in dark brown wood with a king-sized mattress on top, made neatly in a fluffy white comforter and throw pillows.

While everything else seems to be pristine, surfaces shining without a speck of dust in sight, items tidily put away, your floor isn’t. Although it does have a mopped sheen, it’s littered in clothing. Yours, clearly, a trail of them leading to the connected bathroom. Amid various dresses and bras, there’s a single pair of panties straddling the threshold; black cotton is displayed with the inside of the triangle panel flipped up, and dark cotton is lightened with a shimmer of residual wet.

Before Bucky can think about his next move, he’s already picking them up. He clenches the black silk in his hand and instinctively brings them to his nose. Inhaling deeply, a groan wrenches out of his throat from the scent of your feminine musk.

The olfactory sensory neurons fires to his brain until he’s left with feeling like he just took a shot of the finest liquor. It rattles him to the very bones and electrifies his insides. Smarting shocks needle across his skin while every part of him vibrates with excuritating arousal.

“Goddamn,” he half-chokes, half-growls, his chest falling and lifting raggedly because you smell so fucking good he can practically taste it. It’s uniquely you, but unmistakably stained with the universal scent of cum, and otherwise confirms what you said earlier, that you had drenched them because of him.

And he doesn’t even try to stop as he hurriedly snakes his cock from its confines. With one hand, he holds onto the doorframe; the other, with your used panties webbed across his palm, pinches himself at the girthy base. No lubricant is needed because his tip has been weeping ever since he first saw you and hasn’t stopped dribbling down his well-endowed length.

Slicked up, he grits his teeth and works the worn attire along his erection. Somewhere in his mind, he expects to fail again at self-pleasure like before, but it seems having your orgasm drenched silk swathed around him helps tremendously with that.

A tremor wracks his body, hips jutting forth in a consequential thrust. “Oh, f - fuck,” he rasps at the warm feeling prickling from the tips of his toes to his fingers. To think, he can have a harem of women on their knees for him but instead, he prefers getting more satisfaction this.

If it didn’t feel so fucking good, maybe he’d feel embarrassed—have some sort of shame for such a depraved act.

“S - shit,” he moans the curse. His forehead falls onto the doorframe, and his nails engraved crescents into the painted wood. Though he may try to muffle them with his plump bottom lip stressed between his teeth, throaty sounds wrest out of his chest and fill the room, an erotic soundtrack in junction with the wet squelching of his hand pumping his cock.

You besiege his mind, rule with an iron fist while he desperately fucks his own in lieu of you. Your face, your body, and all the turpitude he’d inflict on you because he’d want to consume you in the same way you’ve done him. He’d—he will—show you things those other guys can’t even dream of; you’ll be hooked on him like he is on you.

A fever is building rampantly within him; he heats like leather in the sun, lava boiling under his skin in preparation to explode. Every defined muscle in his body is coiled with escalating tension while his strokes are becoming sloppier and sloppier. More concentrated at his sensitive tip, he’s coated your black silk in lurid splashes of precum, sluicing your used panties so thoroughly his palm is swamped by the almost-translucent fluid.

In an embarrassing amount of minutes, the crux approaches at the speed of a comet. A mental imagining flickers through his psyche, snapshots of you, completely undone; tits bouncing as he drives inside you, your inviting lips opened in an o as you exude the prettiest moans and whimpers, his thumb strumming your clit like instrument string as he pummels your channel, the look on your face when he finally blows his load.

That thought does it.

“Shit, shit, shit—!” Sensations coalesce, and warmth frays his nerves. Your name tears pass this lips, strangled and breathy, while his hips thrust forward in completion. The volcano erupts, and stream after stream spills into the thin material for what feels like forever.

His senses skew, blurring as he rides out the highest relief he’s ever felt. Shuddering, he milks every last bit before the intensity dwindles, and he returns to reality; the reality that, yes, he had just experienced a mind blowing orgasm thanks to a measly pair of panties—your used panties.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters to himself, softening as he tucks himself away and shoves the silk into his pocket. “I’ve really got it bad, don’t I?”

[masterlist / feedback]

#bucky x reader #bucky x you smut #bucky barnes imagines #marvel imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel x you #this is very.... ? to me because i literally cannot tell if it's hot or not or if it just comes across awkward #??#anyway i'm gonna go 2 bed for a lil bit but i wanted to post this!!#i understand if no one really interacts w this because i don't think i did it right? idk i'll try to dabble with it in the future to perfect #but for now! here we are

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thelordofdarkreunion · 4 years ago

Text

Magnificent Scoundrels- Pariah

This was an absolute blast to write. I find that the interactions between the different cultures and battles scenes are probably the most fun to write, in my opinion. Here, we have more Vir and Cain. We are introduced to Conn, so shenanigans will most definitely ensue. I’m not quite sure if they’re the type of shenanigans you’re thinking of though...

As always, none of these characters belong to me. Enjoy the story!

Aboard the Omen

Things had gotten better. Tensions were much lower, thanks to Simone’s suggestion that Cain watch the Omen’s ground forces and Vir take up the Commissarial duties of the Valhallans. Both groups seemed to be more comfortable with each other. There were still competitions, of course, and they were still exceptionally competitive, of course, but they had lost their malevolent edge. Much was still to be learnt, however. Each side still retained quirks and habits that, to the other, seemed exceptionally odd.

The common Imperials were still xenophobic. A lifetime of teachings and practice couldn’t be changed in a matter of days or weeks. While both Vir and Cain preaching tolerance certainly helped, it did not eliminate the problem all together. It had gone from ‘I’m going to possibly shoot you on sight’ to ‘stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.’ A definite improvement, all things considered.

There were still other oddities, as mentioned before. Not counting the posting of armed guards, any crew member of the Omen could instantly tell where the Valhallan quarters aboard the ship were. As benefitted ice worlders, their comfortable ambient temperature was slightly higher than freezing, and they set the air conditioning in their section of the ship to match. Vir found himself wearing heavy winter gear when he stayed with them for extended periods. He was also fairly certain there were a couple of them camped out in the cooling ducts, but there were no reports of damage or any mechanical problems, so he decided to let that slide.

However, Admiral Vir and his crew were a lot better off than the Imperials, seeing as they were used to strange and occasionally egomaniacal aliens aboard their ship. They had open minds.

To the Imperials, everything was just so… bizzare. It was like being in a completely other dimension. Here, aliens and humans got along. Talked together, fought together, laughed together. The Admiral was not a distant figure of authority, but instead more like a wise and older friend, ready to help you along any path you chose. Hell, the ship’s officers talked with the crew. You could actually see them walking through the halls. On Imperial vessels that transported soldiers, the Naval crew stayed in their area, and the infantry in theirs, with only the high ranking officers speaking to each other.

Then there was the ship itself. Like any proud naval personnel, the crew of the Omen liked to brag about their vessel. Apparently, it was brand new. Brand. New. Only in service for a year or more. What kind of ship was that? Usually, the troop ships of the Imperium were in service for centuries, if not millennia, and the Naval fighting platforms even longer. The oldest vessel Cain had ever been aboard was the massive battleship Throne Eternal, built during the days of the Great Crusade, some ten thousand years before.

Perhaps it was the fact that the ship was brand new, but it was so incredibly clean. The hallways were neat and sterilized. There was no accumulated grime. No comforting iconography. From the outside, the ship looked like a brick. It was all steely grey metal. It was so strange. So foreign. So distinctly… un-Imperial.

But, in the end, despite the oddities, it could be said that things were a lot more calm aboard. And so, it was with no small amount of alarm that Admiral Adam Vir remembered that Conn was aboard the ship.

Conn was an alien, which would have already put him on the Imperial’s bad side. But that, in and of itself, was not the problem. You see, Conn was a starborn, quite possibly the most unusual alien species in the galaxy. Ghostlike, they were small, white, and lived in the cold void of space. Accustomed to the blackness, they could not survive in any areas with gravity’s pressure without external help. But, much like an annoying infomercial, there was more. Starborns were natural telepaths. They could read the minds of almost any living being. Conn in particular was quite annoying about it. He reveled in the sensation of knowing everyone’s deepest secrets, and made no qualms about being nice about it. Most of the crew, Adam in particular, found him, to put it mildly, extremely annoying. He was kept around because he wasn’t truly malicious, despite indications otherwise, and his usefulness outweighed his flaws.

Vir had a sort of… connection with Conn. Due to an unfortunate accident that resulted in the loss of his eye, part of his brain had been skewered, making it easier for him to communicate telepathically. The strangest part of all of this was the fact Vir hadn’t heard from Conn the entire voyage. That was definitely not a good thing. Who knew what sort of mischief that could be wrought. He was fairly certain that Conn was not missing because he was wise enough to stay hidden from the Imperials. No. Something else was afoot.

So, with trepidation, he began his search.

Conn was not in any of his usual haunts. He wasn’t floating around annoying people, wasn’t where he usually lurked in the medical bay. No one had seen him. Not the engineers, the doctors, the marines, or any of the bridge crew. How very odd. It seemed as if no one had heard from him from the moment they had set off. So Vir had to do it the old fashioned way: wander around the ship, thinking as loud as he could to attract Conn’s attention.

It was only when he started to go in the passageways closest to the exterior of the hull that he started to get a response.

Conn? Conn? Can you hear me? Where are you?

I can’t hear… Emptiness. Void. Nothing. Nothing. He’s nothing. Nothing!

Conn? Where are you?

The darkness. Alone. Pain. Can't hear voices. Can’t hear thoughts.

Conn! Where are you? What’s wrong? I can’t help if you don’t tell me.

Slowly, through the telepathic link, he started to see where Conn was. Outside the vessel. Starborn were more comfortable and could survive in space. Conn was known to go in and out of the airlock of his own free will… but that didn’t explain why he had been there for so long. It also didn’t explain the strange mutterings and thoughts.

Adam? You’re here. You can hear me. Good. Not alone anymore. Something was very wrong. Conn was a jackass, through and through. Vir had never heard thankfulness and relief from him before.

Yes. I’m here. He tried to make the thought as reassuring as possible. Conn, what’s wrong? What is the problem?

It’s him. The closest thing to a mental hiss came with that word. He’s nothing! Pain. Misery. Alone with my thoughts!

Conn-

The void! Blackness. I can’t hear anything! I can’t hear!

Conn. Calm down.

Yes! Yes. The second yes was much more calm.

You can’t hear others’ thoughts? Is that it?

Yes. A vigorous telepathic nod.

Why? I’ve never heard of anything like that happening before.

It’s because of him! The thoughts were becoming hysterical again. He snuffs it out. He’s a void, a-

Conn! Stay focused. Who is he?

He- ARGHH! The mental connection was abruptly cut as a searing pain shot through Vir’s body. He collapsed to his hands and knees. He felt as if he did a long time ago, wounded and feverish during the Drev War with no painkillers. His mind was white hot, his body wracked with agony. The edges of his vision started to turn black. No! Don’t pass out! rebelled some far away part of his mind.

“Admiral!” said a voice, seemingly far away. He focused on the voice. Deep breaths. Come on. Stay conscious. The blackness receded. The voice got stronger.

“Admiral, sir! Are you all right?” asked someone hesitantly. Vir shifted his weight to his side and clutched his head. What the hell happened?

“Yeah, I think I’ll be alright,” he murmured. He shook his head to clear it of any last vestiges of pain. “What was… doesn’t matter.” He turned, and found himself face to face with a most unexpected individual. Jurgen, the Commissar’s aide.

“Good to know that you’re alright, sir.” A grimy hand reached out and handed Vir a data pad. “The Commissar wanted me to give you this.”

“Ah, yes. Personnel rosters. Thank you, Jurgen. I won’t take up any more of your time.” Jurgen saluted and walked away, leaving Vir staring, perplexed, at the pad in his hands.

Vir lay on his bed, gazing at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. The mystery of Conn’s telepathic severance was dancing through his mind. What was he talking about? Some sort of void… Some strange monster, lurking in space, perhaps? No. Think logically. Go through this step by step. What do you know? First, Conn was isolated. There was something severing his telepathic communication. Second, that something was a someone. It was a he. Third, this hadn’t happened before the Imperials had arrived on board. Therefore, logically, this person was one of the Imperials, causing the cutting of telepathic communications and pain to anyone using them. Okay. Good. We’ve established that. Now what? Who was doing it? Were they even aware they were doing it? How was it even possible to do something like that? Some strange technology? Possible. That made sense. Perhaps they had fought some telepathic aliens in their galaxy, and developed something to stop it.

But, still. He squirmed slightly. How… who… what… why? None of this made sense. How to get to the bottom of this mystery? He couldn’t figure it out, so perhaps someone else could. Cain? Cain would probably know. But did he trust Cain? That was an entirely different matter. It could be on Cain’s orders. Hell, it could be Cain himself. Cain’s aide? Out of everyone aboard, Vir had a nagging feeling that something was wrong with that man. Plus, the pain had only started when Jurgen had come close to him…

So… Jurgen, then. Most likely suspect. But how? How could he find out? Hmm…

A search of the Imperial quarters and armory yielded no results. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. While their equipment was strange, everything he found had been earlier explained to him. Nothing. So either it was a device small enough to hide on a person, or it wasn’t a device at all. Conn had said he. Perhaps it had nothing to do with technology.

Vir decided, therefore, to have Katie and Kril, the ship’s doctors, to test every single one of the Imperials for anything strange. HIdden behind the facade of making sure they were disease free, they all had a physical examination done, and blood and tissue samples drawn. It was… less than helpful.

Kril did the equivalent of a human sigh as he put down the blood readouts. Katie was still studying them with perplexity.

“So, did you find anything out of the ordinary?” asked Vir.

“That’s the problem. Everything is out of the ordinary,” replied Kril.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that- well, let me explain. So, you know how evolution works, right? Over time, all organic species naturally evolve.” “Yes. And?” asked Vir. He didn’t see where this was going.

“So, Drake gave you timelines for all of our galaxies, didn’t he? He says, and from what I can tell, he’s right, that our timelines split somewhere around the year 2000. Now, every single one of our galaxies is in a different time since then. Most of the other galaxies are around the early second century C.E., in human measurements. Ours and Drake’s are in the early fourth centuries C.E. Cain and the Imperials are from 40,000 C.E. Plus, none of them are from Earth, whereas most everyone else we’ve met is from Earth or from a planet close enough to Earth for the evolution tendencies not to be affected in any major way. So, to sum up, most of them are from an ice planet 38,000 years in the future. We have no idea what we’re seeing here. All of these genes are very different from the human’s I’ve studied before. I can’t tell what’s abnormal or not. I could figure it all out, but it might take a month or more.” Wonderful. Vir sighed.

“Thanks for trying Kril. I guess I’ll have to figure this out some other way.”

Now he was back in his bed, mulling things over. This had to stop. He couldn’t allow Conn, annoying as he was, to suffer like this. Conn was, after all, part of his crew. There was no other solution. He had to see Cain. But, what if Cain was doing this, or it was being done on his orders? Vir looked over to the suit of Iron Eye armor resting gently in its place. He walked over, and started to buckle on the plates. This had a liability to get messy.

Cain looked up at the sharp knock on the door. Jurgen hadn’t stopped whomever it was, so it must be Vir.

“Come in,” he replied politely. Sure enough, Vir walked through the door into his borrowed quarters. “Admiral Vir. A pleasure to see you. What brings you here today?” Vir shifted, slightly uncomfortable. This was going to be awkward, at the very least. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you, though.” He gave a slight cough. “I wondered if I might talk to you, however.”

“Of course,” replied Cain. “What about?” Vir scratched the back of his neck.

“Uh, well, there’s no easy way to put this.” He took a deep breath to compose himself. “You see, there are some crew members that you haven’t seen before.”

“I rather had the feeling. More… aliens, no doubt.”

“Heh. Yes. However, there is one in particular. He is of a, uh, most peculiar species… well, he can read minds,” finished Vir lamely. Cain looked up sharply from where he was sitting, fingers moving instinctively for his weapons.

“What?”

“Yes. You heard me right. However, that is not the problem,” concluded Vir.

“And what would the problem be?” asked Cain warily, his hand inching closer to his sidearm.

“The problem is, he can’t. There is something or someone aboard this ship that blocks his mental communications and causes him untold agony. Now, while I personally find it annoying and distasteful to have my mind read, especially by him, he is in quite a lot of pain. This only started when you boarded. I’m not sure what is causing this, and I am not insinuating anything, but it has something to do with someone in your regiment, and I would like it to stop.” Cain stared at him with a calm and considered look.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Admiral Vir. I know nothing about aliens, so it could be something wrong with him,” he replied.

“I don’t think so,” said Vir. “You sure you don’t know anything about this?”

“No,” replied Cain. Vir sat up from his chair. One more card to play.

“Absolutely sure? Not even anything that has to do with, say, your aide?” Cain looked up at him, this time with a completely neutral expression on his face.

“I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Admiral. Good day.” Damn. Fine. Got to go out on a limb here. Vir leaned over the table, his earlier expression of calm gone, replaced with the attitude he assumed around unruly subordinates.

“Don’t bullshit me, Cain. You know what’s going on. And I will find out eventually, with or without your help. So if you want me to trust you, you’re going to tell me now.” Cain sighed, stood up, walked past Vir, and locked the door. Vir tensed, hidden Iron Eye servos whining, ready for any sudden movements. There were none. Cain stood face to face with Vir. He’s tall, idly mused some unnecessary part of Vir’s brain. Cain drew his pistol and held calmly out at his side.

“You are not going to tell anyone what is said here. If you do, if any sort of word of this gets out in any way, I will kill you,” he said in a deadly serious tone. He looked around, then sighed. “My aide, Jurgen, is a blank.” Vir gave him a look that plainly said ‘elaborate.’ Cain suddenly got a strange look in his eyes, then raised his gun a fraction. “If his powers work on your xeno telepath… then that means it has some sort of connection to the Warp.” The pistol came up, pointing directly between Vir’s eyes. “So now, you are going to tell me everything.” Vir struggled to remain calm. Cain wasn’t going to kill him, yet. He was fairly sure this was just another misunderstanding.

“I don’t know anything about any Warp. Conn is a straborn. They are born in space, and they can read minds naturally. That’s it.” Cain still looked as if he were going to put down the gun, then looked up sharply again.

“Innocentia nihil probat,” he murmured. “Jurgen! Get in here!” The door opened, and Jurgen stepped through. Apparently he had the key.

“Yes, Commissar?” Cain turned to Vir.

“We are going to search your ship. If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear.” Vir opened his mouth to make an objection, which Cain forestalled with a raised hand. “I learned a long time ago that it is better to explain too much caution than bleed for not enough.” He put a small communications node in his ear, then keyed it. “Colonel Kasteen, ready the regiment. Search the entire ship for any signs of Chaotic taint. This is a precaution, but you know what to do.” Cain turned once more to a bewildered Vir. “Tell your men to stand down. If they resist, they die.” He stepped back, then gestured towards the door. “After you. And, remember, our conversation was still confidential. If you tell anyone, you die.”

A cliffhanger. I know. Originally, I didn’t intend for it to end like this, but this is the way the story went and this is how this scenario would play out of the conversation actually took place. Above all, I strive to remain as accurate as possible to how these characters would actually interact, so that is why this went the way it did. I will have the ending to this up as soon as possible, so don’t worry! Wherever you are, have a great day.

#magnificent scoundrels #story #writing #my story #my writing #crossover #empyrean iris #warhammer 40k

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trouvelle · 4 years ago

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I love all your Heizuha contents!!!! Oneshots, drabbles, etc (memes too lol). And your ANGST FICS???? I'M DESTROYED. Just curious, if you are accepting requests, can you write happy shinran and heizuha oneshot? I need something to heal from your angsty AUs 😢😢😢😢💦💦

Hi hello thank you so much 🥺 AH YES HEIZUHA I’m HEART-EYES FOREVER 😍!! My hot-blooded Kendo boi and his Aikido (and Karuta) queen ugh they make me feel so soft. Wait—don’t be destroyed pls omg I have a shinran oneshot first for you right here! And yes it actually is a happy one. Although I gotta say I’m probably even worse at doing happy sappy fluff. But still, I hope you like this! ❤️❤️

Fandom: Detective Conan/DCMK Pairing: Shinichi/Ran Rating: G Genre/Tags: Romance, Fluff Summary: Ran hates being apart from Shinichi. All she wants is to feel his warmth next to her.

•

Ran is happy to be with Shinichi, even if it means not being physically together and having to survive long distance.

Now she would be lying if she says it doesn’t bother her in the slightest. After they got together and she finds out that Shinichi still has to leave for his ongoing case, her initial thought is that it wouldn’t bother her. She’s grown so used to it by now. It’s not like he’s never coming back, because he always does. After all, they just started dating, and maybe this way they’ll still be in their honeymoon stage for years to come.

They have been doing alright with frequent calls and texts sent to each other. Although she is slightly upset that they can’t physically go out on any dates, hearing Shinichi’s voice always makes everything worth it. She knows she’s going to forget all this as soon as she sees him again.

She does expect Shinichi to be as sad and lonely as she is, but she never asks about it. She doesn’t want him to think that she’s already turning clingy after only a few months into their relationship. And because she is an understanding girlfriend, she never tells him how she feels about it. She has been saying “I love you” more often though, now that she’s more comfortable saying it, which he always happily returned. She never once doubts Shinichi either—he gives her zero reasons to. Besides, they have short meet ups every now and then, and those feel like they are enough for her.

There are certain things that leaves her feeling an extra amount of longing. When she sees couples out and about in the streets, or strolling around the park, or fooling around in the hallway of their school, it breaks her heart a little. She wants Shinichi by her side, to be able to cuddle into his warmth. She wants to walk next to him and hold his hand, to go to the movies and check out cute restaurants.

“I miss you,” Ran mumbles into her mic, only one side of her earphones on. She is lying on her bed, on a call with her boyfriend who is still away, on yet another case. She has to cherish all their calls together because time is all she can afford.

She traces her finger on her phone’s screen, outlining his name that’s currently displayed, yearning to touch him. She can't help but feel disappointed when all she can feel is how hot her phone is. She should probably get a new phone soon.

“I miss you too. More than words can describe,” Shinichi replies guiltily, sad that Ran is so troubled. He has been trying to ease her pain by sneaking away to call her more often these days. He sees the longing in her eyes, always wondering what he can do for her. He hates it, hates seeing Ran’s face contort into sadness and what seems like disappointment. It never gets any easier.

If only she knows that they are actually together literally every single day.

“Anyway, how is your day?” Shinichi asked, trying to change the subject to distract her.

Ran huffs. “Conan-kun left on a weekend camping trip with his class. I’m worried about his safety. They’re elementary students, they’re not supposed to go camping in the mountains yet!”

Shinichi smiles fondly. Yep, he’s definitely on his camping trip all right.

“Also, it is kind of lonely here when he’s not around.” Lonelier, she adds to herself.

“You have nothing to worry about, I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Shinichi reassures, grinning.

“I suppose it’s true. Conan-kun does know how to take care of himself. What are you doing, anyway? Do you have to go soon? Can we switch to video call?” The hope in her voice is unmistakable. He purposely ignores Ran’s questions while wrecking his brain for a believable excuse to not switch to video call. But it is too late, she has already pressed the button that requested for him to accept the call.

Uh oh.

Shinichi curses silently. As soon as their cameras are on, he raises his phone up close to his face, careful to leave the streetlights out of view. “Hi!,” he says, hoping she wouldn’t detect the nervousness in his voice. Ran squints at the blurry screen. She can’t see much, but it is enough to make her whole evening better.

“You know what, Shinichi? It’s okay, you’re probably busy and tired, I understand! Have a good night or morning, wherever you are, okay?” Ran yawns, turning to lie on the other side as she reaches out to switch off her table lamp. “I’m already getting ready for bed anyway. Please stay safe out there. I love you.”

“NO!” Shinichi yells, before realizing how loud and unnecessary it is. He stops to look around, praying that no one around him is affected by the noise he is making. Ran is decently surprised. “Shinichi, what’s wrong?”

“I, uh, I’m staking out a criminal’s possible hideout. It’s really boring here because nothing is happening so far and it’s probably deserted. Keep me me while I wait?” Shinichi asks sheepishly, belatedly realizing how dumb of an excuse he just gave. Is it even believable in the slightest? “I’m just walking around the place now,” He adds as he quickened his pace.

Ran yawns but he can see her nodding her head in the dark. “Don’t you have to be aware of your surroundings, though? What if the bad guys creep up on you?”

“You’re right,” he says half-heartedly, not really paying attention to what she’s saying anymore. He’s trying to climb up the stairs as fast as his feet can take him. He is so close.

Ran mumbles something sleepily in return. How she wishes for body heat, but she only had her blanket to make up for the warmth. She closes her eyes, unaware that the line has gone silent. After a few more beats of silence, she hears the front door being unlocked. She sits up, suddenly alert and forgetting about her call with Shinichi. It is definitely not her father, since she can hear his snores very audibly from his room. Is it Conan, coming back from his camping trip a few days early? But—it’s literally the middle of the night, so if it actually is Conan, he has some explaining to do. She tip-toes to the door just to get ready in case it is an actual robber.

As the door unlocks and the intruder enters, Ran’s eyes widen and her hand flails around for the switch to turn one of the lights one as she recognizes the familiar silhouette. It can't be.

“Surprise.” Shinichi is standing there, smiling widely at the sight of his dumbfounded girlfriend.

Ran stares at the boy in front of her for a good while before reaching out for him in a frenzy. “You’re kidding,” she chokes out, wrapping her arms tightly around him, afraid he will be gone again as soon as she let go.

“I’ve missed you too,” Shinichi sighs, hugging Ran back just as tight. They stand like that, hugging at the door silently, choosing to ignore the fact that her father can very well walk out of his room at any given moment. Shinichi pulls away, frowning, when he realizes that she is crying.

“Hey, don’t cry.” He whispers softly, bending his knees to look at Ran who has her head down. She shakes her head, opting to bury her face in his chest instead. Shinichi run his hands up and down her back, gently kissing the top of her head. “Don’t cry, I’m here.”

Ran looks up, a few droplets of tears streaming down her face. “That’s exactly why I’m crying! You’re back now, for.. God knows how long, and then you’re gonna have to leave me again. Probably in a few hours, or in the morning if we’re lucky,” she cries, sniffling. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Shinichi remains quiet as Ran cries her heart out in silence. Then, he very gently lifts her up, carrying her to the bedroom and setting her down on the bed. “Actually, I have a few days to spend with you.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re right. And I’m not gonna lie to you, I will have to leave again, but not until Monday. So.. I’m yours for the whole weekend.” Shinichi says, hoping for her acceptance, despite how little he is offering her right now.

“The whole weekend?” Her smile is back on her face at this point. Sounds like she will just have to make the most out of this weekend, then. It’s a good thing she doesn’t have anything yet planned. She wipes the tears off of her face. She can’t waste their time together by crying like this. “Oh Shinichi, there are so many places that I wanted to go with you to!”

“We can go anywhere you want,” says Shinichi. That already sounds perfect to him. Truth be told, any moments spent with Ran were perfect. The Where and What weren’t all that important. Like right now. Even in the dim light, he can see how bright she’s smiling. God, all he wanted to do is stare at her and admire her beauty, amongst everything else.

He hates lying to Ran, although it is done to protect her, to shield her. He will have to lie to her some more, but this time, he does not want to make any more promises he can't keep. “It will all be over soon, I promise. I’ll come home for good.” You’re my home, he wants to say.

She has missed him so much—she missed his voice, his scent, his warmth, his presence. She crawls towards him, unable to hide the overwhelming sense of hope that arises after his declaration. “Really?”

“Really.” Ran can feel the tears welling up again. This time, out of happiness. “It hurts so much to not be able to be by your side.”

“I’m here,” murmurs Shinichi quietly as he reaches out to wipe some of her fallen tears away with the pad of his thumb. “... and I’m always watching.” he adds quietly, wrapping an arm around her as he hugs her to sleep.

Ran nods in silence. She has so many things to tell him, but she is content with just enjoying his warmth and presence beside her for now. Truly, nothing can compare to the homey feeling and the familiarity of being next to Shinichi. She lets him hold her to sleep, his voice a lullaby that carries her out of consciousness.

“I’m always with you,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss her forehead, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

#shinran #dcmk #kudo shinichi #mouri ran #bc they'd be such a lovey dovey couple and y'all know it #melts with ran at soft boi shinichi #where else on earth do u find a man like him??#Ran is one lucky girl #no Shinichi is LUCKIER to have Ran #fic

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gottlem · 5 years ago

Text

summer fl(in)g. gigi/crystal

a/n i made crystal sad about 3/4 through and im SORRY i was projecting. anyways theres a tiny tiny bit of angst but MOST of this is just dumb gays in l*ve. im still getting used to writing fics so be nice pls !!!! also if u want a pt2 be sure to let me know!

summary: lockdown in summer can be lonely, but Crystal and Gigi make sure they never feel alone. thank god they have good service. (3.8k words)

When lockdown was announced, Crystal wasn’t surprised. The pandemic was taking the world by storm and yeah, it fucking terrified her. But she had to look on the bright side. So that's what she did. Just as the announcement came to an end, Crystal’s phone pinged from her pocket and she smiled to see her friends' names light up on the screen.

JANtastic: well its official

miss cox: Yeah I’m gonna miss u guys!!!

goodegirl: you say that as if u won’t be spending lockdown with jan. i’ll be ALONE thanks for asking

CRYstal: hey i’ll be alone too !!! I’ll text u everyday to keep u company :-))

goodegirl: i’m gonna hold u up to that

And Gigi did hold her up to that. The country was two days into lockdown when Crystal received her first message.

goodegirl: ugh we are how many days into lockdown? And ive already had A MILLION people hit me up with “hows quarantine treating u ;)” i am SICK.

When Crystal read the text, an odd feeling bubbled in her stomach. She told herself it was because she wasn’t used to out-of-the-blue messages from Gigi yet, they just didn’t talk that much, but looking back she admits there was probably (definitely) more to it than that. Of course the girls had already been friends, but Crystal had never found it in herself to speak to Gigi that much because, well, she was intimidatingly gorgeous. They got on well in groups, where Crystal could try to focus her attention on someone who didn’t make her face red every time she looked at her, but she knew if she invited Gigi out by themselves, she would make a fool of herself. It was stupid really, it wasn’t even like she had feelings for her - she was just too pretty, and Crystal didn’t know how to handle herself around someone who looked like they belonged in a vogue magazine. A ping shook her from her thoughts.

goodegirl: like i get that ppl are thirsty rn. i get it. i am too. but is that really the BEST they can come up with?

Crystal needed to reply. But what could she even say to that?

CRYstal: at least u have people trying to hit you up ://

goodegirl: omg what??? ur telling me not ONE person has tried to slide into those dms? they need to get on that! ur a catch

Crystal felt her face flush at the comment. Did Gigi really think she was a catch? Or maybe she’s just being nice? That was probably it. Just friendly banter.

CRYstal: nope haha! ANYWAYS. hows quarantine treating u ;-)

goodegirl: very funny. bitch.

From then on, the texts flowed easily between the two and Crystal started to ask herself why she hadn’t done this earlier. So what if Gigi was offensively attractive? They clicked so easily - Gigi was smart, quick witted, and didn’t take anything too seriously. So really, she was Crystal's perfect match. As a friend. Platonically. That night, they texted until Crystal was struggling to even keep her eyes open. It was a conversation that felt natural to them, bringing up anything that came into their heads and letting eachother start stupid tangents without fear of judgement. Gigi found Crystal's ability to ramble on about any random subject impossibly endearing, but she wouldn’t admit that out loud. Not yet, anyways.

After three days of almost constant texting, Crystal facetimed Gigi for the first time. She picked up within seconds with wide eyes and a grin on her face.

“Hey you” If Crystal couldn’t see her smile (which she absolutely could) then she could definitely hear it. Gigi’s voice was soft and she hadn’t realised how much she missed it until she was reminded of it. The best thing was that Gigi sounded genuinely happy to speak to Crystal, it made her ecstatic. Crystal had called in the late afternoon, just before the sun had started to set, so she could see golden light shining gently onto Gigi’s features. It left her speechless for a second. How many times was Gigi going to leave her completely unable to reply by merely talking to her? This girl was going to be the death of her. When Crystal finally came to, she managed out a soft, but casual, reply, hoping that she had covered up the embarrassing amount of time it took for her to speak. If Gigi noticed, she didn’t mention it.

It took them a while to get into the rhythm of actually talking to each other - texts made it easy to think over before you send, and Gigi had never really been one to think before she spoke aloud anyway. She didn’t want to scare Crystal off with how blunt she could be, but after some awkward laughs and stuttered jokes, the pair slowly fell into a rhythm they felt surprisingly comfortable in; they bounced off each other's jokes and soon enough their cheeks hurt from smiling. A few hours into the call, Crystal was sitting comfortably on her bed, her phone propped up with pillows so she and Gigi could still see each other. She caught herself staring again. It started off as small glances that lingered a bit longer than they should, but it was easy to do that and quickly cover it up, especially on facetime. Soon enough, Crystal would completely daze off for minutes, just staring at the girl on her screen. She figured out she really liked looking at Gigi, and Gigi didn’t seem to mind.

Gigi thinks Crystal’s voice is her favourite sound. After about 5 minutes of hearing run on sentences about god knows what, she had already decided she could listen to her talk forever. About anything. She really didn’t care as long as it was Crystal and she was talking to her. As the call progressed into the late hours of the night, the pair had started to get giggly - the tiredness they were feeling was starting to take effect, but it made them anything but sleepy. At 11:56pm, Gigi decided Crystal’s laugh was her second favourite sound. She would sometimes giggle, sometimes she’d shake with silent laughter, but her favourite was when she gave into a full-belly laugh. The kind of laugh that substitutes for a full core workout. That was Gigi’s favourite.

Crystal was obsessed with Gigi’s smile. It softened Gigi, showed a side of her that Crystal hadn’t been acquainted to previously, but she was so glad she knew now. Gigi could be harsh sometimes, she had learned this years ago and had just accepted it as who Gigi was, but after seeing that damn smile, it was hard to think that Gigi was even capable of hurting a fly. Crystal was quick to realise the mean girl facade (which had only made her scarier to talk to, and somehow more attractive) was just that - a facade. Walls she had built up. Crystal was eager to break them down, and she felt like she was making a good start everytime Gigi smiled like that.

They hung up when Gigi started yawning more than she was talking, she insisted it was just because she was tired, and Crystal wholeheartedly believed her. When Gigi’s face disappeared from her screen, Crystal was still smiling. Her cheeks hurt and she felt whole. She took a deep breath and took in the silence for a moment - she was alone again. She didn’t feel lonely. Despite her ever-growing fatigue, Crystal just couldn’t fall asleep, her head was buzzing with Gigi’s voice, and her laugh, and her smile, and her eyes, and- Crystal was in deep shit. She was all too familiar with the feeling of butterflies manifesting in her stomach, the thoughts of a particular person on her mind constantly. To be completely honest, she hated it. Falling for anyone had never ended well for her, and falling for someone she was already friends with? Even worse. There was no way this would end without somebody getting hurt, and that somebody would probably be Crystal. And yet, being stuck in isolation, she thought the idea of possibly having a girlfriend didn’t sound too bad, but that might have been the lack of human contact talking.

Gigi let her thoughts wonder as she drifted off into sleep. She wasn’t one to get crushes, but when she fell, she fell hard. And willingly. There was just something about the drama of having such strong feelings for someone, and playing guessing games on how they felt. And by the way Crystal had been staring at her all night, Gigi felt like she was on the right tracks. She liked the way her cheeks would flush if she thought too hard about the girl, or how butterflies would dance around in her stomach, making her feel lighter than a feather. Maybe she was just a hopeless romantic, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She allowed herself to dream up scenarios of herself and Crystal being together once this whole situation was over. She quite liked how it looked in her head.

As the days passed, Gigi and Crystal found themselves spending more of their waking hours talking to each other over facetime than they did doing anything else. They were both falling quickly, only mildly aware of each other's adoration. It didn’t take very long for the casual flirting to start. Everytime Gigi gave an off-handed compliment about how Crystal sounded “really pretty today” or how her laugh is “the prettiest thing”, the other girl would turn bright red and freeze up. Gigi would tease her about it, which only made her more and more flustered. She thought she’d eventually get used to it, but she never did. Crystal tried to flirt back,really tried, she wanted more than anything to make Gigi stumble over her words like she does to her so often, but she would always be completely unfazed by every compliment Crystal could think of. Crystal found her ability to keep her composure so easily both irritating and compelling.

It took Crystal a few days to find something that would finally, finally break Gigi down. Pet names. When she had casually let ‘babe’ slip in the middle of a sentence, she could practically see the breath that got stuck in Gigi’s throat before she started to choke on nothing but air. When Crystal asked if she was ok, she answered with a question.

“Did you just call me babe?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Crystal genuinely wanted to make sure that it was ok, but the comment came off as less of a question, and more as straight up flirting.

“No. Nope. Not a problem at all. What were we talking about?”

Crystal doesn’t press further, taking pride in being able to make the girl so speechless, and continues what she was saying as if nothing had stopped her in the first place. She watched as Gigi’s blush died down very, very slowly, only to watch it burn up again every time Crystal repeated the pet name. She absolutely adored it.

“You’re cute when you blush, babe” Gigi made a noise at this. Crystal made a note of that before deciding that this would never get old.

Soon enough, the girls were in a comfortable routine - talking every day until one of them would give in to sleep. It was usually Crystal. Gigi would stay on the call for a bit, just to listen to the girl’s breathing, it provided an unexpected comfort to her. Plus Crystal was adorable when she slept. The routine was broken one day about a month into the lockdown, though nobody was really paying attention to what day it was anyway. Gigi had been awake for no more than an hour when she started to miss Crystal, so she gave her a call. Crystal didn’t pick up. Gigi called again, just in case Crystal had her phone on silent, but she was met with no answer. Instead, she was sent a text, a text which really didn’t explain anything. At all.

CRYstal: hey !!! sorry can’t pick up rn but i promise u i will call in like an hour or two ???? speak to u soon love !!!! <3

It was unusual for Crystal to miss out on a call - she was usually the one to be ringing Gigi. What could she even be doing? Gigi needed a distraction, something to pass the time instead of sitting and waiting. That was when she realised she hadn’t worn any makeup in weeks, so she sat herself down and started on a full face - the process of doing her makeup always calmed her down, so it was a welcome distraction. Just as she finished, her phone began ringing. She didn’t have to check to see who it was.

“Hi! Sorry I didn’t answer before I was kinda busy” Gigi was speechless. A pixelated Crystal was beaming at her from her phone screen. And she had green hair now. This is why she didn’t pick up? The bitch was dyeing her hair? It did look really pretty though. Like, really, really pretty.

“Quarantines really getting to you that much huh?” Gigi decided against gushing about Crystal’s new hair - that would be giving her what she wanted.

“Do you like it?” She loved it. Adored it.

“It’s nice”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Needy are we?” That shut her up. She changed the topic in an instant.

“So... you look really pretty today!”

That night, the girls fell back into their easy routine. It had been hours since she first saw it, but Gigi couldn’t keep her eyes off of Crystal and her new look. It really suited her. It just felt so utterly Crystal. The green haired girl was in the middle of a long rant about how One DIrection “are definitely planning a reunion really really soon” when Gigi had to stop her.

“I fucking love your hair, Crys” She blushed at the out-of-the-blue compliment.

“Really? I thought it was just nice?” Gigi shook her head.

“I was teasing, of course I love it. It suits you so much, you look beautiful” She was smiling ear to ear. Crystal loved it when Gigi gushed over her like this. It made her feel like there could be something there, like this was more than friends bored in quarantine.

“Thanks,” Crystal paused for just a moment before her face lit up “Oh my God, you should do something to your hair too!” Gigi hated that idea, and shook her head affectionately at the girl's adorable excitement. She felt slightly bad when she told her that she would be caught dead before doing anything to her hair - she loved the deep brown colour it had always been, and was happy with how the length framed her face. Crystal however, was incessant. Gigi was surprised when she found herself telling Crystal that she’d “think about” changing her hair up.

Saying this was a huge mistake. Crystal reminded her every other hour that she had to dye it or cut it or just do something, and it drove Gigi insane. It took her all but two days to finally cave in - it irked her that Crystal had this much power over her. She wanted to do something shocking, something that would shut Crystal up about her damn hair for good. So she shaved it.

She did it when Crystal fell asleep after a particularly heated debate about her hair (the second of the night) and Gigi hung up to get to work on it. To call it an impulse decision wasn’t perhaps the most accurate, seeing as though she had been bugged about it for a solid 48 hours, but waking up that morning, Gigi hadn’t expected that all her hair would be gone by the time she went to sleep. Once she had finally bitten the bullet, it took her an hour to admit that she actually kind of liked the look - plus it was fun to touch.

When Crystal called her that morning, Gigi took a moment to herself before answering. She hadn’t told her about the change in her appearance and hoped she would like it, or at least be pleased that Gigi finally listened to her. She took a breath and picked up, feigning confidence with a casual “morning!”. She watched Crystal’s eyes go wide and her hands cover her mouth. Gigi acted oblivious.

“What's up? Is there someone behind me or something?” She looked at her screen and patiently waited until Crystal composed herself - she was used to her staring anyway. When Crystal finally spoke, she was practically squealing out a string of compliments. Apparently, she loved it.

“Are you keeping it like that? Please say you’re keeping it like that, it's so hot” Gigi wasn’t sure if she would grow it out, but after Crystal had said that, it was an easy decision.

“I guess I’ll keep it then. Just for you”

Crystal loved being so open with Gigi, and she really appreciated how close they had gotten during lockdown - but she really just needed today off. She had woken up one morning with a feeling of dread that she couldn’t quite place, and a persistent headache. This was going to be a bad day, but she was used to bad days. She ignored Gigi’s calls and sent no follow up text. She could speak to Gigi later. Right now, she was just going to go back to sleep.

So that's what she did. She woke up in the late afternoon and finally dragged herself out of bed to make some food in the evening. When she got back to the safety of her bed, she was still tired. And she kind of felt like crying. So she cried. Sometimes, especially on bad days, Crystal’s mind could get the best of her, she had learned to just let herself get all her feelings out when she got like this - bottling them up had only ever made them worse. This was when Gigi called for the millionth time that day, her texts had become concerned, then angry, then concerned again. Crystal felt like she owed an explanation, so with bloodshot eyes and a puffy red face, Crystal finally picked up.

“Ugh finally! You haven’t spoken to me all day I- what’s wrong?” Crystal felt a ping of guilt at Gigi’s initial response to her answering. Had she really kept her waiting all day? It felt silly, like an unreasonable excuse, but deep down Crystal knew what was good for her. She also didn’t know how to answer Gigi’s question. She was starting to regret picking up, having Gigi see her like this - god, she must have looked a mess.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have picked up. I'm probably bringing the mood down” She saw Gigi’s features become impossibly softer at that.

“Hey, no, it's ok. We don’t have to talk about it, but we can if you want to. But you’re not hanging up. And neither am I. If it means I sit in complete silence with you for the next few hours then so be it”

This was when Crystal knew Gigi was a keeper. Whether whatever they had going on would continue, or whether they would return to strictly just friends, Gigi was someone she needed to keep in her life. They eventually started talking, first it was about how Gigi’s day went - Crystal didn’t feel like speaking much, but once she warmed up to seeing that all-familiar smile, she felt comfortable enough to start to open up. They talked for hours. Crystal cried. Gigi cried (though not as much).

“I just wish I could be there to help, or at least give you a hug or something, god this sucks” Crystal saw this as an opportunity to lighten the mood.

“As if you would settle for just a hug” Crystal winked pitifully and Gigi laughed, but didn’t disagree.

Of course one chat didn’t fix Crystal’s problems, but at least now she had someone in her corner - and that was half the battle.

It didn’t take the pair very long to fall back into their rhythm, feeling closer and more comfortable with each other, their feelings getting stronger as each day passed on. Crystal found herself falling back into the habit of sitting silent, and admiring the girl on her screen.

“You’re staring.” Gigi told her. Crystal hummened in agreement.

“You’re pretty”

It was normal for the pair to bounce words like pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous between them. It was as if they both knew exactly how the other felt - like it was completely unspoken and yet so obvious. And maybe it was.

Two months into lockdown, Gigi was really starting to miss physical contact - she was starting to feel a thrill when she made eye contact with strangers on her way to her weekly shop, she was getting desperate. It was brought up with Crystal.

“I just miss human contact. I want to hold a hand. I want someone to hug me. I want a kiss! Oh my god I miss kissing.” Crystal felt herself blushing at the mention of kissing (kissing Gigi, nonetheless). She would give anything to see Gigi right now, to be close to her.

“When this is over, I’ll kiss you, don’t even worry about it” Crystal was only half joking. GIgi went red, but tried to act as if the thought of Crystal kissing her didn’t phase her at all.

“Oh will you now?”

“I’m not kidding”

“Well. I’d very much like that Miss Methyd” Gigi gave in, she refused to play hard to get with someone who she had fallen so hard for. She just hoped Crystal would stick to her word.

Summer was halfway through when lockdown was lifted. The instant the announcement was made, Crystal phone pinged - it wasJan, and she suddenly felt a wave of deja vu from when the lockdown started.

JANtastic: GUYSSSSSS i’ve missed you so much PLEASE say y’all are free to meet? Like right now?!?!

JANtatsic: Jackie’s already with me so, she’s down too :))

CRYstal: i’ve missed you too !!! i’m free to meet!

goodegirl: me too !!

The group reunited within an hour, Crystal shed some happy tears, and Gigi laughed as she wiped them for her. It was nice to be with her, to be able to stand next to each other. But it also felt odd - like something had shifted now that they were right in front of each other. So for the rest of summer, the girls shared lingering glances and awkward smiles, too scared to make an official move.

#this took so long to write #hope u liked it #there will be a part 2 maybe !!!#pls dont let this flop #just two gays in l*ve #so fluffy #also i cant flirt so i cant write flirting #sorry bout it #can be read as w/w or m/m depending on how much u squint #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jackie cox #jan sport #just jan #gigi x crystal #jan x jackie #lesbian au

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