#sometimes i just stare out the window. as he drives us home from canada.'' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

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Of Quartz I Will

Amethyst You So Much✨ Part 2: Of Quartz I Will

Summary: after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.

Warnings: fluff, gun violence, shooting tw, Reid's season 5 knee injury, hurt/comfort, emotional smut, body massage, hand jobs, riding, penetrative sex.

word count: 6K

Spencer notices her as she walks in, through the briefing room window, she’s wearing his purple shirt. He wanted to wear that for work today but couldn’t find it anywhere, now he knows why.

“Excuse me,” he says to his group of teammates as they contribute reading case files.

“Hey,” Spencer grabs her attention from the railing beside the briefing room. “I’ve been looking for that shirt everywhere.”

“It’s mine now,” she smiles, setting her things down at her desk for the night. “I’ll buy you a new purple dress shirt.”

“Buy yourself one, I like that one,” he whines.

“Finders keepers, doctor Reid. Either stop leaving your shit on my bedroom floor or move in already.”

Everyone hears it. All eyes are on them as they bicker in the middle of the bullpen, including the team of profilers just beyond the window.

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She climbs the stairs quickly, giving him a good morning hug even though it was 9pm. “I love you, that’s why I’m wearing your shirt.”

He smiles against her shoulder as he holds her, “I love you, more so in my shirt.”

When he sits back down at his chair at the round table, everyone is waiting with a raised brow. They want details, they want his opinion, they want to hear him stutter and see him blush like he used to. But he doesn’t.

“Yes, I will be moving in with her. We have people to save,” Spencer reminded them. Avoiding eye contact and flipping through the files.

Derek tugs on his amethyst bracelet, he hasn’t taken it off since he got it, almost 2 years ago. “Are you ever going to get her any other jewellery?”

“When she goes home I’ll show you,” he whispers, still avoiding eye contact as they all gasp. “Keep it cool or I will kill you.”

He keeps an eye on her at her desk, smiling when she looks up to see him. She blows him a kiss and waves softly a few times, but other than that, they don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

The next time She sees him, he’s in her bed sound asleep as she’s coming home from work. She sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his hair away from his face to wake him up gently, he blinks into the morning sunlight to see her.

“Good morning,” he smiles.

She’s in his pink shirt today. She liked to keep something of his close on bad cases that take him out of town. In this case, out of the country. He was in Canada for a few days, the case was horrific and she had to deal with all the office work in Penelope’s absence.

“Amethyst,” she whispers, it was part of their secret code.

Spencer, being a cunning linguist, he loved anagrams.

They had Amethyst for I miss you, Quartz for of course, and Olive for I love you. It was easier to keep the PDA to a minimum at work, not wanting to sit in a seminar like Derek and Penny about sexual misconduct and hostile work environments.

“Olive,” Spencer replies, pulling her down into the bed so she can cuddle in.

“We can’t stay, there’s another case. JJ told me to bring you in on my way home,” she explains softly. “They need you to go to ER Doctor Barton’s house, in McLean, he got a note saying someone was going to kill his son. So far they’ve also connected him to a few surrogate kills of Hispanic men, they need the speed reader to go through all his recent surgeries.”

He sighs, holding her tightly and snuggling in against her back, “no.”

She laughs, “Spencer, you can read really fast and the faster you read the faster you can come home to me.”

“Fine,” she has perfect logic, he always tells her that. “Are you driving me to the guy's house?”

“Yep, so we can stop for coffee and talk in the car, I really did miss you a lot,” she struggles out of his grasp to turn and face him, opting to hold his face in her hands as she looks at him. He’s exhausted, just like her.

“I missed you too, I’m sorry I was gone so long,” his voice is barely a whisper, “We should take a day off together soon.”

“Yeah,” she smiles wider, completely in love with him. “I’d really like that, maybe we can look at apartments?”

“Apartments?” He repeats the word with a grin, raising his eyebrow softly. “I thought you liked it here?”

“It’s too small, I want to get a cat, if you’re bringing your closet here we’re going to need a bigger one,” she ranted. “And actually, I was thinking if you’re on the same page as me and this is a long-term thing for you too, what if we just got a bigger place and got a mortgage and start a little life outside the FBI, together?”

He’s so in love with her, “get my bag?” Is all he can say.

“What?” She’s so confused, shaking her head softly as she comprehends it.

“On the floor there, grab my bag, please there’s something for you in there,” he points behind her, trapped under her and the blanker so it’s not like he could get it himself.

She gets up, placing the bag on the bed for him as she watches him dig through it for a little box. “Arminius helped me pick this out.”

He had become best friends with the owner of the rock shop, she wasn’t surprised to hear that he had gotten something else from there for him. It made her giggle with excitement, bouncing softly as Spencer sat up and moved his bag out of the way.

But then he got out of bed, he’s in a pair of purple boxers and his hair is a mess and he’s so nervous and she has no idea why until he gets down on one knee.

“I was waiting to do this.”

“Holy shit.”

He nods with a shaky laugh, “yeah, I’m in it long term if you are?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to drive you to work now?” She laughs, unable to stop smiling as the two of them stare hopelessly at each other. She hasn’t even looked at the ring yet, too occupied with the wonderfully happy look on his face.

“Quartz,” is all she can say, flabbergasted as she keeps laughing with a shocked smile.

He takes it from the box and she watches as he slides the most beautiful purple Amethyst ring over her ring finger and then her hands are back on his cheeks. Pulling him into a kiss, she can’t seem to hold him close enough as she breathes in. Holding her breath as she keeps him there.

He pulls away with a laugh, “when are we supposed to be there?”

“Now.”

“Damn,” they’re all giggles.

And it doesn’t stop, she takes off Spencer’s shirt and he puts it on instead, matching it with a vest and a tie while she makes him a coffee and can’t stop smiling as she glances at the ring.

It really only made sense for their engagement to happen in the same place she fell in love with him.

Sure, she liked him a lot when he was getting her rocks and she really wanted to get to know him more after his last note, but it was the bracelet that made her fall in love. He went out of his way to make her smile on what felt like the worst day of her life, and she knew she wanted forever with him from then on out. Now she was going to get it, she was going to be Agent Y/N Reid, and her ring was absolutely perfect.

He catches her taking photos of it in the sunshine when he comes out of the bedroom. She still can’t stop smiling, it’s just so perfect and she’s just so in love with him.

They get muffins from the bakery under her apartment before getting in her car, “where is it?” Spencer asks, playing the role of GPS whenever they drove together.

“120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia,” she members it clearly.

“Take a right,” Spencer smiles, and she’s off.

She drives with one hand, looking at her ring almost more than the road as Spencer held her other one. She pulled up to the Doctor’s house and he didn’t want to leave. Sighing, he looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

“I will see you when you get home, I’m going to call out after this case is done and you get mandatory 24 hours off for back-to-back cases,” she said, knowing protocol almost better than him. “Go to work.”

“Fine,” he frowns again, getting out of the car and walking around to her door. She rolls the window down and tilts her chin up, leaning out for the kiss he’s waiting to give her.

“Let me know when you’re done, I can come and pick you back up,” she whispers against his lips between kisses.

One last smooch and he pulls away, backing up so he isn’t tempted to stay any longer, “olive.”

“Olive,” she replies with a smile, waving slightly before he disappears behind the door.

She releases a long sigh, melting into the chair as she lets the butterflies swarm around a bit in her stomach, it felt wonderful.

She went home, napped from 10 till 2 and then sat in bed to stare at her beautiful ring for a little while. She couldn’t believe he proposed just like that. All she asked was if he wanted to get a mortgage on a house and she guesses he heard "spend the rest of your life with me."

Sometimes, when Spencer was on a case in Virginia and too busy to keep her updated, she would turn on the police radio and listen to what was going on around in the area. It was good to keep her mind preoccupied and to remind herself that he was safe.

At least that’s what it used to do.

“Shots fired at 120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia, 10-999, 11-41, all units in the area are requested.”

“10-999, officer down, 11-41, send ambulances,” she whispers to herself, remembering all the dispatch lingo from the office.

She doesn’t have time to panic, she unlocks her safe and grabs her gun, loading it and then she’s out the door, in her car and pulling up behind the sheriff's car as she’s running out.

She tosses her badge up to show the cops as she tries to run onto the scene, “I’m an FBI agent on his team, let me through!”

She slides her knees along the grass, surely ruining her jeans as she dives for him. She places a hand on his bloody knee and looks everywhere else, “are you okay? Are you good? Holy shit, Spence?”

Her breathing is so heavy, she clutches her chest with her left hand and tries to calm down as he looks up at her and they breathe in and out a few times without breaking eye contact. He’s completely fine, there’s just a bullet in his knee, he assures her.

“I’m fine,” he laughs lightly, wincing at the pain as he leans forward to kiss her gently.

She’s there only 2 minutes before Derek, JJ and Rossi are pulling up on the scene. Everyone huddled around them on the grass as the EMTs bandaged his knee up before taking him to the ambulance.

“You need to call Emily,” Spencer speaks over everyone, “something happened to Hotch, I’m fine here with Y/N, just go see him.”

He was always going to be fine with her, that was for sure. She never left his side, except when they took him in for surgery and forced her back into the waiting room. But as soon as he was okay again, his hand was in hers.

—

He was given a month off after his knee surgery, but he still ended up in the office most nights. Becoming more of a night owl than usual as he accompanied his fiancé to her desk and sat beside her as she did her work. It was really nice to spend time with her and not have to do anything.

Of course, he filled his time by going over other case files, things they weren’t able to get to as a team and things that didn’t fit the criteria of the BAU. He made phone calls and sent emails, helping small-town cops make simple connections and doing more good that way.

He sat at her desk, his leg resting over her lap as she made a few phone calls. Handing the background of the cases, filing off invoices and approvals. Dispatching units and requesting files and overrides from other departments. She was amazing.

She hangs up the phone, finally, after 45 minutes of rolling her eyes and sighing as she was transferred from office to office all around America. She places her hand on his leg and absentmindedly runs her hand along his shin, staring off at the desk, silently.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “do you think you’re healed enough to start looking at places?”

He nods back, “actually, I already found one. Hold on,” he slides his leg off her lap and stands with his crutches, hobbling over to his desk where he looks through his files for a new folder.

When he comes back to her, he places the folder in her hands, “forever homes,” is listed on the tag and he sees her heart melt in her eyes. She opens the folder as he sits down, there are about 15 pages of house and apartment listings printed off.

“When did you do all this?” She whispered, shocked and not wanting to cry at work.

“Before I got shot, I was on the phone with Penelope and I asked her to help me find some, she printed off like 50 and I selected the good ones, but there’s more if you don’t like an-“

“Babe,” she cut the rant short, “I’m sure I’ll love any of them, as long as they come with you.”

He pulls a specific sheet from the pile, “this one is my favourite.”

She can see why, it’s a large, green exterior, Victorian home. There’s a turret and a porch, large windows with a bench seat in the kitchen. A garage, 4 bedrooms, a finished basement, a study and a pretty nice backyard.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but Derek said he’s willing to help teach me how to fix some stuff,” Spencer pressed his lips together awkwardly. He really wanted this on.

“Let’s get a Realtor and set up a walk-through,” she agreed, “and we should bring Derek because he’ll know more than most inspectors anyway. I don’t want to get a place with a cracked foundation or a faulty water heater.”

He smiled again, “remember last week when I had that extra appointment?”

She tilted her head, “no, there is no way you’ve already been there to check it out without me.”

“And I put an offer in, but I was waiting for your approval,” he adds, nervous for her to hate it.

“With what money? I thought we were doing this together?” He’s not sure why she’s upset, normally she loves his surprises.

“When I sold my moms house, I invested the money and it’s been gaining interest for years now,” his voice is soft, “I got through college with scholarships and if I was ever down on money I just had to go to one casino and I always leave with two grand, minimum, I promise, I’m really in this for the long run. I know what I'm doing.”

She smiles, picking up the listing and calling the agency. “Hi this is Y/N Y/L/N calling, my fiancé, Doctor Spencer Reid, recently put an offer in on the listing for 247 Chestnut Drive, I’d love to come and see it soon and take some measurements and things. If you could call me back…”

Spencer is so in love with her it hurts. He wants to scream right then and there, like a kettle on a hot stove for too long, he’s bursting at the seams. She hangs up the phone with the best smile he’s ever seen, “I’m going home early, cause I’m sick, care to join me?”

She stands then, putting her hand out for him so he could stand with her help. “Quartz,” he replies, taking her hand and stands, she gathers their things and she clocks out. No one really cared about all her sick days, she did her job well and they wanted the good doctor to be taken care of.

When he finally gets to show her the inside of the house, she is so in love with it. The hardwood is all original, same with the railings, shelves, banisters and countertops. They're all rustic and beautiful, she can’t help but run her finger over everything as she looks around with an open mouth. X

The kitchen cabinets are green, there is a beautiful colourful wallpaper as a backsplash… and it’s completely empty. It was a remodel, some house flippers did it up and didn’t want to stay. It was made more modern, updated appliances and every safety protocol met. It was perfect.

She turned to him with a smile after only 5 minutes of looking, “this is it.”

“Good,” the women showing them around said, “because your offer was approved, with your say so I can get everything started with escrow.”

“Holy shit!” Y/N cheered, jumping a bit and showing off while Spencer just leaned on his crutch. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek a few times.

“You can start that paperwork,” Spencer smiled, holding her back with his face in the crook of her neck.

—

The hardest part of moving is transporting all of Spencer’s books from one home to another. It's at least 30 boxes of books and Derek will be faxing his chiropractor bill to Spencer within the week.

His office here was huge, floor-to-ceiling oak shelves and green walls, full of all his books and belongings now. It was his own space in the house he shared with his future wife.

It felt crazy to him.

She used to just be the cute girl in the office, he can remember the exact moment he laid eyes on her. She was walking around aimlessly with some files in her hands when he turned around at his desk. She looked lost, overwhelmed and like she was about to have a breakdown.

She looked at him with the same fear he felt on his first day, he took the file from her and knew exactly where it was meant to go. She followed behind him, quiet as a mouse as he placed it in a folder by the wall under a sign that said "Anderson."

He turned with a press-lipped smile and a nod and then they went their separate ways. Silent conversations became their thing, the only time he really heard her voice was when she called him in in the middle of the night or when he heard her on the phone.

Other than that; she smiled when they passed each other, she’d tap her watch when he needed to be doing something Hotch asked for and was preoccupied with something else, she even knew exactly what he was looking for by just observing his chaos. Always able to pull a sheet of paper from the bottom of the stack with ease, and always silently, until that one day she said sorry to him after slamming the phone.

Now he knows that she talks in her sleep, she likes to go over her plans out loud in the shower every morning, and she sings all day long. Be it little tunes, hums, random tongue clicks or whistling, she’s always making noise. His favourite, however, was when sometimes she’d remember something she was trying to remember during a conversation they had, 4 days prior, and she’d scream it out like he knows what she’s thinking every second of every day.

He was in love with her voice, he never wanted to stop hearing it.

He was in love with her face, he never wanted to stop seeing it.

He was in love with her body, he never wanted to stop touching it.

He was in love with her mind, he never wanted to stop exploring it.

All those thoughts rushing to his brain and rushing a new form of butterflies for him. Like anxiety, but happier. Like he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. It was anticipation rather than fear.

She really was it for him, and as he unboxed his life into the house they were about to share for the upcoming future, it all became very real. This was how the rest of his forever was going to look with her. All their memories from here on out were going to take place in this house, in these rooms.

When he picked this house, it was just a fun idea, and now he looks at the hardwood floors and thinks about how wet baby feet are going to sound during bath time. He wonders how many times the creaky steps are going to let him know she’s coming up to bed, he wonders what screaming matches and fights and love-making will happen beyond the bedroom door across from his study.

He wonders if she’s going to love him as long as he wants to love her.

He opens his study door then, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” She calls up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Can you come up here?”

She marches up the stairs, still not used to the creaky staircase or the length of stairs she had to climb, soon enough, she’s on the second floor and walking into his study, “what’s up?”

He doesn’t know how to ask, he doesn’t even really know what he wants actually. He just missed her, and she was only just downstairs.

“Can I have a hug?”

It comes out more pathetic than he predicted, cringing at the embarrassment as he shrunk into the couch.

“Quartz,” her voice is soft as she approaches him.

Sitting on the brown leather couch that was once in his apartment, she wraps her arms around him and he holds her back softly.

Resting his head on her shoulder, he just wants to hold her for a while. Eventually, they end up laying down with her on his chest, still holding each other as silent as they were in the beginning.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers against her hair.

She snuggles in more, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder softly, “I love you, too, are you okay?”

He nods softly, “I was just thinking about everything and I wanted to hold you.”

She swoons, “do you remember the first night we cuddled like this?”

He nods again, brushing his chin against her head each time, “it all feels like history repeating like it’s supposed to be this way for us.”

“I like to think so,” she agreed. “I actually think you’re my twin flame.”

He hums, thinking about it, “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“So soulmates are kind of like mirror souls, they are exactly everything that the other needs and they fill the missing parts for each other." She explains softly and he can already tell where her rant is going.

"I don’t think that’s us because we are too similar; sometimes we butt heads and don’t see eye-to-eye, and you drive me crazy a lot of the time because we have the same anxiety and daddy issues, but it’s also because you do things I think about doing and then I can’t do them because they're done already and they’re my calm down things so then I have nothing to calm down with, like yesterday-“

“Babe,” he whispers, “I know, we finish each other’s sandwiches, that’s what your niece said when she saw us together.”

It makes her smile and he can feel her cheekbone against his chest, “twin flames are what happens when one soul is ripped in half and sent to two bodies. They’re capable of surviving separately, as long as they have the right kindling, but they burn brighter together.”

“People sometimes think fire is living because it consumes and uses energy, requires oxygen, and moves through the environment,” Spencer says softly, “have you ever seen something catch fire on both ends?”

“Yeah, a few times, why?”

“It’s never about burning the item entirely, both fires are only concerned with connecting to each other for mass destruction. They always burn in the strangest patterns, but they always connect first before devouring the victim.”

She sits up to look at him, “are you saying I devoured you?”

“That would be de-flowered,” he teases, “but no, I’m saying it makes sense. We really have been burning through everything to find each other.”

“I cannot believe you just said I de-flowered you before the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said,” she laughs, “and it was a mutual de-flowering, might I remind you.”

“I will never forget,” he coos, leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers.

She pushes him back against the couch, it’s been forever since they’ve really done anything. With moving, Spencer’s recovery, her working nights and sleeping all day. It hasn’t been rewarding in a long time, it’s just been enjoyable.

“No,” he whispers as she starts to trail kisses down his neck. “I’m not having sex on the couch the first time we do it in the house.”

She laughs against his neck, pushing herself off the couch and extending a hand to him, “did the doctor even say you can yet?”

“I can’t do all the work, but I can give a second opinion?” He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as she hauled him to his feet.

“Let me heal you,” she whispers, and he knows exactly what she means.

She lays him down on their bed, on top of the covers with no clothes on as she gathers her things. She closes the blinds, turns on her amber lamp, and lights her candles. But his favourite thing that she adds is the sound therapy… helping the water in his body vibrate at the right frequency to calm him completely. She’s going all out for this one.

Much like the first time.

She’s naked too, both of them completely unfazed by each other’s naked form by now. She sits between his legs with all her chakra stones in her hands and she sets them down on his stomach before arranging them in order where they’re supposed to help on his body.

The Amethyst is just above his head for his crown chakra, touching his scalp gently. He closes his eyes as she places a Lapis Lazuli on his third eye, in the centre of his forehead. An Aquamarine on his throat. Rose Quartz on his heart, Tiger’s Eye on his solar plexus, Pyrite on his belly button and finally, Fire Agate at his core.

He always felt so totally relaxed like this, even the first time she ever laid him down like this. He was so calm, he knew he was in good hands and seeing her bless the room made him feel even better.

“Only good may enter here,” the words she repeats every full moon when she opens the windows and blessed the whole house. Keeping them safe, happy, healthy and loved.

She kissed the scar on his knee, causing him to open his one eye to see her. She was laying between his legs now, head resting on his hip as she lightly ran her fingers over his knee, ticking the skin where he finally had feeling again. It took forever for the numbness to go away, even longer for the pain. But she was so patient with him the whole time, taking the best care of him.

She doesn’t mind that he’s hard, she’s very close to his dick as it rests on his stomach beside the crystal.

She kisses his hip, inching each kiss over until she’s pressing one right to the shaft of his dick and he takes a deep breath. Knowing she’ll stop if he forgets how to do the breathing exercises she showed him. He wasn’t allowed to tense his body, this was about pleasure and there was no rush.

For either of them.

He’s done this for her a few times over the years too, just as slow and sensual as she was being. It was calming, rewarding, they bonded with each other and really felt like one being this way.

He heard a cap open, but he was so used to it by now that it filled him with contentment rather than excitement. He remembers the first time she said she wanted to do this, getting some skin-safe, homemade, vegan massage lube and almost turning inside out with how awkward she was asking to do this for their first time.

She sat on her knees between his legs with a small bounce as she got excited about her favourite part. She sat with the bottle resting between her thighs, warming up while she ran some of it over her hands. She massaged his thighs first, getting all the knots and making sure there was no “Charlie's on any horses”, the first time she said that he almost cried laughing and ruined the mood for a little.

She took the rocks off him then, sitting more on his hips as she drizzled the warm oil on his chest. He let his hands rest on her knees, wanting to feel her skin while she felt his. Her hands felt like magic, running over his chest, arms and shoulders like this was her job. She knew every crook, every cranny, every pressure point and soft tissue on him. His body was just as much her’s now.

It's when she presses her body flat against his that he knows the mood is changing. Her breasts are flat against his chest, her hands are behind his head as she looks down at him, her groin pressed right against him as he aches for contact, grinding up into her slowly as she stares into his eyes.

“Better?” She whispered with a small smile, already feeling how much calmer he was, she just wanted confirmation.

“Much,” he’s just as quiet in his reply. “If I don’t bend that knee, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind doing all the work, baby,” she kisses him quickly, “I know you like it more like this anyway.”

She slithers down his body then, his body slick with oil as she easily glides down and creating the most wonderful amount of friction with him. He groans, tossing his head back against the Amethyst on his scalp.

She sits on his good thigh, avoiding pressure with his bad knee like he was an old man now. She makes contact with the only part she didn’t message, adding more of the massage lube to her hand before lazily jerking him off. He keeps a hand on her thigh, groping and managing her right back as she kept a perfect rhythm.

She occasionally grinds against his thigh, mostly when he moans and groans. Extremely turned on by him having a good time, proud of herself for relaxing him, always complaining that he was too tense, she really knew how to release the pressure.

Just as she gets into it, the calming sounds of rain and high-pitched frequencies come to an end… Rhiannon starts playing and he literally watches her come alive; changing her rhythm to match the beat as she starts to grind against him more, she only added his song to the queue, somehow an hour had passed and her music was resuming.

And when Spencer said she was eclectic, he meant she could go from listening to a rare Canadian band called the Tragically Hip, to Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Evanescence and back to Fleetwood Mac. He had no idea where the mood was about to go.

He moved his hand up her thigh as he tried to power through the pleasure, her hand was so amazing he was bubbling away under his skin. He manages to get his middle finger between his leg and her, massaging her clit as she bucked her hips down on him.

Mutual pleasure in any sense was enough for them, seeing the other being perfectly content after everything they went through; it was euphoric. She leans up then and kisses him desperately, unable to stop stroking him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

She smiles against his mouth as the song changes again, it’s the song from the ending of Dirty Dancing, he knows how much she loves that movie. Her kisses get softer, she’s so gentle as she strokes him just a few more times before throwing a leg over his hips and lowering herself onto him in one go. Bottoming out faster than before, both of them making the same moan as they curled forward for each other, mouths clashing as they held onto each other.

Grinding together, Spencer kept a hand on her to help her ride as she was preoccupied with her hands in his hair and kissing his neck as they moved in tandem. It was so good, he was incredibly close but he wanted to hold off as long as possible to feel her finish first.

His ultimate pleasure was knowing she was pleasured, he massaged her clit once more between their bodies and she shuttered, “right there,” her words are small as she kisses under his ear, tugging his hair softly as he moans so she can lick at his neck as she moves her hips up and down, gloriously.

He can’t keep his eyes open, everything is too much and he’s so relaxed; it’s like his body is floating on a cloud as she rides him like they’re actually in heaven. He was really having the time of his life and it made him smile at the end of the whimper he released as she tightened around him suddenly and on purpose.

She moves faster, and so does his wrist as he helps her over the edge first. She’s panting in his ear as she rides him with purpose. She cums with a gasp and then he’s gone, her whole body stuttering as she let out the most relaxed and uncontrollable moan he’s ever heard from her.

His grip on her ass tightens as he holds her hips down, he cums with a gasp and it’s so powerful he passes out.

—

He’s so cute when he sleeps.

She’s got him all cleaned up, everything put away and where it’s supposed to be in their new room. She just lays beside him as she watches him nap, blissed out and relaxed, she doesn’t even care that it’s such a typical guy thing to fall asleep right after.

That was kind of her mission.

He’s been so stressed, he wasn’t going to tell her because he didn’t want his stress to become her stress like it so often did. Feeding off each other like a fire, he really knew how to give a phrase to a feeling. But he was stressed because he was in pain from his knee and no matter how much he lied and said he was fine, she knew he wanted to relieve the pain but he was afraid of even taking a Tylenol.

This is the most relaxed he’s been in months.

She ordered a pizza while he was asleep, it arrived before he woke up too. She sets the pizza box, 2 bottles of pop and a roll of napkins at the end of the bed, gently, before getting back into her spot.

She brushed his hair from his face and kissed the tip of his nose gently, seeing him scrunch his face and swallow before blinking awake. She smiled at him, “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, beautiful.”

“I ordered pizza,” she whispers.

“Olive,” he replies.

“Well yeah,” it makes her giggle but she has to say it, “I got our regular green olives, mushrooms and extra cheese.”

He laughs too, extra happy after both the sex and his nap. “I love you,” he says the full thing this time.

She presses another kiss to his lips before hauling him into a sitting position, “I love you, too.”

It’s the best night of her life so far.

the house

Taglist: @dreatine for inspiring a part 2 <3

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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brattyfics · 4 years ago

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Cape Disappointment | Part One

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Black!OC [Chantel Williams]

Summary: Miguel doesn’t rescue a damsel in distress because Chantel Williams is not a damsel in distress.

Warnings: None yet.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things. Quirky, witty, sarcastic. Condescending, impulsive, sometimes even chaotic. She could be all those things and more, but she refused to be anyone’s victim.

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m not a damsel in distress…” She chanted over and over in a low tone.

On the side of a low traffic road, snow raining down on her head, Chantel willed the words to be true. Unfortunately, she remembered very little of what her Papa taught her about cars, eyeing the confusing parts under the hood with frustration.

Papa was a school teacher but he worked as a shade tree mechanic on the weekends to be able to afford dance classes for little Chantel. Teaching was his passion through and through. He would talk her ear off in the car on the way to recitals or while she did homework on the bench in his workshop. Being a bratty kid, she learned to tune him out when the topic didn’t interest her and not for the first time she regretted not soaking up more of Papa’s wisdom before he passed.

If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road with no solution in mind. Empty handed and no closer to fixing the car, she shuffled through the snow. It wasn’t much warmer inside the car despite the thick North Face coat she wore with a matching hat and pair of gloves. She was sure she resembled a wet dog as she shook the snow off, not wanting the ice to melt into water droplets that would surely sting.

Just a week earlier, she’d splurged on the fanciest new smart phone after losing the older model at a dinner party. Even with all its promised features, it was useless. No signal and no nearby WiFi networks to connect to meant she couldn’t call her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend for help even if she wanted to. She couldn’t even call a tow truck!

Pride.

Another one of Chantel’s many traits. She liked to think of it as a positive thing. It kept her from being desperate, saved her from being dependent on others for her happiness. No one else seemed to agree her pride was a good thing.

Among the naysayers was her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend, Adam. Pride was what had led her to take off from the Yurt they shared on their week-long winter break getaway to race back to her industrial loft in the heart of Seattle despite the weather advisory. She would never admit it to anyone else, but she realized her pride didn’t always serve her well.

If not for her bruised ego, it would have been funny that her car had chosen to break down a few miles north of Cape Disappointment State Park. It was where she had been staying with Adam. The yurt was too far away to walk back to in the snow but still close enough that it only made sense to stay there for the night once the car issues were resolved. She wasn’t looking forward to ending the night with him.

Remembering Papa’s belief in God showing up when most needed, Chantel sent up a quick prayer. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for someone else to come down the otherwise deserted road. Winters in Washington were fairly mild so she wouldn’t lose her extremities to hypothermia or anything crazy like that, but she’d certainly suffer by way of the shivers.

Any sane person was cuddled up next to the fireplace in their cabin with a bowl of chili, or participating in heat-inducing sexual activities in their yurt to keep warm, not on the road driving. It was only natural for her thoughts to snowball into all the types of un-same people she could run into.

Indigenous women from Washington and Canada went missing far too often on roads just like the one she had so conveniently broken down on. Chantel had a bad habit of researching everything there was to know about topics when they peaked her interest and she knew too much about human trafficking in the area to not feel a considerable amount of fear.

“That would be my luck.” She muttered meanly to herself, resolving that whatever happened would be her own fault.

It wasn’t like a whole lot of people would come looking for her anyway. She had a large group of friends in Seattle, but she kind of had a reputation for taking off without saying much. She hadn’t even told anyone about the weekend excursion to Cape Disappointment! The family she had left she wasn’t close to, and by the time Adam realized she hadn’t made it back home it would be too late.

Yellow headlights bathed the narrow road, the light blinding her the closer it got. Her hazard lights blinked red, signaling that she was broken down, but Chantel second guessed whether she wanted the help.

“I’m going to be a sex trafficking victim all in the name of independence. Way to go, idiot.”

Her fingers fumbled around in the gigantic backpack she’d been using as a purse for the weekend, hastily pulling at the zippers until she found what she was looking for. A purple taser she purchased on Amazon for a whopping ten dollars. She doubted it would stop anyone in their tracks, but it was better than nothing.

It turned out the man who knocked on her window wasn’t an axe wielding serial murdering rapist, or at least he didn’t appear to be. She tucked the small device into her side as the ridiculously handsome middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard smiled at her through the foggy glass.

He looked harmless enough, sporting a pair of smart designer glasses and what Chantel knew to be a really expensive cashmere turtleneck sweater underneath an equally expensive Canada Goose coat. She wasn’t shy about looking him up and down as she assessed the risk. What if the male model was a decoy?

His neatly manicured eyebrows twisted down in confusion and she thought it was one of the cutest things she had ever seen.

She rolled down the window with a nervous smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

She hated how breathy the words came out but he was truly stunning.

Tall, fit, well-dressed.

“Are you alright? It looks like you’re having some trouble.”

A gentleman.

“What would make you think that?” Chantel spoke before she thought it through, but the stranger didn’t seem to take offense if the amused smirk on his face could be trusted. “I’m kidding. Yeah, no. I’m not alright. The car was making weird noises so I pulled over and now it won’t turn back on. I looked under the hood but I have no idea what’s wrong.”

He nodded attentively while she spoke, watching her lips with interest. She noticed him staring and licked them.

“I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be.” His bronze skin reddened with the admission and she wondered if he was blushing or if the cold was getting to him. “I don’t know anything about cars but I can give you a ride wherever you want.”

She’d like a ride alright. In his cushiony truck that may as well have been a royal carriage considering the circumstances. Or on his handsome bearded face that she couldn’t stop staring at.

Chantel wondered if he could tell what she was thinking.

Movement caught her eye and she noticed an identical black SUV pulling off the road to park behind the one Prince Charming departed from. Her hand squeezed around the taser instinctively.

Was the sexy stranger bait to catch naive, unsuspecting girls?

“...but I’m sure we’d both rather leave it to the professionals.” He gestured back towards the dark truck and paused, noticing they weren’t alone. Her breath caught in her chest when four bulking men slammed their doors shut and started walking in their direction.

“I apologize. That’s my security team. I left without telling them.”

Hmm. A kindred spirit.

Who was he to have a security team? Was he telling the truth? Or just stalling?

She wanted to believe him. To trust that it was in human nature to help one another without some ulterior, sinister motive.

Did she even have a choice? How long would she have to wait on the next passerby? There was no guarantee they would be any better than the (so far) kind stranger and his friends.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things, but she was not naïve. With surprising coordination, she swung the door open, knocking the man back several steps. Her boots crunched as she landed in the snow.

“Back up or I’m going to tase you!” She warned, putting space between herself and the stranger while keeping an eye on the approaching men.

The corners of his mouth turned up as he fought back a smile.

Chantel scoffed. He wasn’t taking her seriously.

“I’m not fucking around!” She insisted, charging up the small device. The buzz felt more powerful than she remembered. The man seemed to think so too, changing his approach. He spoke in a soft tone. “Can we slow down?”

“Don’t patronize me. Just back up like I said. No, this way!” She ordered until he stood across from her with his back to his men.

Behind him, they speed up their approach but they could only move so fast in the snow. Following her gaze, the strange man looked over his shoulder and gestured for the men to stall at the front of his truck several feet away. One of them shouted at her to put the taser away from his position. He sported two braids and a cut in his brow. Chantel shouted back at him to ‘shut the fuck up’

Mr. GQ gave another signal and like he was the conductor of an orchestra, all noise ceased. Well, all external noise at least. Chantel swore she could hear the sound of her heart ringing in her ears.

“Hey!” He demanded her full attention. His hands were up in a defensive position. “What are you looking for here?”

It was a great question but she had no answer for him.

Trouble maker. Fire starter. Full-time agitator.

Chantel was that way even as a child, responding to normal adolescent teasing with violence. Sharp bites in the classroom or royal rumble style fights on the playground were her specialty in grade school. She made anyone stupid enough to provoke her regret it whether big or small, male or female. That wasn’t to say she was organized or calculating in her plans. She acted and dealt with things as they came.

She had no idea what the endgame was when she pulled the taser, but she had to stick with it. The crowd of onlookers made her feel more justified in her rash decision.

“I don’t think you really want to hurt me.”

“Now, what would make you think that?” Chantel asked incredulously. He didn’t know her from Eve.

She was even more steadfast in pointing the taser in his direction but he didn’t seem phased.

“When you want to hurt somebody, you don’t wait around or warn them. You just do it.”

“Are you suggesting I should’ve tased you?”

He shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.

“That certainly would have been more effective.”

Was he serious?

“I mean I still can. If you keep talking I just might.”

He had the gall to laugh in her face.

Hysterically.

And it wasn’t fleeting or sarcastic. It was genuine laughter from deep down in his gut. She hated how beautiful he was, even in the middle of showing blatant disrespect for her ability to harm him.

“Seriously?” She griped, fighting against the way her face muscles twitched.

Giggle box.

When somebody at church mispronounced a word during the announcements or when her aunt murdered a hit song, she giggled uncontrollably. Papa chastised her for it, but it couldn’t be helped. When the urge struck and she got that itch in her throat, she had to laugh.

So naturally, like two birds of a maniac feather they shared a laugh in four (and counting) inches of snow.

***

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus

MIGUEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes @taylortheeshowpony

#mayans mc #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x black!reader #miguel galindo x black!oc #miguel galindo x reader

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oohyansi · 4 years ago

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ASYMPTOTE LINES.

"they always say to expect the unexpected, and sometimes you just have to go with the flow of life. i guess meeting you is not the worst thing after all; i never knew life could be this thrilling and beautiful again — i just hope you'll always choose to stay and never leave my side..."

PAIRING: idol jaehyun x idol reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, smut

WARNINGS: no warnings, just enjoy the ride & surprises (lol jk this would contain a lot of smut and fluff probably and a whole roller coaster ride)

CHARACTERS INTRO:

NCT as NCT, Jaehyun as the Jeong Jaehyun himself, You as a member of a 4-member girl group from SM Entertainment called IRIS, Johnny Seo as your cousin.

STATUS: coming soon.

PLOT: if there's one thing you can be compared to, that's a pretty solid rock. but everything changed when you finally decided to go back to Korea. entering the industry have let you meet people that that turned your life into something worth living again, and having him is one of the best part. from strangers to best friends, and who knows what's next? will it stay that way? will it be more than that? or will it fall apart?

PROLOGUE:

You have everything; the looks, the talents, the brains, and the perfect family. You are an only child, your family is known to be wealthy as your parents are both surgeons. Your parents might be busy at work, but they never failed to make you feel so loved. Little did you and your father knew, your mother was suffering from depression. You have everything — but not until she passed away. Your family became a mess and your father decided to leave and settle in another country for the both of you to move on with your lives. You were 10 years old when you moved to Canada, stayed there and studied Psychology. You are an excellent student, that's why you got accelerated and graduated earlier. Your father — he overworked himself. It's like as if you lost him as well with your mother. He still provided you with the comfortable life and everything you need, aside from attention and affection. This is why you grew up to be so reserved, an introvert, who forgot to express affection and how it felt; you became cold and heart could barely feel emotions at all. You never healed.

After you graduated, something in your mind sparked up. You ponder on things, a voice echoed in the back of your head, it was your mother's voice. She would often remind you that "life is beautiful" and that no matter what happens, always find a reason to continue and have the courage to keep going. This leads you to feeling the urge to go back home, and face everything you left there; all the memories that comes with pain, waiting for you — thinking that if you could finally and accepted what happened fully, you'll be able to overcome that burden in your heart for so long, hoping that you can live your life again. One night, without thinking, you booked yourself a flight to Korea and called your father, who's at work in the hospital, telling him you'll go back to Korea and you already made up your mind, although you know to yourself that you do not have any plans as you go back. He just agreed and said he's ask your cousin, Johnny, to pick you up and help you settle as you go back. You love your father and didn't want to leave him alone, you felt a bit of guilt, even though it seemed like he left you first. You love him but a part of you won't deny the fact that you hated him a little for almost forgetting he still has a daughter who needs him. But that's long gone, you don't need anyone anymore. You've become independent, so used to and comfortable with your own, not having the slightest need to depend on anyone.

7:00pm Seoul, South Korea

After a long flight, you finally arrived. Slowly opening your eyes as your plane landed, seeing a familiar place through the plane window where your heart beats rapidly for the first time in a while, you felt home. As you walk out the airport, your eyes instantly wandered looking for a familiar face. On the right side, you saw a hella tall guy with a wide smile plastered in his face, looking and waving at you. There he is, your older cousin Johnny waiting for you. You both aren't that close with each other since you both grew up in a different place, yet back when you were young and everything was fine, you played with each other a lot in family gatherings. He would send you messages on your birthday or holidays to greet you, you knew he's busy since he debuted as an idol. He also occasionally sends you messages asking how have you been, knowing how broke you've become after your mother's death. Seeing him again feels nostalgic and warm. You walked fast towards him and he welcomed you open arms giving you a quick yet tight hug, and you did the same as you both smiled.

"It's been a while, Y/N. You're all grown up now." He said after the hug, with a warm smile, patting your head like he used to before when you get annoyed by his teases when you were just kids. "How have you been?" He asked.

"Pretty good, hyung." You answered with a soft smile, although it's a lie. You've never been good for the past 9 years. You used to call him hyung before and not oppa for no reason. "You're the one who grew up hyung, look at you! I look like a tiny kid standing in front of you." You let out a small laugh, joking about his height as he also laughed, but quickly displayed a shocked expression in his face as he forgot something.

"Ah- by the way Y/N, i'm actually with someone here" He said as he slowly moved to his side, revealing another person standing behind him since earlier.

"This is Jaehyun, he's my member and a good friend. I asked him to come with me, you know, it's boring to drive alone" he said with a small laugh while scooting more to the side, giving you a full look on the guy he's referring to. You knew your cousin is an idol, you can sometimes saw their group's performances while scrolling through your phone, but you never really got to know about them. You had no interest, you rarely had interest in anything aside from studying. But you are so proud of your cousin just knowing that he finally fulfilled his dream.

Your eyes landed on him, you took a quick yet good look on him, enough to notice he's just wearing a casual attire with a pair of ripped jeans and a black shirt, looking so soft with his hair down.

"Hi, Y/N." He gave you a smile, and his deep dimples on the sides of his cheek did not remain unnoticed by you. Actually, it got you a little distracted; but you weren't that amazed. You've seen a lot of good looking guys back in Canada, majority of them asking you out, but you never really went out with anyone. You got no time and interest in dating, you couldn't even feel emotions by yourself.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you" You said with a smile back, handing your hand over him for a hand shake. You noticed how he was staring at you with eyes you cannot explain what those meant, before he looked at your hand, back to your face. He reached his hands to meet yours.

"Me too." and the moment your hand touched, you felt how warm and soft his hands are, you felt a little flustered on how tight his hand holding yours, not tight enough to hurt tho. You held hands a little longer than the usual handshake would take, before you retreat your hand from him softly, beaming him another smile. You noticed how Johnny's eyes looked at you and Jaehyun for a couple of times with a very small smile on his mouth, almost not visible but you sort of knew what it meant. They gave each other a quick look you did not noticed as you looked at your phone to check the time.

"Y/N, it's half past 7:00, have you eaten?" Johnny asked.

"Not yet hyung. Have you? Let's go for dinner?" You replied to as he took your baggage.

"Sure! Bet you missed korean food, where do you want to eat?" Johnny asked as you walked out of the airport heading to the parking lot where his car parked. You are on the left side of Johnny, while Jaehyun is in his right side.

"Choose for me hyung, I haven't been here for almost half of my life. I could barely recall the restaurants we used to dine before" You said chuckling softly, realizing how long you've been away from the place that's supposed to be your home.

"Yeah, you never visited! You like Vancouver that much?" He said with a playful whine and you just smiled at him when you already reached the parking lot and his car. He started to put your luggage in the trunk, Jaehyun helping him.

"Nah, I didn't liked it that much, Vancouver is a great place but... nothing beats home, i guess? I just needed to stay there with no choice." You said and the last few words were said in almost a whisper. You're chuckling, but Johnny knew what you meant.

He walked to you and put his hand on the top of your head again and pat it, "Well you're here now! We'll pick up all you left and missed out, don't worry." He said, giving you an assuring smile. You gave a genuine smile back, knowing that this is the start of putting your life back into place. You sure had a lot of worries on your mind, not knowing where to even start or what to do, but all you hope for is that you don't regret coming back.

You all went to the car, you sat on the passenger seat while Jaehyun sat at the back. While choosing for a restaurant, Johnny asked Jaehyun for his suggestion and you all agreed to go on his favorite restaurant, it is a 45-minute drive from the airport but it's just fine as you can relax a bit in the car after your long flight. Johnny played relaxing music and asked you about your graduation, how have you been, and random stuffs for the first 20mins while the rest of the time he just let you rest on the seat.

Along the quite long drive, you did not fail to notice Jaehyun looking at you through the rearview mirror. You pretended you did not notice it, but you can feel his stares back and forth the mirror and your back.

JAEHYUN'S POV

Fuck. The moment I saw her walking out of the airport with that smile as she recognized Johnny, realizing she's that 'cousin' we're about to pick up, I couldn't believe my eyes. Of course I acted cool, but hell, I couldn't take my eyes off her. She's so beautiful. I felt my insides shuffle a little when I heard her voice, she sounds like an angel. I can smell her when she got close, and damn. She smells so good.

Seeing beautiful faces have become normal for me, for us in the entertainment industry, but I am lost for words for her beauty, I'm not even sure if the word beauty is enough to describe her. Her long hair just lying on her waist, wearing a pair of knee length boots and a black dress and coat, she looked perfect. How come someone out there, who's supposed to be in Korea, looking this good, just flashing right in front of my eyes just now?

What took you so long?

Those are the words on the back of my mind. She handed out her hand to me, I hesitated shortly before taking it, thinking 'am I even allowed to touch her hands?' God, she seemed like a porcelain, too fragile to touch and to beautiful to hold her hand for free. Her hand felt so soft that I don't even want to let go. I knew Johnny noticed it too, I almost lost my cool. Giving me the look, I know he understood.

i'm damned. i did not believe the idea of love at first sight, until now.

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

author's note:

hi!! i'm actually hesitant to write this one, this is my first. I had this story on my head for quite a long time now, lol being an nctzen really get your imagination worked up 😆 I just wrote this semi long prologue to know if I should countinue this one or just keep this imagination to myself lol. PLS let me know if you're interested on how this delulu story would go. if you say so, I'm willing exert effort in writing this the best way I could to deliver the story at it's best too. all the love, czennies!!

ps. I am jungwoo biased but jaehyun, this guy... I know we can all agree that he has a special place in our hearts, that's why he's the main character in here. 🤍

and the title, i'm not a fan of mathematics but I loved the concept of lines. you can search what asymptote lines means... 😉

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me-and-your-husband · 4 years ago

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Honey, I’m Home (Part 2)

Summary: After Steve went on the run from the government after the events of civil war, you await the day you can see him and your daughter again. When that day comes, a new hope s found.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Dad!Steve Rogers, Mom!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, bearded steve

Word Count: 2.1k

Part 1

Sam opened the back door of the black Cadillac Escalade for me to take a seat inside. I did so as Bucky took his place in the passenger’s seat. When Sam got in, he started the car, put his seatbelt on, and put the car into drive. We sat in silence for a few moments, before I finally spoke up, the empty noise becoming too much to avoid.

“Where are we going?” I questioned as Sam’s eyes briefly met mine in the rearview mirror. Bucky drew a deep breath and huffed it out.

“After what happened at the airport, we brought Jane to a safehouse in Germany. After everything transpired and Steve broke the rest of the team out of custody, we all became fugitives. We’ve been on the run for the past year and a half,” Bucky clarified.

“Steve and Jane are in another safe house in the Canadian Rockies with the rest of the team that were on his side,” Sam added. I hummed in understanding and turned my face to look out the window.

Soon after, we were boarding a plane, using fake passports, of course. Once the plane successfully took off, Bucky put on a set of headphones and Sam nodded off. I noticed a small pad of paper and a pen in the seat pouch in front of me, and so I took it out and began sketching. My hand danced around the rough paper, crossing over lines and margins. I sketched from memory, and from what I remembered my daughter to look like.

I stared down at the completed sketch, coming out quite like the way I remembered three-year-old Jane. It was not as smooth and professional as Steve’s sketches, but you could still be impressed by it. My eyes started to fill with tears, the realization finally hitting me like a tsunami hits a small island.

I was finally going to see my family. After all this waiting, suffering, I was finally going to run my fingers through my daughter’s hair and tell her it was going to be alright. I was finally going to kiss my husband goodnight after a day of playing games at the beach and having a family picnic. I was finally going to have back the life that I missed so dearly.

I let a few tears make their way down my cheeks, before wiping them discreetly with the back of my hand. I looked to my right to see Bucky slipping his headphones off, a loft jazz tune revealing what he was listening to. Steve listened to the same type of music. It reminded him of a time when things were not so complicated.

“She looks almost identical to you, now,” Bucky said, staring down at the drawing on my lap. “She still has Steve’s blue eyes and blonde hair, but if not those then she would be your twin,” Bucky said as a smile crept onto my face, just imagining her. My five-year -old girl. My five-year-old girl. So much time has passed.

I sit in silence and can’t help but wonder to myself the worst. What if she doesn’t remember me? She will. She has to, right? I’m her mother, there’s some type of bond there where you just, know, right?

My overthinking is interrupted by the flight attendant letting us know we’re landing over the intercom.

When we land, I get out and am immediately glad I decided to wear a jacket. I never really believed people when they said that Canada was that cold, until now. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, trying to create some friction induced heat, but that did little. Luckily, Sam packed accordingly.

“Here, put these on over your clothes,” he said as he handed me a fluffy parka, a pair of sweatpants, a weird beanie (which I would later find out they called “toques” in Canada), some mittens, and winter boots.

“People actually live in the cold like this?” I queried, to which both Sam and Bucky chortled.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we’ve been doing it for the past couple of months,” Sam stated.

“You think this is cold? Try spending a winter in Saskatchewan, Jesus, it’s got nothin’ on Alberta,” Bucky added.

“Is that where we are?” I questioned, and Bucky confirmed it with a hum.

Sam led us to another car, this time it was a black Dodge Ram. I guess if we were going to the mountains, we would need a heavy-duty vehicle, one meant to trek mountains.

I stepped up onto the foot rail, and hoisted myself in. We fastened our seatbelts, and I managed to read the time over Sam’s shoulder; 4:39 PM. It was already getting dark, a behavior I assume was regular during Canadian winters.

Sooner than later, my head fell against my chest as I slept a bittersweet sleep, thankful for the rest, as it would pass the time and bring me closer to seeing my family, but also not wanting to miss a single second of the journey to my imagination.

When I awoke, it was to Bucky shaking me lightly and whispering my name. I blinked back the sleep, and drowsily climbed out of the truck. I took in my surroundings. It was pitch black outside, but it only felt like nine or ten. I spun around, to see a huge, cozy looking hotel with trees and snow surrounding it. My mouth hung agape as Sam and Bucky ushered me into the hotel.

Sam checked us in for a one night’s stay, and as much as I wanted to see my family, the sooner the better, I knew that not Sam nor Bucky were accustomed to drive through the snow in the dark.

Bucky and Sam ended up sharing a bed, whilst they insisted upon me having the other one to myself. They made it out to be them just being courteous, but I really think they knew Steve would destroy them for sleeping in the same bed as his best girl.

The morning consisted of a quick pot of coffee to wake us up, and then we were right back on the road, Bucky driving this time. Casual conversations were made, just them asking me what I have been up to for the past while. Nothing much had happened, but I didn’t want to seem like a bore, so I only told them the interesting bits.

Soon, we were in the mountains, occasionally stopping for gas and snacks at random pitstops. I couldn’t help but feel like a little kid on a road trip, constantly wanting to ask, “are we there yet?” or “are we almost there? How much longer?”. Eventually, Sam announced that we would be there in about five minutes, which really grabbed my attention.

“By the way, he doesn’t know you’re coming,” Sam said, which barely fazed me, as I was too excited. My leg bounced up and down like a giddy teenager during an exam, and I could feel my heart beating in my throat.

In a short amount of time, we pulled onto a gravel road, which had recently been neatly shoveled. It weaved through a thick forest, sometimes catching deer in the headlights. The path was shadowy and was barely lit, considering the trees looming over us blocking the sun. The rocky sound of driving across gravel and freshly packed snow filled our ears as we made our way down the trail.

Soon enough, which felt too long even in itself, we came to a clearing. In the middle of that clearing, was a huge, three story log cabin, with multiple vehicles, varying size, type, model, year, color, and brand, scattered around the lot. Before my jaw could fall off its hinges, a familiar female giggle caught my attention. I turned my head to look through the window, to where I saw Wanda and Vision having a snowball fight. I guess Vision must have reconciled with Wanda, and realized that our side was the right to be on.

The truck pulled up to the front of the house, and I slowly, as if mesmerized, took of my seatbelt. Wanda and Vision greeted Bucky and Sam, and they froze when they seen me. I gave them both a small wave and a smile as my feet hit the soft snow, and I may have come across as rude for not greeting them properly, but that could be saved for later. I turned my head to Sam, who quickly understood what I was getting at.

“Inside,” He stated, gesturing towards the big double doors of the manor. My heart skipped a beat as I clambered up the few steps leading to the porch and grasped the wood door handles. I took a breath in and swung the doors open. My eyes wandered the wood interior, before getting caught in a movement at the other end of the hall. I sprinted to where I saw that movement, and looked to my left, where some type of bedroom was located.

Clint sat on the bed, holding a framed photo of his wife and kids. Before he could see me, I made my way back down the hall, and started frantically running around the maze of a place, trying to find my family. It was around noon, so it was very likely that they could be in the kitchen, eating.

When I finally reached the huge kitchen, nobody was to be found. I let out a small sigh, but before I turned to walk out, I heard a voice coming from the next room over.

“Okay, Janie! Ready or not, here I come!” said that voice I knew all too well. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I took fast steps to the entrance of that room, the living room.

Standing beside the fireplace, was Steve Rogers, but he was different. His back faced me, but I could still see him in the mirror above the fireplace. He had a harder look to him, but those soft eyes I always adored were still there. He had grown out his hair, and now had a nicely trimmed beard. I took a sharp breath in, which must have alerted him that someone was there. He always joked about me being the only one who could sneak up on him.

His eyes met mine in the mirror, and his clenched jaw softened. He slowly lifted his head and spun around to face me. My breaths were shaky as he slowly took a step towards me.

“God, please tell me it’s you, Y/N, because I think if I have to convince myself that I’m seeing you one more time, I’ll go crazy,” He pleaded, his brows knit together.

“Yes,” I said, my voice cracking as my vision started to blur with tears. “It’s me, I promise you it’s me,” I said, as I ran towards him, immediately wrapping his arms around me and pressing his nose into the crook of my neck. I inhaled a long, sharp breath through my nose, missing the way he smelled, as well as the way he felt, the way his voice sounded in the morning, the way looked as his muscles flexed under his shirt when he was working out, and the way his lips tasted on mine. After I felt my tears had permanently stained his gray Henley, I pulled away. His blue eyes were so easy to get lost in, but the overwhelming need to kiss him, to feel him again, outweighed anything else in that moment. Our lips were together in an instant, in a passionate kiss. My hands rested at the back of his neck, and his on my cheeks, his body heat instantly warming me up from the chilly climate of Alberta. After we both pulled away for a breath, he rested his head against mine. I ran a hand down his beard clad cheek, and scratched it gently, to relay that I liked it, which elicited a smile from him.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I-“

“Daddy! What are you doing, are we still playing hide and seek?” said a little girl’s voice. My breath caught in my throat. Steve looked over my shoulder, and back to my eyes. He gave me a knowing look, and I slowly turned on my heels.

“Mommy?”

“Baby…”

“Mommy!” Jane screamed as she dropped her stuffed rabbit and sprinted towards me. I fell to my knees and held my arms open for her. I held her in my arms like that, like the day she was born, for what felt like forever. I don’t even remember exactly when Steve wrapped his arms around us. Silent cries and sniffles could be heard coming from either one of us.

Finally, I was where I should be, home.

Thank you guys so much for the support on the first part :)

Would you guys want an epilogue?

#steve rogers x reader #dad!steve rogers #steve rogers #captain america civil war #captain america #The Avengers #Avengers #marvel #marvel angst

126 notes · View notes

fallinnflower · 4 years ago

Text

(you’re my) home

seungkwan x reader (exes to lovers!au, angst, fluff)

a/n: this took far longer than i thought it would, but i hope i did seungkwan justice! title is taken from the lyrics of “home,” of course~ thanks @wangtuanian as always for listening to me when i’m throwing ideas at the wall. in the editing stages this was referred to as “like a slow burn but worse,” so... yeah, happy reading!

wc: 9,086

August 29

“So, you’re saying you want to break up?”

“Well, I mean — yeah. I just don’t think I can do distance. And if we break up while you’re abroad and end up hating each other…”

“It’ll be awkward.”

“Right.”

“Right. Okay. Then let’s break up, Seungkwan.”

December 25

It was only two days after that conversation with Seungkwan that you boarded a plane for Canada. Despite the content of the conversation, your attitudes remained the same — he still tacked a heart onto the last text message you received before your plane rose off the tarmac, and he was still one of the first people you messaged once you had settled into your dorms. Although over the months you fell out of sync and out of contact (at least, in comparison to how you used to be — attached at the hip), you found yourself always thinking of Seungkwan. With your morning coffee, at your evening meal, on a walk to campus; your first love was in everything you did, and it took weeks for you to fall out of the habit of sending him a picture of every little thing that made you think of him.

When his name popped up on your screen for FaceTime calls, there was still a heart next to his name. Sometimes you almost slipped up and said you loved him when he bid you goodnight, and instead you would settle for ‘sweet dreams,’ tucking yourself into bed and wrapping your arms around a pillow like you used to do him.

And in December, when you descended the escalators in the bustling airport, there was still one familiar face you found yourself searching for, the same way you’d found yourself asking him for a ride when there were plenty of other friends with cars you could have contacted. Old habits die hard, you know it the moment you see him and your heart still skips a beat, legs itching to run to him, unseen forces drawing you ever nearer to the only boy you’ve ever loved—

You take a deep breath, smile coolly and wave from the bottom of the escalators to get his attention. His eyes light up for a moment when he sees you, then fade back to their usual sparkle, as if seeing you struck his heart like a match. He waits for you to make your way to him, and yet when you stand directly before him neither of you knows where to put your hands, your eyes, your words.

“Hey,” he says, eventually, dark eyes boring into yours. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” After a moment of deliberation, you both find yourself moving towards each other, your hand leaving the handle of your suitcase hesitantly, blood buzzing to be near him.

The sudden sound of the conveyor belt behind Seungkwan startles you both into stillness, and the both of you revert back to your previous positions, maintaining the distance between you.

“Is it, um— are you still using the purple suitcase?” Seungkwan asks, taking your carry-on from you and wheeling it towards the belt.

“Yeah,” you say. He nods. The two of you stand side by side, eyes glued to the rotating carousel of luggage, waiting for the suitcase you’ve had since high school to come rolling by. The moment it does, Seungkwan lunges forward to grab it, taking hold of both of your suitcases as you follow him out of the terminal to his car.

Without thinking, you snag the aux cord as Seungkwan pulls out of the garage, but falter as you go to plug your phone in.

“Oh, um, did you want to play anything?” You ask, still holding onto the plug. Seungkwan shakes his head too fast,

“No, no, it’s fine. Go ahead.”

Your newest favorite song fills the car, and you shift your gaze out the window. Watching the bustling streets pass you by, you somehow feel foreign. With Seungkwan sitting beside you, fingers nervously drumming on the steering wheel, all you feel is the heavy weight of the silence, a burden you haven’t shouldered since before the two of you started dating. After a few anxious seconds spent at a red light, you find yourself huffing a breath out through your nose and pressing skip on your phone until you get to a song you know Seungkwan knows.

But even with his humming accompanying the tune, the overbearing awkwardness still speaks volumes.

December 31

“Are you coming to Seungcheol’s party?” Soonyoung asks. You cradle your phone between your shoulder and ear, shoving your freshly washed clothing into the dryer. You hadn’t thought about how much laundry you’d have to do after being gone for a semester, but you’re glad you have the break to do it.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Should I?”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he isn’t even thinking twice about the one person who gives you pause every second of every minute of every day.

“We haven’t hung out in forever, Y/N. Come on!”

“Soonyoung…” You shove the dryer door closed and pass your free hand through your hair. “I just— I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“But we’re gonna do the countdown and everything! Josh even promised he’d make us some American food!”

After a long moment, you let out a sigh.

“Fine.”

“Good! We’ll come get you at 7.”

“We?”

“Bye!”

“Soonyoung—!”

You check the time once you notice he’s hung up, frowning when you realize you only have a little over an hour to get ready but also get your laundry back upstairs before Soonyoung and whoever the hell else comes to drag you to Seungcheol’s.

If you’re honest, you’re not really in the partying spirit. You’re exhausted from cleaning your room and reorganizing all your things, catching up on sleep and readjusting to Korean time. All you want to do is lie around like a rock, but Soonyoung is right — it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your friends. For what it’s worth, you do miss them, but the drive back to your apartment with Seungkwan was a harrowing reminder of the time you’ve been gone and the changes that the passing sands brought. You just aren’t sure you’re ready to face all those changes head-on.

Nonetheless, you don a party-worthy outfit and attempt to put some care into your makeup, though the effort is exhausting enough that by the time you’re done you can’t be bothered to mess around much with your hair. You drag your fingers through it until it looks decent, then shove on a pair of slippers to go get your laundry. As you make your way back up, you think you have half a mind to just wear them to the party — who cares, after all? You’ll probably end up crashing on a couch and getting a ride back from Cheol in the morning.

Or Seungkwan, a little voice in the back of your mind nags. You kick your apartment door open and then closed behind you, shaking your head to get the thoughts away. It hasn’t even been a week since you’d been home; a week since the evening you forced yourself to change his contact in your phone back to the bland ‘seungkwan’ it had been when you’d first saved his number. Somehow, it’s both too easy and too difficult to think about him; he’s too much and too often in your life and not enough, never enough.

When Soonyoung comes to get you, you realize the ‘we’ he was referring to is just Minghao, Jun, and Chan. You try to convince yourself you aren’t disappointed, but you’ve never been good at lying. Nonetheless, you manage to crack a genuine smile once smushed in the backseat between Jun and Chan, arms and legs all crammed together. As the music rumbles around you and out the cracked-open windows, you promise yourself that tonight, you’re going to have fun.

By ten minutes to midnight, you’re on your third drink (some fruity, overly sweet concoction courtesy of a tipsy Hansol) and the party is in full swing. Soonyoung has taken charge of the music, all wall-shaking bass and beats that make your body want to move. You’re not much of a dancer, but you’ve got enough alcohol in you that you allow Junhui to pull you into the living room, mimicking his actions and frequently dissolving into fits of laughter when you realize how awkward and gangly your movements are in comparison to the lithe, graceful Chinese boy. Any stumbles simply make you laugh harder, quickly shifting from tipsy territory into drunkenness. The alcohol sloshes around in your half-emptied cup, and you feel suddenly very tired as the current song fades into the next. You make your way to one of the couches, dropping heavily down next to the party’s host and unceremoniously plop your head down on his shoulder. He reaches up to sloppily pat your hair, and you swat the offending strands away from your lips and the places where they stick to the sweat on your face.

“Yah, Hoshi! Turn the music down, it’s almost midnight!” You cringe at the loudness of Seungcheol’s voice and lift your head from its perch on his shoulder. You run a hand through your hair, smoothing it down.

“Five!” Joshua calls, emerging from the kitchen with a few of the other partygoers. The TV’s display is now taken up by a large slideshow of numbers.

“Four!” you yell along with everyone else. Unthinking, your eyes search for the source of one familiar voice—

“Three!”

He’s standing on the opposite side of the room, flanked by Hansol and Seokmin, Soonyoung standing behind the trio with his hands on Hansol’s shoulders, squeezing at each tick of the second hand. Seungkwan’s gaze flits towards you, and for a moment his eyes catch yours and he turns his head. It’s almost purposeful, and you swear you see him turning his body in your direction until Soonyoung yells again, startling both of you.

“Two!”

A girl you don’t recognize under the current influence approaches Cheol, pulls him off the couch with a beaming, fond smile. You think you must have seen her before. Or maybe you just recognize that adoring look—

“One!”

It’s rude, you know you shouldn’t stare, but you don’t even realize your eyes are glued to them until the music kicks back up and Seungcheol is pulling away from this girl, only to cradle her in his arms. You press your fingertips to your lips, and suddenly you feel very far away. Just a year ago in this same space you’d stolen Seungkwan’s first kiss of the new year, and now you can’t even get him to properly look in your direction.

You leave your cup on the coffee table and head for the bathroom, unable to walk straight and yet attempting to remain discreet.

You don’t feel sick, but you still lower yourself to the ground near the toilet bowl. You close the lid and rest your arms atop it, dropping your face into the pit they create. The fluorescent light above your head buzzes, and the sickly sweet smell of alcohol comes wafting back up into your nose, tears stinging your eyes.

You tell yourself it’s sweat beading down your cheeks, your chin, falling onto the toilet seat. You tell yourself so even as you watch the mascara-blackened pond grow ever wider within the white plastic valley between your arms.

Three knocks interrupt the bass dropping out in the living room.

“Y/N?” A soft voice calls.

“Hannie?” you reply, voice cracking, breaths heavy.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“No,” you sniff. You aren’t sure which question you’re answering. There’s a pause, you hear his weight shift momentarily onto one of the creaky floorboards right near the door in the hallway.

“I’m coming in.” He opens the door just enough for his slender body to slip through, gently lowering himself onto his knees beside you. He reaches over your hunched back to rip a few sheets of toilet paper off the roll, carefully dabbing under your eyes with a corner. You look up to the ceiling as he wipes at the mascara smudged below your lash line. When he throws the paper in the trash, you rock forward, pressing the crown of your head against his collarbone.

“Tired?” You feel more than hear the words as they rumble up from his chest. You hum in the affirmative, and Jeonghan smooths a hand down along your spine.

“Okay. Come on. I’ll drive you home.” You realize then that Jeonghan’s breath smells like juice. He helps you up from the floor, your knees aching from the cold tile. He wraps his hand around yours, guiding you as though you’re a child through the crowd, and you find your eyes searching, always searching.

You catch a glimpse of Seungkwan mid-laugh, eyes shut and head tilted back. Your eyes remain glued to him, and even when he disappears from your field of view the image of him burns behind your eyelids.

“Jeonghan,” you start, watching his hands as he ties his shoes, unable to look away.

“Hm?”

“Do you think he misses me?” Jeonghan stands up and sighs, running a hand through his hair. Your eyes follow his movement belatedly. He reaches out to smooth your hair down, looking at you with what you think is pity. It feels the same as the way your mother looked at you when you told her Seungkwan ended things.

“I’m not the person to ask, Y/N. Now, come on.”

“Do you think he still loves me?” you ask as he pulls you out the door by your wrist. “Do you— do you think he ever loved me?”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Jeonghan sighs your name and pulls the sleeves of his sweater down over his hand, dabbing gently at your cheeks.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” You nod wordlessly, a lump in your throat making it hard to even breathe, let alone tell Jeonghan that home feels far beyond your reach now, just the same as Seungkwan is. That home isn’t home without him, not when you can only fill the lingering dip on the other side of your bed with your spare pillow and dream you hear a heartbeat where you rest your head.

With that, Jeonghan pulls you out the front door and into the night. If he notices the fresh tear tracks on your cheeks when he sees you to your door, he doesn’t comment on it beyond his lingering hug and the gentle motions of his hand patting down your hair.

You wipe away your makeup and brush the taste of alcohol off of your teeth, but each time you close your eyes you still see Seungkwan laughing behind your eyes, too far for you to reach.

January 1

More than a physical hangover, you wake up feeling emotionally dehydrated. Beyond that, you just feel plain stupid — you agreed with Seungkwan when he suggested breaking up, so why are you taking this so hard? It’s not even like he was kissing someone else to ring in the new year, you were just getting jealous of the ghost of yourself, a you that you willingly killed off.

There are a few messages waiting for you when you finally manage to reach your phone. One is from Jeonghan urging you to drink plenty of water when you wake up with his usual teasing of your drunkenness, there are a few in the groupchat that are mostly people asking if other partygoers had seen this or that forgotten object, and then beneath all of those is a short thread from Seungkwan. It appears to have come through right after you left the party, and you wish you could say you hesitated before opening it.

< hey, did you leave already?

< nvm jeonghan said you weren’t feeling well… feel better!

< happy new year, y/n.

You read the messages over and over, searching for something between the lines. How is it that mere months apart have made Seungkwan into an enigma all over again? You kick your sheets off impatiently and practically jump out of bed, itching to move but with no clear plan in mind.

Despite the frigid morning air, you find yourself wanting to go out. The streets are nearly deserted, most people sporting hangovers in the comfort of their beds, and you feel drawn to the streets below.

Your fingers are typing before you really think about what you’re doing.

happy new year! sorry for the late reply. hope you had fun at the party!! >

With the text sent, you shove your phone into your coat pocket and propel yourself out the door, breathing the frosty air in deeply. It’s cold enough that it burns down your throat, but when you exhale you feel cleaner, somehow, than you did before.

One of the many things you missed while studying abroad was your favorite cafe. You’ve been frequenting it since you started attending university, as it’s just around the corner from your complex and on the way to your campus. You wouldn’t say it’s a hole in the wall or hidden gem, because plenty of students frequent it, but it’s generally very laid-back because of its popularity amongst students. The front is all glass, with bar-style seating set up against the windows so you can look out into the sidewalk and dark wood floors that make it feel small in a cozy way. You’ve always been a fan of window seats, so you can look up when an assignment gets to be too much and catch a glimpse of the street, or the sky, and feel a little less overwhelmed and boxed in by life.

You’d taken Seungkwan here on one of your first ‘dates’ — unofficial, back in the early days when you were more acquaintances via mutual friends than friends yourselves, just getting to know each other and toeing the lines of the other’s boundaries. Your relationship blossomed due to a shared class in your major; he needed your help to pass it and you had suggested this cafe as a workspace. You can still remember it, the early-fallen autumn leaves crunching beneath your feet as you walked with him from campus down an already familiar street. Seungkwan had followed you dutifully — he was still so bashful, then, funny but holding himself back from saying too much, looking down more often than he was looking into your eyes.

You still order the same drink almost every time, something Seungkwan often teased you for once you started dating. The fact that there were all these options and you always chose the same thing, never straying — you simply told him that you knew what you liked, and your obvious flirtation always got a reaction out of him no matter how often you said it.

The cafe is emptier than usual, so you get your choice of seat; you move immediately to the open barstools with your drink and a muffin for breakfast, settling yourself in to watch the city wake up. You pull your laptop out of your bag, hoping that the familiar space will get you back into the familiar rhythm of work.

Looking up from typing in your password, you let out a scoff. Maybe this place is too familiar, because you swear you see Seungkwan at the crosswalk on the corner, coming this way. How pathetic, really, that you can’t seem to get him out of your mind—

The door opens, a gust of winter wind entering the shop, and as it does you instinctively turn to see who’s entered, heart nearly stopping at the familiar face that greets you.

“Seungkwan,” you say, without really meaning to. You hardly realize you’ve said it aloud until his wide, curious eyes meet yours.

“Y/N!” He chirps, grinning broadly at you. Your heart skips the same beat it always used to, and you can’t help but smile back. The two of you simply continue to stare at each other, wondering what to do about your current situation, and it isn’t until someone slips out the door behind Seungkwan that he finally startles back into action.

“Oh, um — is anyone sitting there?” He asks, nodding towards the barstool beside you. You shake your head, moving your bag off the seat.

“No, feel free.”

“Great, just— I’ll order and be right back,” he says, and you think you must be imagining the slight waver in his voice before he turns towards the counter. You force yourself to turn back to your work as he orders, willing yourself to stop lingering the way you have been for the past twelve hours. After a few minutes, you get so absorbed in your to-do list that you almost forget you have company until you hear the legs of the stool beside you being pulled across the floor, and a glass coming into contact with the counter.

“You still order the same thing?” he asks, a teasing edge to his voice. You take a look at his drink and raise one eyebrow.

“You’re one to talk,” you reply, “You order that like ninety percent of the time.”

“And the other ten percent of the time, I try new things,” he says, sitting up proudly. You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to your laptop.

“As if anything is new here. We’ve been coming here for, what, two years? You must’ve tried everything on the menu by now.”

“They have seasonal drinks,” he says, a little less convincingly, bringing his drink up to his lips. You hum noncommittally, unable to keep the smug grin off your face knowing you’ve won this time. Early in the relationship, the two of you had kept score of who got the last word in all your silly non-arguments, usually to determine who was paying for the next date. After a while, the number got too high to keep track of, and you found a better system to pay with. You find that your fingers have come to a standstill hovering over your keyboard, and you reach for your drink in an attempt to return yourself to normalcy. Thankfully, if Seungkwan notices your weird behavior, he doesn’t comment on it.

“So, how was the party after I left? What did I miss?” you ask, keeping your eyes on your screen. You know that if you look too long at Seungkwan it will feel like looking at the sun, and you can’t afford to be blinded right as the semester is beginning. Seungkwan lets out a little groan at your question, leaning heavily onto his elbows.

“Well, other than Mingyu almost ruining the living room carpet because he can’t hold onto a bowl to save his life, nothing.” You can’t help but giggle.

“What was it this time?”

“Salsa,” Seungkwan says, giving you a particularly disbelieving look. For a moment you hold his gaze, trying to mimic it, but it isn’t long before you both burst into laughter. A familiar warmth spreads throughout your whole body, and you feel the tension you’ve been harboring since you boarded the plane back to Korea finally slip off your shoulders.

“Seungcheol would’ve killed him,” you say, shaking your head as you try to imagine the chaos that would have ensued, but Seungkwan merely purses his lips and takes another sip of his drink before replying.

“No,” he says. “It would’ve been Joshua, Seungcheol was too busy with his new girlfriend.”

“Oh,” you start, leaning in conspiratorially. “Are they official, now?” Seungkwan lets out another groan, rolling his eyes.

“They would be, if he would actually ask her! He keeps saying he’s too nervous, he’s not sure what she’s going to say, but they’re so obvious about everything.”

“As expected from Cheol,” you muse, shrugging lightly and sipping on your drink. “Maybe I should have a talk with him.”

“Maybe we—” By some miracle, you cut yourself off before making your offer. You turn your gaze from Seungkwan so he won’t read the thoughts behind your eyes, stirring the straw in your drink as calmly as you can.

“Maybe that’ll help. Light a fire under his ass.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan laughs, and you realize with the force of it that he’s already heard the words you didn’t speak, maybe he almost spoke them himself. “Maybe.”

How foolish it would’ve been, you think, how ironic if you’d suggested a double date for Seungcheol when there’s not even a date to invite him to double on. To imply that the two of you would be of any help getting Cheol into a relationship, like you aren’t the poster children for dating disasters right now. Suddenly, the silence of the city irks you, digs under your skin, and all you want is for the espresso machine behind the counter to whir back to life so you have something, anything to distract you. You’ve lost the rhythm with Seungkwan and you know, somehow, as you take a sip of your iced coffee and stare determinedly out the window, you won’t be able to find it again in this conversation.

A phone buzzes against the countertop. You don’t even bother to turn yours over, as Seungkwan is already picking his up hurriedly. He glanced up at you nervously, free hand already reaching back for his coat where it hangs off the chair.

“I forgot Hansol wanted to go shopping today,” he explains. You smile coolly,

“Ah, I see. Don’t let him spend too much.” Seungkwan laughs weakly, watered down as he yanks his coat on in a rush. You remember when every movement was stalled, simply to linger together — 'accidentally' tying a shoelace wrong and undoing the whole thing to tie it all over again, just to hear the other’s teasing remarks for a few more moments before you really have to go — and although the atmosphere was less than comfortable you still feel his absence acutely as he finishes buttoning up his coat. He takes his cup into one hand and pushes the barstool back into place.

“See you later, Y/N.”

“See you.”

After a few moments, Seungkwan is merely a silhouette in a crowd of others just like him, and you can almost convince yourself you imagined the whole meeting in your head. You glance at your untouched muffin and, after a long moment of losing yourself in your own silence, rip off a large chunk.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the sweetness coats your mouth. Your heart aches, hungering for something else which you refuse to name, and you distract yourself with work.

January 4

Ever since the party, Jeonghan has been checking up on you. Not that he hadn’t before, because he’s always been the mothering type, but his efforts had doubled since you’d had your breakdown.

The two of you are both particularly avid coffee drinkers, so any time a new cafe is opening you’re often the first in your circle of friends to check it out — the unofficial reviewers. Just such a cafe happened to be opening on the weekend before your classes start up again, and it’s a no-brainer that you’re going.

Saturday rolls around and you make your way to the apartment Jeonghan shares with Seungcheol and Joshua. The way is familiar; before studying abroad you could be found at their apartment almost every weekend, curled up on the couch beside Seungkwan as you all watched some stupid movie.

Now it’s morning, edging onto the afternoon as you make your way up the stairs of their building. When you knock on the door it’s Seungcheol that greets you, hair still damp from his shower and eyes droopy with sleep.

“Good morning, Cheol,” you say, ruffling up his hair teasingly. He chuckles and steps aside, shaking his hair out as he lets you into the apartment.

“Jeonghan is still in the shower. Have you had breakfast?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “I’ve been up for hours, unlike all of you.” You shrug your coat off, hanging it by the door as you toe off your shoes. Seungcheol drops himself heavily onto the couch and you follow him, though you sit down less sprawlingly. No sooner do you take a seat than his phone buzzes, and you see his face light up when he reads the notification.

“Is that her?” you ask, shuffling across the couch cushions. “The girl from the party?” Seungcheol’s cheeks redden at such a fast pace that you know you’re right, and you can’t help but laugh. You nudge him with your elbow and then commence poking at his ribs playfully when he lifts his arm in an attempt to push you away.

“Stop,” he whines, trying to push your hands away, but the two of you dissolve into laughter soon enough, flopping back against the cushions. Seungcheol stares wistfully up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh.

“I really like her,” he says, softly.

“So I’ve heard,” you say. “I hear she likes you, too. Why haven’t you asked her out yet, huh?” Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line and shrugs. You remember that feeling, the constant uncertainty regardless of how much you flirt or how many dates you’ve been on, unofficial or otherwise; the constant nagging feeling and question: do they actually like me? Or is it all in my head?

You pat his shoulder, getting his attention.

“Hey,” you start softly. “Listen, Cheol, you have to take a chance. You’ll regret it if you don’t ask her out. Don’t hold yourself back from happiness, okay? When you overthink things too much, you can end up getting yourself hurt, so just do everyone a favor and stop overthinking this.”

When you finish speaking, you have to clench your jaw tight to keep from getting overly emotional. It’s too much, even though it should have nothing to do with you or Seungkwan, and yet all you can think of is that if the two of you hadn’t thought so far ahead maybe you could still be together. All being cautious had gotten you was heartbreak and an awkward atmosphere you couldn’t shake, never-ending frustration with yourself and everyone around you for no longer knowing how to act or react.

Before Seungcheol can say anything, or you can start crying, Jeonghan walks into the living area.

“Y/N-ah, you’re early,” he says, walking up behind you and Cheol. He places a hand atop each of your heads and proceeds to ruffle your hair.

“Yah, what is it with you two,” Seungcheol whines, leaning away and swatting Jeonghan’s hand. It only makes him laugh and come around the couch, grabbing at your wrist to pull you off the cushions.

“Come on, let’s go.” You manage to smile at him, though you aren’t sure how. The two of you are barely at the front door before Seungcheol is back on his phone, smiling away.

The two of you are seated at the cafe when you receive the text from Seungcheol that he has a date with the girl on Sunday, and although you manage to smile at the news your coffee and pastries taste far more bitter after that.

January 16

Objectively, of course you should have expected to be invited to Seungkwan’s birthday celebration. After all, your friends are still his friends, so it only makes sense — and yet once you’re actually sitting around the table with everyone in the bar it feels… weird.

Everything looks so similar to last year, except that you’re sitting far away from Seungkwan with Jeonghan by your side. Your ex-boyfriend is lively as ever, having consumed just enough alcohol to make him loud and red in the face, though you know that once this high wears off he’ll go on one of his late night walks to steep in his emotions. In this large a group you had hoped you would feel more comfortable, and yet all you can seem to notice is all the half-pitying looks all your friends keep shooting your way. They look at Seungkwan and then at you and their smiles falter.

You’re the one who leaves first. It’s a Thursday night and you have a morning class; and more than that you just feel awkward. You go to stand outside, even in the bitter cold, because it feels better to actually be alone than to feel isolated at a table full of people. There’s a bench just a ways down, so you take a seat and breathe into your hands to warm them. Still, you don’t want to go home just yet.

“Y/N.”

Seungkwan sits down beside you, though his approach is too fast and he ends up sliding along the bench until he knocks pretty forcefully into your side.

“Slow down there,” you laugh, helping him to sit up straight. As you move to take your hands off him, he suddenly takes hold of your fingers, squishing them between his warm palms. He leans in close to you, so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re coming to my recital, right? Next week?” You blink at him, feeling intoxicated off his presence alone. Your head seems to be spinning, and you find yourself unable to get a grip on anything. It takes you a moment to respond, but Seungkwan doesn’t seem to notice, still grinning at you with his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“You want me there?”

He seems to sober up in an instant at that, brows furrowed at your question.

“Of course. I always want you there.” The words make your heart flutter. You only wish he wasn’t drunk. You muster up a smile, though it feels stiff, and nod.

“Then, I’ll be there.”

Seungkwan doesn’t let go of your hands, not even when all your friends come pouring out of the bar onto the sidewalk, yelling and calling for the two of you. It isn’t until Seokmin and Soonyoung actually come to scoop him off the bench and into a taxi back to their shared apartment that he lets go. He waves at you, beaming as they pile into the back of a cab, and you wave half-heartedly back.

You stay sitting on the bench until you can barely feel your legs, and then you call a cab. In the morning, you almost think the conversation was all a dream — but your calendar now has ‘Seungkwan’s recital’ listed as an event next Friday. You bury your face in your pillow and try not to cry.

January 20

The weekend passes with almost nothing notable happening. Busywork occupies most of your time, falling back into the routine of classes and the structure of having a class schedule. It takes your mind off of the events from Seungkwan’s birthday, but at night, left to your own devices, you find you have trouble sleeping.

Monday rolls around, and you drag yourself out of bed to your first class of the day at nine in the morning. You spend the time between that and lunch in the library, forcing yourself to focus and get work done — you know if you go back to your apartment you won’t be productive in the slightest, so you stick around campus.

It’s a little past eleven when you decide to go get lunch. You tend to dislike waiting in lines, so you’ve made it a habit over the years to eat a bit earlier whenever possible; luckily for you, your next class is at half-past eleven, so your schedule is pretty accommodating. Since getting back from your semester abroad, you haven’t actively eaten lunch with anyone. After all, the semester has barely started, and some of your friends are still sorting out their schedules.

Also, they all still look at you in pity, or like they’re worried you’re going to do something reckless. You wish they would just ask you about your time abroad, even if it means answering the same stock questions over and over again. Anything is better than being reminded of the loss you still feel so acutely yourself.

You’re searching the cafeteria for a seat, preferably one where you can listen to music and eat in solitude, when two pairs of excitedly waving hands catch your attention. When you look down the arms extended in the air, you find the familiar faces of Seungkwan’s roommates, Seokmin and Soonyoung. Both of them are beaming at you and wave you over to their table. For a moment you hesitate, but you can’t think of a reason not to join them, so you take the empty seat beside Soonyoung and across from Seungkwan.

The two greet you loudly, as per usual. Seungkwan murmurs a greeting when he swallows his food, then stuffs his mouth full again before you can even respond. As you begin eating your own food, you can't help but wonder what Seungkwan is thinking. It's obvious to you he's nervous, but about what you aren't sure. You have a sinking feeling it's you. Maybe him asking you to come to his recital was just drunken antics after all, since he doesn't seem to want you at his lunch table.

His own nervousness only makes you more nervous than you had been. It makes you feel like an intruder. While Soonyoung and Seokmin chatter away in their usual excited way, speaking almost nonstop, seemingly oblivious to the wall of silence beside them. One chews while the other replies and so it goes on — Seungkwan pushes his food around a bit awkwardly and you stuff your mouth hurriedly. You can't think of a single thing to contribute to the conversation, only what excuse you're going to use to get out of the situation. Your next class isn't for another fifteen minutes at least, but you're finding you'd rather spend that time in some hallway than at this table where you aren't wanted.

Between bites you cast glances at Seungkwan, uncertain as to whether you want him to meet your gaze or not. You miss having him look at you, but even if he looks to you now you know it won't be the same. Somehow you're always feeling as awkward as you did at the airport that day. Since the moment you stepped back onto Korean soil, you feel as though you’ve been tripping over every obstacle life has given you in a struggle to catch up with everyone and everything you left behind for that semester. Especially Seungkwan.

It feels like you’ve been doing and saying the wrong things to him ever since you broke up, and distance made your heart grow fonder but it also made you two just different enough to not be able to talk normally now. You wonder, when you look at him, what’s causing the bags under his eyes to darken; what his day-to-day looks like now that you aren’t actively in it…

As you stuff the last bite of food in your mouth, your phone buzzes. You tear your eyes away from Seungkwan, turning it over to find a message of no significance — just a banner notification for an app. Nonetheless you find yourself pushing out your chair.

“Sorry guys, I have to get going now. Thanks for letting me sit with you.” Soonyoung and Seokmin seem startled to find you still there, having been so caught up in their own discussion. Seungkwan’s gaze flicks up to you, a slight frown curling the corners of his mouth.

“Sure thing, Y/N,” Soonyoung says, nodding his head.

“We’ll see you Friday?” Seokmin asks hopefully as you lift your tray off the table. You pause, glancing towards Seungkwan only for him to avert his gaze back to his food. Nervously, you chew on your bottom lip for a moment as you nod, thinking of the calendar event on your phone.

“Yeah,” you reply, softly. “See you Friday.” Unable to bear the awkwardness for a second longer, you turn on your heel and speed walk out of the cafeteria, not slowing down until you reach the building where your next class is.

For possibly the first and only time in your life, you almost wish Friday wouldn’t come at all.

January 24

For the rest of the week leading up to Seungkwan’s recital, you go back and forth on whether you’re actually going to attend. A part of you thinks that with alcohol came honesty, and he really wants you there — but there’s always that nagging feeling.

And then Seungcheol turns your own words on you the day of, when you’re at his apartment and talking to Jeonghan while he chooses an outfit about how you aren’t sure you should go. You want to, because you always want to hear Seungkwan sing, but you aren’t sure if it would be right. If you would be welcomed.

Seungcheol walks in, needing help buttoning the cuff of his shirt, and as you do so he looks down at you with a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, and you look up. “Remember that thing you said about overthinking leading to pain?”

“Yeah.” Seungcheol raises his eyebrows, looking at you pointedly, and you drop your hands into your lap once you’ve finished with the buttons. You avert your gaze, plucking at the fabric of your tights. “Point taken.”

“You should really talk to him about this, Y/N-ah,” Jeonghan says, meeting your gaze through the mirror. You press your lips together, biting at them nervously. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking back at his own reflection.

“Listen, you know I love you,” he continues. “But you can’t go on like this. And, frankly, I don’t know how to help you anymore.”

“I know…”

“He’ll hear you out,” Joshua suddenly chimes in, coming to lean on the doorframe. You frown and shift awkwardly where you’re perched on the edge of Jeonghan’s bed.

“I know,” you repeat, voice smaller. You can feel your throat closing up, chest tightening and eyes pricking with tears.

“Don’t cry,” Seungcheol says, and suddenly all three men are enveloping you in a hug, making it hard for you to even breathe.

“I love you guys,” you sniffle, “But I’m going to get makeup all over your shirts.” They back off at that.

“So, you’re coming with us?” Joshua asks, as Jeonghan reaches out to fix your hair. You nod.

“You’re right. I told him I’d go, and we do need to talk, so… yeah.”

You steal the passenger’s seat from Seungcheol so that you get to control the radio, and also because Jeonghan is your designated emotional security friend and even the backseat feels far enough to make you anxious. You’re pretty sure if you weren’t sitting beside him you’d ditch out the car and run back home, because Joshua wouldn’t be quick enough to stop you. For the whole ride you fiddle with the radio, switching the station almost ceaselessly even though the drive is less than twenty minutes. Nothing sounds good to you, everything little more than a constant buzz in your ears as your thoughts continue to run rampant.

“Y/N,” someone says. It sounds very far away. “Y/N.” The added forcefulness behind the voice finally gets you to snap out of it. The three men are standing outside the car, Seungcheol holding your door open and leaning towards you. All their brows are creased in worry, and you offer a smile which you hope is reassuring but feels shaky even to you.

“Ah,” you say, unbuckling yourself. “Thanks, Cheol.” Once you’re out of the car, however, you all simply stand together, awkwardly clumped by the front of the car. Seungcheol closes the door behind you, and while you look at the auditorium ahead your companions all look at you, still concerned. You take a deep breath in through your nose and blow it out slowly through your mouth. Lifting your chin, you nod.

“Let’s go.”

Your other friends have saved the rest of the front left row for all of you, and so you slip into the seat nearest the aisle you can get in case you have a spontaneous breakdown. The program lists Seungkwan’s solo as the second to last performance out of the dozen in the evening, with the final being a full choir piece. The only person closer to the aisle is Soonyoung, who flashes you a smile when you sit down.

“Y/N-ah!” He chirps, though attempting to keep his voice low in such a setting. “How have you been? We’ve barely talked you since you got back.” Hoshi’s grin slips into an exaggerated pout, and you let out an apologetic sigh.

“Sorry, Hoshi-ah,” you say, patting his arm. “I’ve… I’ve been better, and I’ve been worse, you know?” Soonyoung peers down at you sympathetically, placing his free hand atop yours and squeezing it in reassurance. You can tell from his gaze that he knows the true reason behind your inability to settle recently, why you’ve been out of the picture for your long-time group of friends.

“I know,” he replies, voice dropping low. His gaze also falls, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Of course he would know, given his proximity to the situation. You can’t help but wonder just what he’s been seeing, what’s been occurring, on the other side of the situation. You nearly open your mouth to ask just that, heart pounding against your ribs, but the dimming of the lights keeps you silent.

Your hand remains on Soonyoung’s arm until the end of the first song, when you finally relax enough to not need emotional support in the form of physical contact. Seungkwan appears in multiple performances, and you feel refreshed hearing his voice. It feels as though it’s been years since you heard him sing, and you only realize now how much you had taken it for granted in the past.

Seungkwan’s solo arrives quicker than you had thought, and it leaves you breathless. Even before your semester abroad he had been preparing endlessly, always worrying over every last detail of his performance. You’d bought him a throat soothing tea for his birthday, along with some organic cough drops. His practices had always sounded wonderful to you, but hearing it now, on-stage and polished, it’s possibly the best thing you’ve ever heard. It moves you to tears, though you hold yourself back from crying fully, not wanting to be disruptive to anyone else in the audience.

By the end of the concert you’ve eased yourself off the brink of tears, though only to find yourself overcome by another emotion entirely: anxiety. Your heartbeat is loud enough to nearly block out the raucous applause as you stand. Soonyoung pats you on the back before resuming his own round of applause.

All you can think of now that the recital is over is that you should have rehearsed something to say to Seungkwan. Seeing him on stage, practically shining in his brilliance, makes you all the more aware of what a wreck you seem to be. Your hands won’t stop shaking, your breathing shallow. As your friends swarm the edge of the stage, beckoning Seungkwan down into their arms, you find yourself falling back to the edges of the group, wringing your hands. The others are rowdy enough to make up for your absence while you try to arrange your thoughts.

Caught up in your thoughts, however, you don’t notice Seungkwan’s eyes on you. You don’t notice him approaching, your friends parting ways for him to get to you. Your eyes remain cast down as you turn slightly away, still lacing your fingers together nervously.

“Y/N.” His voice is soft, yet it cuts through the din without obstruction straight to you, piercing your heart like an arrow. As you turn to him it feels as though you’re the only two in the room, Seungkwan’s shining face your only company, the sole captor of your attention.

“Seungkwan,” you say. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t bring you any flowers. Slipped my mind.” You lick your lips nervously, casting your gaze downwards. Meeting Seungkwan’s eyes feels like a Herculean effort — at least, meeting them without crying.

“You were amazing,” you continue, more softly. “Not that anyone was doubting, of course.” At that you finally manage to smile at him, though it’s uncertain. You can’t contain your pride, even if your relationship isn’t the same as it once was; watching him grow in his talent and confidence has been one of the greatest gifts in your life, you’re certain.

“Thank you. That means a lot.” Seungkwan shifts his weight from one foot to another, “Can we talk?”

“S-sure.”

“Outside?” You can only manage to nod, feeling unable to speak. You follow him down the aisle and out the doors, coming to stand near him by the corner of the building. The sun has set, leaving only the yellowy glow of the streetlights to illuminate Seungkwan’s features, turning his eyes to a warmer, molten brown. For a long moment he just stares at you, seemingly soaking in your presence, and you find your cheeks warming beneath his gaze. When you look away, he finally clears his throat and begins speaking.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “Again. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” Your heart skips a beat when you realize that he does remember inviting you here. That he did it on purpose, not just on drunken impulse. The thought alone is enough to make your heart feel unbelievably warm.

“Of course,” you reply, unable to keep from smiling. “I’m really proud of you, you know?” At your statement Seungkwan, too, starts smiling. It’s a sight you hadn’t realized you missed so acutely, the way his eyes light up as he’s looking at you. Although the atmosphere is still awkward, it feels far more natural than your previous encounters since you’ve been back.

“Right,” Seungkwan seems to snap himself out of it, shaking his head slightly. He rocks back on his heels a bit, a nervous habit. “I, um, I wanted to tell you something. Just… I’m not sure what to say.”

“The Boo Seungkwan, at a loss for words? I’m shocked.” Your lighthearted comment is delivered without your usual confidence; you feel a bit lightheaded to be honest, overwhelmed by anticipation and your own desire to say something.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It’s going to sound really selfish of me—” Your heart drops, and you think it’s a miracle your knees don’t give out. Somehow, it feels like he’s about to break things off for a second time, except what is there to break off? Your barely-there friendship? You’re so caught up in your own thoughts you nearly miss the rest of his statement.

“—I want us to get back together.”

Only silence follows. Seungkwan is staring at you and you feel as though you’re staring through him. You can’t even be certain you’re breathing for a moment, and you wonder if you heard him right.

“What?” It’s a miracle he even hears you, given how quietly you speak. Hesitant, but obviously a bit concerned by your dazed appearance, he closes the gap between you with a step, taking your hands in his. It feels so natural, and yet both of you are staring at your hands as though they’re foreign objects.

“Having you here made me realize that I don’t want to share these momentswith anyone else,” he says, slowly, carefully. “The whole crowd is meaningless if you aren’t in it… I want to make you proud. I want to share my accomplishments with you…” You lift your gaze at the tell-tale waver of his voice, squinting in the dim light.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he warbles, and you slip your hands from his with a sympathetic chuckle, cupping his face in your hands. You brush away the tears with your thumbs, smiling wistfully at him.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask, still holding his face in your hands. You’re reluctant to let go, in case this is the last time you get to hold him like this. He nods, swallowing hard.

“I know it was my idea to break up,” he replies. “But I regret it. I’ve been regretting it. I thought maybe you did, too, but I didn’t want you to feel pressured…”

“You’ve never made me feel that way,” you murmur. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Seungkwan. If you want me by your side, I’ll always be there.”

You hardly have time to react when Seungkwan is suddenly kissing you, his hands reaching around your waist to pull you closer to him. You melt into his welcome embrace, quickly falling back into the familiarity of Seungkwan, winding your arms around his neck. It feels more like coming home than any plane ride ever could have — like you could have been anywhere at all and just being in Seungkwan’s arms would make it comfortable, familiar for you. He pulls away only to press his forehead against yours, cheeks burning bright red and lips curved into a broad smile.

“Finally.” Both you and Seungkwan startle, pulling away just enough to look towards the auditorium. All twelve of your friends are clustered around the base of the stairs; it appears to have been Minghao who had spoken. Before either of you can reply, he turns his sharp gaze to Soonyoung, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Looks like you’re paying for dinner tonight.” At his words, Soonyoung looks exaggeratedly dismayed, whining to him in annoyance. Everyone else, however, comes to crowd around the two of you. Jeonghan drapes an arm around each of you, grinning cheekily.

“No more hasty breakups then, right kids?”

“Yah, why are you bringing that up now?” Seungkwan complains, shrugging Jeonghan off both of you. He takes your hand as he continues to bicker with Jeonghan, who smiles serenely all the while as your massive group begins walking to the nearest barbecue restaurant. As you glance down at your hand in Seungkwan’s where they gently swing as you walk, listening to the familiar banter of your boyfriend and best friend against the background of all your other friends around you on the sidewalk, you can’t keep the smile off your face.

After weeks, you finally feel like you’ve come home.

#seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen texts #seungkwan scenarios #Seungkwan texts #kpop fanfiction #kpop reactions #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop texts #my writing

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 3 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| chapter 1 2

A/N: hi! I hope you like this new chapter as it goes deeper on the feels™️ I really wanted to give the characters more background (and a little bit of angst whoops) and finally, there are new names dropping yay! Again, there’s a time skip of two years this time. Enjoy & thanks for reading <3

-3-

When Priyanka turned fifteen, she discovered new things she loved. She loved dying the tips of her hair with bright colors every two weeks and a half, she loved skateboarding, she loved being the center of attention and a little bit of a class-clown at school, she loved hanging out with her group of friends, she loved the phone calls with Lemon to catch up and talk shit about everyone…

“Okay, can you hear me now?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s better.”

Priyanka peeped through the hallway hoping no one would decide to interrupt them. She nervously removed the shiny red nail polish with her teeth as they tried to re-connect, if her mother saw her she would’ve scolded her on the spot. The landline phone was solid red plastic with buttons and wires, it was age-worn but at least it wasn’t like her grandparent’s phone with the rotary dial system or it would take hours to get all those area code numbers correct and get Lemon on the other side.

“Thank God. I’m literally inside the closet just like in The Parent Trap. I told my mom I was calling my grandma because last time our phone bill had several zeroes.”

Priyanka chortled and entangled the curly wire with his fingertips. “Sorry about that… so, you were saying… about the audition?”

“Oh, right! I’m trying to get into this dance academy that’s supposed to be the best of the best and the audition waiting list is a nightmare… but they called me the other day and said I’ll have shot in two weeks.”

“Oh. My. God. Lemon that’s awesome!”

“I know! I feel it, Pri. I know I can do it but… I don’t want to assume anything until I get there. I’m confident in my skills but what if they perceive that confidence as cockiness or something like that. I was talking to Jan the other day and she said-”

“Wait, who’s Jan?” Priyanka frowned before the unfamiliar name.

“Jan. Jan! My friend Jan? We have Biology and Math together, remember?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard her name before.”

“I’m sure I have mentioned her… anyway. Jan is madly talented –like, she can sing- and she auditioned for music school like a year ago and told me that…”

Jan. She hadn’t mentioned a Jan before… it was weird for Priyanka that knew all Lemon’s New Yorker friends’ names and she was pretty sure Lemon remembered all her friends’ names as well.

“… anyway, I’ll keep my head high and hope for the best. I’m training extra hard these days to make it. My muscles are sore and I can’t feel my legs right now but hey, no pain no gain.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thank you.” She paused as if she wanted to say something else, Priyanka could hear her breathing, but then she continued chattering. “Also, my mom got promoted again and now she bought a computer I can e-mail you the day of the audition. But tell me, how are things over there? Did the girls work their differences yet?”

“You know Scarlett, she won’t shut up and-”

“Priyanka, it’s dinner time.” Her mother announced from the kitchen.

She sighed. “Shit. I have to go or my mom is going to cut the phone wires. She says this time is for real.”

“Oh, okay… I’ll call you soon then.”

“Yes, please call me right after the audition or before if you wanna talk… you know. Break a leg or whatever… make sure is figuratively speaking, please.”

She heard Lemon’s giggle on the other line and something inside her went softer.

“I will… and I will be there for Christmas this year, I made my mom promise it.”

“Fingers crossed.” She said before hanging up.

When she looked at herself in the mirror she had a silly grin on her face that couldn’t be erased.

Lemon hadn’t been back in a long year and a half. After spending the first holidays after her parents’ divorce with her dad in Canada, she had to spend the next one with her mom in the Big Apple. Plus, her father got to travel to New York quite often those days and got to see her a lot. She sometimes sent things for Priyanka with him, a nice hoodie, a makeup bag, one of those stupid tourist t-shirts with the Statue of Liberty printed on it, sometimes a pair of dangling earrings or a simple letter and a picture of her. She treasured each of those little trinkets.

Priyanka was saving money from her allowance and was hoping to get a job soon so she could buy a car someday and visit her friend in the big city, they might even go on a road trip over the summer, it was a nice thought to hold onto until they could hang out again.

On the day of Lemon’s audition, Priyanka was restless. She got kicked out of one of her classes because she kept fidgeting, twitching, moving around, and chewing gum. It drove her teachers insane. Scarlett and Kiara mocked her from the window of the classroom and then got a warning as well.

Later that day she cleaned all her room to avoid thinking. She found several pictures of her and Lemon over the years –including that one time they tried Lemon’s mom makeup for the first time, Lemon was missing her two front teeth-, there were some photos from their first days of school and even Lemon at Priyanka’s plays. She was so pissed when she got that old lady role instead of the main character but she had managed to steal the scene anyway.

As the sun was setting, she didn’t know what else to do. She did the dishes without offering resistance and then got into an argument with her little sister who wanted to watch Hannah Montana while Priyanka just wanted to watch the new episode of America’s Next Top Model. She had to admit it though, the intro of Hannah Montana was kind of catchy (something she would never admit to her sister).

It was almost quarter to nine and she still didn’t have any news. There was a two-hour time difference with New York but still… it was gnawing her from the inside.

Right when Tyra was about to reveal which model got to stay for another week, the phone rang in the hallway and she couldn’t jump out of the couch fast enough.

«You have a phone call from-» Press one to accept, yeah, yeah, she knew that.

“Lemon?” She didn’t even wait for a «hello».

“Pri? Is it you?”

The sound of her voice brought her back to life, she could hear the sound of her heart beating again.

“Yes, it’s me! How did it go?”

“Oh my God, Pri… I’m calling you from a payphone in the middle of Times Square, this is insane. The girls lend me some cash to call you.” Priyanka could hear the sound of the traffic and even some giggles coming from outside of the phone.

“And? You’re killing me here, Lemz.” She had her fingers crossed even when she couldn’t see that gesture through the call and was holding the phone against her ear with her shoulder.

“It was so difficult I thought I was never going to learn the steps I’m literally so exhausted right now but…”

But.

“I got it, I got the spot!”

Priyanka started screaming.

“Priyanka!” Her mother shouted.

“Sorry…sorry!” She covered her mouth with her hand.

Lemon was cackling.

“Lemz, I might get in so much trouble for this but… Congratulations, I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you.” She sounded truly happy, Priyanka wished she could see her right at that moment. “Jan, can you give me another quarter? Thanks, doll.”

That girl Jan again.

“So what are you girls are up to?”

“We’re going to get some pizza to celebrate. Jan is here as you heard, so are Goona, Rosé, Jackie… They say hi.”

“Tell them I said hi too.”

“She says hi… No, I’m not telling that, shut up…”

“What is it?”

“They are being assholes as usual… Listen, I have to go, I’m running out of coins and I still have to call my mom.”

“Okay, we’ll talk soon… I’m so happy for you… Love you.”

“Love you too! See you in a few weeks.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait.”

“Bye, Pri.”

She hung up but stood next to the phone for a moment, staring at it.

Just a few more weeks.

Priyanka kept begging her older brother to teach her how to drive. It took a few weeks of insistence until he gave up and the lessons started. They only stopped when the snow got too thick and the roads too slippery to practice. Still, by that time Priyanka was almost an expert. She needed to perfect her parking skills before turning sixteen and that would be it.

She also needed a car but that was the least important part.

“So when’s your girlfriend coming to town?” Scarlett asked.

Priyanka choked on her hot chocolate and coughed a couple of times. “Lemon’s not my girlfriend.”

Kiara rolled her eyes.

“Ah, yes, I can’t wait to finally meet her!” Juice –the latest addition to their group- said.

They were at the coffee shop, outside was freezing cold and the smell of fresh-baked pastries had dragged them inside the warm environment. Scarlett was having a black coffee while Priyanka and Kiara had their respective hot chocolate with marshmallows and Juice ordered a cappuccino with whipped cream and sprinkles on top.

“So?” Scarlett arched a brow.

“Her flight is booked for next week if the snowstorms allow them to fly.”

“I remember you two from primary school; they were joined by the hip, even before you shared diapers or something.” Kiara mocked.

“Oh, that’s right. You were in her classroom in kindergarten back when Ilona prevented everyone from playing with her.”

“That’s because Lemon spilled some paint over Ilona’s drawing… it was kids’ things. We all forgot when some random kid wet his pants or whatever.”

“And when did the crush began?”

Priyanka shot daggers at Scarlett with her eyes.

“I don’t have a crush on her. She’s literally my best friend, you guys are delusional.”

“Sure…” Kiara stirred her chocolate. “But it’s been what? Almost two years since she graced us with her presence?”

“Yeah, her parents didn’t want her to travel alone last time so her father flew to New York.”

“All jokes aside,” Scarlett changed her irksome ‘let’s pick on Priyanka’ tone for a minute. “Are you going to tell her about…?”

At the age of fifteen, Priyanka discovered she didn’t like kissing boys.

It had been at a lame party in a basement, her classmates had invited her and one of them suggested they should play seven minutes in heaven. Priyanka was about to skip it and refill her paper cup with cheap vodka and orange juice when she got dragged by the wrist and pushed into the closet with a guy from the hockey team. She suspected he had a crush on her for the longest time and this was instigated by his friends but the moment the door was locked, she panicked.

Her friends tried to get her out of there but there were a few underdeveloped brains and much muscle blocking the door. So she guessed she was doing it. The guy wasn’t that bad –she liked to believe- he told her they didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to and he was what most girls of the classroom referred to as «handsome». Priyanka shouted she was okay to calm down her friends and figured the best she could do was getting over it once and for all.

It was her first kiss.

The guy had rough lips and a slippery tongue and it was in the middle of all that smooching when his hand went under her lower back that she knew, she wasn’t enjoying it at all. She pushed the guy aside and used the back of her hand to clean her lips, she’d need some mouthwash as well. He asked if everything was okay but she was too condescending and told him that she was feeling dizzy.

The door was unlocked when he asked his friends to do it. Priyanka walked back –ashamed-to her group of friends as Kiara told them they were all disgusting and how stupid the game was. Priyanka called her brother from a phone upstairs and left soon after. For the first time, she was quiet on the way back home.

Later that night when she was laying on her bed in the darkness, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, thinking about how she was supposed to feel kissing that guy -any guy- or thinking about the fact that she wasn’t even remotely attracted to boys but mostly, thinking how she so wished that guy was someone else, how she wished that guy was a girl.

The following week at school the not-so-nice-guy had told everyone that Priyanka was basically a slut and if it wasn’t because she was so wasted, they could’ve gone to third base in that closet that very night. Priyanka wasn’t ashamed anymore, she was angry. Very angry. During lunch, she walked directly towards him and exposed him in front of everyone, not only denying the absurdity of those rumors but also stating that she would never even consider touching his small dick.

After that, Priyanka was done with guys, boys, and men in general.

She had a heart-to-heart conversation with her friends afterward but –to no one’s surprise- she ended up with the least heterosexual and most supportive group of friends in the world.

Still… she hadn’t been able to tell Lemon yet. She had tried but there was something about phone calls that didn’t help at all, she wanted to tell her in person, she wanted to see her face and know that everything was okay. And she planned to do it during her visit.

“I’ll try.” Priyanka stated, hoping the universe cooperated with her.

“Good. So you can make out under the mistletoe next.” There she was again.

“Okay, you two,” She pointed at Scarlett and Kiara. “you have to stop it or I’m going to do you guys dirty and you know I can.”

They started laughing, clearly taking Priyanka’s threaten lightly.

“That’s it! You,” She directed toward Kiara. “I have seen you drooling over Kyne the entire semester.”

Kiara went pale.

“And you two…” She turned back to Scarlett and Juice that were cackling sitting on the couch. “Yes, I’m talking to you, do you really believe I haven’t seen the way you look at each other, those stolen glances, the subtle touches? Please, is this a Jane Austen novel or what? You ain’t that smooth.”

“Hey! I didn’t say anything!” Juice protested.

Scarlett’s mouth turned into a thin line and her ears were suddenly pink colored. She murmured something Priyanka couldn’t catch but rhymed with «witch».

“Sorry girl, I warned you heads would roll and I’m not leaving any survivors if that’s what it takes.”

Scarlett put her hands up as a sign of surrender. “I respect it, you’re a bitch but I respect it.”

So that was the word she used.

Lemon would arrive at any minute now.

Her father was picking her up from the airport, they would have lunch at some fancy restaurant in the city center and then he’d drop Lemon at Priyanka’s house until sunset –that was when she had to leave again to have dinner with her relatives.

Priyanka kept moving her right leg, restless while sitting on the couch, eyes nailed on the window.

“Priyanka, take the trash out, it’s your turn.” Her mother told her casually as she directed upstairs.

“Mom!” She complained. “I’m doing important things.”

“You’re sitting on the couch.”

“My point exactly.”

Her mom gave her the glare. “Trash. Out. Now.”

She grumbled but did as asked.

Priyanka put on an extra thick coat over her jeans and knitted orange sweater, adjusted her wool socks and boots, and adventured to the exterior world of the Canadian winter wonderland. She only had to walk a few steps but she could feel her body freezing with the icy breeze. The snow was blinding white and she could hear the whistle of the wind blowing and the sound of her own teeth chattering.

She didn’t even hear the sound of the car stopping right at the entrance of her house nor the door closing or the steps.

She barely had time to turn around when an identified running person hit her like an asteroid. Lemon was small but she still got the strength to tackle Priyanka down with a hug. She didn’t even notice whether the snow was cold or not.

“Hey!” She was still down on the ground and needed to turn around once Lemon moved. “You’re here…”

The vision was dazzling. Lemon’s face, her eyes, her smile from ear to ear with full teeth showing, her blonde hair falling like a cascade over her rosy cheeks. It was as if she had been taken from an Andersen fairytale or a Tchaikovsky composition, ice queens and fairies fluttered around Priyanka’s head.

“I’m here! Can you believe it?”

She was still pretty much straddled on Priyanka, making the brunette blush and hoping she could blame it on the weather. Finally, Lemon got to stand up and helped her friend to get on her feet again.

Lemon was irretrievably tiny but there was something different about her since the last time they had seen each other. She looked less like the little girl Priyanka remembered and more like a teen pop star of the magazines they used to read with her slightly curled lighter hair, pink glossy lips, longer lashes… She was wearing a yellow sweater and a white puffy jacket with matching fake fur around the neck, corduroy pants, and cream boots. Even her glasses were stylish now.

“Wait, are you taller?” She observed.

“No, you just shrunk in the washing machine.”

Lemon elbowed her and then turned to wave at her dad that was still in the car.

“He told me he saw you in the supermarket the other day and asked what does your mom feed you with so I could get some too.”

Priyanka laughed at loud. “He got you there.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“But enough with my height, let’s go inside, I think I got snow on my socks and I don’t want to catch a cold or wait until another short person attacks me.”

“Hey, you said enough with the height.”

“No, no. I clearly said mine, not yours.”

Lemon rolled her eyes and there it was the old Lemon she knew so well, the exact dose just a little less sugary and a bit sour.

They went to Priyanka’s room, she shared it with her middle sister but she was currently busy practicing at music school with her cello for her end of the year concert, there were a few trophies, certificates, and distinctions on her side of the room meanwhile Priyanka’s was a collage of pictures with the girls, an album cover Avril Lavigne, one large poster she got from the local cinema when Spice World was brought back for a special feature and she forced her friends to watch it for the millionth time, some random doodles she did in class and of course, photos and postcards Lemon had sent to her.

The blonde smiled when she spotted a picture of them from their first day of primary school, their backpacks were bigger than them.

They removed the heavy coats, Priyanka changed her wet socks for new ones and a pair of slippers. Lemon was prying into the mess that was her desk, her fingers roaming through her school books, comic books, magazines, and scattered papers as if she tried to figure out if she still knew the owner of that space in the way she used to.

They sat on Priyanka’s bed on the nothing-like-Priyanka flowery blanket one of her aunts got her for a birthday. Priyanka’s mom dropped by to say hi and left a tray with two smoky cups of tea.

“I love your mom, she read my mind.” Lemon said, wrapping her hands around the warm porcelain.

“She’s being nice only because you’re around.” Priyanka took a sip of her tea. “I wonder if it’s a good time to tell her that I broke one of her flowerpots when I was practicing with the skateboard.”

“You’re the worst.” Lemon giggled.

“Certified. Three years in a row.”

The blonde shook her head. “Does she still make that incredible curry with potatoes?”

“Yeah, once in a while.”

“Oh my God… I tell you I’ve dreamt about it. You know I love Christina to dead but she can’t cook at all.”

Lemon, at some point after the divorce, had stopped addressing her mother as “mom” and now she called her by her first name.

“Do you remember she always made dinner with dry spaghetti and can sauce?”

“You laugh all you want but that’s my comfort food till this day.” Priyanka defended her.

“She doesn’t even cook it anymore, now we buy it all pre-cooked or already cooked. She might even forget how to boil water. Anyway, we’ve tried a thousand restaurants but I swear to you, Pri, no one can cook like your mom.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve missed one of us.”

Lemon threw a pillow at her face.

“Of course I’ve missed you, dumbass.”

They did each other’s nails, Priyanka ended up with a light blue shade Lemon had brought for her and it was allegedly the same color as Tiffany’s, and the blonde insisted she had to draw a white ribbon to make it look like the jewel’s teeny tiny boxes.

From there, Priyanka could see everything. Lemon frowning, concentrated on her task, the way she batted her lashes, her pretty eyes, the little freckles she had over her nose, the shape of her cupid bow turned into an unintentional pout… her lips.

Priyanka gulped and then Lemon caught her staring.

“What is it?” She looked for some hint in Priyanka’s face. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No… I’m just making sure you don’t fuck up the design.”

Lemon rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. I’m almost done.”

While Priyanka’s nails got dried, they talked about school, classes they liked and disliked, teachers that they loathed or loved, then about their plans after turning sixteen, Priyanka told her about the driving lessons and Lemon told her she wanted to dress up as Cher Horowitz –of course- for her birthday and by the time Priyanka started with Lemon’s nails, she was reviving her dance audition.

“I tell you, Pri, there was a moment I doubt I’d got in. It was a flash but I felt it in my stomach I thought I was going to puke and mess everything up.”

“Hey, but you didn’t. I’m sure you nailed it.”

The blonde sighed. “Still, New York is like… everything’s so fast and everyone’s competitive to the point where you can’t get distracted or someone else will go after what you have. It’s nice to be here for a change, this is the only place I can really relax. It sucks that I can only stay for a week and five of those seven days I have to visit my dad’s relatives out of town.” She met Priyanka’s eyes. “I wish I could get to spend more time with you, you know?”

Priyanka’s heart skipped a beat. At that moment what she suspected but didn’t dare to say at loud became a reality, all those corny songs from the 90’s suddenly made sense, all the movies Hollywood had sold labeled as «romance» acquired a new meaning and she finally understood what «to have butterflies in one’s stomach» really felt like.

She liked Lemon. She liked her best friend…. And she liked her a lot.

That was the reason she hadn’t been able to tell her about what happened earlier that year at the party because it wasn’t just that she wanted to kiss a girl instead of a guy, she wanted to kiss one particular girl and she was right in front of her at that very moment.

They never warned her about it, they never told her that she would live normally until the day she’d realize she could harbor such feeling inside, that one day she’d just… know.

She almost dropped the nail polish bottle over the blanket.

“Oh, careful.” Lemon grabbed it just in time. She looked at her friend with concern in her eyes. “Pri, are you okay? You look… pale.”

“What? Ah, yeah… it’s nothing. I’m recovering from a cold I caught, that’s it…” She shook her head and took a breath of air. “I’m sorry, you were saying…”

“About the dance academy,” Lemon resumed her story. “the girls think I can make it through the next three years, and then I can major in dancing, I might even get a scholarship if I do outstandingly well.”

There was something, a little detail there that wasn’t… right.

“I hope you can visit me soon, you gotta meet the girls; you’re going to love them. Rosé and Jan are also Geminis, I guess that’s why I get along with them so well. Luckily, Jan would be my roommate if she gets her scholarship as well and…”

“Roommate?” Priyanka asked.

“Yeah… for college? We’re thinking about moving in together because rents are expensive even for the smallest studio apartment advertised. It’s a nightmare.”

“But wait… what happened with the plan? Our plan?”

Lemon opened her mouth to reply and then shut it.

“You forgot about it…”

“No! You know I didn’t… but… my options are wider now, I have to think forward and… did you seriously think-?”

“Yes. I did.” Priyanka didn’t even let her finish speaking.

Her soul had been just crushed.

“Pri, that’s not what I mean. We made that promise when we were ten, things have… changed since then.”

“Maybe they have changed for you but I’m still stuck here, I’m still counting on our plans… our promises. I’m still counting on you. The only thing that has changed is you and your pompous New Yorker glamorous lifestyle.”

“Oh, so it was so easy for me, right? It’s not like I had to attend a school where I didn’t know anyone, being the new girl and sitting alone during lunchtime for months while going through my parents’ divorce… I hated it the first months, Priyanka, I really did and I swear that talking to you on the phone and dancing were the only things that kept me alive…” Her voice cracked. “It wasn’t until I met my friends that I felt like I could do it… that it wasn’t completely waste of time and that I wasn’t a totally useless person.”

“Lemon… you never said-”

There was a single sparkly tear falling down her cheek.

“Well, I hope you’re happy now. There you have it, my life isn’t a glamorous as you thought, is it?”

“It’s because that’s what you’ve told me! Maybe if you didn’t sugarcoat things I could’ve helped you…”

“And do what? And then what? You’d get tired of me with all those problems and we’d eventually drift apart. I’d become a burden for you.”

“What? Where did you get that from? Let me be your friend, that’s what friends do… they help each other during the rough times too, they tell each other things.”

“Oh, and you surely have told me everything that’s being going on here.”

Priyanka remained silent.

“I still talk with some people from school here and there… why didn’t you tell me about what happened at that party?”

“Lemon, that’s completely different…”

“Is it? Because from my perspective, it looks like we’re hiding things from each other now.”

“And breaking promises as well for what it seems.”

Lemon looked at her, she seemed hurt and it broke Priyanka’s heart to see her like that.

She wanted to reach her and hold her hand, hug her and tell her that everything was alright but at the same time, she was angry. She couldn’t have it both ways. It wasn’t fair.

Priyanka’s mother called them from downstairs; Lemon’s father was there to pick her up.

“I better go.” She grabbed her coat. “I’ll be back in five days if you want… whatever.”

She was gone before Priyanka could say something and frankly, she felt that if she opened her mouth it was going to get worse. It wasn’t until the girl left the house and she heard the car getting lost in the distance that she collapsed on her bed and started crying on the closest pillow she had.

Five days after, it was a New Year already but little had changed since they last met.

Lemon visited Priyanka’s house only to discover she wasn’t there.

“Could you please tell her I came to say goodbye?” She bit her inner cheek to contain a sob.

She had a flight to take back to New York.

Priyanka had taken the family’s car without permission and she had driven for a few hours, making sure there was no chance of their paths crossing. It was petty; she knew she was being childish avoiding her rather than talk things through and she was going to regret it and hate herself later, damn, she was going to get grounded for months but who cared? At that moment, the only thing that was on her mind was that she couldn’t see Lemon.

Not like that.

She did her wrong but she was partly right. Priyanka wasn’t being honest with her and she couldn’t tell her all the truth to restore their friendship.

She couldn’t tell her that she was gay and that she was in love with her because it would change it all.

It would destroy their friendship entirely.

Lemon would never reciprocate those stupid feelings of her.

Maybe if she put enough distance between them, those feelings would simply fade, go away, and right now, New York sounded distant enough.

If it was on her to do the hardest part for the sake of all the years they’ve been together, then she was going to do whatever it’d take.

Tears scorched her eyes.

At the age of fifteen, Priyanka loved her best friend Lemon but she also hated her.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #can1 #priyanka #lemon #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #timeskips #angst #long-distance friendship #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

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cantpickonefandoms · 4 years ago

Text

Gwen, It’s Cold Outside

It was a quiet, peaceful, afternoon on a Saturday in December. It was a chilly, windy, grey day, the perfect sort of day to stay inside watching movies for the entirety of the day. That was exactly what two teenagers had decided to spend their day doing, the boy and girl were currently seated on a couch with a bowl of popcorn being shared between them, and a Christmas movie playing on the TV in front of them. The boy, who had jet-black messy hair, and bright emerald-green eyes, spoke up. "I still say this is a Halloween only movie." His gothic companion rolled her eyes at his comment. "That's because you're closed-minded, Trent." "I am not!" Trent protested. "I've just always watched Nightmare Before Christmas around Halloween, never around Christmas." The Goth smirked at him. "Well, you can enjoy watching Nightmare Before Christmas once a year, while I get to watch it twice a year." Trent snorted. "Please, you and I both know you watch this movie way more than twice a year, Gwen." Gwen didn't look at all ashamed at the comment, in fact, her smirk widened. "Well, of course I do. It's the best Disney movie." "Mmm, yeah, no. Aladdin is way better." "That is complete and utter bullshit!"

Trent just grinned and shook his head, he turned his head, deciding to turn his attention back to the movie rather than continuing to bicker with Gwen. He smiled as he watched Jack sing his way through Christmas Town, even though Trent certainly didn't love the movie as much as Gwen did, he still did really like the movie. In particular, Trent loved the music, but he did also love the animation and the story, plus he found he had a lot of sympathy for Sally, having feelings towards someone who didn't reciprocate those feelings? Trent could relate. With that thought in mind, Trent's eyes flicked back to the Goth sitting next to him. Trent had known Gwen for nearly three years now, since they met in grade nine, he was one of the few people who succeeded in getting close to the Goth, and Trent was forever grateful that Gwen had allowed him to get past her walls. Trent couldn't pinpoint when his feelings towards Gwen had gone from being friendly to being a crush, just that at some point Trent had become very aware of how much he blushed around Gwen, and how often he stared at her when Gwen wasn't looking. As if on cue, Gwen suddenly turned her head to Trent, and Trent immediately snapped his head forward, praying that Gwen wouldn't comment on his staring, he could feel the heat rising on his cheeks, how did he almost always end up in this situation around Gwen? Thankfully, Gwen didn't say anything, and Trent kept his eyes focused on Nightmare Before Christmas for the rest of the movie, he had no intention of ruining his friendship with Gwen by creeping her out with his staring.

The final scene of Jack and Sally kissing faded out and the credits appeared on the screen. Trent sat up and grabbed the remote off the table and pressed stop. Gwen sat up as well and stretched her arms. "Well, that was fun." Gwen said as she stood up, picked her phone up, and looked at it. "7:00, I'd better get going." Trent stood up too. "Alright, I'll walk you to the door." Trent offered. Gwen nodded, and the two made their way towards Trent's front entrance. As they were walking Trent took a look out the living room window, and his eyes widened at what he saw. "Oh crap." Gwen overheard Trent and came back to him. "What?" Trent pointed a finger towards the window. "That." Gwen turned her head towards the window and her eyes widened as well. "Oh, come on! I have to drive home in that?" Gwen complained. While Gwen and Trent had been watching their movies, it had started to snow a lot, and as they were looking out the window, there was already a good twenty centimeters of snow on the ground! "Freaking Canada." Gwen grumbled under her breath. "Well, I'd better get going before the snow gets any worse." Gwen said, as she made her way towards Trent's front door.

"Er, hold on Gwen." Trent said, as he looked back out the window. It didn't look like the snow would be stopping any time soon, and Trent could barely see beyond the thick snowflakes coming down outside. Trent turned to look at Gwen. "Are you sure you should drive in these conditions?" Trent asked her carefully, he knew had to be very careful about how he worded this to Gwen, one wrong word and he knew Gwen would be getting very defensive about how she could take care of herself. Trent watched as Gwen's eyebrows furrowed. "Not that I think you're an incompetent driver or anything. It's just that it looks pretty bad out there, maybe it would be better if you stayed here, it might stop snowing sometime later tonight." Trent said quickly. "Or it could keep snowing until tomorrow. This is my best chance to get home tonight, Trent. I appreciate your concern but-" Gwen suddenly got interrupted by a buzzing sound, Gwen took her phone out of her skirt pocket and looked at the screen. "Oh, it's my mom." Gwen said as she slid her finger across the screen and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?... Hi mom... Mmm hmm... Yes, we did notice the snow... What?... Oh... Ok, well I guess I'll see you later, maybe... Love you too, bye." Gwen tapped the button on her phone and put it back in her pocket. "What happened?" Trent asked. "Looks like you're getting your wish Trent. I can't leave, the city closed the roads." Trent's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh! Do they know for how long?" Gwen shrugged. "Nope, it's for an undetermined amount of time." "Well then I guess it's the two of us for the next little while, since my parents won't be back from their business trip until tomorrow." Gwen nodded. "Ok." "So, how does some dinner sound?"

The pair sat talking and eating, they were enjoying themselves as they waited out the snowstorm. Trent took his and Gwen's plates and brought them to the dishwasher, then he turned to Gwen. "So, what do you want to-" Trent suddenly stopped talking as all the lights in the kitchen suddenly all blinked on, then off, then on again. Gwen looked at the lights cautiously. "Ok... That was weird." Gwen said. "Yeah..." Trent said, as he too eyes the lights carefully. "Hopefully that was it, and the lights won't shut off-" The lights shut off again, and this time they didn't turn back on. "Well, that's not good." Trent muttered. "Yeah, no shit." A moment later Trent could make out the light coming from the flashlight on Gwen's phone, Trent followed Gwen's example and did the same with his phone. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say the snowstorm caused this blackout." Gwen said. "That's the most likely scenario." Trent agreed. "And seeing as I don't think the snow is going to be stopping any time soon, I'm also guessing we're not going to be getting the electricity back for a while." Gwen added. "Probably." Trent said. "And I think it's safe to say that I'm probably going to be crashing here tonight." Trent nodded. "Which means you and I need to figure some things out. Like how we're going to stay warm." Trent's eyes widened. "Oh crap, you're right, no electricity means no heat." "Don't panic, Trent. All things considered, this situation could be way worse, we already ate so we don't need to worry about food, I think the only main concern right now is staying warm." "I'm not panicking." Trent said honestly. "I guess I just suddenly became aware of what sort of situation we're in right now." "Well, come on, lets focus on getting a few things prepared, shall we?"

After doing a search for flashlights, candles, and matches ("In case our phones die." Gwen had said.), Trent grabbed some of the thickest blankets he could find, and gave some to Gwen so she could get set up in the guest bedroom, while Trent brought his own blankets to his room. By the time they were both situated in their rooms it was already 10:00 and no electricity meant they couldn't watch movies, no electricity also meant no Wi-Fi, so Trent's laptop wasn't an option either, and neither of them really wanted to use their phones because their phones were their main light source and the only way they could currently communicate with their family ("This is really making me realize exactly how much we rely on electricity." Trent commented). With all that in mind Gwen and Trent agreed there wasn't much left to do other than try and get some sleep. After bidding Gwen goodnight, Trent headed to his room, changed into his pajamas, and got into bed. Trent laid awake, he wasn't afraid of the dark, but there was something Trent found eerie about the darkness in his room, maybe it was because it was pitch black in his room, usually he could see the light from the streetlight coming through his bedroom window, but tonight there was nothing but darkness. At least he wasn't cold, Trent had always been fairly resistant towards being cold, the cold didn't bother him all that much.

Trent continued to toss and turn, for some reason he just couldn't sleep. This went on for some time, until Trent suddenly heard a tapping noise. Trent sat up, looking towards his bedroom door, and this time he heard it for sure: A soft tapping on his bedroom. Was Gwen still awake? "Gwen?" "Can I come in?" Gwen was speaking very softly, and Trent wasn't quite sure why, they were the only ones in the house after all. "Sure." A moment later Gwen came into his room with a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "Couldn't sleep?" Gwen shook her head, she made her way over to Trent and sat at the end of Trent's bed. Trent observed Gwen's silhouette, there was some odd going on with her, Gwen wasn't looking at him, she was looking at her feet. "What's wrong, Gwen?" Trent asked. "I'm cold." Gwen said. Trent blinked on confusion for a moment, he couldn't understand how Gwen could be possibly be cold, with the mountain of blankets he had given her, but then Trent remembered something: Gwen was incredibly sensitive to the cold, she often said that she wished that she had Trent's ability to resist the cold. "Ok, do you want more blankets?" Gwen shook her head; she still wasn't looking at Trent. "I was thinking of another way we could both stay warm, actually." Gwen said quietly. "Ok..." Why was Gwen acting so strange? "I thinking... Maybe we could use... Body heat?" Trent blinked a few times, he was attempting to process what exactly Gwen was suggesting, then it finally clicked on why Gwen was acting so odd, Gwen was shy. Trent knew Gwen very well, and she was a lot of things: Sarcastic, tough, and blunt were words that came to mind, but shy? That was a new one, but Trent understood why, a boy and a girl who were friends sharing a bed was definitely a little awkward, thought Trent thought it might be little more awkward for him than it would be for Gwen, considering his feelings for her were more than friendly.

"Er, well- I mean-" Trent stuttered, he could feel his face heating up, he was suddenly very glad his room was pitch black. "Only if- If you're comfortable with it." "Would I be suggesting it if I wasn't comfortable with it?" "Well- I guess not, but-" "Trent, look at me." Trent looked up, and he was surprised to find Gwen looking back at him, he could just make out the twin glints coming from Gwen's eyes. "We've been friends for a while now, haven't we?" Trent blinked. "Yeah." Where was Gwen going with this? "And we're pretty close, right?" "Yes." "Then I think it would take a lot more than sharing a bed so we don't freeze to make things awkward between us, don't you?" Trent paused; Gwen's logic was pretty sound. Trent just hoped he would survive sleeping next to his crush. "Yeah, you're right." Trent could sense Gwen's trademark sly smirk spreading across her face. "I usually am." Trent chuckled at that, and with that, Trent screwed up his courage, shifted to the left side of his bed, and lifted his covers so Gwen could get in. A moment later Trent was lying face to face with Gwen, being this close to Gwen's face, Trent could make out her facial features in the dark, her snow-white skin, her charcoal-coloured eyes that Trent could spend forever staring at, her pointy nose, and her lips. God who knows how many times Trent had imagined kissing her, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers, he had often wondered what her lips would feel like pressed against his, he highly doubted it would ever happen though, he was positive Gwen only thought of him as a friend and- What was he doing? Trent suddenly came out of his fantasy and suddenly became very aware of what he was doing, he, in real time, had actually been leaning into Gwen's face. Trent quickly laid his head back on the pillow, and then looked at Gwen, she was still awake.

Crapcrapcrapcrap CRAP Trent felt like his face was going to burst into flames. "...Trent?" This was it; Gwen was going to demand to know what the hell he was doing, there was not getting out of this. "Are you ok?" Oh, apparently not. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine." Trent said quickly. "Ok..." It didn't sound like Gwen believed him, Trent didn't blame her, he knew he didn't sound very convincing. Trent yawned. "I think we should go to sleep now." Trent said. "I guess so..." "Ok, goodnight." Trent said quickly, then he threw his arm around Gwen and shut his eyes, then he became aware the he had out his arm around Gwen's waist. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Trent quickly lifted his arm off of Gwen, he could feel his face heating up even more. "Sorry." Trent said. "It's ok, I didn't mind." Had Trent heard that correctly? "You could do it again, if you want to." Trent could not believe what he was hearing, as if his face wasn't on fire as it was, what was Gwen trying to do? Make him combust? "O-Ok." Trent put his arm back around Gwen, and slowly pulled her towards him until Gwen's body was pressed against his. Trent silently marveled at how Gwen's body fit perfectly against his, like a puzzle piece. "You're pretty tense, Trent." Gwen commented quietly. "Oh, sorry." "You can relax, Trent, it's just me." But she wasn't 'just Gwen' not to him, she meant so much to him, and ruining things between them terrified him. Not that he was going to tell Gwen that, so Trent shifted a bit and allowed himself to relax, allowing himself to enjoy this moment of having Gwen right next to him. With that, Trent, and Gwen, fell asleep.

The next morning Trent awoke to sunlight filling his room, he took in his surroundings and recalled what had happened last night, and how Gwen had ended up in his bed. A part of him really didn't want to move, there was no way an opportunity to have Gwen this close to him was ever going to happen again, he really wanted to enjoy this, but at the same time Trent knew he should get up and find out if the electricity was back on. With that, Trent carefully shifted himself so he wouldn't disturb Gwen, and crept out of his room and headed downstairs. Trent made his way over to the light switch and pressed it, and to Trent's delight, the overhead light in his living room turned on. Once Trent had his confirmation that the electricity was back on, Trent decided to look outside, he went over to his living room window and looked out onto the street and immediately groaned. There was tons of snow, about forty centimeters of it, and Trent was not looking forward to shoveling it. Then Trent heard the sound of footsteps, and Trent turned around to find Gwen coming up to him. "Good morning." Trent said. "Morning, electricity back on?" Trent nodded. "Good, I'm glad, and how's it looking outside?" Gwen looked out the window and she groaned as well. "Can't wait to drive home in that." Gwen said sarcastically. "Come on, I'll make us some breakfast." Trent said, and the pair headed towards the kitchen.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, neither Trent nor Gwen were particularly talkative that morning. Trent wondered if it was because of him, sure the silence between them didn't feel awkward, but Trent couldn't help but wonder if he had somehow caused this. Once they had finished eating, Trent put their dishes in the dishwasher, and walked Gwen to the door. As Gwen was putting on her Winter clothes she suddenly spoke up. "You know, despite the situation being a little strange, I think I'd do this again." Trent raised an eyebrow at Gwen. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, I'm honestly glad I wasn't snowed in with my mom and my brother, we probably would've only gotten an hour into it before me and Gavin would've tried to kill each other." Trent chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. I could think of worse people to be snowed in with for a night." "That's the spirit." Gwen said. "Oh, by the way, thanks for last night." "Oh, no problem." "I know it was a little awkward, but I don't think it was that bad overall, do you?" "No, you're right, it wasn't that bad." Trent said honestly. Despite me acting like an idiot. "Yeah, maybe we should do it again sometime." Gwen had a teasing grin on her face at this point, so Trent figured she was probably joking. "Y-yeah, maybe we should." Trent said, trying desperately to go along with Gwen's joke. "Yeah, maybe you'll actually kiss me next time." Trent's face went bright red, and his jaw dropped, whatever he had been expecting Gwen to say, it certainly hadn't been that. Gwen definitely wasn't joking; she had a dead serious look on her face. "H-how- How did you-" "Oh come on Trent, even in the dark it was kind of obvious what you were trying to do. Do you think I'm an idiot?" "No!" Trent cried. "I-I just... Hoped you hadn't noticed?" That sounded lame even to Trent, because of course Gwen had noticed. Trent looked down at his shoes, he couldn't look at Gwen now. She knew, the cat was out of the bag, this was the part where Gwen told him that she didn't feel the same way, then she going to leave, and that would be it. Friendship over.

"Trent?" Here it comes. Trent couldn't look up. "Can you look at me?" Trent didn't want to, he really didn't, but he also couldn't say no to Gwen. Trent looked up and into Gwen's eyes. There was no pity, her expression was neutral, and unreadable. "Did you honestly think I never noticed the way you blush and stutter around me? Or how you stare at me when I think I'm not looking?" Trent felt his face reddening even more. "Well- Yes? No! I- I don't know! You never commented on it." Trent pointed out. As Trent said it, a question came to him, why hadn't Gwen ever mentioned anything before? To spare his feelings? To avoid making things even more awkward? "What didn't you tell me that you knew, Gwen?" Trent asked her. Trent watched as Gwen chewed on her bottom lip nervously. "I was afraid I reading your feelings incorrectly. If I had been wrong about how you felt then..." Gwen swallowed. "Then you wouldn't feel the same way I felt about you." Trent's jaw dropped to for the second time. Had he heard that correctly? "Are- Are you being serious?" Trent asked. "Dead serious, Trent, I would never lie to you about something like this." Gwen said very seriously. Giddy happiness surged through Trent, Gwen had feelings for him. This was, without a doubt, the happiest moment in Trent's life. A grin spread across Trent's face, and when he looked at Gwen, he saw that she had a matching grin. He walked straight up to Gwen, Trent stopped when his face was about a centimeter from Gwen's, then he put Gwen's face between his hands, pulled her face towards his, and pressed his lips against hers. It was better than Trent had ever imagined. The kiss was short and sweet, but still perfect, Trent was the one who pulled back. "Gwen, will you be my girlfriend?" Trent asked her. Gwen's smile widened. "I thought you'd never ask." Trent laughed, then he pulled Gwen back in for another kiss.

End

#total drama #td gwent #fanfiction

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madamsixx · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond The Leather Chapter 84: Every Little Step

@knockemdeadgirl @leatherandheels @crazyrockrlady @elena2407

Thursday, December 28th, 1989

Toronto, Canada

Morning

"Alright mama, I'm ready to go!" I yelled from downstairs.

"I don't understand why Tamara booked you for a video music shoot." My mom groaned as she walked downstairs. "You barley spent any time with us. You went to Vancouver to see Jess and her family and spent Christmas there. You just got back yesterday."

"She really wanted me to meet her dad." I shrugged.

"In Vancouver?" My mom raised her brows. "They live in the states."

"In Miami."

My mom's face went straight. "Iman you need to come home more often and spend some time with us. Your sisters miss you...and so do I."

I felt bad. I do miss my family whenever I am away in LA. I planned on coming back and spending the rest of the time here. But Tamara called and said I had to come down to LA immediately. My mom also said she has been calling while I was in Vancouver.

"Mama I told Tamara not to book me for anything during the holidays, but she still did."

My mom's face went from straight to sad.

"I'm sorry."

She sighed. "Don't be, this is your career. But try and come home more often."

"I will." I smiled.

"That would be nice." My mom smiled. "Do you know the artist that you'll be working with?"

"Not sure, but I hope it's Michael Jackson again. I loved working with him."

"Well, you're booked. So, you have to go." She groaned again. "Selena, Felicia, Maya!" She called out to my sisters. "Iman is leaving hurry and come say bye!"

My sisters came downstairs and I said my goodbyes to them. The limo picked me up and dropped me at the airport so I could take a private plane back to the states.

As soon as I landed, I saw Tamara get out of the car.

"Hi Tamara."

"Hi sweetie." She smiled. "Get her bags and put them in the car." She snapped at the chauffeur.

We entered the limo and started driving.

"Tamara my mom was really upset with you booking me for a video shoot. I wanted to stay home for the rest of the break." I complained.

"Listen, you're going to thank me when we get to the meeting tonight."

"Who is the person I'll be working with?" I ask with curiosity.

"Can't tell you, you will just have to see the person when we get to the meeting."

"Is it in a conference room?"

"What is it with you and conference rooms, you always ask me that?" She snapped.

"I just want to know." I shrugged and looked at my feet.

"Well it's annoying stop asking." She grumbled. "It's wherever I plan it to be or the other person plans it to be."

I looked up at her than looked out the window.

"Oh... I'm not going home?" I question as the limo pulled up to Tamara's condo.

"Nope." She said as she stepped out of the limo. "You're going to clean up at my place."

I got out of the limo and we went upstairs to her apartment. Everything looked different, it was not like it was before. Plus, it was huge, and she had more expensive things. Well with the amount of money I'm making us her cut is a lot.

"I like what you did with the place."

I walked around looking at the new antiques that she had.

"Yes." She said as she placed her hands on her hips. "We're making loads of money. So, I redecorated the whole place. Plus, I'm planning on taking a trip soon time. But first I need to get everything straighten out for you. Alright put your things down and call your mom I'm sure she'll want to know you've arrived."

I walked into the spare bedroom where I use to sleep, I looked around at everything. All the memories I had growing up in LA were from here. Wow can't believe it's been 5 years since I left her condo and got my own place. I put my stuff down and sat on the bed. I picked up the phone and called home.

"Hello."

"Hi mama."

"Hi Iman, you arrived."

"Yes, I'm at Tamara's place."

"Alright that's good. Did she tell you the artist that you will be working with?"

"No, not yet. I'm going to find out tonight at our business meeting. I hope it's not in a conference room." I groan.

"Isn't that were all your meetings are?" My mom questions.

Oh shoot.

"Uh... y... yes. I just meant you know... sometimes the conference rooms get a little crowded." I responded nervously trying to cover up for the fact that my mom doesn't know what really happened in 87.

"Iman, are you alright?" My mom asks with a worried tone.

"Yes, mama I am." I responded trying to sound like I am when really I wasn't.

"Um, let me speak with Tamara."

"Alright." I put down the phone on the drawer and walk into the living room. "Tamara my mom wants to speak with you."

"Alright." Tamara stands up and grabs the phone.

I walk back into the room and put the phone down. I took off my clothes so I could shower and take a quick nap. I was up very early this morning to catch the flight. So, I was a bit exhausted.

"Sweetie." Tamara knocked on the door.

"Yes, you can come in." I said as I wrapped my towel around me.

"Are you alright?" She asks crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes, I'm fine." I smiled.

"Pick up the phone your mom wants to say bye." She said as she walked out of the room.

"Mama."

"Iman, I told Tamara not to book you for any more holidays. That's the time you need to spend with your family and get a break. You can't just work through the whole year without a breather. Plus, you're going to need time for school when you start university."

I really hate when my talks about school it drives me crazy. I already told her I was going to go.

"Alright, thanks."

"Also, you're going to love the artist you're working with."

"What!" I raised my voice. "She told you and not me!"

"Have fun, bye."

"Bye mama."

I put down the phone the headed into the shower. Who is the artist, I just want to know right now?

Nighttime...

Knock knock knock

"Iman get up you need to get ready." Tamara said as she opened my door.

"Mm mm." I stretched and rolled around on the bed. "All I have to do is put on a dress and do my hair."

"Excuse you." She snorted. "You need to shower, brush your teeth, and look hot."

"I already did all those things." I furrowed my brows and smelt my armpits.

"Well do it again because we're meeting the hottest bad boy in the music industry right now. He is every girl's dream. Including yours." She smirked with a devious grin on her face.

Now I'm intrigued. Who is the hottest bad boy in the music industry right now? All I could think of is Nikki Sixx. Ha...well that's cause he's my boyfriend. So, I'm not sure who else.

I finished showering and came out of the washroom. I walked into my room and lotioned myself then put on my bra and panties.

"Iman hurry up! We need to get you ready and get going! Get in my room now!" Tamara yelled from her room.

I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me. I walked into Tamara's room and sat down by her Vanity. She brought over a white tight dress and handed it to me.

"Oh, this is nice." I smiled.

"Of course, it is. Now change and I'll do your hair into a bun."

I took the towel off and started putting on the dress.

"God, that disgusting scar needs to go. It just makes you look awful. Ugh." She snorted.

I tensed up a bit and put on the dress faster.

"Well." I turned around looking at her feeling a bit bad at the comment that she made.

"It looks good." She nodded. "Turn and sit, let me do your hair."

I sat down at the Vanity again and looked into the mirror as Tamara came with gel and two combs.

"So, your mom tells me you were in Vancouver visiting Jess?" She asks while combing my hair up.

"Uh, yes." I say with nervousness and lift my arm to scratch my neck.

"Keep that hand off your neck." She growled.

"Sorry." I mumbled putting my hand down. "Um she wanted me to meet her parents. They were all having a family dinner. And Toronto is close to Vancouver, so I said sure."

Tamara continued to comb my hair as she glared at me through the mirror.

"Is Jess our assistant or our friend?" Tamara dryly asked.

"Um..." I didn't know how to answer that question. I don't even know what she's getting at.

"Iman." She called my name firmly. "Is Jess...our assistant... or friend?" She spoke more firmly and started pulling and tugging my hair a little more aggressively making my head move side to side.

"Ow." I winced. "As... assistant." I stared back at her. "You're pulling to hard Tamara." I spoke softly.

She stopped combing and held my hair with a tight grip in a ponytail as she continued to stare at me. "Do not forget that. No more visits to her family. You did that already when you were raped which was understandable because you needed to get away." She leaned down closer to my ear while her eyes stayed glued to mine. "But she...she is our assistant...not your friend." Tamara spoke firmly.

"Yes." I barely whispered as my fingers started to shake while I looked her in the eyes from the reflection of the mirror.

She slowly leaned back and finished tying my hair in the Iman Darlington bun.

"There's my girl." She smiled and slicked the baby hairs up. "Now you're perfect."

I smiled nervously in the mirror still feeling a little shaken and timid.

"Alright go put on the white heels I got for you. Those will complete the look."

I got up and walked out of the room and grabbed the heels and put them on. I let out a shaky breath and touched my heart as I leaned on the wall. I know Jess is an assistant, but I don't see her as that. By this point considering everything that we have been through. I look at her as my friend. I can go to her if I need to talk to her. And she is the only one that knows about me and Nikki and supports us.

"Alright let's go." Tamara said as she walked out of her room dressed and ready to go.

We arrived at the Casa Vega in Sherman oaks. This is a top celebrity restaurant, who are we meeting? And how come we're not doing this in a conference room. Normally all my business meetings are conducted there. But you know what, I don't like conference rooms. So, I am not complaining. The chauffeur opened the door for us and immediately I was swarmed by paparazzi and screaming girls. I wonder who is in there? This must be a heart throb. Security escorted us in while the girls started screaming my name and trying to grab me.

"Oh my." I breathed out and chuckled. "So many girls."

"Yes, they are and you will see why." Tamara smiled.

"Ms. Darlington, Ms. Jones right this way."

We were escorted to a table closer to the back with three more security guards standing there. I heard a guy talking making other people who were sitting around the table laugh. But I couldn't see the guy.

"Ahh, Tamara." An older looking white man stood up and walked over to hug her. "You look stunning."

"Thank you, so do you." She chuckled. "Iman come here." She smiled as she placed her arm around my back pulling me close. "This is Steven Machat."

"It's nice to meet you Iman." He smiled holding his hand out for me to shake.

"It's nice to meet you too." I responded shaking his hand.

"Wow this drink is nice!" I heard the guys deep voice again. "Is she here?"

"Yes Mr. Brown she is." Tamara smiled than looked at me.

"Let me see her." The voice said. "Outta my way."

The security guards moved and....

"She's waking up."

I heard a voice say as my eyes started opening slowly.

"Woah let's get you up slowly."

Another voice said.

I started sitting up slowly and touched my head. "Oh, wow I had the strangest dream." I groaned.

"What was the dream?" A voice asked.

"I was dreaming that Bobby Brown was standing in front of me." I chuckled as the two guards held me up.

"That was no dream sweetheart."

I turn and see the man himself. Bobby Brown standing right in front of me. I could not move, or blink, or say anything. I could not do anything, no wonder all those girls were screaming outside. He's the bad boy in the music industry right now. The sexiest man who can sing and dance. I loved him from New Edition and I still love him now. Pictures and music videos could not even compare to how he looked standing in front of me right now. This man is my crush, I dream about him a night when I am sleeping, using the toilet, and showering.

"I knew she would be star struck." Tamara laughed guiding me to sit on the couch. "You, Michael Jackson, and Prince are gods to her. She loves you."

"Well can't blame her, all the ladies love Bobby Brown." He smirked. "I'm the hottest fly guy out here."

Cocky, most fine men like him are. Take Nikki for instance, he is full of himself.

"Oh...I'm... I'm... so sorry I completely embarrassed myself." I groaned and wiped my face.

"Hey look, why don't we take a walk on the patio and talk. Get to know me so that I'm not just your crush." He chuckled.

"I think that's a great idea." Tamara smirked looking at me.

"Yes." I smiled nervously.

We walked outside on the patio in silence. I was still star struck. Bobby Brown! Oh, my lord.

"How you feelin really?" He leaned on the railing and smirked at me.

"I feel pathetic." I chuckled. "I mean I fainted right in front of you." I groaned and put my hands on my face.

"Nah, don't feel like that. I'm actually a fan of yours too." He smiled warmly at me.

"Me." I looked up at him raising my brows. "Don't be cruel."

He burst out and started laughing. "You got jokes huh."

"Yes, I got jokes." I shrugged and laughed not being able to take my eyes off him.

"Nah, for real, I'm a fan of yours. I saw you walk in New York fashion week back in 87. And woo trust me... them legs can work." He chuckled.

I burst laughing and hid my face in my hands again. "Stop this." I smiled.

"I'm the one who asked for you to be in my music video."

I turned to look at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"Yeah, girl." He nodded. "I'm making the video for Every Little Step. And I need a fine woman to chase like yourself."

"Me... oh my god...really? I mean there are so many other pretty girls."

"You don't think you're pretty?" He furrowed his brows.

"oh I am... but I mean you're Bobby Brown." I chuckled humorously waving my hands at him. "You're so...sexy." I blurted out laughing and feeling embarrassed at what I just said.

"Yeah...I is." He smirked with a cocky face flipping his collar up. "And Bobby wants Iman Darlington to be his lead girl in the video."

I was speechless, Bobby Brown is personally asking for me.

"Yes...I want to be your girl!" I squealed.

"Huh?" He furrowed his brows.

"Sorry... sorry... your video girl." I laughed humorously.

"Aight, we've been shooting rehearsals for two weeks with two other girls. The last rehearsal is tomorrow morning. And then the real video shoot is tomorrow afternoon." He chuckled.

"Woah, so soon." I raised a brow.

"If it's too much for you to handle you don't have to do it. We can rip the contract-"

"No, no it's just...why'd you ask last minute? I mean...I'm professional so I can catch up in the morning before the shoot but..."

"Well, Tamara said you were home for vacation when my team called. So, I said not to bother you cause that's your family time. But than after she couldn't get a hold of you. She said your mom told her that you were in Vancouver visiting your assistant's family."

"Oh yes that...she's my friend as well."

"Well, Tamara called your assistant. But I don't think she passed the message along to you."

"Oh... I didn't know that."

That explains why Tamara was going hair crazy on me.

"Well at least you're here now." He smiled warmly. "So... am I still just your crush?"

"Uh...yes!" I responded with enthusiasm. "I can't look at you any other way!"

"Aight, good to know. That means we're going to have a lot of fun practicing tomorrow." He grinned and raised his brows.

I cannot wait.

Back at condo...

"I can't believe Bobby Brown wants me to be in his music video! Like I cannot Tamara!" I squealed as I took off my heels.

"Well I can. You're the hottest girl in the fashion industry right now. Everybody knows who you are. And everyone wants a piece of you. But only the hottest celebrities can have you." She chirped taking her heels off.

"So, before we left you were a bit angry...with me?" I question.

"Yes, I was." She spoke with attitude turning to face me.

"Um... is it because I went to visit Jess?" I furrowed my brows.

"I created you." She said as she slowly walked over to me. "Jess arrived when you were Iman Darlington. And yet for some reason every time she asks you to come somewhere with her you go. As if she's the one whose been taking care of you."

"I was just meeting her family." I mumbled and started twitching my fingers.

"Oh, you were just meeting her family." She mocked. "So why didn't you tell me? Why is that I had to find out from your mom that you went to Vancouver. And on top of that, I called Jess in Vancouver and told her that you had a booking for a video shoot. And she didn't tell you a thing."

"Well, I don't know why she didn't say anything." I shrugged.

I know exactly why she didn't say anything. I was helping Nikki.

"Do not get sassy with me. I'm the last person you want to do that with." She spoke with an angry tone pointing at me.

"I wasn't-"

"This isn't a friendship thing with Jess, Iman! She has a job to do! The job is not to make friends with you! You are her boss, no more of that Iman!" She spoke sternly raising her voice. "I'm warning you!"

"Yes." I nodded trembling and feeling scared.

She turned to walk into her room but stopped. "I like Jess Iman." She turned and looked at me. "But I will fire her if things ever get personal again between you two. I can't trust Jess if she's not doing her job and keeping secrets from me regarding your work and personal life."

"It will not happen again." I assured.

She turned and continued to walk into her room slamming the door shut.

Telling Tamara what she wants to hear is the best way to keep her from trying to fire Jess or even thinking about it. I need Jess to stay with me, and on the team. I don't think I could survive without her.

_____

Friday, December 29th, 1989

Afternoon...

Today is the video shoot day for Bobby Brown's video. I am very excited that he asked me to be in the video. This morning's rehearsals were a killer. I had so much catching up to do before the actual shoot.

The other two girls were nice enough to show me the dance steps. I had a solo where I had to dance by myself twisting and winding my hips. I had another solo where I would be walking on the opposite side of Bobby while he's chasing me down. And my last solo with Bobby I would be wearing a red dress and grinding up close to him. At the very end of the video I was going to be sitting in a bathtub with him... but with my clothes on. Uh, I cannot wait. I think I will be a little extra and pop my booty out more than I should. Don't judge me, I'm sure if you had a celebrity crush grind up behind you. All thoughts of husband and boyfriend wouldn't be in your mind. So just allow me.

Anyways, after rehearsals I had to quickly go back home to shower again and leave, the limo just dropped me off at the building where we will be filming. This wasn't like Michael Jackson's video shoot. We shot that one on the streets of LA. I walked inside the studio and stopped to observe. This one was in an actual studio; I was in awe. I stood there taking it all in. There were so many cameras and lightnings all over the place. There were also numerous people running around trying to set up.

"Iman."

I turned to look over at the director for the video shoot.

"Hi." I walked over to him and shook his hand. "Sorry I've been in studios doing model shoots but never been in one for a video shoot. This is amazing." I chuckled.

"Isn't it." He smiled. "So how are you feeling, you think you got steps right?"

"Yes, I have been practicing even though I only had the morning."

"That's good to hear." He nods. "Alright, Carmen over here will take you to your room to get you ready for the video. The other girls are getting ready as well."

"Thank you."

I followed her to the change room and the glam team came in to fix me up. They brought in this skin-tight black dress with silver cups that I would be wearing along with these long black heeled boots. After I finished getting dressed, I sat by the Vanity as they applied makeup to my face. They straighten my hair added weave in and gave me these heavy silver earrings to put on and applied red lipstick to my lips.

"Alright, you're ready to go Ms. Darlington. Once this shoot is done. You're going to come back in here and change into this red dress for you and Bobby's scene. Alright."

"Alright sounds good."

I walked out and met up with the other two ladies. We said hi to each other and stood by the side waiting to start.

"He is fucking sexy; I can't believe we get to work with him." One girl said.

"I know." The other girl said. "Also, it's a pleasure working with you Iman. When we heard you were going to be here shooting I was like wow Iman Darlington is going to be here too." She touched my shoulder.

"Awe thank you." I smiled at the girls.

"You were great in the way you make me feel. That's kind of like this video. Y' know... Bobby chasing down the girl." She said.

"Actually yes...it is. Except we filmed that one on the streets of LA. This ones in a studio." I chuckled. "I think it's really cool."

"So, do you have any tips on how to become a model like yourself?" One girl asked.

"Uh... honestly I have no idea. But I can take your phone numbers and see if my manager can take you girls on."

"That would be great, thanks."

"Oh... here he comes!" One of the girls squealed.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies." Bobby came strutting out in a black suit showing his chest underneath. God this man is fine. "Y'all are looking absolutely beautiful."

We all three started laughing saying thank you and playing with our hair like little high school girls. We are so ridiculous. But you know what... this is Bobby Brown.

"Alright Bobby, are we ready!" The director called.

"Yup, let's go." He said and winked at us.

"Alright, play back the music!" He called out.

Bobby stepped on the platform and the music started playing. We stood around watching him and the two other guys dancing behind him. The choreographer signaled for us to start walking onto the white platform. We all three started walking on the platform with me leading the girls. It was time for us to start the dance part. We stopped walking and lifted are hands in our hair and did our sexy twirl around then continued our walk. It was time for my lone solo where I danced and twirled around by myself. I flipped my hair and started winding as the camera followed my every movement.

After that whole part of the shoot was done it was time for the next shoot. Bobby had to change into his suspenders, and I had to change into the little tight red dress with black stockings and black heels. My hair was then curled, and I walked out on to the set ready for my solo with Bobby.

"Alright que music!" The director shouted.

The music started playing and Bobby began to dance with the two boys behind him. The choreographer looked at me and signaled me to get on the platform. I walked on and started walking down the line as Bobby made his way over to me and started chasing after me. I turned and lifted my pointer finger up signaling for him to come close as he walked behind. I turned back around and skipped and twirled as he caught up to me. He came right behind me and grabbed my hips and we started grinding with each other.

I bit my lip as I turned to face him and started grinding on him from the front. He moved his hand down to my butt and gave it a rub...that was not in rehearsal. I swear my nipples started getting hard and tingling. It was time for me to walk away off the platform. As soon as I got off, I turned and watched him do his thing. He turned and winked at me. If I had one wish it would be to do another video with him again.

End of shoot...

I sat in the change room taking off the stage clothes and getting back into my regular clothes.

Knock knock

"Yes, come in." I turned to face the door.

The door opened and Bobby came walking in.

"Hey there." He smiled. "You alright?"

"Am I alright?!" I raised my brows smiling with all teeth. "I nearly had a heart attack out there!" I laughed.

"I have that affect on the ladies." He said with a cocky tone sitting on my dresser.

"You're so cocky, you're not all that." I joked.

"Really." He snorted. "Cause when we was doing our thing out there your body language said otherwise."

"I was reacting to what you did. Because that was not in rehearsal." I smiled.

He chuckled humorously and shook his hand. "Hey, I had to improvise and make the chase look real."

"Mhm." I raised my brow giving him a playful glare.

"So, uh... what you up to now?" He leaned close smiling at me. "We should chill." He shrugged.

"As much as I would love to I can't. I have a hair appointment with my girlfriends. We're going out on New years."

"Mm sounds nice." He leaned back. "Well how bout we exchange numbers. We can find some other time to chill."

Oh Bobby... I would love to give you my number. Is what I wanted to say.

"How about I take yours and call you sometime." I smiled deviously at him.

"Mm." He chuckled and shook his head. "You're one of those girls. Aight." He shrugged. "We can do that."

He wrote his number down and we said our goodbyes. It was better this way. If he ever called me while Nikki was at my place......

Hair salon...

"No fricken way!" Jade yelled. "Bitch Bobby fucking Brown! The black sex God!"

All the girls in the salon started laughing hysterically.

"Yes." I laughed. "I can't wait for the video to come out. I- looked- so -hot. Plus, I got his number." I screamed waving the paper.

"Mmm." Rachel snorted and looked down at her nails.

"Someone's a hater." My hairdresser spoke up while she braided my hair.

"Bitch I'm not a hater." Rachel sneered. "I just find it hard to believe that Bobby Brown gave his number to Iman."

I rolled my eyes. "It's right here." I said holding up the paper.

"I'm sure you had to suck him to get it. Tastelessness." She snorted.

"Bitch you hating. Just say you're happy that Iman got to be in a video with that hot piece of chocolate." Jade laughed.

"I'm happy you were in a video with Bobby Brown, but I think you're delusional about the number thing."

Everyone in the salon looked at each other and than at her.

"Why don't we call then?" My hairdresser spoke up.

Jade's hairdresser walked over and grabbed the phone. I gave her the number and she dialed it in. The phone rang and we waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

The girls started chuckling and squealing.

"Shh." I hissed at them. "Bobby?" I asked.

"Who's this?"

"It's Iman... Iman Darlington."

"Eyyyyy...I was wondering when I was going to hear from you." He chuckled. "You ready to chill. And is this your number?"

"No this is a salon's number. I'm just here with my girls getting my hair done." I chuckled. "One of my girlfriends doesn't believe that I have your number, so I wanted to shut her up and prove that I did." I shot daggers at Rachel.

"What's her name?"

"Rachel." I glared at her.

"Hey Rachel, this Bobby Brown. And Iman's got my number. Now stop being a hater."

We all burst out laughing looking at Rachel. I said my goodbyes to him and hung up. Me and the girls squealed and screamed like high schoolers.

"Whatever." Rachel spat.

"Jealousy does not look good on you." Jade snarled at Rachel.

"Neither does the hairstyle your getting." She retorts.

"Alright, alright, alright." I spoke up calming the situation. "Where are we going for New Years?"

"It's a pub, it's a nice place that plays hip hop and reggae. Trust me it will be fun." Rachel chirps.

"Are we bringing men or-"

"Bitch you are not bringing that nasty rock star you're sleeping with. I don't even know why you're still with him." Rachel sneered at Jade.

"Fuck you!" Jade yelled at her.

"What rock star is this?" Jade's hairdresser asked.

"His name is Tracii and he's really nice. I actually like him." Jade shoots daggers at Rachel. "And I wasn't trying to bring him he's already going to his own new years party with his friends and bandmates."

"Good, because rock stars aren't allowed where we're going." She says with attitude. "There's going to be a lot of classy models and actresses there. You don't want to embarrass yourself with a man like that hanging all over you."

"You're such a bitch." Jade flips her off.

"Well girls who usually tell the truth are. I would respect you more if you had more class like me and Iman."

I dry gulped as she mentioned my name. I was trying to stay out of this topic.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jade furrows her brows.

"Me and Iman would never...be caught dead dating rockers. We're classy. Like ugh, how low can one go. You're a beautiful girl but you're choosing to lower your standards for trash. Anyways I don't blame you, you like rugged up guys like Tracii and that Motley Crue guy Nikki Sixx. When she sees him on TV she starts drooling."

"Nikki Sixx?" I tensed up questioning and looked at her.

"Remember, the guy who approached our table and was trying to talk to you in London. He actually wanted to talk to me." Jade sat back and flipped her hair. "And honestly Rachel I haven't seen you with any classy guys only Iman when she was talking with Derek. So, until I see you with anybody you have no room to talk about guys."

"Whatever." Rachel rolled her eyes.

I'm hoping that Nikki doesn't ask me to come to my new years party with my girls. After what Rachel just said I'm way too scared to ever introduce him to any of them.

At home...

Rachel dropped me back home after we got our hair and nails done for the 31st. I opened my front gate and then opened the door to my house closing it behind me. I took my heels off and my jacket. I walked towards my room...

"Ahhh!"

"Hey princess." Nikki chuckled as he sat in my bed in sweatpants reading a magazine.

"What are you doing here?" I asked with confusion. "I thought you were staying in Vancouver until tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I was, but I found out from Jess that you were here instead of in Canada." He raised his brows.

"I was supposed to be home." I walked fully into my room and started undressing. "But Tamara called and booked me for a video shoot. So, I had to come back right away."

"Hmm, and you didn't think to tell me?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Sorry." I shrugged.

"What was the video shoot for?"

"I did a music video shoot with Bobby Brown!" I squealed.

Nikki's face dropped and his jaw clenched a bit.

"What?" I question.

"I hope it wasn't sexual."

"No, it wasn't." I rolled my eyes. "Well... maybe just a little."

He glared at me and bit his cheek. "What did you do to your hair?" He raised his brows.

"You like it." I smiled shaking my braids.

"Yeah I do." He smiled.

"I see you also used my Christmas gift." I smiled.

He chuckled and shook his head. He grabbed his key chain and pulled my house key up, holding it in his hand.

"Come here." He bit his lip.

I stripped down into my bra and panties then crawled on the bed. I sat ontop of his lap. He put one arm around my waist and the other holding the spare key up.

"Are you asking me to move in?" His face went serious.

"No... not really...but... I want you to know that you're welcome anytime. And I just feel like you shouldn't have to knock on my door to come into my house." I smiled.

He put his keys back on the table next to the paper with my gate code on it. I felt like that was a good Christmas present. He turned and put his hands behind my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.

"Thank you, Mani." He mumbled against my lips. "So, what are you doing for new years?"

"I told you I was going out remember." I kissed him on his lips again.

"What are you wearing?" He asked kissing down my neck and rubbing my back.

"Oh my god, I'm glad you asked!" I squealed getting off him and running into my closet. "I'm wearing this!" I pulled my silver dress out that I bought when I went shopping with my sisters at home.

Nikki's jaw dropped when he saw it. He looked at the dress than looked up at me.

"And where are you going?" He raised his brow.

"It's this pub that Rachel and the girls want to go to." I smiled holding my dress up to myself.

He looked down at the dress again then back up to me. This time raising one brow.

"What music are they playing?"

"Um...hip hop and reggae." I mumbled the last part.

"I'm sorry what was the last thing?" He furrowed his brows and glared at me.

"R... reggae."

He looked at me then looked down at the dress and then back up at me.

"Mani." He raised his brows. "We're going to have a problem."

#Nikki Sixx #Tommy Lee #Mick Mars #Vince Neil #Chanel Iman #Motley Crue #The Dirt #1980s #1990s #Model #Motley Crue Fandom #interracial #Glam Metal #rock n roll #Nikki #The Dirt Fandom #Slash #fanfiction #Rock

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nastybuckybarnes · 5 years ago

Text

Bodyguard - Two

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky X Politician!Reader

Summary: As a young and controversial politician, you face some opposition. After a death threat is made and your security is at risk, you agree to get a bodyguard. You don’t expect him to be the most irritating and attractive man on the planet. With a history so deep and twisted you never thought you’d figure it out, a terrible corporation is determined to take you out of the political picture; using any means necessary. The only question is, how far is James willing to go to ensure your safety?

Warnings: Angst, Violence, threats, injuries, kidnapping, drugging, political talk (not a lot), terrorism (Wait for the plot twist tho guys), Smut, Fluff, PTSD, (More to Come)

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: And part two!! Slow for now, but wait ‘till the next chapter. oh looooords

BASED OFF OF THE NETFLIX ORIGINAL: BODYGUARD TAGLIST IS OPEN MASTERLIST Part one

~*~

"Three attacks in nine months. How does that make you feel, Madame Secretary?” You think about the interviewer's question for a moment before answering.

“It saddens me that so many innocent lives have been lost. But it also makes me curious about the reason behind the attacks. Why attack the train station and the bus stop and the coffee shop? What’s the connection? What is the point? These attacks are targeting innocents, why? What lesson is being taught here?” He nods and glances at the screen over your shoulder.

“What do you plan to do about them? Many have said that these are attacks from foreign countries in the Middle East. Should we reintroduce a ban on Middle Eastern people?” You scoff out loud, shaking your head at how stupid he sounds.

“What would that solve? There are speculations built on fear, that the terrorists were not white. However, there is absolutely no proof that the terrorists weren’t Americans. I will not advise a ban on an entire group of people, based on incidents of the past. If we count up all the casualties from terrorist attacks by white Americans, we’re looking at thousands of deaths and hundreds of thousands of injuries. I refuse to allow the fear of a few sways the opinions of many. To make myself explicitly clear, there is no proof of any race being responsible for the terrorist attacks. There is also no ban on any race thus far. We are not banning anyone from our country, so long as our laws are being followed and our rights are being adhered to.”

The interview ends shortly after that and you couldn’t be happier.

“Thank you again for coming in, Madame Secretary.” As the reporter goes to shake your hand, a man bumps into him, causing him to bump into you and spill your coffee all over your blouse.

You gasp, the hot drink burning your skin, and jump away from the man.

“Shit! Jesus Fucking Christ!” You glance at your ruined blouse and pinche the bridge of your nose.

“I’m meeting with a representative of the President in half an hour!” You try to calm down and think of how to fix your shirt.

“Where’s Wanda! Have her bring me a fresh blouse!” You order, glaring at the man behind the interviewer.

“There’s no time,” Sergeant Barnes says from behind you, tugging his tie off and slipping out of his suit jacket. You watch as he sheds his white shirt, eyes fluttering to his left arm.

It’s made completely out of metal.

“My shirt has been altered to fit over my vest. The chest to waist ratio should be compatible.” His eyes flicker over your torso for a moment before returning to your face. “Shirt is fresh this morning, Ma’am.” You offer him a smile and take the warm white shirt from his hand. He pulls his suit jacket back on and buttons it up to cover his white kevlar vest.

“Here, I’ll show you to the restroom.” You follow the interviewer, Sergeant Barnes a step behind you.

The shirt is warm and incredibly comfortable when you put it on. You tuck it into your pants and situate your Jacket to make it look more like a woman’s shirt, then leave the bathroom.

“Can’t even tell,” Barnes says, nodding to your new outfit. You smile a thank you then follow him out of the building and into the car that’s waiting for the two of you.

“Madame Secretary,” The PR says, shaking your hand firmly. “Mister Sitwell. Always a pleasure.” He nods and sits down with you, eyeing your bodyguard wearily for a moment.

“It’s a shame President Pierce couldn’t join us,” you say, trying to ease the tension.

“Yes. It is. However, he trusts that we’ll be brief but thorough.” You nod and start talking about what to do.

“The current terrorist threat level in America is at High. We want to get back down to Elevated at the least. I recommend being more thorough at all Airport security checkpoints and all borders. I also think it would be good to have more security throughout the country in general. At bus stations and train stations. Places with high civilian counts. I have a meeting with the Prime minister of Canada and I also will be speaking to the Home Secretary of the UK. After these meetings, I’ll have more information on what our next course of action should be.”

Sitwell nods and glances at his watch. “Keep myself and the President notified on any changes we must take. The safety of American citizens is our number one priority.”

The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur of conversations that you’ve grown tired of.

When the meeting’s finally over, you relax, eyes falling closed as the car drives smoothly towards your house.

You’re just stepping out of the shower when an odd feeling washes over you.

“Sergeant Barnes?” You call softly, turning off the lights in the bathroom and walking slowly to the window.

“Ma’am?” He knocks on the door then slowly opens it. His eyes find your towel-clad form but quickly move away when he sees the way you’re looking at the Window.

He presses on his earpiece and glances at you.

“Control, 10-12, stand by. Assistance may be needed at the southeast second-floor window.” He moves along the wall to the window and slowly glances out the blinds.

“Copy that, Barnes. Were on our way. ETA two minutes.”

“Control, 10-61. Man, late thirties in the tree 1-0 feet away from the window. Large camera in hand.”

Your heart beats faster as you realize they might catch the man who's been giving you so much trouble.

“Copy, I’ve got eyes on him. We’re closing in. Find a secure location inside the house for her for the time being.” Sergeant Barnes takes you by the arm and gingerly pulls you out of the bathroom.

“Get dressed quickly.” He turns his back to you and you stare at it for a minute. After deciding he won't turn around, you grab a pair of pyjamas and change quickly.

“Alright. We’ve got a 952 (suspicious vehicle) driving down her street. Licence plate Hotel-2-Delta-6-Romeo-4.” He mouths the words to himself a few times, trying to memorize them and their configuration.

“Barnes?” You ask softly, voice wavering slightly.

“Come with me.” You follow him to the guest bedroom, almost stumbling in the dark. When you finally reach the room, he sits you down on the bed, one gloved hand resting on his gun.

You bring your knees up to your chest and take deep breaths, calming yourself down as your bodyguard listens to whatever’s going on in his ear.

“He’s running! 10-80 (chase in progress). I need- oh shit!” Sam’s voice gets cut off by the sound of gunfire.

You squeak on the bed at the loud noise, pressing your forehead to your knees.

“Control, what the Hell’s happening out there?” He looks over at you then glances out the window, trying to see something. Anything.

“10-32 (man with gun), keep her inside. Suspect has a gun and has opened fire. Move to the basement, Barnes.”

He takes you by the hand and pulls you out of the room and down the stairs, catching you when you miss a step and almost eat shit.

“To the basement,” he whispers, eyes darting around the house. You hurry down another flight of stairs and watch as he scans the area before deeming it safe.

You sit down on the ground and lean your head against the wall, overwhelmed by everything that’s going on.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay.” You nod with his words, knowing you won’t be hurt. This is all mostly a huge inconvenience anyway.

“Control, Suspect is -oof! Contained. We have him.” He exhales deeply and smiles to himself.

“They’ve got him, Ma’am. You’re safe.”

A gunshot.

Tires squealing against concrete.

Blood splattered everywhere.

A car flipping and rolling rolling rolling.

A dead man in the front seat.

A child, terrified in the back.

Screams erupt, more shots are fired.

He’s dead already.

There’s blood all over the child’s face. In her hair.

She’s crying. Screaming and terrified.

You wake up with a startled gasp, eyes darting around your room. A few moments pass before you remember that you’re safe.

As the anniversary of his death approaches, the nightmares are growing increasingly realistic and frequent.

You sigh heavily and climb out of bed, navigating your way through the dark house and putting the kettle on.

You put your face in your hands as a tear slides down your cheek, trying to stay silent and not wake up your bodyguard.

“What are you doing up, ma’am?” You gasp at his voice and spin around, clutching your shirt and panting. “I-I...” you trail off and look away from his intense gaze.

“You’re safe here. I promise you that.” You shake your head. “It’s not that. I... ugh.” You find yourself embarrassed to admit this. “I sometimes have nightmares. Nothing major. I make myself tea and do some work or something.”

He watches you for a few moments before speaking. “I... understand the feeling.” You look back up at him, shock clear as day on your face.

“I was stationed overseas during my time with the military,” is the only explanation he gives.

You nod and look back at the kettle.

“Would-would you like some tea?” The world freezes as soon as the words roll off your tongue.

The clock ticks once, twice, three times before- “I’d love some. Thank you, ma’am.”

~*~

TAGS:

PERMANENT TAGS: @smolbeanbucky @wildefire @inumorph @impalatobakerstreet @nanna022 @mummy-woves-you @m-a-t-91 @wtfholland @bookgirlunicorn @beautifulwisdom2001 @deep-sea-glitter @mrhiddles-81 @iamwarrenspeace @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67 @unlikelygalaxygiver @agentlokidottir @viarogers

MARVEL: @fallenangelfangirl @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @cliffordasparagus @april-14-blog @potteritis @momc95 @shakzer00 @inkedaztec @cal-ifornication @heartislubbingdubbing @my-suga-kookies

BUCKY: @chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight @dragonrosegardens @saharzek @fandom-princess-forevermore

BODYGUARD: @the-surviving-revolutionist @spnsquirrel @alohafromhell1 @loki-ang-batang-heneral @emilysallysmith @farfromjustordinary @rebbie444 @mylife-love-and-other-things @lumar014 @goldtsunami @casuallydarktiger @iammomohearmerawr @tayahs-blog

#bucky #bodyguard bucky x politician reader #bodyguard bucky #bodyguard!bucky x reader #bodyguard!bucky x Politician!reader #bodyguard au #bucky x reader #bucky x you

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caffeinated-mendes · 5 years ago

Text

bel amour - a shawn mendes story (chapter 3)

masterlist

chapter one | chapter two

word count: 1.5 k

a/n: sorry i've been gone for a bit, school has gotten hectic so i'm just updating with this chapter that i wrote a very long time ago. likes and comments are always appreciated! <3

warnings: none

*if you prefer, you can read this on my ao3 or my wattpad

the exam that mila had to sit through was brutal. lea kept on giving her looks to ask for answers throughout it, but mila didn't say a word. even if lea studied, she couldn't remember things well. it was ten percent of their grade, so to say that mila wasn't a bit frazzelled during the test would be a complete lie. as they walked out of the lecture hall, lea screamed in frustration, sending worried looks to the people among them, "i definitely failed that test!"

"i sure you're fine, it was bad for me too. we'll check our scores when we get home," and so they did. both of them sat on one corner of the couch, "what did you get?" mila asked. lea looked for a second on her phone, and her face calmed.

"eighty percent, what about you?"

"see what i told you?" mila turned her head down, and looked, "eighty-two." she had a devilish smirk on her face. lea pelted her with pillows, and mila just giggled along, knowing she'd one-upped her for the thousandth time.

shawn

shawn had finished getting ready to see mila, overlooking himself in the mirror. had he overdressed? looking down at himself, he wore a black-button up with the top two buttons un-buttoned, and black skinny jeans, too. jeans were casual, but was the shirt too much? he ignored it and decided to go for it, grabbing his keys and texting mila.

do you want me to pick you up at your place? he asked, and she replied a minute later. sure. i'll send you my address :)

the trip wasn't too long, about ten minutes from his condo. mila lived in one of the apartment's that her university owned and rented out to students. shawn parked his jeep in the parking garage below and then strutted to the elevator, picking floor four. he found apartment 29 and rapped three times on the door. it opened very quickly by a girl who was not mila. she had honey colored eyes that glowed like orbs and long, curly brown hair. "shawn mendes," she said with an audible sarcastic gasp, "welcome to the peterson-hall residence. i'm lea. come on in." she opened the door.

shawn smiled, "it's nice to meet you, lea." he shook her hand awkwardly. shawn thought she was quite a character, but he liked that about her. he looked around the apartment, which had a tiny living space next to the front door, and an equally small kitchen. in front of two windows was a table for two and on the right wall were two doors. mila stepped out of the left one with a short blouse and blue washed jeans on. she wore boots for the cold weather in canada and had a jacket with her. shawn couldn't help but stare at her. mila was curved and tall, with dark hair cut past her shoulders.

her eyes shawn constantly looked at, surrounded by the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, they were dark and almost black if you didn't look at them in the sunlight. he could tell when it was daytime in the music store that they were brown.

shawn shook the thought out of his head before anyone noticed him staring and opened the knob of the door. "ready?" mila nodded, and smiled while saying goodbye to lea, who gave shawn a strangely aggressive look.

they had gotten to his black jeep, which mila was very excited to ride in. "i love jeeps, but they take up way too much gas. can't pay for an aesthetic, i guess," she laughed as shawn hurried in front of her to open the door. mila didn't care much about chivalry but accepted the kind gesture as shawn took his seat too. "what are we getting?" she asked.

shawn turned on the engine and put the car in drive, "'dunno, what do you like?"

mila looked out the window, watching the cityscape move by them, "anything, just no seafood. i can't stand fish."

shawn grinned, "'kay, no seafood. i'll find something close. how was your day?"

"good. i got an eighty-two on my exam and went to a workshop." she smiled, putting her hands over her legs. shawn noticed how she spread them out to cover the skin. he thought it might just be an unconscious habit. he turned his attention back to the road.

"a workshop for..."

"writing. i never told you, did i? i want to be a screenwriter, and currently i'm trying to work on something to submit to any media company who will take me." mila looked ahead of them, over the traffic of toronto. "how was your day?"

"good, too," shawn thought back to the events of his day, "i wrote some of a song, just a few lyrics and then had some meetings."

"fancy meetings for famous people," mila laughed, nudging him lightly in the arm.

shawn quirked his eyebrows, shifting his gaze to her for a second, "you making fun of me?"

"no, i'm just stating how you're sounding so professional, 'meetings,"

"is there another word for meetings, mila?"

"guess not."

when they had gotten to their destination the food in the backseat had nearly been cold. shawn had immediately jumped out of the jeep and opened the trunk to reveal piles of blankets and pillows and a small stack of silverware and plates. mila followed quickly behind to see that behind the blankets was a bottle of expensive wine. mila knew her wines, if she drank, that's all she'd have. looking around, she saw they were in a clearing surrounded by woods, and the sun had already set. "shawn, you didn't have to do all this. i would've been fine with sitting at your place or mine, watching netflix."

"yes, that would be fine," he took the blankets and began to lay them across his backseat, arranging the pillows, "but i prefer to go a little over the top."

"a little?" mila grinned, "this is so sweet. seriously, no one's ever done this with me."

shawn took the plates and the take-out handing them to mila, "save the gratitude for later, let's eat."

the meal was good, but it reminded her that nothing would taste as good as the chicken her mom would make back home way too often. she longed for it. she sat with shawn, nestled in a blanket opposite from him, their long legs barely touching. they both sipped on their wine and it was enjoyable being in each others presence, not saying anything and looking up at the stars. "what's it like?" shawn suddenly says, breaking the silence.

"what's what like?" mila thought he would say, being ordinary, not famous.

shawn shifted in his spot, the back of the jeep still comfortable for mila, "your home. tell me about your city."

"well, i lived in a one-story house. it had a pool. my room wasn't too big or too small. my parents were the best parents i could ask for. whenever we didn't have something for our lunches in the mornings, my dad would run to the store at 6 am to get us what we needed. we watched tv shows together every night for months at a time." mila kept going, everything flowing out of her mouth in a string of words, "my friends would come on the weekend sometimes. we'd spend hours talking, and now they've gone off to college on different sides of the us. i live closer to some of my family now that i'm here, but i miss my parents. my house has this certain feeling. like when i step inside it, i know that i'm safe and that, that i can strip away everything that i protect myself with. when i'm home i can throw everything aside and just live in my own company."

shawn shook his head, expression somewhat happy, "that sounds amazing. i wish i could see it from your point of view, you know? feel what you're feeling."

mila nodded, "yeah," her eyes seemed to droop and shawn seemed to notice.

"want me to take you home?"

she shook her head, opening her eyes a little more, "do you want to stay here?"

"sure," shawn said almost without a second's hesitation. he scooted a little closer to her, their bodies maybe five inches apart. their socked feet touched, and mila put away her glass, and so did he. mila's heart raced a bit, but she pushed her fears away and put her arm around him, putting her head on his chest as they laid back, covered in a soft blanket. shawn took her other hand and intertwined it with his. she didn't seem to mind and she closed her eyes. as her breaths got slower, shawn seemed to count them over in his head. her eyelashes lay down on her face like petals of a flower, and the freckles surrounding them were the pollen that helped make something beautiful.

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nekojitachan · 6 years ago

Note

111: “ You have… Superpowers? Andreil?

Warning’s for Neil’s childhood.

*******

Neil’s mother explained it as something that the Hatfords had always been able to do, which wasn’t much of an explanation, really. “We’ve always been special, Abram,” she told him one day in that awful house back in Baltimore. “Your uncle Stuart can tell the history of an object by touching it, your uncle Will can influence the dreams of people.” A smile possessed with the slighest of quivers spread across her lips as she reached out to tuck back a curl falling onto his forehead. “Soon enough we’ll see what you can do, if you can influence emotions like me or something, maybe read thoughts like your gram could.”

It turned out that he could read the thoughts and intentions of a person if he touched them (a bit of Uncle Stuart and Gram Marion), and even force them to tell the truth. Of course his father, Nathan Wesninski, knew about Mary’s gift, and so knew that Neil (Nathaniel) would have one too, and as soon as it manifested (when he was seven years old), put him to work in the ‘family’ business to help winnow out the plants and the traitors.

Mary grabbed Neil (Nathaniel), five million of Nathan Wesninski’s money and ran three years later.

His talent proved useful on the run, helped them to know who to trust and who not to, while Mary’s sowed confusion (and more) in their wake. By the time she’d died (too close a call with his father), he’d honed it well enough that, along with the rest of the stolen money and the skills she’d taught him over the years, he managed to set up the identity of ‘Neil Josten’ and form some sort of life.

It wasn’t much, but it allowed him a small apartment instead of some cheap motel (or homeless shelter or abandoned warehouse or even living in the back of a car), regular meals with fresh fruit, and even a cat he’d taken in from the streets. He’d started out in Millport, Arizona before he’d decided that a larger city might be best and moved to Reno instead; he couldn’t quite make himself return to California (where Mary had died and he’d buried her) but figured he’d remain out west a little longer before he tried Europe or Canada again.

Maybe he’d go to Russia next. At least as long as things were quiet, he had time to learn a new language or two (his Spanish was perfect by then, and his Russian coming along), and working in a coffee shop allowed him to use his gift to ‘keep an eye on things’ as well as help out with the tips. If he was more secure about his identity, he could have tried working in the casinos… but as it was, he supplemented his income now and then by playing the tables once he had a ‘feel’ for certain dealers.

No, it was enough that he could rest for a while after spending half his life on the run, could know the most pressing issue in his day was dealing with the morning rush and if he had enough cat litter for Shadow.

Oh, that and dealing with his coworkers trying to set him up with customers; Neil had never dated anyone, had never felt any desire to do so, especially with his circumstances. There’d been some interest on his part in kissing girls when he’d been younger, in figuring out why people wanted to do it… but between his mother’s reaction to what he’d done and him sensing the girls’ thoughts upon touching them - he hadn’t felt the impulse to do it again.

He certainly didn’t feel like doing it with any of the people who came into the store and smiled at him, who tried to talk to him and let their fingers linger when they handed him their money or cards, or when he handed them their drinks. A good many of them just wanted a body to use (he might not understand why, but he knew that much, especially when he could pick it up in their thoughts), and the rest had some unrealistic fantasy about him in their heads.

A couple had some very disturbing fantasies in their head.

“Come on, how can someone like you not really want to date another person?” Mel asked for what had to be the fiftieth time. “It’s such a shame.”

Neil shrugged and went back to wiping down the counter. “I’m not interested, okay?”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, just like she always did at his response, and settled her headset better over her braided, bright red hair. “I’m just trying to help you out, you know? You’re too young to be sitting at home all alone.”

“That’s why I have a cat,” Neil insisted.

All Mel did was give a weary sigh while Jorge, busy restocking, chuckled; the two of them huddled together by the drive-thru window shortly after that, probably to talk about Neil. He didn’t mind because he knew they were worried about him and trying to look after him in their own weird way.

One customer who didn’t try to hit on him all the time (or touch him) was Andrew, who appeared to be studying at the local university. He came in almost every day, a quiet presence who unnerved most of the staff with his impassive face and intent gaze. Yet Neil didn’t have a problem with him, not upon recognizing the guarded stance of someone who knew what it was like to be a target, that darkness in someone’s eyes which spoke of a childhood filled with pain and terror.

He didn’t know about Andrew’s past, but he suspected it hadn’t been much better than his own, so he treated the man politely and competently, even though he inwardly sighed and sometimes winced over the sugary concoctions he had to ring up - such as that day’s request for six extra pumps of caramel flavoring.

“Something wrong?” Andrew asked, his deep voice as impassive as ever.

“They’re your kidneys,” Neil replied before he could stop himself.

Yet Andrew always tipped well, despite comments like that (and ‘should I just give you the entire container of flavoring?’ or ‘want me to hold the coffee?’), and Neil was never bothered by the way the man’s hazel eyes stared at him the entire time Andrew was in the shop when if it was anyone else he’d be anxious and finding an excuse to touch them then flee.

He didn’t touch Andrew because… because it was clear that Andrew didn’t want to be touched. Because Andrew always kept a careful space between him and everyone else and set his card down instead of handing it over and motioned for his drink to be set down, too.

He didn’t think anything of the way that Andrew always came when he was working, or when Andrew started asking questions, such as noticing when he had cat hair on his shirt or when Mel finally made him pull his shoulder-length hair back.

Or when Andrew would comment on having been up all night working on a paper, or finished a book he liked. For some reason, Neil enjoyed hearing those little things, in finding things out the normal way.

“What’s going on with you and the short dude?” Mel asked as they prepared the store for opening one morning. “He doesn’t talk to anyone but you.”

“None of you want to wait on him, so of course he doesn’t,” Neil pointed out.

“That’s not an answer.” Mel gazed at him for several seconds before she clicked her tongue. “Of course,” she said, which didn’t explain much, then turned away to get the drive-thru ready.

Neil didn’t know what she meant until a week or so later, when Andrew went to pick up his drink (another sugary monstrosity) and nearly dropped it. Neil tried to help him catch it and… and their fingers brushed together, which prompted an image to appear in his head, an image of him with his back to the wall, all of his clothes gone (all of his scars gone) with Andrew on his knees and-

“You… you want to blow me?” Neil blurted out in shock despite the line of customers waiting behind Andrew (despite there being more to it than just the image).

“Yes,” Andrew said, the words forced out of him by the other part of Neil’s power, his hazel eyes wide with rare surprise. “What- how did-”

Neil didn’t stay to answer; he shouted out to Mel and Rick and Lana that he was taking a break then fled.

Mel tried to scold him for leaving the line like that, but didn’t give him too much grief given how obviously upset he was, that and he worked the rest of the shift without a break to make up for it. He didn’t see Andrew for the rest of the day and assumed that he must have scared the man off for good.

What he did was jinx himself with that thought, because Andrew was waiting for him when he left the store in the afternoon, the scent of cigarettes clinging to him stronger than usual as if he’d been standing outside chainsmoking for the last hour or two.

“You,” Andrew called out as he stepped forward. “We’re talking, now.”

Neil sighed as he ran his fingers through his dyed black hair and wondered if he’d have to leave Reno already, would have to buy a new identity and redye his hair and get new contacts and… he realized how much he’d settled into being Neil Josten, how much it would hurt to leave it behind.

“What’s to say?”

Andrew fell in step beside him and herded him toward an alley between a closed comic book store and a small tax firm. “A good bit, considering what happened earlier.” They stood across from each other in the shadow-filled space for a few seconds, gazes locked on each other and quiet, until Andrew sighed. “How did… do you have super powers?” Then he grimaced, another rare show of emotion. “I mean… how did you do that?”

Neil chewed on his bottom lip as he debated lying (his default for everything), on saying that he’d just guessed, but then Andrew continued speaking.

“Because I know I didn’t say anything.” His deep voice contained a hint of roughness, the only indication of how what he said bothered him. “So the only thing I can think of is you had some way to read my mind when you touched me.”

“That’s crazy.” Neil gave a crooked smile and fiddled with the cuffs of his long-sleeved hoody when he said that.

“Perhaps,” Andrew admitted. “But… but I was used to no one believing me for years, for no one listening to me, and then all it took was this one case worker looking at me and she seemed to know everything.” He rubbed at the black band around his left forearm while he shook his head. “So, are you like her?”

Neil slumped against the brick wall behind him while his mother’s voice raged inside of his head, yelling at him to never tell anyone what he was, about their power. Yet he’d already broken her rules by staying in one place, by daring to cobble together some sort of life.

“Yes,” he admitted in a quiet voice, and saw the tension in Andrew’s shoulders leech away slowly but surely; he knew from the touch earlier that Andrew wanted him (which he still didn’t quite understand) and was someone he could trust.

“What is it? What can you do?”

“It’s… I need to touch someone, but then I know their thoughts, know if they’re a danger to me or not.” Neil held up his bare right hand and waggled his fingers. “I can also make them tell me the truth. It’s not some big flashy thing like super-strength or lasers, sorry.”

Still, Andrew appeared mildly impressed. “It’s powerful enough.” For a moment there was something distant on his face before it became impassive once again. “Can you control it?”

“Eh?” Neil thought about it. “Somewhat, but I’m used to using it all the time.” He had to hold back on why that was so, but suspected that Andrew had realized more than he’d meant to say.

“All right then, we need gloves for you.” Andrew nodded as he slowly reached out to grab onto Neil’s left sleeve. “Come on.”

“Eh, where are going?”

“Dinner.”

Neil blinked in confusion as he was led down the street, toward a parking lot, and felt the urge to use his talent to find out what was going on. But that wouldn’t be right, would it? So he sighed and allowed Andrew to pull him along like a dog on a leash, very confused yet… yet it was Andrew. Huh. He found himself smiling as he went along with the perplexing young man.

*******

In this AU, the caseworker (psychic, obviously), stepped in for Andrew before he went to the Spears and he found a safe home to adopt him. Still means he suffered a lot of terrible homes, but he found a good one at last - so no Spears, no juvie, but no reason for him to go to Columbia. Also, no Exy.

Ah, I hope that was okay, anon?

#nekojitachanfics #200 writing prompts #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #psychic neil #andrew is determined here #i sorta got to use the one line

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fizzyxcustard · 6 years ago

Text

Mistake.

Requested to be re-uploaded from AO3 and my previous blog by @nowiloveandwilllove

AO3 page here.

Masterlist here

Pairings: Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader, Lee Pace x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Bad language

Notes/Comments: Any imagines can be requested as fics. Also any of my older fics from AO3 can be requested as re-posts. This was originally posted over 3 parts, but I’ve decided to just post it as a big one shot.

Follow Forever tag list: @himoverflowers @shikin83 @theincaprincess@deepestfirefun @nowiloveandwilllove @houseofrahl @mynameisnoneya1991@blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda @cd1242 @c-s-stars @thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink @inumorph @leah-halliwell92@greendragonette @msjava1972 @thequeenoferebor

You missed Richard. In every sense. His laugh, his voice, his touch. There was nothing about him you didn’t miss. You wanted to be held, kissed, made love to. And it was becoming frustrating. So much so that you were pleasuring yourself most nights, especially when you had been talking to him on the phone. He was currently filming Hannibal in Canada, and you had agreed to accompany Lee Pace, Richard’s friend and Hobbit co-star to Hobbit Con in Bonn, Germany.

The hustle and bustle of the convention centre kept you occupied. And since you had agreed not to directly communicate with Lee, you kept yourself out of the way and scoured through all the merchandise at the large halls. Richard and Lee had agreed that you being seen with Lee would arouse suspicions of something going on between you both, seeing as rumours of yours and Richard’s year long relationship had already surfaced in online forums and social media.

Nights were the worst. You lay in bed in your hotel room which was next door to Lee’s and cried. You reached into the empty space beside you, wanting Richard there.

On the last night of being in Germany, your flight home at eleven the following morning, you decided to go and spend time with Lee. He had become a good friend of yours also, and Richard specifically wanted you both to attend the convention together so you had company. Richard had used his subtle persuasion to get you a ticket to the event free of charge.

You knocked on Lee’s door and waited. Then the door opened and the huge form of Lee towered before you. “Hey, girl, I was just about to order some wine. Do you want to join me?” he asked, giving you a big smile.

“Yeah, okay,” you replied, walking into the room. It was a typical man’s room: clothes on the floor, clothes in the chair; laptop, phone and charger on the desk in an untidy heap.

Lee called downstairs on the phone next to the bed, ordering a large bottle of red wine for two. You sat in the chair opposite the bed, but first had to take his worn clothing from it. “Sorry,” he said, grabbing the clothing from you, a gentle blush of embarrassment washing his face. “I need to pack shortly. I haven’t had chance to catch up with you today. How are things?”

You began to speak as Lee threw his clothing into his open suitcase, now and again turning to look at you. “It was okay. I just miss Richard,” you admitted, putting your head down. “It’s hard being without him for long stints, especially at night.”

“I get that, I really do,” Lee answered. He stopped the task in hand and sat down on the bed, looking at you. “This was why he asked for you to come with me. He knows that you get a bit lonely, and wanted you to be doing something exciting. It’s a lonely life in general for an actor sometimes.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you replied.

Once the wine had arrived, Lee poured you a glass and offered it to you. You gladly took it from him, and allowed the warm liquid to glide down your throat, easing your tension. Your conversation continued, it mainly being around some of the fan questions Lee has been asked, and then his plans to go home to upstate New York to spend time with his dogs, and then begin work again.

“I know Richard wouldn’t mind but you're more than welcome to stay with me for a few nights if you want,” Lee offered. “The flight out was free with your ticket here anyway, and I can help with your flight back to the States. Don’t go back to England and be by yourself.”

You smiled at Lee, thankful for this thoughtful nature. He really had become a very close friend to you and Richard. By now you were sat on the bed next to him with your leg tucked under yourself. Without even realising the gap between you both had started to close. You wanted that comfort, that warmth, the intimacy. God, you missed Richard...with everything inside you.

“I don’t want to be on my own,” you whispered, looking at Lee.

“You don’t have to be,” he replied. And within a few seconds, his lips were against yours. Briefly you felt that long overdue warmth spread through you, but the cold, harsh reality of who you were kissing shot through your conscious mind like a bullet. And you gasped, pulling away from Lee.

***

Tension sat between you and Lee, becoming so tight that you could not breathe. Richard rang and text you every day, asking how you were and all you could do was lie and say everything was fine. Fine. Things were far from fine. You were staying at Lee’s home in upstate New York, not wanting to be alone, and all you could do was replay that haunting memory of kissing him, and it was ripping you apart with guilt and shame. Your need for companionship and intimacy had taken over, temporarily over ruling your love and devotion to Richard. But you had to tell him what had happened between you and Lee. There was no way you could hold it back from him; Richard deserved to know.

The day arrived, seeming to come around with lightning speed, when you were to see Richard back at his apartment. Lee had been kind enough to drive you down to the city, and the whole time you had been silent in the car, watching the buildings and vehicles flash past you in a motion stricken blur. “I’m going to tell him,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Who?” Lee asked, looking across at you.

You never even looked at Lee as you replied. “Richard. He needs to know what happened. I love him far too much to keep this from him, and if it means he breaks up with me, then so be it. I can’t lie to him and act as though everything is fine.”

“We could both potentially lose him,” Lee said sadly. “He’s a damn good friend to me.”

“And that’s why he needs to know, Lee. We both betrayed him, and I can’t live with myself and this weight.” You began to sob, seeing Richard’s face before your eyes as you closed them from the outside world. “I was stupid and weak, giving in to what I was craving.”

“We both were....”

Lee dropped you off outside Richard’s apartment block, saying his farewells to you. “It’ll all work out how it’s meant to,” he said with a sigh and then gave you a weak smile before helping you with your suitcase from the back of the car and then disappeared down the street.

You walked into the lobby of the apartment block, trying to avert eye contact from the staff there, and head to the elevator.

Your breathing became quicker and your palms sweat as you approached Richard’s apartment door, knowing he was inside. “Please, help me,” you prayed.

You knocked.

Richard’s bright smile greeted you and then he took your hand, gently pulling you inside. You choked back the tears as he took you in his arms, closing the door and then kissed you softly. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, brushing his hand down your face and smiling down at you, his blue eyes alight with so much happiness. You were about to break all of that apart.

“I...missed you, too,” you wept. Then you pulled away.

He whispered your name and wound his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “What’s the matter, angel?” His face was full of concern for you.

You looked up at him, breaking even further inside. “I kissed Lee,” you said, the words tumbling from your mouth in one stroke.

Richard’s eyes widened, and then his brow furrowed and he looked away, shifting from you. He turned his back to you, his head down.

“I’ll leave,” you said. “I’m sorry.” There was no consolation you could offer to the man you loved after such an act.

As you left the apartment quickly, pulling your suitcase behind you, you never spoke a further word to him, or he to you. But as you closed the door behind you, you jumped at the sudden sound of something smashing inside.

You looked up at the ceiling, feeling the tears flow down your cheeks, and you walked away.

***

You sat in a coffee shop two blocks away from Richard’s apartment and you stared out the window, watching the yellow cabs zip past. Everyone was going about their lives, not caring that you had broken your lover’s heart by being selfish and kissing his best friend just because you were lonely.

Suddenly your phone rang and Richard’s name flashed on the screen. Your heart leapt in your chest and you reached across the table to pick it up, your hand shaking. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply and answered. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asked simply. “Come back and we can talk. You have nowhere to go.”

“I’ll find somewhere,” you replied, sighing. “There are plenty of hotels.”

“No, you’ll come back,” he demanded. “I’ll come and find you if I have to. I’m not having you walking the streets when I have...” he stopped. “I have...a spare room.”

You could see the way this was going from here. Of course Richard didn’t intend to continue your relationship; he felt that he needed to make sure you were safe until you could get home, continuing to be the gentleman he naturally was.

The conversation drifted off as an awkward silence weighed heavily between you both. Until Richard spoke again. “Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

You knew full well that Richard would not stand down so easily; in the rare times that you had argued or debated, he stood up to you and would not back down, and this was going to be one of those times. You sensed it, and with another sigh, you told him where you were.

And ten minutes later he appeared at the door, stepping inside and looked around the almost empty coffee shop. His eyes fell on you as you sat alone on the right hand side of the building next to the window with a still full mug of chai coffee at your arm.

Richard never ordered anything and sat opposite you. You couldn’t even look him in the eye, still ashamed of your betrayal.

“Look at me, please,” he whispered.

Hearing his voice with a pleading edge made you cry, and in response, to your amazement, he took your hand. “There are things you aren’t telling me,” he said, and that was when you finally looked at him. The guilt was consuming you. How could you have betrayed the very man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with? The man you hoped one day would be your husband and father of your children. Did he even want that with you?

“I miss you when you’re not with me, and I know I’m selfish to expect you to be with me all the time...but we’re apart for weeks at a time, and I love you...” you sobbed, feeling his hand tighten around yours. “I wanted your warmth, to be able to lie next to you, curl up in your arms. I’m so alone without you.”

You were terrified at Richard’s response to your confession and you looked at him, bracing yourself. But he just smiled weakly at you, nudging in closer so he was leaning across the table.

“I’ve contemplated asking you a few times if you’d travel with me. But I...” he stopped and swallowed hard. “I...erm, wasn’t sure if you were serious enough to want to.”

“Of course I’m serious about you. Why didn’t you think I was?” you said loudly, not caring if any of the other customers heard.

“I’ll be straight with you: when we met, I didn’t want a relationship. My job was everything; I’ve had opportunities given to me and I wanted to pursue them, and I didn’t care about much else. But deep down I want to settle down, angel, and maybe I’ve been scared I’d never find it. I feel I have...with you. I didn’t know if you wanted what I do from the relationship.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’d be happy to come with you wherever you go. And I want us to be settled as well. More than anything.”

Richard leaned further across the table and kissed you softly. Then he drew away, looking you in the eyes. “Forgive yourself for what’s happened. You told me straight, and that shows how honest you are. Let’s move on.”

#Richard armitage #lee pace #real person fiction #fanfiction #writing #request #repost from original blog #Richard armitage x reader #Richard armitage x you #Richard armitage x fem!reader #lee pace x reader #lee pace x you #lee pace x fem!reader #kissing another man

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beyondconfessor · 6 years ago

Text

Visceral

[10/20]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Psychological Torture, implied/referenced tortured, violence

Pairing: Sara Lance/Alex Danvers

Summary: Alex wasn’t welcome anymore

N.B.: Also posted on AO3

Alex awoke to her teeth chattering. Her jaw ached from it. Despite her attempts, she couldn’t stop it. Drawing her knees closer, she tried to fall back to sleep, but even that was fitful. Like she was on the edge of sleep, in the darkness of it, but not quite. A violent shudder hit her spine as her shirt rose up, exposing her skin to the concrete.

Her whole body felt cold and wet. No, not wet, damp.

Why didn’t she take the extra moments to change into her suit? The armour would have kept her both dry and warm. She may have lost the tail of that van, but she’d lost it anyway in the end.

Alex tried again to stop shaking. For a few moments she succeeded before it began again.

Who was she kidding, there was no way she would have allowed herself to lose those valuable minutes in tailing. If she had just remained focus on the mission, had considered her plans and learnt to map the city better, maybe she could have worked out a faster route. She already had National City mapped out like it was floor plan of her apartment. It was basic tactics, the very basic, know your terrain.

Rookie mistake.

Alex stopped, drawing in a breath for herself. It wouldn’t be long before Winn called in for a missing alert on her. The car was fitted with a tracking device, he’d be able to track it to her last known location and from there, it was only a matter of time until the place was stormed by DEO Agents. And Supergirl.

Her eyes stung, and she couldn’t tell if it exhaustion or just frayed nerves. She wasn’t going to get to sleep again, any time soon. She should do something, try to, at least.

Sitting up, Alex felt at the chains that bound her, tugging at the links to feel for any weak spots. If there were, she wasn’t strong enough to break them.

The cuffs felt rudimentary. If she had a hair pin, maybe she could work out unlocking them, though the position she was in would make it awkward.

Alex felt her limbs, moving them with care to investigate them for any damage. Her legs felt bruised but not broken. Ribs hurts, but they were probably fractured. There was definitely something, a bump, or scratched skin at least, on her forehead, but everything else seemed superficial. Everything was sore, but she was used to sore.

Using only her legs, she rose onto her feet to look around the room.

Her body still violently shook from the cold, but just out of reach, she found a blanket on the far side of the room, to east side, if she considered the door to be her ‘north’. It was just out of reach. Alex tried to use her feet to reach for it, then, getting onto her side again, she tried to reach further, even as her arms began to be pulled by the chains, straining in the position as they were tugged the wrong way.

She exhaled, dropping back and then curled upon herself again.

The room had no windows, and from what she could see, no light came from underneath the door that she could see. Sometimes she heard something. The distant sound of a slammed metal door, but it seemed otherwise quiet.

The warehouse she was being kept seemed deserted, and maybe it was. There was no way for her to tell at this time.

Over the last few hours –– days? –– Alex would find herself not quite sleeping, but suddenly awakening in the darkness, unsure how much time had passed. It couldn’t be long, the body only lasted so long without heat and water. She tried for the blanket again. Failed.

Her clothes, from her own body heat, eventually did dry, though the edges, the hemlines and the collar of her shirt, remained damp. Maybe they were just cold. Everything was cold. If there was a light, she imagined that she could see her breath exhale her body.

During a moment where Alex’s mind was lulled, the door opened. She flinched away, and stared as light flooded in front of her eyes, burning them. The chain was removed from the centre of the room, and a strong arm wretched her to her feet.

Alex’s stomach hurt, her mouth felt dry and a headache threatened to top her over, but she squinted through the light as she was manhandled down a hall, despite her hissing breaths as her ribs complained about the movement. All the while her chains rattling like some Victorian prison ghost.

She was placed into a bright room, on a plastic chair that looked generic. Her chains were secured in front of her, to a metal table, draping over her knees.

Alex thought about sleeping. Above her, the light flickered, making a clicking noise loud enough to draw her thoughts to it. It grated on her nerves, the flickering light, bright and then dark, done-so purposefully, she suspected to make her agitated.

She drew her thoughts away from it, shutting her eyes and thinking about falling asleep. Thinking about her bed at home, and what it felt like lying upon it.

She thought about Sara, about Winn and J’onn and Kara. Kara would find her, Alex didn’t doubt it.

The door opened, on the opposite side of the room that she’d entered in with. It wasn’t Veronica who entered, but someone else. A man dressed in a long, thick coat. On his shoulder, and his boots, Alex could see flakes of snow. Had she been moved further north into Canada?

“Good morning, Agent,” the man said, his accent accented from the Russian tongue.

The man undid his jacket, lying it on the back of his chair as he sat down. There was knife on his belt, but no gun. From underneath his collar, she could see a very small black smudge, a tattoo perhaps?

Mafia, gang, ex-military, whoever he was, he was certainly dealing with Roulette.

“You know,” he said, “in this country, we reply when someone says ‘good morning’.”

Alex didn’t respond. She didn’t buy it for a second that she’d somehow, for some random reason, been taken to Europe. She also didn’t like the way the man studied her why he spoke, as if she were a specimen.

“I shall be quick, then,” the man said. “Ms Roulette would be very pleased if you were to hand over the secrets of Supergirl. Just a few, unimportant facts. Then we’d be up for possibly exchanging you for one our own. Good, decision, yes?”

Again, Alex remained quiet, unwilling to say anything. She knew how negotiation and interrogation tactics worked. The less you said, the harder it was to read you and she was determined to make it damn hard to read her.

The man watched her, his eyes running from her head, to her shoulders, down her arms to her hands. He was still looking at her like a specimen, and Alex wondered if he was a medical doctor. At the DEO, she would run the same observations while interrogating. But she didn’t pick Roulette to be someone who cared for prisoner welfare. Exploitation of weakness, looking to see where he could hurt her best, maybe?

The man rose from his chair, placing his jacket back on. “I shall speak to Ms Roulette, perhaps some time alone with allow you to consider this proposal,” he told her, adjusting his clothes, before walking back to the door.

Alex was left in the room for what seemed to be another half an hour, or more. The fluorescent light that hung above continued to flicker enough that it grated on her nerves. The room also seemed more frigid that the one she’d been in before, and she continued to shake for warmth.

The door behind her opened, the chains were unsecured from the desk as she was picked up onto her feet. Alex hissed in pain, but made no other sound. She wanted nothing more than to drive her elbow into the underling’s face, but she wouldn’t. She wasn’t in a state to fight, and as she gave the person a once over, she found them lacking any weapons she could turn back on them.

Maybe she could use her own chains, but that would involve having to have the dexterity to avoid being caught, and the strength to pull back at the chains, neither of which she had at this time. Despite the pain, which she could work through, her body had limits and she’d felt in walking. She wanted to walk faster, wanted to be careful in her steps, not have to partially lean against the person’s hold on her, but her body was blocked. Her legs would not lift as high, they would just stop and then fall back to the ground as if something had restrained them, as if her sockets just needs a little more oil in them to move.

Alex was placed in a dark room again, it seemed to be the same, it seemed to have the same blanket and bucket. But near where her chains were, there was a cup of water, with what looked to be soup from a can, gelatinous in form as it hadn’t been melted down into liquid. Beside that was a stale, but not undesirable looking bread roll.

She stared at it as her chains were re-attached to the welded, thick link in the centre of the room. One Alex had already pried her fingers across in what seemed to have been some darkness ago.

When the person left, Alex hesitated at consuming the food. It could be poisoned, or at the very least, drugged. The room was too dark to see if it’d been tampered with in any obvious way, and she couldn’t make any smells out over her own grimy body and the strong oily, metal smell that the room had.

Her stomach gnawed, even at the cold, gelatine-like soup, and her throat was sore enough, dry enough that her tongue felt thick and coarse in her mouth, that she wasn’t even sure if she cared if the drink was drugged.

Except she knew better than most what kind of drugs were available for interrogation. Hallucinogens were the most obvious. It was easy to make someone suggestible, to transplant an idea, appear to be somewhere else, someone else if Veronica wasn’t able to get a shape-shifting alien. Or it could just be drugged with something make her violently ill, fear and pain were often good motivators for sadist interrogators, but sickness, feeling your body empty again and again with no relief for days, when muscles clenched…that was a good motivator too.

She doubted that Veronica would go to all this trouble only to dispose of her within the first few days, so poison at least was off the table. Nonetheless, poison in small doses could still make her sick and a part of her wondered if she was really in a state to be making educated guesses, no matter how well she’d been trained.

And yet, God she was thirsty. Her throat hurt, her tongue felt dry, even her teeth ached.

Given that, it could only be the first few days going by how thirsty she was. Probably two, though it could be more. Sitting on stakeout had given her plenty of time to drink plenty of water. They could have kept her hydrated with an IV when she was under. She wouldn’t even know, her whole body was cut up and beaten, even if she had any light to look for a single prick.

Not that that mattered, she still was playing twenty-questions with a cup of water, wondering if it was drugged. Not that she could really see a motive in drugging it. After-all, if Veronica really wanted to drug her, all she had to do was get one of her goons to stab her with a needle. It’d be quick, easy. Alex might fight them, but with her strength at the moment, she wasn’t much of a fighter. A nuance, at best, against Roulette’s goons.

But that didn’t really say that there wasn’t drugs in it. It’d still be easier to dose her through food and water than to get a needle.

God, maybe it was just another form of psychological torture, like this room, the promise the man had made. Was the food drugged, or not. Would it make her sick, or not. Did she care enough or not?

Alex took a chance and drank the water. It tasted normal enough. Then she decided to at least keep her strength up, so she ate the soup, despite how the thick, congealed texture felt against her tongue and then sliding down her throat was enough that she gagged twice.

It took her back to her college days when she had up-ended a can of soup, only for the soup matter to remain in the shape of the can inside of the pot she’d been planning to cook her dinner in. After that, it’d been instant noodles for a while in her share-house, maybe a few vegetables and greens when her mother paid her a visit and stocked up her fridge. It was probably the same type of soup. Some chicken and corn made mostly of cooked bones and fat.

Veronica could have left her starve, or given her scraps to eat. Clearly she wanted her to be strong enough for something, even if the food was as cold as the room.

Alex stopped eating as the thought came to her. She was on the scraps of the bowl, pushing bread around the edges as she ate it and considered her future. Whatever they had planned, she needed to beat them to the punch first, or at the very least, be prepared for it.

But how did you prepare for the unknown?

She pushed at the bowl and cup, felt over the tray as she considered her options. Training had always been simple: what can you do to fix the most immediate problem, and what do you need to do the rest? The answer became clear. Her most immediate problem was the cold, so first, she was going to reach out, and grab that fucking blanket, then, she was going to work out every inch of the room.

She was in pain, she was angry, she was a DEO Agent. She could survive long enough to work out how to escape from Roulette’s claws.

Inching back to welded loop in the middle of the room, she felt around and straightened every link in the chain so that when it pulled taught, she had a greater reach for the blanket. Then, using the empty tray between her feet, she used it as an additional foot and a half of length to reach out, towards the blanket and pull it closer.

Inch it closer.

Alex felt her arms strain, but she was not going to shake her way through the cold for another unending length in the darkness.

Fuck that.

Finally, when the blanket was well up, under her calves, she stopped. Her body dropped, allowing her arms to relax, feeling her muscles complain even still as she the chain slackened against the ground. She wasn’t quite there yet, but that at least felt like she’d done something.

When she could move again, she pulled the blanket up, using her feet again, until it was under her hips, and then, just in reach of fingers until she could grasp it and tug it up.

Alex sighed, feeling the coarse material in her grip. It was hers. It was hers, she won. She wasn’t going to go cold again.

Exhaling a shuddered breath, as every inch of herself seemed to be burning with one pain or another, she inched herself into a position where she could pull the blanket over her body, even as it felt like steel wool against every inch of skin it touched. She didn’t care.

She also didn’t care that it was inexplicably stiff in certain parts of the blanket, or that it stunk of mildew, even though it felt dry enough. She could feel her jaw relax, her body’s shakes going to tremors as she curled up underneath it in an awkward foetal position, somehow managing to cover most, if not all of her self.

Alex felt her head ease as her body finally started becoming warm enough. Even in the uncomfortable position, even though her shoulders ached, her neck ached everything wasn’t quite comfortable enough. Even then as a distant panic, like a bell ringing in the distant, seemed to say No, we need to—!

Alex eased.

As her body stopped shaking for the first time, she felt the darkness welcome her back as she fell asleep, despite every physical and emotional reason not to.

Despite…

Alex opened her eyes into a bedroom.

It was the same sparsely decorated, if with a few weapons lying around, room she recalled the first time she had dreamscaped herself the Waverider. Her eyes drew around the room, to a scrunched up ball of paper on the floor, to the hand it must have come from, to Sara’s face.

Alex felt her chest shudder. Her heart clenched at the very sight of her at the same time her body seemed to just ease, as if she was both skittish and excited, like some puppy, at the sight of Sara Lance sleeping in her bed. There was a gentleness to image, one that gave a pertinent feeling of wanting to lie down beside her and just forget about the cold floor and metal manacles on her wrists.

As if sensing her energy, Sara’s eyes opened and met Alex’s, not unlike they had that first time. Her face almost smiled and then froze, easing back to a neutral expression as she sat up.

“Hi,” Alex said, and the word seemed to stretch out with corners of her mouth. She might as well have waved her hand.

For a moment, Sara didn’t say anything, she just stared, unblinking until every muscle in Alex’s body, one-by-one, began to tense, she could feel her spine lengthen with a drawn breath. Finally, when Alex felt like an attack was imminent, Sara spoke.

“You’re Mallus,” she said, anger thundered in the words.

“Sorry?”

“You’re Mallus,” Sara repeated again, “or Nora, or whoever. I know that this whole thing has been a ––” Sara’s voice cut off, shoulders sagging. “I know that you’re not real.”

Not real. The whispered words echoed in her ears.

“People in glass houses,” Alex said. There was a lilt, a slip of humour that faded away. She remembered the dark-haired woman in the blue world, smiling at her, telling her that Mallus would be pleased. Fuck her. Whoever she was.

“This isn’t a glass house, Alex,” Sara spat. “This is your one and only warnings to get the hell out of my head and off my ship.”

“But you’re my dream. My…hallucination, or creation of my subconscious or wh- You can’t just kick me out of my own dreams!”

“Right. Sure. Well, whatever you mean by that doesn’t add up to everything else. You’re Mallus, I know you’re him because you were in my mind. Even if this is that astral projection crap, there’s no way that –– you’re not Alex Danvers.” Sara face twisted between heartbroken and furious. “So cut the crap before I beat the truth out of you.”

“I’m not Mallus!” Alex said. “I’m not…trying to trick you, or anything like that. You don’t…” she paused, her face scrunching up as she tried to think of what caused the shift in their relationship. But that was obvious. The blue-scape, the dream world where the Other Sara had been, where that dark-haired woman had been. Alex could feel the guilt, like hot stickiness in her gut.

“Sara, you don’t have to believe me. But I want you to know…” She wondered at the point in even trying to explain it and then decided that this truth, at least, deserved to be said even if fell on deaf ears. “I want you know that what terrified me about seeing the real, the assassin, part of you –– what disgusted me –– it wasn’t because it was your history. It wasn’t even because it was you or how you acted. I mean it frightened me but that’s because I’m…” her throat closed around the words. She couldn’t say them.

She couldn’t even confess to herself.

“I’m a DEO Agent,” Alex explained instead. “And to ensure the safety of my Earth from extraterrestrial life I don’t always get to be the good guy. The job that came with taking on Kara as my responsibility means that I have to be the person that makes those decisions, so that she doesn’t have to. Even if the person I-I do that to has a family that they’re just trying to protect. Even if they’re not the bad guy, just in the wrong place, working for the wrong person or because…because I was ordered to. And I’m used to been given orders to do that, to kill,” she swallowed as she said the words, feeling it stick in her throat. “Orders I knew were right, or wanted to believe were, and maybe I don’t have to make them as much because Kara can just.swoop right in and save the day… But I used to. I used to do it a lot to keep her safe and you, that you, I didn’t want to see myself there.”

Sara stared at her. Her lips pursed. There was no understanding or conviction. Just a cold, blank slate before she looked away.

“I still believe what I said, about the difference between an assassin and a government agent. I didn’t realise it was so…”

Alex trailed off, hearing the hollowness of the words, despite knowing their sincerity. It didn’t matter what the truth was, Sara wasn’t listening to her anymore and Alex could find the words for herself. There was nothing she could do.

She felt the fight drop from herself.

Through it all, Sara didn’t say a word. And with that, Alex knew she wasn’t welcome here anymore.

It was just a dream, she decided whilst allowing herself to unbind from the dreamscape, and slip away, back into the darkness.

Just a dream.

The world felt cold again.

#alex danvers #sara lance #agency canary #supergirl fanfic #legends of tomorrow fanfic #supergirl #legends of tomorrow #morgans fics

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