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rons-wheezely · 3 years ago

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224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him.

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.”

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is.

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once.

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…”

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.”

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile.

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love.

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films.

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you.

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?”

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you.

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

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dumdumsun · 3 years ago

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And Dusk

A/N: It's family dinner time, babes!!

Warnings: none that I'm aware of

Word Count: 3629

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Chapter 12: Team Zero

Striding into the steam-clouded sauna where the two remaining Swedish assassins now silently relaxed, The Handler began an unprompted conversation in their language. “All the new age remedies out there, but nothing beats a good schvitz when it comes to stress,” As she sat on the bench, the two men carefully watched her. “My job can be stressful, sure. But I can’t imagine what it must be like for you boys.” She batted her eyelashes.

“Do we know you?” The Swede, who appeared to be the leader, questioned. The Handler kept her head turned forward as she stared down.

“No. But I know all about you,” Standing from the bench, she quietly chuckled and walked to the center of the sauna, the steam crawling its way up to her neck. “However, seems you’ve run into some problems on this job.”

“Just a snag.” He tilted his head.

“You lost your brother. I’d call that more than a snag.”

Snapping, the second Swede pushed off the wall and marched up to The Handler. Before he could get too close, he grunted when she grabbed hold of his manhood, freezing his steps. She watched as his mouth fell open in pain. “What if I can give you the location of the knife-hurling dolt responsible for blowing up your beloved brother?”

The first Swede tilted his head. “Who are you?”

“Somebody you’re going to want to know.” Her eyes never left the man she was assaulting. The second Swede finally found the breath within him to speak.

“Unharm my weiner.” He wheezed in English, The Handler kindly doing as he asked, a smile on her face. He sighed and stepped away as his brother held up the hand that had been twirling a knife the entire time.

“Go on.”

At his words, she turned to him. “I’ll give you the exact location of the one you’re looking for. Diego. The rest… I’ll leave up to your imaginations.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Let’s just say that his little game of ‘Hide the Sausage’ with my daughter needs a swift end. I just have one request,” The Handler approached the first Swede, the two in close proximity now. He watched her every move. “Don’t hurt the little one with the cute socks… and the other with the face scars.”

Lifting his chin, he furrowed his brows. “We’ve already killed her.” He mumbled. She only chuckled in amusement, the two men stiffening at the realization that their target may not have been executed like they thought.

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

The clicking of Reginald and (Y/N)’s shoes against the marble floor echoed throughout the hallway they walked down. The young girl was desperately trying to keep up with her father’s long strides, her puppy in her arms and her heart beating out of her chest. If they had actually complied, she was going to reveal her true whereabouts for the past two years to her family. They were going to know that the entire time they had been looking for Reginald, she was living under the same roof as him. No matter how many times she swallowed the lump in her throat, it always swelled right back up. “D-Dad, who are these people we’re having dinner with?”

“These people have been nothing but a nuisance to me.”

Her mind flashed back to the night of the gala. Diego had been there with Five. They were there for Reginald, to find out his intentions with the president. To find out what he was doing in Dallas in the first place. Reginald was a secretive man, he didn’t even let Grace or (Y/N) into his office unless he was present as well. Her stomach twisted in knots of anxiety the closer they approached the door to the tiki lounge. When Reginald stopped just before the doors, he turned to his daughter and lowered his voice. “When we enter, you are to sit and remain silent. Do not speak to them, do not interact with them. Sit and shut your mouth unless I tell you otherwise. And your pet remains on the floor or in your lap. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered and held Mr Pennycrumb close to her chest, the pup quietly panting and licking her cheek. That seemed to be enough for Reginald, for he nodded and turned forward, slamming the door open and marching into the lounge.

The Hargreeves stood dumbfounded at their father as he headed straight to the table they surrounded, not a word leaving his mouth. None of them had expected to see him ever again, especially not after the funeral they had attended back in 2019. But what they really didn’t expect to see was (Y/N) right behind him, her eyes avoiding them as she absentmindedly pat Mr Pennycrumb under his chin. She especially avoided looking at Five, whose jaw was dropped upon her appearance. The real kick was when Reginald pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Without even a peep, she sat down and allowed him to scoot her closer to the table before taking his own seat. The five blinked once before taking their own seats at the table.

“Not only have you burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose, conned your way into the Mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked not only me, but my daughter as well, but you have, on numerous occasions, called me-”

Klaus joined the table with a grunt, a martini in his hand. “Hey, Pop. How’s it hangin’?”

“-‘Dad’,” Reginald gave everyone a once over as (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably under the stares of her family. “My reconnaissance tells me you’re not CIA, not KGB, certainly not MI5, so… who are you?”

(Y/N) watched as they all glanced at each other, opening their mouths to answer, but quickly closing them instead. This went on for a few seconds before Five decided to do it, “We’re your children. We’re from the future. In 1989, you adopted us all and trained us to fight against the end of the world. Called us the Umbrella Academy.”

Reginald turned his head from left to right, frowning at each individual. “Why on earth would I adopt six-”

“Eight. One of us isn’t here.” Allison clasped her hands together on the table.

“Dead,” Diego muttered, his head bowed down. “One of us is dead.”

“And the eighth?” Reginald questioned. (Y/N) cleared her throat and began to speak, but stopped when he sent a cold glare her way. “What did we talk about?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, I… I’m the eighth. I’m also your child from the future. You just… got me very early this time-”

“(Y/N), it is not the time for your games-”

“It’s not a game! W-Why do you think I’ve been leaving my dates with Preston to be with them?” At the words ‘dates’ and ‘Preston’, Five leaned forward, eyes narrowed at his love. She glanced at him apologetically and shook her head. Reginald was just about to scold her yet again, but she rolled the sleeve of her shirt up to reveal the umbrella tattoo on her left arm. “Did you forget about this?”

“Yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba. Enough of that now.” Klaus hissed and turned behind him. Everyone froze and stared at him in confusion. Turning forward again, he simply motioned for Reginald to continue. Uneasy, he did just that.

“Regardless,” His gaze turned back to Five. “What would possess me to adopt… seven ill-mannered malcontents?”

“We all have special abilities.” The boy answered.

“Special? In what sense?”

(Y/N) set her pet on the ground and sat up in her seat. “In the superpowered sense.” She raised her brows. Reginald sighed and clenched his jaw.

“My child, if you do not stay out of this as we agreed, I am going to have to send you to the car with your mother-”

“Dad! I am being so serious when I tell you I am one of them!”

“Well, call me old-fashioned, but I’m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence,” He turned back to the table. “Show me. All of you.”

Allison scoffed and adjusted the straw in her drink. “Everybody wants to see powers all of a sudden…”

“We’re not circus animals, okay?” Luther spoke. “We’re not gonna bounce balls on our noses and clap our hands like seals for your amusement-”

As if on cue, Diego launched a knife across the table, zipping around Reginald’s head and pinning itself into the pillar behind him. The seven leaned in and watched as the man clicked his pen and began writing in his journal. “What are you writing?” Diego asked. Reginald glanced up at him.

“You are zero for two, young man.” He quipped, Allison sputtering her drink before Diego jumped up from his seat in anger. To prevent anything disastrous from occurring, Five stood and blinked in front of his brother, halting his movement and whispering a ‘stop!’ to him. “Now, that is interesting.” Reginald muttered.

Five sighed and headed back towards his seat. “Alright, uh, quick rundown. Luther: super strength. Klaus can commune with the dead. Allison can rumor anyone to do anything.”

“Except she never uses it.” Diego muttered. Allison removed her lips from her straw and sent a tight-lipped smile towards her brother.

“I heard a rumor… you punched yourself in the face.”

Against his will, Diego rammed his fist into his face, crying out and groaning in pain immediately after. Klaus reached over and tried to comfort him as (Y/N) and Vanya ducked their heads down to hide their smiles. Reginald glanced over at the latter. “And you?”

Luther placed a hand on his sister’s arm with a smile. “Uh, maybe we don’t take Vanya for a test run.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably not a good idea.” Klaus sat back in his chair.

“It’s fine,” Vanya shrugged, reaching for a fork. “I can handle it.” And despite her siblings’ protests, she tapped the fork against her glass. A high-pitched tone rang and shook the table. (Y/N) held her breath as she waited for the worst. A beat later, the bowl of fruit in the center of the table exploded, chunks of fruit splattering against everyone’s clothes and faces. (Y/N) tried to dodge as Mr Pennycrumb jumped into her lap, happily licking the food from her scarred cheeks and chin.

Reginald sighed along with his future children as he handed his only actual daughter a napkin to clean herself. Adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, he side-eyed her. “Alright, my child, show me.”

Not even hesitating, (Y/N) stood and placed her pup in her father’s lap, despite his clear distaste, and straightened her clothes. “Alright. So, I can clone myself. To both summon and dismiss these clones, I have to sing two distinct three-note tunes.” To prove her point, she ‘ooh’ed her first tune, her clone appearing from her shadow, standing with a blank stare. Reginald raised his brows and began writing in his journal. “These clones not only share a conscience with me, but function as muscle and spies.”

“Spies?” Reginald frowned.

“They’re able to record their memories for me to look over in my own mind. Over the past year, I’ve come to learn that I can view these memories in real time. They also function to fulfill any task I command them.” Turning to her clone, she placed her hands on her hips. “Pick up Pennycrumb’s leash,” She commanded, the clone immediately doing as it was told. “I’ve also recently learned that I can give them the ability to talk. But if I wanted to… oh, I don’t know… attend a date with a certain boy without actually being there, I can project my consciousness into its body.”

After taking a seat, (Y/N) immediately slumped in her chair, unconscious. The clone beside her perked up and blinked twice before turning to Reginald. The man leaned forward to inspect it, but jumped back when it spoke. “But if something prevents my clones from fulfilling their task, they will start to self-destruct after twelve hours if said task isn’t completed. This is done by tearing into its own flesh and ripping itself apart.”

At this, everyone shivered.

“Right. It’s terrifying,” The clone returned to its blank and empty shell before (Y/N) raised her head. “And to dismiss, I hum the tune from earlier in its descending order.” She demonstrated said tune, the clone disappearing into her shadow. Mr Pennycrumb excitedly jumped from Reginald to her lap, nuzzling into her arm. “Any questions, Dad?”

Reginald was hastily scribbling into his journal. “Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary… And even more so that you’ve managed to keep this power from me for over a year.” He whispered. Turning her head, she caught Five’s proud smile. She winked at him as Diego stood from his seat.

“Look, we know that you’re involved in a plot to assassinate the president.”

“You were recently hospitalized, isn’t that correct? You still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”

“Am I?” Diego reached into his back pocket and slid a picture over to his father. “Explain this. That’s you. That’s two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact spot the president’s gonna get shot.”

Reginald picked up the photo and scanned it before his eyes moved to his daughter, the girl slightly shrinking under his gaze. Receiving his answer to the question he was to ask her, he turned back to Diego and set the photo down. “Well… I suppose you’ve solved it. You’ve single-handedly unearth my nefarious plot,” The smile Diego wore slowly faded. “Is that what you want to hear? You fancy yourself a do-gooder? The last good man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy? This is a fantastic delusion.” The more Reginald tore into him, the lower Diego sat himself into his chair until his lips were quivering and a tear slid down his cheek. “The sad reality is that you’re a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. More succinctly, a man in over his head.”

“Y-Y-You’re wr… wrong.” Diego stuttered. (Y/N) shakily inhaled and slammed her hand onto the table, alerting the rest of her siblings.

“Don’t you ever talk to him like that!”

“And you!” Reginald whirled to his daughter, the girl flinching a bit. “You have done nothing but deceive me! I half expect you to tell me that the man you chose over Preston sits among us!”

(Y/N)’s gaze instantly found Five’s. His green orbs were pleading, begging her to say it.

Tell him. Tell him you love me. Shout it from the rooftops, promise that you’ll always believe in us. Tell him.

But she couldn’t. Not when her doubts sealed her lips shut and casted her eyes away from him. The siblings stared between the two, heartbroken for their situation. Seeing that she chose to be ashamed, Five nodded and cleared his throat to speak. “Look, forget about the president. We have a catastrophic war coming in five days. We need to figure out how to stop it.”

“War?” Reginald looked away from his daughter and to the boy across from him. “Men will always be at war with each other.”

“No, this isn’t just some war. I’m talking about a doomsday. The end of the world.”

“Well,” Reginald muttered after a beat of silence. “You’re the special ones, aren’t you? Why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

Expecting much, much more than that, all seven of them frowned. This was what Reginald wanted from the start, for them to come together as the Umbrella Academy and prevent the end of the world. But it had been almost two weeks and two apocalypses managed to form due to their actions. That was why they couldn’t.

Grunting, Klaus suddenly raised both his arms in the air and shook uncontrollably, choking out gasps and jerking his body. (Y/N) gasped and slowly reached out to him.

“Is he having a seizure?”

“Overdosing, probably…”

“Should we do something?”

Whipping her head to Luther, (Y/N) widened her eyes. “Yes!” She shouted before turning back to Klaus as he shuddered. “Shit, what if he is overdosing?!”

“Klaus,” Five leaned over and whispered. “Now is not the time. What are you doing?”

Gurgling, Klaus turned his body to Reginald, face contorted in discomfort. “I’m… Ben!” He gasped out before falling to the ground, panting and groaning. (Y/N) rushed to his side and placed a hand on his forehead.

“Klaus? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” She whispered as he reached up and weakly wrapped a hand around her wrist. Reginald looked from Klaus, to (Y/N), then to his journal before he gathered his things.

“Well… thank you for coming,” He stood from his chair and began to walk away, stepping over Klaus’s body. “I’ve seen about enough. Come along, (Y/N), your mother is waiting for us.”

A loud slam sounded, causing everyone in the room to turn to Luther, who stood and ripped his buttoned shirt open. (Y/N) covered her mouth when he revealed his discolored bare chest and abdomen. “Look at what you did to me! Look at it!”

As the siblings groaned and gawked, Reginald simply turned his attention to Five. “You in the culottes. A word, in private? (Y/N), to the car. This instant.”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered before giving Klaus a kiss on the forehead and standing to her feet. Five walked by her side in silence until they had to split ways. Reginald turned to the both of them, and just when (Y/N) was going to turn out of the lounge, Five grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to her lips. Gasping, the girl brushed her fingertips over her lips as her face burned. She watched Reginald for a reaction, but he only motioned for her to leave. “Bye, Five.” She grinned behind her hand and hurried away.

“This way, boy.” Reginald brought Five’s attention back to him, leading the two of them to the bar. After they took their seats and he ordered their drinks, Reginald turned to his future son. “You seem to be the sensible one of the bunch.”

“That’s because I’m the oldest,” Five nodded, Reginald tilting his head. “You know, technically, I’m older than you right now.”

Reginald turned forward when the bartender set down a bottle in front of him. “Cognac?”

“Just a smidge.” Five slightly smiled. As he poured their drinks, Reginald started their subject of conversation.

“The other night, you quoted Homer at me. Why?”

Five shifted in his seat and straightened his blaser. “You forced us all to learn it as kids. In the original Greek, no less.” He raised his brows before a glass was passed to him. He and his father did a silent cheer before he took a gulp of it. The entire situation was so jarring to the boy, but as he said before, he didn’t choose this life. He’s just living it. For the next few days, anyway. “This world ends in five days if we don’t get out of the timeline.”

“Worlds end. Paleozoic, Jurassic, and so on.”

“We can do something about this one.”

“Man’s greatest flaw: the illusion of control.”

The boy frowned. “I need your help. Alright? You’re my last sane option. Otherwise, I gotta make a deal that I really don’t wanna make. What do you know about time travel?”

“In theory?”

“In practice.”

Reginald hummed. “I know it’s akin to descending blindly into the depths of freezing waters and reappearing-”

“-as an acorn. Yeah.” Five finished with a sigh.

“What transpired when you tried traveling before?”

The boy blinked and shook his head as he looked away. “I botched it…”

“How?”

“I jumped too far forward, got stuck in the future for forty-five years in an apocalypse. Then I jumped too far backwards… except this time, I brought my entire family with me.”

Reginald tapped his fingers against the bar as he clicked his tongue. “Including (Y/N)?” He questioned, receiving a nod in answer. “Well, maybe your appetite is disproportionate to the size of your abilities. Start small. Seconds, not decades.”

“Seconds?” Five widened his eyes. “Look, no offense, but I need a bit more time for what I’m trying to accomplish here.”

“So much can change in a matter of seconds. One can overthrow an empire,” His eyes moved from Five to the doorway (Y/N) had been standing in seconds ago unbeknownst to Five. “One could fall in love. An acorn doesn’t become an oak overnight.”

Five swallowed, his expression that of defeat. “I was really hoping you had more than that.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help…”

Five shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, too. I gave you such a hard time as a kid… I didn’t know any better.”

Humming, Reginald glanced down before raising his glass. “No skin off my teeth, old man.” He smiled before drinking. Five sighed and downed the rest of his drink before standing from his seat. “One more thing.”

“What is it?” Five turned back to his father, freezing at the cold look he had been giving him.

“It would be best… if you refrained from courting (Y/N).”

A pang going through his chest, Five rapidly blinked and stepped back. ��W-What…?”

“Your relationship is not healthy,” Reginald stood from his stool and began walking past the boy. “And besides…”

Five clenched his fists as his father walked towards the exit of the tiki lounge.

“I have plans for her.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sappyassmemes @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz @luckyzipperscissorsbat

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua fanfic #tua five #tua x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years ago

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Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough.

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services.

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone.

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone.

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?”

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly.

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed.

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it.

She trusted him.

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy.

Enzo did not match lightly.

His magic liked the match.

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her.

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce.

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.”

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty.

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother.

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabbles #yeah #this sort of an interesting kind of crack

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ruzek-halstead · 4 years ago

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keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)

julie doesn't expect one of the worst days of her life to lead to the best.

an alternate universe where julie is a talented tattoo artist, battling her demons and luke occasionally helps out at a flower shop because recording a demo isn't cheap. their meeting isn't the most glamorous, but it's one for the books.

masterlist || ao3

It’s only when she turns her head to the side and her curls follow, that he notices the black outline of a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder. It’s unbelievably simple and void of any colour, but Luke finds it suits her. Her arm reaches out as she playfully hits the shoulder of someone she’s with and Luke catches more of the ink on her skin. He spots the dahlia first, and her reaction at the flower shop when he thought they didn’t have any makes a lot more sense; it must have a deep meaning to her.

The urge he feels to know everything and anything about her overwhelms him.

The moment Julie's alarm clock starts ringing that rainy Wednesday morning, she knows it can only go further downhill from there.

She has been dreading this day for the entire month, and now that it's finally here, she isn't sure how to feel. She knows how she feels; her insides are turning themselves inside out and the pinch at the front of her forehead signals the start of a headache that will most likely be there for the remainder of the day.

It's only seven-thirty in the morning and her phone is already flooding with messages. They're mostly from her dad, reminding her what today is. It isn't as if she needs a reminder; this day will stick with her for as long as she walks this earth. Other messages are from her Tía Victoria, a bit more aggressive, trying to ensure Julie's presence later tonight.

Julie understands it's all in good faith; she knows that. It doesn't help lessen the pain though.

She's has never found it anything less than difficult to visit her mother's grave. The image of Rose being lowered in her coffin will forever stay burned in Julie's mind, and that was all she could picture whenever she went back. However, the standing tradition was that they all would visit her mother's grave on the anniversary of her death.

Julie visited on the first anniversary. She was only able to stay the entirety of four minutes before she ran to the nearest trashcan to empty out her insides.

She stopped by the second year but couldn't find the strength to leave the car.

By the third year, the mere thought of visiting the cemetery was enough to send Julie into a whirlwind of panic attacks; they were so debilitating that she couldn't even leave her apartment.

At the fourth anniversary, Julie simply opted to not go. Her father was disappointed, her Tía was angry (even though she tried to hide it) and her brother said nothing at all.

Today marks the fifth anniversary of Rose's death, and once again, she's expected to show up. Even if the pain is just as fresh as the day it happened, the expectation is that she'll show up anyway with flowers and say something nice and meaningful.

Julie doesn't have anything nice or meaningful to say because she's still so angry that something like this even happened in the first place. She doesn't see why she has to hide her anger, why she has to hide it for the sake of her family. It should be okay that she's still grieving; it isn't something you just get over.

Julie clears the messages from her phone without responding. She has work to get to, and she can't be anymore distracted than she already is. She jumps in for a quick shower, not bothering to style her hair since it was a dreary, rainy day anyway. She chooses a pair of black ripped jeans, a matching black cropped band t-shirt and her red and black plaid shirt to complete the outfit. Grabbing an apple for the road, she picks up her army green jacket, an umbrella and quickly weaves through the crowds of people on the street until she reaches her destination.

The 'OPEN' sign is still turned off, but she spots lights flickering in the back. Balancing her umbrella and the apple she shoved in her mouth due to lack of hands, she uses her key to let herself in.

Willie is already in the back, setting up his station for a full day of appointments. Somehow people were always willing to get pricked with a needle, no matter how much it hurt.

Their other co-workers, Flynn and Carrie haven't arrived yet.

Julie is grateful for that. After working with these people for so many years, they know a lot about her and most of them were even there when her mother's health severely started deteriorating out of nowhere.

They know exactly what today is.

She doesn't want to be coddled in the way she knows they'll want to.

Luckily, she doesn't have to worry about that with Willie. He somehow just understands exactly what everyone needs, no words necessary.

"Morning Jules," he murmurs, motioning behind him to the break room. "I set the coffee a bit ago. Can you check on that?"

Julie, ever grateful for the distraction, drops her things at her station and rushes into the break room. Coffee is a must every morning, and it's best to always have a fresh pot. You never know when you'll need a fix. After so many years of working together, they've all memorized each other's coffee orders and so, Julie takes it upon herself to prepare everyone's coffee.

It's mostly for a distraction. But every time she thinks of things as distractions, it only reminds her of what she's trying to distract herself from. It's a lose-lose situation.

"Good morning Julie!"

Julie turns to glance over her shoulder at where Carrie is walking in, hooking her jacket on the coat rack and shaking out the raindrops from her loose waves. She immediately dives for her coffee, taking a deep gulp with a sigh of pleasure.

Her blue eyes meet Julie's surprised brown ones. Carrie merely sends her a small smile and doesn't say anything else. Julie sends one back.

"Is Nick coming in today?" Julie asks, turning back to the four coffees.

Nick is their apprentice, currently working with Carrie. He doesn't come in everyday and Julie doesn't want to waste a perfectly good coffee if he isn't coming in.

"No, not today. He gets days off. Anyone know what those are?"

Julie lets out a snort. She spots the pleased smile on Carrie's lips from the corner of her eye. She understands her co-workers are trying to make this day as pain-free as possible and she really appreciates it.

"Jules, your phone's going off again!" Willie yells from the other room. Julie frowns, knowing exactly who it is and what it's for. She glances at her watch, noting it's time to open. She grabs her coffee along with Willie's and drops it off along the way.

Julie once again presses decline, silences it, and shoves it into one of her drawers. She ignores the somewhat knowing look from Willie; she knows he won't say anything.

She can feel it in the aggressive manner of her movements; she's just so frustrated. She's frustrated with her emotions and what she's feeling. A part of her thinks she should be over it by now, so she wouldn't have to suffer through this every year. But she knows that's ridiculous; this kind of pain doesn't just disappear overnight. She's also frustrated with her family. They don't seem to care about what she's feeling and instead solely on what they want her to do.

But then, she's also frustrated with herself.

Why is it so difficult for her to visit her mother? Maybe it would be therapeutic and bring Julie some closure. She knows this, but her body rejects the idea at every attempt.

It's frustrating all around and Julie can feel herself growing sour as the day goes on.

Julie never pictured herself going into tattooing. To be perfectly honest, blood used to freak the hell out of her and in large quantities, it still does. But she always had an interest in drawing. It started with little doodles on the corners of her notebooks, then when she was gifted her first proper drawing pad, she filled it up within days. It was the one thing that brought her joy, so she decided to make something out of it.

Tattooing was still never on her radar. It wasn't until Julie met up with some of her cousins at a family get together that the idea was proposed. After that, Julie furthered her education on drawing and applied for an apprenticeship with an experienced tattoo artist. She wanted to see if it was the right profession for her, and she was amazed by how much she loved it.

Her mentor thought she was adorable at first. She was so tiny, and so bare of any tattoos, but when she started showcasing her talent, both knew this was the right place for Julie. She stayed there for a few months and eventually started venturing elsewhere. That's when she discovered Willie and his tattoo parlour Powerhouse.

He's absolutely the chillest boss Julie has ever encountered. He cares that you do your job and you do it properly. She also met some pretty amazing coworkers along the way, so it was quite possibly one of the best decisions she ever made.

Sitting in the break room during a gap in appointments, Julie idly stares at the ink littering her forearms. She never saw the appeal to ink her skin before her mom passed away. After that, she was desperate to keep her memory alive, and as close to her as possible.

The black outline of a dahlia on her wrist reminds Julie of her mother's favourite flower; she always made sure to have them in the house, even if they were out of season. There was a flower shop nearby that always managed to get them in, and coincidentally, it ended up being the shop across the street from where she worked now. Julie is familiar with the elderly lady who owned the shop, Beverly; she's the absolute sweetest, and continued to get dahlias even after Rose had passed away.

Julie likes to keep some in her apartment as well, so she continues stopping by.

She kept adding designs to her skin as time went on.

Her style is mostly black ink, thin lines. She understands most people get tattoos without a specific meaning behind it, as getting a tattoo is already meaningful enough. But Julie has always been dead set on having all her tattoos mean something to her.

She has her mother's signature on the underside of her other wrist. This one, Carlos and she got together. It's the only time Carlos ever let her come close to him with a needle, even though she has begged him multiple times.

Julie also has a black butterfly on the back of her shoulder. She loves butterflies and everything they represent; rebirth, change, hope, transformation, everything she wishes she could do.

She has a few more littering the skin on her arms, all personal designs, and all done by her ridiculously talented co-workers; Julie wouldn't trust anyone else.

Julie's day has dragged on, and she's still dodging calls from her family. It hurt, deep down in her chest that she's ignoring them, but it hurt so much more thinking about her mom and where she is.

When her phone rings again as she's cleaning up her station after the last client of the evening, Julie moves to decline the call. She stops short when she notices the screensaver is a dorky photo she took of Carlos many years ago; it's her brother calling, and he hasn't bothered to do so in quite a while.

Julie, with hesitation, decides to pick up the phone anyway. She hasn't talked to her brother in months, and she can't decline his call; it would hurt too much.

"Julie," he greets, seemingly surprised she even picked up; he knows what she's like on his particular day. It's like a breath of fresh air hearing his voice, and it makes Julie feel even worse for ignoring her father and Tía's calls earlier.

"Hey Carlos," Julie replies softly. "How are you?

It's a dumb question, but it was instinct more than anything else.

"I'm okay, considering," Carlos responds honestly, and Julie's heart nearly bursts from how much it hurts. To know her little brother is hurting and she has been avoiding him like the plague, it makes her feel like a terrible sister. And that wouldn't be far from the truth, considering how MIA she has been with her entire family. "Are you coming tonight?"

Julie inhales sharply. It's easier to just decline calls to let them know she isn't coming rather than actually having to tell them. "I'm sorry Carlos, I don't think I can make it tonight."

There's an ominous silence from the other end. They both know Julie's full of shit.

"Okay," he replies solemnly. "I just —" When Julie hears what she thinks is a quiet sob, her eyes immediately well up with tears. For a second, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room and she can't figure out how to breathe. "I would really like it if you came. I need you."

Carlos is so obviously in pain and Julie doesn't have it in her to deny it anymore. She's in pain too, but it isn't just about her.

"I'll be there," Julie tells him, voice breaking on the last word. "I'm just finishing work, but I'll meet you all there."

"Thanks Jules," he thanks her, but honestly, there's no need. "I love you."

Julie hastily wipes at the tears that have escaped. "I love you too. See you soon."

Julie immediately ends the phone call and ducks her head into her arms to silence the sobs wracking her body.

God, it hurt so much.

Everything hurt.

Julie only allows herself to fall apart for a single minute. After that, she composes herself and wipes away her tears. She had promised Beverly she would stop by today, as she always sent Julie some dahlias on the anniversary of her mother's death. She figures she may as well bring them to her mother's grave; her father would appreciate it.

Julie hastily grabs her jacket from the back and storms to the front door. Her co-workers are still in, so she mumbles a quick goodbye but doesn't stay long enough to receive any questions. In her rush, she forgets to grab her umbrella and of course, it's still raining out.

She growls in frustration under her breath. She isn't usually an angry person, but today she's completely out of it.

The flower shop is only across the street, so she quickly makes a run for it and ducks into the shop.

Julie is expecting to see Beverly behind the counter, so she's unpleasantly surprised to see a floppy-haired, sleeveless man sitting behind it instead. She was truly hoping to see Beverly; she always made Julie feel better, especially on days like this.

So, she can't exactly explain the overwhelming feeling of rage that overtakes her.

Luke is sitting behind the counter on a stool, pencil between his lips, brows furrowed together as he reviews his latest lyrics. His head is bopping up and down as he murmurs the words from the notebook splayed on his lap.

He's been in a bit of a rut lately and everything he seems to write makes him want to bang his head against the wall.

The flower shop is quiet and slow, and it's the perfect place for Luke to write out his latest song ideas. They are still three songs short for the demo album they're currently recording and Luke is on a bit of a time crunch. It's a miracle they found a studio willing to let them record their demo album at all, but that's the price of knowing people (or Reggie knowing people; he meets a lot of random people).

Unfortunately, recording a demo doesn't pay much, so Luke helps out in the flower shop occasionally. Beverly is a family friend of his mom's and she's more than happy to have Luke help out so she can spend some more time with her grandkids.

When he hears the bell of the door go off, signalling there's a new customer, he glances up, pencil dropping into his lap. Her back is to him so he can only spot her unruly curls and army green jacket littered with raindrops.

He watches her silently; it isn't like he's trying to be creepy or anything, but usually he can tell by their expressions if they need his help or not. When she turns in his direction to glance at the row of flowers, he offers a friendly smile.

Luke is momentarily distracted by her effortless beauty, but his brows furrow at the obvious distress written on her features. Her eyes are slightly rimmed red, and he doesn't want to make any assumptions, but coupled with her rosy nose, it seems as if she has been crying. There's a pinch in her brow, and Luke can't tell if she's angry or just severely upset.

Neither are his specialty, and truth be told, he figures he'll only make things worse if he tries to talk to her. But she looks so sad, and it is technically his job. How horribly could he mess this up?

With hesitation, he slips out from behind the counter and approaches her cautiously, bouncing on his heels.

"Hey!" Luke greets, his right hand automatically reaching towards the back of his head to scratch his scalp. He has been told it's his nervous tick, though he can't really help it at this point. His voice sounds so loud in the quiet shop; only the sounds of buzzing from the coolers can be heard. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Julie is still gazing over the flowers, growing irritated that there are no dahlias in sight. She spares a single look at his curious expression. His green eyes are searching her face, and she can only imagine how terrible she looks right now. His gaze is oddly intense and Julie breaks away like she's been burned.

Shaking her head to break out of her reverie, she looks back at the flowers. "I'm looking for dahlias."

"Oh!" Luke frowns, even more so when Julie doesn't make further eye contact. "Sorry, we don't have any in stock right now. Not the season."

Luke has dealt with crabby customers before, normally upset because they don't have what they're looking for. He's used to that, and he has a pretty upbeat demeanour that helps him whenever he has to talk down customers. And though Julie looks upset, he doesn't expect her to snap the way she does.

She turns to face him with such ferocity that the ends of her jacket flap against his thigh. There’s a wild gleam in her eye as it twitches. “What?” Though the single word is packed with animosity and venom, Luke spots the hint of desperation beneath. “That’s not possible. This place always has dahlias! They have to be here somewhere!" Her voice lowers into a soft whine when she says, "I need them."

Julie’s eyes flood with tears the more she speaks, and though she realizes he probably has no idea that Beverly always makes sure there are dahlias for her, she can’t help but let her frustrations out somewhere. Plus, she doesn't know him, so it's fine, right?

At the prospect of Julie bursting into tears right there and then in front of him, Luke jumps right into panic mode.

If Beverly’s shop receives a terrible review because of him, she will absolutely have his head.

(Beverly is a sweet lady but the sass.)

“Uh — hold on, just give me a second,” Luke stutters, reaching his hand out as if to comfort her. Julie’s eyes drop down to his hand and he snaps it back and tangles it into the back of his head with a sheepish smile. He’s always been very touch-oriented; it’s a problem sometimes, especially with people he doesn’t know very well. He just can't help it; if he sees someone in pain and suffering, he'll want jump in and help. However, it seems like the only way to help this particular distraught customer is to find some dahlias. “Hey, okay — listen, why don’t I check in the back? I could definitely be wrong.”

Julie’s eyes meet his and he becomes increasingly aware that she’s about ready to lose her bearings and cry right there in front of him. It makes his heart turn in his chest, and he doesn’t even know her that well. He takes a step back to head to the cooler but his hesitation is at an all-time high; Julie looks so ready to explode and it rubs him the wrong way to leave her on her own.

But he figures it’ll be for the best if he can find the dahlias, so he awkwardly steps back to enter the cooler. The cooler is relatively empty, only vases with long-stemmed roses, some ready-to-go arrangements and a few orders waiting to be picked up. He walks through the cooler quickly, checking any crevice for hidden dahlias. It’s only when he spots a bouquet of dahlias with baby’s breath, neatly wrapped in cellophane that he stops in his tracks. There’s a note attached and Luke recognizes Beverly’s loopy hand-writing.

A pretty, curly-haired brunette will be by to pick these up later. No charge. Please be nice, Luke.

Luke nearly snorts at the addition of the note, but quickly realizes it was probably added because of the brunette’s emotional state that he just witnessed. He would otherwise argue he’s a very kind person.

(He isn’t usually wrong about what they have in stock either, but it seems today is a day for firsts.)

Luke grabs the bouquet and gently brings it back out. Luckily, the brunette hasn’t burst into tears; in fact, she seems more composed than earlier (he can’t help but think that maybe it was because his bothersome presence was gone).

“Ah — I’m sorry about that,” Luke apologizes, holding out the bouquet. He realizes the note Beverly left is still stuck onto the cellophane when he catches Julie’s eyes very obviously reading it. He awkwardly snatches the note back and shoves it into his pocket, but when he notices the right side of her lip quirk into a small smirk, he can’t help but feel a swell of pride. “Turns out Bev had this ready for you in the back.”

Julie accepts the bouquet, glancing up to send him a small, thankful smile. She recognizes she was quite snappy with him, and truthfully, he handled it considerably well as opposed to how he could have. But she also knows she isn’t mad at him and he didn’t deserve to be her punching bag today. Whoever he is.

Julie doesn’t recognize him, but he seems to know Beverly just as well as she does. He has a decently cute smile and Julie seems to be drawn to his mannerisms; the way he constantly scratches the back of his scalp or bites his lip when he’s awaiting replies.

She only notices that she’s been staring at him for the last few seconds when he clears his throat and his hand dives towards the back of his neck. She would be embarrassed if this wasn’t already one of the worst days of her life; it truly can’t get any worse.

Instead, she pulls out her wallet with her free hand, but Luke shakes his head. She saw the note that said no charge, but she had been a nightmare, it was the least she could do. “No charge,” Luke murmurs, eyes latching to the delicately wrapped dahlias. “Boss’s orders.”

Julie forces another smile onto her lips. “Thank you,” she says. She debates saying anything else, maybe apologizing but she’s already running late and she doesn’t want her family to think she’s bailing on them again.

So, she turns to leave. Immediately, dread starts pooling at the bottom of her belly and she just knows getting to the cemetery will be one of the hardest things she'll have to face.

At watching her leave after a painfully obvious fake smile, Luke hesitates. He’s a curious person, and he doesn’t like to see people hurt. He always needs to make things better; it's part of who he is. So, he bites his lip and launches forward, blurting loudly, “Are you alright?”

Julie nearly snorts because she most definitely is not alright and that much is obvious, but it’s nice of him to ask anyway. She stops in her tracks and turns to him with soft eyes. “I’m not, but thank you anyway,” she replies honestly.

Her eyes drop down to search for a name tag, but he doesn’t have one. She then remembers the name scribbled on the note at the same time he supplies, “Luke.”

“Thank you anyway, Luke,” Julie repeats. Her eyes quickly roam over his features once again. She hadn’t noticed his sleeveless tank was an old band t-shirt, but at this close range, she could tell it had been purposely ripped and destroyed. The shirt, coupled with his distressed denim pants and outdated jean-chain gives her serious 90s vibes. She decides she likes it.

Luke nods in response, folding his lips in an awkward smile. Her warm brown eyes are softer now as they gaze at him and for some reason, he can feel his heartbeat start to pick up. She turns to walk away again and this time he doesn’t interrupt.

He would absolutely deny that he was creeping on her (he just happened to be looking in that direction) but he watches as she ducks into the tattoo parlour across the street. He finds it a bit odd; it seems like a weird place to go after a flower shop, especially given how upset she looked.

One thing he does know: it seems as if Beverly is quite familiar with this mysterious brunette, and he would be lying if he said he doesn't want to know more about her.

It's a fair assumption to say Luke’s life is a tad bit complicated at the moment.

His band, Sunset Curve, was graced with the amazing opportunity to record their demo in a borrowed studio. It was a truly unbelievable experience, and Luke was eating up every second. But as the resident songwriter, it was up to him to make sure they had enough original songs to even record.

It’s no secret that Luke has been having trouble in the inspiration department.

The lyrics just weren’t flowing to him like they usually did. He wasn’t really sure of the reason; he originally just assumed writer’s block. But then a certain event occurred and he started to see everything in a different light.

It sounds ridiculous, he knows that.

He doesn’t even know her name.

But her effortless beauty compelled him, and there was something about the sadness in her eyes that drew him in. There were many things about their encounter that were completely out of the ordinary. Her vulnerability and obvious desperation drove his curiosities wild and even though he’d only been in her presence for a few minutes, he was itching to know more.

So, he isn’t the least bit surprised when he starts adding words to his notebook as potential lyrics start spilling out of him.

Specifically, he focuses on her emotions and the obvious distress she seemed to be feeling. It’s out of the realm of his usual type of song, and maybe it isn’t something he’d pitch for the band, but a smile comes to his lips as he thinks of these passages just for himself.

she closed the door

she hides behind a face nobody knows

she feels her skin touch the floor

she wants to fight

but her eyes are tired, nobody’s on her side

she wants to feel like she did before

she looks into her mirror

wishing someone could hear her, so loud

It's definitely not his usual, but her presence in his life gets the ball rolling.

He needs to know more.

Luke finds himself a week later back in Beverly’s flower shop, this time with her by his side. They receive deliveries on Thursday evenings, so Luke usually stops in to help. He hadn’t gotten a chance to pick up another shift since he met the mysterious brunette last week due to back-to-back sessions at the studio, but this was finally his opportunity.

He hasn’t found the right opportunity to ask; he isn’t even sure what to say, but apparently his actions are a bit more obvious than he's intending them to be.

“Am I about to get robbed?”

At Beverly’s odd, but capturing question, Luke turns to her with furrowed brows. She’s sitting behind the counter, checking off their invoices one by one. He’s unloading boxes into the cooler, albeit slower than necessary. He’s a tad bit distracted by the glass windows.

“What?” He mumbles, stopping for a moment to focus on her words. He wipes a hint of sweat off his brow. For someone with a high level of stamina due to the countless hours on stage, he's quite embarrassed at how out of shape he seems to be from a few boxes.

Beverly peeks up at him over the rim of her glasses. “Well, you keep looking out the window, almost as if one of your dorky bandmates is about to run in and break into my register."

Luke snorts at the mention of his dorky bandmates; she definitely isn't wrong. But that isn't the reason why he continues to glance out the window.

“No. It’s just — that girl from last week, with the dahlias. Uh — what’s her name?”

Beverly's smirk is evident and he nearly shies away from the knowing look in her eye. “You didn’t ask for her name?”

His eyes roll back at the obvious judgment in her tone and he wants to laugh, but she's already beat him to it. “I was kind of distracted trying to make sure she didn't cry at the sight of my face."

"Right, I could've warned you about that."

Luke's eyes latch onto her smirk. "You could've."

“She’s a sweet girl,” Beverly sighed, filing another completed invoice. “She’s had a hard life, sad story, really.”

That certainly piqued Luke’s interest.

“What happened?”

But he should’ve figured Beverly wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.

“Not my story to tell,” she says simply. “But I can tell you her name is Julie and she works at the tattoo parlour across the street.”

Realization dawns on Luke at once. He saw her ducking into the parlour after buying flowers but he never imagined she actually worked there. It didn’t seem like her thing, but he should know better than anyone not to judge a book by its cover.

“Are you going to go talk to her?”

At Beverly’s absurd suggestion, he scoffs. “What? No. I was just curious; I don’t even know her.”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “How is it possible that the male species have gotten even stupider since my time?”

Luke drops his jaw in offence, but she's already slid her glasses back on and started studying the next invoice.

Did the thought of casually dropping by the tattoo parlour cross his mind? Yes, of course. But he doesn't want to do that. He isn't used to that. He's never the one that had to chase; it sounds stupid, especially because he hardly knows her, but sometimes there's just a feeling. A feeling that might not make any sense at all, but it's there and it's impossible to ignore.

Luke did his best to ignore the feeling, but only a mere week later, he would find that it wasn't that easy.

"Alright, boys. You all understand how important tonight is, right?"

Alex rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time, as if Luke hasn't drilled the thought into their minds a million times by now. Ever since they secured this gig, it was all Luke could talk about. They each knew how important it was. Yes, their demo was currently in the making but one amazing performance in front of some killer producers, and their demo may not even be necessary to get signed.

It's exciting and anxious as hell.

"I know, I know," Luke sighs, running his hands nervously through his hair. He can't stay still and he can't stop moving or his anxiety will eat him alive. "I'm just so nervous."

Reggie nods his head from the snack table. They each have their own ways of dealing with pre-stage jitters and nerves; Reggie's happens to be stress-eating, and his food of choice? Hot dogs. How he manages to not upchuck everything when onstage is a question they've all asked themselves multiple times.

"I get it dude," he says through a mouthful. "But we're going to rock this like we always do. It'll be awesome."

Reggie's words are comforting but they do little to ease Luke's nerves. This is a big deal for him, for all of them. After so many years of following their passions and trying to accomplish their dreams, a real chance is finally awaiting them just outside these doors.

It's enough to make him nearly puke twice before he makes it on stage, and it only frustrates him further because he never gets this panicky.

He works himself up before he takes the final plunge and finds his way to the one place in the world he's ever felt truly comfortable; centre-stage in front of a microphone with his guitar slung around his neck.

The lights are bright, but he's used to it. His connection to the crowd is instant; that's never been a problem for Luke. He reaches the crowd in the way he sings passionately, surrendering every emotion each song elicits.

He's trying not to think too much; he doesn't want to get too far into his head because he does his best work musically when he isn't thinking, only feeling the music coursing through his veins. He can easily spot the producers in the corporate pantsuits sitting in the far back corner and his eyes try to avoid them as best as possible.

He focuses on the music, on his boys and on giving the performance of a lifetime.

Luke is so focused, he momentarily misses the sight of his flower shop mystery girl smack-dab in the middle of the crowd. His eyes immediately snap back, catching her polite smile as she nods her head along with the music. Though she isn't jumping along like some fans in the front row, she is offering some acknowledgement that she's enjoying his music.

And he isn't sure why, but it sends a fire through his chest that animates him for the rest of the show.

They don't take any breaks during the set; their dedication is endless.

Luke can physically feel how animated the club is, how unbelievably well their show is going. He shouldn't be surprised but the nerves were too much for him earlier. By the time they're winding down for their last performance of the night, Luke doesn't want it to end.

But he's also perfectly aware of the incredibly important people sitting near the back and he knows he has to face them eventually.

They end their stellar performance with their favourite song to perform, so near and dear to their hearts, and also energetic as hell, Now or Never. It's the perfect oath to live their lives to the fullest, as Luke and the boys try to do every day. Today is no different; an opportunity came knocking and Luke plans to take full advantage.

When Luke finally makes his way off stage, everything seems to happen in slow motion.

He can idly feel Alex pulling on his tank and Reggie wrapping an arm around his shoulders, messing up his sweaty hair even more than it already was.

Even when a woman wearing a salmon coloured pantsuit sneaks into their makeshift dressing room to have a quick word, he feels like he's frozen in time, watching from outside his body.

Alex does all the talking (mostly nervous rambling) but the lady, who later introduces herself as Lucy Fields, happens to think it's adorably hilarious.

She tells them she absolutely loved their performance and sees some real, authentic potential; they're young, have a defined sound and a clear talent for writing their own music. Lucy hands them her card, asks for a phone number for reference and promises to call.

When Reggie confusedly asks what this means, Lucy offers them a small smirk.

"I'm going to set up a meeting with my boss. If he likes what he sees, maybe you guys will be signing some paperwork." At their obvious disbelief, she continues, "You guys will definitely be signing some paperwork."

The silence that follows is palpable, but understandable.

Luke hasn't been able to utter a single word since getting off stage, which is highly unusual for him. This news doesn't help his predicament. Reggie starts coughing violently when he chokes on his water, and Alex is nearly about to drop to the ground because what even is air anymore?

Lucy isn't really sure what reaction she would get, but she isn't expecting complete silence. This is rectified when three, fully-grown man-children launch themselves at her, thanking profusely; Reggie even goes so far to plant a sloppy kiss on her forehead.

"We are so sorry," Alex apologizes breathlessly, yanking Reggie back towards his side. "We've just been wait — this is really huge for us."

But Lucy is laughing, so they know they haven't totally ruined their opportunity before it's even begun. "It's alright, boys. This is exciting, I get it. I'll be in touch," she promises before leaving the way she came in.

It's only fitting that the boys can't find any words for a solid five minutes. How does one sum this up into words? Luke certainly can't; in fact, he's pretty certain his brain is short-circuiting because his mind is completely blank.

"What the actual hell?" Alex mutters, quite literally sitting down on the floor where he stood. "Did that just happen? Am I dreaming?"

In response, Reggie whacks Alex on the back of the head; the blonde whines in pain. "Not dreaming," Reggie replies positively. He turns to Luke, nodding, "Dude, you haven't said a word. You good?"

"I don't know what to say," Luke finally says. "This is fucking wild. I mean — I knew it was a possibility, I know this is what we were hoping for but, it's actually happening."

Alex shoots Luke a toothy grin, eyes involuntarily watering with happy tears. "It's finally happening," he repeats. He braces himself when Reggie suddenly launches himself onto him, then groans when Luke hops on as well, laughing heartily.

"It's finally happening!"

It's only when he's distracted, laughing with his brothers on what is quite possibly one of the best days of his life that he remembers just exactly who is currently outside. Untangling himself, he scrambles off the dog pile and nervously tries to fix his messy hair.

"Shit, I have to go."

Alex furrows his eyebrows. "What? Where?"

"We have to celebrate!" Reggie pouts, grunting when Alex pushes him off.

Luke is busy rummaging through all their belongings, looking for some breath mints or even gum. Alex peeks at his actions with curiosity. "What are you — Lucas Patterson! Who is the girl?"

"Shh!" Luke fires back. He isn't totally sure why he does, because it isn't like she can hear them, but it's automatic. "It's the flower shop girl, Julie. I saw her in the crowd."

Reggie shares an incredibly suggestive look with Alex, and Luke can't help but roll his eyes. He finally locates his emergency pack of breath mints and pops three into his mouth. "The tattoo artist? Oh, dude, get your ass out there."

"Good luck Luke! Don't mess it up!" Alex yells after him.

Luke slams the door shut behind him and chuckles; he really should get some new friends. But if things go as expected at this meeting, he'll be stuck with them for life.

He is keenly aware of the fact that Julie might not even be around anymore. It's more than probable, but Luke hopes luck is on his side tonight.

After all, he owes her somewhat of a thank you.

He was in a musical rut before she stormed into his flower shop and nearly bit his head off. He can't explain it, but their encounter sparked something within him and he found himself writing more lyrics than he could keep up with.

Plus, she seemed to recognize him when they made brief eye contact, so it couldn't be a bad idea, right?

(Tell that to his palms that are obsessively sweating as his bright eyes rake through the hoards of people looking for her.)

Luke finds her relatively quickly; she's perched a top of a stool directly in front of the bar. Even though he can only see her back, he recognizes the cascade of curls down her back.

Maybe luck is on his side.

He can’t even put into words how good it looks on her, and maybe that’s a little shallow of him to think, but he’s truly floored by her appearance.

He knew she was beautiful when he saw her that first time, but seeing this side of her, this personal side of her; she’s simply gorgeous and he can’t wait to tell her.

He takes a deep breath and fixes his shirt; it's old and ratty and ripped, but it hasn't failed him yet. He has absolutely no idea what he even plans on saying; he never has to think about it, it usually just comes to him.

Luke slides in next to her, flagging down the bartender immediately.

He really needs a drink.

“Rum and coke, please.”

The tone of his voice must render familiar because Julie pivots on her stool with curious eyes and a lazy smile.

“Well, if it isn’t flower shop boy.”

In another world, he might’ve been offended that the only memorable thing about him was that he worked in a flower shop (he would argue his devilishly good looks or sparkling eyes were absolutely unforgettable). But with one look at her tilted head and amused eyes, he's just glad she remembers him at all.

“In the flesh,” he replies, tongue pressed against his teeth to keep from smiling too excitedly. “Though I do think I proved myself on stage; rockstar is a much more badass nickname."

Julie’s eyes twinkle mischievously as she clicks her tongue before pulling the straw of her drink between her lips. Luke’s eyes immediately follow absentmindedly. “I don’t know,” she drawls with a hint of sarcasm, “I think flowers suit you somehow.”

He wouldn't normally associate himself with flowers.

He's all about ripped jeans and band tees; bottomless coffee pots and dark splashes of colour. Flowers don't normally come to mind, but for some reason, the thought that she does associate him with flowers brings a smile to his lip. Clearly flowers mean a lot to her, if the dahlia tattoo is anything to go by.

It also isn't the wildest thought; he does occasionally work in a flower shop, after all.

The bartender slides his drink across the counter and Luke digs into his back pocket for his wallet. His emerald eyes glance at Julie's nearly empty glass and he leans forward to ask for a refill before throwing a few bills onto the counter.

Julie's eyes glance at the new drink and she shoots a shy smile in his direction.

He doesn't know her very well, but from what he's seen, shy doesn't really seem to fit her.

"You're in a band."

It almost seems like a question, but it very obviously isn't. Luke still feels the need to reply.

"Yeah. We do alright," he replies, hiding a chuckle.

If there is one thing that Luke Patterson is one-hundred percent certain of is that Sunset Curve rocks. Record deal or not, he knows it and he'll never give it up.

However, it doesn't seem like he'll have to and the thought brings a smile to his lips.

"You guys are more than alright!" Julie's face brightens as she turns to speak more animatedly. "I have to be honest, I wasn't really for going out tonight, but I was pleasantly surprised."

"Pleasantly surprised because you saw a familiar face or —?"

Julie's head tilts again and his eyes absentmindedly trace her jaw. "Pleasantly surprised because you guys were good and I was having fun." As an afterthought, she smirks and adds, "Plus, the drummer was cute."

Luke's smile immediately drops and he returns his focus to his drink with a pout. "He's unavailable," he mutters grumpily.

But then she laughs and with one quick glance at her amused expression, it's clear she's only messing with him.

"I like your ink," he says with a nod. "Are they your designs?"

At the comment, Julie's eyebrows rise beneath her curls. "They are, yeah," she replies with a hint of confusion in her voice.

"Beverly told me you work at the tattoo parlour across the street," Luke explains with a shrug of his shoulders.

While Luke doesn't realize the gravity of his words, Julie is filled with a rush of excitement. Clearly, he's been talking about her or at least thinking about her. It's especially surprising considering how their first meeting actually went.

But the truth is, she's thought about him too.

It was hard not to, given his kind smile and friendly nature. Though she was stressed at the time, she couldn't help but think back afterwards. She was of the type to think about things constantly, even after it was all said and done. Awkward encounters, stupid things she's said, you name it.

So, nearly crying in front of a cute stranger definitely made the list.

"You talked about me?" Julie asks, revelling in the quick bloom of red that spreads across Luke's cheeks.

Though he's blushing, he seems completely at ease. "I actually asked about you," he admits, taking another large gulp of his glass. He senses the burn of the alcohol passing through his system. "I was curious."

Julie nods, stirring her glass with the black straw. "Not curious enough to stop by?"

This time, his eyebrows rose in surprise. "I would've stood out too much."

At this, Julie's dark eyes roam over Luke's bare arms, subtlety forgotten. She's surprised she even held out this long, given how loose his shirt is. The cutoff sleeves droop low on his sides and she has a decently clear view of his chest at the angle he's sitting. Her eyes automatically snap back up to his face where he's smirking through another sip from his glass.

His arms are still glistening with sweat, but they're bare of any ink.

"I mean, we can always change that," Julie suggests. She hasn't taken notice of how her body has absentmindedly leaned closer to him, but Luke has. If his racing pulse is anything to go by, he's definitely noticed.

Luke lets out a breathy chuckle, gaze dropping to appreciate the tattoos littering her caramel skin (don't even get him started on what her tattoos are doing to him). "Needles and I don't get along too well and I'm sure as hell not about to cry in front of you before we've even had a first date."

Julie's eyes widen at his forwardness and Luke's breath catches in his throat.

But only seconds later, a pleased smile spreads across Julie's mouth slowly and his gaze automatically drops.

"We can change that too."

Luke has mysteriously forgotten how to breathe, but luckily, Julie is making all the first moves. She pulls her phone out of her purse, unlocks it and brings up a new contact page. She hands him the phone with bright, hopeful eyes and he can only take the phone numbly because he's pretty sure his brain is starting to shutdown.

He doesn't ever freeze up. He doesn't panic when it comes to girls.

In any other scenario, he would had had her number minutes ago.

But this. This is different.

It feels odd for him not to be in control but he's weirdly okay with it? He can't explain it, but he'll sure as hell enjoy it.

Julie glances over her shoulder towards the door as Luke finishes up with her phone. He hands it back to her, expertly making sure their fingers brush as she takes it back (see? His game isn't completely gone).

"I have to go," Julie explains, and is that a breathy tone Luke detects? "My friends are waiting, but it was nice to see you again, Luke." Her eyes seem to go blank for a moment and she shakes her head. "Oh — my name is Julie, by the way. Julie Molina."

A grin blooms across his lips. He already knew her name, but he isn't trying to freak her out with that information. "It's nice to see you again, Julie."

Julie slides off her stool and tucks a few wayward curls behind her ear.

Luke knows he shouldn't, but his gaze roams over her figure. But she did oogle his biceps, so they were even, right?

"By the way," he mumbles and curses his mouth that moves faster than his brain. He's up and out of his seat before he notices. "This might be totally out of place for me to say, but I hope you're doing alright. You know — from that day and all."

He's wincing, preparing himself for when she tells him to go to hell or where he can shove his sentiments, but she surprises him. He shouldn't be surprised because she seems full of surprises, but he still is.

It had only been a week since the fifth anniversary of Rose's death but the wound is still just as fresh. She appreciated when he asked her if she was okay back then, and she appreciated it just as much now.

It's quite comical. She actively avoided her co-workers and friends just so they wouldn't ask her if she was okay, because clearly she wasn't. But she didn't mind a complete stranger asking her; in fact, she welcomed and appreciated it.

Obviously Luke wants to know what had her so upset that day. And it wasn't just that day; he can see the sadness that follows as soon as he mentions it now. It's clearly something she struggles with everyday and that kills him. He wants to know how he can help, how he can make it go away.

Hopefully, he'll get that chance one day, but for now, he's still waiting on that first date.

Julie's sad eyes sweep across his crestfallen features and she steps forward. Her delicate hand presses down on his shoulder to bring him closer and she gently presses her lips to the apple of his cheek. She lingers, because she can and even though he just played an entire set under hot, gleaming lights, he still smells amazing.

"I'm doing better, thank you," Julie murmurs, stepping back. Her eyes roam Luke's face; his blown pupils, lips parted in surprise. "I'll message you," she promises, taking a few steps back towards her friends who are staring very obviously.

She has all the power; he doesn't even have her number. But he's alright with it.

It was small and it felt like nothing, but hearing that she was doing better made his heart flutter.

Luke realizes with a start that she's waiting on a final reply from him before she turns around and joins her friends. So, he offers her a smile and watches in mild horror as his arm comes up through its own volition to grace her with a goofy wave.

But she merely laughs before turning back to her friends.

Luke decides he wants to hear that sound as often as possible.

All in all, his night turned out pretty successful. He can't wait to go tell his boys.

To say that Luke, Reggie and Alex weren't glued to Alex's phone for the entire next week would be the biggest lie of any of their lives.

Alex had given his number to producer Lucy Fields; she promised to call and now they were waiting hand and foot. They each know there's a chance she may not call at all and any opportunity they thought they got, disappears forever. But they were all choosing to be optimistic.

The anxiety is overwhelming.

Luke thought pre-gig was bad, but post-gig is so much worse.

He has to keep himself busy or he'll go insane. So, he focuses on his writing and offers to take a few more shifts at Beverly's.

And he has no ulterior motive to pick up some more shifts. None at all.

It isn't like he can hide it from Beverly anyway. Not when he has his nose pressed to the glass window every hour to stare at the tattoo parlour across the street.

"Good Lord," Beverly mutters after the fifth hour. "If you don't get over there within the next five minutes, I'm firing you."

Luke whips around to face her, hiding his laughter. "You wouldn't."

"Honey, watch me."

Luke chuckles, detaching himself from the window. He's being extra, he knows. But it's mostly because Beverly's sighs and reactions are priceless. He doesn't need to stare through a window to get a date; not when he's already gotten it.

"No need, Bev," he sasses, grabbing some window cleaner (it's the least he can do). "I'm going out with her later today."

Beverly's eyebrows rise so high, they disappear under her hair. She looks so surprised, Luke wants to laugh. "How did you manage that?"

"Saw her at my last gig," he shrugs, hiding a smile. "You know how charming I am, Bev, it was only a matter of time."

Beverly rolls her blue eyes. "Do you need to leave early to change into a date-worthy outfit?"

Luke glances down at his outfit; his signature black ripped jeans, a distressed white band t-shirt and his plaid jacket hanging across the counter. It's normal Luke attire so he isn't sure what brought on the question. "I was just going to wear this?"

Beverly stares at him for a moment before folding her lips to hide a smirk. "Well, you may as well show her what she's getting."

Clearly Beverly woke up today on attack mode.

Earlier this morning, Julie shot Luke a quick text message. They had been texting ever since the day after Luke's gig, but they were solely feeling each other out, and hadn't made any concrete plans. But it had been a week now, and Julie figured it was time.

Luke awoke to a simple text message from Julie, asking if he wanted to grab a coffee after she was done work. It was the best wakeup call, better than a splash of water across his face. He promised to meet her outside of work since he'd be helping out today too and now he was counting down the minutes.

Coffee was a good start.

It's simple, close to their comfort zones and who doesn't love coffee?

Luke still hasn't heard from Lucy so he's grateful for any distraction.

When the time came, he grabs his jacket, places a sloppy kiss on Beverly's cheek and crosses the street with a grin on his features. He leans against one of the light posts, waiting diligently.

When a man with jet black hair piled on top of his head exits, he hears him yell, "Night Jules! Don't forget to lock up!" He makes brief eye contact with Luke and he seems to recognize him from his gig the other night. He nods his head at Luke, glancing back at Julie before walking off.

Luke swears he watches him smirk before he walks away.

But then Julie exits the building and all focus is immediately on her and only her.

She's once again wearing that army green jacket from their first meeting and when she turns to face him, he realizes she's wearing a distressed denim black mini-skirt. She's also wearing a black crop-top and matching black converse. All he wants to think is if all tattoo artists have a black only dress code, but his brain is currently short-circuiting at all the soft skin he wasn't expecting to see.

It's only when he spots the tattoo located on her upper thigh that he realizes he might have to hold onto the light post for support.

"Hey!" Julie greets with the softest smile. She turns around again to lock the front door and Luke lets out an embarrassing puff of air. Get your shit together, Luke, he thinks to himself. "It's nice to see you again."

Julie debates for a moment if she should hug him but ultimately decides against it. He already seems a little pale, so she opts to nod her head in the direction of the coffee shop.

"How are you?" The words Luke has been chanting in his brain finally make it out past his lips, and he turns to gouge her reaction. His hands are stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans as they walk. The itch to hold her hand is strong but, not yet.

Julie nods her head, smiling. That's always a good sign. "It was a good week. Really busy." She eyes his covered arms. "You sure you don't want some ink?"

"Pretty sure we decided after the first date only."

Julie's intrigued eyes turn to him, amusement lighting them up. "Right. I think we did."

Luke stops to open the door to the coffee shop and waits for Julie to enter before he goes in after her. It's surprisingly not busy, considering the usual post-work buzz, but he likes it better like this. It's a full service shop and by the time Luke and Julie take a seat and pull off their jackets, a friendly waitress is already waiting to take their order.

His gaze is automatically drawn to her displayed tattoos and he nearly forgets to relay his order to the waitress.

"Hey, so, before we get into the first date small talk, I just want to be completely transparent with you."

Luke's smile dims just a smidge. It isn't the greatest way to start a conversation, but he's obviously going to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"That day we first met," Julie takes a full breath, actively avoiding eye contact. She doesn't have to tell him this, but she feels as if he deserves to know. "It wasn't my finest hour. I don't normally snap at employees who are just doing their job, I promise."

Luke nods in accordance.

"That day happened to be the fifth anniversary of the death of my mom."

All the colour from Luke's face drains. He planned to let her finish speaking before he said anything, but he just had to jump in with an, "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Julie replies with a sad smile. "I've never been good at dealing with that day and I haven't been able to visit her grave properly ever since but my family was hounding me to visit, and she loves dahlias —" Julie's eyes glaze over, so caught up in her own thoughts. "She loved dahlias and I always try to keep some in the house. Beverly helps with that. I just wanted you to know it was an off-day for me, but I do have some baggage I don't totally know how to handle and I think it's fair you know that before you get overly invested."

Oh, but he already is.

Instead of saying something right away, Luke places his hand on the table, palm up. An invitation if she wants it.

"You didn't have to tell me any of that, but I appreciate it," Luke says softly. His pulse quickens when she intertwines their fingers together. "That's not enough to scare me off. If you don't want to move this forward, that's okay, I understand. But it won't be on my account."

Julie solely stares at their intertwined hands before a smile breaks out onto her features.

As if on cue, their waitress appears with their drinks and they begrudgingly let go of each other.

Now that the hard stuff was out in the open, conversation flows comfortably. Julie is having the time of her life, nearly laughing at every other word that comes out of Luke's mouth. He revels in it; making her laugh is the highlight of his days.

Over an hour passes by and they hardly even notice. They're too busy engrossed in each other. Eventually they decide to take a walk; the conversation is too good to stop, but sitting was becoming exhausting.

It's only when Luke's phone buzzes in his pocket that he realizes how much time has passed. He doesn't reach for his phone because that's rude, but it continues to vibrate incessantly and he has no choice.

He quickly apologizes to Julie, who waves him off.

Luke pulls off to the side and Julie busies herself with checking her own phone. The many vibrations are coming from their Sunset Curve group chat, namely from Alex. Luke's heartbeat picks up before he even opens the messages. His eyes scan the screen quickly. Alex's messages are nearly incoherent, a jumble of words and random letters but Luke quickly understands.

ADFAGDJFSHFNG SFFSVVBAAKG

THEY GOOGLEBS US

WE SIGNGG CONTRATS TOMORROWS

They googled us.

We sign a contract tomorrow.

Luke doesn't mean to stop breathing, but he does. He only dials back into planet Earth when Julie gently touches a hand to his arm. "Luke? Are you okay?" She pulls him closer to the wall.

"I —" He doesn't even know how to explain it. His jaw can't seem to close. "We, um — we met with a producer after our gig. She said she was going to talk to her boss and then call us."

Julie's face immediately lights up.

"That was Alex," Luke continues numbly. "They said they googled us. They want us to sign a contract tomorrow."

Julie's jaw drops in solidarity. "A contract? Like a record deal?"

Luke's neck snaps up to look at her, a smile breaking out over his features.

Holy fucking shit, it's really happening.

"Luke! Congratulations!" Julie immediately launches herself into his arms, boundaries be damned. Luke doesn't mind a single bit, arching his back to lift her off her feet.

He's so happy; he throws all caution out to the wind.

"I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you in the crowd of my show."

Julie's arms lower and her lips split in shock.

The hesitation in her eyes only lasts for a moment.

"I think I have too."

It's all the acknowledgment he needs before he sneaks a hand to cradle her cheek. The sun is slowly setting, but the rays are hitting her cheeks just right. Her dark eyes drop to his lips before they fan closed across her cheeks. Luke sucks in a deep breath, then gently presses his lips against hers, slotting his lips perfectly in between.

It's short, simple, sweet and chaste.

Luke isn't trying to overdo it on their first date. He wasn't even planning on kissing her today, to be perfectly honest. But inspiration and opportunity struck, and he couldn't help himself.

He's pleasantly surprised when Julie secures his head with both hands and surges forward to capture his lips once again. This kiss is nothing like the first; Julie is completely in control, and when her tongue slips into his mouth, chaste isn't really the word he'd use to describe it.

His eyes are easily hooded when she pulls away with a smirk.

And she believed he wasn't invested yet?

"Thought you deserved a proper congratulations. It's not everyday you score a record deal."

Luke swallows harshly, hand crawling into the hair on the back of his head. "Appreciate that," he coughs out.

God, he really needs to learn to be much smoother around her.

As much as Julie enjoys his company and would like to spend even more time with him, this is a special moment for him and it wasn't her he should be with.

Julie lets her hand slide down his arm, squeezing his wrist gently. "I had fun today. But I think you should go be with your band."

An excited grin spreads across his face as he leans down and presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek; Julie can only giggle. "Thank you!" He excitedly taps her nose before starting to run away. He turns momentarily and shouts, "I'll call you!" Then he runs off, leaving Julie laughing.

Julie doesn't expect one of the worst days of her life to lead to the best.

But it does.

Luke is infectious. He invades her life so easily and he fits, regardless of the differences.

He understands her baggage and he gives her the time and space necessary to heal. She learns his triggers and recognizes when he needs her and when he needs space. They're respectful of each other's boundaries and it's what makes their relationship work.

Luke surprises her every day.

Sometimes he'll crawl into bed late at night, when Julie has already snoozed off from a long day at work. He'll do his best not to wake her but he misses her all day and can't wait to tell her he wrote a new song. About her. Because all his songs are about her.

When he finds himself in a writing mood, Julie will sit next to him, binging the latest tv show or playing BuzzFeed quizzes on her phone. It doesn't matter what she does, he just needs her there next to him as his inspiration. Sometimes her presence is a distraction more than anything and he'll throw his songbook to the side, pressing his lips to her neck as she loses herself in a fit of giggles.

She's there when their first album is officially released. She's there at their first official show under the new label. She's always cheering him on backstage, his good luck charm.

When they go on their first official tour, she can't attend because she can't leave her work for that long (not that he would want her to anyway, he understands how much she loves her job). It's the first time they're apart for that long, and it hurts but they're mature about it. Instead, they fill the time with late-night phone calls and FaceTime sessions. When he surprises her at home a day early, she nearly throws the bowl she wiping down at his face, then hurriedly jumps into his awaiting arms.

And it isn't often, but sometimes they fight. They're both especially opinionated and like to get in the last word. When it comes to each other, it can sometimes get heated and often they may say something they don't actually mean. Julie loves to sneak out onto the balcony after a fight; the breeze helps her cool down and look at things with more clarity. Luke can't stand the thought of Julie being angry with him, so it never took long before he followed her out onto the balcony. She would quickly crawl into his inviting lap, they would apologize to each other and talk about things more rationally. Sometimes, all it took was the cold breeze and Luke's soft lips against Julie's temple to calm them down.

It's the relationship they've both always dreamed about but never thought they could actually have.

Sure, Luke's fame sometimes comes with a price, but their love for each other trumps everything else.

He eventually allows Julie to ink his skin like she's expressed so many times she would love to do. He gets a matching Sunset Curve tattoo on his bicep with Alex and Reggie; it's simple, just their logo. He trusts Julie and only Julie to do it; he doesn't need anyone witnessing his pain and she's already too far gone to leave him solely because he nearly passes out from a tattoo.

(She also distracts him with soft kisses and no one else could do that.)

When he walks by a jewellery store one day and the pull is too strong to ignore, he knows with one-hundred percent certainty that this is the path he wants to take.

And when he drops to one knee at the most inconvenient of times because she found the velvet box hidden at the bottom of his sock drawer, his plans for a fancy proposal escape his mind immediately. Her hands fly to cover the gasp escaping her mouth, eyes clouding with tears.

Her answer is yes, always yes.

And every year when the anniversary of Rose's death comes around, Luke looks to Julie for guidance on what she needs. It takes time and strength, but with Luke's help, she's able to visit her mother's grave, drop off some dahlias and tell Luke all about the goddess that used to be her mother.

He often wishes he got the chance to meet her because he knows he would have loved her. Every time he visits Rose's grave, he silently promises to love and honour her daughter for as long as he lives. He hopes that's enough to help her soul continue to rest in peace.

At every visit, Julie would wrap her arm around Luke's and lean her head against his shoulder.

He never realizes it originally, but Julie believes her mom is responsible for their meeting, and she makes sure to thank her every visit.

"Thank you, mom," she murmurs quietly. "Thank you for bringing Luke to me."

44 notes · View notes

thekrazykeke · 4 years ago

Text

See You Again [2]

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Relationship(s): Uta & reader.

Summary: in the sound of silence, we found sanctuary. in every word unspoken, love.

Warning(s): Angst, unspoken feelings. Pre-canon events but also very ambiguous timeline-wise. Disturbing mental imagery. Canon typical gore.

This little series was never meant to have a happy ending, so no screaming at me. I’ll accept your appreciation for my love of angst in reblogs, likes, comments or tears.

Seriously though, in all honesty, I hurt myself as I wrote this.

I dunno, I might indulge that impulsive urge of mine and write a one shot where they actually get together. Most likely not though, so no one hold their breath ahahaha.

[i.]

A smart person would never have returned to the little out of the way mask shop in the 4th Ward. You’d have chalked up the experience as weird and as common sense dictated, forgotten all about it.

That is the safer route, the sane option.

So of course, you decided to be stupid. You kept coming back to the shop, although you were careful with how you planned your visits, spacing them out in between sight seeing and being a general tourist.

The added bonus of your frequent visits being that although Uta’s face didn’t really change much expression-wise, you got the feeling that he was always a little surprised to see you.

“Do you really like it here that much?”

Pulling the oni mask away from your face, you glanced at Uta who stood a good distance away from you, hand in pocket, hip cocked against the edge of the counter. “What’s that now?”

“I said, ‘do you really like it here that much?’” Uta repeated himself, red on black eyes intently trained on your face. “This is the second time this week you’ve come by without buying anything.”

“Oof.” You exaggeratedly clutched at your chest. “That hurt, Uta-san. With how frequently I come by here, one would think you’d treat me as more than a customer. We’re friends now.”

“We’re not.”

The words are stated so bluntly and again, you clutch at your chest, miming being struck by an arrow. Uta didn’t respond to your joking around and playing, just stared at you. So, you cut the crap, reaching into your back pocket with a mock pout. “How much for this mask? I think it suits me.”

“10504.50 yen.” At the sight of your suddenly wide eyes and dropped jaw, Uta’s blank expression cracked, he smiled slightly and just for a split second. “Also, the mask doesn’t suit you.”

You turned your back to him, carefully returning the oni mask to the display it’d been set up on. The next second you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin at how close Uta is now. “Hey now! Shit, you need a bell or something.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention.”

You can’t even pull off your comedic routine and drop your head in an ‘ashamed’ manner because you’d probably most likely hit your head against his chest, he’s standing that close. Before you could ask him to either back up and inquire what was his reason for being in your personal space, a tattooed finger reached out, lightly touching your chin, encouraging you to look up, so that’s what you did.

“...I can create a mask for you. Something that suits you.” He’s now adjusting your face, the faintest touch causing you to move this way and that.

“Aww! That’s nice of you, Uta-sa-”

“The base color would be silver, perhaps. And the eyes would sewn shut, the better to hide your grief and... the anger.” He’s musing aloud, words quiet and almost a whisper, but you heard him. Part of you think it’s deliberate, that he’s making fun of you, mocking you.

And it worked.

You reached a hand up, setting it upon his wrist. Uta blinked, staring down at your hand, then his unique gaze switched to you, and he.... for a lack of better words, it’s like he snapped out of that artist’s mode. He dropped his hand and took one step out of your personal bubble then another and another before whirling around and started walking away.

He lifted a hand in farewell, waving it about in a sort of shooing manner.

“Come back again in two to three weeks.”

That should have been the end of you and his interactions.

Regardless of how intriguing he is, he’d pressed on one of your triggers, maybe even on purpose, and you already had too short of a life to put up with the bullshit. Then again, maybe it was for that reason entirely that you decided that you were gonna keep seeing him, even after he finished the mask, to annoy him to death of course.

Until he told you upfront to go away, you wouldn’t. That’s what you decided.

And with that resolution settled in your head, you could go about your business. You enjoyed the sights, the food, and although your judgement said it’d be a bad idea, you had a couple of one night stands. The first is a lawyer that you’re like pretty sure has kids and a wife, and the other is a stressed college kid.

The experience left you unsatisfied and irritated.

Since your last encounter with Uta had been...awkward and strained, you decided to bring a peace offering. Cream puffs for yourself with green tea and a cup of black coffee for him. You’d picked up on the fact that he liked the beverage without sugar and cream like the total heathen he is. You idly wondered if he even enjoyed sweet things or maybe he was one of those weird folks who liked sour and spicy stuff all the time.

The fact that you’re even thinking about this and it didn’t sink in as odd or out of place until the moment you crossed the threshold of HYSY Studios, taking note of the fact that the place is as gloomy and empty of customers as always.

“’Ey! Uta, where you at!?”

There’s a vibration against your leg. You juggle the items in your hold carefully before tugging out your cellphone and entering the passcode to unlock the phone. The most recent text message you’d received from Uta about four minutes ago informed you of the fact that he’s in the back of the studio, like the very, very back, where all the unused and returned masks were. Now the only reason you knew all this information is because of how often you pestered Uta about it.

You’re at an impasse.

You could do as he asked and bring your treat to him while you were at it or you could wait and avoid the potential jump scare that Uta was totally capable of inflicting upon you.

‘To go or not to go, that is the question.’

Everything pointed to the clear conclusion that no, you absolutely should not go back there. Every horror movie cliché ended with the female protagonist being killed or gravely injured because she was so stupid as to go in the dark, alone, by herself.

‘Uta isn’t a killer though.’ That’s what you tried to tell yourself, the argument weak and pitiful in your brain.

You did not know this man well enough to be in the back where it wouldn’t be easy access to the front door, where you couldn’t bolt if he did something strange. However, you did own a mini taser and always carried mace, just as a precaution, so...

So....

Slowly, reluctantly, you did as he instructed, every warning and life training you’d received up to this point in your life sending out red neon signs telling you to wait, not be an idiot, to please please stay where you are. And you ignored all those survival instincts, heading deeper into the studio, your footfalls loud and eerie the further in you went.

Until you find him.

He’s apparently unfazed by your belated presence, focus wholly consumed with his work. Red on black eyes glanced at you for but a moment and what you carried and then at the coffee. “There’s a mini fridge, leave everything there, except the coffee. I’m almost done.”

Having some mild experience with artists and creative sorts, you avoid looking at the mask he’s working on, instead setting down the coffee in an empty space he vaguely gestured to.

Then you walk the short distance to where the only mini fridge in the room is, reaching out, you pull it open. And it’s the scent that alerts you; the fresh tang of blood. It’s too late to stop yourself and you see it, everything. The jar of eyeballs, the carefully wrapped packages of ‘meat’.

‘I’m in a back room with the potential copycat Jeffery Dahmer or...or....’

You’re not an idiot, all these little things you’d casually dismissed because you hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, to see... And now here you are. Here you are.

Fuck.

Swallowing, you calm and dampen the inner voice sCREAMING, then casually as possible, grip wobbling only slightly, do you put your treat inside the mini fridge right alongside the human body parts and flesh, then close the door, turning around.

Uta is still hard at work on the mask but his movements are slowing down.

As if nothing is amiss, you stride over just as he finally pauses to take a sip of coffee. “This is one of the ways that you make masks. Really. That’s interesting…” And you meant it too. Legs crossed, you leaned against the table, watching the mask maker in his element.

He smiles at you in that enigmatic way. “Thank you.”

The visit continues without much else in the way of incidents and subtly unsubtle revelations.

You don’t really talk and Uta doesn’t make you.

Less than twenty minutes later, once he deems the mask complete, he stands up and stretches, arms raising overhead, revealing an expanse of creamy, pale, lean and muscled torso.

Glancing away a beat too late, you catch Uta as he smiles, again, the smile lengthens into a smirk. He reaches out and plucks up the half mask delicately, taking a step towards you and your heart traitorously lurches in your chest.

Self-preservation makes you want to run as he comes closer, closer, closer...

Logic keeps you rooted in place as he carefully puts the mask on you. Tattooed fingers brush the strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, lingering as he feels the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips.

“Your heart is racing like a hummingbird.” he muses. You stare out at him from beneath the safety of the mask, the bone surprisingly not pinching or cutting your skin. “And here I thought nothing could scare you.”

“Unfortunately fear makes up the majority of the human psyche.” You can’t help the quip, tone dry. “But you’re my friend, so it’s fine.”

That last comment causes Uta to blink and stare at you in blatant surprise for a minute or two. Then he pulls himself together and shakes his head, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “...I suppose we are friends.”

“Cool. So how much for the mask?” You reach up, about to remove it but Uta swatted at your hands, the action hard enough to sting but not leave damage. You still squawk indignantly anyway.

“It’s free. Creating it got me out of my block, so thank you.” Bringing out a cellphone, he takes a couple pictures with you, making you turn, pose, and pretty much just show off.

Once he’s done, he snags your tea and cream puffs out the fridge, then walks you to the front of the studio, giving a small wave goodbye. Brain swimming with what you just learned, amazed that he hadn’t just killed you straight off, you glance at the chilled green tea in your hand then after mentally shrugging to yourself, you take a sip and shove a cream puff in your mouth.

Hell, after the day you’ve had, you deserve to be rewarded.

Time passes, as it inevitably does.

You receive more calls from Kiani, from other friends and family members, but you are resolute in staying in Japan.

Much to your surprise, you’d actually gotten comfortable being there. Though that might have had something to do with Uta, who you continue to visit, and if he’s surprised or put out, none of that shows on his face. It’s fun to drag him places, to be around him, and you can laugh at his jokes, even the deadpan, making-fun-of-humanity ones.

He even lets you meet his other ghoul friends, Itori and Renji.

Through it all, these changes and fun things, your health slowly, steadily, gets worse even as you and Uta get closer, muddling about in a rather confusing grey area of friends...and more...

As always, the two of you are hanging out, this time you’d dragged him to an amusement park, and he held onto some of the prizes you won, gamely snapped a couple photos of you in ridiculous poses and making silly faces, etc.

It felt like a date.

Like, you’re returning from a date.

When that thought ran through your brain, you automatically looked at Uta, catching sight of his profile in the light of the setting sun and your heart clenched as you realized that he’s beautiful.

It’s with difficulty that you manage to look away but not before he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. “You’re always looking at me… Yet, you never try and get closer…” Uta’s hands are in his pockets and he is barely a foot away. “Does fear keep you at a distance…” He took a step forward.

Coming almost uncomfortably close.

“Or is there another….”

Without conscious thought, you tilt your head up and your lips meet his.

The contact is light, barely a graze, and there’s the cool sensation of his lip ring...it’s odd but hardly distracting. Your heart is beating like a jack rabbit in your chest and you know this isn’t good for you.

As you go to pull away, to disconnect, that’s when Uta finally, finally, responds.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close before tilting his head, leaned in and kissed you again.

There’s nothing teasing or patient about it. He nipped your bottom lip, barely waiting for you to part your lips before his tongue twined and stroked, expertly playing with your own, and you felt a zing of excitement travel down you spine as your tongue lightly grazed his tongue ring.

Your right hand goes to his shoulder, squeezing, holding on desperately as your legs threaten to give out.

Effortlessly, Uta holds you up, his other hand going to the dip of your back, and when you break the kiss to get some air into your burning lungs, Uta peppers feather light kisses down the column of your throat, sucking a spot just behind your ear. Only when you gasp his name, a mere whisper of a breath really, only then, does he finally stop.

Uta tops that....bombardment off with a light kiss to your forehead, lingering. Then he murmurs into your ear, “That’s how you kiss me from now on.”

With his piece said, as if he hadn’t pretty much swept you off your feet and left you stuck in LaLa Land, Uta brushed a hand down his shirt, straightening out imaginary wrinkles, before he walked away. It took a few seconds for your brain to reboot and then you hurried after him, chastising him for being mean.

There are a hundred different words that lingered on the edge and never escape your mouth. A thousand questions you never got the answer to.

There are no more kisses between you and Uta.

You pass away in your sleep that night December 31, 2XXX at 11:59 P.M. alone in your rented hotel room, dreaming of an impossible reality; of happiness between yourself and the ghoul who for a brief moment, made you feel important, seen, and desired.

Almost as if he could love you.

#uta #tokyo ghoul #uta imagine #black reader #uta tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul imagine #uta x reader #tg #human reader #tg imagine #thekrazykeke

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

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Inmate Intimacy pt. 3 (Nessian)

Here’s the final part! I’ll be working on some asks in my box next :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

______________________________________________________________

~Cassian~

As soon as the phone clicked through, Cassian told his best friend, “Get me the hell out of here.”

“Hello to you, too, asshat,” Rhysand grumbled. “You realize you’re calling me at seven in the morning?”

“I don’t dictate when phone privileges are,” Cassian practically growled back.

He knew he should be a little grateful Rhys had even taken his case for free, but right now he couldn’t care less.

If he didn’t get released soon, he was bound to do something amazingly stupid with Nesta which she’d probably come to regret. And he couldn’t have her regretting their first time together.

So he felt perfectly justified as he yelled, “Get your ass out of bed and get me out of here!”

A pause.

Then Rhys asked, perfectly calm, “Did someone make you their bitch or something?”

Yes.

“No. There’s just a- just figure something out, man.” He let a little of the sexual frustration and overall desperation seep into his voice. “Please.”

A heavy sigh. “Well, I was going to just surprise you, but since you’re yelling at me, you’re getting released tomorrow, jackass.”

Cassian couldn’t help himself from shouting, “What the fuck!”

Another sigh. “I was just going to come get you. Should be tonight at like six.”

Serotonin and pure fucking happiness shot through him like a bullet, and he laughed. “That’s perfect.”

“Something tells me you don’t want me to pick you up.”

“Your intuition,” he told his friend seriously, “is astounding. Thanks, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m amazing. I’m going back to sleep.”

The line went dead, and he laughed again. He’d been prepared for another week or something, but tonight? In less than twelve hours? Hell, yes.

Still grinning like a complete dumbass, he turned and strode down the hallway, starting to think about his plan for the evening.

~Nesta~

Today had been a long day.

No, strike that. Today had been the longest day of her life.

Besides an early visit from Inmate #9356--during which they somehow managed to keep their hands off each other--nothing exciting had happened.

Actually, her appointment with Cassian had even been pretty boring. He’d come in for all of two minutes for his shot and had stared at her with the biggest, most obnoxious grin on his face the whole time. As soon as she’d given him a cotton ball, he’d hopped off the table, slapped a kiss to her cheek, and disappeared.

Weird, but the man wasn’t exactly normal.

Checking her watch, she noticed it was time to get out of here.

Fucking finally.

A hot bath and a huge glass of wine were practically calling her name.

After quickly changing from her scrubs into jeans and a sweatshirt, she headed towards the exit. She nodded at the guard, getting a little confused when he winked and wagged his eyebrows but figuring it was probably just her imagination.

But when the front gate slowly swung open, revealing who stood in the parking lot, everything clicked into place.

Cassian was leaning against a jet black muscle car, arms crossed over his chest, smiling at her.

If that wasn’t an indicator that he’d been released, his change of attire sure as hell was. He was in dark jeans, boots, and a tight black t-shirt that clung to him and showcased his build. His tattoos were on full display, and his curly hair was down for once, blowing softly in the wind.

In short, he looked like every dream Nesta had ever had in her life stuffed into one human being.

She walked up to him, suddenly well aware she probably looked like garbage next to him, and said, “You know, it’s probably not wise to hang around after breaking out of prison.”

He just laughed and extended a hand to her, the silent demand clear.

Nesta walked into his arms, put her head against his chest, and smiled happily. Without even looking, she could tell he was mimicking the expression.

“I got released, baby,” he finally said, pulling back to run a thumb over her cheek. “So I figured I’d take you up on your very generous offer to let me buy you a drink.”

“I’m in jeans and a sweatshirt,” she told him, shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere nice.”

“You always look beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes, hiding a smile behind her hand. Cassian stepped away from the car and opened the door for her. “Let’s go.”

Too easy. “Wow, getting the door for me? The system really helped reform you, didn’t it?”

He stuck his tongue out at her like the very mature gentleman he was. “Just get in the car. Please.”

“Such good manners, too,” she murmured as she gave in and slid in the passenger seat.

Snuggling down into the surprisingly comfortable seat, she noticed how the smell she’d associated with him--smoke and earth and honey--was amplified in here. Gods, he smelled good.

She inhaled deeply, blushing when Cassian settled in next to her and noticed. He gave her a satisfied smile and cranked the car up.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going on a very fancy, very formal date to my favorite bar,” he said with a grin. Then he suddenly looked at her with a nervous glance, “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

The way he said vegetarian made it sound like martian.

She shook her head. A burger actually sounded pretty great right about now.

Twenty minutes later, said burger was placed in front of her, along with a beer and a huge container of fries.

And if you thought her side of the table was fattening, Cassian’s was a hundred times worse.

Nesta picked up her burger and started to eat, watching the man across from her and trying to suppress a smile. She’d never thought anyone eating would be funny, but that was before she’d seen a former inmate taste something besides not-really-meat-meatloaf in a month.

He finished off his first burger and grabbed the second, a happy little smile on his face.

“You eat like a crazy person,” she told him.

Golden eyes flashed up to hers. “Fuck like one, too.”

She choked on her fry, hiding it behind a cough. To change the subject, she asked, “So what do you do? When you’re not in prison, of course.”

“Such a funny woman.” He rolled his eyes. “I do a lot of random stuff, like occasionally work at my friend Azriel’s bar, but mostly I’m a trainer.”

“Makes sense.”

The look in his eye said he knew, but he asked, “Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “You either eat small children for breakfast or work out a lot.”

“What about you?”

Giving him a look, she replied, “I’m a nurse, Cassian.”

“I know, smartass. But what about when you’re not working?”

“I read a lot.” And watch reality shows. “And I run sometimes.”

He stole some fries off her plate and asked, “What were you going to do tonight? Before you got swept off your feet by a handsome criminal?”

“My feet are still on the ground,” she assured him with a smirk. “I was going to take a bath and drink a lot of wine. Very exciting life I live, I know.”

Suddenly, he was on his feet, throwing a couple bills on the table. “Well, let’s go. I’d hate to disrupt your evening further.”

Even though she knew that was a flat-out lie, she took his outstretched hand and followed him back to his car. “Where to now?”

“My apartment.”

“How presumptuous,” she commented, even though she got in without argument.

“Not for that reason, you pervert,” he said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m just trying to show you I have somewhere to live with more than four walls.”

“Mmhm.”

He grinned, reaching over to put a hand on her thigh. Unable to help it, she traced the lines of his tattoo, down each finger, over his hand, up his forearm.

“Nesta,” he murmured, voice a little deeper. “Stop distracting me.”

You know when someone tells you not to do something, and it only makes you want to do it more?

Well, that’s what happened.

Or maybe it was just the fact that she couldn’t control herself around him.

Either way, she didn’t listen.

Gripping his hand, she brought it up to her face, then drew one of his fingers into her mouth.

His knuckles went white around the steering wheel, jaw clenched, and his eyes glared at the car in front of them as if that would make it move.

She released his finger, only to lean across the center console and press herself into his arm. She kissed his ear, then tugged on it with her teeth.

He continued to drive, silent and broody, as she moved down to his neck. There was something about the way his skin felt against her lips that drove her insane.

She dragged her tongue up the column of his neck, smiling when he released a low groan.

But after about ten more seconds, he snapped. “Alright, you either sit in your seat like a good girl or I pull this car over and bend you over the hood.”

Nesta kissed the side of his mouth. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

He growled and pressed the gas pedal a little harder, so she relented and slid back to her side with a smile. His hand went back to her thigh, gripping more tightly this time.

Finally, he pulled up in front of a nice apartment building and threw the car in park. Before she could even move to get out of the car, he’d sprinted around, thrown her door open, and scooped her up.

“In a hurry?” she teased, secretly urging him to walk faster.

He pinched her behind. “Yes.”

Cassian carried her through the lobby and into an elevator, then down a hall and into his apartment. Or rather, through his apartment.

He immediately strode through the kitchen and living room, then tossed her onto his bed. Before she could take a look around at her surroundings, he was prowling on top of her, lips finding hers.

Normally, she’d be opposed to someone acting like this, but it had been a month of being so close to him, forced to look at him every day without doing what she wanted.

And he was finally free, and it was finally happening.

So she pulled him closer, sliding her hands under the back of his shirt.

He reached over his head and yanked it off, then did the same with her sweatshirt. His mouth went to her neck as his hands snuck behind her back, and then her bra was on their growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Her back arched as he moved his attention to her breasts, and she let out a moan that was loud enough to make her very, very glad they hadn’t done this in her office.

Then he was kissing her again, and she lost herself in him. His tongue slid in her mouth, caressing hers, and he sucked on her lip in the most distracting way.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tight to her, and she giggled as he reared back, picked her up, and moved them higher on the bed.

Cassian took her wrists from around his neck and pressed them into the mattress above her head, then kissed her softly. “Do you trust me?”

Normally, a question like that would make her run for the hills, but somehow she found herself replying, “Yes.”

He gave her that insufferably cocky grin, then moved his hand, and-

Oh my gods.

No, he didn’t!

Nesta looked up at the handcuff encircling her wrist, mouth hanging open in shock. She was so distracted she couldn’t even fight as he trapped the other, leaving her powerless underneath him.

“Cassian.”

He ran his fingers lightly down both her arms, and goosebumps appeared in his wake. “Funny feeling, isn’t it?”

“Let me loose.”

He just cocked his head, dark hair slipping over his brow. “Is that what you really want?”

She considered that.

It was what she wanted, right? Right?

Not in the fucking slightest, her brain informed her helpfully.

Shit.

“You did it to me, after all,” he reasoned, hands moving to splay over her ribs, fingers barely brushing the underside of her breasts. “Consider it payback.”

This was absolutely insane.

She didn’t point out that he’d been handcuffed by her for all of ten seconds. Instead, she did something incredibly stupid and said, “I guess it’s alright, then.”

He smiled broadly, hands going to the button on her jeans and snapping it open. Nesta’s breath hitched, but she managed to keep eye contact with him as he slowly pulled her pants down, taking her underwear with them.

He sat back on his heels, looking her over with dark golden eyes, and she squirmed.

Then, after pressing one more kiss to her lips, he slid down the bed and moved her legs over his shoulders.

Oh, gods.

She stared into his golden eyes, unable to move even without the cuffs, as he slowly lowered his mouth to her and placed a single, soft kiss against her skin.

Then he winked like the insufferable bastard he was, leaned down further, and got serious about what he was doing.

Nesta’s back arched, her arms pulling helplessly against the cuffs. Cassian gripped her hips, keeping her still, and she was utterly powerless underneath him as he continued to work her.

She’d never given control like this to anyone. Generally, she didn’t let her guard down around men, even when they were on top of her. But something about the man kneeling between her legs made her throw all of her rules out the window and just let him do what he wanted.

And she fucking loved it.

One of his hands continued to hold her hips, the other sneaked up across her stomach, over her breasts, and up her throat.

A finger traced her lips, and she parted them under his touch. Cassian made a deep, approving sound as she drew it into her mouth, sucking softly.

Then he pulled the hand away, trailing it back down her body, and moved it between her thighs.

She moaned his name and squirmed, noticing how the metal around her wrists clanked against the headboard.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against her, making her moan again. She could feel the pressure building up inside her, and as if he could sense it, too, Cassian added another finger.

Release finally found her, making breath leave in a harsh whoosh, but he kept working her until the waves had ebbed and she was limp underneath him.

He pulled back, looking up at her with golden eyes that were heavy with lust. Dragging his tongue across his bottom lip, he smiled and made a self-satisfied, male sound.

If she was being honest, he deserved to.

What he’d done hadn’t been new to her in the slightest, but it had never felt... quite like that. She’d never come from that before, and the realization made her mutter, “I was right. You do eat like a crazy person.”

Cassian prowled up her body, dropping searing kisses occasionally, and then tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth. “And do you remember what I said back?”

Fuck like one, too.

She nodded.

“I think it’s time I prove that.” Gods, please, yes. “Do you want me to take these off?” He rattled the handcuffs.

Surprising herself, and probably him too, she shook her head.

For some reason, being underneath him, subject to whatever he wanted to do, made her lose her mind in the best way possible.

His eyes went almost black as he grinned and said, “I’m going to fucking marry you one day.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and laughed, but it was cut short by the sight of him leaning back to unbutton his jeans. Once he’d pulled them off, allowing her to take in the full sight of him, her mouth went a little dry.

“You keep looking at me like that, and this will be over before it even starts,” he warned, voice husky with need.

She forced herself to look back up at his gaze, and he moved to brace himself on his elbows above her. Nesta leaned up to kiss him, then watched his brow furrow in concentration as one hand snuck between them.

Her eyes drifted shut as he started to slide in, but he paused and said, “Keep your eyes open. I want you to see what you do to me.”

Even though it felt impossible, she opened them again and did what he asked. His jaw was tight, shoulders and arms stiff as he held himself above her, body seeming to teem with pent up energy as he let her adjust.

He looked... helpless.

She was the one in cuffs, but he looked utterly helpless against whatever he was feeling.

“Now you see why I was in a hurry,” he gruffed.

And then he started to move.

At the first push of his hips, Nesta realized it might have been a mistake to keep her wrists bound. She pulled against them instinctively as he moved, the knowledge that she couldn’t touch him messing with her mind.

A low groan tore out of his throat, and she almost came from the sound alone.

“Fuck, Nesta.”

He kissed her, lips hard and demanding and perfect against hers. A hand lifted her lips slightly, causing him to hit a different spot inside her, and she moaned into his mouth. “Right there. Oh, gods, please.”

It was the first time she’d ever asked him for something, and to say he delivered would be the understatement of the century.

His hips pounded into her, exactly in the spot that drove her crazy, and she barely had time to move hers in rhythm before the next attack came.

He dipped his head to kiss her throat, sucking at the spot where it met her shoulder, and she came with a loud groan, eyes rolling back in her head a little.

Cassian didn’t stop, though.

He didn’t so much as slow down.

It seemed as if a month in prison had built up just a little sexual frustration, and he was taking it all out on her at once.

He braced a hand on her leg, then threw it over her shoulder, going deeper still. “Oh, fuck,” she groaned.

Her legs started to shake as the buildup inside of her grew and grew and grew.

“Nesta,” he panted, picking up his pace a little. “Come for me.”

The sound of his voice did it for her, and she fell over the edge with a loud cry, this time dragging him with her. His eyes drifted shut, and his mouth collapsed against her as he groaned.

Then he stilled on top of her, both of them breathing heavily.

After a few moments, he pulled back and surveyed her face with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

I probably won’t be able to walk for a week. She nodded, unable to even form the words to explain how she felt at the moment. “That was...”

“Yeah,” he agreed, shaking his head.

They continued to stare at each other, both lost for words. Then he reached up, and a moment later her hands were free. She brought them to his face, brushing his hair back.

He frowned at the red skin around her wrists, rolling over and out of the bed before she could tell him they didn’t even hurt.

She heard the rush of water, and a few minutes later, he came back with a smile.

Cassian scooped her into his arms, carried her into his bathroom, and deposited her in the tub.

The tub that was full of warm, bubbly water.

A fat glass of wine was in her hand a second later.

“Well, you did say you didn’t want to disrupt my evening.”

He grabbed his own glass, then climbed in the tub across from her. Part of her wondered why the hell he had a bathtub this big, and she would’ve asked if it hadn’t been for the sight of him sitting across from her.

Bubbles clung to his chest, stark against his tattoos. His hair was wet from the hand he dragged through it, and he had a soft, happy smile on his lips.

He cocked his head as she stared at him, taking a sip from his glass. “I like the way you look at me.”

Nesta blushed. “How do I look at you?”

A smile. “Like you want to handcuff me and have your way with me.”

She bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. “Well, it is your turn.”

______________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Your comments mean the fucking world to me :)

@sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @perseusannabeth @studyliketate @cursebreaker29 @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @awesomelena555 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @sistermargreat @nessiantho @illyrianwitchling13 @carmenangels299 @wickedqueenoffantasy @starrynightsbooks @candice-dick-fit-in-your-mouth @sensitiveillyrian @lovemollywho @thewayshedreamed @strangeenemy @ships-and-saints @magikfanatic @jjellybean @carbconnoisseur @jlinez @verypaleninja @yumna402 @spyofthenightcourt @empress-ofbloodshed @keshavomit @rhyswhitethorn @acourtofmarauders @ladywitchling @shyvioletcat @anunforseeablereader @sjmships @bookstantrash @sleep-deprived-things @booksstorm @superspiritfestival @my-fan-side @greerlunna @arwenbk3

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction

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wayward-dreamer · 4 years ago

Text

If It Was To Work

Title: If It Was To Work

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,949

Warnings: Slight angst, Fluff, Smut, Fingering, p in v, Happy Ending, SPOILERS FOR 15.08 OUR FATHER WHO AREN’T IN HEAVEN

Summary: Dean gave Sam some great advice. Sam just wishes he’d take his own advice sometimes.They had a lot on their plate with their Chuck situation, but that doesn’t mean they can’t take on an old-fashion, black and white case. That also doesn’t mean they can’t go out and celebrate a job well done afterwards.Walking into that bar and seeing you was the last thing Dean thought was going to happen.Maybe Sam’s right. Maybe he should listen to his own advice.**SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR 15.08 OUR FATHER WHO AREN'T IN HEAVEN**

A/N: My first one-shot on Tumblr! Find it on AO3 too! I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Some would probably say that going off to kill some vampires in Iowa while they still have their God problem would be a bad idea.

To Dean, it was the best idea Sam had that week.

He had been itching to get back to a regular, normal, non-Chuck related hunt for weeks and he was very glad to be hacking heads off vamps just outside of Des Moines.

Taking out a cloth from his back pocket, Dean walked towards the Impala as he wiped the cloth down the length of the machete to get the blood off. He dropped the machete into the weapons box, just as Sam came up behind him and did the same. Dean shut the trunk and walked over to the driver’s side, getting in and starting the engine.

“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a cool one” Dean smirked, as the radio started.

Sam nodded. “You know what, let’s do it.”

Dean frowned. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean we haven’t done a victory beer at a bar in a while, so why not?” Sam shrugged.

“Okay.” Dean said, looking between Sam and the road. “Better take this opportunity now before you change your mind.”

Sam rolled his eyes, as he scrolled through his phone. Dean continued to drive for about 15 minutes before they spotted a roadside bar. He pulled the Impala up into an empty spot, before shutting the engine off. He got out of the car, as Sam followed behind him.

“You grab a spot, I’ll get the beers” Sam said, as he took in the large gathering within the bar.

Dean looked around the bar, taking in his surroundings. They hadn’t done this in a long time, and he was glad that they didn’t have to get back to the Bunker straight away. No one had any leads on Chuck, so they could take a day if they wanted to. At this point they needed to. As his eyes roamed over the patrons, they stopped on one person in particular.

She leaned over the pool table, lining up the shot, giving him a great view of her ass in the dark blue jeans that she wore. Round, perky and irresistible. Perfect. As she stood from taking the shot, Dean caught a glimpse of the tattoo she had on her right arm; a sleeve of vines and flowers. She laughed, as the two burly men they were playing with forked over a roll of cash each. The girl had confidence. Dean smirked, already taking out some cash to buy her a drink. Something about her felt familiar, though, as he continued to admire her.

When she turned away from her friend and faced the rest of the bar, it hit him like a fucking Mack Truck. A flood of memories flashed through his mind, all at once, knocking the wind out of him.

Y/N. Y/N was here. In the same bar as him. After all these years of never having run into each other, not even on a hunt, and here she was.

Damn it. This had to be Chuck’s doing, right?

He suddenly heard a snapping sound and saw something waving in front of his face. He shook his head and looked away, facing Sam. His brother was wide-eyed and confused, his forehead creased as he looked at him.

“Dean, where the hell were you?” he asked.

Dean shook his head again, lifting the beer to his lips and taking a large gulp from it. “N-nothing. I mean, nowhere. Nothing. Shut up.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, bewildered by Dean’s sudden odd behaviour. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” Dean started to answer Sam but when he looked up, he saw that Y/N was walking towards the bar.

She was wearing a tight black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and her Y/C/H flowing behind her as she walked. However, much like him, she took in her surroundings and stopped in her tracks when she saw him. Sam saw Dean go completely still and wondered what was happening. He turned around and knew straight away what was going on. No wonder he was acting strangely. Dean slowly got up from the stool at their high top, leaving his drink behind. As he hesitantly walked closer to Y/N, her eyes widened in shock. He was just a few inches away from her when he took in her features. She hadn’t changed; she was still as beautiful as ever.

Y/N took him in. How was it possible that the man became more attractive with age? She looked past him at Sam, who gave her a small smile. She couldn’t believe that in all the years since she and Dean parted ways, she would be seeing them again now and in the most random of bars.

“H-hi” she squeaked out, as she moved closer to Dean.

Dean nodded. “Hey.”

She brushed her knuckles together, as she looked around the room. She was trying to avoid looking at him too long, for fear that she might burst into tears.

“How are you?” she asked, only glancing at him before looking away again.

A sad smile crossed Dean’s face when he realised what she was doing. She was forgetting how well he knew her.

“Have I really changed that much that you can’t look at me?” he said, in the most light-hearted manner he could muster up, but it still held a sadness behind it.

She finally looked up at him. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You’d be surprised” Dean grimaced, wishing he had brought his drink over with him.

Everything else in that bar faded into the background as Dean and Y/N continued to look at each other. A range of thoughts and emotions flooded Dean’s mind as he thought back on how they had left things the last time they were together. There was so much about that night that he regretted, the most painful of which he knew was something neither of them had gotten over. It was the greatest regret of his life; letting her go. Pushing her away. What he didn’t know was that she completely understood why he did what did. She always understood.

Y/N looked back at her friend who was still preoccupied by the men they were playing pool with. She turned back to Dean and knew she had a couple of options here. She either walked away and went back to her friend, forgetting about him completely. Or… she asked him to have a drink with her, for old times’ sake. She took a deep breath, ready to ask him and possibly open herself up to being heartbroken again.

“Hey, you wanna grab a drink with me and Sammy?” Dean asked, beating her to it. The same thoughts had been running through his head; about whether or not to ask her.

She smiled properly this time, a full wattage smile that reached her shining eyes. “I’d love that.”

Y/N walked over with Dean to their table and smiled at Sam. Sam immediately got up from his seat and hugged her, causing her to laugh.

“I swear you got bigger somehow” she laughed.

“How are you?” he asked, smiling.

“I’m good” she said, simply. “Honestly can’t complain. I know you two have it worse.”

“What? You been keeping tabs on us?” Dean asked, intrigued as to whether she was or not.

“Not really, but… Garth talks. A lot” she replied, laughing again.

Dean scoffed as he smirked. “Figures.”

They all proceeded to catch up on everything from the past years. Y/N told them how she now had a place in town, somewhere to come back to after a hunt. Sam told her about the Bunker and she was suddenly giddy.

“Oh man, I gotta see it” she smiled.

“Yeah, first time we got there… couldn’t really believe that it was real” Sam said, smiling too.

Dean smirked as he watched Y/N. “You should, you know? See it, I mean. You should uh… You should come over some time.”

Y/N looked at him and smiled softly. “I will.”

Sam looked between Dean and Y/N. He remembered Dean telling him about what happened between them and knew there was a lot of things that were left unfinished between them.

“You know, I’m not feeling too great” Sam said, getting up from his seat. “I’m going to get a cab, head back to our motel. Leave you two to catch up.”

Dean glared at Sam while Y/N wasn’t looking. He knew what he was doing.

“Oh okay, well it was good to see you” she smiled, as she hugged him again.

“You too” Sam said.

As he moved behind her, Sam turned around and gestured to her. Getting Dean’s attention, he mouthed “talk” before he gave Dean a knowing smile and walked away. Dean shook his head but quickly turned back to Y/N before she noticed the silent conversation between him and his brother.

“Another round?” he asked.

“Sure” she replied.

Y/N and Dean sat across from each other, each of them had two empty beer bottles in front of them. They had both moved onto whiskey. Dean brought his glass to his lips, taking a large sip. Y/N turned the glass around in her hands, watching the amber liquid move around.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d see you again” she laughed, the sound of it somewhere between sincere and bitter. “I thought you and Sam were so good at hiding… I’d never run into you.”

Dean huffed. “Small world, I guess.”

She nodded and smiled sadly but didn’t say anything else.

“Listen, Y/N-” Dean started but she placed her hand on top of his to stop him. He looked at her and wondered what was wrong but was confused when she smiled at him.

“Dean, I know you’re about to apologise and you shouldn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong” she said.

“Didn’t do anything wrong? Are you kidding me? I left without even saying goodbye. All I gave you was a fucking note saying I had to go, and I was sorry” he said, his voice angry but lowered so no one heard them.

“Don’t you think I knew why? Dean, I knew you had to go back with your dad. I knew you would do anything for him, how important your family is to you. I get it, Dean. I always have. I don’t hold any of it against you, I don’t blame you for what you did. I never have” she explained, tightening her hold on his hand.

Dean looked up at her, his expression sad and yet bewildered by what she just said. She got it, why he had to leave. She understood.

He suddenly remembered the advice he gave Sam recently about Eileen.

She gets it, you know? She gets us, she gets the life.

It was with the same with Y/N.

If it was to work…

Could it work again? For them? Could they go back to what they were with everything that was going on with Chuck?

You don’t ever think about something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Sam had said that to him once. When he would find himself thinking about Y/N over the years, he always thought about what Sam had said.

Y/N gripped his hand tighter, smiling as she looked down at their hands intertwined. She stroked her thumb over his knuckles, thinking back on all the times she had done it all those years ago.

“I missed you” she said, looking up at him.

Dean looked into her eyes. He could see what she was feeling in that moment because he felt the same. He had a decision to make. Let go of her hand, get in the Impala and drive away, leaving her behind. Or take her hand, go back to her place and pick up where they left off. Option 2 was tempting but he was scared. Scared of what might happen to her if he did. Then the words he said to Sam repeated themselves in his mind. He had to try.

Dean picked up his drink and gulped down the whiskey in one hit. Y/N did the same, knowing what was thinking and being on the same page as him, instantly. He took out a few bills from his wallet and put them under his glass, before taking her hand in his. He led her out of the bar and over to the Impala. Opening the door for her, she sat inside before he walked over to the driver’s side. Getting in behind the wheel, he started up the engine.

“So, where to?” he asked.

She smiled as he turned the radio on. Zeppelin. Just like old times. “Take a left at the exit.”

Dean pulled out of the parking lot and followed Y/N’s directions all the way to her house. When they arrived, he parked outside. It was a small, quaint one-storey, enough for her and maybe even someone else to live in. They got out of the car and he followed behind her as she guided him inside. It was spacious and decorated simply, yet it wasn’t empty by any means. The lounge flowed into the kitchen which had a door to the backyard and outdoor furnishings.

“Nice place” Dean said, looking around.

“It was my parents. When dad died after the ghoul hunt, he gave it to me, but I started hunting instead. When I realised I needed a safe place to come back to, I came back here” she explained.

Y/N walked closer to Dean. “You want another drink?”

He shook his head as she stood in front of him, close enough to smell her perfume.

“No” he replied, simply.

Dean pulled her closer, before he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back, instantly. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his came around her waist. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, their lips still connected. He felt the same, like nothing had changed, and yet it somehow felt new.

She pulled away from the kiss but still kept her lips against his. “Down the hall, on the right.”

She leaned down to press her lips to neck, as he carried her to the bedroom. He was slightly distracted by her lips as he stumbled down the hallway but made it to the room without crashing into things.

She lowered herself from him, her feet firmly on the floor. They didn’t waste any time, as they kissed heatedly and began to remove their clothes. Dean pulled away to take her in as she stripped down to red bra and panties. She was as beautiful as the first time he saw her.

“Fuck” he groaned, as he leaned in and began kissing her neck.

She took his shirt in her hands and pushed it off, only pulling away from him to lift his black shirt over his head.

“Dean” she moaned as her hands roamed his chest.

Dean gently placed his hand behind her head, until she laid down on her back. He sat up to pull her bra off, and leaned in to place kisses along her breasts. His hand wandered down her body, his fingers feeling how wet she already was through her panties. He wanted her so badly, even after all this time apart. He missed her.

His hands trailed her body, feeling her smooth skin against his calloused hands. She whimpered, feeling his rough yet light, soothing touch. She closed her eyes as she thought about how they were in the past, and how much she still wanted him. So much time had passed since they were last together like this, but he still remembered the right pressure and movements that drove her crazy. He pulled her panties down her legs and slowly ran his fingers along her pussy.

“Dean” she sighed, in a needy whisper. She pushed herself up on her elbows and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Can we… can we do that later? I just…”

Dean smirked and leaned forward, nudging his nose against hers. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip as she looked into his eyes, just as lust blown as hers. “I want you inside me.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, passionately, before he shifted back. He wasn’t about to waste any more time with her.

He quickly pushed his boxers down before he moved closer to her. Y/N pulled him as close as she could to her, wrapping her arms around his neck as he settled himself between her legs. He pressed his lips against hers, as his hands moved her legs to wrap around his waist, trying to get even closer to her if that was possible. She reached down between their bodies and took his length in her hand, holding it near her entrance. Dean moved his hips forward as he looked down at her, his cock slowly pressed into her. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed, a small smile spread across her face. When he was fully inside her, he waited. He wanted to do this right and not rush things. Apparently Y/N had other ideas though, as she combed her fingers through his hair roughly, and pulled him in with her legs.

“Dean” she gasped against his lips. “Please move.”

Dean chuckled softly, kissing her once. “Someone’s impatient.”

She gripped his hair tighter and groaned. He glared down at her playfully as she winked, her eyes glinting with mischief. He shook his head and smirked, leaning down to kiss her once again.

Dean pushed his hips forward and then back. He set a slow pace, thrusting carefully and taking his time. She leaned up and kissed his neck, biting his collar bone as her arms wrapped tighter around him. They looked into each other’s eyes, seeing all the years of longing for each other and how much they still loved each other.

“Dean” she moaned. “Harder.”

Dean wrapped his arms around her back and sat up. He leaned back and sat her in his lap, looking right into her eyes and their arms came around each other. She moaned into his mouth as his lips captured hers, her hands in his hair as her hips rocked against his. His left hand wandered into her hair as his right held onto her hip, his fingers pressing into her flesh.

“Fuck” he groaned, as her hips came down hard, repeatedly.

“Dean… I love you” she said, a hitch in her voice.

His hips begin to rock harder against her, as he pulled her in even closer. He kissed her fiercely, lightly biting her lip.

“Dean, I… oh my God” she moaned loudly, as she kissed her neck, the spot that always drove her crazy.

“Fuck, sweetheart” he huffed. “You feel so damn good.”

“Dean, I… I’m close” she gasped.

Dean could feel it. Her hips started to move faster, stutter slightly as she became overwhelmed with what she was feeling.

“Let go for me, Y/N” he said, looking up at her.

“Dean, I…” she started but cut herself off as she moaned loudly.

Y/N’s eyes shut tightly, as she moaned his name repeatedly through her climax. Dean’s hips moved faster and harder, as he feels his own release. Y/N placed her hands on his neck, as her thumbs ran along his jaw.

“Dean, baby” she moaned sweetly, as she smiled at him. “Cum for me, Dean. Cum inside me.”

“Fuck, Y/N” he grunted as he came, spilling his seed inside her.

He rode out his climax, resting his forehead against her chest. Y/N held him close, her hands in his hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

They came down from their high, breathing heavily. Dean lifted his head and looked up at her, his hand cupping her cheek and bringing her closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss, once, twice. Dean pulled away and looked at her again.

“I love you” he whispered, his breath still laboured from their love making.

Dean slowly pulled out of her, turned and laid down on his back. Y/N laid down next to him and pushed herself closer. He wrapped his arm around her as she laid her head on his chest and hooked her leg around his. They laid there in silence for a while, as they enjoyed the quiet and basked in the afterglow. Dean took a deep breath, trying to figure out what he was going to say next. How he was going to say what he wanted to since they got to her apartment.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, breaking the silence first.

Dean huffed a laugh. Of course, she knew that he wanted to say something.

He took another deep breath. “What would you say… if I said that I… if I said that I wanted to start things up again?” he asked, ripping off the Band-Aid.

Y/N turned and leaned her chin on his chest. Her eyebrows furrowed as she didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“What do you mean?” she asked him.

Dean brushed his hand down her arm, absentmindedly. “I mean that we hunt, together, and then we came back here… or the Bunker… together.”

She smiled softly as she thought about what he meant.

“Some things that have happened recently, they’re… they’re making me think differently about this life. About my life. I just know that now that we’re back here…” Dean explained, taking her hand in his. “I’m not ready to give it up again.”

She sighed as she leaned in and kissed his hand. “Me neither.”

“I know I’m risking everything again, doing this with you. I mean, we’re on God’s radar, and he could strike down at any minute but…” Dean started but stopped when she cut him off with her lips. She kissed him hard, pulling away and leaving him breathless.

“We can do it, Dean. Things are different now… scarier, yeah, sure but… I get it. I know what your life is and what it could mean, I know that joining you means I won’t be a regular, running-after-a-normal-monster hunter anymore. I know it and… I don’t care. Despite everything, despite whatever gets thrown at us… I know we can make it work” she said, as she shifted forward and leaned her forehead against his.

Dean smirked. She gets it. She gets the life. “So… we’re really doing this?”

She grinned back. “Yeah. We are.”

Dean leaned in and kissed her, passionately. He slowly rolled her onto her back, the kiss growing and becoming more intense. They both knew the risks, hell, they knew they could die at any minute, but as long as they had each other they had something more to fight for. The years of missing each other and now finding each other again, it would all be worth it when they got out of this alive. He was determined. They would find a way to get rid of Chuck, they would find a way to live a comfortable life, and when that happened, he wanted Y/N by his side.

The next morning, after the sun had risen and they made love once again, Dean made her breakfast. They ate and laughed together. Dean answered a call from Sam about another hunt he found. Y/N packed up her duffle bag and placed it next to Dean’s in the Impala’s trunk. They smiled at each other as she sat next to him, listening to classic tunes as they went to meet up with Sam and go off on the next hunt.

Together.

#dean x female!reader #dean x female!reader one shot #dean x female!reader smut #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester smut #supernatural smut #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural season 15

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thisentertaining · 4 years ago

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Avatar: The Last Archivist

The main characters from Avatar: The Last Airbender as different Avatars from The Magnus Archives.

I did 14 characters, one for each entity.

Trigger Warnings: Basically every TMA entity. Specifically mentions of claustrophobia, cannibalism, suicide, manipulation, ect.

____

There is a boy, with eyes like a stormcloud, deep and fathomless. He has arrows tattooed on his head, on his arms. When you ask about them he laughs, and says ‘when I’m upside down’ as though that was all the explanation. He asks if you want to do something fun, a roller coaster, skydiving, a trampoline park. When you agree, it is fun, at first. You close your eyes to protect them from the rushing wind. When you open them again, the ground is gone. There is no down. There is only sky, and you are falling. Beside you he laughs, bright and joyous and childlike, though it can hardly be heard over your screams. His arrows are pointed up, wherever that is. As he cannonballs past you for the 3rd, 8th, 19th, 76th time he says that ‘fear is what makes it fun’. His ‘woops’ cover your sobs.

There is a girl, dressed in blue with loops in her dark brown hair. She watches you with soft, sad eyes and says ‘It’s so sad, isn’t it? Being the last.’ ‘The last what?’ you ask, but you know. ‘The last of your kind. There is no one to teach you how to reach your potential. You’ll never be able to train anyone to be like you. You’re the last.’ ‘I am.’ You say, feeling cold as a painful pressure settles on your chest. It feel like you could drown in your loneliness.

There is a boy, one who looks similar to the girl, who loves meat. Grilled, roasted, stuffed, boiled, hunted, farmed or store bought. Any kind of meat, cooked in any manner, at any time. In the moments where he is not eating meat, he is thinking about it. He eats, and he eats, and he eats, until he is long since the point of caring what the meat is. Who the meat is. As he finishes his plate he looks to you and licks his lips.

There is another boy, pale of skin and gold of eye, with a burn that stretches across his face. “I will capture my prey.” He vows. “And then my honor will be restored.” He hunts, and he tracks, and he follows a prey that can never escape. If you find yourself his prey, you can hide and run and fight, but will sone find his claws surrounding you. However, even as he catches you, his mind is on his next target, for his prey is not what he truly seeks. He will never achieve what he really wants, but still he hunts for it. He knows that the capture is the least thrilling part of the chase.

With him travels an older man, a man who is kindly, portly and always grants a smile. He offers you a cup of tea and a game of Pai Sho, but from your first sip and his first move, he Knows you far better than you know yourself. He gives you tea exactly as you like it, and every move you make he has something to meet it. His words are proverbs and pretty saying, but all touch a part of you that he should not know. He Knows. He Sees.

There is an island in this world, where women with painted faces and fans of blades congregate. Practice. Fight. They learn to use the force of others against themselves. They learn to go for the throat They are more willing to fight than to ask questions. In the water there is a monster that they feed the ships that dare get close. In their hearts there is a monster that they feed the souls of those who survive to reach the land. Tearing them apart until blood and bone can be used to paint warnings on their faces.

There is a boy. He is at home in the woods, living in the trees and filth and gime. He collect people. Children. They build homes in bug-filled trees until they have their own hive infesting the forest. A piece of wheat sticks in his mouth, green-blue and fuzzy with mold. He sees sickness in those that invade his home. He sees corruption in those outside of his hive. He stands at the foot of a dam, working on the logs until rot eats through them, purging the woods of the existing host and giving more room for his parasitic hive to grow.

There is a girl with long white hair. She has a kind smile, and mourning eyes. She tells you ‘You’ve always known that this was your fate.’ And you realize that you did. ‘You were given life for a reason, it makes sense that this would be asked of you.’ It did. What reason did you have to live except for this. You always knew it would come to this. ‘You are doing this for your people. It is your duty. It is a noble sacrifice.” You nod. You take whatever it is she offers you. And you End.

There is a man who is in the dark. He does not see truth, does not see life. He walks in the dark and in doing so imagines himself bigger than he is, and imagines others as smaller. He wishes to spread his darkness, an insipid thing that seems to be a tangible presence in any room he is in. When you are near him, colors leech away to a point that the world seems to exist in black and white and grey, no matter how much light or color you attempt to introduce. If given enough power, he would gladly blot out the light of the moon itself, plunging the night into wholly his domain.

There is a young girl whose feet never leave the ground. In her hair there is a constant layer of dirt and dirt. Her eyes are milky-white, but she never trips and never struggles. You ask her if she needs help and she laughs and laughs and laugh. She seems to grow as she does, until you realize that you are sinking. You are up to your ankles-shins-knees-thighs- in the dirt. She says that she cannot see, but in the ground she is no difference for her or anyone else. She says that one cannot stumble or trip or fall if they cannot move because of the ground’s embrace. She says that strength and sight and title means nothing to the earth. She sinks into the ground with a happy sigh right as the ground meets your eyes. Then you can see no more, and as she said, the earth cares not for your struggles.

There is a girl who is an acrobat in the circus. One may assume she would be a stranger, but no. She is quick to introduce herself, to identify herself apart from those she is often lumped with. However, there is something… not right. Her body bends and moves in a way that it Should Not, that the human body Can Not. She twists and flips and bends until her form is completely unidentifiable as one of flesh and blood and bones like yours. Her smile stretches a bit wider than lips should allow. She can make you do things, or make you stop, a few simple pokes and your body will no longer listen to your mind. A few more nudges and your mind will no longer listen to you.

Her friend is a Stranger though. A girl wo dresses plainly, with a face as expressionless as a mannequin and a voice that is as dry and as bland as an uncooked grain of rice. She holds knives sharp enough to flay your skin from your body. Sharp enough to flay your identify from your self. She reacts to little and speaks to less. You may know her name, but she will never allow you to know who she is.

The acrobat and the stranger dance and dangle at the strings of the web. Their friend, a girl of sharp features and a sharper mind. She wields cruelty and knowledge and vulnerability as tools, weapons that allow her to say and do exactly what she needs to make others follow her desires. She will talk to you, and she will lead you. You will follow her without question, without thought, until your feet are stuck fast in spider silk. She can lead anyone into her web with a smile. All but one. She has never dared try to ensnare her Father.

The girl’s father is cruel. He has ambition that supersedes the ability of every man, and does not care for consequences so long as he advances for his personal goals. He will burn through a bush and care not for the wildfire he started behind him so long as he can continue further. If anything, he will delight in having caused it. No one is safe from the destruction. Not his people, whom he destroys without reason and without care. He delights in the anguish they feel and the anguish their demise causes. Not his son, who bears his burn and hunts for an honor never lost. Not the world, which is slowly being burned around him. Not an ember touches his skin. If her were to burn you, he would likely never notice.

Aang – The Vast

Katara – The Lonely

Sokka – The Flesh

Zuko – The Hunt

Iroh – The Eye

Suki/Kyoshi Warriors – The Slaughter

Jet – The Corruption

Yue – The End

Zhao – The Dark

Toph – The Buried

Ty Lee – The Spiral

Mai – The Stranger

Azula – The Web

Ozai – The Desolation

Thanks for reading!!

Yeah, I don’t know either. But if anyone else is a fan of these and wants to make fanart of Martin and Iroh drinking tea together and complaining about loving over-dramatic nerds who do not react normally to acts of love and kindness, you would have my eternal thank.

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headcanonsandmore · 3 years ago

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“Fell In Love With A Girl”, Chapter Three

Summary: As Ginny and Luna touch down in Brazil, they discover the thrills of Rio itself, but also the dangers awaiting them as the investigation deepens.

Tagging: @cheeseanonioncrisps @lytefoot

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Read on FFN. Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we will be touching down in approximately half an hour. The local time is…’

Ginny dimly opened her eyes. Luna was still dozing softly on her shoulder, and the blonde woman’s weight was gentle and warm.

Yawning, Ginny blinked repeatedly, and wiped the sleepy-dust out of her eyes. She took care not to disturb Luna, but her girlfriend began to rouse herself nonetheless.

‘Morning,’ Ginny whispered, smiling. ‘Slept okay, Lu?’

Luna nodded, smiling shyly back.

‘You have a very comfortable shoulder.’

Ginny chuckled, and intertwined their fingers together.

‘Thanks,’ she said, pressing a quick kiss to Luna’s forehead. The blonde woman’s cheeks dimpled and flushed. ‘You ready for Rio, then?’

‘With you with me,’ Luna replied. ‘I could take on the whole world, Ginny.’

Tonks insisted that they all get to the hotel as soon as possible. MI6 agents had already scoured the place for bugs, and had agreed that the place was safe. However, Remus and Tonks did a precautionary sweep around the rooms before they let Ginny and Luna inside.

After unpacking, Luna and Ginny were escorted by Tonks to a room in the hotel cellar that had been made the base for operations.

Two security guards stood inside, and only let them pass after Tonks nodded at them.

The room was dominated by a large round table, upon which was the paraphernalia of paper, telephones, mobile phones, and even a few computer monitors that Ginny presumed was common for such a mission.

‘So… any developments?’ Tonks asked.

A man stepped forward. He was short, with a scar running over one of his eyes. Unlike the other people around him, he was wearing a bullet-proof vest and seemed unconcerned about his appearance as long as it was protected. A strange tattoo was on his right hand, almost like an eye with a long forked tail.

‘Ha!’ His voice was gruff. ‘We haven’t been just sat around waiting for you lot to turn up. The local indigenous groups have been in contact with us; they’ve been reporting strange activities across the entire Amazon delta for several months, but no-one took them seriously until these burglaries started happening. Typical upper-crust attitude.’

‘Thank you, Sam,’ Remus said, with a long-suffering tone. ‘Have we any idea where the activities are originating from?’

The short man nodded, and slammed his finger down on a point on the map spread across a section of table. It was deep in the rainforest, and seemed only accessible by dirt tracks.

‘A testing facility?’

‘Probably,’ Tonks said. ‘It would certainly explain why all those plants and research were being taken.’

‘Speaking of the plants,’ Remus said, turning to Luna. ‘Ms Lovegood, you said that the Amazonian Octarine-Flame was the species of plant you were being asked about, just before the break-in?’

Luna nodded.

‘Yes,’ she said, taking a step towards the table. ‘I thought it was very strange, since the plant isn’t normally kept domestically in the UK.’

‘Now, that’s a name that keeps cropping up,’ the agent called Sam grunted. ‘The locals we’ve been talking to have mentioned it about three dozen times.’

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cigar. He put it in his mouth and was about to light it when Remus gave him a look. From where Ginny was stood, it was clearly a look Remus had gotten used to showing.

‘Sam, please do that outside. You know the fire hazard.’

Sam rolled his eyes, and made for the door.

‘Ginny, Luna; you two should head back upstairs,’ Remus said. ‘We’ll let you know if anything else crops up; you both need some rest before you can think properly.’

‘I’ll take them up,’ Sam muttered. ‘I need to head up that way anyway.’

Ginny shot a look at Tonks, who nodded in approval. Apparently, Sam was trustworthy.

Luna slipped her fingers around Ginny’s, and the two women followed the older policeman out of the room.

‘Er… nice tattoo,’ Ginny offered, pointing at the man’s hand as he struck a match to light his cigar.

Sam smiled. The effect wasn’t much better than when he was frowning, but it was nice to know that even a grizzled man like him could smile.

‘Not a tattoo, but thanks, kid,’ he said, breathing out a large amount of foul-smelling smoke. ‘Got it on the job.’

‘Oh.’

‘These things happen in my line of work,’ he replied, conversationally as they headed up the stairs. ‘Truth be told, I needed to get out of that room.’

‘It is a bit dank, isn’t it.’

‘I’m used to dank, but yeah. Also, it’s almost six and I need to give the family a call. I’ll just see you to your room.’

He did a quick sweep of the room, and then closed the door behind them. Ginny could hear him punching numbers into a phone.

‘Hello Sybil.’ Sam’s voice drifted through the door, sounding far softer than it had done previously. ‘How is everyone back home? Good. Yes, it’s that time… can you put young Sam on?...’

Ginny and Luna had passed out from jetlag more-or-less instantaneously after their heads hit the pillow. Just before she completely lost consciousness, though, Ginny was vaguely aware of… a song about cows? Maybe it was just the jet-lag playing tricks on her. Weird.

When she eventually woke up about… how many hours later? It was the next morning, anyway.

After rousing Luna, the two (plus Tonks) grabbed a quick breakfast in the hotel restaurant, before heading to the cellar planning room.

The planning was less fun than Ginny had been expecting. James Bond certainly didn’t need to deal with stuff this dreary, she was certain. Eventually, after struggling through several hours of it, Ginny had to stifle a yawn.

‘Er, sorry,’ Tonks said, shooting her a sympathetic look. ‘I know this is a bit stuffy.’

‘No, it’s fuu-fuuu-fiiiine,’ Ginny replied, trying to disguise another yawn behind her hand. ‘I’m just…’

Luna interlaced their fingers together.

‘You don’t need me for a while, so how about me and Ginny go back to our room?’

Remus nodded.

‘I’ll escort you both back upstairs,’ Tonks said. ‘Sam, let us know if anything happens.’

Sam nodded, the scar on his hand seeming to glow in the half-light. But Ginny blinked, and it was just a normal scar again. Strange.

Still holding Ginny’s hand, Luna pulled her girlfriend out of the room. Tonks followed, at a distance.

‘You’re too much of a trooper,’ Luna said, smiling. ‘Ginny, just tell me if you’re getting bored.’

‘Didn’t want to be rude,’ Ginny mumbled. ‘It’s important stuff.’

‘So is you not feeling bored out of your mind,’ replied Luna. ‘How about we get some fresh air?’

Luna pulled Ginny out of the front lobby, and onto the streets. Ginny shot a nervous look back at Tonks; surely this was a security issue?

But Tonks instead smiled and gave a small, almost imperceptible, wink. Taking strength from this, Ginny looked back at Luna.

‘Come on, we’re in Rio!’ Luna said, squeezing her girlfriends hand. The blonde woman was giggling, happily, as the two of them set off.

The streets around them were vibrant and full of people. Stalls bustled with all manner of sounds and smells. People were laughing, yelling, and chatting to each-other all around them. There was the sound of traffic nearby, as Luna had led them down what seemed to be a pedestrianised street. Or, at least, a street where there were too many people to let cars and motorbikes through. Looking around, Ginny couldn’t see Tonks anyway, but there were so many nationalities and ethnicities present that no-one took much notice of the two women. The phrase “hiding in plain sight” was apt. She guessed they would be okay like this, at least for a little while.

‘Drink?’ Luna asked, as they approached a cafe. ‘My treat?’

The two of them ordered two coffees and sat down at a table. From what Ginny could gather, the radio was playing a Brazilian band called Fresno.

Luna lounged back in her seat, and Ginny couldn’t help her heart beating faster as she looked at the blonde. Man, her girlfriend was so lovely. It still blew Ginny’s mind that, of all people, Luna had wanted to be with a plain redhead from the country like her.

‘Ginny, you’re making me blush,’ Luna giggled, her cheeks flushing.

‘Can’t help it,’ Ginny said, stroking her hand. ‘You’re really cute. Your girlfriend must be really lucky.’

Luna nodded.

‘As must be yours.’

It was Ginny’s turn to blush.

‘I… I’m really glad you’re here, Ginny,’ Luna said, intertwining their fingers together. ‘This has been really wonderful.’

Ginny felt her heart ache with love for the blonde.

‘You two didn’t half give us the run-around.’

Ginny felt her stomach squirm with guilt. Turning, she saw that Tonks had sat down on a table nearby. Out of the corner of her eye, she could also see Remus stood a few metres further away, somehow managing to blend into the crowd despite himself.

‘Er… sorry, Tonks,’ Ginny said. ‘Honestly, it was my fault, I shouldn’t have gotten so bored earlier…’

‘As long as you’re both safe,’ Tonks replied. ‘Besides, you’re young and in love. I… I guess I can understand that.’

Tonks’s eyes drifted over to wear Remus was stood. His mousy brown hair was reflecting the sunlight.

Sounds about right, Ginny thought.

The three of them left the café. They were about to return to the hotel, when Ginny heard a very familiar noise.

Turning, she saw that a basketball had rolled over the pavement towards her. She stopped it with her foot, and picked it up.

A group of young Brazilian children and teenagers were stood a few feet away, a court behind them.

Basketball!

‘Oh, I know that look.’

Ginny turned. Luna was smiling at her, a very knowing look in her large grey eyes.

‘Sorry, I know we can’t-’

‘Ginny Weasley, since when do you avoid stuff you want to do?’

Ginny stared at her.

‘Come on,’ Luna said, encouragingly. ‘Tonks, she can; right?’

‘I… oh, alright,’ Tonks said, sounding a little exasperated. ‘But try not to stand out, okay?’

Ginny nodded, and walked over to the court, bouncing the ball on the ground as she did.

The kids stared at her, raising their eyebrows. Ginny imagined that seeing some random British tourist using the ball like a pro was a bit perplexing. Especially a tourist who had bright red hair and was barely five and a half feet tall.

Ginny grinned, and performed one of her little tricks, sending the ball up round her shoulders and back down on the ground again, before passing it between her hands.

The kids giggled, now smiling.

Darting forward, Ginny dodged several of them, and headed towards the hoop at one end of the court. Onlookers were starting to grin and clap. The kids were laughing as they tried to keep up with her.

Ginny looked over to wear Luna was stood. She winked at the blonde.

Ginny then jumped, latching onto the hoop and dropping the ball through it in a slam dunk. The crowd cheered.

As Ginny landed, the teenagers surrounded her, cheering and slapping her companionably on the back. She couldn’t understand what most of them were saying, but a couple of older kids exclaimed ‘bravo!’.

After the group had disbursed, Ginny returned to where Luna was stood with Tonks.

‘What was that about “not standing out”?’

‘Er…’

‘Don’t worry, it was good to see you having fun,’ Luna said. ‘Not to mention looking very attractive while you do it.’

Ginny blushed. She smiled around at the kids.

But something caught her eye. Or.. someone.

A figure was stood in a small alleyway between two buildings. They were dressed in black, with large sunglasses obscuring most of their face.

‘Tonks, do you…’

But the figure had disappeared before Ginny could point them out.

They returned to the hotel. Tonks took up her usual spot outside Ginny and Luna’s room, and the blonde florist closed the door, turning to face her girlfriend.

‘Well, that was… fun.’ Ginny said, stood by the bed.

‘Oh, definitely,’ Luna said, crossing the room and putting her arms around Ginny’s waist. ‘Have I mentioned you look great when you’re all sweaty from basketball?’

‘Y-you may have mentioned it once or twice…’ Ginny breathed, as Luna began to place kisses on her neck. ‘But my memory isn’t the best…’

‘Well, maybe I should remind you, in that case…’

Luna placed a kiss against Ginny’s lips, and the two of them fell backwards onto the bed.

Ginny smiled against Luna’s lips. It was a good afternoon.

‘Your hair is so pretty.’

Ginny giggled, as Luna played with a strand of her hair.

‘It’s just red hair, Lu.’

‘Correction; it’s your red hair. Therefore, it’s very pretty.’

‘Oh, stop it,’ Ginny giggled, sitting up and pulling her t-shirt over her head. ‘You’re got a bit of a crush.’

‘You say that like I’m the only one.’

Ginny felt herself blush, and smiled to herself as she did up the belt on her shorts.

‘I’m just gonna talk to Tonks about something; be back in a mo.’

‘Okay, but hurry back,’ Luna said, putting her own t-shirt and shorts on. ‘We need to go downstairs and talk to Remus about any updates they’re received.’

‘Course,’ Ginny replied, pressing a quick kiss to Luna’s forehead. The blonde smiled.

Ginny closed the door behind her, and walked over to Tonks, who was stood a couple of feet away.

‘Are you absolutely sure that we weren’t followed?’ Ginny asked, after Tonks had finished talking into her ear-piece. ‘I could have sworn I saw someone looking at us in the café.’

Tonks frowned.

‘I don’t think so, but it’s always good to be cautious. Get Luna and we’ll head downstairs to-’

CRASH!

Ginny’s blood suddenly turned to ice, as she turned round. The door of the room she had just vacated had shaken on its hinges.

There was a cry of alarm from inside. It sounded like-

‘Luna!’ Ginny screamed, barging through the door. Tonks was a step behind, yelling into her own earpiece.

The room was a mess. The window had been smashed, and the chest of drawers had been knocked over.

Luna was gone.

Ginny stumbled forward, through the debris.

As she reached the bed, she saw that a piece of paper had been left on the pillow. It was written in English.

If you want the Lovegood woman alive, leave South America immediately, and stop the investigation into the rare plant thefts. Stay out of our business. This is your only warning.

There was a symbol scrawled at the bottom, of a skull with a snake intertwined through the eyes.

Ginny fell to her knees, as MI6 agents swarmed into the room. Sam was cursing angrily, while Remus and Tonks were scrambling to figure out what was going on. There was yelling and loud noises around her, but Ginny found that they appeared to be reaching her as if from a great distance. The world around her turned into a blur of muddled voices and sounds.

For the first time in a very long time, tears began to fall from the redheads eyes, and her body was racked with sobs.

She’d broken her promise. She hadn’t been able to protect Luna. And how Luna was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone; hope you enjoyed the chapter!

And eagle-eyed viewers may have been able to spot the cameo from a certain character not normally seen on our roundworld. I couldn't resist putting old Stoneface into this fic. 😁

#'fell in love with a girl'#linny au #alternative universe #linny #linny fanfiction #linny fanfic #florist!luna #florist au #basketball player!ginny #luna/ginny #luna x ginny #ginny/luna #ginny x luna #not sure how but this turned into a sort-of-crossover with discworld #sam vimes cameo

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baby-grayson · 4 years ago

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Sweet Enigma|Part 9

Tag List: @wheezeatmedolans @styles-dolan @prettyboydolan @evergreendolan @baby-turtles @dolanstacoma @kombuchagray @not-gbd @graysavant @someonetogray @dolansficsandpics @batgirl009 @voguekristens @letsgoget-high @crossedbone-kat @thecoletomysprouse @graysonsbailey

tw: pregnancy and mental health discussions

Kate didn’t tell Grayson she was pregnant. At least, not that night. The emotional blows and exhaustive moments had knocked her around more than the tide had when she splashed into the ocean. She left the triage room and Dr.Ocasio as if she was leaving the trenches of a battle: moving, but feeling emptier on the inside (despite sharing her body with the fledgling traces of a new life). She was quiet as she slumped beside Grayson in the car ride back to his place. Tired and angry, he chattered on about paperwork and the nurse’s demeanor as a distraction from the searing hatred burning in his heart that was oxygenated by Sherry’s actions. Not yet ready to face that emotional storm, he settled on ranting about the hospital while Kate leaned her head against the windowsill and gently thumbed her hip, wearing a pensive look framed by dark eye bags and sullen skin.

She followed Grayson into his bedroom when they got home. He waved his hands madly in the air while he continued to rant. She dropped onto his bed, surrendering to the events of the night and instantly wanting to fall asleep and retreat the craziness that had become her life.

Grayson looked when she sighed audibly. He stopped ranting and laced his lips together, going dry at the mouth. “Hey,” he started softly as he went to sit next to her. He draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on the side of her head, “I’m sorry...bunny” he mumbled the word with his lips pressed to her skin.

She tried to feign a smile but instead only lifted her mouth and let it fall again, as if it was weighted down by the tons of stress and trauma she wore from the past few weeks. She leaned into Grayson, letting her hair fall over his shoulder as she nuzzled into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, letting her fall into his form and feel the warmth emanating from his body. She closed her eyes against his skin, letting her body relax as she gently played with her fingers against him.

In that moment, Grayson smelled the salt of the ocean on her hair. He would have liked to say that the scent reminded me of the stresses of the night: her sweet, citrus scent overpowered by the storm they had weathered together. In all honesty, he recoiled slightly at the smell of fish and sweat. He kissed the top of her head and mumbled into her hair, “Go take a shower, I’ll get your pajamas out of your bag.”

Kate nodded softly before dragging herself up to a standing position and moving into his on-suite bathroom. She slid off Grayson’s jacket, folding it neatly and placing it on the bathroom counter. She let her dress drop to the floor, kicking it aside. She turned on Grayson’s shower and sat on the marble bench, letting the water fall on her from above. She leaned back and rested on the bench, trying her best not to think about anything.

She laid naked and wet: her body housing two lives but feeling dead inside.

Grayson unbuttoned his shirt while sulking out of his bedroom and into the living room, where Kate’s backpack was still slung over the couch from yesterday morning. He started to shimmy out of the shirt when he looked up and spotted Ethan at the kitchen island, sitting next to their assistant, Isla. Isla was a full-figured, curvy Latina who spoke in a pointed, but caring manner. Her namesake was forever imprinted as a tattoo sleeve on her right arm and by a signature blue streak of hair in the front of her face.

“Hey,” Grayson’s tone was low while he approached his brother.

“You’re welcome,” Ethan’s tone was flat and his eyes were too tired to fully commit to the joke.

Grayson looked from Ethan to Isla and back to Ethan, “For what?”

“For saving your--your” Ethan held a a hand in the direction of Grayson’s bedroom and waved it, trying to find a word to describe Gray and Kate’s relationship. “-amor” Isla finished his sentence with a delicate smirk.

Ethan snapped his fingers in her direction and nodded, “Thank you.”

Grayson rolled his eyes slightly, “How are you holding up?” He leaned over the counter next to Isla.

“Damp” Ethan replied emphatically.

Grayson let out a laugh that partially relieved him of the invisible weight on his shoulders. His laugh slowly quieted until the room was silent once more: Isla, Ethan, and Grayson sneaking awkward glances at each other. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Grayson said before sighing, “What are we even supposed to do about this?” He was speaking louder than he would have liked, ever the booming presence in a room.

“Well you could--” “You should--” Ethan and Isla spoke over each other.

“Sorry,” Isla whispered.

“No you go,” Ethan started.

Isla shook her head softly and fiddled with her phone in her hands.

“We need to do something about Sherry,” Ethan started, “I’ll call the legal team in the morning.”

Grayson nodded and locked his jaw, “Is that just another add on to what happened to Kate’s apartment?”

Ethan gave a defeated shrug “Dunno- but have they even tied that back to her?”

“Who else would it be?” Grayson didn’t hide his anger.

“You know Gray,” Ethan started, “There are a lot of people who don’t like her- Kate- right now.” He sighed and gave another surrendered shrug, “She didn’t exactly give the world the best impression.”

Grayson huffed, “I know” he stated. He wanted to add: and that’s my fault. He was torn up by the fact that so many people openly hated the woman who single handedly brought happiness back into his life. He was utterly confused, caught in a rabbit hole of doubt and anger: wondering if he would ever wake up from this nightmare and angry at himself for bringing only dark clouds to Kate, when she radiated in his eyes.

By the time Grayson got to bed that night, Kate was already laying there. She was draped in one of his old sweatshirts and resting on top of the covers. Grayson tried his best to slide into the covers and pull her near him while staying silent. Little did he know, she was very much awake. In the dark, she didn’t even try to close her eyes.

The low grumble of Grayson’s snores did not lull her to sleep. On the contrary, they amplified the anxious voices inside of her: crying out about her life, her baby, her family, Grayson, Sherry, boats, nighttime, splashes, treading water, and washing away. She broke out in a cold sweat, the events of the night echoing in her head.

If sleep washed a layer of relief on Grayson’s soul, waking up energized him to seek a vengeance for the day before. He looked at Kate, who’s eyelashes were fluttering against her cheekbones while her mouth sat in a frown. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and used a large arm to grapple her into his chest and start placing a series of soft kisses on her head. He didn’t check to see her frown fade, “G’morning beautiful”

“Morning Gray,” her voice sounded almost hoarse.

“You sound sleepy,” he nuzzled his face against her soft dark hair.

She shrugged, “I’m still tired.” She conveniently left out the part about not sleeping a week.

“Stay in bed while I take a shower,” Grayson smiled against her hair before placing a final kiss on the crown of her head.

It was only once she heard the patter of Grayson’s shower again the marble bathroom floor that she finally closed her eyes and relinquished her body to it’s exhausted state.

She slept until the late afternoon, waking up to a dry mouth and a disoriented mind. Grayson was long gone, running between meetings and phone calls while trying to quell the chaos of the night before.

She lifted herself from bed and trudged into the bathroom where she smoothed out her hair in the mirror. She looked at her own face: wondering if that girl was ready to be a mother. Wondering if that girl could be a mother.

The fear of being recognized in public was not enough to stop her from ordering an Uber to the nearest drug store, where she promptly bought a box of pregnancy tests to verify what the emergency room doctor had told her.

She tiptoed into the house, the plastic of the shopping bag peaking out of her purse while she swiftly moved into Grayson’s bathroom. She was somewhat thankful that Grayson was working late and wrapped up in the chaos of their lives.She turned the lock on the bathroom door, not wanting to risk being caught.

Any good scientist knows the key to valid data is reproducibility: an experiment is no good if it can only be done once. The general rule of thumb, was to preform trials in triplicate to prove validity. Ever the doting, committed scientist, Kate took six pregnancy tests that night.

She stood, staring at the counter and her six positive tests staring up at her. They were daunting. Almost fearsome. Staring at her like a small army ready to attack.

She cupped her face in her hands, deciding that it was real: that it was true.

She heard Grayson enter his bedroom before he knocked on the bathroom door, “You in there?”

“Yeah! Just a minute” She did the smartest thing she could think of and quickly slid all six tests into her purse, not knowing how and when she would dispose of them. She looked in the mirror again, wondering if she looked difference: if housing a child had already started its barrage of physical changes on her body. Could Grayson tell?

She hoped not.

Grayson was emptying his pockets on his nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed when she creeped out of the bathroom, “Hey,” he started, not even looking up at her as he tossed his wallet near his lamp.

Even Kate’s anxious mind could see the physical signs of exhaustion on Grayson’s face: heavy lidded eyes, a low mouth, and distinct creases on his forehead. She sat next to him, “Hey,” she started quietly.

Grayson sighed before he looked at the floor as he spoke, “Talked to Joe and Rob about what happened--”

“Who are Joe and Rob?”

“Oh- uh manager and lawyer-”

“-right.” Kate gave a small nod. She bit the corner of her mouth and decided against asking anymore questions: lest she be faced with all of the details she didn’t know about Grayson’s life. Should she feel guilty for being pregnant by a man and not knowing the name of his manager? Internal, she shuddered and reflected on just how weird a place Hollywood was, to make her ask such a question.

If Grayson could sense her inner struggle, he didn’t show it. Instead, he droned on for a few minutes about assault, battery, nautical laws, and the California jurisdiction. Kate gave small nods and folded her lips whenever he would look up to get her reaction.

“It’s a lot,” Grayson leaned his upper body down against the bed. He wrapped his face in his hands and moved his fingers through his hair, “I feel like I just went to law school in a day- I- this is crazy.”

“It is,” Kate’s voice was small and her posture erect as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

She jumped at the feeling of two large arms folding around her and Grayson leaning his head against her shoulder, “I’m so sorry bunny,” his voice was low. “I-I-” he sighed again and squeezed her tiny frame, “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.” He placed a gentle kiss on her temple. Kate’s posture didn’t falter.

Grayson cleared his throat before saying the next part, slowly and deliberately, “After the break in-- the one that happened before we met-- I was really freaked out. Didn’t sleep for nearly a month. I felt like my even my own mind wasn’t safe anymore. The point is, I went to a therapist a few times. Talked a lot out and I think it really helped me. And this isn’t me sending you to someone else, I’m here for you, wholly, with everything you need. But if you need more” he reached out to hold her hand in his, “I’m by your side always.”

Kate’s lips slipped into a smile for the first time all day, “Thank you Grayson.”

He squeezed her hand once more, “We’ll get through this together mama.”

She stiffened in his arms, “What?!”

“Sorry,” he let out a low chuckle. He rolled his eyes softly at an angle she couldn’t see, “bunny.” he corrected with a loving but mocking tone, “I should know better, I’ll get better I promise.”

Kate gave a small nod before falling back onto the bed.

The second night mimicked the first, with Grayson snoring like a lion on the prowl and Kate rolling around, trying to find a space that felt comfortable enough to lull her to sleep but failing to find it within herself. How could someone sleep when their soul was too busy operating on decisions that would change their lifetime?

She feigned sleep while Grayson slipped out in the morning. She closed her eyes while he bent down to kiss her cheek and whispered, “Sweet Dreams.” Before she head the sound of the door close behind him.

She felt guiltier, that second morning. Once the door creaked shut, she instantly remembered the sullen and long face Grayson gave when he came home the night before. She felt guilty that he was out, fighting her battles and trying to protect her, in a mess of paperwork and legal times, his least favorite things in the world, while she got to stay home and contemplate their love child.

She felt twisted about the fact that this thought made her happy. In a weird way, it proved Grayson’s committment to her, his dedication, and his faith to whatever they had. It calmed some of her nerves that he would be the future father of her child.

Her musings were interrupted by a slurry of emails from her advisor: asking where she was, if she was okay, what was happening. They made her head spin. She felt that the fabric of her mind was being invaded by the complex task of balancing her personal future with the future of her own career and well being. Surely, she hadn’t wanted a child. But now that one was in her sights, and literally in her, maybe it was somehow fated to be this way.

She shut her phone off entirely in an effort to delete the emails.

She threw on one of Grayson’s wakeheart t-shirts and a pair of sweat pants and pattered out into the kitchen for a meal. The hardwood felt cold against her toes. She picked a banana out of the fruit bowl and opened a cabinet, in search of peanut butter when she heard a thumping noise coming from the other side of the house.

She dropped her banana. It bounced against the floor. Her mouth went dry. She picked up a pan from the top of the stove and held it at an angle in front of her and she stalked forward. She slowly pushed open the door to Ethan’s room: unsettled by the fact that it was already ajar. She knitted her brow together, still hearing a beating sound coming from his bathroom. Against her better judgement, she opened the door a crack, motivated by the fear of an intruder, and peered through the space between the door and the door frame.

She jumped back and immediately closed the door. From her crevice, she could see Ethan firmly, strongly, and expertly pounding the plump ass of a girl from inside of her shower, where a strand of blue hair bounced around as she picked her head up to say his name.

Kate blushed and pressed her back against the wall of Ethan’s bedroom. Feeling embarrassed about the whole situation. She quietly tiptoed out of his room and brought the pan back to the kitchen while reflecting on the ordeal. She was paranoid, afraid of monsters in the closet and scenarios she was building in her head: not real fears, fears that her mind was making up to keep her from enjoying the life that was being laid out in front of her.

She turned on Grayson’s own shower and quickly rinsed off, hoping the water and his Wakeheart bodywash would help wash away the negativity from her psyche and the embarrassment from the last 20 minutes.

She wrapped herself in Grayson’s large, cotton bathrobe and sat cross legged on his bed. She pulled her laptop from her backpack and began writing to her advisor, requesting a meeting to explain the timeline for the rest of her doctoral program. She took a breath before pressing send.

Grayson came home that night looking like more of a wreck than the night before. He slumped himself on the bed and rested his head on her lap while Kate gently brushed his hair away from his face. “Long day?”

“Yeah,” Grayson mumbled and nuzzled his face into her midsection.

She sucked in her top lip and sat up straighter, “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, “No,” he sighed and opened his eyes to look at her, “It’ll all change tomorrow anyway.”

Kate didn’t want to ask what that meant.

He held her hand from where he leaned on her, “What about you? What did you do today?”

She swallowed hard, touching her tongue to the outside of her lips and exhaling before speaking. “Actually Grayson--” she took a deep breath mid-sentence, “There is something I wanted to tell you.”

He raised his eyebrows curiously while she wished she wondered how fast she could run across the room and pull out the half a dozen pregnancy tests from the night before. She looked him in the eye, ever the direct speaker, “I’m pregnant.”

When Grayson’s mouth gaped slightly she added, “It’s yours.”

Grayson shot up, lifting his head from her lap and sitting up straight, “You’re pregnant?” At first, his voice held nothing but pure shock but it faded quickly into something happy.

Kate nodded surely, not letting a smile hit her lips. This was a factual conversation.

Grayson had started to flash a grin but quickly lost it when he looked her in the eye to ask, “Do you want to keep it?”

She maintained composure, “I do.”

Grayson’s entire face lit up. In a swift move, he jumped from the bed and began pacing around the room in front of Kate, waving his arms joyously in the air and starting sentences without endings about family, his mother, Kate, this year, the baby, him being a father. Kate could barely keep up with him, so she giggled and smiled at him: appreciating every ounce of whimsical, loving energy that was Grayson Dolan.

He made a sharp turn on his heel, stopping his arms from waving, “Do you want to--” he licked his lips as his face quickly transformed from happiness to anxiety, “Do you want me to-to-to marrryyeee you?” Kate didn’t know what word got so many extra letters.

She shook her head, “I uh- I didn’t think about that but I don’t think it’s” she moved her eyes from side to side, “necessary?”

Grayson nodded, “Right.” He bit his bottom lip and looked at her with large, kind brown eyes. He stared straight into her big brown eyes and saw the same gold flecks he noticed that day on the beach. She was his girl, his soul knew it. “I could still, ask you to marry me?” If she was the say yes, he would have dropped to his knee in that moment and started an impromptu speech about everything she meant to him. If she were to say yes, he would have changed everything in his life to make her as comfortable as possible. She was everything he wanted in his life, and now she was caring for a child that was nothing but the proof that they were destined to be together.

But at the offer of a proposal, Kate shot up from the bed and took Grayson’s hands into hers. She took a deep breath, “No Grayson. I don’t want that.” She wanted to say that they weren’t even actually dating, but that would break Grayson’s heart at the moment it was most full: so she didn’t. Instead she opted for pulling body close to his, so he could get drunk on her sweet citrus scent and saying, “I don’t need a boyfriend, or a fiance, or a husband.” His eyes held onto something sad before she added, “What I need, is a partner,” she squeezed his hands, “I need you to be my partner Grayson.”

He squeezed her hands before giving her a slow, gentle kiss and letting his lips rest on hers warmly before pulling back, “You’ve got me bunny.” He placed another kiss on her forehead.

#grayson #grayson dolan #sweet enigma #kate and gray #kind stranger #ethan #ethan dolan #fanfic #story #smut #fluff #angst #pregnancy #romance #youtuber #influencer

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justalittletomato · 4 years ago

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Maul X Reader Drabble Part 2

A link to Part 1:

https://justalittlecloud.tumblr.com/post/628405603084206080/maul-x-reader-drabble

A continuation from the previous installment were sentiments were a clear miss. Here Savage attempts to help, if only Reader would give him a heads up.

As usual Reader can be seen as Y/N

Warnings: Maybe angst?

I put the rest under keep reading as to not clutter the dash!

She was distancing herself, instead of her usual place beside him Maul almost stood up to redirect her as she took a seat next to his brother, Savage. The other sith was also perplexed but did not bring further attention to the matter, mostly as he could already tell everyone present was painfully aware of the situation.

Y/N did not give it any of her attention; she only gave Savage a small smile and greeting before turning back to her work.

Similar instances would occur throughout the morning, Maul narrowed his eyes as Y/N again went to savage to discuss the new settlement, and instead sending him messages through her data pad rather than speaking directly.

His brother only tried to cast him a apologetic glance as Y/N followed him out to another co-occurring meeting, she still of course gave Maul his notes that she had written the night prior, “I just want to make sure this one goes well, I know Savage can hold his own and easily snap a few necks but it wouldn’t hurt for me to make sure no one slides anything in,” he watched her walk away beside his brother, she even dressed differently today.

Her usual black silk gowns were often a compliment of his own tunics, like a matched set of black and red.

Today she favored a slate grey leaning towards a gray-blue similar to Savages armor, the alteration bothered him as they walked off now Y/N matched Savage instead and followed him along leaving Maul to dwell on his irritation and sadly for the councils without Y/N to calm him.

The other meeting had ended earlier than expected, Y/N stirred her tea for once not enjoying the routine task. Likely as to avoid the person she shared the ritual task with as much as she could given her role as advisor. Savage had sat next to her, umber eyes looked over the young woman who had been stirring her tea cup for the past 5 minutes, lost in thought.

“Y/n, how long do you plan to avoid my brother?” It was an honest question he could still feel his brother glaring at them as Y/N walked behind him.

“Is it that obvious?” She put down her spoon for once not interested in drinking her tea, of right, it wasn’t even the kind she liked too much, this one was Maul's favorite.

Savage would have laughed if it not been for the continued dazed look on Y/N, as if she was barely present, “Glaringly so, we left him in a mood this morning.”

Savage looked around the room making sure no one else was there, his brow furrowed, “Y/N it may be best to let this feeling go. You’ll only torture yourself.”

Y/n tugged at her sleeve, maybe the color didn’t suit her at all, she kept pulling at the material trying to muffle what Savage was trying to explain, a truth she had already realized the other day.

Savage continued, “ you must understand, my brother's upbringing was void of affection, any kinship with others, any positive link that likely did not end with a command to destroy. It was only recently that he and I referred to another as brothers, however.” The yellow Zabrak put a hand on hers, “ With you it’s different, he actually lets you near, he likes your company and often seeks you out but he may not be able to recognize that he feels something for you.”

The sincerity of his voice made it all the worse , Y/N bowed her head letting her hair fall around her, “I know, why do you think I’ve been avoiding him?”

The silence that fell between the two was tangible, Y/N felt the need to just curl up and hide. “ I tried to have him tell me what capacity he wanted me for, “

“What was his response?” Savage tried. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze,

“ Well I was not outright on what I am feeling,” She recalled the touches and proximity she had with Maul, a hand on his shoulder and the habit of sitting close together as they worked. Each brush of their hands sending more and more warmth as they sat and worked together. “,But I felt my implications and mannerisms were clear,”

How many hours had they spent working together?

More than once has she fallen asleep at the desk with him and had woken up back in her own room.

Y/N re-evaluated the moments between them, maybe she had looked far too into the situation,

“Again as I have said my brother likely has no reference that you are trying to convey anything of a romantic nature, no matter how glaringly obvious.”

She looked up at him frowning, but Savage continued, he needed her to understand,

“I know he likes to be around you, he seems calmer with you, but he may not be able to recognize it not without a real push.You will have to face him soon, this arrangement will only make it worse.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, it was bitter and sad, “ Of course, I’m the official advisor now.” She smiled up at Savage with dulled eyes not a touch of her usual spark, “I’ve been reaching for this for years and I finally have it. I suppose I should be happy right?”

The door to the room had opened, the familiar grumbling from Maul came through, but not slow enough as he saw his brother still holding Y/N hands. Savage slowly put down Y/N’s hands, “ Just giving her my congrats as your new advisor.”

Maul felt uneasy at the way the two were reacting, wait...why was he so bothered by this? It was good that the two were getting along. However that proximity was something he shared with Y/N, something meant between them and not the three.

Y/n was the first to get up ready to just leave the matter again,

“Well our meeting ended early, there’s still some tea left. I’ll be helping Savage again tomorrow.” She gathered her items taking her data pad with her, “I’ve already sent you my notes for your meetings tomorrow as well so you should be fine without me there.” she didn't meet his eyes, she just looked above him at the windows, the patterned glass was her focal point, she just had to keep it up.

Savage internally groaned, he could already see his brother getting angered by this, the crimson Zabrak had deepened his usual frown and narrowed his eyes,” You have your duties, Y/N.”

He wanted Y/N at his side, he wanted her to say her biting remarks at the council as she knew she would win. He missed her touch to his shoulder when she had found yet another scheme underway.

“I am well aware, but Lord Maul if you recall I am an advisor to you both, and if that is the case I should also help Lord Savage as well. It’s only fair.” She was technically right, but he couldn't give her that.

She walked past him, feeling his golden eyes looking back at her, “ I’m turning in early today, I’m afraid I won't be joining you tonight.” There would be no accidental touch, or falling asleep near the other just solitude once more.

She didn’t stay to hear him call her back, she just looked at the window and left into the halls.

The stained windows showed her Sundari, maybe she should linger back to the library.

She missed the books and silence, maybe the pages would fill her thoughts with something new, rather than linger on the crimson Zabrak that haunted her.

Maybe she should listen to Savage and let go of this feeling.

The library was always empty it’s only occupant was Y/N,she let her fingers run over the histories and tales of old. These were her constant companions, the ones who stayed when everyone had gotten what they needed from her. Maybe she should be blunt with Maul about what she felt, maybe this time someone would stay or maybe she would just still be here in the library chiding herself for being in love with such an impossible person.

She takes a book from the shelf uncaring of its contents and opened it up, “it is without saying that Mandalore will fight until the end....” ah one of the classic histories of the civil wars from 20 years ago, she curled up in her old nook the pillows soft as she laid back and drowned her thoughts with the old tales, no more golden eyes, or intricate tattoos, or glancing at a crown of horns.

“You seem troubled brother.” Savage watched as his brother had ripped apart one of the targets in the training room. Its contents strewn over the floor, the polymer fiber now littering the mats as Maul took out his frustrations.

“She’s hiding something. She has to be.” Maul hissed, “What did she tell you?” his tone was accusatory and slightly panicked.

Savage thought of what he was going to say, “She isn’t trying anything against you, it is complicated to say the least but it isn’t really my place to tell you.”

It was all he could come up with, and it didn’t help the situation. Maul was already going at another target with a wooden staff, the impact of a strike ripping through the cover.

“So you know.” Maul began, “Withholding information from me isn’t wise.” His voice has lowered, and the staff now pointed at Savage, “Best to tell me.”

What did savage know? What was it that Y/N would divulge to his brother rather than him?

Savage just stared at his brother, “Answer me this first, what did you feel when Y/N went with me this morning?”

Maul glared at his brother, “What does that have to do with the information I asked for? Did I not make it clear?”

Savage persisted, “ You didn’t like it, did you?”

“Y/N and I have worked well together of course I’d want her there.”

“ But she wore my colors today.” Savage added, Maul gripped tighter onto the staff

“ They don’t suit her at all, they dull her out. You’ve seen her in black and red,” He let himself linger at that thought, the silky material would sometimes graze against his side, the dresses suited her, she looked every bit regal and at his side, “She was ethereal.”

Savage mentally checked off the question and again commented, “So I’ve heard, even some of the council have mentioned similar comments.”

Maul clenched his jaw at that, “Which ones?”

“Y/N has already turned each one down, that also seemed to bother you. Y/n is young,she’s brilliant, it might not be too long before she does end up with someone.”

Splintered wood snapped onto the mat, “ Enough with this! ”, Maul snarled, “ What did she tell you?”

“Why do you want to know? What is it that brings you to grow so angry about the thought of Y/N.” Savage was truly playing with fire at his point, his brother’s eyes almost glowed.

Maul scoffed,“I need her there, with her with us we can quickly work this plan through.” Y/N taking notes late into the night, her face lit up by the candles she brought in refusing to use the lights as they would interfere with her ability to sleep.

“And then move on, Y/N will be set for life.”

No more of Y/N coming in late at night with a new idea or some of the tea he enjoyed. No more of the almost brush of lips to his cheek when she reminded him to sign the data pad on his desk.

“Why would she go?” Y/N turning away from him, her eyes no longer looking at him, but to some figure who took her hand.

The notion began to eat away at him, it was already happening.

Savage shook his head, “ What reason would she have to remain?”

Maul was at his wits end, “ I want her at my side! I want her there!” He wouldnt have that, Y/N couldn't just leave him..them..what was that thought just now?

Savage merely nodded,” It’s a start. If you must know, it appears that Y/N has tried to demonstrate her affections but the sentiment was not understood.”

“To who?!” the crimson Zabrak demanded already tugging on his tunic he had tossed aside earlier and moving towards the doors,

The yellow Zabrak internally sighed , “Go ask her, she’s probably at the library. “

This was up to the two now, he had helped to hopefully establish that his brother wanted Y/N with him and that she had tried to show him her own affections.

He just hoped the two could explain what they felt and meant no more of this implication and confused reactions.

* Preview for next time

Maul had never been too deep into the library, but it was the place Y/N would retreat to. Deep into the shelves of real paper and ink, Y/N had curled up in her nook.

Her hair cascading across the pillows she had there and fast asleep. She would look almost serene if it had not been for the tear streaks down her cheeks.

“It seems like her sentiment was not understood.”

The lingering touches and the way she listened to him and argued with him. His knee jerk reaction at the thought of her leaving his side, and the loss he felt when she left this morning.

“Y/N, what have you brought upon yourself?”

#darth maul x reader #maul x reader #maul x you #Again we have the two unable to regoznie how to tell the other anything #Savage tries to help #good on Savage #Maul that feeling is affection #a bit angry but affection and being starved for attention #WHAT do you mean she wont stay after #maul #darth maul #star wars #savage opress #cloudsdrabbles

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years ago

Note

Could you please write “‘i didn’t want to tell my friend who my real date last night was so i just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now they’re storming over to interrogate you and you’re playing along??? okay’ au”. Jurdan?

Sorry for the late, hope you'll like it!

chapter - two | beautiful disaster

Full Masterlist

Beautiful Disaster Masterlist

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I've been in the club for a half hour now and I already wish I wasn't here.

Vivienne ditched me in favour of dancing two minutes after we arrived; funny how she is the one who insisted we need more 'sister time.'

"I'm bored," I complain when she gets off the dance floor. "I wish you'd let me leave—it's not like I'm having fun."

Taryn is beside her, looking a little too drunk herself. She clings to Vivienne like a timid child to her mother, eyes wide as saucers and an awestruck expression on her face—I don't know what she's pleased about. She stumbles towards the bar, ordering more drinks. Vivienne turns to me, expression purposeful and determined.

She says, "We barely see you! You're always out—even dad doesn't know where you are." Her words sound like a lament, though I'm almost sure she doesn't notice my absence often and if she does, it doesn't bothers her enough to enquire after me when we're both sober, apparently.

"I know where she is all the time," Taryn tells the two of them, a giggle escaping her lips. "I know your secret, Jude."

I stiffen, but manage to keep my face nonchalant and voice amused, unaffected. "You do now, do you?" It's almost to easy to lie now, to speak half truths, to be deceitful and clever and guarded all the time. It should bother me but it doesn't. I'm too scared she knows I'm working for Dain, too scared Madoc could find out and gods know what he'll do when he does.

Taryn nods. "I saw you sneaking out of the house at nights!" Then, she giggles, "I know you have a secret lover."

I relax, tension released from my muscles when the words settle in. She thinks I have a secret lover, which isn't that far off but my real secret is safe. A blush creeps onto my cheeks as I think of Dain, my apparent secret lover and boss. I can never tell when we went from thinking of each other as best friends to lovers but he's one of the very few people I almost trust.

"You have to tell us who it is, Jude," Vivi says, clapping in excitement. She's ridiculous. "Oriana will be so happy!"

I stare in horror. I don't like where this is going. I can't tell them who I'm sneaking off with but I can't deny their suspicions lest they follow me out on my nightly escapades someday.

The two of them cheer loudly, drawing some attention and shouting 'Tell us!' in chorus when I see him.

"Cardan," his name escapes my lips in surprise, quieting the loud pair. Then I realise what it sounded like, and I rush to correct them but it's too late. Neither of them wants to hear much now.

"Ohmygod, Cardan Greenbriar?!"

"I suppose they have the whole enemies to lovers thing going from them," Vivi tells my twin sister.

"He's so cute."

"I don't even—" Jude is cut off by Vivienne's answering squeal.

"Think of all the double dates—" everyone is looking over at us, "and Madoc will be furious, that's a plus."

Taryn hums her agreement. "That's why Jude can't tell Madoc, isn't it? But Jude, we'd never tell him—" and her words are cut off with a sharp gasp when their eyes land on the entrance, and they notice him leaning against the wall.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, but then they sweep around the whole room and land on me. Faintly, I can hear my sister's teasing comments but it sounds so far away, and he seems like he is too close for comfort. I wonder how he can do that—make me feel like the world is collapsing around me with all but one look; how he can intimidate me without ever coming close.

"Aw, they're making fuck me eyes at each other," one of my sisters coo.

Entirely too fast, he's gone from my sight and I come back to reality. I drown out all comments about him, giving vague, evasive answers to each question. It feels like he's still looking at me with that impenetrable gaze, though he's nowhere to be seen.

I fetch us some drinks, and soon find other topics to converse about. I'm hoping they've forgotten our conversation, when I stumble upon a sight that makes my heart stop dead inside my chest. He's standing there with a drink in his hand, and from the opposite side of the dance floor, my sisters make their way towards him.

I run towards him, pushing through the crowd. I stumble, almost falling into him and he rolls his eyes. "Falling again, Jude? This is the second—"

I hold up a hand. "Shh, you have to leave—my sisters think we're—" but before I can make my request of Cardan Greenbriar, my sisters have arrive. I can't let them know I lied—they'd wonder what I'm hiding from them and it won't end well. I have too many secrets to protect.

"Cardan Greenbriar," Taryn breathes out. She sounds a little starstruck.

Cardan narrows his eyes at the newcomers, an amused expression on his face. In front of his graceful manner and controlled movements, everyone else looks like a fish flailing in the air. He doesn't have that cruel gleam on his face, but I stay on my guard. Whatever my grievances with my sisters, I can't help being protective of them.

He says, "You didn't tell me you had such a pretty sister, Jude."

Taryn flushes at the compliment, and I wonder what he's playing at—or if, perhaps, this is another attempt to rile me. "We're twins," I mutter under my breath, though it comes out louder than intended and he hears me.

"Of course you'd find Taryn pretty—she looks like Jude, after all." Vivienne smirks, "You don't need to pretend. Jude told us everything."

"She did?" He can't hide the confusion from his face, but it's gone in a minute.

"Yes! I'm glad you're dating Jude. Just know if you hurt her, well, she'll hurt you back worse so..." she trails off with a sweet smile. I didn't know when my eldest sister got so scary, but she looks positively terrifying now.

"Dating? Jude?" Cardan quirks an eyebrow at me. "Yes, I'm, uh, doing that. Am I not, sweet Jude? I'd never hurt her, not unless she asks me to," he grins at his innuendo, sending my sisters cackling too. I can't bring myself to share their amusement, too busy wondering what he's playing at.

"Aw, he's blushing!" Taryn coos at him, words near slurred. "When did this happen? Why didn't we know? Ooh, Jude, how long have you been fucking? Wait, have you even had sex—" Vivienne interrupts my twin's barrage of questions with an apologetic smile and a quick 'you both should make a date night out of this' leaving me alone with my worst nemesis.

The moment my sisters are out of sight, he cocks his head to the side. "Jude. Am I supposed to know what that was about or will you explain?" There's no sneer in his voice, just curiosity with a touch of amusement.

"A misunderstanding," I clear my throat. "They wanted to know, uhh, who I'm dating, and I looked here and they assumed it was you."

His lips twitch upwards, as if he's entertained by my reply. I bristle at the mocking look, but I know my anger will only provide him satisfaction. His lips are curled in a small smirk, and he has never looked more beautiful. There's an air of confidence around him, a careless, unassuming grace in his movements that makes him look so intimidating and yet, so appealing all the same. The top two buttons on his black shirt have been left open, and reveal more of the serpent tattoo around his collarbone. I have the strangest itch to trace it with my fingers but I dismiss it as curiosity.

He turns on his heel without another word, then looks back. He frowns, "Are you not following me?"

"Should I be?" I don't recall him asking me to go somewhere with him.

Cardan makes an 'isn't that obvious' face, and I give him an impatient look in return. He tells me, "I was about to get another drink, but apparently, we have to get drinks, have a date and whatnot now. I do loathe the idea of making someone unhappy."

"And if this makes me unhappy?" I ask, even as I walk beside him to the bar.

Almost absentmindedly, as if I'm daft and it's the simplest answer in the world, he gives me a blank look. "You're Jude. No one can make you unhappy." He orders drinks for the two of us, and it occurs to me that I'm talking to him, and it's not a part of my plan.

But maybe this coincidence might help me earn his trust. He's never so affable as he is when he's drunk.

We talk, if you could call it that. Mostly, it's just us remaining in a silence that feels too loud, each of us too aware of the other's presence and Cardan's occassional remarks laced with dry humor. And if upon hearing one of those sharp remarks, I let a loud laugh escape my mouth, or if I look rather flushed, I blame it on the alcohol I consume. It isn't until Vivienne informs me Madoc is home and he's asking for me that I remember all the ways this mission can go wrong if I'm not careful about it.

We're in the cab, and I'm almost dazed as I recall every remark Cardan made. "He's quite the catch," Vivienne must have seen the confusion on my face because she adds: "Cardan, I mean. I quite like him."

I make a face at her. "He's a disaster."

"A beautiful disaster," she corrects me with a suggestive look. I don't bother arguing with her this time.

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tags:

@courtofjurdan // @thesirenwashere // @nightbringer // @queenofgreenbriar // @jurdanhell // @sweetlyvillainous //@clockworkgraystairs // @blog-lady-vi // @the-dark-swan //@storiesandschemes // @fangirltrash74 // @augustintodarkness // @queen-of-glass // @jurdan7 // @aesthetics-11 // @mijaldraws // @hades-flame // @sensitivehighlord // @annejulianneh111 // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @doingmyrainbow // @curlyredqueen06 // @chaotic-fae-queen // @thewickedkings // @thesurielships //@df3ndyr // @clouds-and-peonies // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @thefolkofthefic // @st00pid231 // @iminsanenotobsessed // @abookishfreak // @maddymelv // @iammissstark

#the cruel prince #the folk of the air #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jurdan #mafia au #jurdan fanfic #jurdan mafia au #beautiful disaster #aelin-queen-of-terrasen #thr folk of the air #tfota fanfic #tfota fanfiction #holly black #the wicked king #queen of nothing #the queen of nothing

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operationcavill · 4 years ago

Text

Untangled - Part 2

“Would ya look who’s here,” Y/N’s heart drops and she can’t bring herself to turn around. There’s no way he’s here for a second time. “He’s wearing a white henley,” her sister leaves with hopes that her little sister gets some juicy gossip and most importantly, breaks out of her shell. A white henley was her weakness on any man but Henry, she was done for.

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

B/N - Brothers Name

It’s been exactly one week since Henry met that funny girl at the bar. Y/N. Even her name sounded sweet. He couldn’t help but think about her legs, and how nice her ass looked, but he also couldn’t knock the thought of how shy she was and how cute her blushing mannerisms were; her fingers fiddling with the neck of the beer bottle or thumbing at the necklace she wore. Y/N just radiated something, and it was too enticing to him. Those fingers and the way her nails would feel digging into his scalp when he,”Hey, Henry,” a PA snaps him out of his daydream, “it looks like rain isn’t letting up so they’re halting until it passes. See ya tomorrow.” He nods and sends a text to his brother who is currently keeping Kal company while he’s working overseas.

H: Did Kal get a walk in today?

B/N: Took him and the kids out twice. Checking in early today. Got plans this evening?

H: I haven’t decided but probably just going out to dinner with some work mates again.

B/N: Liar.

H: What?

B/N: You’re gonna go back to that bar.

H: Hey, it was a nice bar.

B/N: It was a nice girl.

H: I can’t forget a cute face.

B/N: Alright lol be careful out there

Henry slides his phone in his pocket and heads to his car. The grey clouds bring him back to that evening on the patio once again. He was so hung up, just after a couple of hours. What’s gotten into him? His drive back to the hotel was quiet. He was trying his best to concentrate on the car, just the care and nothing else. But maybe she’d let his hand rest on her thigh while he drives. Would she hold his hand on the way back his room?

He exchanges nods with the hotel staff he passes on the way to the elevator, being him usual polite self even when exhausted.

——————————

Henry watches a small group enter the bar and to his enjoyment, she walks in with them. He excuses himself to the restroom, but his fellow crew mates know better, he’s going after her. He rolls his eyes at their snickers but lets out his own chuckle.

“Hey there,” He looked even better than before. The Shirt.

“Hello.” She hopes he can’t hear her heart pound in her chest, “Becoming a regular, are we?”

“What can I say? I like a good cocktail,”

“Benny does know how to make on hell of a drink.” She winks at the bartender and they share a laugh.

The bartender blows her a kiss, “Anything for you, Tequila Princess,”

He raises his eyebrow and smirks, “Tequila Princess? What is it about you and tequila?” He becomes confused as Benny scoots two shot glasses in her direction.

Y/N sighs as she turns toward Henry, “Thanks, Benny,”

He glances at the small glasses, “I’m actually not a tequila guy.”

She laughs, “These are both mine.”

“Oh,” He’s adorably wide-eyed, “is this that trick your sister mentioned?”

“Yes,” Y/N holds the two glasses in front of her face, “cheers, Henry.” After placing both shot glasses in her mouth, she rest her hands on her thighs, throws her head back and gargles the liquid before swallowing. She took the drink with absolutely no grimace or chaser, no salt or limes. Her face is completely still as if it were water. “and that is the trick. It’s not exactly mind-blowing and it’s a gross sound.”

“What the hell,” He backtracks in case he offended her “I mean, how are you not positively sick right now?”

“I can’t taste it.” He throws her a look, “It doesn’t burn or anything. So, in school I told a few friends that I couldn’t taste tequila. They dared me to gargle it to prove it, and being young and stupid, I did. That’s where the Tequila Princess came from.”

“Am I entitled to use that nickname?” He’s so handsome.

“Only if you want me to walk away right this second.”

He surrenders his hands in the air, “I shall never call you Tequila Princess ever again.”

“Good,” He offers her a beer but asks for a water instead, “thank you.” Henry looks visibly tense as the bar gets a bit more crowded. She can sense it in him, he’s getting a nervous. She assumed he would be used to it.

“Hey, look, our bench is free.” He liked that, that they had a bench. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, tired, but good.” He looks into her eyes and notices that they’re a darker shade than before, “How was your week?”

She smiles sweetly, “It was great, actually. Sorry to hear that you’re tired.”

Y/N is turning Henry into a puddle of mush with her kindness, “S’alright. We actually cut it short today cause of the rain.”

Pointing at her sister and brother-in-law, “Those two almost didn’t want to come this weekend because S/N hates driving in the rain.” He admires how close she must be with S/N, and wonders if they fought like monsters as he did with his brothers when he was young, do sisters do that?

“Do they visit every weekend?”

“No, you just happened to be here when they do visit,” Something splashes and she hears a playful, ‘oops’. She looks up to find a very beautiful woman holding an empty glass and a grin you could compare to the Cheshire cat.

“I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t ruin your, um, shoes.” She looks at Y/N’s boot with what seems to be distaste.

“It’s ok, we all get a little clumsy.” Y/N is not the type to be confrontational, especially when she knows people are watching, “I’ll just go get some napkins.”

Henry interjects, “Please, let me.” He gets up so quickly that the woman in the conversation can get a word in.

Her eyes follow his behind before turning back, “Listen, I don’t want to come across as a bitch, but there’s so many guys here at this bar that are on your level.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows, “My level?”

She clears her throat, “Yeah, like you’re super adorable but come on.” She’s younger than Y/N. She has those extra long legs and perfect eyelashes, her boobs still up to her neck.

The frustration in her chest grows as she tries not to put little miss spider legs in her place, “All I had to do was smile to get his attention. You had to interrupt us and spill your drink on my shoes.” S/N notices the glare in her sisters face, this doesn’t seem friendly at all.

She makes her way over, trying not let Y/N notice. She hears her hold her own, which isn’t surprising but she knows her anxiety can get the best of her. She almost wants to laugh at how bold this girl is. S/N knows she’s very nosy but this is her little sister, is she supposed to ignore such a situation? She peeks and sees Henry eyeing the two as well. He’s not that far away, he has to be hearing this.

Spider legs rolls her eyes, “He’s just really-“

Henry arrives with the napkins, bending down to wipe off her boot, “Really into the conversation we were having, excuse me.” He stands, turning his back to the woman before sitting down. He’s not sure who is more shocked, this rude woman or S/N as she pretends not to eavesdrop behind a topiary. “You are adorable, by the way,” He wipes her knee, even though there isn’t a trace of liquid on it, “Beautiful, really.” The secondhand embarrassment is almost too much for Y/N to bear, why is spider legs still stand here? I feels like an hour before she finally marches off.

“That was sweet of you,” Her voice is smaller than he expected but he can see the rose tinge in her face, “thanks.”

He gives her a full smile this time, “I have a feeling things might have gotten a bit out of hand if I didn’t step in.”

She scrunches her nose, “I’m not exactly argumentative, but —”

“Not you, Darling,” Darling, “your sister his trying to hide, just there.”

Y/N watches her sister rush off from behind the plant and act like she didn’t hear a word, “Jesus, S/N.”

He was completely sure of it now. Henry was more than intrigued, he wanted every part of her, “You’re very feisty.”

“Feisty?” She’s never heard that one before.

Henry does his best to put on a feminine impersonation, “All I had to do what smile to get his attention,”

“Shut up,” She flirtatiously swats at his hand, “being shy or, like, reserved, doesn’t make you a doormat.”

Henry could grab her and kiss her right here on this bench, their bench. “Come on. Let’s get back to it,” He nudges her leg with his elbow, “what do you do? Tell me some fun facts.”

"Fun facts?” She clasps her hands, “Ok. Um, well, I’m a painter, sometimes photographer. I live in a tiny apartment with a loud neighbor. I like crime books, like to read when I can. This is not my natural hair color, and I actually don’t care for alcohol that much. People are usually surprised by my tattoos. I also have an obsession with travel sized toiletries. Hows that?”

He’s always gone for the creative type, he should’ve guessed it, “A painter with tattoos who likes to read, and likes tiny shampoo. Got it.”

“Your turn,” She takes a sip of her water, “oh, you can’t say acting because that’s too obvious.”

“Hmm, Ok, I like coffee over tea. I’m really into horror movies and gaming. I enjoy cooking but hardly get the chance. I hate running. I think people who sleep in socks are complete psychopaths. I also like to read. Like visiting home. God, I sound boring,” he laughs, “what else? Ah, I really like mornings. I like working out first time in the morning.”

“You’re not boring at all,” She smiles, “I can’t say that I like working out. I like to cycle, but that’s about it.”

He blurts out, “That explains it.” Oh no. Did he just accidentally talk about her ass?

“What?” To his horror, he has no way to recover from his remark.

He tries to change the topic, “Oh, nothing. You need another water?”

Y/N narrows her eyes, “No, explains what?”

As her sister walks by and hands Y/N a plastic cup full of lemons. She matter of factly states, “He’s talking about your ass, idiot.”

“Ohh,” This time they both blush. Henry hasn’t had cheeks this rosy since he was a boy.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” He awkwardly bites his lip and tries not to die of embarrassment, “Well, um, anyway, I’m, uh,” Y/N looks up at the sky and jumps as she gets a chill. He watches her tear into a lemon wedge, “Are you just eating lemons?”

“I like sour things,” Her eyes squint, as if she’s expecting something.

He tries to see what she’s seeing, “What are we looking at?”

“It feels like it’s gonna rain again.”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I think we’re ok,” He watches her eat another wedge, “do you two have some sort of lemon ESP?”

“Of course, we’re sisters. I didn’t check the weather but it definitely seems like it’s gonna rain storm.” She scrunches her nose again, he takes note that it must be a habit of hers.

“I hope not, I like sitting out her with you.” Henry listens to her go one about how her and her sister have always just ‘got’ each other, more so than others with their own siblings. She has a best friend, B/F/N, that she has a very similar relationship with. They share stories of their teen years and the dreaded mishaps that are the early twenties. Henry, with beer in his mustache, says, “I should’ve grabbed more napkins,” he wipes his mouth, letting Y/N see the time on his watch. She grabs his wrist to get a better look, but doesn’t state the time. He looks, “Oh, it’s almost 3 hours since I got here,” He checks his phone to see that his fellow co-workers let him know they were headed back to the hotel. It’s just him now.

She opens her mouth to speak but a large rain drop hits her forehead, making her go a little cross eyed, “Well, would ya look at that?”

“I’m sure it’s just a little bit of sprinkling.” Theres a sudden crack of thunder and the sky lights up, welcoming an instant downpour.

He makes sure Y/N gets back inside first, wishing he had a jacket to cover her with, “I told you it was gonna rain.” He absentmindedly tries to cover her head with his left arm, but he was too late. Her hair has fallen victim to the chilly October rain, as has Henry’s clothing.

She can’t help but look at his body, just like the rest of the women in the bar, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just a little cold,” She wants to tell him that his shirt is sticking to him, making him look like a greek god. That god damned henley.

Henry awkwardly shifts, pulling his shirt from his skin, “It is kind of cold, isn’t it?”

S/N arrives and he knows this is his last chance with Y/N, “We’re gonna go back to the hotel before it gets bad out here. Johnny said he’d stay, if you want to stay.” S/N Looks at Henry and back her Y/N, wanting her to take a chance.

“No, I’ll come,” She looks at him, hoping to God her mascara didn’t run too much, “Well, um, I’m going to go before it get worse but it was wonderful seeing you,” She touches his arm only for a few seconds, “maybe I’ll run into you again.”

“Hopefully,” He watches her leave, thanking whoever invented the stationary bike, but already missing the conversation. Her icy fingers gave him goosebumps of his own, but he welcomed it. They were soft and he liked her sparkly nail polish. It reminded him of a hot wheels truck that his nephew gave him. He loved how cozy she looked and, shit, Henry didn’t give her his number. He forgot twice. He thinks to himself, “What the fuck is the matter with me?”

[Note: Please excuse any writing mistakes. Thanks for reading 💕 ]

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