#thank you for such kind and engaging words under my previous parts. i apologize for not replying to them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wroteasongabouther · 4 years ago

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 2

a/n: thank you all so so sooooo much for the love on the first part of cstsyl ❤️ i hope you guys like part 2 just as much, and please reblog/leave me any feedback if you can as if really just makes me smile and helps with the engagement and blah blah blah u know the drill lol

and thank you to the lovely jill @havethetimeofyourstyles, jess @arrogantstyles and wendy @bookwormandtea for beta reading for me!

word count: 15k

warnings: mentions of death, couples fighting, awkward silence in elevators, and addicting candy cane pretzels.

fic page // let’s chat! // cstsyl playlist

They were fighting again. Y/N’s voice was booming through the walls, her boyfriend’s echoing after hers. Harry tries his best to focus on anything but their voices, but he can’t. It doesn’t make him feel all that great listening to the girl he had only seen smile and had been making laugh over the past two weeks, now yelling on the other side of the wall between them.

Harry plucks a soft melody on his guitar as he lounges on his couch. His hands absentmindedly playing the four chords that have been stuck in his head all morning while he attempts to write lyrics to the melody. Only, he was having a bit of trouble doing so as he listened to Y/N’s voice again.

“Honestly, Mark! Really?” Y/N’s shouting is muffled, but Harry hears her still. “You really think that it doesn’t bother…” The rest of her words are a bit harder to hear as she quiets her voice. Harry never imagined he’d hear her raise her voice like that. That soft, sweet and gentle tone that he has spent dreaming about for weeks now.

Harry’s still plucking the chords he’s grown obsessed with, humming along while zoning out on the blank tv in front of him. He feels selfish, and rather ridiculous too, not wanting to imagine Y/N with another man. But he also feels selfish that he’s not upset over the fact they’re fighting for the third time in two days. Harry shakes his head and scolds himself for the thought. Regardless of his feelings, he shouldn't want Y/N to feel this way. He can tell these couple days must’ve been hard on her, working all day and then coming home to only end up in a yelling match with her prick of a boyfriend.

Harry rolls his eyes and notices that the shouting has stopped. The silence of his apartment, aside from his guitar, only makes him feel a bit sadder.

“I’m selfish, I know,” Harry sings, “but I don’t ever want to see you with him.”

Suddenly, his phone chimes from where it’s sat on the table, signalling an incoming phone call from Mitch. A picture of the two of them together in the studio last spring shows on the screen, Mitch tucked under Harry’s arm as they’re both slouching into the couch they sat on. Harry reaches for his phone and swipes his finger across the screen to accept his call.

“Hey,” Harry mutters into the phone, focusing on getting together his notebook and cleaning up the few torn crumpled pieces of paper littering his coffee table.

“Hey, you leaving your place soon?” Mitch asks. Harry can hear traffic in the background, meaning that he had already left his place that's located much closer to the studio than his own apartment is. Moving his shoulder up a little, he holds his phone between his ear and shoulder in order to use both hands as he sets his guitar into the open case that’s sitting on the chaise lounge of his couch. Then scrambling around to gather the scrap paper and glass of water he had, standing up with his trash in hand to throw away and glass in the other to put in the sink.

“Just about to,” Harry answers honestly, making his way into his kitchen to clean up. He sighs after clearing his hands and returns his phone to his left hand to hold now.

“You get busy with that neighbour of yours again. Got a new crush, H?” Mitch teases him. Rolling his eyes, Harry brushes a hand on his light wash jeans before patting his pocket to make sure his thin wallet was still there.

“No,” he mutters, obviously lying to his best mate - which Mitch is very aware of as he hums in response. “I’ll be there in, like, 20 if the tube isn’t a horror show.”

“You’ve lived here for nearly 3 years now, think you can call it the subway yet?”

“Nope,” Harry sighs. There were a few things his British instincts kicked in for; many different phrases and words he knew would stick in his vocabulary despite how many years he’s been in the U.S. Harry’s grabbing his green winter coat and slipping on his boots as he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear again. “Should I grab the gang some coffee on my way? Seeing as I’ll probably be the last to arrive,” Harry says in a tight voice, his annoyance from hearing Y/N and her boyfriend still clear even in his phone call with his mate.

“Don’t count on it. Tom hasn't answered his phone all morning, so something tells me he’s preoccupied,” Mitch suggests. Harry recalls the text he had gotten from his friend Tom, saying that he and the Missus were planning to celebrate their anniversary early this year. Mitch seems to be hinting that their celebrations have fallen into the morning too. Harry bets that Tom being MIA was because of his two children. The two of them knew how to gang up on their dad already at a young age—he couldn't imagine how they’d be when they grew up.

“He’s a dad, Mitch, that's probably what he’s preoccupied with,” Harry states. After putting on his coat, he walks over to clasp the case for his guitar closed and heaves it up before heading for the door.

“Point being, don’t bother with coffee. I’m in line at Starbucks anyways. Did you want anything?” Mitch asks.

“A slice or two of the banana loaf, please,” Harry requests, his stomach growling at the thought of food. Time had slipped by him this morning, listening to Y/N and her boyfriend argue, and he hadn’t eaten more than an apple for breakfast.

Harry double checks the lights are off in his apartment before shutting the door behind him, setting his guitar down to rest on the wall to his left, and locking it quickly. Mitch is complaining in his ear about some Karen at the front of the line. Harry chuckles at his friends colourful words and picks up his guitar, not sparing a glance at Y/N’s door as he walks to the elevator and hits the down button to call it to his floor. Not even a ten seconds go by and he hears someone exiting their apartment behind him. Harry doesn’t want to look over his shoulder to check, not wanting to see Mark and Y/N walking hand in hand towards him. So, he keeps his eyes trained up on the red numbers rising above the elevator doors, signalling it’s arrival, soon hopefully.

“Hey, Harry right?” Mark questions, pointing a finger at Harry as him and Y/N stepped up to the elevator. Y/N tries her best not to frown. She hates the way Harry doesn’t smile at her first before meeting Mark’s eyes and nodding.

“Hey,” Harry says. He turns his head and catches Y/N’s gaze. “What are you guys up to?”

Y/N knows he’s simply being polite, something Mark wouldn’t care to be - seeing as he’s already got his phone out of his pocket, and is staring at the screen as he answers. “Y/N’s driving me to the airport,” he states.

Harry looks at Mark, anger bubbling inside of him as he clutches the guitar case in his hand. The elevator doors open then, a light bing! coming from inside. Mark enters first, not even bothering to look at Y/N or Harry, but then Harry waves his free hand in motion to let Y/N walk in before him. She smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she walks into the small space and stands beside Mark.

“Thanks,” she says in a soft voice as Harry hits the button for the lobby. She takes note of the guitar case in his hand. “Are you heading to the studio?” She asks, pointing to the bulky item he’s carrying.

Harry looks down at his guitar case, “yeah, last day before everyone gets their break.”

“No more counting down the days then, huh?” She asks, mentioning their previous discussion about how people typically countdown the days till they have time off - her included this year. But Harry had mentioned that he wasn’t looking forward to his days away from the studio. He didn’t think she’d remember that.

“Counting the days till I’m back in the studio now,” Harry says. Y/N smiles and Harry’s heart bursts at the sight. Having heard her raised voice earlier today, being sure a scowl was etched on her face, he was glad to see her lips turned upward. Mark clears his throat then, causing both Y/N and Harry to quit looking into each other's eyes and step back into reality - her boyfriend was right beside them.

“Studio? What are you, a singer or something?” Mark asks Harry. His eyes catch sight of Mark’s arm snaking around Y/N’s back, resting lazily on her left hip as they stood there. Harry licked his lips and almost nodded, but was quick to catch himself and shook his head instead. “What kind of studio then? Movies?” Mark continues to question him.

“A music studio, I’m just a musician,” Harry answers.

“Oh,” Mark says, “cool,” he adds with a shrug. The elevator doors open and Mark guides him and Y/N out of the small space. “Well, see ya around, ‘Arry,” Mark says with a smug look, trying to mimic his accent. But he butchers it, of course, sounding more like Hagrid from Harry Potter. Mark then waves and turns himself and Y/N to the right of the lobby that leads to the stairwell that went down to the underground parking lot.

Y/N only gets to give Harry a quick smile before Mark turns her away. She wants to apologize for Mark’s ridiculous behaviour, feeling embarrassed by it. She also wanted to say that Harry wasn't just a musician, he was a songwriter too, which therefore meant he was a storyteller, and in her eyes songwriters were some of the most creative and talented people. Y/N wanted to shut Mark up and start bragging about Harry, like he was her boyfriend and Mark was just some dumb prick.

Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and licks them, glancing quickly over her shoulder before getting to the door. Her eyes meet Harry’s intense stare, him looking over his shoulder at her too, and her stomach erupts with butterflies. But then it flips and flops with nerves and her hands suddenly being tugged on by her boyfriend, holding open the door with his hip as he walks them through the doorway and out of Harry’s sight.

Harry finds himself thinking about Y/N the whole way to the studio—as if he hasn’t stopped thinking about her and her boyfriend over the past couple days anyways. Did she ever mention being in a relationship, even in the most subtle way? Did he misinterpret her kindness for flirting like an absolute idiot? These questions were on a loop inside of his head until he walked into the studio, flashed the front desk his ID badge, and headed to studio B where he and his mates would be working today.

“And he’s made it,” Mitch announces as Harry pushes closed the door and walks the few steps to his left where the brown leather couch was against the wall. Adam is sitting on the couch, the phone in his hand chimes as he types on it quickly, merely giving Harry a quick smile before looking back at the screen. Mitch is standing by the switch board, leaning back against it as he stares Harry down. Next to him is Tom, sitting in his chair and facing his many computer screens as he gets everything up and going for the day.

“And I see we were both wrong and Tom beat me,” Harry states. He sets his guitar down, leaning it against the side of the couch before sitting himself down beside Adam.

“I wasn’t answering my phone because I was already on my way over here way before any of you slowpokes, and then I turned off my ringer once I got in here,” Tom explains, leaning back in his chair while his eyes stay on the screen. But then he twirls around, facing Harry and Adam, and gives Adam a bored look. “Like we all agreed to do, right Adam?”

“Relax, I’ll do it after I send this last text,” Adam says.

“Sure,” Tom mutters, swivelling his chair back around and grabbing the mouse to continue his set up.

“Jeez, Tommy,” Mitch chuckles, “did you not get any last night or something? What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Harry’s eyebrows pull down as he takes in his friends stiff posture as Mitch’s words seem to sink in. “Wasn’t it your anniversary date last night?” He questions, keeping his voice light and not as daunting as Mitch’s had been.

Tom turns back around to face the boys and makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but then our babysitter called and was all freaked out and of course Jenny got all freaked out too. I tried to tell her it wasn’t that big of a deal and they could handle it, but we still ended up leaving our hotel room at nine o’clock and dealt with our two crying children who just missed their mommy. I was in bed by eleven.” Tom explains his night, ending with rubbing a hand up and down his face as he was clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

“That’s just life as a parent, man,” Adam states. “Emi and I didn’t have a single date night till Spike was five,” he adds with a shrug.

“Yeah, I get it but it’s just upsetting to have this whole night planned and then it not happen,” Tom says. Harry knew that feeling; he may have not had a full anniversary night away planned like Tom did, but the other day he was racking up things to do with Y/N before he was introduced to her boyfriend.

Harry zones out, eyes glued on the coffee table in front of him as he sighs softly, leaning back into the couch as he was getting wrapped up in his thought of Y/N, again. I could still be her friend, he thinks. Even though it’d hurt to see her with her boyfriend, to hear about a date night or see them kiss. The ache already begins in Harry’s chest as the mere thought of it, and he finds himself bringing a hand up and rubbing over his heart subconsciously.

“Harry,” Mitch calls, forcing Harry to snap out of his thoughts and look up at where he stood. He raises his eyebrows, making Harry think that he had said his name more than once but was ignored.

“What’s going on?” Tom asks Harry.

“He’s probably thinking about his latest little crush,” Mitch smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who is it this time?” Adam asks in a monotone voice.

“His new neighbour. Supposedly, she’s rather beautiful in Harry’s eyes,” Mitch teases.

“Not just in my eyes,” Harry mumbles, looking at his lap and picking off an invisible piece of lint.

“What do you mean?” Tom questions.

Harry hears Tom’s chair squeak suddenly, making Harry assume that he must be leaning back in it again. Harry looks up to see he’s right - Tom’s got his arms crossed at his chest like Mitch while they’re both staring him down. Harry lets out a sigh and shakes his head, leaning further into the back of the couch while he licks his lips and looks anywhere but at his friends’ faces - not wanting to see their taunting looks when he tells them.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Harry says in a low voice.

Mitch inhales a sharp breath, hissing through his teeth as he walks over and clamps a hand down on Harry’s shoulder. “That’s tough man,” he says.

Harry shakes his head again and sits up, causing Mitch’s hand to fall off his shoulder. “It’s not just tough. I get I have these crushes on people a lot, but I don’t know, there was just something different between us. We really clicked and I just thought we’d at least get to go out a few times,” he speaks softly into the quiet room,the support of some of his closest mates surrounding him.

“Have you written about how you’re feeling?” Tom asks. Harry nods and reaches for his guitar without a second thought, taking it out of the case and positioning the instrument in his lap.

“This is gonna be good,” Mitch nods his head and rolls over the second chair that occupied the room. Harry shakes his head at his friends comment.

“I’ve just had this tune in my head for a couple days now, and I’ve only come up with a few lyrics really, so I don’t know how good it will be,” he explains.

Harry plays the song he’s been playing all morning for the other three in the room. The soft acoustic guitar fills the silence, the twang from his guitar strings echoing off the walls. Harry shuts his eyes and lets his voice build up as he sings the two lines he’s been thinking about for a few days now. He feels it deep in his chest, the truth behind his words. Suddenly, more lyrics filter out of his mouth that hadn’t come up before.

“I’m selfish I know,” he sings, “I’d tell you but I know you’d never listen.”

It’s not entirely the truth, because he’s sure that Y/N would listen to anything he had to say. He’s also sure that if he walked up to her right now, ran out of this studio and back to the apartment and waited outside her door, begging for her to break up with him, that she wouldn’t listen. Harry believes that she’s a better person than that - that regardless if she felt what he had over their past few encounters, she wouldn’t listen to what he wanted and would figure things out herself.

“I hope you can see, the shape that I’m in,” Tom suddenly sings along to the tune that Harry’s still playing. Harry opens his eyes in a flash and looks at his friend, but Tom’s back is already to him as he’s facing his computer again. “I have the perfect piano and drums mix for this. I’ve had it kind of hidden away for the right time and I think this is it.”

And that’s when the magic happens. Harry puts down his guitar and gets right into the lyrics, pouring himself into yet another song. He lets his feelings out about the situation he’s gotten himself into with Y/N, and mixes it with some poetry he’s written previously in his journal. You flower, you feast, is something he’s had for quite some time but had never felt it really fit into any of his other songs. And yet somehow in this song full of duck noises, a guitar solo, and many lalalala’s, it somehow found its place.

Not to mention that Mitch absolutely murders the guitar solo. His long hair acts as a curtain as he sways to the music and lets himself go. Nearly every time that Mitch goes in for a solo, he doesn’t remember what he plays because he’s in such a trance, so Tom has to play it back for him if he needs to fix anything up. Overall, the song inspired by Y/N and her shit boyfriend is pretty great.

“Anything else you’ve got to bring to the table, Harry?” Tom asks after nearly six hours of working on perfecting their new song ‘Woman’ - named solely because of the repeating of the word in the course, which was chosen because he felt like he was calling out to Y/N in this song. Saying woman over and over again at her in hopes to get her attention. He simply shrugs and stretches back into the couch, sprawling his legs out in front of him while staring down at his journal that’s sitting in his lap.

“I’ve been writing this one based off a man I see everyday during my breakfast at the cafe down the street from my apartment,” he says. Harry clears his throat and sort of talk-sings what his idea of the melody is with the lyrics he’s got. “Nine in the morning, man drops his kids off at school. And he’s thinking of you, like all of us do. Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon, around one thirty two.”

“Alright, I like it,” Adam nods his head.

“Who’s he thinking of?” Mitch teases, “like all of us do,” he adds with a smirk. His lips then wrap around the straw that was in the can of Pepsi he had gotten from the mini fridge a while ago. Harry rolls his eyes and kicks out his foot in order to nudge Mitch’s leg from where he’s sitting in the desk chair he’s gotten comfortable in.

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles. Adam, Mitch and Tom all chuckle at their friend’s pout, which just makes him smile. He knew that coming into the studio and writing and making music about his situation with Y/N would ultimately make it feel even a little bit better. During the making of their newest song, his friends did give him some advice.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out, H,” Adam had said with a smile.

But there’s no way of knowing how he’ll feel when he bumps into her again, whether she’s with her boyfriend or not.

It’s been a tough few days for Y/N. Not only has work been crazy because not one, but two interns got sick with a stomach bug; meaning she was currently filling their job on top of her own and running around the city - but she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Harry.

She is in her own head again as she walks into the Gucci store on Fifth Ave. for the third time in two days. As Greg approaches her, she appreciates his light pink suit with a white ruffled shirt underneath. His bald head shines under the lights of the store, but that smile was much brighter and obviously, professionally whiten. Greg gives her a kiss on the cheek, saying they are a bit behind with her packages since it’s such a busy time for them as well. Y/N just nods and gives him a smile, accepting the flute of champagne as she takes a seat and waits. This is honestly the first time she’s gotten a chance to sit all day, but of course, she spends it zoning out on a sparkly dress hung up a few feet away from her as her mind begins to think of anything but work.

Mark and her started dating only a mere four months ago. After meeting at a bar in the Upper East Side, he practically stalked her - which isn't too hard considering her social media following - and sent her flowers to work for three days straight till she agreed to go on a date with him. Turned out that he wasn’t just some business man out on the town with some work buddies, but an heir to one of the country's biggest companies. Therefore, meaning that when the gossip started of the two of them seeing each other, Y/N’s mom was the first person to call.

“You hit the jackpot, baby!” She basically screamed into Y/N’s ear.

Y/N only rolled her eyes at her mothers words. Her mother was the typical New Jersey girl that grew up with big dreams of pinning down a wealthy New York City man - and kudos to her for doing it. Her dad, bless his heart, was an older naive man who somehow managed to fertilize her mother’s gold digging eggs and voila, Y/N was born. But with that being said, Y/N was lucky enough to have family money, so she never felt the need to be in a relationship just because a man had more in his bank account. She also had better morals than her mother, and knew that money wasn’t a factor when you really loved someone. So no, Mark was not the jackpot because of his bank account. Y/N just thought he was really nice and attractive too, so she agreed to be his girlfriend those four months ago. But it wasn’t till a month ago that that nice streak ended.

All of a sudden Y/N’s cell phone is ringing. She blinks out of her daze to realize she’s finished her glass of champagne while so deep in thought. Pulling out her phone, she looks at the screen to see it’s Mark calling. His ears must be burning, Y/N thinks.

“Hey,” Y/N answers softly, crossing a leg over the other and resting her elbow on her knee as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Hey, babe,” Mark sighs. Y/N knows right away what he’s about to tell her, all by the tone of his voice and the use of that nickname. He used it when he asked her to drive him to the airport yesterday, which he forgot to mention he needed her to do till an hour before he had to leave - resulting in Y/N being very behind on work for the day.

“How’s Arizona?” Y/N asks politely anyway, mentioning the state he was in for business this time around. He was always traveling for work; his father wants him to know all the branch executives, so therefore he’s been to pretty much every state in the country over the course of six months. The moment they started to date Y/N knew he’d be working a lot, but she didn’t expect him to be working all over the country. She’s lucky if she gets a weekend with him, and honestly, she was looking forward to the almost two weeks work free they’d be getting together. But something told her that was not going to happen.

“It’s good, hot,” he says, seeming distracted by something in the background to which he moves the phone away from his mouth to respond to someone around him. “No, no, not those, the red ones,” he orders.

“Mark?” Y/N questions, keeping her voice down as Greg and one of his associates come from the backroom then with a few boxes in hand. “I’m just a bit busy with work, was there a reason for you calling, hun?”

“Right…Well, unfortunately my time at the Arizona office will be extended. So, I’m not going to make it back to New York before Christmas,” Mark explains. Y/N frowns at his words even though it’s just as she imagined when she answered his call.

“When will you be back?” She asks, her eyebrows pulled together and lip pouting out slightly.

“That’s the thing, there’s really no point in me flying back to the East Coast so close to the holidays when I’ve got to be in Los Angeles for my family’s big festivities.”

“Oh,” Y/N says. She’s only sad for a moment, noticing that Mark is distracted by something in the background once again as his voice is muffled. “So when exactly are you planning to come back to the city, Mark?” She asks as she sits up and projects her voice louder into her phone. Greg and his associate seem to notice Y/N demeanour change, his baby blue eyes widening slightly as he sets the boxes down on the couch beside her.

“I don’t know-”

Y/N doesn’t let him speak, though, her anger getting the best of her for what feels like the millionth time since she began dating Mark. It’s so unlike her, she thinks. She shakes her head and says, “you don’t plan to come back to New York and spend any part of the holidays with your girlfriend? Your girlfriend who very much loves the holidays, by the way.”

“I’m aware of your love for the holidays, Y/N, little hard to not know when your apartment looks like a four year old decorated it with all that crap,” Mark huffs into the phone, his voice matching her tone.

“Oh my god, whatever, Mark,” Y/N snaps in a low voice, having to take a deep breath as she stares down at the floor. “Just go and have fun on the West Coast, don’t worry one bit about me ‘cause it seems you haven’t bothered to to begin with,” Y/N finds herself seething into the phone, keeping her voice low before pulling her phone away from her ear and hanging up before he can say one more thing to upset her.

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. Focusing on making her heart beat slow down and her hands to stop shaking. Did she just break up with him? No, no I didn’t say the words, I didn’t say it’s over and maybe I should have, Y/N thinks while letting out another short breath through her nose. She did not deserve this and she knew she didn’t, and yet she keeps putting up with his extended work trips and him disrespecting her opinions. Mark wanted a woman like Y/N’s mother. One that didn’t have her own hobbies and her own dreams, and who just wanted to be on his arm and live with whatever he put them through. Or did she even give him a real chance? That little voice in the back of her head, the one that was planted by her own mother, asks her.

“You look like you need another glass, mi amor,” Greg says softly, bringing her to open her eyes once more and realize that she did in fact just have a fight with her boyfriend over the phone in public. In front of a supplier too. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Thankfully, she thought of Greg as more of a friend than in a professional view. She smiles at him, forcing it, while he holds up the bottle of champagne and fills her glass.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” he nods, turning to his left to grab the second tall glass and fills it as well. Y/N chuckles as he brings it to his own mouth and has a sip. “What? The holidays are stressful, I deserve a glass too every once in a while.” Y/N only laughs again and raises her flute, Greg lifts his own to cheers her before they both take a sip. “Did you want to talk about it?” He asks after a beat of silence.

Y/N licks her lips, tasting the expensive champagne all over again. “It’s just,” Y/N sighs and runs a hand through her hair before she continues, “I thought that Mark was different when I first met him. He sent flowers to my work and took me to nice restaurants. He seemed to be really into me, and now, he’s really into his work and he thinks my love for the holidays is childish, and that my opinions and my time don’t matter. So, I’m starting to think I jumped into this relationship, maybe a bit too fast all because my mom approved of his last name and Sammy thought he was hot.” Y/N rants in a rush of words, bringing her flute to her lips afterwards for another sip.

Greg doesn’t respond right away, instead he too sips his champagne and looks around the room they sat in. He sighs and brings a hand down on Y/N’s thigh, causing her to look at him. He smiles and gives her a comforting pat.

“You are a young woman in New York City who’s really got her shit together, you know your worth, Y/N,” Greg says. Y/N mirrors his smile, feeling the back of her eyes threaten with tears at his sweet words. “You’ll know what to do about this man,” he adds with a wink. Greg removes his hand and lifts his flute to finish off his champagne. “Plus, men are trash anyways,” he mutters as his eyes wander around the room that’s quickly filling up with customers.

Y/N laughs, “yes, Greg, they can be.” She agrees. But there’s one man that comes to her mind. One with enchanting green eyes, beautiful dimples, a contagious laugh, and a certain swoon worthy accent.

And yet, Y/N is not surprised when her thoughts drift off to Harry again. In fact, she thinks about him the entire way back to her office, the few boxes from Greg in her arms as she travels on the subway and walks carefully on the slushy shovelled snow that covers the sidewalks. What is he up to today? She thinks, knowing that he must’ve gotten home from the studio late yesterday - maybe even this morning. She worked late on emails last night, only having her Christmas playlist playing softly from her TV, and she didn’t hear him get home. She wonders if he sleeps in when he does that, or if he still manages to get up early and do whatever it is he does every day. She doesn’t know his daily routine, but she admits to herself that she’s curious.

Having done the errands that were needed for the day, Y/N ends up sitting at her desk for the remaining three hours of her work day. Her and Amanda go over new interns to hire, seeing as Y/N’s boss doesn’t want her away from the office doing intern work forever. And then she and Sammy are walking out of the building together at five o’clock sharp. They endured yet another eleven hour work day today. And this was one of the easiest days this week, since it was spent shopping around and organizing the office. Tomorrow there would be two A-list clients coming in for their last styling of the year, both finalizing their outfits for the upcoming Grammy awards too.

“You seem off today,” Sammy says as they walk down the stairs to the subway.

“I, um,” Y/N licks her lips and narrows her eyes at the screen that reads when the next stop would be. She looks at her friend and sighs. “I got into a fight with Mark earlier,” she states.

“Another one?” Sammy questions, raising a brow and giving her a look that said ‘really?’.

“Yup,” Y/N says, rolling her lips into her mouth and nodding. “He’s too busy with work to come back to the city for the rest of the month, said he doesn’t see the point in coming back even for a day before he has to go back home to the West Coast. So, I ended up yelling at him in the middle of the Gucci store.”

“Are you for real?” Sammy asks in shock, his eyes widening as Y/N explains what her boyfriend had told her earlier.

“Yup,” she repeats, nodding her head again too. “Oh, and he said my apartment looked like a four year old decorated it and it looked like crap,” Y/N chuckles, realizing now how stupid Mark’s fighting words were.

“Y/N,” Sammy sighs, “dump him,” he says while placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a sympathetic smile. “I get that you wanted to give this guy a chance, but all you guys ever do is fight and I don’t want to say it but I’m going to,” he sighs again dramatically, “I’ve seen you smile over that new neighbour of yours more than Mark in the past few weeks. That’s a sign.”

“But what if I didn’t give Mark a real chance? And what if I’m just playing Harry up in my head-”

“No, none of that,” Sammy shakes his head and stares deep into Y/N’s eyes. “You are the most polite and sweetest person I’ve ever met. There’s no way in hell you didn’t give Mark a chance, hell you gave him a million chances, let’s face it. And as for Harry, you’ll never know unless you get to know him.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as Sammy drops his hand and tilts his head to the side. She notices the platform getting busier and louder then, as the subway makes way towards them from the North. This was her ride, while Sammy had to wait another ten minutes for the one that went to Brooklyn. Y/N thinks about what Sammy had said. Maybe she did give Mark plenty of chances and maybe their time was up, but that doesn’t mean she feels comfortable jumping right back into the game of dating with Harry. Plus, how bad would that make her look. Harry would probably think she didn’t care about relationships and typically shuffled around boys, which was so far from her case. In fact it was why she was so hesitant to date Mark in the first place - she didn’t like to give her time and love to just anyone. It’s just too bad she didn’t realize that Mark wasn’t worth it sooner.

“If I’m just getting out of this relationship with Mark, I can’t just start dating Harry,” Y/N exclaims to Sammy.

“I didn’t say date him right away, I said get to know him,” Sammy states, “hang out, be his friend, and if things happen then they happen. The world works in funny ways,” Sammy says matter of factly, pointing a finger at her while she starts taking a few steps towards the subway that’s coming to a stop. “We’ll talk later! Dump the fucking guy though!” Sammy shouts as Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes while getting into the mass of people cramming on the subway.

“Yeah, dump the son of a bitch,” a croaky voice startles Y/N as she gets through the door. An elderly woman is smiling back at her, her yellow teeth contrasting against her dark skin as she smiles wickedly at Y/N. She chuckles awkwardly and nods, walking across the space to an open seat.

Opening her purse, she finds her Airpods and puts them into her ears. They connect to her phone automatically and she begins to tap on her phone, deciding on which playlist she wants to listen to on her way home. Once she clicks shuffle on her ‘girl freaking power’ playlist, she turns it all the way up and lets the anger in Halsey’s voice fuel her own anger towards her shit boyfriend. She thinks of their fights that have happened recently the whole ride on the subway, then she thinks if it’d be too cruel of her to break up with him over the phone as she walks the few blocks to her apartment building. If he broke up with me over the phone I’d be a little upset, Y/N thinks with a frown as she walks across the lobby to the elevator.

Y/N, who was so in her own world with her music still turned up all the way as a new song by Olivia O’Brien, doesn’t even realize when Harry walks up beside her. He can hear her music blasting through her earphones. He leans forwards a bit, hoping to get in her line of sight. But she is still focused on the elevator doors, nodding her head to whatever song she’s got playing. Harry’s lips tug up into a smile. When he first saw her standing there when he entered the building he got a little nervous, unsure how this interaction between them would go. Should he apologize right away for not knowing she had a boyfriend and asking her for dinner?

“Hello?” Harry sings. “Y/N?” He calls in a normal voice. This time she seems to notice that someone is beside her. She jumps slightly, placing a hand over her heart and reaches up with the other to take out an Airpod which causes her music to stop completely.

“You scared me,” she breathes out.

“Sorry,” Harry says, giving her a timid smile. “I tried getting your attention a few times, it must be a good song.”

She looks down at the earphone in her hand and nods, “uh, yeah, just really into empowering female music today.” She states.

Harry hums and nods, then the elevator opens, revealing a few people inside which causes Y/N to step towards him as they move out of the way. If he hadn’t taken a step back fast enough she'd practically be right up against him. He breathes in and smells her perfume, the intoxicating scent of rose filling his nostrils with her being so close. Y/N gives a quick ‘you’re welcome’ to the people who step out as they thank them for moving before they both step into the elevator together. Harry was too busy thinking about how close Y/N had been to step up and hit the number six button before he could. He gives her a smile in thanks.

The elevator begins to ascend as the space falls into silence between them. They’re both overthinking. What should I say? Is what is on both their minds as they pass the first floor, and then the second. Harry lets out a short breath through his nose before leaning his back against the railing.

“I’m sorry for being so clueless,” he states, pausing when Y/N’s head whips up and her eyes meet his. “I didn’t think you’d have a boyfriend and I just didn’t think twice before asking you if you wanted to get dinner,” he says, finally getting the thought off his chest.

Y/N furrows her brows, “and why did you think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend?” She asks, teasing him, but Harry’s face falls and he stands straight once again, bringing both his hands up and waves them in front of himself as if in surrender.

“Not that you’re like not pretty enough for a boyfriend, or nice enough, cause to be quite honest I would be surprised if you didn’t have a boyfriend cause you are like the prettiest girl I’ve ever met and not to mention really nice and super cool too-”

“I was just teasing you, Harry,” Y/N stops him. But his words had caused quite the feeling inside her stomach, butterflies were multiplying like it was nobody's business while she swore she felt her heartbeat in the soles of her feet.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “right. Well, still, I’m sorry.” He casts his eyes down to the floor, feeling his cheeks warm up from embarrassment. The elevator sounds a quiet bing! as the doors open for them on the sixth floor. Harry lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s once more, motioning with his hand for her to exit first. She smiles and walks out with him right behind her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything till she’s at her apartment door, her key in the lock, and she notices Harry is at his door a few feet away. She sighs and stops twisting the key, letting her shoulder sag as she looks over at Harry.

“I’m sorry too, by the way,” she says. Harry looks up at the sound of her voice, thinking she was simply going to take in her apology and go about her merry life with Mark. He watches her tongue dart out and wet her lips as she leans into her door. “I should have mentioned Mark, even just in a quick comment, but honestly our relationship is sort of new and even a little non-existent at times, it seems, so I guess I was just enjoying making a new friend. I didn’t even think about it,” Y/N explains herself.

Harry takes in her words; that her relationship is new, and non-existent? He wonders what she means by that. But he can’t help but smile at her mentioning that she enjoyed becoming his friend. Harry nods his head and let’s his smile grow wider, knowing his dimples would show.

“I’d like to keep being your friend,” Y/N adds, “if that’s okay?”

“It’s totally okay,” Harry nods. Y/N smiles and nods back.

“Okay,” she says softly.

Harry fits his key into the lock without looking, keeping his eyes on Y/N’s as he notices her cheeks glowing a shade of pink. “How about a movie night? Tomorrow? If you’re not busy, of course,” Harry suggests, twisting his key and unlocking the door.

“I think I’m free. It’ll have to be Christmas themed, of course,” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes as if to challenge Harry to fight her on it - like Mark would.

“Well, yeah,” Harry scoffs, eyebrows pulled together and head shaking in faux disbelief. “Wouldn’t have it any other way during the month of December,” he adds.

Why couldn’t I have moved in like six months ago? Y/N thinks to herself as she smiles at Harry. She finds herself liking him more with every word that comes out of that pretty mouth of his. If only she had met him before she met Mark. Things would be easier, that’s for sure.

The two of them agree on a time for tomorrow, six in the evening, before saying their goodbyes and walking into their homes that were side by side. After Y/N takes off her shoes and coat, she walks towards her bedroom to get changed into some workout clothes for a quick at home video before she ate dinner. Just as she’s changing she hears the muffled sounds of Harry’s guitar - something she’s grown fond of hearing through their shared wall. Maybe she’ll get him to play her something tomorrow, she thinks with a smile.

Y/N makes her way back into her living room and starts up her workout video. She does some jumping jacks to get her warmed up, but honestly, her heart is already pounding in her chest from her interaction with Harry and the plans they have made. Without a doubt she knows she’ll be counting down the hours during her work day tomorrow till six o’clock.

Elf or Polar Express? Both were very different Christmas movies, and they were the two she was torn between taking over to Harry’s. They hadn’t talked about who’s apartment they would hang out in, but as it was ten minutes to six, she hoped to get out the door and knock on his first, in order to get the chance to ask him to play his guitar for her maybe. But that’s not how it’s going to work out because Y/N’s too busy being stuck between two of her favourite movies when suddenly, there’s a knock at her door. She frowns knowing that it’s Harry and wouldn’t get to hear him play guitar, but gets up from where she was sitting crossed legged on the floor to answer the door.

Her fuzzy socks pad across the hardwood floor as she walks to her door, peering through the peephole quickly to double check to see it was Harry. She smiles at the sight of his floppy brown hair and unlocks her door before swinging it open. Harry looks up as she opens the door, meeting her gaze for only a moment before he watches her take in his apparel.

He had thought about it for way too long, what he was to wear to hangout and watch movies with the girl he liked, but ended up staying dressed down as he was all day. Y/N liked how the plain white shirt he wore fit him, only a small brand logo that was over his heart, but she really liked the pastel rainbow coloured sweatpants he wore too. He looks comfy and ready to lay back and relax for a few hours with her. He’s not wearing any shoes though, which makes Y/N furrows her brows for a second.

“I didn’t really see any point in putting on shoes for the few feet out of my apartment,” Harry states quickly to let her know. Y/N nods, chuckling under her breath, but understanding what he means. She steps back and lets him into her home.

Harry takes in the atmosphere of Y/N’s apartment for the second time now. The glow from her many Christmas lights makes him feel warm inside, and her Christmas tree was the focal point of it all. He likes the odd ornaments that are littered among the branches, and he can’t quite make out what they all are, but something tells him that they each hold a special meaning to Y/N. Maybe some from her childhood, others from some trips she’s had - he could see her collecting them from anywhere she’s travelled to. Harry makes a mental note to ask her at one point.

“I was thinking of making some hot chocolate, and I have a bag of, like, this candy cane and white chocolate pretzels that I’ve been obsessed with lately and was going to munch on that during the movie, but I have a bunch of other snacks too, honestly,” Y/N starts to explain to Harry. He turns on his heels to see she’s already locked her door and is now moving into the kitchen.

“I’m cool with some hot chocolate,” Harry nods, “and I’ll give the pretzels a try, they sound good.”

“They are so good, oh my god,” she moans at the mere thought of eating them. Bending down to open her bottom drawer, she reveals a well organized array of munchies that looked like a stoner's heaven.

As she’s ruffling through the drawer Harry takes in her outfit. She’s got on a pair of Christmas themed pajama bottoms with little snowflakes scattered along the dark blue material that matched with her plain dark blue shirt. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, wispy hairs falling around her face as it looks as though it’s been up all day and she hasn’t cared to fix it. Overall, she looks comfortable and at ease - as she should be in her own home. He had wondered if she ever dressed down, seeing as he had only ever seen her after a day of work dressed in trendy high fashion, but somehow casual clothing. Christmas pajamas suit her, he thinks with a smile.

Y/N gets a hold of the bag of pretzels she’s talking about and opens it, taking one out for herself right away to bite down on before turning to Harry who’s standing in her kitchen. She smiles at the pretzel and lifts the bag to him. Harry takes a few steps towards her before reaching into the bag and grabbing one for himself. He brings it to his mouth and Y/N watches for his reaction. His jaw flexes as he chews down on the sweet yet salty treat.

Harry hums and nods, reaching into the bag again, “not bad,” he says before chewing on another one. Y/N smiles and passes him the bag all together, turning towards the stove top to turn on the kettle already filled with water.

“Can you find two mugs in that cabinet?” Y/N asks Harry as she looks to her left and sees him standing in front of the cabinet that held her many mugs and glasses. She points to it and Harry nods. He puts the bag of pretzels down after sneaking one last one into his mouth, and opens the cabinet door to reveal Y/N’s collection of mugs. He goes for the two at the front, which were Christmas themed, of course; one shaped like the Grinch and the other like Santa. As he sets them down on the counter in front of him, beside the bag of pretzels that he sticks his hand into again, he notices a glass container full of brown powder that he assumes is her hot chocolate mix.

“Is this your hot chocolate mix?” He asks, just to be sure.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, “I honestly make myself a cup almost every night during the colder seasons.”

“Are you a coffee or tea person?” Harry asks, keeping his eyes on the container as he twists it open and sees a metal teaspoon measuring cup inside already. He starts to scoop some into each mug as he waits for Y/N’s answer. Although he is very aware of her possibly liking coffee, considering how he’s seen her with many Starbucks cups before.

“Yeah, I enjoy both too. I have way too much coffee during my work days, and tea reminds me of the days at my grandparents,” she explains, watching Harry scoop her preferred amount of mix into each mug without even asking. She smiles softly, seeing him reach for yet another pretzel too.

“Are you saying tea is for old people?” Harry questions, raising a brow as he peers at Y/N in the corner of his eye. Y/N rolls her eyes, a smile still on her lips. Her kettle begins to squeal into the air, but she’s quick to turn and take it off the heat. She turns off the stove and uses a tea towel to bring it over to the mugs - Harry steps back out of her way, but not before grabbing the bag of pretzels.

“Old people and the British too, of course,” Y/N teases.

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says in agreement. He waits till Y/N fills the mugs and sets the kettle back down on the stovetop before he steps back to the counter and wraps a hand around the handle of the Grinch mug. Y/N is quick, stepping towards him and gently slapping his hand.

Harry flinches his hand away and raises a brow at Y/N, jokingly taken back by her action. Y/N bites down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from giggling over how cute that look on his face was.

“I have whipped cream that’s in a can, but it’s still good,” Y/N states, giving him a look that said ‘back off and let me do this’. Harry only chuckles again and nods. “Also slow down on the pretzels, if I don’t get any during the movie I’ll be very upset.”

“They’re addicting, sorry,” Harry mumbles through his mouth full of pretzels, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Trust me, I know. That’s like my fourth bag this week, I swear,” she states with a chuckle.

As Y/N walks to her fridge Harry steps up to the mugs once more and takes a chance on the drawer directly under them for a spoon. His instincts are right as he pulls the drawer open to see her utensils; he grabs a teaspoon in order to stir the hot chocolate. Y/N turns back from the fridge with the whipped cream can in hand, turning around to see Harry focused on the mugs. She smiles, tilting her head as she watches him nudge the drawer closed with his hip, and begin to stir the contents of them till the powder was all mixed in with the water. Look at them being all domestic, she thinks. Licking her lips, she shakes her head a little and walks up to Harry, shaking the can of whipped cream and waits for him to finish stirring. He sets the spoon in the sink and watches as Y/N tops off the mugs with a heap of whipped cream.

“You better actually eat the whipped topping this time,” Harry says to her teasingly, referring to when they had hot chocolate in the park, and she let her whipped cream melt. Y/N chuckles and brings the tip of the whipped cream can to her open mouth.

She puts pressure on the top again and makes the sweet cream pile into her mouth as she tips her head back, the aerosol can is the only noise in the room as Harry watches her do it. His breath catches in his throat and he blinks several times as he imagines an entirely different scenario with this whipped cream can and her mouth. Y/N brings the whipped cream away from her mouth and swallows, watching Harry do the same thing - did she make him feel uncomfortable? She thinks to herself as she licks her lips and looks down at the ground. Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it, she thinks while walking back to the fridge to return the whipped cream to the shelf. When she turns back, she sees that Harry has both mugs in his hands.

“Maybe I should just have both of these, since you’re probably full from that mouth full of whipped cream,” Harry teases her, bringing both mugs to his lips, acting as if he’s going to slurp up the whipped topping that’s nearly flowing over the side.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N gasps, reaching forward quickly for the Grinch mug, but Harry moves it out of her grasp faster.

“I want the Grinch one,” he says with a slight whine to his voice. Y/N can’t stop the giggle this time, blushing afterwards as she thinks of how freaking adorable he is.

“Fine,” she sighs and takes the Santa mug from him instead.

Harry grins and lets her lead the way back into her living room, the bag of pretzels in his other hand. Y/N sets her mug down on the coaster on the coffee table, just like she had with her glass of wine the last time Harry was over. He watches as she sits cross legged on the floor in front of her tv stand. Y/N grabs the two movies she was debating over earlier in each hand and lifts them up for Harry to see. He loves them both of course.

“Which one? I can’t decide,” Y/N states. Harry hums and lifts his mug to his lip to slurp up some whipped cream.

“Elf,” Harry answers, “I’m in a Will Ferrel comedy kind of mood,” he adds.

“Alright,” Y/N chuckles under her breath and turns away from Harry to open her DVD player and then open the case for Elf. He liked that she had the movies on physical DVD, not just clicking away on a streaming app. She places the DVD in the player and then closes it again before standing up quickly and skipping over to the couch, plopping down excitedly but gently that Harry isn’t even scared that he’ll spill his hot chocolate.

“We can watch the other one next time,” Harry suggests, feeling brave in the moment as the trailers start to play softly on the screen and Y/N is reaching for the remote that sat on the coffee table. She looks at him and smiles.

“‘kay, yeah, next time,” she pauses but then points the remote at Harry. “But next time you’re hosting, I feel like we should switch it up sometimes,” she adds and waits to see Harry nod with a smile before she turns to the TV and gets to the main menu of the movie.

“Fair, I just think my place lacks the holiday cheer that we would want,” Harry explains. Y/N stops her from hitting play right away and leans back into the couch, flopping her head to the side to look at Harry. He’s still holding his mug, which reminds her that her own is sitting there untouched, so she sits up again and grabs it.

“Well you know what would fix that?” She questions, bringing the mug to her lips and slurping up some of the whipped cream that was in fact already melting. Harry watches her as her eyes are glued to her mug, focused on not spilling it over the sides it seems.

“Decorations?” He asks, still watching her. He smiles as she licks her upper lip that’s covered in melting whipped cream.

“Exactly,” she nods enthusiastically. She takes another few sips of her hot chocolate before leaning back into her couch once again, getting all snuggled up before lifting the remote to the TV and hitting play.

“I’m not really good with decorating - my sister and mom did my apartment to be honest,” Harry admits. Y/N watches the opening scene of one of her favourite Christmas movies, feeling all giddy inside as it’s the first time she’s watching it this holiday season. She gets like this every year with every holiday movie.

“Well, I can help you out. Maybe we can do a little trip to Target before our next movie night. Then do a quick set up and then watch the movie after,” Y/N suggests, nervously peering over at Harry over the rim of her mug after. She doesn’t know if she’s crossing a line or anything. She just wants to spend more time with him, even if it’s just as friends.

Harry gives Y/N a half smile, one of his dimples making an appearance as he looks into her eyes. He would love that, honestly. The idea of them wandering through the Christmas isles at Target as she gives him advice on what decorations would go together and fit his apartment style; they would set up the decorations after and he’d watch her be in her element. Maybe he’d put on some Christmas music and hope she would dance around. Harry gives Y/N a short nod.

“I like that plan,” Harry tells her.

Y/N smiles and nods back at him. “Then it’s a deal, we’ll set a time after the movie. It’s about to get good,” she says, looking back at the TV screen again as Will Ferrel’s character makes his appearance.

“The whole movie is good,” Harry states.

“Shh,” Y/N hushes him, taking another sip of her drink and keeping her eyes on the movie. Harry smiles and watches her watch Elf. He notices her hand gently tapping the cushion between them after a moment. Harry chuckles under his breath and nudges the bag of pretzels open, taking a few for himself before facing the bag her way. Once she’s got one between her teeth she feels completely content.

She’s got a cup of yummy hot chocolate, her favourite snack, Christmas lights are twinkling around her, one of her favourite Christmas movies is playing, and she’s with good company too. In fact, she finds herself not once thinking of Mark the rest of the night. Even in her dreams, it’s Harry, again.

They exchanged phone numbers. It’s not a big deal, Harry thinks to himself as he gets a third text from his newest contact in his phone. But it felt like a big deal; it was an easy way to get a hold of her whenever he needed to or wanted to even. Not that he would just bother her for no good reason. As much as he’d like to text with her all day, he knows that they really just exchanged phone numbers in order to plan to hangout easily. Like for today, Y/N had a long work day, but still wanted to take Harry Christmas decor shopping, so she was asking him if he could just meet her at the closest Target.

There’s one a few blocks away from the apartment, I’ll send you the location, are you able to meet me there? She texts along with a Google Maps link to the store. Harry tapped out a response right away, letting his focus sway away from the TV show he had on when her name lit up his screen.

Sounds good to me, what time? Harry hits send and notices the bubble with three dots pop up right away. She must have a moment at work right now; he checks the time to see it’s just past noon, assuming she’s on her lunch break.

I should be leaving the office by 3pm today, then it’s like a 15 minutes subway ride and 5 minute walk to get there for me. So like 3:30ish, is that okay with you? Wait. Are you busy today? I didn’t even ask if you were working too, sorry. She sends the texts in a few separate bubbles, realizing that she didn’t even ask if Harry was working or not today. Y/N has no idea what the schedule of a songwriter was like. Harry chuckles at her little panic and types out his response.

Super busy…. Watching mindless TV shows on Netflix. He adds a laughing emoji for good measure, to which Y/N replies with some of her own laughing emojis before saying God I wish that was how my day was going.

Y/N ends up texting Harry her whole lunch break. He asks about what she’s been doing today, his responses seeming very interested in the adventures she has had in the office being a stand in model since her measurements were close to a clients. She then asks what show he’s watching, to which he tells her about this Netflix baking show called Sugar Rush and he tells her about the challenge the contestants on the most recent episode endured. Y/N finds herself smiling at her screen, nearly forgetting to even eat her lunch. Sammy clears his throat just a few minutes before their time is up and causes her to look up at him, raising her eyebrows at his own.

“What?” She asks, stabbing her fork into the salad she had Sammy pick up for her earlier.

“Nothing,” Sammy hums, Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just noticed you’ve been quite busy on that phone of yours for the past, oh, I don’t know, twenty five minutes,” Sammy teases her, eyes widening slightly and motioning his hands in the air with his words. He did that a lot, talking with his hands, that is.

“So?” Y/N tries to brush off her friend's pushy behaviour.

“So? Really? We’re just going to act as if you’re not giggling at your phone screen like a little school girl?” Sammy questions.

“I am not doing that,” Y/N huffs.

“Yeah, sure, sweetie and I’m straight,” Sammy rolls his eyes dramatically and then pouts while shaking his body in his seat. Y/N furrows her brows at his behaviour. “I live off your love life. Please give me something, anything. Please just tell me that you’re talking to that hot neighbour of yours and let me continue on my merry little day knowing that your love life is about to be thriving while mine is dead.”

Y/N sighs and tries to ignore as her phone vibrates again, signalling that Harry had texted her back. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over his chest, covering the deep v-cut of her black body suit that she was wearing with a pair of red slim legged slacks, and a matching red blazer that was currently laying over the back of the chair she sat in. Amanda didn’t have any sort of dress code for work, merely to come in looking professional and stylish, which for Y/N, meant a good pant suit moment every once in a while. But with still keeping it sexy and young by pairing it with a bodysuit.

“Fine, I’m texting Harry,” Y/N tells Sammy, feeding into his gossip need for the day. “We actually hung out two night ago, he came over for a movie night-”

“What?! Why am I just hearing about this now?” Sammy questions, sitting up quickly and throwing his hands in the air. “What happened? Touching? Did you kiss? Oh my lord, tell me what his peni-”

“Sammy! Oh my god, relax, please,” Y/N cuts him off, putting a hand up to stop him from talking. “Nothing happened. Sorry to disappoint, but I am still in a relationship with Mark. Harry just came over, we made some hot chocolate and polished off a bag of those delicious candy cane pretzels.”

“Those pretzels are good,” Sammy nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but anyways, nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen. We’re just friends, and I enjoy being around him a lot. So, today after work we’re going to Target to buy his apartment some decorations, then we’ll probably order in some food and watch another movie.”

“Sounds pretty couple-y to me,” Sammy says in a high pitched tone. Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at her friend again.

Y/N couldn’t lie, though. The few hours later in Target, they looked like a couple. Harry pushes the cart down the aisle while she tilts her head and debates which tinsel really fit Harry’s aesthetic. She brings the Starbucks cup to her lips and sips the warm caramel flavoured latte. Y/N was pleasantly surprised when she saw Harry walking up to her outside the Target with two Starbucks holiday cups in his hand. He gave her a timid smile and explained what both of the drinks were, saying he hadn’t tasted either and wanted to see what she wanted first before taking the other for himself. It was unexpected and ridiculously sweet of him to do.

“I think red would look really nice around your apartment, kind of spice up the place a little,” Y/N explains, her free hand skimming over the many different tinsels that were hanging up before her. Harry agrees, red would look nice in his apartment and spice things up a lot, except his mind is thinking of this red pant suit she’s wearing right now. He thinks it would look rather nice on his bedroom floor.

When she walked up to him and he took in her outfit, he nearly tripped over his own feet and spilled the two coffees he brought with him. But he kept himself together, well, sort of. He stumbled over his words, rambled like a fool about why he got the two coffees for her, but they finally got into the store, which now, he’s just been checking her out as they walked to the Christmas section. Get it together, Harry thinks to himself.

“Red’s nice,” Harry says, his voice cracking slightly. So, he clears his throat and steps away from the cart to pick up a piece of tinsel that Y/N was looking at. “I like the bit of silver mixed in too,” he comments.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she says with a smile before grabbing four more of the same one and adding it to the cart. Harry does the same with the one in his hand and then puts his hands on the cart once more, pushing it back and forth just a few inches. Harry can’t stop himself from admiring that suit once more as she bends down to check out the many different boxes of tree ornaments.

“Which ones?” Y/N asks, quickly turning her body. Y/N catches his gaze on her body, but Harry blinks quickly and meets her stare. The corner of her lips tug up into a smug smile at the thought of Harry checking her out.

“The ones in your, uh, your right hand,” Harry answers her questions, clearing his throat again and watching as she stands straight before putting the ornaments into the cart.

They continue their way through Target, still looking very much like a couple as they grab a few bags of the candy cane pretzels that Y/N got Harry hooked on the other night before heading to the check out. Harry insists on paying for the few little items of Y/N’s in the cart, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t a huge deal. He almost doesn’t let her carry a single thing, but she quickly gets a hold of a standing Santa decoration that was too big for a bag and hugs it to her chest their whole walk home.

Harry unlocks his apartment door for them, noticing how their neighbour Mr Matthers is opening his at the same time to peer out and see who’s in the hallway. Harry holds open the door for Y/N, she thanks him in a small voice and smiles at him. Looking back out into the hallway, Harry waves at Mr Matthers, who simply returns it with a scowl on his face before Harry steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Suppose their neighbour is a bit jealous of Harry, he’s seen the way he looks at Y/N. Hell, especially today in that suit, everyone on the street was looking at Y/N with wide eyes and big smiles - Harry felt like quite the lucky guy, little did everyone know they were in fact not together. Just friends, Harry reminds himself for the millionth time.

“Oh, I love the tree,” Y/N states, her voice bringing Harry back to Earth as he locks the door and walks over to his coffee table to set down the many bags in his arms. Y/N is still holding the Santa decoration to her chest, looking at the fake Christmas tree he had purchased on Amazon yesterday on a whim. He was thinking about them decorating together again, and thought that it wouldn’t feel right if he didn't have a tree too. It’s a good thing he told Y/N over text, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten ornaments or anything for it.

“Yeah, I just got the first one that included lights on Amazon, to be honest,” Harry tells her. Y/N chuckles and walks over, setting the Santa decoration just beside the tree gently.

She brushes a hand over the tree and smiles, “it’s wonderful, really pulls the whole festive look together in my opinion.”

“I agree,” Harry nods. He grabs for the TV remote and turns it on, quickly turning the volume down before he sets it up to the music channels - clicking on the Christmas tunes without a second thought. Y/N watches Harry, her heart hammering in her chest as the soft sounds of Michael Buble fills the room. Mark would never do any of this - he wouldn’t voluntarily put on Christmas music, ever. In fact, he shut off the station in her car on the way to the airport. And he definitely wouldn’t decorate with her either, seeing as he thinks that her apartment looks childish. She pouts at the thought of her and Mark’s phone call the other day. He hasn’t called or texted her since.

“Did you not want to listen to Christmas music?” Harry asks suddenly, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts and turns to look at him. He’s taking off his jacket, revealing a white shirt underneath with a bumble bee and some blue writing around it, paired with his purple trousers and a pair of white socks on his feet after slipping out of his shoes too. Y/N loves his simple yet not basic style.

“No, no,” Y/N assures him, finally unbuttoning her blazer now and taking off the mittens and beanie she had worn in the cold. She stuffs them into the blazer pocket and slips out of it. “I love Christmas music so much, honestly maybe a little too much, Mark hates it,” she admits.

A shiver falls over her body as she realizes then she’s simply in the rather thin bodysuit that also dipped very low in the front. Y/N doesn’t look at Harry as she feels her nipples harder from the coolness of his apartment, embarrassed as she didn’t prepare for her attire after going out. Harry suddenly lifts up a hand, his pointer finger up as if to say ‘one second’, then he’s walking down the hallways and returns not even a minute later with a black sweater in hand.

“It’s clean, just washed today, I promise,” Harry tells her, holding out one of his favourite jumpers for her. He had been given a few merchandising pieces from the label over the years and this plain black jumper that read ‘Columbia’ on the front in white has been in his possession for a couple years now. In his opinion, it was very comfortable due to how much he’s worn it.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly while taking it from him.

She puts it on and is immediately warmer. Her hands cover completely because of how long the sleeves are and it falls down past her bum too, due to the large size. She looks good, Harry thinks as he takes in her wearing his clothing. Y/N smiles and turns to grab things from the Target bags they had just brought in.

“Okay, let’s begin with the tree then,” she says excitedly, trying to clap her hands together but just ends up smacking the sleeves of Harry’s hoodie together.

It’s just as Harry imagined it. The soft lights from the Christmas tree glow over the shadows of Y/N’s face as she wraps the red tinsel around the base of it before passing it to Harry in order for him to reach the taller portion of the tree. She dances when Jingle Bell Rock plays on the TV, his jumper swaying around her body because of how big it is on her. They’re both smiling and singing along to the music, jokingly of course. Harry wasn’t about to show her all his little secrets and start belting out White Christmas along with the singers of Wham!

“Can you pass me a couple of the silver balls?” Y/N asks Harry, her eyes on the tree as she put the last red ball ornament she had grabbed onto a branch. Harry raises his eyebrows in a joking manner.

“The what?” He questions, but still making his way to where the array of different coloured ball ornaments laid on the couch.

“Like two of the balls,” she says again. Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling up and his dimples fully showing as he does. Y/N furrows her brows, but then gets why he’s laughing. “You’re a child,” she scolds him playfully.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry states, grabbing two of the ornaments she’s asking for and passing them to her.

“Thank you for the balls, Harry,” she says. They both end up laughing this time, she can’t help it. His laughter is contagious with how his eyes squint up and his dimple somehow deepens, not to mention the little vocal ‘aha’ he does before laughing. It makes Y/N’s stomach ache, not from laughing too, but with the butterflies. Those stupid little butterflies that have made a home inside of her stomach since meeting this kind, handsome, British man.

Once the tree is done, Y/N beats Harry to ordering them food. They decide on getting sushi, which is something she could never order with Mark since he has this personal vendetta against seafood for some reason. But Mark isn’t on her mind for long. It’s all Harry, all the freaking time. She likes how he beams a winning smile at the delivery guy and thanks him three times in the sixty seconds he’s at his door, and how he barely pays his phone any attention the whole night besides when it chimes with a few texts that he explains is his workmates group chat. Now, she can’t stop watching him chew his food; how his jaw flexes with each bite and how his eyebrows furrow when he can’t get the chopsticks to grab the California roll he wanted. Why do I find him eating so attractive? Y/N shakes her head slightly and forces herself to look back at the TV that’s playing the Sugar Rush show on Netflix that Harry was texting her about earlier.

Harry collects their take out containers after a few moments to ensure that Y/N is done, asking her just to be sure she doesn’t want the two pieces that are left over. She thanks him, but says no, and he manages to grab all five containers in one trip to the kitchen. His mom most definitely raised him well, Y/N thinks as she lays back on his couch and watches the TV show. It suddenly hits Y/N, his brows pulling together as she pushes herself to sit up and turns her body to look behind her through the open concept to look at Harry.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” She asks him. Y/N assumed home was England, besides obvious factors, but she remembers him telling her about driving in London once. Harry brushes his hands on a tea towel that's hanging off his stove before turning to walk back into the living room.

“Um, no, not this year,” Harry says.

“Oh, do you typically go home and visit your family? You mentioned your mom and sister had decorated this place though, do they live here?” She throws the other questions his way as he walks around the couch and sits in his spot again.

“They all live in England, yeah,” he nods, “my mom, my step dad, older sister and her boyfriend all flew out here with me to help me settle in the few years back when I got my job. But I do usually go home for holidays, or just casually during the summer. Earlier this year I had to make an unexpected trip,” Harry pauses and clears his throat as he looks away from Y/N as he feels that familiar pain in his chest, “my step dad passed away. So it just took a bit of money out of my account, I decided not to fork out the money for expensive flights during the holidays.”

Hearing that Harry had lost his step dad recently torn Y/N’s heart in two. She frowns, taking a deep breath before reaching over and placing a hand over Harry’s that rested folded in his lap. Harry looks at where their skin touched, it felt like his hands were vibrating under her touch. She swipes her thumb over his knuckles, the touch so soft like a feather just barely skimming over his skin. Harry has to stop himself from flipping his hand over slowly and intertwining their fingers together. She has a boyfriend, she’s just being a good person and comforting a friend.

“I’m very sorry to hear about your step dad, Harry,” she soft and gentle voice, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his knuckle again as she watches him inhale deeply through his nose.

Harry clears his throat of the threatening tears and shakes his head slightly, a piece of his hair falling onto his forehead as he does. He takes one of his hands and lays it over Y/N’s, giving it a few pats. Tonight had been good

and fun, and he didn’t want to go ruining the mood with his tears. So, he lifts his head and looks at Y/N, finding her somber eyes staring at him already. He forces a smile, licking his lips before clearing his throat again.

“Thank you,” he says, “I don’t want to make this good night all emotional now, so yeah, the short answer is I’m not leaving the city for the holidays this year. I do have a trip planned in March to see my mum for mothers day though,” Harry explains, rubbing Y/N’s hand that’s between his.

Y/N mirrors his smile, although it’s not as full as usual, a bit sad still as she thinks about what Harry and his family must’ve gone through this year - and that his mother won’t see her son her first Christmas without her husband to top it all off. Maybe she could buy his flights? But no, no she couldn’t, she thinks sadly. They sit there like that for another moment, her hand between his much larger once, and they stare at each other. Finally, Y/N lets out a sigh and tries to get out of her head before she ends up crying. Harry lets go of her hand slowly, and she brings both hands to her face to brush back her hair. Harry does the same to get the strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead back into place.

“Well I’m glad you can go see your mom for mothers day, at least,” Y/N says, looking at the positive. Harry nods and then leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to stretch out.

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, “she’s already telling me all about the plans she’s made for my trip and talks my ear right off as if it’s happening tomorrow.” Harry tells Y/N with a chuckle.

Hearing his little laugh brings a real smile to her face this time. “I’m sure she’s counting the days till you fly in,” Y/N says. She is starting to feel a little tired as she lays back on the couch, laying her legs out on the chaise. Harry watches as she pulls the sleeves of his jumper back down, she had rolled them up while eating so they didn’t get in the way, but he likes the sweater paw look on her as she snuggles into the couch.

“Do you spend Christmas at home still?” Harry asks her, keeping his voice soft as he realizes it’s gotten late and both their eyelids are getting heavy.

“My parents have something on Christmas Eve, sometimes I spend the night, other times I make my way home,” she exclaims vaguely.

Y/N doesn’t love her times at home anymore; she finds her parents ‘I’m too rich for anything' attitude to be tiresome. As she grew up into her own person, she realized the privilege she had with the wealth she grew up with. She started to see how pointless some parties her mother threw, and how little she would have to try to just coast through life. Y/N didn’t want to grow up like every other bratty kid on the Upper East Side, so she moved out right after graduation, got into fashion school, focused on herself, and earned her own money - all while learning of how to use her privilege for good, like donating her time and money to good causes. Something her parents only did to look good within their social circle.

So, going back home for over the top holiday parties, getting gifted a new car every year, and seeing her parents throw their money at whatever, really only bothered her more than anything. Y/N would simply stop in for Christmas Eve, enjoy a few hours with family and then go home to her own world again.

A yawn slips past Y/N’s mouth as she’s deep in thought, which then makes Harry yawn as the both of them bring their hands to cover their mouth and then letting out soft laughter afterwards. Y/N sits up and stretches both arms above her head. “I guess I should head home,” she says before standing up slowly.

“Yeah, you’ve got a long way to go,” Harry jokes.

“Oh yeah, it’ll take me ages,” Y/N adds onto the joke with a smile. “Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it,” she says.

Harry nods, “well thank you for helping me with all this,” he says, motioning to the decorating they had done. They both glance around the room then at their work. The red and silver decor matched Harry’s aesthetic perfectly, just as Y/N thought it would.

“We didn’t watch Polar Express,” Y/N realizes suddenly, pouting.

“Next time, Y/N,” Harry chuckles. She huffs and lets out a sigh, muttering a quiet ‘fine’ before making her way towards his front door. Harry follows behind her, planning to lock the door and listen till she gets into her own apartment before getting ready for bed.

“Should I text you when I’m home safe? It’s just so far away,” Y/N continues to joke around, causing Harry to smile as he watches her grab her blazer and slip into her shoes.

“You never know, Mr Matthers across the hall could intercept you on the way home and kidnap you. I wouldn’t sleep till I got that text knowing you got home safely,” Harry says, half joking. Cause you never know with Mr Matthers, he thinks. Y/N laughs and hugs her blazer to her stomach while standing beside the door, reaching for the handle but keeping her gaze on him.

“Mr Matthers is harmless,” Y/N says.

“He’s obsessed with you,” Harry counters back. Y/N just rolls her eyes and unlocks the door before swinging it open.

“Goodnight Harry,” she says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry says back with a smile. She mirrors his smile and then walks off into the hallway. Harry watches the door shut behind her and walks over to lock it before turning off the few lights in the living room and entryway. As he is turning off his TV his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Made it home safely and in bed! Sweet dreams read Y/N’s text sent seconds ago. Harry breathes out a chuckle as he walks down the hallway to his bathroom to begin his nightly routine. As he turns on the light for his bathroom he types back a response. Cheeky.. Sweet dreams Y/N. He turns off the screen before he stands there and waits for her to reply with anything, his heart would even flutter over an emoji.

He was so far gone for this girl, he couldn’t stop himself from falling any longer - but it had felt inevitable from the moment his eyes had met hers in the elevator.

>> part three <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #boyfriend!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #1dff #cstsyl

414 notes · View notes

lunaserenade · 4 years ago

Text

Exposed

Masterlist

Part 12 of the Meet Me at Sunrise Series

Previous Chapter: Entangled

Next Chapter: Bruised

Author’s Note: FINALLY got past my writers’ block, more chapters to follow shortly!

Beta reading dream team: @violentcosmicsymphony and @briefgalaxycat

Paring: Marcus Pike x FBI Agent!Reader

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: None

Summary: A surprise visitor to the bullpen leaves Marcus a little more jealous than he would care to admit.

———

Deputy Assistant Director Nathan Gray was a lovely man, 6'4 with dark hair and warm hazel eyes that oozed charisma and charm. You were surprised when he entered the bullpen and settled by your desk.

“Deputy Assistant Director Gray, to what do I owe this honor?” You said with a smile, setting down the paperwork you had been pouring over this morning.

“I've been wanting to talk to you about the undercover work you did on the Christian Laurent case. I was very impressed with your performance.” He said with praise, although you missed the way his eyes raked over your body.

“Thank you, that means a lot. I really enjoyed going undercover, honestly.” You admitted.

“That's why I wanted to talk to you, actually.” Nathan sat on the corner of your desk, a move that did not go unnoticed by Marcus as he tried to watch inconspicuously from his office.

“I think you are very talented and would be an invaluable asset to the White-Collar division. I'd like to offer you a supervisory role to a team focused on fraud and forgeries.” Nathan continued, a warm smile on his face. You were stunned and caught completely off guard.

“I... Wow, that's a wonderful offer. It really is, but I'm really happy here with the Art Crimes team.” You answered. As Nathan looked deep into your eyes you were suddenly uncomfortably aware of how close he was. Marcus watched from his office as Nathan leaned forward and placed his hand on your arm, continuing his job pitch. That was what pushed Marcus over the edge as he found himself leaving his office, grabbing his jacket off the couch on his way out.

You heard Marcus call your name softly as he approached your desk, turning away from Nathan with a smile. There was an odd look on Marcus’ face that you couldn’t quite decipher as he stopped next to where you sat.

“Ready to go grab some lunch?” He said with a smile, though his eyes flicked over to Nathan almost as if sizing him up.

“Ooh yes. I just need a minute to get my stuff. Do you want to get Chinese today?” You said, looking up at Marcus.

“That sounds wonderful.” Marcus said as he put a finger under your chin, lifting it as he leaned down to give you a chaste kiss. You were a little taken aback, though pleasantly surprised, by his kiss. Although the pair of you weren’t actively hiding your relationship from work, especially since you were engaged now, it was very unusual of Marcus to show affection so blatantly in the office around other agents. Nathan looked surprised too as he stood up from his seat on your desk, standing there slightly awkwardly.

“I didn’t know that the two of you were together...” Nathan said, Marcus noticed the subtle look of disappointment on his face that you didn’t catch.

“For a while now.” Marcus said stiffly, and that’s when it finally hit you. Was Marcus Pike jealous? You gave Nathan a smile as you held up your left hand, your engagement ring catching the light.

“We got engaged last week.” You stood up, picking up your purse, and settled yourself at Marcus’ side. His hand was at the small of your back instantly, large and comforting.

“Congratulations.” Nathan gave you both a smile and nod, then turned to you. “Just let me know what you decide and reach out, alright?”

“I doubt I’ll change my mind, but if I do, I’ll give you a call.” You smirked and left the bullpen with Marcus, his hand drifting to your waist as you entered the elevator.

“What brought Deputy Assistant Director Gray by today?” Marcus said, trying to appear nonchalant but you could read him like a book.

“He’s trying to steal me away from you.” You quickly continued at the look of shock on his face, turning to wrap your arms around his neck as the elevator doors shut. “He’s trying to poach me for White Collar. He offered me a position leading a team here in DC, but I told him no. I’m more than happy with my job here. Plus, my boss and I get along really well.”

“Oh... I thought he was... well never mind.” Marcus turned a bit pink. There was a moment of relief that washed over Marcus’ face and then sudden concern. “Wait. A promotion?”

“Yeah, but I’m really not interested.” You said dismissively and then gave him a grin. “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

“Was it that obvious?” Marcus said sheepishly as the two of you untangled from each other when the elevator reached the first floor. You slid your hand into his and headed through the lobby, onto the busy streets of Washington.

“Just a little.” You stopped, stepping close to Marcus until your chests were brushing and cupped his cheek. “You won’t get rid of me that easily Mr. Pike. You’ve got me for the long haul.”

“I love you Mrs. Pike.” Marcus kissed you, slow and passionate.

“I love you too... and I could definitely get used to the sound of that.” You whispered softly against his lips, giving him another kiss.

“Me too.” Marcus pressed one last quick kiss to you lips and began to lead you towards the Chinese takeout restaurant a few blocks away. “So... about that promotion.”

“Nope, I told you I’m not going anywhere.” As you looped your arm with his, he was a bit relieved. Working with you was one of his favorite parts of his job, and you were a highly valuable asset to the team. But a promotion? He didn’t want to hold you back, but he knew how hardheaded you were. Once you made up your mind, he was hard pressed to change it. Maybe it was a conversation for another day.

———-

It surprised you and Marcus both at how much like gossipy teenagers Federal Agents could be. The next morning the news of your engagement quickly spread at the Bureau, heads of other various units swinging by the bullpen with congratulations to you and Marcus. There were more than a few raised eyebrows from higher ups who had been completely oblivious to your relationship, but you were delighted. The accidental freedom he had given the two of you by spilling the beans to Gray was refreshing. You didn't have to police your affection for Marcus around work anymore and it was lovely. You sat on your couch that evening watching a movie and let out a soft hum of contentment, your back pressed against Marcus' chest as his skilled hands worked at the muscles in your shoulders and neck. You laughed lightly at Gene Wilder as his antics unfolded on the TV. You found out recently Marcus hadn't seen most of Mel Brooks' movies and had decided it was a crime that needed to be corrected immediately, tonight's movie was Young Frankenstein.

“Sweetheart... I need to apologize.” Marcus said softly, his hands kneading at the knot in your shoulder.

“For what?” You said, a little surprised.

“For acting so possessive when Gray was flirting with you.” He said sheepishly. You repositioned yourself so you could look into his eyes.

“There is nothing to apologize for.” You smiled and kissed him softly. “It was kind of sweet. You wanted him to know I'm yours, and I am. I'm not going anywhere.” Marcus grinned at that, capturing your lips in another kiss and rested his forehead against yours.

“Speaking of going somewhere... As much as I don't want to lose you, I think you should consider that promotion in White Collar.” He brushed his nose against yours.

“But the team-” You started, you loved them as if they were your own family.

“Would understand, and you can't let us hold you back. This is a great opportunity, if it's something that interests you, you should pursue it.” Marcus insisted.

“... I'll think about it, I promise.” You assured him. “But for now, how about cuddles and more movies?” Kissing him you tucked yourself back against his chest, sighing happily when he wrapped his arms around you.

“Sounds like a perfect night to me.” Marcus pressed a kiss to your temple and settled in for the simple pleasure of a night in with you in his arms.

tagged: @diva-1992, @yespolkadotkitty, @sarahjkl82-blog, @seasonschange-butpeopledont, @mrsparknuts, @disgruntledspacedad, @mrschiltoncat, @giselatropicana, @sugarontherims, @cynic-spirit, @supernaturalgirl, @farfromjustordinary, @buckstaposition

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags.

#meet me at sunrise #marcus pike x ofc #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #narcos #the mandalorian #fanfic #fluff #romance #self insert #reader insert

67 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 5 years ago

Text

NOT YOUR FAIRYTALE - ft. myg

What do you do when you've called your wedding off but forgot to cancel your cake tastings? Why, you ask your brother's grouchy best friend, of course.

pairing. min yoongi. sort of.

genre + rating. fluff-adjacent. general.

warning / tags. mentions of infidelity, cake tasting, cake tasting isn’t a euphemism, fluff and hurt/comfort, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, friendship, friendship/love, childhood friends.

reading. n/a. a stand-alone three part one-shot.

chapter i.

"You want me to what?"

The way he's looking at you makes you want to sink six feet under ground and bury yourself among the roots and bugs. There's so much judgment in the feline turn of his stare, the depths of his irises and the pupils that disappear among the hue. Still, his voice remains decidedly bored. Apathetic, even.

If you were anyone else - hell, if he were anyone else - you think you might've slunk off, proverbial tail tucked between your legs. But you aren't and he isn't, so you repeat yourself, louder this time.

"I want you to come to the cake tasting with me." You're proud of yourself for how the words don't waver, clipping off your tongue and teeth in short bursts. You're even more proud of how you meet his intimidating gaze, chin jutted out in something like defiance but admittedly softer, a little more vulnerable.

His expression is inscrutable, a palette of greys that only further the uncertainty that sinks like a stone in your chest. Every second that passes feels like an eon and you think you might crumble into dust by the time his lips move, though sound is slow to come.

It seems even he's having second thoughts.

"So, you want me to pretend to be your fiancé." A pause, incredulity written into every syllable. "For cake."

When he puts it like that, it feels like nails on a chalkboard or cardboard against cardboard. It raises the little hairs on the back of your neck and has you gritting your teeth, lids sliding over eyes in what can only be called distress. It fits onto your face - curving lips and tensing your jaw all at once. You remind yourself to breathe around the discomfort that lodges into your airway and within your skull.

Why had you thought this was a good idea? Why couldn't you have asked someone else?

Anyone but Min Yoongi.

"Everyone else is busy," you retort, though it's not quite as hard as you mean it to be. It falls like a stone in the ocean - inconsequential. "If you don't want to, just say so. I'll go on my own."

Your own, because you'd called off your engagement months ago and had forgotten to cancel this. Or rather, you'd put it off. You'd put a lot of stuff off. It kind of came with discovering your boyfriend - your knight in shining armour soon-to-be husband - was a philanderer. Still, you'd felt a little silly when you'd gotten the two-week reminder text (and email, because oh, you'd been excited!).

When you'd approached your best friend about it, she'd reacted in her patented Lee Sora way. A derisive snort - for that piece of shit ex of yours - and then a sweeter cloying laugh, insisting you go. After all, you'd booked things on his dime. 'Better to eat your cake, even if you can't have it!' were her words.

Honestly, you'd forgotten about it again - purposely pushed it to the furthest recesses of your mind - until you'd gotten the call the day before. Imagine your surprise when the assistant was chirping all over the phone line, completely oblivious to your stunned silence.

Why did you have to have the memory of something with really bad memory? Your brother wasn't like this.

So here you were, asking his best friend to take some sort of pity on you. It felt worse than tripping during your university graduation. (Because yes, you had done that, nearly face planting in front of hundreds of your peers. Clumsiness ran in the Kim family.) You hated it with every fibre of your being. Not because you had too much pride - god no - but because you'd had to ask him. Yoongi.

On a good day, he was gracious, if not distantly quiet. On a bad day, he could cut you down with just one look.

Frankly, you couldn't tell what kind of day this was.

"You know I'm not making you go alone." The man in question sounds exasperated, though it's barely hidden, an undercurrent of frustration that peeks around the edges of consonants. His expression betrays nothing as he turns back to face the array of monitors, nimble fingers already resuming their previous actions. You feel a pang of guilt - you know how much he hates being bothered when he's working. Namjoon's drilled it into your head since you were old enough to barge in without asking and though they'd taken a lunch break, it still feels a little clandestine.

You ignore the hope that sparks to life in your chest and the way your fingers curl around the door frame. Or, at least, you try to ignore it. You're grateful that his back is to you when you speak. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes." For a moment, you think he might turn by the way his shoulders shift, hands stilling. But then he thinks better of it and slides his headphones over his mop of carefully styled smoke - a clear indication the conversation is over.

Before his right ear is fully covered, you're rushing to speak. "It's at 3:30! I'll come grab you before we have to leave!" And then you're gone.

You'd thought it would be easier with someone else. Appearances and all that.

But as you're walking up to the pretty storefront - all unassuming whites to showcase the brilliant confections in the window - you somehow feel even more nervous. What if they knew? What if they could tell you two were polar opposites and you'd come to swindle them out of their painstakingly crafted cakes? Would they tell you to get out? Would they not say anything, even if they knew?

Scenarios play in your mind like the climax of a Bond film and you don't even realize you're hovering five feet away until his voice cuts through your thoughts - a hot knife through butter.

"What're you waiting for?" There's that irritation again. You try not to take it personally. This was just who Yoongi was - had always been. He was someone who didn’t suffer fools gladly, no matter how they presented themselves. You know it isn’t directed at you necessarily, but just at the strange situation he now found himself in. You tell yourself that over and over as you find your words, plastering what you hope to be a genuine smile on your face.

By the way he looks at you, lips curled around disbelief, you know it's a poor effort. You were bad at hiding your emotions. It was like Namjoon had stolen all the emotional maturity, leaving you with wide-open eyes and a face like a billboard.

"What if they know?" You say it in a voice barely above a whisper, as if they might hear you through the intimidating glass door.

"Know what?" A brow quirks, disappearing into his fringe.

"That we aren't together!" The words explode out of you, a firecracker set off too close to curious hands. Your mouth draws into a thin line of apology and you're twisting a section of hair around your index finger. It's a nervous habit and he catches it immediately.

His expression softens, just barely, and he sighs, breath blown through his nose. "It'll be fine." The confidence he reassures you with is surprising but somehow, it calms you. Maybe it's the two decades of friendship rearing its pretty, often neglected head. Whatever it is, you cling to it like a security blanket, eyes the size of dinner plates as you follow the hand that suddenly rises and inches toward you.

"What're you doing?" You speak before you can help it, admiring the softness of his skin and the long fingers built from years of piano.

Rather than speak, he grips your own. It's loose but your knuckles knock together, palms flat and moulded into one. "You want it to be believable, don't you?" Despite the bemused inflection, you appreciate his gesture. It means a lot to you.

You squeeze his hand, nodding once. "Thanks, Yoongi." It's soft and shy, filled with all the things you don't say. He reads between the lines easily, years of platonic intimacy guiding him into what could almost be described as a smile but falls just short of revealing his gums. Still, it's as good as having him shout his understanding from the rooftops so you take it with grace, dutifully following after him when he pries open the door.

The smell is intoxicating. If your life were a cartoon movie, you're sure you'd be following the smell and floating into the kitchen with hearts in your eyes.

"You must be the soon-to-be Rims!"

She's a pretty young thing with big doll eyes and a sweetly upturned nose. You recognize her voice immediately as the girl that had confirmed your appointment. She oozes honey and kindness and you can't help but smile; she's sweet as apple pie. How fitting.

So swept up in her sunny greeting, you belatedly notice the way your not-fiancé stiffens at your side, his interlocked fingers tightening imperceptibly. There's a tick in his jaw, tension running the length of his bones and steeling around the column of his neck. For a second, you're tempted to reach out with your free hand, smooth whatever consternation has him grimacing, but in the next moment, he's a blank slate. His chin dips, nods in affirmation because you've been too caught up in him to answer the poor girl.

"That's us." He hides it well, but you can still see the flicker of annoyance just beyond the flat of his barely realized smile. It's the same ebb and flow that you've become familiar with over the years. (Especially since, during a particularly annoying time during your teens, you'd been the reason for it.)

"So nice to meet you finally. I'm Siyeon." It seems the assistant is completely oblivious to whatever displeasure lies beneath the surface of Yoongi’s carefully crafted facade, her beaming smile never faltering. You can even hear it in her voice when she turns and begins leading you past the front pastry case and toward the open space further back. "Come this way! We have everything set up."

You squeeze his hand again when the whites of his eyes grow prominent by the way they roll in their sockets. "Be nice," you chastise quietly, closing the distance just enough to keep the conversation between the two of you.

"I am nice." When your gaze meets, you're mirroring each other's expression. It makes you laugh; he simply shakes his head.

"You two are so sweet," comes Siyeon's meant-to-be kind observation. She's watching you two closely from the head of the long table where she waits. There are slices of cake laid across the top, three pieces in total. Place cards sit neatly behind each plate, another three placed off to the side. There are two forks, two pens, and a bare white notepad. "Please, take a seat. Would you like some champagne?"

"Please!" You've answered before your companion has had a chance to and he levels you with a quirked brow and nothing else. You note the way Siyeon disappears with your answer, leaving you to stick your tongue out at him. "What?"

"Take it easy, party animal," he drawls, nonchalant as ever as he turns his attention to the offerings laid before him.

You know he's just teasing, so you say nothing, instead opting to do the same. Every slice is perfectly cut - a generous portion for two people - and so lovingly crafted that you almost feel bad thinking you'll never get to try it again.

"Here you go."

Two champagne flutes are presented, ice bucket with the orange label bottle set aside. You take a tentative sip, enjoying the way the liquid bursts across your tongue. You'd always been more of a beer girl, but this is nice. It feels a little like a treat to yourself - for getting through everything that's brought you here.

"So, we're pretty hands-off here." Siyeon is speaking again, the words rolling off her tongue like she's given this spiel a hundred times. You're sure she has. She's so confident, rattling off the process with practiced ease. You focus intently, grateful for the way Yoongi even leans forward - the picture of an attentive partner. "We've prepared six cakes for you. You'll taste them in groups of three, so your palate isn't overwhelmed. We leave you alone during this portion so you can discuss without any pressure or input and you can make notes on what you do and don't like. Once you're done all of the samples, you'll meet with one of our pâtissiers and discuss." There's a pause, then realization. “You also mentioned on the phone you wanted us to include a red velvet option, so that’s on the far right.” A hand gesticulates, though it’s impossible to miss. The cake is vivid maroon and off-white – a picture perfect slice presented on the minimalistic ceramic.

You don’t miss the way Yoongi’s brow knits together beneath his neatly styled crown of silk or the stare he levels you with. He doesn’t betray emotion easily, but you can feel it from your periphery, and it licks hot shame across your cheeks. You hated red velvet – called it bullshitter’s chocolate – but your stupid awful ex-fiancé had loved it, claiming it to be one of his favourite things in the world.

More than even you, you find yourself thinking bitterly before you can help it.

“Thanks.” The word is short and dismissive. Very clearly the complete opposite of how it should be but if Siyeon notices, she doesn’t comment on it. You have to applaud her self-restraint. Instead, she offers another winning smile, and retreats back a step.

“I’ll just be at the front, if you need anything.”

A part of you wants to ask to her to stay – save you from the scathing words you know are about to fire off of your pretend-partner’s tongue. You settle for returning her smile and watching as she departs, gaze trained diligently on her back as if that might protect you from the verbal barrage you know is coming.

“You hate red velvet.” It’s a statement that has you cringing because you can hear all of the implications behind it. The words he doesn’t speak but clearly thinks linger in the air between you, falling like rain drops that sink into your bones.

You don’t immediately answer, taking your time in turning your fork over in your fingers. You know this silent treatment won’t work. Yoongi’s the master of silence – and of death glares – but you push onwards, gliding tines into the nearest cake slice. It doesn’t crumble or break, held together by pure craftsmanship and quality ingredients. The pretty not-quite-purple, not-quite-red winks up at you.

Honey wine Moscato with triple berry mousse and seasonal berry compote.

A definite yes in your books. Or would be, if you were actually getting married. You take another bite, then another.

“Why the hell would you have asked for a red velvet wedding cake if you hate it?” He’s not about to let it go, though he follows suit once the question has left his lips. He’s also not about to let you leave him with crumbs when he was the one who’d been forced into coming here.

The way his jaw relaxes has you smiling just a little, an expectant gleam in the brown of your irises.

“Tasty, right?”

“Yeah, good.” But now that you’ve spoken – confirmed that you’re not mute, despite how quiet you’ve been since he’d poised his initial question – he repeats himself. “Seriously, why ask for a cake you hate?”

You know you have no reason to hold the words so tightly to your chest but you do nonetheless, not quite sure how to speak them without your voice cracking. “Red velvet was his favourite.” There. You’d thought the admission would be a weight lifted but it feels somehow worse. Like there’s shame draped across the concession, a heavy brocade that lingers in your throat once the words have left.

“You were going to have a wedding cake you’d hate? Because of him?”

It’s exactly what you’d been afraid of. The judgment that rolls off him in waves and crashes against you like a shore at hightide. Your eyes remain steadfastly trained on the next slice – almond cake soaked in Grand Marnier with honey-cream and Mariska cherries. Crimson fruit is speared on an individual tine and popped into your mouth as you continue your vow of silence.

You think the quiet is enough of an answer but when he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, you finally look up. Whatever words of defence had been forming on your tongue die off, dragged into an abyss that opens up beneath your feet – a surprise, because you’ve never seen that look on his face before.

It’s equal parts frustration and something else but because it’s so new, you can’t quite place it in your catalog of memories.

He must realize, immediately rearranging his features into their usual stoic mask. Just the tilt of his mouth betrays him, corners turned down ever so slightly. It’s enough to know that he’s holding back, which is something he never does. Ever.

“Spit it out, Yoongi.” You don’t look at him, too afraid that both his words and stare will completely eviscerate you now that he has the go ahead. You fork a proper mouthful of cake past your lips, humming contentedly as the flavours spill over your tongue. You hadn’t expected it to taste like a creamsicle – okay, a very adult creamsicle – but it’s welcome, nonetheless.

Fork of his own spears a sizeable bite and you watch as the slice disappears before your eyes, under both of your measured ministrations. The red velvet plate sits untouched. You know Yoongi doesn’t mind it – enjoys it, in fact – but you think he must be refraining for your sake.

Solidarity in crisis, probably.

“You know you’re better off without him.”

Of course you know that. He’d cheated on you – in your home and more than once! You knew, just as you knew how to ride a bike or how to swim, that ending things was the best thing you’d ever done. Sure, it’d hurt like hell and sure, you’d had to move in with your brother until you found something else – you hadn’t yet – but it was all for the best.

So why can’t you say those three simple words? Why, instead of your usual barking hyena laugh meeting his words, was there nothing?

“How are the cakes?” Siyeon has materialized at your side as if summoned. The still intact slice draws her attention immediately, concern settling alongside the winning customer service that oozes out of her pores and fixes itself into her permanent smile. “Did you not like the red velvet?”

Before you have a chance to speak, Yoongi’s doing so for the both of you.

“She hates red velvet. She only asked for it for me.” There’s a shrug disrupting the ridge of his shoulders, shifting the soft cotton plaid that hugs his lithe frame. “Could you bring out the rest?” His tone is friendly, gentle even. It's at complete odds with the line of his mouth, terse and teetering dangerously on irate. Still, he's not unkind when his gaze meets Siyeon's and she simply nods, gathering up the plates and taking the disregarded slice in stride.

Silence stretches between the two of you but it isn't uncomfortable. It's the same quiet that's followed you throughout your lives, carried gracefully by years of close quarters.

"Which do you like best?" He breaks it first, with a gentle hand like a delicate sculptor.

"Is both an acceptable answer?"

There's a rueful tilt to your smile. It feels very you to him, so he knows it's okay to rib you, teasing colouring every syllable. "Two cakes, huh? Pretty greedy."

Whatever you're about to say falls off your tongue yet again, forgotten on the tip with the return of Siyeon.

With the same sunny smile she's adopted the entire visit, she sets the next three selections carefully before you. Just as before, they're beautifully crafted and effortlessly chic. You spy what looks like carrot cake - from the telltale chunks of golden raisins and fluffy whipped frosting - but you're not sure which the rest are.

"Their cards are right there," Siyeon supplies helpfully, noting your curiosity. You smile, grateful as she departs with another grin and a reminder. "Don't forget to take notes!"

Vanilla cake soaked in mandarin syrup and kumquat liqueur with mandarin vinegar from Jeju Island and mandarin curd.

Dark chocolate mud cake soaked in espresso with white chocolate and black truffle ganache.

You opt to start with what appears to the airiest of the three, gliding your fork through the pretty mosaic of orange and cream.

“You deserve someone who’d let you have any cake you want.” It’s soft - barely above a whisper - but kicks up gravel in its wake, drawing your attention with the grit that tracks over syllables.

You study him for a moment, masking curiosity as consideration of flavours as citrus bursts across your tongue.

“You mean someone like you?” What you’d thought to be deadpan comes across coaxing, like honey swathed in broad strokes. You’d only meant to tease - you don’t mean anything by it (or so you tell yourself). Because you’re definitely not there yet, and certainly not with him.

But when he looks at you with that inscrutable expression, you swear you’d give up any three magic wishes to read his mind.

“No, not like me.”

notes. based off of this prompt.

this will be two parts because i can’t write a short one-shot to my satisfaction. :l thank you for reading, though!

652 notes · View notes

babylooneytoonz · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Your first meeting with Sergeant Barnes wasn't exactly charming, hell, it was a disaster. And the only adjectives that came to your mind when you thought about him were words like prick, bastard and a jackass. He made your life hell, and you lived to make sure you made him suffer. And neither of you realized, how your sole mission of tormenting each other became the most important part of your life.

Warnings: Bucky Barnes continues to be an ass // Reader has finally has it // War declared

Coffee Stains - Masterlist

Coffee Stains

Your anger still lingered inside of you like a deep rooted worm, even after you had stepped into the warm soothing shower, after your encounter with whoever the fuck that man was. You were still annoyed, and you were sure as hell worried that your mood might end up affecting your performance at the training today. You stood in your room, the pads of your feet nestled onto the feathery carpet that adorned the floor of your apartment, semi dressed when you heard Friday.

"Miss Y/N, Captain is here, waiting for you."

You frowned, wondering if it was already 7 and somehow, you had lost the track of time, but you noted that it was still 6: 40 pm by the clock.

"Thank you, Friday," that was the fastest you had ever gotten into your yoga pants, pulling it over your round bum, the elastic strap stinging against your soft fleshy belly as it hit it with a slap. The towel still rolled over your hair, you ran up to the door and flung it open, only to see Steve standing there with two people you didn't know of and who were probably newbies like you.

"Y/N, how are you holding up?" Steve asked in soft voice, and somehow you found your previous anger slowly melting away.

"Great, Steve. I thought I'm late on my first day," your lips now crept upwards in a grin, and Steve just shook his head, his hand flying to the back of his head as he ran his fingers through his blond locks.

"I thought I'd introduce you to the two of them, they were the only ones I could find lurking in the recreation room, so I dragged them here."

"No, you did not, I was the one that insisted I wanted to meet the newbie," the dark haired girl just winked playfully in your direction, and you couldn't help but snort at her words when you saw Steve's face turn crimson like a cherry.

"I'm Wanda, well, people around here might call me stuff like the Sokovian witch and all that, but when they're saying that, consider it is me they're talking about." The woman threw out her hand towards you, her hand extended in a shake, and you took her hand, feeling a comfortable warmth radiating from her. Wanda then turned towards the one to her right, and smiled, "Well this one doesn't talk much, but you'll like him."

"Hello Miss Y/N, my name is Vision, and I have taken it upon myself to welcome you to our team."

"Thank you Vision, it's my pleasure." You shook his hand; the little meet and greet causing you to temporarily forget about the man; the stranger you had met in the kitchen a few minutes back.

Steve's thick voice reaching your ears caused you to turn towards him, and you saw him looking at the trio of you with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it– " He took a step away, his front turned towards you, but his steps moving backwards until he was now a good distance away, " Y/N, I will expect you to be at the training room in ten minutes." With that, his heavy footsteps retreated away, until you couldn't hear him anymore, and you were left standing with Wanda and Vision, on your doorstep.

"Around here, punctuality is the key. And in general," Vision began.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Vision and Wanda lingered around in your apartment for the next ten minutes along with you, talking to you about the life at the Avengers Towers and how you got used to it once you had started adjusting.

"After a while, it feels like you are living with your roommates, except the fact that they all are superheroes," Wanda chuckled, as she watched you place your glasses away and pull out your contact lenses and fix them into your eyes.

Exactly nine minutes later, you left your apartment, and slowly started making you way towards the training room with your newly found friends, who you realized just couldn't stop bantering and talking amongst themselves; and it was cute, not in a way you felt left out. The three of you made your way to the fourth floor, and towards the training room when Wanda and Vision finally parted ways with you as it was time for their own training as well, leaving you alone.

It wasn't long before you reached the training room, but before you could step in, you heard muffled voices from the inside, until you strained your ears a little and an automatically induced frown found its way to your forehead.

"What's gotten you so grumpy today, Buck?"

Steve.

The other voice that replied wasn't one of the voices you really wished to hear again.

"What's with Stark hiring all the weirdos found in NYC? I can't believe my best tshirt got ruined."

"Come on Buck, it was a tshirt. And besides, I'm sure it was an accident."

"Who the hell cares what it was, if I was Stark, I would have fired her lousy ass right away."

"Buck, language."

You couldn't believe this piece of shit was still stuck over what had happened that afternoon. You couldn't say you had forgotten about it, but atleast you were acting all grown up and weren't bitching about it to anyone. And here he was, bitching around with none other than your mentor. This day was getting worse and worse, and you internally begged to call it a day and disappear into your apartment so you could peacefully spend your night curled in that soft, mushy pillows and the silken sheets.

You cleared your throat, intentionally, so you could announce your presence and as if on cue, Bucky's head snapped in your direction and his scowl widened, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"You again? The hell you following me around for? If you're here to apologize– "

Steve's eyes widened when he sensed the tension slowly rising in the room and it wasn't like he was daft. Having put the two and two together, he understood now that the person responsible for putting Bucky in this foul mood had been you, well not intentionally.

"Buck, easy. She is our newest recruit. Thank you for being on time, Agent."

Bucky took a double take, his eyes raking over you, in a very obvious way; and not in a sexual kind of a way but in a way to believe that he was truly shocked. This annoyed you even more and your fingers clenched against your sides.

"You got to be kidding me, punk. She can't even walk straight while holding a darn mug of coffee."

That's it, you had it with him taking continuous digs at you.

"You know, you deserved it. And now I wish it wasn't just coffee but something way worse. Probably horse piss," you literally spat and if it wasn't for Steve who had now fixed himself in front of you, blocking the two of you from slamming anything you could lay your hands on, into each other's faces, things would have gotten messy in the training room within seconds.

"Bucky–" he warned, his palm outstretched towards him, glaring at him, "we have to train now."

He then turned towards you, his expression reflecting a bit of disappointment in his orbs, "Y/N, I expect atleast one of you to be sensible, and if not, then cordial, he is a senior in here."

It suddenly clicked in the back of your head. You had watched the coverage of the Battle of Triskelion on TV. So, this was him, that ass, Winter Soldier. Of course, this man had issues, like really serious ones. But that didn't excuse the way he was behaving with you. But also, you knew that Steve was right. There was no point in engaging with him, so you decided to just be cordial, if it meant not having to deal with his shit anymore.

"Fine." You grumbled, almost under your breath.

Running your hand through your short shoulder length (Y/H/C) hair, you finally walked up to where Steve was standing, already in the Captain America mode now.

"Today, we'll test your hand to hand combat skills," you heard him say and you nodded your head, zoning out all the unwanted presences in the training room, although you could feel Bucky's piercing gaze on you. You knew he wanted to watch you fail, and falter but you weren't going to give him a chance.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Sweat drenched down your face, dripping off your neck, as you shifted the weight of your body and threw out your fisted palm towards your mentor, with a sudden looping overhand, but Steve managed to block your punch, his own aim now towards your nose. Your reflexes had kicked in, causing you to duck at the right time and block his punch, at the same time managing to knock him off his feet with your foot thrown out.

Captain America was hard to beat, but so were you.

The distance had once again taken its place in front of the two of you, and the two of you were ready for another round, and you were glancing at your opponent, analyzing what he was thinking, what his next moves were. He was subdued, the weight of his body shifted to his left, his eyes narrowed at you, probably ready to attack, but you couldn't be sure; maybe he wanted you to attack first, and then he would counter you.

Suddenly, he lunged at you, his fists aimed in an attack and you had been wrong there, to study his body language, and even worse, when you let yourself get distracted when you heard a low, meenacing and annoying voice reach out to you, "Agent.. are you sure you can see Steve, because you don't seem to have your glasses on. Not that you know where to go even with them on."

Your eyes flew to him in disbelief and your mouth curved into a perfect O, making you lose your fighting stance, and your guard. Steve was already fast, and when he heard Bucky's taunt, he tried to shoot him a sharp glare for distracting you, but he couldn't stop himself, he was so in momentum, his heavy palm cracked against your abs, throwing you away, down on the mat with a force you didn't think was possible.

Steve threw his hands in the air, as he rushed over to you, kneeling down beside you, to check if you were alright, but you gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded, sitting upright, shooting Bucky a glare.

"I didn't know they taught you these cheap tactics of distracting people back at the army, Sergeant."

Bucky smiled, leaning forward slightly, so his elbows were resting against his knees, his lips stretched into what looked like an evil smirk.

"Weak people always find excuses, one way or the other. You let yourself get distracted."

He stood up, with slow steps, walking over towards you. By that time, you had lifted yourself off the mat, and your hands had flown to your hips, your neck held upright. Bucky stepped onto the mat, moving in front of Steve, who had opened his mouth in protest, but hadn't yet said anything, until Bucky was in your face, giving you a stare down.

"This is the real deal. I don't know where you came from or what you did. But this is the real deal. There will be real enemies, and they will do everything on their part to distract you. There is no room for weakness here."

Suddenly, a feeling of dread washed over you, it wasn't exactly dread, but it was something else all together, like a sudden burst of adrenaline , perhaps provoked by his words, but also because of his close proximity. You hadn't realized till that moment, and perhaps, neither had he, but he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your face which caused your eyes to involuntarily fall over his lips for a second, and then back up, until you caught him smirking down at you, probably basking in his little mountain of victory.

You only thanked Steve inwardly, when he suddenly stepped in, breaking whatever this moment was, when he grabbed Bucky's palm and pulled him away from you, his eyes now on him, a look passing between the two of them that you couldn't decipher. Maybe it was a best friend thing between them, something only the two of them knew of.

"Buck, that's enough, she was good, and you know she was."

"I agree."

When a foreign voice sounded in the room, the three heads involuntarily snapped in that direction, only to find Sam Wilson leaning against the door, a half eaten apple in his hand, and his mouth moving as he was chewing on it.

"What?" He shrugged, his voice sounding unclear as his mouth was completely stuffed, "that was the Captain that she just fought. And I am impressed."

Your expressions softened, and a smile broke out on your lips and you nodded towards Sam, who nodded back with his eyes twinkling at you.

Bucky shrugged and finally, he let his shoulders relax, and shot you a quick look, "I don't think so. I think you just went soft on her."

You scoffed in disbelief, biting your lower lip to bite back from barking back at him and moved away from the mat to grab a chilled bottle of water that lay on a table. Your fingers worked on the bottle and at the same time, your eyes remained on Bucky, and Sam who had now joined the two of the super soldiers. You could see that Steve was trying to knock some sense into Bucky, tell him how he was just overdoing it, but Bucky just deadpanned, his glare fixed on you until he again took a dig at you, and this time you couldn't take it.

"Did it hurt? That blow to your –" He pointed his index finger towards his abs, that cocky smirk still draped over his lips, "Now maybe that's payback, for almost burning me a few hours back."

His words caused you to almost tighten your grip on the bottle, the grip so hard, the plastic of the bottle almost shrank. You took a deep breath, taking one step towards him, slowly, before your pace rose, and you were striding towards him, your eyes brewing with anger. The bottle was still in your hand, the cap laying abandoned on the table, so when you were sure you were at a close proximity from him, you tipped the bottle, letting the cold water drain through his tshirt, right on his abs, drenching him completely.

"There you go, I think it won't burn now, I feel I should have done that hours back, atleast you wouldn't be crying about it till now."

Steve closed his eyes, his palm flying to his face as he swiped his hand over his face. He knew that things were going to get murky now, and things had gotten out of hand, which is why his grip on Bucky's arm tightened. Bucky was seething, partly in rage, and partly due to a sudden flush of what he could only name as embarrassment, while Sam was openly smirking at what he had just witnessed.

A woman had managed to shut the Winter Soldier up, and how, with cold water right on his burns.

Today was a good day.

(Feedback is appreciated. 💗)

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

@thepeakygurl

@all-art-is-quite-useless

@baumarvel

@really-dont-forget-it

Want to be added to any of my taglists? Please fill out the form on this link. 💗

#james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction

88 notes · View notes

bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 7

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/631916582484017152/odins-ward-chapter-6

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Word count: 3232

Warnings: Adult themes implied

Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24

Y/n’s POV

It’s been three weeks since Loki took me to the meadow. We have not yet been able to return, but the flowers in my room don’t die. In fact, they never even seem to wilt. This only solidifies my theory that Loki created the meadow for just the two of us. That means something significant, I’m sure of it. Since that time, I can tell our relationship has shifted. I believe that if I was not already promised a husband from my father, Loki might be interested in courting me.

It wouldn’t do though. Father has plans for me in Alfheim, and Odin has plans for Loki here. The knowledge that we can’t be together in the long-term makes me sad, but being around Loki tends to make that sadness go away. I just enjoy the time we have together and try not to think about the fact that, now that I am of age, I could be called to Alfheim at any moment.

A knock pulls me from my thoughts, and I smile to myself. That’ll be Loki, ready to take me to dinner.

It is to my great surprise, then, to find Thor waiting for me on the other side of my threshold.

He beams. “Lady Y/n, would you allow me to escort you to dinner?”

I blink. After an awkward silence, Thor offers me his arm as a reminder. “Oh. Yes, of course, Your Highness. Forgive me, it’s just that I was expecting—”

“Loki, I know. He escorts you to dinner every evening.” Thor’s voice is different now, a little…harder. I take his arm and allow him to begin the walk to the dining hall. “Lady Y/n,” he lowers his voice so I have to work to hear him. “I know that you and my brother are…close. But you both need to be more careful. It is not my business how either of you spends your nights, but I cannot help but notice how conspicuously the two of you are behaving.”

I swallow, nerves buzzing. We’re not even…. I try for some damage control. “Your Highness, I—”

Thor puts up a hand to stop my words, and I fall silent. “It is not my business, Lady Y/n. I am simply warning you as your friend. I do not wish to see your reputation tarnished, as I have come to care for you as a brother would care for his sister.”

Too many reactions run through my head, so I go with the one that is the most polite. “Thank you, Your Highness, truly. I appreciate your counsel.”

Thor nods, a kind smile on his face. “I wish the best for you, Lady Y/n.”

Despite my shock at this conversation, I try to return the smile, because he really does mean well. “And I, you.”

We enter the dining hall then. Thor walks me to my seat before walking to his spot at the other end of the table. Frigga sits next to Thor, Odin in the middle, there is a space where Loki should be, and then there’s me at the end. I stare at the table, not wishing to engage in conversation. Not that Odin would speak with me, anyway. Dinner begins without Loki. I pick at my food, not really in the mood to eat. If Thor noticed my and Loki’s…attachment…then maybe we really are being too conspicuous. Which is silly, because there’s nothing going on to even be conspicuous about!

With the creak of a door, Loki enters the dining hall. The tense frustration on his face breaks into relief when he meets my eyes. He takes his seat, first apologizing to his parents for being late, then turning to me.

“You did not wait for me.” There’s hurt in his voice that he tries hard to mask with indifference.

I immediately feel guilty for hurting him, even unintentionally. “I would have,” I murmur, still looking at my plate. “But Thor escorted me to dinner because he feels that we…well, that we are romantically involved and are quite obvious about it.” Despite my embarrassment at this topic, I look up so I can gauge his reaction.

It’s angry. He clenches his jaw and his voice is tight when he speaks. “That is none of his concern—”

I hurry to his brother’s defense. “He spoke out of friendship, Loki. We can’t blame him for—”

“Even if he was speaking with kindness as his motivation, he should have come to me rather than to you. You shouldn’t have to deal with—”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to deal with this, either! Besides, it’s not like we—”

Odin stands so quickly his chair screeches, effectively silencing everyone in the hall. The King utters two simple words, but the effects are immediate: “Frost Giants.”

The room erupts into chaos. People react mainly by screaming. Some draw weapons, some seem plastered to their seats, some make a break for the exits.

Thor stands, Mjolnir at the ready. Loki kicks into action as well, hastily taking hold of me and his mother. Our world goes black.

We reappear in what looks like Frigga’s chambers. Nausea hits me, but I try to ignore it and focus instead on the situation at hand. Because from what I can gather, Asgard is under attack.

Loki runs to the door and pulls two sentries into the room. “Guard them with your lives,” he orders, darkness in his voice. Finally, he turns to us. “I will come for you when it is safe. Stay hidden.”

Frigga nods gracefully from her spot in the middle of the room. Her shoulders are pulled taut, and I can tell she is worried for her son. I feel the same.

“Hey.” My voice is tighter than I want it to be, probably due to the terror currently working a hole in my chest. “Be careful.”

Loki’s eyes lock with mine, and I can see the fear and determination in them. No sparkle like there usually is. He swallows, nods once, and disappears.

Neither Frigga nor I speak.

From the far ends of the castle, I can hear the grunts and screams of people as they fight. I’ve never seen a Frost Giant, nor do I know what one sounds like, but I pray that what I hear is the sound of them dying rather than the Asgardians. Through many tense minutes of waiting, the sounds of battle get closer to Frigga’s room. By her body language, she knows we’ll soon be in imminent danger.

There’s a crash outside the door, and I jolt into action. I reach under my dress and pull my dagger from its home in the garter attached to my thigh. Frigga eyes me quizzically.

“I know I’m probably not supposed to have this. But…I do.” Given the situation, I’m not exactly sure what to say. For all I know, this is going to be my last conversation.

A tight yet somehow still kind smile briefly crosses Frigga’s face. “Worry not, dear Y/n. It is important everyone know how to protect themselves. I would have taught you myself had I not suspected my son was already doing so.”

I do my best to smile back as the clamoring gets nearer. A sparkle—the same sparkle I’ve seen in Loki’s eyes—enters Frigga’s as she reaches behind her back and unsheathes two long knives previously concealed by her cascading hair.

All I can say is: “woah.”

From our position in the middle of the room, we wait.

I’m hypersensitive to the sounds outside the door. The clashing has gotten louder, and I hear the sound of metal scraping against metal. The guards inside the room tense, ready for battle.

The door slams open.

Before I can react, Odin enters the room, surrounded by his guards. Frigga lets out a breath of relief and bypasses the guards to hug her husband. She exudes relief.

I exhale as well, lowering my dagger to let it hang by my side. I close my eyes, finally able to relax now that I’m not contemplating my death.

Absently, I register Odin’s words to Frigga. “It seems….” There’s pain in Odin’s voice, and my ears perk up. Has something happened? Is Asgard in trouble? “Loki has been gravely injured. We must go to his side at once…he is not expected to live much longer.”

My head snaps up. Without warning, the only sound I can hear is my jarringly loud breathing. I can’t blink. I can’t move. I can’t even react. I’m just…frozen.

Frigga lifts a shaking hand to cover her mouth. Then, she lets out a shriek of anguish that pierces through the silence and collapses into Odin’s arms. His face is drawn, his sadness is apparent, but he’s obviously trying to be strong.

“My love, we must go find our son.”

Frigga nods dimly, tears falling down her cheeks as she allows herself to be pulled to the door. On his way out, Odin’s eye catches mine, and he gestures to a guard. “Take her to her chambers and make sure she stays there. The castle is not yet secure.”

The guard obediently does as Odin orders. I don’t feel his hand on my arm, nor do I remember walking to my room, though we must have, because next thing I know, I’m sitting on my bed. The guard leaves me alone and I just sit. My body feels numb. Is that normal? I don’t know how much time passes, only that it’s enough for terrifying thoughts to run through my mind. Has Loki died yet? Or is he in agony, waiting to die? The image of Loki in pain, fatally injured, breaks me out of my shock, and I begin to shake with tears. I can’t stop crying. I sob until I nearly make myself sick. And once I’m out of tears, I fall to the floor in the midst of dry heaves and curl into a ball. Once again, my mind attacks me with unwelcome images of Loki lying on the ground, bloodied and waiting for death.

I should’ve been there.

Gods! I should have been there!

I grip at the rug in an attempt to bring myself some comfort, but the fabric offers nothing but scratches. Everything just…hurts. So badly. Imagining my life without my friend brings a deep pain that I never want to feel again.

“Y/n.” I hear a quiet voice from across the room and my head snaps to find the source.

He’s there.

Loki is right there, standing just a few feet away from me. We stare at each other, neither of us moving.

A leftover sob escapes me, and that seems to snap Loki out of whatever trance he was experiencing.

“Oh, Y/n.” Heartache thickens his voice and he hurries to join me on the floor, pulling me protectively into his arms. I cling to him and begin to cry once more.

“Your father, he said—he said—” I can’t even finish my sentence. I grip Loki’s shirt instead and cry into his shoulder.

“I know. I—I didn’t think he would tell you, I was just trying…” He trails off, seeming as lost for words as I am as he rubs my back soothingly.

I take deep breaths and work on calming myself down. It’s okay, it’s alright. He’s here now, safe with you. Loki produces a handkerchief and helps me dry my tears.

“It was just a trick.” His voice is quiet as he holds me. “I faced a particularly nasty situation and determined the best solution would be to cast a double to make the Frost Giant think he had bested me while I was secretly waiting to kill him. Well, after I had done so, more Frost Giants entered the fray and I was so occupied with fighting them that I completely forgot to dispose of my severely wounded double. When my father saw it, he assumed the worst and immediately told my mother…and you, it seems. Y/n, I am so, so sorry.” His voice breaks mid-apology.

I pull back so I can look into his eyes. The eyes that I thought had been taken away from me too soon.

Screw it.

I push myself so I’m sitting up in his lap and press my lips to his.

He makes a strangled noise of shock before tightening his arms around my waist and kissing me back. The kiss is hard and desperate, each of us pulling at the other to get them as close as possible. My hands find the ties of his armor and begin to tug them loose. Loki pulls back and stops my progress with his clothing.

“Y/n, we can’t. Your reputation—”

I look him straight in the eyes, absolutely sure of my decision. “Everyone here already thinks we do this. In their minds, my reputation is ruined. So why not make what they’re saying true?”

He swallows, seeing my logic. Then he shakes his head, thinking of another argument. “Yes, but what about your prospects on Alfheim? If your father finds out about this—or any potential suitors do—you’ll be shunned! I—I can’t do that to you.”

“Loki.” I take his face into my hands, holding his eyes on mine. “No one in Alfheim will know of what I do in Asgard. There are so few ways of communication. I promise that everything will be okay. I want you, Loki.” His eyes flutter closed, and I place a kiss on each of them. “If you want me too…then I’m yours.”

He opens his eyes, happiness and adoration shining through. He pulls my hand from his cheek and kisses my palm without looking from my eyes. Then, he stands, pulling me with him, and kisses me again, much softer this time. He places his hands on my hips and gently guides me onto the bed.

{***}

I wake to feather-light kisses on my neck. It tickles, and I can’t help but let out sleepy giggles. Opening my eyes, I find Loki staring right at me with my favorite mischievous smile on his face.

“Hello.”

A slow, lazy smile spreads across my own face. “Hi.”

He pulls one of my hands from its grip on the blanket to hold it in his. He kisses my palm lightly, one of my new favorite behaviors of his. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah sure,” my grin broadens. “Sleep.”

He laughs, pulling me and rolling over so I’m resting on top of him. “Well, I know you enjoyed that.” He winks cheekily and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

I roll my eyes but lean down to kiss him despite his cockiness. Too soon, he groans and pulls away. “I have to go. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left so you didn’t think I abandoned you or anything.”

I rest my chin on his chest, just enjoying looking into his eyes. “That’s kind of you.”

He rolls us again so I lie underneath him, but he thankfully keeps most of his weight on his elbows. “I will see you tonight to escort you to dinner.” His face darkens. “Unless my idiot brother beats me to it.”

I chuckle. “His intentions are kind. Besides, your brother—”

Loki stops me with a groan. “Okay, never mind. This is the last moment I want to be thinking of my brother.

I throw my head back in laughter, and he takes the opportunity to kiss my neck once more. My laughter falls silent.

“There.” He brings his head up with a satisfied smirk. “That takes care of that.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no true annoyance in me. Right now, I feel perfectly content.

“Alright, I really must go.” There’s regret in his voice, and I do my best to ease that.

“Thank you for staying the night.”

Surprise colors his features, and he regards me with slight bewilderment. “Of course. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.” The honesty in his voice is apparent. He kisses me once more before standing up, dressing magically, and teleporting out of the room.

Once I’m alone, I grin stupidly and smush my face in the pillow. So that just happened.

Too soon, my maid, Dagmar, enters, curtsies, and gets to work. She doesn’t comment on my lack of clothing or the state of the bedsheets. It’s clear what I have done, but since I’m in the room alone, Dagmar can only speculate. She quietly goes about her job, and soon I am ready for the day.

Breakfast and lunch pass normally. I do my best to pretend as if I enjoy the company of the other ladies at Court, but only about three of them are truly tolerable. Lady Sif invites me to take a walk with her, and I consider telling her about my night with Loki. I stop myself just in time. People suspecting is one thing. People knowing is another. Instead, we discuss battle strategies and she regales me with stories of her latest adventures with Thor and the Warriors Three. I’ve barely made it back to my room when there’s a knock on my door.

“Come in.”

The clink of metal alerts me to the fact that I do not have one of my usual visitors.

“Lady Y/n, the King requires your presence in the throne room. I am to escort you there.”

A rod of panic slices through my stomach.

Oh gods. Odin knows.

I swallow, not wanting the guard to see my distress. “Alright.” My voice is breathy, and I try to calm myself down. Just don’t panic, Y/n.

The guard and I begin our walk to the throne room.

You have got to calm down. Just be brave and honest and then maybe Odin won’t expose you to your father.

My heart beats rapidly.

We reach the doors of the throne room. While we wait for the order to enter, I wring my hands together nervously. Oh, I wish Loki was here.

The massive doors swing open and I gulp.

Here we go.

The scene in front of me is not at all what I expected.

Odin sits on his throne with Frigga standing at his side. Thor has placed himself a few stairs below and to the right of Odin’s throne, and Loki is half-hidden behind it. Odin, Frigga, and Thor look pleased—incredibly so—but Loki…Loki looks like he is in agony.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. The look on Loki’s face is nearly painful. I desperately want to run to him and comfort him, but that would surely seal our fate….

If us being together is even what this meeting is about.

A heavy feeling pools in my stomach as the early stages of understanding weigh on me. Oh.

“Lady Y/n, it is my pleasure to finally be able to tell you that we have received word from your father.” Odin’s eyes gleam with self-satisfaction. He has no idea of the storm of hurt, fear, and dread swirling within me. The King delivers the message I know is coming:

“Your father has found you a husband. It is time for you to be sent home.”

A/n Hello! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list :)

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/637789805440368640/odins-ward-chapter-8

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola

54 notes · View notes

yandere-daze · 4 years ago

Note

Mista with 92, 89, and 100

Of course!! Thank you for the request!!

92. “I’ve known you for a lot longer than you think.”

89. “This world doesn’t deserve someone as sweet as you.”

100.” I will kiss you until your lips bleed. Just let me have this, I wanted to do this for so long. “

Yandere! Mista with prompts 92,89 and 100

You were a barista at a cozy little café in the streets of Naples. For the most part you were perfectly happy with your job- you had nice coworkers, received reasonable payment and you liked serving the customers.

Today was just another regular day at your job. It was nearly 2 o´clock and the morning shift had been going along smoothly so far, when the tiny bell at the door chimed, indicating that another customer had entered the coffee shop. Looking up from the counter, you studied his appearance a bit while he approached the counter. You definitely hadn´t seen him here before, you would have immediately recognized someone that dressed as flashy as this guy. He wore a blue crop top with white stripes while his legs were adorned with bright red pants that in turn had wavy black stripes on them. Finishing off his rather unique look, he wore a red beanie-like hat that covered up most of his hair, that you could only assume was black. He looked nice enough as he finally came to stop in front of you, a dorky grin on his face.

“Good day sir, what would you like to order?”, you asked while keeping a practiced but inviting smile on your face.

“There´s no need to be that formal with me, y/n! Sir? Just call me Mista!”, he exclaimed while grinning at you from ear to ear.

“Of course, Mista then!”, with the new familiarity you let your professional smile shift into a more genuine one. But then you noticed something that made your stomach churn in a strange kind of way. “Um sorry I don´t mean to accuse you of anything but how come you know my name? I haven´t introduced myself yet and I don´t believe we have met before, or am I wrong?”. You just had to know.

With this, Mista seemed to grow a bit nervous, his eyes shifting and a drop of sweat forming on his face. Was your bad feeling right then? Was something off about this man?

Then Mista´s gaze focused on you again and his eyes lit up in realization, a shaky smile forming on his lips. “You see- “, he raised his finger to point at your chest area, his other hand rubbing at the back of his head, “your name is written right there! On that name tag of yours! I thought because I gave you mine it would only be appropriate to call you by your name as well!”

A wave of relief then washed over you. You really had just been worried about nothing. Living in a city with such high criminal activity just made you way to suspicious it seemed.

“All right, sorry about that! May I take your order then…Mista?” Seemingly happy about the new familiarity, the black-haired man eagerly placed his order then.

After this little encounter, Mista became a regular customer at the café and spent more and more time talking to you there. When he first only got coffee-to-go he now usually sat down at a table near the counter, engaging in pleasant conversation with you, thus often letting his coffee grow cold from talking too much. He never touched his cup of coffee when speaking with you, seemingly completely lost in your conversation, often making lame jokes or telling you about his very exiting “adventures” as he liked to call them. He took down a group of six men all on his own? Sure thing! You didn´t really believe any of the crazy stories he told you, thinking them too ridiculous to be true, but you liked listening to them all the same. Other than that, he seemed to share a lot of your hobbies! Whenever you decided to open up about one of your many interests, he was already listing all his favorite things about it. It was like he wasn´t even surprised by anything you said anymore but liked to just hear you talk. It was honestly kind of comforting to have someone you could just vent at, him listening to you anyway.

There was only one problem. Whenever you had to leave his table to attend to another customer you had to physically pry Mista´s arms off you with how tense he suddenly grew. On top of that, there was always some kind of sad or even pouty look on his face when you had to get up. You didn´t know how to feel about this particular behavior of his and even more so when your coworkers started to tease you about how much time you spent with him, asking if there was something going on between the both of you. You always fervently denied any kind of relationship you two might have, your coworkers not believing a word you were saying and Mista growing an actually kind of scary look on his face.

It was at the end of one of your usual shifts when things started to escalate. You had just finished closing up the shop and were heading back home, when you felt a pair of eyes pierce into your back. Turning your head to look behind you, you soon found the source of your unease. You saw Mista, jogging up to you with a very uncharacteristic look on his face. He actually looked kind of nervous to you? Wondering what he might have to say to you, you slowed down until you came to a screeching halt, waiting for him under the nearest streetlight. After catching up to you, Mista needed a few moments to regain his breath, seemingly worn out. After catching his breath and shakingly getting up from his hunched-over position, he started to speak up.

“Alright so sorry for stopping you when it´s already so late but there´s something I wanted to ask you y/n..”, now nervously rubbing the back of his head with his left hand, continued: “So I was just wondering…if you maybe wanted to go out for dinner sometime? I just really felt a connection when talking to you.”

But even though he was looking at you so hopefully right now, you had to turn him down. You just didn´t feel the same. “Mista, I´m really sorry but I have to decline. You´re a really great guy and I love talking to you but I don’t think there could be anything more than that. I´m just not looking for a relationship right now.”, you apologized. You felt bad about it but you didn´t want to give him any false hopes.

Mista however, didn´t seem to appreciate your answer at all. Tilting his head he retorted: “Come on y/n, just give us a chance! I know this might have come abruptly but I really do love you! We´re perfect for each other!”

Now you were getting a bit agitated. Why can´t he just accept your decision?

“No Mista, I´m serious. I just don´t think there´s any potential for us. I don´t feel that way about you! Please just accept my decision! Also how can you already tell that we´re perfect for each other?! We´ve barely known each other for a few days! How can you say you love someone that you barely know?” Okay, you were realizing that your tone of voice was getting a little too harsh but you really just wanted him to get the point. You were perfectly fine with staying as friends after this but first this needed to get through his seemingly thick skull.

However after saying that Mista actually started to….chuckle? Was this funny to him now? Was he just pulling a tasteless prank or something? What was going on now?

“Oh my sweet, sweet y/n. My little darling… I’ve known you for a lot longer than you think. I´ve been standing outside the coffee shop, just looking trough the windows and watching you work for months now! I watched your every move, saw each one of your smiles and realized that you were the one for. The ache to see you was growing too strong so I had to finally show myself to you on that one fateful day. And I almost blew my cover too! I was so excited that I said your name before you even introduced myself! I was so panicked that time but you managed to forgive me so it´s all good now.”

“What. What are you talking about??Are you crazy?! That´s crazy!! Please just leave me alone! You´re really starting to creep me out right now!” Absolutely terrified, you started to back away. That man… you didn´t feel safe anymore. Was he even listening to himself talk??

“I´ll show you just how much I love you and then everything will be okay! You will feel the same as me!”, Mista cooed and started to lean in. Seeing this, you took two steps back. You didn´t want this. “Please! Just leave me alone!”, you cried out.

That seemed to do something because for just a minute, Mistas´s usually dorky face grew dead serious as he grabbed you by your shoulders.

“Please don´t struggle, amore. I will kiss you until your lips bleed. Just let me have this, I wanted to do this for so long. “

He then leaned in, forcing you into a heated kiss, feverishly moving his lips against your own as if his life depended on it. Pushing his tongue between your lips and initiating an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue easily coming out as victorious in your little fight over dominance. A fight you didn´t want nor participated in.

After what seemed like an eternity to you, he finally pulled away while holding you in his arms. He looked so damn…happy while you just felt miserable.

And as if to make matters even worse, your face paled as you felt the press of something against your back. Slightly shifting your head, you identified the mysterious object as a gun that Mista was holding in his right hand.

“What- what are you going to do to me now? Are you just going to shoot me now after declaring your love for me and molesting me?”. You couldn’t believe this was happening. After everything went wrong that could go wrong, you were now going to die? This wasn´t how you imagined your day to go.

But Mista just shook his head while letting out a low chuckle.

“Don´t be silly amore, I wouldn’t ever dream of hurting you. But others are not the same. People are cruel. This world doesn’t deserve someone as sweet as you. I will keep you safe from all these cruel people don´t you worry. I just thought that judging from your previous behavior you wouldn´t quite agree with me yet, so I had to do something to convince you. Now please be a darling and follow my directions without causing a scene. I wouldn´t want to break my promise now, would I?”

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

I´m actually really proud of this one!! I´ve never written something this long but I just got really carried away with this one oops!

Hope you like it!!

128 notes · View notes

shimmerfall · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: A Shocking Gambit

"Hey, watch it, creep!"

"Oh, sorry! I-I-sorry!"

On an average day, bumping into a person and knocking them over would warrant more than a stuttered apology. It would definitely warrant more than an apology that was shouted back at the offended party while the perpetrator was sprinting down the sidewalk. And normally, said perpetrator would be remiss to offer anything less than his sincerest condolences for engaging in such rudeness.

"Stop right there!"

Unfortunately, the man didn't have the time to offer any of the dozen or so people he had offended in this manner anything more than quick remorse. The men that ran after him, garbed in cobalt blue uniforms, were gaining quickly. Where the man had to struggle and shove his way down the busy morning street, people nearly jumped out of the way of his pursuers.

Clutching a satchel close to his chest, the man turned down the nearest alleyway and hoped against hope that it wouldn't lead to a dead end. Still, even with more open space to run at full speed, the uniformed men were closing the distance. After emerging from the thankfully open alley and onto a far less populated street, the man searched desperately for his next escape route. At the end of the block, he spotted a fire hydrant, and whispers of a plan began to form in his head as he reached into his satchel and pulled out a gray, disc shaped object.

"Everyone, get away from there!" the man shouted at the few people down the street, then turned a dial on the disc and lobbed it at the fire hydrant. The disc began to hum and spark as it flew through the air, and bounced as it landed near the hydrant. Before the object could touch the ground again, it exploded, scarring the pavement with large cracks and destroying the fire hydrant. Water rocketed from the ground and onto the street as the man ran towards it. Once he reached the torrent of water, he looked back at the men and waited for them to catch up.

The men slowed as they approached the man, stepping into the growing puddle while brandishing metal batons. "Was this your plan?" one of them asked. "Think we ain't willing to get our boots wet?"

Instead of replying, the man took a step back, tossing a disk from his pocket into the growing puddle. The uniformed men waited a moment to see if he was going to run, and once they were satisfied he would not, they stepped forward to apprehend him.

"Hell, if you were just gonna give up anyway, why the whole—aaauugh!" The head of the group cut himself off when he saw that the water they'd been walking in only a moment ago had become electrified. Each of the uniformed men could do little but grunt with clenched teeth against the pain coursing through their bodies.

By the time the shocks had subsided, the men had either fallen to their knees, panting, or were flat on their backs, outright. The head of the group looked up from his position on the ground to confirm what he'd expected, and saw an empty space where the man was before.

"Dammit!" Another of the group said, lying prone and breathing heavily. "They didn't tell us he was a bright-eyes. What kind of sloppy intel are they giving out?"

"Don't think he was," a third man said. "Ain't no use complainin', anyhow.'' He looked up, and was unsurprised to see a figure fly overhead from one building to the next. "We just gotta rely on the foremaster now."

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

After checking behind him one final time to ensure his pursuers were incapacitated, the man slowed to a stop, clutching his satchel to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. While he composed himself, he took a moment to figure out his next move, as many of his options were no longer viable, with less available to him each passing moment.

'I can't believe he summoned the Jury on me!' he thought. 'The police, I might've been able to slip by for a few more days, but the Jury?! Who knows what'll happen if they get their hands on me!' He looked at a nearby shop window and saw a man stare back at him with large bags under his eyes and dark circles around them, the reflection telling the brief but vital tale of someone who hadn't slept in several days. He traced his fingers underneath the bags, then sighed deeply. 'Wait... he summoned the Jury on me. Why would...?''

The man's pondering lasted only a few moments, and once he reached his conclusion, he loudly swore, cursing the past few days worth of needless panicking and sleep deprivation, for they both contributed to his inability to see the obvious truth. "God, I'm such an idiot!"

"Hey now, don't beat yourself up."

The man didn't get the chance to turn and see who was addressing him, since as soon as the newcomer was finished speaking, the disheveled fugitive flew face first into the window he was staring at. Whatever had hit him was enough to push him off his feet and slam him into the glass with enough force to crack it before falling to the ground. Dazed, the man tried to sit up, but his assailant planted their foot on the man's chest to pin him to the ground. The man looked up at who was crushing him, and the barrel of a gun filled his vision.

Past the gun was a man wearing the same blue uniform as the last group that had chased him down, only with distinctions. The most noticeable difference, besides the visor obscuring the man's eyes, was that while the previous group wore basic white boots, this new man had a metal exoskeleton on his lower body, with green tubes that ran down the sides of his thighs, wrapped around both shins, and ended at his heels. The gun itself had a similar design, with the tubes coming out around the barrel. Despite the situation, the downed man couldn't stifle the sense of pride in his chest that the equipment was deemed effective enough to be used in the field by higher ranked Jury members.

Of course, this pride could have also been the sheer irony at being threatened with this specific equipment, or the literal pressure of the metal boot on his chest. Either way, he chose not to dwell on the matter very long.

"You can't just write yourself off over a mistake or two," the armed man said. "You just gotta take it all in stride and try to improve for the future. Positive thinking, right? Though, I'll be honest, you definitely made one hell of a mistake, Mr. Greensly."

The man, Greensly, struggled underneath his captor's foot, but it didn't budge. "Please, you have to listen to me," he said, grabbing on to the man's metal clad leg. "I don't know what they told you, but it was all a lie."

"A lie, huh?" The man reached into a pocket on his coat and pulled out a folded document. "Let's see here," he began, unfolding the paper and scanning it for a bit. "Are you not Kenneth Greensly, assistant head of research and development for Verbradyne? And did you not, two days ago, threaten your superior with violence before stealing company property? All the info in this dossier, just a bunch of convenient lies, huh?"

Only after a beat did Greensly find the right words to respond. "I... well, okay, that's more or less what happened, but you don't understand everything, and if you would just give me a chance to explain, sir—"

"Ah, up-bup-bup," the man interrupted. "First of all, no 'sirs', thank you. Name's Jack Jarrick, Jack if I like you. Secondly, save your breath, Ken. I don't get paid to hear your life's story, we're just supposed to take you and your loot back to Verbradyne. Now, to make sure this is all on the up and up, ahem: By the will of order, the Magna Jury declares you discordant. Surrender to our authority, or be made to comply with force."

"Can't you see you're being used?!" Greensly pleaded. "We're both being used, but if you just let me go, everything can be sorted out! Hell, you can take me into the police station yourself, just don't bring me back to Verbradyne."

This gave Jack pause. The report had said the target was dangerous and armed, and seeing Greensly throw that disc bomb thing more or less confirmed that description, and seeing him electrocute his squad gave him more than enough reason to want to take him down. But wanting to go to the police? After all of this, what was going on that he would prefer being arrested over just giving back what he stole?

"Look," Jack said, lowering his weapon and relaxing some of the pressure he'd been placing on Greensly's chest, "I don't know what's going on here, but I'm just doing my job. Whatever side of the story you have to tell, you can tell it after I finish my part in this."

"I... I understand," Greensly said. "We all have our duties, in the end. This is yours. And this is mine." As he finished, he pushed up on the leg Jack was using to pin him, using every ounce of his strength. While that wasn't very much, it was enough to force Jarrick to stumble back. The Juror attempted to right himself, but for some reason, his left leg was stuck in one position, the knee joint of the exoskeleton refusing to budge, and he fell prone to the ground.

"That tech of yours is quite impressive," Greensly said as he stood up and recovered his satchel, which he'd dropped after being thrown into the window. "The Windleap Aegis: a dymatic support unit designed for high mobility in urban environments, made lightweight to accommodate that necessity, and considerably durable considering the previous two features. Wish I'd had time to work out some of the more crucial shortcomings, like the ease with which the joints can be forced to lock up if someone knows what they're doing."

He dusted himself off while backing away from the downed man. "It really would have just been as simple as adding a bit more plating here and there. Barely a loss in function, nothing even noticeable. Unfortunate, but the old man did complain that the client was a bit impatient for their gear. Though, I think that was pot and kettle talk, if you ask me."

"Oh, shut the hell up," Jack said, attempting to undo whatever Greensley did by hitting his armored knee with the butt of his gun.

"For what it's worth, I wasn't lying when I said I understood you. But as I said, we each have our duties. And I owe far too many people to get caught here by you." Greensly reached into his bag, pulling out another of the discs. He turned the dial on the disc, several times more than he had before, and as the last one did, it started vibrating and letting off sparks of energy.

When Jack noticed the device's movement, he ceased attempting to free himself and aimed his weapon at Greensly. "And to think I almost bought your 'two sides to the story' crap. You think I'm just gonna let you blow me up, you psycho?"

"Here's hoping you don't." And with that, Greensly lobbed the disc at Jarrick just as it began to shake and spark even more erratically than before. Jarrick had had his weapon trained on the fugitive, but switched his target to the disc, which had reached its peak in the air and was beginning to descend on him.

With no time left to decide otherwise, Jack pulled on a sliding mechanism at the top of his gun, producing a quick hissing sound as the tubes on the weapon bulged and inflated. Jack finished pulling the mechanism just as the explosive was less than a meter from his face, he pulled the trigger and unleashed a concentrated burst of air from his gun.

The blast carried more than enough force to launch the disc away from Jack, flying swiftly towards the man that initially threw it. Before it reached its new destination, however, the disc exploded, producing a shockwave that sent Greensly through the shop window and all the way to the back wall of the store, where he impacted with a hard thud before crumpling to the ground in a heap. Jack fared somewhat better, the explosion only throwing him a few feet into the street. He didn't escape without injury, though, as his head bounced against the pavement as he landed.

As both men faded into darkness, one slipped away from the waking world while groaning in agony. The other was, of course, also in agony, but managed a slight smirk of satisfaction before pain and unconsciousness overtook him.

-----

First chapter of the story I’m shilling. The rest of it is at the link below. I’ll probably post these up until the sixth chapter.

#novel #story #writing #fiction #little bit of the bubble #shimmerfall

2 notes · View notes

thorne93 · 4 years ago

Text

The Softest Fire (Part 16)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 3305

Warnings: aaaannngst, heartbreak

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Newt, Theseus, Nora, and Dumbledore entered the room. Newt stood beside Nora as she sat across from me, and Theseus stood beside Dumbledore when he sat.

I peered up at them, my usual bite giving way to general curiosity.

“What’s going on?” I asked, no threat or malice in my voice.

“We… We have something we need to tell you,” Nora started, gesturing slightly to Dumbledore.

“What could it possibly be?” I questioned, wondering why it took four of the best wizards I knew to address it.

“Rosaline,” Dumbledore began, huffing out a breath, “you’ve been cursed.”

My eyebrow twitched up. “Cursed?”

Everyone nodded.

“It appears Grindelwald put you under a series of complex curses. He toyed with memories, he put you under the Imperius curse, along with other loyalty spells and charms. The love you feel for him, the loyalty, it’s all a farce.”

I peered at them, my gaze saying nothing.

“I…” Was all I could get out. I wanted to argue, to say he was my true love, but something in me felt they weren’t lying. My memories felt far too fuzzy for me to confirm nor deny their claim. With sorrow in my tone, I asked, “So what now? I’m imprisoned?”

“Absolutely not. We’re going to work to get the curses out of you. So long as you don’t fight us, it should be relatively easy and painless. We have to be careful not to destroy your mind in the process. I’d like to give you your memories back.”

I nodded gently. “Whatever you think is best,” I stated, feeling violated and exposed. “Let’s just get this over.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t fighting us more,” Theseus coolly remarked.

“Either you’re wrong and this is a waste of our time, or you’re right and I won’t want to be cursed any more. It’s all the same to me.”

Everyone nodded, leaving the room, except Newt. He held onto the door and turned back to me and said, “We’ll fix this, Rosaline. Everything will be okay.”

All I could do was nod and smile faintly at him. I truly hoped he was right.

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

For the next few weeks, I felt like a lab rat. Sometimes Dumbledore visited me, sometimes Nora did, sometimes it was an auror I’d never met before. Other times, it was two or more. They stuck their wands against my temple and they worked on me for hours at a time.

As the first spells fell away, my hatred and anger melted away. I no longer said hateful things to anyone who came in. I didn’t give anyone extra grief. I didn’t demand my wand. My memories were still fuzzy and I still missed Gellert though, but the desire to be right next to him had fizzled.

At first it was rather easy, not uncomfortable, but I suppose it was the easy spells out first, because everything that followed was hell. After the first six or so spells, they got worse.

A blood curdling scream erupted in my holding cell. Nora shut her eyes, trying to ignore how it pierced her ears.

“Fucking hell, Rosaline!” she admonished, pulling her wand away, breathing heavily.

I glared at her. “It hurts,” I informed with malice. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep my screams of agony down for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, a small smile playing at her lips, and despite myself, one came to mine too before we were laughing together. A fit of giggles completely took us over as I laid on my cot and she leaned on the edge. Finally, we gathered our wits and wiped our eyes of happy tears.

“Are you done for the day?”

“Not nearly, but I’m exhausted trying to pull this spell from you. I need to get back to the bookstore and you need rest. Someone will be back tomorrow to try again.”

I nodded while she stood and started to leave. She spun to face me.

“Thank you, for being so cooperative,” she said with a solemn smile.

“My pleasure, Nora.”

And so, the spells continued to get ripped from my mind. Feeling as if my brain was on fire and being axed simultaneously. The team worked and worked until suddenly, the ties to Grindelwald fell away nearly entirely. I no longer wanted to be his wife, be near him, or help him.

I pulled off my engagement ring and sat it on the table one day. Nora was pleasantly surprised to see that, I believe.

“What’s that?” she asked as she walked in, sitting across from me, curious. She picked it up. “Ah, your engagement ring. Wait, does this mean...?”

I peered at her, my thoughts unsure. “I don’t know. I don’t know what it means. I just... I feel like if Grindelwald was in this room, I would obey him, but I have no desire to be near him. How is that possible? I still remember being in love with him? I still…” I trailed off. “My mind is so muddled.”

Nora gazed at me sympathetically, reaching across and squeezing my hand. “We’ll get there. All that’s left is the Imperius curse. Then you’re free.”

“One curse? The imperius?” I frowned, thinking. “That’s what’s holding me?”

She nodded. “Yes. I think that’s why you still feel obedient to him.”

“I wish I could just… shake this last spell lose. This is ridiculous,” I remarked, crossing my arms. “I should be a match for Grindelwald.”

Nora smirked. “You are, but the Imperius curse is powerful, so is he. You’ve also been under its influence for months. It’ll take a lot to bring you out of this, Little Rose.”

Her words made me frown for half a second. I was about to ask her what she called me, but somewhere in the recess of my mind, I could hear Aunt Cecelia saying that to me when I was five. They were chasing me in the backyard, I had a hold of Nora’s wand, and I was running with it. Nora was laughing hysterically from the patio while Uncle Joshua smiled at me.

That was all it took for the floodgates to open. Every memory Grindelwald had blurred and distorted restored to their previous clarity. Nora was never unkind to me. Sometimes we didn’t see eye to eye, and our idea of fashion differed wildly, but she was an amazing cousin. She had my back and I had hers.

Uncle Joshua and Aunt Cecelia were nothing but loving to me, raising me as their own, buying me the finest goods for Hogwarts. They checked in on me regularly and we always spent Christmas together, happily.

And Newt… Oh god… All the love hit me like a wrecking ball. The patience, the compassion, the care, the kindness, the courage. I fell in love with Newt for everything Grindelwald wasn’t.

“Oh god,” I suddenly gasped, and Nora peered at me.

“What is it?”

“I… loved Newt.”

The more the memories came in, the harder it was for me to breathe.

Her eyes assessed me, she wasn’t sure what was happening.

“You were always kind to me. You-- Oh my god, oh my god,” I gasped, my hands flying to my face. Horror painted my expression. “Oh god, Nora, what have I done?” Sobs came before I even realized it. I didn’t even know why I was crying, to be honest.

Within a second she was out of her seat, wrapping her arms around me in a comforting hug.

“Shh, it’s alright. You remember, don’t you?”

I nodded, still sobbing violently. My breathing was rough, I couldn’t catch my breath. “I remember it all. I didn’t join Grindelwald. I went in there to end him. He--He cursed me!” I cried out. “I lived with him! I was going to marry him and be happy about it! Nora… I gave him everything! He stole my mind, my memories, my…” I stopped, saying the words was too much. “How could he do that to me? How could I let him do that to me? The things I did for him. I--”

She continued to stroke my hair, shushing me, trying to comfort me but I just kept babbling.

“I told you awful things. I told Newt awful things.”

“You weren’t yourself, we know that,” she assured.

“I did everything he said, without question, without fail….”

“You had no choice.”

“He exploited me. Newt broke my heart and that son of a bitch turned that against me.” My hands clenched into fists. Sorrow gave way to raging fire.

The door opened, revealing Newt, and the sight of him made my chest nearly implode and a harder sob rocked my body again. Once he saw my reaction, he simply said, “My apologies,” and left.

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

Nora had told everyone to give me space. She informed them that I was curse free and had no desire to see Grindelwald. She was reluctant to give me my wand back and I didn’t blame her. She said that Theseus and his team would probably be in the next day to question me on what I could give them about Grindelwald. I told her I would be ready for it.

Night had fallen, but the room was brightly lit from a full moon.

Thoughts had consumed my mind ever since the last spell broke. I relived old memories, happy to remember the good times, but more than anything, I wept. Tears flowed down my face as I lied, staring, thinking about how badly it must’ve hurt Nora while I was gone. No doubt she searched for me day and night. And Newt, left to take care of all of his animals, and his heart undoubtedly hurting from losing Leta. Theseus’s pain I couldn’t even begin to imagine. He and I were never close, nor did I suspect we ever would be, but he didn’t deserve to have his fiance killed in front of his very eyes. And what I said to him… I was cruel.

To top it all off, I joined the man who caused pain to those I love. I joined the man who tormented Dumbledore, a man who I held dear to my heart as friend and mentor. I let him twist my mind. For Merlin’s sake, he ordered me to kill my cousin and the love of my life and I complied without hesitation. He inflicted unspeakable pain to Newt and I stood by and watched.

What kind of a monster lived inside me?

The door to my holding room creaked open. My gaze shifted from the window to the door, breaking my thoughts from hating myself. When I saw who my visitor was, my chest constricted all over again and tears threatened to flow.

“Rosaline?” Newt said quietly into the dark, his silhouette lit by the light in the hall.

“Yes?” I croaked out.

“I wanted to check on you. Nora said you broke to the last curse.”

“Mhm,” was all I could say.

He came in, shutting the door behind him. “May I sit?”

“Sure,” I said, failing to keep the tears at bay.

He grabbed a chair and pulled it close to my cot.

“How are you doing?” he asked softly once he got settled.

“I--Not well,” I admitted.

“I guess that’s to be expected. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

Silence fell between us, I wasn’t sure what to say to him, or what he wanted me to say.

“So what do you remember?”

“Everything,” I whispered before the first sob broke from me and Newt immediately left his chair to sit on my cot, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I remember falling in love with you. I remember working alongside you. I remember being best friends with Nora. I remember walking into those blue flames to kill that son of a bitch and now…. He took me because I’m powerful. He wanted me for my magic, nothing else. He took how I always felt like second best and twisted that. Do you know how demented that feels? To have the memories in my head. Happy memories of Grindelwald?”

“I’m sure it’s very hard.”

“The worst part is he said everything right, he did everything right. All in all, he was never cruel to me, other than cursing me. All I’d wanted from you, he had done for me. He put me on a pedestal, gave me power, worshipped me. All so I would be his obedient little pet.”

I shook my head, wiping my tears as I laughed without humor. “All my life, I’ve felt like I was never good enough. Nora always had her friends, making them everywhere she went. At school, every professor seemed to admire my wit but, I think in all reality only Dumbledore liked me. Leta Lestrange, well, you always had a soft spot for her and she was nothing but a troublemaker. Not to mention Tina. At the Ministry, they liked my power, but I wasn’t anyone’s friend. Do you know what I mean?” I asked, peering at him. “People like me, people respect me, but no one notices if I don’t show up to the party.”

“I do,” he quietly said.

Again, I laughed. “Newt… You love Tina. I did everything I could for you and you still fell for Tina. I thought I did everything right. Speaking of, how are you and Tina?” I didn’t really want to know, but I was trying to be kind. The idea of them together sent me reeling, but I didn’t have any room to request him to be mine.

Newt’s gaze dropped as his hand fell from my shoulder.

“I… We aren’t…”

A perplexed frown found my face. “Together?” I finished.

He nodded meekly.

“What ever for?” I demanded. “You tormented me for over a year with pining for her and yet you are still not with her?”

“She’s not the one I want to be with,” he breathed, his eyes looking at me, his gaze pointed.

My face and heart betrayed me. The tiniest of grins tugged at the corner of my lips, while my heart fluttered at his words and his expression. A feeling of relief washed through me, finally, I knew he cared for me too, maybe even loved me.

This is all you’ve ever wanted, this is what you wanted to hear right? So why does it hurt so bad? Maybe because you know he deserves better. He shouldn’t love you. He can’t love you. It would only end up getting him hurt.

I peered at him with a sudden panic in my chest. I knew what I had to do, what I had to say. I had to let him go. I had to make him see that being with anyone elsas the best option for him.

“Oh, Newt… no,” I objected softly. “You don’t want to be with someone like me. I’m not good for you. I don’t deserve you, Tina does.”

“I don’t give a damn who deserves me,” he slightly snapped. “I know the pain of watching the person I love love someone else.”

“Welcome to the club.” I wanted to roll my eyes. Chagrin wrapped around me like a familiar cocoon. The pain he felt wasn’t news to me, he should be more sympathetic of-- And then it hit me.

He just said he loved me, for the first time. I never knew he loved me. I suspected he might care, and I hoped for love… But to have him admit it… My heart softened more at that confession.

“Rosaline,” he said as he turned more towards me, taking my hand in his, “watching you love him, hearing about your engagement to him, that nearly killed me. It would have destroyed me to see you with anyone but me, but to know it was Grindelwald… You’re so pure and loving and he’s so vile and awful. I worried I had pushed you into his arms. I thought it was my fault for being so stupid for not telling you I loved you back at Flamel’s.”

I pressed my lips together as I listened. “You didn’t do anything,” I assured. “I didn’t choose him. But you do deserve someone better. When I first started working with you, I told you I wanted to help the world, make a living at doing something kind and productive, not sitting on my behind making legislative decisions.” I paused, biting my lip. “But the truth is… I think I left because deep down I knew I was capable of the things Grindelwald had me do.”

“Rosaline, no--”

I held up a hand to stop him. “I’m not being dramatic, Newt. I’m serious. I worried that if I came into power, some other part of me would take over. I worried I’d be corrupted, coerced, or even become terrible all on my own. Grindelwald didn’t make me powerful, I was already that. He didn’t do anything but make me loyal to him. The hurting, the rage, the loneliness, that was all there, he just twisted it to use it as a tool.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re good. I’ve seen you. You care about every living thing with all your heart.”

“I do,” I agreed, my gaze falling. “But what if that changed? I like power, Newt, I’m not going to pretend I don’t. I like respect. I like knowing I’m the most powerful person in the room.”

“We all know that,” he assured with a soft smile.

“But what scares me more, is what kind of person I became with Grindelwald is who I am deep down. What if that’s really who I am?”

“If you really thought that, you wouldn’t have let us lift the curses. You would be running back to him right now.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I know I did unspeakable things, and I should’ve been strong enough and smart enough to get out of it, and I didn’t. What does that say about me? What kind of evil lives inside me?”

He took his hand and swept my blonde locks behind my ear. “Rosaline Vaughan, if anyone in this world is deserving of love, it’s you. Damn Grindelwald. He did nothing more than manipulate your memories and emotions. You are a good person, to your core.”

“I’m not so sure any more.”

“Maybe you don’t see it, but I do, Nora does, Dumbledore does. I know you may think you had to fight to be appreciated, but I assure you, Nora did nothing but fret over finding you. You are her world. All the students envied you at Hogwarts, believe me, I know because I was one. And I think the professors were frustrated that they couldn’t teach you anything new,” he teased, a smile touching both of our lips. “Theseus always spoke highly of you while you worked at the Ministry. It is a workplace and favoritism would be frowned upon. As much as I hated it, and I’m sure you do too, the most powerful Dark Wizard in history wanted you to be his bride. Regardless of why, he chose you out of everyone. He thought your power, over anyone else’s, would be his best shot at ruling the wizarding world. In an odd way, it’s a big compliment.”

I smiled slightly.

“Friends are overrated anyway, look how many I have,” he remarked.

This made me laugh, for the first time in I had no idea how long.

“This is true, and you’re a remarkable man.”

He gazed down at me with kind adoration. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Thank you, Newt. I needed to hear that.”

He nodded, patting my hand. “I’ll let you rest now.”

“Goodnight,” I said as he got up to leave.

“G’night, Rosaline.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23

@sea040561

@princess76179

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@sarahp879

@malfoysqueen14

@ellallheart

@breezy1415

@marvelmayo

@lyniboy

@paintballkid711

#the softest fire #newt scamander x ofc #newt scamander x oc #newt scamander fic #newt scamander

11 notes · View notes

bunnis-babes · 5 years ago

Note

Hellooo ok so idk if you write for oikawa but if you do can I please have some hcs of being with him? Like what’s it’s like I.e, how you got together, first kiss, first T I M E 😳, moving in with each other, getting engaged, getting married, having kids, it’s ok if not and that’s too much I just thought it was a cute idea

Oikawa and Life with his Lover.

U h m. HELLO???? Of course I want to write this its the perfect time to redeem myself from the atrocity that is my Oikawa relationship head cannons. They fucking suck, and I’m going to use this as a chance to kind of re-write them. Reader is female team captain for reasons.’ Also, this is gonna be long as fuck…

👽Oikawa. The king of the court. The pretty-boy-heartthrob of Seiijoh. The bane of Iwaizumi’s existence. And incredibly, incredibly single.

👽And it’s not as if he doesn’t understand why he’s single, its always the same reason: Volleyball.

👽He dedicates his life to volleyball, its one of the most important things in the world to him, but not a single one of his previous girlfriends understood that or cared at all.

👽There was also the fact that he was incredibly closed off emotionally, not really feeling any sort of a connection with them, other than a mutual pretty face.

👽It left him sad and almost empty most of the time, wanting a relationship that’s deeper than physical attraction, someone who he can open up to and will understand him and his love for volleyball.

👽Then he meets the new girls captain at Seijoh.

👽At first he doesn’t really pay her any mind, she’s not really his “type”. Though he doesn’t even know what his type is.

👽There was no denying how beautiful she was, even without makeup she glowed - even more so on the court. She lit up the room when she walked in, and all eyes including his were drawn to her. Her personality is what really got him, though.

👽She was scrappy and boyish, not afraid to speak her mind and lead her team proudly. She never let people put her down, and took pride in her skills and talents - never letting anyone step on her. He’d never been all that attracted to the free souls at the school - not until her however.

👽He wasn’t immediately in love with her, actually just intrigued by her - kind of like with Hinata and Kageyama. He’ll vehemently deny any attraction to her, but wether he knew it or not, he did feel something for her. He wanted to know her more.

👽The problem was: how did he get to know her?

👽She knew about his reputation, and she knew better than to let herself get pulled in by him and his little lies. It almost had him wishing he’d never acted like that in the first place.

👽So he devises a plan to get to know her, under the ruse of some extra practice. Captain to captain! (Which he kind of wanted to do anyway - so win-win!)

👽Who is she to deny a little extra time on the court, so of course she accepts. However, she makes it very clear she is not going to take any flirting or advances from him, because she isn’t down to fuck with a playboy.

👽So they start practicing every other day together. It’s kind of tense and awkward at the beginning, despite how easily their conversation flows together. She doesn’t trust him, and he doesn’t know how to feel about her yet so its just a weird mess of trying to figure things out.

👽A few months of this and eventually the awkward tension resides and they are able to practice relatively peacefully. They even joke around with each other, and talk to each other in passing - yet Oikawa still wants more.

👽He becomes more active in searching her out in crowded hallways, sometimes stopping by her at lunch to say hello and set up another time for extra practice. Which he doesn’t need to do.

👽She doesn’t mind, enjoying talking Oikawa as he does make for really good company. But she notices he’s different from when they practice alone - his smile is forced and his words are laced with fake happiness.

👽It’s annoying as hell, and she’s fed up with it after a while. So obviously being the outspoken person she is, she immediately confronts him about it, which upsets him and starts a fight that gets blown way out of proportion.

👽And just like that, all that relationship building Oikawa worked for was thrown down the drain - all because he couldn’t swallow his pride.

👽He acts like things are fine - like he isn’t fucking bothered by the fact she’s smiling with other guys, and acting like that thought meant nothing to her. It hurts, but he keeps smiling.

👽The only person who notices his forced smile is - of course - his team. More specifically, the only person who does anything about it is Iwaizumi, who’s very fed up with this relationship drama bullshit.

👽At first Oikawa acts like its nothing, it doesn’t bother him Iwa-chan, why are you so worried. But this is Iwaizumi, and he’s not here to take any of Oikawa’s dumb deflecting, so he isn’t stopping until he gets it out of him. (Though he already knows what’s up, he just wants him to admit it.)

👽So once he finally, finally, gets it out of his dumb mouth Iwaizumi just tells him to talk to her. Like its the best option and “You’re an idiot for not doing it already.” Is all he says. And that’s all it takes for it to finally get through to Oikawa.

👽Finally he gets to a point where they’re alone and he can talk to her… but she won’t listen to him at all. So he sets his pride aside, and begs her to just meet him after school and talk over some extra practice, like old times. She isn’t sure about it, but something about his big brown eyes pleading with her makes her weak enough to accept.

👽They meet up after school that same day and its tense, both parties quiet as the stood across from each other on the court. Oikawa is the first to speak up and apologize for not being more open with her - then she chimes in after a few seconds of thinking with her own apologies. They both insist that they were in the wrong, and it eventually fades from a tense argument to a laughing fit between the pair about how stupid they both felt.

👽Things go back to relative normalcy after this, both of them talking to each other freely and hanging out with each other - but now Oikawa is more open with her before, during, and after school… Just when they thought things were fine, Oikawa’s feelings just had to come into play. Making it so hard for him to be around her without thinking about how cute she was - or how much he just wanted to hug her and tell her everything he feels about her.

👽He thought that if he just supressed these feelings and ignored them things would be fine. She didn’t show any interest in him, so sucking it up and remaining friends was his best option - or so he thought.

👽Little did he know that: yes, she did in fact return his feelings, and she was planning on confessing to him after school after practices.

👽So as their practice started nothing seemed off, but he noticed that the closer it got to them leaving, the more nervous she got. He assumed the worst, thinking maybe a ruthless suitor or some creep was trying to come after her - and tells her he is so ready to kiss anyones ass to keep her safe. He’s already grabbing her things and getting ready to walk her home when she stops him.

👽”Oikawa, no one is… there’s nobody trying to come after me… I was just nervous to tell you that I like you… a lot.”

👽It takes his brain a second to catch up, but boy when it does his heart is doing backflips in his chest. His smile is so wide and genuine, and his eyes are sparkling happily.

👽He can’t stop himself from picking her up and swinging her around, shamelessly shouting out his own feelings. There was no one around to hear anyway, so why should he care about how loud he was being?

👽Thats the start of Oikawa’s life long relationship with his darling girlfriend. One he cherished and loved more than anything else in the world, and he thanked whatever higher power there was everyday for giving her to him to love and care for.

👽Their first kiss was equally as unplanned, and just as sweet as their confession.

👽It was an impulsive decision on both of their parts, as they were just relaxing together on Oikawa’s couch, cuddling while watching Disney movies and occasionally talking about anything that came to mind.

👽They were watching Snow White when it happened, nearing the end where the kiss scene was coming up. Oikawa started complaining about ‘how unrealistic is this’ and ’thats not how you actually kiss’

👽To which she challenged him to show her what a real kiss was to him - and Oikawa was never a man to step down from a challenge, especially not one like this.

👽With a confident smirk he tilts his head to the side and kisses her deeply, chuckling a little at her squeak of surprise - she was so cute and innocent.

👽When he pulls away she’s red and staring slack jawed at him, not able to collect herself fast enough before he spoke up again. “I’ve been waiting to do that for forever.” Which earns him a little smack on his shoulder as she finally recovers.

👽He’s all cocky and confident until she grumbles about him stealing her first kiss, and suddenly he’s apologizing for ruining her first kiss for a stupid joke - which obviously isn’t true, but she’s not going to not use this perfect blackmail just handed to her. Uses it against him all the time (as a joke, she would never actually hold it against him)

👽For the most part their relationship was great, having the normal ups and downs, but it was never anything that would make them hate each other. It was by far the longest relationship Oikawa ever had, lasting through high school and past college and through his demanding volleyball career as an adult.

👽She moved around with him and came to all his games, supporting him from the side while pursuing her own career side by side with him. The two were practically inseparable - scratch that - they were inseparable and neither of them could imagine a life without the other

👽Thats why Oikawa took a small vacation, deciding it was finally time for alone time with his beautiful girlfriend - and time for him to pop a very special question.

👽It’s just a simple little getaway, he rents out a beach house and they stay out on the beach for a week. He takes her out to dinner every night, and they wander around the city just doing whatever they want wherever they want however they want without a worry in the world.

👽It’s when they’re walking along the beach - stereotypical romantic sunset while the hold hands as water splashes over their feet occasionally - that he finally makes his move.

👽He stops her from walking and tells her to close her eyes, which she does with minor reluctance. He fumbles around in his pocket to grabs the velvet box holding the… admittedly overly expensive ring inside. What can he say, she deserves nothing but the best from him.

👽He gets down on one knee, a wide hopeful smile that reaches past his eyes.

👽”Okay open them…”

“No way.”

“Yes, would you-“

“No no, wait wait wait!”

👽That wasn’t he reaction he was expecting, he was expecting her to throw herself into his arms or cry or shout out a yes… but not this. It kind of hurt, but he waited patiently as he watched her fumble with something in her jacket pocket before pulling out a velvet box and getting down on one kn- Holy shit no way.

👽He can’t help but laugh at the situation with them, what a stupid coincidence to happen. He knew they were in sync, but this was a little ridiculous.

👽”So… is that a yes?”

“Yes, now shut up and kiss me.”

👽Both of them decide to have two weddings, a big and extravagant one so they can show off how much they love each other to friends and colleagues that they don’t consider close, but do want to invite. This one comes second, and is purely just to be showy and big like Oikawa has always imagined his wedding would be.

👽The first wedding - the real wedding - is back in Japan with old and new friends who the pair would consider family. It’s considerably smaller, taking place at his wife’s parents house - which isn’t all that small in and of itself but its not as extravagant.

👽He cries when she walks down the isle both times - more so the first time. They picked out the second wedding dress together, but when he sees her in the one she picked out for herself he sobs like and idiot. (Iwaizumi has to literally slap him out of it he’s such a mess)

👽Matsunn and Makki are the men of honor, much to Oikawa’s chagrin. The three of them have been planning this since high school, they weren’t going to back out now.

👽Overall the wedding is by far the most memorable part of Oikawa’s life - marrying the one he loves more than anything in the world in front of the people he grew up with, who mean everything to him. It’s the most emotional he’d ever felt - well until he was told he was going to be a father.

👽When his wife said told him she was pregnant he called literally everyone on his contact list to tell them the news. Iwaizumi is the first to find out and is going to be the Godfather.

“I’m going to be a father, Iwa-chan!”

“Oikawa it’s like three AM over here, shut up.”

👽He’s a mess during the whole pregnancy, worrying about her so much. Like, he doesn’t want her to do anything, and will be at her beck and call; anything she wants she gets, even if its four in the morning.

👽”Toru, would you get me some ice-cream?”

“You at it all last night, but I’ll go to the store right now okay, just rest up babe.”

👽Protective too, like he’s super cautious about who’s around her and who’s touching her when and where. If someone is touching her, he’s watching them like a hawk - no way is he letting anyone hurt his wife and baby, not if he can help it.

👽Also very wary of health risks, checks into everything a million times over to be safe.

👽Actually has his wife worried for him because of all this, but he just assures her he’s never been better.

👽Talks to her tummy anytime she lets him, sometimes he even sings to it because he’s so soft for her and his baby.

👽When the baby is actually delivered he’s so anxious, worried about both of their wellbeing. He just wants them to be okay, and while he knows his wife is one of the strongest women out there, he has no clue what could possibly go wrong.

👽Luckily, nothing goes wrong and he’s brought in to see his child and wife.

👽First thing he does is rush over to his wife’s side and make sure she was okay, and despite how tired and sweaty she was he swore she’s never looked more beautiful holding their baby against her chest.

👽And his baby, god she is just the most adorable child he’d ever seen. He could immediately tell she was going to stress the hell out of him, and he couldn’t have been happier.

👽Just looking at his wife and daughter made him happy that he listened to Iwaizumi all those years ago, made him happy he sucked up his pride and chose this beautiful woman to spend his life with.

A/N: Man, I talk a lot. I decided to exclude the nsfw, because it didn’t really fit the feel of the fluff - hope that’s not a big deal. I hope that the drop in writing quality wasn’t, like, noticeable until I pointed it out rn. I’m doing so much I’m so sorry - I’m just trying not to make a whole bunch of empty promises again! I’m trying to be more healthy in my writing, and just working on things as I go between school and other things. (Also I didn’t edit this so :p)

#haikyu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa #tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru #tooru #oikawa x reader #tooru x reader #x reader #haikyuu headcannons #headcannons

93 notes · View notes

thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #213: COURT-MARTIAL

November, 1981

Aw sweet, I could win a ten-speed!

Welp. Here we go.

This title doesn’t fuck around. This cover doesn’t fuck around.

You know, the Avengers are actually a very rules based organization. In an average issue, its a bit weird to think about these goofuses actually following a charter but its true.

Much more so than the X-Men or the Fantastic Four. The Avengers are always talking about who’s going to be the chairman and procedural things. I think because the Avengers are more a group of equals than the X-Men or Fantastic Four are. The X-Men and the FF have a clear cut leader.

But the Avengers need rules because your common Avengers either all think they could be leading the team, actually could, or all of the above. They need an explicit charter to keep those egos in line.

But I guess my point is, having read 213 and change issues relating to the Avengers, you’d think that court martials would show up more often. They are a group prone to nonsense decisions. I think the one other one we see has Iron Man court martialed and suspended for a time for not responding to an Avengers call and not being able to account for it (since it related to secret identity stuff).

I have to figure that they tend to happen off-screen as necessary with exoneration generally occurring.

This one happens on-screen. And follows up on last time: wherein Yellowjacket shot a mysterious magic woman in the back when Cap was trying to use words and not punches to resolve things.

This is a grim day for the Avengers. They have to put one of their own under investigation and their furnishing related mishaps just keep mishappening.

Look at Thor and Iron Man squeezed onto one tiny table. Cap doesn’t even have room. He has to dramatically stand.

Although this is actually the pre-court martial. Captain America has leveled charges on Yellowjacket and Thor and Iron Man are going to decide whether it warrants proceeding or not.

Captain America: “Yesterday, we engaged in combat with a mysterious woman possessing strange, awesome powers who was attacking Washington, D.C. After heavy fighting -- I managed to win through her defenses and reach her! I’d succeeded in convincing her to cease hostilities -- when, suddenly, for no reason, Yellowjacket blast her with his disruptor ‘sting’ at full force -- in the back! Fortunately, she weathered his attack -- but his action re-ignited the conflict! It could have cost us all our lives... and left the city defenseless!”

Iron Man asks whether Yellowjacket has any explanation for his action.

And since “I was a jerk!” isn’t a great defense, Hank goes with “no explanation!”

Without any explanation for his actions, its decided to convene a formal court martial for three days hence. Until then, Yellowjacket is on temporary suspension. Since Avengers don’t carry guns or badges, he’s asked to turn over his Avengers’ priority ID card. Which presumably gets you discounts at the snack bar as well as some sway with the government and such.

Hank protests but the rules are firm and Hank himself helped write them back in the day.

Outside the... meeting room? Tiny library? Gosh, I’d love a layout to the Avengers mansion. Why aren’t they meeting in their sweet conference room- oh right. The table shrank.

Anyway, outside wherever, Wasp in her new... and frankly lingerie-looking costume is fretting.

(Jan, why are your fashion instincts so hit and miss and miss?)

And then Tigra boops her on the head.

Tigra has continued to be as cat as an equivalent weight in cats and has climbed the wall to hang out on the wall trim. Somehow.

Wasp: “Tigra! What are you doing up there?”

Tigra: “Same thing you’re doing down there -- wondering what’s going on inside! When cats get nervous, they climb! You should try it! It might relax you!”

Tigra also assures Wasp that everything will be alright but privately hopes that it will be. And also dunks on Hank a little.

Tigra: (I’ve never seen a woman so hung up on a guy! And such a strange guy! He seems like such a cold fish... all wrapped up in whatever murky stuff is churning around inside himself! He gives me the creeps!)

Yellowjacket comes out of the whatever room and Wasp is immediately on him, asking he hold her. And he’s like

mmnnyurrh

Yellowjacket: “Jan, just -- just get away from me! Leave me alone! Haven’t I got enough to contend with without you slobbering all over me?”

When she turns away sadly he apologizes and hugs her, saying he’s just afraid because the Avengers are going to court martial him.

A still lurking on the wall like a five foot something cat Tigra wonders to herself “Jan, baby! I just don’t get it! Don’t you know you’re worth ten of him?”

She’s right and she should say it.

The pre-court martial panel splits, to meet up again in three days for the court martial.

Captain America flips off the roof into a thunderstorm to get some serious thinking and flashbacking done. He’s extra like that. I mean, seriously. There’s a front door, STEVE.

Cap: “I wonder... am I doing the right thing? Was Yellowjacket’s action just a mistake -- ? Something that could happen to anyone?”

He thinks back to the war, when he in disguise as Perfectly Average Steve Rogers PFC was on a recon patrol and his unit ran right into a huge German advance.

His unit got cut to pieces around him until he was the only one left. At that point, he ripped his uniform off to reveal he was dressed in layers as CAPTAIN AMERICA.

I was going to snark that his secret identity was worth more than the lives of his unit but I dunno that even a Captain America could have done much to save his GI guys. The way its portrayed and all. Steve even thinks that his number is up so might as well go out as CAPTAIN AMERICA.

“It was early in my career -- after I had established myself but before I had seen much front-line combat! Till that day, I hadn’t suspected how wise the government had been in giving me this costume! The very sight of Captain America seemed to terrify the German soldiers, as, fighting like a man possessed, I cut a swath through their ranks...”

Cap fought and fought until there were no more enemies standing. Surrounded by collapsed and probably unconscious and not at all dead German soldiers.

He hears a sound behind him and acting on battle instinct he throws his mighty shield with the intention to make someone yield.

But: instant regrets.

“The sound was a child... a war orphan, collecting brass to sell for money to buy food! Thank god, she was bending to pick up a shell casing just as my shield would have struck! Meant to stun a full-grown man, it probably would have broken her neck if it had hit!”

Wow! Cap almost killed an orphan!

The point being that Cap wonders if he has the right to accuse Hank, when “there, but for the grace of god...”

Meanwhile, Iron Man has stayed back at the mansion to refresh his memories with some research in the Avengers records.

This is one part a montage of previous Hank Pym moments and one part ‘actually I did do the research before I wrote this’ from Jim Shooter.

Because, yeah, Jim Shooter, according to Jim Shooter, went back and reread every single appearance by Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne before writing this story. Believe it or don’t but the montage is here so he at least did enough to get panels to reference or reuse.

Iron Man notes Hank’s tendency to change identities and costumes frequently, how his gaining the power to go giant didn’t work out too well for him, how he left and rejoined the group, never seemed comfortable with the Avengers, and in Iron Man’s estimation that he felt outclassed by the other founders.

And perhaps the reason he kept ping ponging between the team and his research was a lack of success in either one. How his attempts to achieve a scientific breakthrough to prove himself (I guess Pym Particles are a case of ‘what have you done for me lately?’ or just that he didn’t want to be a one-hit wonder) bore only Ultron, one of the Avengers’ deadliest enemies.

Iron Man: “But I wonder... can he ever truly be free of the spectre of Ultron -- ? Can he ever be more than a haunted, hollow man drowning in a sea of guilt over the wrongs done by his monstrous creation? Can he ever rid himself of the desperate need he has to redeem himself in his own eyes?”

That’s a hell of a way to talk about your friend, Tony. I know the Avengers have a policy of not interfering in each others personal lives but its probably not the best policy to watch him struggling and just wait to see if he figures out his shit on his own.

I don’t know.

Iron Man: “And if he is in that kind of inner turmoil, he needs our help... our support... our love! Hank is a friend to us all... a founder of this group! How can we turn our backs on him when he needs us most? How dare we punish him for a mistake that any of us might have made?”

Oh! Well! Learn me to not flip the page. I guess in fairness Hank has been at his worst here than previous times.

Anyway, as I said, Tony doing this research mirrors Jim Shooter doing his research. And Tony reaches much the same conclusion as Shooter does, although perhaps more kindly worded.

Jim Shooter: “Back in 1981 I was writing the Avengers. Hank Pym aka Yellowjacket was married to Janet Van Dyne aka the Wasp and things had not been going well for him for a long time. Before I embarked on the storyline ... I reread every single appearance of both characters. His history was largely a litany of failure, always changing guises and switching back and forth from research to hero-ing because he wasn’t succeeding at either. He was never the Avenger who saved the day at the end and usually the first knocked out or captured. His most notable ‘achievement’ in the lab was creating Ultron. Meanwhile, his rich, beautiful wife succeeded in everything she tried. She was also always flitting around his shoulders, saying things to prop up his ego.”

Geez, Jim.

I don’t know about Hank never saving the day at the end. Never is a bit much. But I don’t want to reread 213 minus issues to say for sure.

But this is the portrayal of Hank that went into writing this story and Iron Man is the one who speaks it aloud.

Outside the mansion, Wasp and Yellowjacket run into a group of young fans right as they leave. The fans all want Wasp’s autograph and mistake Hank’s codename for Bumblebee and ask if he’s ever done anything.

Wasp: “Look, I’m just his sidekick! You’d better get his autograph too!”

A child, probably: “Nah! We just want yours! Right, guys?”

This is like that scene with Hulk in Endgame where he tries to get the fans to appreciate Ant-Man too, to Scott’s growing annoyance with the situation. Except not as played for laughs.

On their limo ride to their Cresskill, NJ home, Wasp tells Hank not to let those smart-aleck kids get to him.

Yellowjacket: “... Well, they were right! What have I ever done? Nothing!”

Wasp: “Hank, don’t be silly! Oh, who cares what they think? You’ll always be my hero!”

In fairness, Wasp has been actively on the team for a bit and memories are short. Hank’s been busy in his lab. Which Wasp reminds him but that's the lab she paid for and where he’s accomplished NOTHING!

The staff of the house also dig the knife in a little, possibly unintentionally but eh who can say. When they address the couple Mrs. Pym, aka the person who signs their checks is primary and Hank is the after thought. But possibly they just interact more with Jan if Hank has been cooped up in his lab.

Jenkins: “Welcome home, Mrs. Pym! Uh, you too, sir!”

Jenkins in the next panel: “Madame, would you like us to begin preparing your luncheon now? And Mr. Pym’s too, of course!”

And then, things get awkward. Although oh lord, Jan is trying.

Wasp: “Alone at last! Thank goodness! It seems that we never have any time just to be together by ourselves anymore! You know, just to talk, and --”

Yellowjacket: “I don’t want to talk about my problems, Jan! I know you mean well, but --”

Wasp: “But I’m ‘dingaling Jan, the airhead heiress’! Every time I try to help I just make things worse! I know! I -- I’m sorry! I always goof everything up... always say the wrong things! I’m such a dumbbell! It’s a good thing I found you to think for me, darling! You’re so smart... so strong... mmm... so sexy! All I want to do is melt in your arms... be yours! I need you to protect me and keep me warm, lover! Oh, Hank! Let’s just sneak off to bed and cuddle and kiss and -- and let me show you how much I love you! Whaddaya say, big boy?”

Yellowjacket: “Uh... not now, honey! I -- I’m just, just a little too tense now! You understand, don’t you? I think I’ll go putter around in the lab for awhile! Maybe that’ll relax me! See you later... okay?”

Eeesh.

Eeeeeeeeesh. It almost hurts watching Jan diminish herself so much to try to make him feel better.

Although a lot of her solutions seem to be ‘lets make out until you feel better’ but she did offer to talk. Not even about anything specific. And Hank automatically assumes that the only thing to possibly talk about is his problems.

Hank locks himself up in his lab, realizing that he’s disappointed Jan but saying that its better to not even try to get romantic while he’s this upset.

Yellowjacket: “I wouldn’t blame her if she hated me! I’m a failure as a husband... just like I’m a failure as a hero! So here I am again, hiding out in the lab... where I’m a failure as a scientist! I hate this place! ... But I keep coming back -- because, here at least I had one success!”

And yes, that one success he credits himself with... is Ultron!

Yellowjacket: “Yes... here I accomplished what no one else ever has! I built a robot capable of independent thought! Here, I created... Ultron! Even that went wrong! Even that, my own success turned into a disaster! A failure! But maybe, just maybe, my one success will yet provide the key to my salvation!”

And he starts putting together a new robot!

Hoooooooooo boyyyyyyyyyyyyy, Hank. Building robots isn’t always the solution!

Also: in order: does the robot Human Torch just not count then? And do Pym Particles not count?

SCENE AND TIME CHANGE

Three days have passed, it is dawn of the three days later.

Tigra is spending her morning napping because she is here to cat to the utmost.

Look at this. Ridiculous.

You are a ridiculous individual, Tigra Greer Grant Nelson.

And like a cat, sleep can be a tenuous thing for the faint sound of footstep on carpet outside her room has her spring out of bed and answer the door of her room before Jarvis even knocks.

Because Tigra is here to be a cat and unnerve Jarvis, for reasons which escape me.

She jokes about Jarvis bringing her a mouse for breakfast but he’s really here with her weekly stipend check from Tony Stark.

This is a thing that’s been implied but not explicitly spoken but the Avengers actually get paid for being Avengers. Its not really a salary as much as a stipend.

I don’t know that there’s a difference, except maybe legally. Maybe in regards to taxes. Maybe stipends don’t get income taxed and you don’t need to submit a form to the IRS.

That our Tony! Ha ha ha pay your taxes ya dink

Anyway, the weekly check is a ‘merely’ a modest stipend to defray miscellaneous living expenses. Most Avengers refuse the stipend because, well, they don’t need it! And most Avengers aren’t going to pocket a thousand dollars they don’t need just to laugh at Tony for handing out free money.

Your Thors, Iron Mans, Wasps and Antgiantyellowjacket Men.

But the Avengers that live in the mansion and have no outside means of support (definitely Hawkeye whenever he was on the team, definitely Beast and he definitely bought weed with it, Wonder Man, probably Scarlet Witch and Vision) accept the money.

Tigra: “Well, I’ll sure take it! I’m tired of being broke!”

And then she actually looks at the check.

Tigra: “Jarv, this check -- ! It’s for a thousand dollars!”

Jarvis: “If that is not sufficient, madame, I’m sure Mr. Stark would be happy to increase the amount!”

Tigra: “Increase the --! No, that’s okay, Jarv! This’ll do just fine! Whee! We’re in the money... we’re in the money!”

So according to an online calculator $1000 in 1981 dollars is worth about $2,820.56 in 2020 dollars!

Plus no rent because firemen sleep in the firehouse!

Being good really is its own reward! Where do I get some superpowers, an invitation to the Avengers, and probably a c-list fodder death in the next event!

Ok so maybe its not all great to be an Avenger. But the monetary compensation certainly sounds good to some!

And it bears mentioning that Tigra signed up to be an Avenger when all she thought she’d get out of it was a place to sleep and a chance to do hero stuff.

Anyway, Jarvis also reminds her that she has to attend the court martial meeting at four, prompting her to say “Aw! Don’t remind me of downers like that now, Jarv!”

You’re a classy person, Tigra.

Stop sexually harassing the butler and also anyone. Its just uncomfortable.

And poor Jarvis continues to be allergic to cats and giant woman cats. Poor, poor Jarvis.

As four approaches, the Avengers all start to head to the mansion for the court martial.

Iron Man as Tony Stark, normal billionaire man, cuts short a board meeting claiming another appointment. One of the board members is like lucky dog is probably off to a date with a startlet but oh ironies man, Tony would trade places with the board guy Dillworth if he could because he’s not looking forward to this.

And at Upper West Side Medical Clinic, Brilliant Perfectly Normal Surgeon Dr. Donald Blake is doing surgery when he realizes drat that Avengers meeting is soon.

So he asks the other doctors to finish up without him and takes off.

In fairness, in fairness! The patient was out of mortal peril. It was just the closing up and such that was left. But the other doctors are like look at that arrogant doctor man, he may be the best doctor on Earth but I don’t like his attitude.

And in the court martial room waits Captain America. Still stuck in that conundrum he’s been in.

Captain America: “When the court martial convenes, I don’t know how I’m going to find the courage to look Hank in the eye and then demand that he be expelled from the Avengers -- but I must... though it will be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done! I’m going to prosecute the case as best I can... because it’s my duty! But all the while I’ll be praying that they acquit you, Hank! I hope you understand!”

Cap is at least fair handed here. This is exactly the treatment he demanded for himself in the Charles Soule She-Hulk series where he asked Matt Murdock to prosecute the hell out of him and She-Hulk to be his defense in a wrongful death lawsuit.

The idea is this: if Hank is acquitted, then it clears his name without a shadow of a doubt because Cap wouldn’t have gone easy. Accountability, its a hell of a thing.

BUT NOW WE GO BACK SEVERAL HOURS to Cresskill and the casa de Wasp.

Janet woke up and found no Hank. He’s been locked in his lab since they got back from the pre-court martial three days ago. And she’s gotten worried that he’s hurt himself or gotten ill so she decides to invade his privacy a little bit.

Hank has locked the lab door but Jan can just about wriggle through the top because the insulation is a little cracked.

So she squirms into the very small gap between door and frame.

And finds Hank has built a medium giant robot.

He’s just finishing up the programming. Because he’s programming the robot (he calls it Sal, short for Salvation I) to locate and identify the Avengers visually as well as by brain-wave patterns.

Hank this is all very dubious! I can’t think of a good reason why you might secretly be building a robot and putting all of your friends’ faces in it!

But Sal’s detectors are running and its suddenly pinging two Avengers in the area, not one. And when Hank turns on the visual scan system to check, whoops! Jan’s here! Jan saw your robot!

Hank freaks out a little bit.

He slams his fist on the computer near where tiny bug her is standing and shouts.

Yellowjacket: “What are you doing here? Why did you come here? WHY?”

She tells him that she was worried because she hasn’t seen him in days but he accuses her of spying on him.

Jan reiterates that she wasn’t spying. She just wanted to make sure he was ok.

Annnnnnd. Hank decides that Jan being here is a serendipitous chance to test his new robot!

By having it attack Jan!

HANK!

Sal charges Jan and grabs her in its giant pincer hands. Jan tries blasting it with her bio-electric sting but to no effect.

As Hank brags Sal is made of invulnerable adamantium. Plus plus plus, he’s programmed to respond if she tries shrinking.

Yellowjacket: “Yeah, Sal’s a pretty tough customer... powerful enough to trash all of the Avengers together! No one can stop him -- except me, because I happen to know about his little secret weak spot! One precisely placed shot with my disruptor-blast stinger -- and Sal collapses, defeated!”

Jan then asks the pertinent question.

Hank Pym what the hell is this robot for??

Yellowjacket: “Why, I’m going to save my career, Jan! That’s what I’m going to do! Let’s be realistic, shall we? The charge against me is ‘endangering the safety of fellow Avengers and civilians through neglect’! The penalty is expulsion! They’re going to boot me out! This ‘court martial’ is just a formality!”

This isn’t a good plan. Nothing here is good. Only bad things will occur.

I’m not being silly, for a change. This is a bad scene.

It does what it intends to do, more or less. But its uncomfortable.

Jan is like c’mon don’t think like that. And Hank is like well, I’m going to give it a chance. But if things start going badly, boy howdy, I’m going to summon a robot to beat up my friends! Also Hank himself! That’s right! He programmed a robot to beat the shit out of him!

And then when things look their worst, Hank will save the day by blasting the robot in the secret weak spot and saving the day!

Jan tells him not to do this dumb thing.

Yellowjacket: “SHUT UP! I’ve got to do this! I’ve got to save the day right before their eyes! Don’t you see? It’s my only chance to redeem myself! It’s the only way!”

And there’s no way to really sugarcoat this. Hank just hauls off and hits her.

Or makes a very dramatic gesture and accidentally strikes her.

Jim Shooter has said that the hit wasn’t in the script.

Jim Shooter: “In that story (issue 213, I think), there is a scene in which Hank is supposed to have accidentally struck Jan while throwing his hands up in despair and frustration - making a sort of ‘get away from me’ gesture while not looking at her. Bob Hall, who had been taught by John Buscema to always go for the most extreme action, turned that into a right cross! There was no time to have it redrawn, which, to this day has caused the tragic story of Hank Pym to be known as the ‘wife-beater’ story.”

I don’t know. As I said last time with Gorn and Linnea, Hank is reflected in Gorn. And Gorn intentionally hit Linnea.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that it was set in stone that Hank would hit Jan. But it seems like it was foreshadowed in that way.

And here’s the thing: whether Hank intentionally hit her or not doesn’t really matter with how the story comes off and is attempting to come off.

Before he, intentionally or not, hits Jan directly he has also sicked a robot on her (and under-reacts when she says the robot is hurting her) and smashed his fist near her when she was small sized.

Any one of these would be unacceptable behavior.

And even if it was an accidental hit, Hank doesn’t express remorse or guilt or even awareness that he did a bad thing. He just keeps ranting as she’s sprawled to the floor.

Yellowjacket: “You’ve got to understand -- ! I can’t let them drum me out of the Avengers! I can’t! It’s all I have left! Since you had to stick your nose into my business, you’re in this with me now, Jan! I’ll keep it simple for you! All you’ve got to do is play along and keep your mouth shut! Got that?”

So. Yeah. Inadvertent or intentional doesn’t really change anything here. His behavior in this entire scene is beyond the pale.

So we time skip to the present of 4:27 PM, twenty-seven minutes after the start of the court martial and twenty-seven minutes of no show.

Tigra is getting frustrated.

Tigra: “I want to get this craziness over with! You know I’ve been an Avenger for a week! I feel pretty silly judging a guy who’s been around since day one!”

She asks if she can just cast a vote for acquittal preemptively and fuck off.

Iron Man says of course not! Although he thinks to himself that if it were possible, he would have done it and probably Thor too.

So that’s the situation regarding the Avengers’ thoughts on this court martial. Tigra wants to just vote to acquit because she’s only been here a week. Iron Man and probably Thor would also like to just vote to acquit. And Captain America is going to prosecute as hard as he can but is secretly hoping that Hank gets acquitted.

Far from Hank’s belief that the court martial is just a formality.

Anyway, Hank and Jan (wearing sunglasses) show up.

Yellowjacket: “Sorry we’re late! The George Washington Bridge was jammed as usual!”

Captain America: “No harm done, Hank!”

Yellowjacket: “You mean you won’t be pressing additional charge for malicious tardiness, Cap?”

Captain America: “Uh... let’s get started!”

Yeah. Off to a great start. Just. Not a good foot, Hank.

So the court martial starts! Thankfully the table has had a growth spurt or maybe got switched out for a bigger table.

So the voting will be by Tigra, Thor, and Iron Man. Wasp may participate but not vote because she’s Hank’s wife. Cap will prosecute.

And begin to prosecute he will do!

Captain America: “Four days ago, Yellowjacket blasted an enemy in the back -- an enemy who had already ceased hostilities! We all know that Hank’s no coward and not one to panic! It was a mistake... a misjudgement made on the spur of a tense, pressured moment! It could have triggered disaster!”

“But it didn’t! We were lucky! So, the temptation is to forget it... write it off! We tend to feel that way because each of us thinks that it’ll happen to us someday!”

“Wrong! We can’t let it happen! We’re the Avengers, not the Brooklyn Dodgers! One ‘error’ by one of us can cost thousands of lives! We don’t dare allow ourselves to think it’s ever all right to make a mistake!”

“Our responsibility is overwhelming! We’ve got to judge ourselves harshly! I recommend for Yellowjacket, as I would for myself, the severest possible penalty!”

So at this point Hank can please guilty to the charges and rely on the mercy of the court or defend himself from the charges.

And Hank decides to plead not guilty, of course!

Okay, so what’s your defense, Hank? You actually have a possible avenue here that Elf-Queen didn’t speak English and you were behind her so it was difficult to tell that hostilities had ceased and plus she had tossed your new teammate into space.

Are you going with something like that?

Yellowjacket: “I don’t deny the sequence of events as Cap described them... more or less! Yes, when it seemed as though the enemy had ceased fighting, my attack -- my ‘mistake’ -- seemed treacherous! But I find it odd that the great Captain America never even once considered treachery on the part of the enemy!”

“She could have been setting him up! By striking when I did, in the way I did, I may have actually saved his life! But is he grateful? No! Why not, one may ask!”

“Well, perhaps you noticed that the ‘enemy’ in question was a beautiful woman! Does he think I didn’t notice the way he was looking at her? Well it’s no wonder he’s so upset!”

“You like her, eh, Cap? And I hurt her -- and that’s why you have this vendetta against me, even though I may have saved your miserable life! Oh yes! I was actually the hero out there! Me! But, then, you turned it all around... you made a fool out of me!”

“And it worked, didn’t it? That’s when she started looking back! Isn’t it? Isn’t it? ISN’T IT?”

Yeah. That. Just sort of says it all, Iron Man.

Hank senses that maybe his rant wasn’t quite as convincing as it sounded in his head and demands Jan tell them how right he is!

Jan: “... no more! Let it end! I beg you, Hank, if you love me... let it end!”

And Thor sees her black eye and reacts in shock, asking if Hank hit her.

By the by the way, this is also why Chuck Austen’s retcon that Hank had been physically abusing Jan for a while can fuck off. Because in his telling, the Avengers knew for a while and just didn’t do anything.

And I do not like that as a concept.

So since this is going not how he’d prefer, Hank pulls the killer robot remote out of his outside pants and activates the killer robot.

Its got to be sunk cost at this point, right?

Even if he saves the day from the killer robot, does he think that they’re going to forget the black eye and his rant that really Captain America is too horny?

AND THEN THE ROBOT BUSTS IN THROUGH THE WALL AND STARTS BEATING EVERYONE UP

with a KA-BWHOOM! naturally.

The Avengers rally despite the surprise and try to fight back but the robot is made of adamantium and we know how much trouble the Avengers always have with Ultron.

Cap tries throwing his shield at Sal and it doesn’t even yield! In fact, Sal catches the shield and slams it into Cap’s chest. Possibly caving in his ribs.

Iron Man tries to draw Sal off of the others by shooting repulsors at it but Sal zooms over really quick and punches him in the chest before he can react.

At this point Hank begins to have the faintest inklings that maybe he’s done a bad, specifically in creating a killer robot and programming it to attempt murder on his friends.

Yellowjacket: “I -- I hadn’t realized just how deadly, how savage Sal would be in full attack mode! I’ve got to zap his weak point before he hurts someone bad!”

And he probably forgot that he programmed Sal to kill him too because when Yellowjacket goes for the weak point, Sal swivels around and hits Yellowjacket, sending him WHOK!ing into the wall.

Oh. Hey. Sal’s turn and smack pose is vaguely similar to the thing between Hank and Jan.

Wonder if that’s intentional.

Hank is knocked so for a loop (by a robot that, I’ll remind you, he programmed to beat him up) that he almost passes out and has to struggle to his feet.

But he has to stay conscious because he’s the only one that can stop the threat he himself created!

And since Sal is kicking the shit out of Thor, the threat that Hank himself created really is a big one!

Yellowjacket: “C’mon, Hank! Suck it up! Make the room stop whirling! Focus... focus on the weak spot! Aim... disruptors on full force!”

But Hank takes too long and Sal finishes beating up Thor and grabs Hank in his claws. And hey more mirroring maybe! Like Jan before, Hank is in Sal’s claws and is being crushed.

And to fit the mirroring, Jan comes to Hank’s rescue. But out of actual, factual real concern for Hank’s pain unlike Hank earlier not reacting to Jan’s pain.

Again, I wonder if it was intentional. And I think in this case it must be?

Its because Hank put her through this nonsense earlier that Jan knows where the weak spot is and can blast it to save the day, the Avengers, and Hank.

Sal plops over with a KLANG!

And Hank...

Is not grateful.

Yellowjacket: “Why? Why did it have to be Jan? If -- if I couldn’t do it... why her? Why? Why?”

After everything, after every way in which his own plans spectacularly crashed and burned, he’s still most concerned that Wasp outshone him?

Lets let Thor put it best.

Thor: “Thy plan... was foolish, Yellowjacket! A base and transparent ruse!”

But Yellowjacket doesn’t hear Thor or anything really.

Yellowjacket: “guess i’ll go now... guess... i’ll go.”

And he lurches out the door in a bit of a daze.

Iron Man: “Jan I -- I -- what should we do? What can we do?”

Wasp: “For me? Nothing! I’m okay... now! You know, I feel like crying... but I just don’t have any tears left!”

And that’s that.

I’ve said a lot of what I’ve had to say as we went along.

There’s more to come in this particular arc. Hank isn’t done yet!

What an ominous statement.

Follow @essential-avengers because I’m doing a good job, maybe. Please also like and reblog.

#Avengers #Yellowjacket #hank pym #the wasp #Sal the robot who offers hugs #Captain America #Thor #Iron Man #Tigra #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #who would have thought a court martial would go so bad #you had THREE WHOLE DAYS to prepare your defense #geez tho geez #cw domestic abuse

18 notes · View notes

champion-leon-imagines · 5 years ago

Note

I really like the way you write smut! You’re pretty good at it lol. Can you write about Leon catching YN masturbating? And he gets really horny from it and he joins her and is dirty talking to her and touching her and just smut? If you’re not comfortable with that, it’s totally fine! You’re a great writer! :)

Aww, thank you so much for your kind words. Actually I didn’t thought my english smut is that good, haha. Because I have a hard time writing this (no pun intended). So I apologize for the delay of this because I kinda needed a break after these thirsty stuff I wrote before *cough*Anyway, I hope you like it! And thank you again :)

(Though it’s kinda hard to see Leon dirty talking. This boy is pure. But after he got familiar with having sex and being dirty, I imagine he could be into that. So I write this as a steady longterm relationship where sex is really casually between him and his s/o!)

And again a warning for NSFW under the cut ^^

“Sweetheart, you’re in here?“ Leon called after you. He just got home earlier than you expected and didn’t found you anywhere. There was only one location where he didn’t looked, the bathroom. He would not mind seeing you showering or something, infact he would love to join you. That’s why he immediately walked towards the bathroom door. When he grabbed the doorknob to open the door, a loud and breathy moan reached his ears, making him stop in his tracks.

He never witnessed you while you touched yourself, though he was truly aware that you do when he is away for some time. At first, he was embarassed like hell to even think about those kind of stuff, not to mention to talk about. But after having a steady, longterm relationship and being sexually active, Leon got accustomed to it quickly. Infact, he really enjoyed his erotic adventures with you.

When your moans became more desperate, he dared to give this a look and opened the door just a tiny bit to see through. He was careful not to make any noise and be unnoticed by you.

You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, closed eyed and rubbing your entrance vigorously. Leon had just the perfect view from the door to look at your needy core due your spreaded legs. He gulped, cheeks flushed and he couldn’t take off his eyes off you. A part of him wanted to shut the door, because it was still not behaved to watch you masturbate. But his other side, the dominant one in him, got turned on by the sight of you touching yourself.

A long and high-pitched moan left your lips, when you inserted two fingers and pumped them just at the right rhythm. This almost drove Leon wild and he watched you mesmerized until you did a bit more than just moaning.

“Leon- that’s it.. Right there, love.” your chants of his name made his pants tighten painfully, when his erection poked against the fabric and seeked permission to set free. Leon supressed his own moans for the sake of staying unnoticed, but he was not able to restrain himself from letting one hand going down to the bulge of his pants.

He rubbed his clothed length with his palm and stifled his groans and moans by biting his lip harshly. He never thought that it would get him so damn hot to watch you masturbate while you thought of him. Your longing for him must be so desperate like his was for you.

Leon grabbed his length firmly and stroked it through his pants roughly while he watched you playing with your clit while you finger-fucked yourself. Your thumb circled your sensitive bud, adding more pleasure to your finger thrusts until you couldn’t take it anymore and reached your climax. “Aaaaah- Yes, Leon…”

That was it.

That was the moment Leon lost it.

He undressed himself quickly, his clothes dumping at the ground rather uncaring and he opened the door now with full force. You jumped by the sudden sound and see your boyfriend and soon-to-be-fiance. Without saying anything, he joined you in the bathtub and pulled you close, his hungry lips devouring yours instantly. You relaxed thanks to a sharp inhale during the kiss and put your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Leons hands were needy, when they roamed over your naked body. He instantly rubbed your clit, making you squirm and moan against him. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm. He massaged your clit with his thumb, while his fingers caressed your folds and he pressed you against the cold tiles of the bathroom.

Feeling hot from his body and lips, compared to the coldness on your back had a tantalizing effect on your body and you mewled attentive when you bucked your hips more into his hands, wanting to feel more of him. “Do you always touch yourself when I am away?” he asked and sucked at your neck, finding your sweet spot in an instant. You moaned loudly and dug your nails into the skin of his back.

“Y-Yeah.. I just can’t help it. I need you so much, Leon..” you confessed and threw your head back to give him more access to your neck. Leon hummed in response, sucking and nipping at your skin while his fingers filled you. You gasped, feeling his fingers scissoring you and pumping at a higher speed than you just finger-fucked yourself moments ago. “And do you imagine it’s being me touching you during those dirty times?” he breathed against your ear, sucking at your earlobe gently and biting just ever so slightly to make you shiver. Damn, he just knows how to make you melt into his touches.

His way of dirty talking turned you on so much that you moaned at his question. “Y-Yes, I imagine it’s your skilled hand travelling down my body and touching my pussy. Oh god, I always see your toned body and getting lost just by the thought of you fingering me.” you admitted, blushing. You never really dirty talked to each other, but you thought it was really hot right now.

Leon silenced you with a rough kiss, making you gasp in the process. He used this to slip his tongue into your mouth and engaging yours to a battle of dominance. You only won those fights when your relationship started, but now you didn’t had a chance against Leons way of kissing you senseless. “That’s good.” he groaned against your lips and his fingers pulled out of you to rub your clit fast and mercilessly, turning you into a moaning mess for him. “Because I feel the same way about you.” he added and sucked at your bottom lip gently, tucking at it and biting it.

The image of Leon stroking his length too while thinking of you, made your mind completely blank. You’re so lost in the moment, that you missed the timing when he thrusted his hard member into you. “You’re always.. so tight..” Leon groaned against your neck, kissing the soft skin gently while he pounded into your wet core. You clung at his neck, pulling him closer to feel the warmth of his body. His scent invaded your nostrils and you closed your eyes, letting yourself drowning into the ecstasy he gave you. Leon moaned your name over and over again, while his thrusts became almost brutal, desperate. He was so gentle at first but now he enjoyed getting rough on you sometimes.

His cock twitched around your walls, making you notice that he was close. You pressed your legs together to squeeze him even more and sending him over the edge. “Oh holy fuck..” Leon cursed and spilled his seed deep into your wanting womb. You reached your climax aswell while Leon rode off his own climax and thrusted into you now more calm and gentle.

When he pulled out of you, you both were panting, heads leaning against each other. You smiled sweetly at him, while he had his dorky cheeky grin. He lift his arm to caress your cheek, pulling you into a loving kiss.

“I love you, you know that?” he asked between his peppering kisses on your lips and chin. You giggled at the tickling feeling of his facial hair on your hot skin. “I know. And I love you too, Leon.”

“I know, I heard your desperate moans, dear.”

#pokemon leon #champion leon #Leon Imagines #Pokemon Leon Imagines #Leon Pokemon #Leon x reader #pokemon leon x reader #Champion Leon x Reader #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon shsw #pokemon #pkmn #Leon

104 notes · View notes

mayquita · 5 years ago

Text

The Art of (Fake)Dating - (2/5)

@shardminds , as promised, here’s the second part of your gift. Thank you all for your comments, notes, likes, kudos and reviews. Also, as usual in me, what at first was going to be a short scene has become a section of over a thousand words, so I had to add one more part. Since my inspiration continues, I plan to post the third part in a couple of days :)

Apologies in advance because there will probably be around a million mistakes. I hope you like it despite that :)

Thanks to @cssecretsanta2k19 for organizing the event and making sure everything worked correctly.

Summary: When Emma agrees to be Killian’s fake girlfriend she expects it to be a one-time thing. However, and despite getting an enemy in the form of an overprotective brother, she ends up becoming an expert in the art of fake dating even though she can’t stand her fake boyfriend, at least at the beginning.

Ao3 / FFNet / Part 1

The Art of (Fake) Dating - Part 2

To Emma's surprise, dinner wasn't a total disaster. She was received quite warmly by the whole family and everyone behaved in a civilized manner. Killian had been right, Elsa, his sister-in-law, seemed like a kind person, and his four-year-old twin nephews were indeed adorable.

Before entering the house and being introduced, Emma had already put on her imaginary protective shell, and felt ready to face any sharp comment or lecture that Killian's brother might have prepared for her. She had dealt with worse, no doubt. However, as the evening progressed Emma was able to relax a little, due in part to the fact that all the family members were making great efforts to have lively conversations. Anna, Elsa's sister, seemed a natural in that regard, as she barely kept her mouth shut except to chew her food. The kids were also a constant source of distractions and entertainment.

The tension in the atmosphere was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, though. Even so, Emma was immediately attracted to the strange dynamics of Killian's family so she couldn't help but carefully observe everyone's behavior around the table.

She watched as any attempt by Elsa to approach Killian was met with a guarded attitude from her fake boyfriend, which surprised Emma since Elsa seemed to try hard to engage him in all kinds of conversations and seemed especially interested in knowing everything about their life back in Storybrooke.

Killian kept that kind of reserved stance almost continuously, with his shoulders tensed up, a fake half-smile adorning his lips and his eyebrows slightly furrowed. It was as if he also wore a protective shield, as if he were reluctant to reveal anything about him or his lifestyle.

Killian's features only softened with his nephews or when he addressed Emma, which happened quite often, as part of his role as a fake boyfriend, she supposed.

As for their performance, they seemed quite convincing. Emma was good at studying people through their body language, due to her former profession as a bail bond person and, luckily for her, this family was quite easy to read. No one showed signs of suspecting anything about their farce. Even so, they did carry out some timid public displays of affection that basically consisted of Killian placing his arm around her shoulders in a protective attitude, although she wasn't sure about who he intended to protect, her from any possible attack by his brother or himself.

In fact, Emma noticed how his displays of affection increased each time Killian interacted with his brother. He might have done it unconsciously, but it was on these occasions when he placed his arm on the back of her seat, casually brushing her hair or giving a slight squeeze to her shoulder while his fake smile transformed into a thin line.

Liam also wore a grim expression most of the time. Unlike his wife, he made no effort to get close to Killian and even less to address Emma. He just threw a handful of scathing comments here and there and he occasionally gave her sidelong glances charged with disapproval.

At the moment when Killian offered to prepare coffees after dinner, Emma saw her opportunity to inquire a little more about this strange family dynamic, so she also volunteered to help him. Emma wasn't sure how he would take her offer when it seemed clear that he had used the coffee excuse to escape for a while from the tension around him. Luckily, the smile of gratitude he offered her dispelled all her doubts.

Emma still wasn't sure if she liked this new, more vulnerable version of Killian. In a way, that made him more human, and, although it might seem contradictory, more accessible, so she felt confident enough to approach the subject at the time they found themselves in the kitchen shelter.

"Whoa! So much tension over there." She mumbled, earning a quiet chuckle from him, his features relaxing immediately.

"I already warned you, Swan, didn't I?" The way he raised an eyebrow suggestively did things to her but she opted to ignore it. It was as if there had been a kind of magical effect, since, by the time they had disappeared from the living room, Killian had transformed into the cocky guy she knew, leaving behind the stormy expression he had worn throughout the entire evening.

"So, you were right about Elsa and the kids. But I don't get it, you seem quite tense when you talk to her."

Killian did not answer immediately, merely carrying out his coffee-making task. Nor did the tension seem to have completely abandoned him, a twitching muscle in his jaw betrayed him. Still, when he looked back at her, the ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

"It's just that my beloved sister-in-law continues to insist on knowing all the details about my life back in Storybrooke, information that could be used against me for the asshole I have for a brother."

"But she seems genuinely interested." Emma insisted, not understanding the logic of his statement.

"I know love, but I'd rather not take a chance."

They continued to work in silence, although Emma seemed unable to take her eyes off him for more than two seconds. He was especially hot today, that kind of sulky expression suiting him quite well. Besides, he was too close, causing her to feel not only the warmth emanating from him, but the hint of his scent. The moment he placed his hand in the small of her back to reach something in the upper compartment of the cupboard she felt a kind of electric shock running through her body. Get a grip, Emma!

"By the way, you did so well, Swan. I knew it was a good idea to bring you here since at least Liam has had the decency to behave correctly most of the time."

Great, now he was complimenting her and offering her one of his trademark disarming smiles. And he was too close. And had his eyes always been so blue?

This new direction in their relationship was causing a spiral of emotions swirling inside her, to the point that she wasn't sure how to act, so she decided to let her instinct take control. She flirted back.

"Uhm, we'll see. The night is not over yet and I've already caught some glances of disapproval from your brother towards me. But don't worry, I can handle it." She lowered her voice and winked at him before grabbing one of the trays and heading back towards the living room.

While walking, she couldn't prevent a smile of self-confidence from appearing on her face, while a sense of pride settled in her stomach.

Her progress was short, though. She hadn't even reached the door when she noticed Killian's presence right behind her, causing her to slow down when she felt his warm breath caressing her ear while whispering, "I didn't doubt for a moment that you could handle it, love. I chose you for a reason, after all."

This time it was Killian who winked at her before walking past her. The last thing Emma saw before he disappeared through the door was a smirk she wanted to erase with her own lips.

Dammit!

They were going to share a bedroom, of course. Emma looked closely at the assigned accommodation, taking advantage that Killian was busy with his baggage. At least the bed was a considerable size, so the chances of accidental touches under the sheets were limited. She was no longer sure that was a positive aspect, though.

After letting out a quiet sigh, she grabbed her bag of toiletries and pajamas and headed for the bathroom, located outside the room, next door. She needed a moment of privacy to try to pull herself together, reminding herself as she watched her reflection in the mirror that she really couldn't stand Killian, that she had her reasons for her dislike towards him and that it wasn't a big deal to literally sleep with him. Still, if she took more time than necessary in her beauty routines before going to sleep, only she would know.

When Emma returned to the bedroom, she found that Killian had already chosen his side of the bed. He had settled on the left side with his back against the headboard and seemed focused on the screen of his phone, so much that he acknowledged her arrival with barely a brief glance at her. He was wearing flannel pajama pants and a tank top that exposed the toned muscles of his arms. No big deal at all.

Emma also realized that he had removed his prosthesis. It wasn't the first time she had seen him without it, although on those previous occasions he was in a much more vulnerable position. Still, she took it as a good sign. At least he was comfortable enough around her not to feel the need to use it, right?

Emma's gaze shifted for a moment to the armchair located in a corner. The mere sight of that piece of furniture caused a wave of annoyance to wash over her. Killian had directly assumed that they would share a bed, he hadn't even bothered to show certain chivalry by offering to sleep somewhere else. Even worse, he might have assumed that she would be the one to sleep in the armchair.

What's wrong with me? Emma walked across the bedroom to her travel bag to put her clothes inside while she mentally recriminated herself for the mixed feelings dancing inside her. A few minutes before the two of them were flirting openly not only in front of his family but also privately and now she felt that her negative thoughts were emerging taking control.

Deep down, Emma was aware that she was actually afraid of rejection. She couldn't deny that she wanted him, badly. But it seemed that the feeling wasn't reciprocal. Killian had barely noticed her when she had entered the room, for God's sake! She had no choice but to resign herself and continue playing along with the farce.

Her escalation of thoughts was interrupted with a sound coming from the bed. When she turned her head she found that Killian had walked to the foot of the bed and was pushing it so that the headboard hit the wall.

"What the hell..."

Her words were cut off by Kilian who looked at her as he put his index finger on his lips. "Shush! We don't want to spoil the performance, do we?" His words came in a whisper as he continued his task.

"What the hell are you doing?" She whispered back as she approached him, watching his movements through her narrowed eyes.

"Isn't it obvious, Swan?" He muttered as he waved his eyebrows at her in a somewhat lascivious way. As if to prove his point he vigorously pushed the bed again, hitting the wall.

Something was definitely not working well in her brain, because she needed several seconds to process what was really happening. When she finally realized it, her eyes widened with surprise and then she pursed her lips before addressed him again.

"The bedroom on the other side is your brother's, isn't it?" He didn't even bother to answer, he simply pushed the bed against the wall one more time. "What are you, seven?"

"I'm simply giving him an actual reason to make him pissed off."

She couldn't believe what was happening, so she just stood there observing in disbelief with her arms crossed over her chest, unable to decide if his act was a brilliant plan or the most ridiculous idea. One thing was clear, he didn't even seem to have contemplated the possibility of not faking the act or even asking her to contribute by adding some other (human) sounds to make the performance more credible. Somehow the idea that he hadn't counted on her bothered her more than it should.

After one last push, he seemed satisfied, a smile of triumph appeared on his face as he returned to the bed. Only then did he seem to notice her presence, as he patted the empty side of the bed while gesturing with his head inviting her to accompany him. "Come on, love. We've got tired enough, it's time to rest."

Emma rolled her eyes before showing her middle finger up in a childish gesture, but after all, she just witnessed the performance of a naughty boy instead of the one of a grown-ass man, so she was just getting at his level.

The laugh that he released managed to annoy her even more, so, continuing with her childish pattern, she threw a cushion to his face, which he caught before reaching its target, while his laugh became even louder.

"You're an idiot, you know it, don't you?" She mumbled before getting into bed and lying on one side, turning her back on him. Two seconds later she rolled again, facing him. "Just for your interest, in case Liam makes any reference to our performance," she placed air quotes around the last two words and paused deliberately before continuing, "I intend to tell him that it was really you who felt the need to take manual care of your own businesses. Good night."

The last thing she saw before rolling back to her previous position and switching off the light on her bedside table was how his grin disappeared from his face.

"It's not funny, Swan." He grumbled, but she didn't even bother to reply. Luckily, he couldn't see her face, because otherwise, he would have met a huge smirk and an expression of triumph.

Silence finally fell into the bedroom and that's when Emma allowed herself to relax a little. That sensation barely lasted, though, since she was immediately hyperaware of Killian's presence beside her, even though he had made sure to maintain a considerable space between them.

A soft tingling spread across her skin at the possibility of any accidental touch, but she remained still, noting how he kept moving on the other side of the bed, as if he didn't find a comfortable position.

Her heart began beating frantically in her chest as her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Killian seemed to settle under the covers, ceasing any movement. Just when a feeling of disappointment gripped her, she heard his voice coming in a barely audible whisper and causing a chill to run down her spine. "Thank you for helping me, Swan. Sleep well."

All her previous anger vanished after hearing his words, being replaced by a deeper and also more dangerous feeling. In an attempt to keep her emotions at bay, she closed her eyes stubbornly, praying that the sleep would come soon, because otherwise, she didn't know if she would be able to control her desire to turn around and search for his lips.

It wasn't going to be so easy to fall asleep, Emma was aware of that, but she tried to leave her mind blank as she wrapped herself up to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. It was then that she realized something, causing her eyes to widen again. She had completely forgotten to take off her contacts, and even worse, she had left both the glasses and the cleansing solution in the damn bathroom.

Letting out a huff of annoyance, she removed the sheets and sat up while muttering, "I need to use the bathroom."

"Again?"

"Yes, Jones, again. Don't bother waiting for me awake, I guess you're exhausted after your previous performance." She snapped at him before leaving the room without looking back.

Once again, Emma took advantage of the privacy of the bathroom to calm her inner turmoil. She didn't even know why she had been so upset with Killian after his smart childishness. In other circumstances, she would have even offered to cooperate, especially if that meant bothering Liam. She might not know the guy enough but she had already decided that she hated him even more than she hated Killian even though she barely had any detail about their common backstory.

Emma took her time to take off her contacts and then brushed her hair again and made sure there were no traces of makeup left on her face. After taking a deep breath and let it out slowly, she finally felt determined enough to return to their bedroom.

Luck wasn't on her side tonight, though. As soon as she opened the bathroom door she came face to face with Liam, who looked like he had been waiting for her. Her surprise was such that she let out a little yelp as she put her hand to her chest in an attempt to calm her agitated heart.

"My apologies, lass." Both his tone and his expression indicated that he didn't feel sorry at all. "I couldn't sleep due to an inexplicable noise in my bedroom, so I decided to go down to the kitchen and prepare something to drink. Then I saw the light coming from the bathroom and... here we are."

Fuck! Emma hoped the gloom in the hallway was enough to hide the blush that had surely appeared on her cheeks. "I... I forgot to take off my contacts." She replied while pointing at her glasses. Luckily, she managed to maintain a neutral enough tone. "But it's late, so it will be better if I..."

"In fact, I thought that since you and I have barely had the opportunity to talk before, now that we're alone it would be a good time to have a little conversation. Would you like some tea?"

No.

Go back to the bedroom.

"I prefer hot chocolate." The words came out of her mouth without her having a chance to stop them. Seriously, what was wrong with her today?

"Hot chocolate will be." Emma didn't like at all the grin that appeared on Liam's face, to the point that she was tempted to change her mind and run away to hide behind the door of her bedroom. She was an adult woman, though, so it was better for her to behave in a mature way so that at least she wouldn't contribute to making Liam's impression of her even worse. For that reason, when he stepped aside reaching up his arm to point the way, she had no choice but to accept. "After you, lass."

So she was going to receive a lecture. As Emma walked down the stairs to the kitchen she felt like the girl that had been sent to the principal's office after committing mischief. Her stomach tightened into knots but she felt a renewed energy spreading through her body. She might be about to get a scolding, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him. Like Killian, if she had to resort to somewhat extreme measures to annoy Liam, she wasn't going to hesitate to use them. They were a team for a reason, right? A Fake one, but a team after all.

Thanks for reading :)

Happy New Year!!

#cs ff #captain swan #csss #cssecretsanta2k19 #mayquita writes #my cs writings #the art of (fake)dating #cs au

60 notes · View notes