#walking around this place while the your name soundtrack plays in the background >> | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mischiefandmedicine · 9 months ago

Text

Very Full - Chapter 2: Hear Me

Summary: An enchanting voice, carrying across dimensions, beckons Loki to a karaoke bar of all places, where a captivating song leads him to meet Saoirse's mother. Her mysterious departure leaves him yearning for more, igniting a quest that promises to intertwine their destinies.

Word Count: 4,137 words.

Chapter Warnings: Minor violence (Loki gets slapped).

Soundtrack Link

This Chapter's Inspirational Music: Main character sings Hear Me by Kelly Clarkson, but imagine the other songs playing in the background afterwards.

Hear Me by Kelly Clarkson

Dark Horse by Katy Perry

Break My Heart by Dua Lipa

Into You by Ariana Grande

---

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

---

Loki settled into the deep green armchair, flitting his expansive cloak of interwoven timelines behind him, fixing his gaze on the expanse of space sprawling around them. With a measured breath, he began, his voice carrying the weight of ages past, each word meticulously chosen to weave a tapestry of truth and longing. “Once, in the epoch before the multiverse bloomed into its myriad of existences, there sat a realm of unparalleled splendor. A place where the convergence of cosmic energies birthed wonders beyond mortal comprehension. It was a world steeped in the ethereal embrace of magic, where the veils between the realms were thin, and destinies intertwined like the dancing tendrils of the great Yggdrasil itself.”

His gaze shifted, locking onto Saoirse’s eyes, her face displaying a mélange of skepticism and lingering pain. “In that realm, nestled amidst the splendor of Asgard, lived a being of immeasurable complexity. A god, known to many as Loki. A name ensconced in tales of trickery ambition, and the eternal dance between chaos and order.”

As Loki paused for effect in his story, Saoirse rolled her eyes with a sigh, crossing her arms angrily. “Just get on with it…”

Loki laughed, shaking his head knowingly, he let Saoirse’s words hang in the air before continuing, “As I was saying, within the intricate tapestries of my existence, lies a thread that transcends the bounds of divine whims and cosmic happenstance. It is a thread spun from the fiber of love, sacrifice, and enduring legacy…of Asgard…of Midgard…of her…”

Loki’s expression softened, memories flickering across his mind like the fragments of an unfinished mosaic. He was too eager to tell this story but wanted his daughter to revel in the beauty of it. It was his favorite story. One that had played in his mind repeatedly after he had returned to his throne.

“Your mother, a woman of unfathomable grace and strength, walked a path entwined with mine. Her presence in my life, Saoirse, altered the very fabric of my being,” a tinge of sorrow and remorse echoed in his voice as he continued.

“Our story begins with yours truly sitting on that throne there,” he turned to point to the gilded throne high up above the pair. “I had destroyed the loom that was responsible for keeping the strands of time from spiraling out of control since the dawn of…well…time,” he laughed nervously.

“I sat upon my throne, adrift on the sea of thoughts of friends lost – people who had helped shape me into the god I was meant to be – wondering if this was all I would ever be. Questioning if there would be a time when I could live for myself again. I had sacrificed everything to make sure all timelines would endure, ultimately saving countless lives in the process.”

Loki paused to wipe a tear from his eye, while Saoirse looked on in bewilderment. All she had understood about her father were his mischievous and trickster ways. She had not heard of him becoming emotional like this. Before she could say a word to fill the silence, Loki huffed out a single laugh before huskily resuming his story.

“Before I knew it, I had grown weary from my journey. It had, after all, taken centuries to overcome the threat of all existence nearly being destroyed. I closed my eyes, if only for a moment before my dreams were taken over by the sound of her sweet voice singing to me across the expanses,” Loki closed his eyes, feeling his powers pulling him back to the moment when he could hear her voice calling out to him.

*****

It was like a siren song calling out to him on the throne. He could hear the song calling out to him in his dreams. The words echoed through his ears, as they hypnotized the god on the throne at the end of time, weary from his travels to this moment.

You’ve gotta be out there, You’ve gotta be somewhere, Wherever you are, I’m waiting. ‘Cause there are these nights when I sing myself to sleep. And I’m hoping my dreams bring you close to me, Are you listening?

Loki found himself poised at the threshold between realities, the vast tapestry of timelines shimmering around him like iridescent threads. He concentrated on the faint, enchanting melody, a haunting voice that resonated across the cosmic expanse. With a calculated flicker of his cosmic powers, he projected himself out into the cosmos, navigating the intricate web of realities; timelines that seemingly called his name as he followed the tantalizing echo of the song that drew him in.

Hear me, I’m crying out, I’m ready now. Turn my world upside down, find me. I’m lost inside the crowd, it’s getting loud, I need you to see, I’m screaming for you to please, Hear me. Can you hear me?

In a kaleidoscope of lights and swirling energies, Loki phased through realities, guided solely by the captivating call of the woman’s voice. The ethereal echoes of the words reverberated through the countless timelines, seeming to overtake an entire branch of the makeshift Yggdrasil of intertwined realities. Her voice was a beacon that had summoned Loki across the universe. He had to find who had such power over him.

Finally, his projection emerged in a reality unlike that of his throne at the end of time, finding himself inside a vibrant, bustling tavern that seemed a universe away from his cosmic throne. The ambiance was alive with the spirited chatter of patrons, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversations. Yet amidst the indistinct chatter, Loki’s focus honed in on the stage, where a lone figure stood, bathed in the glow of stage lights. She exuded grace and otherworldly charm as she sang, her voice carrying a poignant, yet powerful rendition of a song Loki had not heard before.

I used to be scared of letting someone in, But it gets so lonely being on my own. No one to talk to. No one to hold me. I’m not always strong, oh I need you here, Are you listening?

Loki found himself ensnared, not by the chaotic revelry of the bar, but by the mesmerizing woman’s voice. He stood at the periphery, his emerald eyes fixated on the singer, studying her every curve, captivated by her impassioned performance. He watched as she swayed in time with the music, bare feet, and bare legs leading up to a dark leather skirt, hugging her hips effortlessly. Her torso was adorned with a dark green short-sleeved shirt scrawled with the words “Beautiful Disaster” in gold lettering. Her mocha skin glistened in the stage light as her wavy black hair framed her face, kissing her shoulders, and swept down her frame.

The song itself carried a depth that struck Loki to the very core of his existence, stirring something ancient and profound within him. The lyrics seemed to echo sentiments he had long forgotten, evoking memories buried beneath layers of time and duty. He thought of Sylvie and how she had opened his heart to the possibility of love before spurning his advances. Ultimately it was she who had helped him to see that he could be more than just the god of mischief. Here and now, this woman had captured his very being…with a song.

I’m restless and wild, I fall but I try, I need someone to understand. Can you hear me? I’m lost in my thoughts, And baby, I’ve fought for all that I’ve got. Can you hear me?

As the song reached its crescendo, Loki felt an inexplicable resonance with the woman on the stage. Her voice had transcended the realm of mere sound, weaving a spell that seemed to echo through the dimensions, beckoning him closer. With an enigmatic smile playing on his lips, Loki stepped forward, making his way through the patrons toward the stage. His movement slow and deliberate, he was guided by an inexplicable pull toward the singer whose voice echoed a tale that continued to enchant him.

Staring up at the stage, Loki fixed his gaze upon this mysterious woman who had, by now, noticed his presence and locked eyes with him with a playful smirk as she sang. Intrigue and wonder danced in his eyes as he stood breathless, ensnared by her smile as she reached the climax of the song.

Hear me, hear me, Hear me, can you hear me? Hear me, Hear me, Hear me.

The performance of the song had reached its culmination, the last note lingering in the air as the audience erupted with applause. The woman’s gaze remains fixed on Loki, a glint in her eyes as she blushed and whispered a breathless and exasperated “thank you” into the microphone before taking a playful bow to cheers from the patrons surrounding the tavern.

The woman walked towards Loki, placing a hand on his shoulder as she alighted from the stage, moving lithely, her presence commanding yet graceful. Landing in front of Loki with a barely audible thud, she stood before him at a height that contrasted her powerful voice, her stature defying expectations. The top of her head barely reached his collarbone, causing her to look up at him as she steadied herself, bare feet contacting the tavern’s dark hardwood flooring.

Loki, momentarily taken aback, could not help but voice his surprise, “Where’s the rest of you?” he blurted out, his eyebrows arching in puzzlement. Though his question demonstrated his fascination, it too echoed a subtle admittance of his unexpected curiosity about this hypnotizing woman who, despite her petite frame, had possessed such a captivating aura and voice summoned him from across the dimensions.

The woman laughed heartily, grinning at the bizarre question, “What do you mean, ‘where’s the rest of you?’” she said, mocking Loki’s voice the best she could.

Loki’s eyes glint mischievously as he flashes a playful smirk. “Oh, my apologies. I just didn’t expect the voice of a Valkyrie to come from someone who needs a booster seat,” he quipped, his voice laden with both a teasing jest and a hint of seriousness as he eyed the woman before him.

“Watch it, buddy, I’ve been told I pack quite the punch, even in a small package,” she replied, her voice carrying both amusement and a touch of mystery. Her response was measured, revealing nothing of herself, yet inviting a still-stricken Loki to comment further.

Loki’s playful smirk lingered, his eyes glinting in the light of the tavern. “Ah, that explains it, you are a Valkyrie in compact form. Quite intriguing,” he remarked, his voice laden with playful sarcasm as he assessed her further. “You almost had me fooled there for a moment. I thought your kind had been all but extinct?” His words carried a teasing cadence, yet the underlying curiosity hinted at an interest in uncovering more about this mysterious woman.

The woman’s laughter rang again through the tavern, a sound that seemed to echo with both amusement and a touch of secrecy. “What is a Valkyrie?” she replied with a giggle, her gaze meeting Loki’s with a curious twinkle in her eye. “You have an odd sense of humor, stranger.” Her response was perplexing, leaving Loki momentarily taken aback by the seemingly feigned ignorance but intrigued by her banter.

Loki’s smirk grew wider, reveling in the teasing exchange. “A Valkyrie,” he began, assuming an air of grandiosity, “In the tales of old, Valkyries were fierce warriors, guardians of Asgard, chosen by the All-Father, Odin, himself to escort the fallen warriors to Valhalla. Strong, skilled, and cunning, they commanded respect, even among the gods.” His words were laced with a hint of theatricality, painting a vivid image of the mythical beings from Asgardian lore.

The woman tilted her head, eyes playing at an innocent expression with a smile, “Hmmm, that sounds impressive,” she responded with a pinch of sarcasm dancing in her voice. “But I hate to burst your bubble, I’m not a Valkyrie. I’m just a regular ol’ human being,” she added, her tone carrying a spirited yet assertive demeanor.

Loki chuckled, astonished by her response, “A human being, you say? Well, that would certainly explain the lack of winged steed and armor,” he quipped, a glint of amusement twinkling in his eyes, still in disbelief. “But forgive me, you do have a certain…otherworldly quality about you. A human with such a captivating voice is quite the rarity.”

With a blush taking over her face, the woman chuckled softly, the sound like music to Loki’s ears, “You’re quite the charmer, but alas,” she mocked his accent, “I’m just your average karaoke bar singer, nothing more, nothing less.”

Pulling her away from the stage so that she might hear him better, Loki leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “Oh, come now, don’t sell yourself short. I don’t know what a karaoke bar is, but you certainly have all its patrons under your spell,” he paused, voice growing deeper as he gestured to their surroundings. “It’s rather perplexing, and I’m fond of mysteries,” he teased.

The woman grinned, speechless, eyeing Loki carefully.

“A human with such an enticing voice and demeanor like yours might have a few tricks up her sleeve,” Loki continued.

The woman pivoted to walk past Loki with a smile, “You think you’ve figured me out?” she shrugged knowing that Loki was following close behind her as she pushed her way through the crowd, “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you again, but I’m just a girl who enjoys a good song, a good drink, and…,” she paused to look Loki up and down over her shoulder, “a good conversation.”

Intrigued by this woman, Loki matched her pace, reveling in the challenge that this human presented with her snarky demeanor and small stature. He leaned in close to her ear, “A good conversation, you say?” Loki echoed her words, allowing his voice to mimic her playful tone and accept the challenge she presented. “Well then, allow me to introduce myself properly.”

He halted her progress gently, grabbing her by the arm and turning her to face him, his gaze holding hers in a momentary pause as she shrugged his hand off her with a glare. “I am Loki,” he declared theatrically, a smirk playing upon his lips as he bowed slightly, his coat draping around him adding to the dramatic flair.

“I know who you are,” she said raising an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at her lips before smacking him square across the face.

The sting of her hand against his cheek took him by surprise, a sharp crack resounding through the bustling tavern. He recoiled slightly, more from the shock of her action than the actual impact. His hand rose to his cheek, rubbing the spot where her slap had landed, more amused than offended.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Loki remarked, his voice tinged with genuine surprise and an ounce of admiration in it. He glanced at her half in amusement and half something else. “The absolute audacity.”

The woman stood there, her expression a mix of amusement and defiance, indicating that she was, in fact, toying with the god who was now towering over her silently as they approached an empty table in the corner. “I do hope that gets your attention,” she said, the hint of a smirk curling at the corners of her lips. “Do not touch me again unless I ask you to,” she pointed a finger at him scolding.

Loki, recovering from the shock, despite the sting of her hand lingering, could not help but chuckle. “As you wish,” he took a step back, pulling a chair out for her. “A swift introduction, but I believe we might have skipped a fundamental step,” he said as he looked at her, taking a seat across from her. “I’ve presented myself, yet the mystery of your name still eludes me. Might I have the pleasure of knowing the name of the woman who wields both voice and palm with such finesse against me?”

The woman’s smirk softened to a faint smile as she perched her face in her hands, regarding him from across the table. “And what would a name do for you, Loki?” she quipped, playing along with their alluring exchange.

“Names hold power and significance. They are keys that unlock hidden doors and open realms of possibility,” Loki replied with a smile, his voice carrying a charm that seemed almost impossible to resist.

The woman chuckled lightly, eyes questioning the very nature of the conversation, the air between them seemingly heating up. “Melara,” she said, her voice floating with a playful, yet guarded tone, leaving Loki to wonder if it was truly her name or another layer to the enigma she seemed to be.

“Melara,” Loki echoed, savoring the name as if it held a secret within its syllables. “A pleasure, indeed,” he said with a bow of his head, acknowledging her with an exaggerated flourish of his hand.

Intrigued by her boldness and the hint of light-heartedness that underscored her actions, Loki leaned back in his chair, his expression changing to amusement and curiosity as he watched her closely, studying every feature of her face.

“And how exactly do you know of me, Melara?” Loki inquired, a quirk of his lips betraying his interest in her response.

Melara’s gaze met Loki’s with a hint of recognition and a trace of wariness, though she remained composed and unfazed in his presence. With a tone that conveyed acknowledgment rather than trepidation, she spoke, her words laced with curiosity of her own. “I’ve heard tales whispered in corners about a certain someone causing quite the stir in New York,” Melara remarked, her voice carrying a blend of intrigue and calculated neutrality. “I have even heard of someone like you visiting here in Wisconsin a few times, once when I was a little girl. Seems like mischief follows you wherever you go, doesn’t it?”

“Wisconsin? Is that what you call this realm?” Loki asked, puzzled.

Melara laughed emphatically at his question, pausing to gaze into his eyes before laughing again. “No, it’s a state. For someone who was supposed to take over everything here, you sure are clueless, aren’t you?” she giggled.

Loki’s expression shifted subtly, a faint shadow passing over his features, addressing her awareness of his past exploits. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes reflecting admiration for the joke at his expense. “Ah, yes, that version of me did indeed relish in causing such commotion,” he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment, indicating a change from that brash persona. “But I must confess, I’ve evolved since then. Times change, people change…even gods,” Loki added with a charming smirk, attempting to deflect from his former self, leaning into thoughts of his more recent deeds, particularly following his ascension to the gilded throne at the end of time.

As the dimly lit tavern hummed with the lively chatter and the faint scent of liquor lingered in the air, Melara and Loki had unknowingly found themselves entangled in a conversation that felt like a dance – one filled with intrigue, charm, and the enticing allure of the unexpected. Loki’s revelations about his transformation since the chaos of New York had woven a captivating narrative, his words carrying the weight of reflection and change. In the depths of his emerald-green eyes, she saw traces of a past laden with hurt and mischief, a tumultuous history teeming with complexities the god himself was attempting to unravel as they sat.

“Change is a curious thing,” Melara remarked, her voice threaded with understanding and an insatiable curiosity for the mysterious god seated across from her. “Many claim to embrace it, but few truly do.” Her words hung in the air, a contemplative pause in the midst of their vibrant exchange.

She observed the subtle changes in Loki’s demeanor – the nuances in his voice, the fraction of vulnerability peeking through his charismatic façade. There was a momentary glimpse of acknowledgment in his gaze, a silent understanding. It was as though they were sharing fragments of their past selves without explicitly uttering a word. Together they were navigating the labyrinth of change as they sat across from each other in the dimly lit tavern, conversation deeper than most strangers would ever share.

“Indeed,” Loki replied, his past experiences coloring his voice with wisdom forged through countless trials and the passage of years he had not even begun to fathom. “Our experiences can reshape us in unforeseen ways.”

Their conversation flowed like a river meandering through uncharted lands, each exchange adding layers of complexity to their connection as they sat, the indistinct background chatter melting away as they spoke. With each shared word and exchanged glance, the boundary between intrigue and caution blurred – a tantalizing edge teetering on the brink of unspoken truths and the allure of the unknown.

As the hours slipped away into the embrace of the night, Melara sensed the subtle shift in the atmosphere of their interaction. The magnetic pull of Loki’s charisma intertwined with the intoxicating atmosphere – or perhaps that of the drinks she had consumed lost in Loki’s stories – wove a spell that beckoned to the depths of her soul.

Yet, amidst the alluring mystique of the moment, a quiet unease nestled in the recesses of Melara’s thoughts – a reminder of vulnerability that lay beneath the surface of enchantment. It was the duality of fascination and caution that whispered the danger in her ear, urging her to tread lightly in the captivating presence of the god of mischief himself.

Sensing the subtle shift in the air, Melara made a decision wrapped in a smile tinged with finality. As Loki spoke, with a graceful excuse and a gaze reflecting the desire for one more moment hearing his voice, Melara stood, collected her belongings – which included the shoes she had removed earlier – and departed quickly. Loki watched her, astonished, as the woman ran out of the tavern, leaving the promise of an unfinished tale that lingered in the tavern’s hushed whispers.

Though he could have let the night end there, and he might even have used magic to follow her, Loki instead stood to run after Melara. He exited onto the street, and she was nowhere to be found. Just as quickly as this woman had entered his existence, so too had she vanished without a trace. For a human, she certainly had cast a spell on him so effortlessly and then just as easily eluded him, besting him before he had even known that a game was afoot.

Loki looked up at the night sky, letting out a silent plea to find this Melara again, if only for one moment. He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, reopening them to find that he was back on the throne at the end of time. No longer seeing through the eyes of his makeshift avatar, he was already longing for the presence of someone he had just barely met. He knew this feeling and it ate at him.

Isolating the strand of time that he had just returned from, he glanced at the branches running through his fingers. He noted that the strand glowed much brighter than the others surrounding it. Playing with the strand as it danced through his fingers, Loki noted how it was stronger and thicker than the other timelines. Should anyone have the strength to find themselves here, fighting to destroy the realities he protected, this one would surely take much more strength than others to break off. That fact caused the curiosity within him to surge. There had to be a way to find her again.

But first, he had to rebuild his strength. It had taken so much power within him to cast a projection of himself that could interact with Melara’s timeline all while his corporeal body continued to wield the strands of time and keep them alive, the task he had taken on for which he had sacrificed so much. Now this human with the power to summon him with a song threatened to upend his very existence. She was even wearing his colors when they had met, quite the cosmic coincidence. She was just as her shirt said, a beautiful disaster.

----

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr

#loki masterlist #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki #loki series

11 notes · View notes

leaahhh · 1 year ago

Text

here are some of the songs that soundtracked my summer

maps by the yeah yeah yeahs because i have a secret theory that you must pay attention to the songs that play in the background of a first date because they might be premonitions. it was one of the first that came on the day we met. you were quieter then and everyone knew your name. i overslept far past my welcome that first night and maybe that should have been more telling than the song. maybe i shouldn’t have given myself over so quickly. maybe i should’ve listened to tyler. maybe maybe maybe a lot of things. still, i laughed the whole way home. my kind's your kind, i'll stay the same.

acolyte by slaughter beach, dog because it is one of the only unabashed love songs i can listen to several times in a row without recoiling. it is the best song to wash the dishes to, to walk into the sunset with, to believe in kinder things because of.

group four by massive attack because the man i was seeing at the time played it once at the bar he worked at. i visited several nights a week, it became part of my routine: something to rush around for, a soft place to land. i was mesmerized from the jump, it was all i could fixate on for its full eight minute runtime — the song and also him, flitting back and forth in the dim red light. (i played it for S a few days later, saying it was the best thing i’d ever heard — he didn’t like it, said it was scary.) i remember going into the bathroom and stabilizing myself in the mirror prematurely thinking that i’d miss coming here when it all ended. each time i was met with eyes a little more vacant. a self-fulfilling prophecy. (i’m at a different bar alone now writing this. your coworker spotted me, came over, and reminded me that you’re working there tonight. i shook my head and he said “oops” three times.)

lost angel nights by james blake and alphabet city by the national because they say the quiet part loud. they made me feel justified in my self-abandonment and my masterful act of pretending to be okay with distance and mistreatment. “away from me is just fine.” “if anybody asks, i’ll say you’re coming back.” “i’ll still be here when you come back from space.” it’s not true. it shouldn’t be. but love is this way sometimes.

montana by youth lagoon because J brought it up around 3am at a bar in bushwick and before then i hadn’t thought of it in many, many years. she joked that i should play it next to your ear while you were asleep that night because it might rewire your brain. i laughed hard then but later it made me want to cry. a couple months after, her and i sat on a couch backstage with T before he played a sold out show in brooklyn. i told him i think i might’ve met you just so i could meet her. i do believe it.

this house by japanese breakfast because a friend posted it on her instagram story right after going through a bad breakup and i listened to it eating dinner alone at the neighborhood fast casual korean restaurant staring out the open front door while hot air hit my face and it felt like i was hearing music for the first time. what if one day i don’t know you? what if one day you leave? i could sense it was coming but i came over for a kiss despite it all. i really learned about liquid courage with you and i probably never needed to befriend it so closely. when we were together, my head was always spinning; my nose always stung.

very overdue goodbye by runo plum because my friends all know i prefer dragged out, tortuous storylines over clean-cut endings and rightfully shake their heads. i’ve never gotten over a thing in my life, i tell david in a frankly unhinged voice message that closes with me laughing pathetically, squeezing in at the end that i hope the baby is healthy. it is the last friday night of summer. he says that 26 is the new 18, that i am the one making bad decisions, *i* am not the bad decision. he tells me to stand up for myself. it takes me several weeks but i listen. you made being alone feel so clean. i see you more as a pile-up of my own grief.

to me it was by samia because the guitar gives me goosebumps all over. eliza and i have used the format “everything with ____ is totally fine/don’t freak out, it’s gonna be alright” back and forth all month to punctuate every nervous interaction. we ended up being wrong a lot of the time, there was absolutely reason to freak out. samia was right though; maybe i didn’t need tequila for that. someday i think i’ll look back and remember this as a good time. right now it just hurts.

blue flower by mazzy star because it reminds me of my favorite line in that other song that makes me think about that other guy: i had a fever when i met you; now you make me cool. you were a superstar in your own private movie and i wanted just a minor part. ang is the first person to call it by its name: cruelty. i sweltered and seethed while you slipped away.

street rat by blondshell because i fell back into my old habits as quickly as i’d tried to kick them as soon as you entered the scene. if a doctor put her hands over my liver she would tell me my resentment’s getting…bigger. i felt a lump, hard and unforgiving, growing there. my back tooth turned brown and started rotting the day you disappeared. Z yelped at me from across the street when he saw me and said i’m withering in front of his eyes. it’s a race to see who dies first and you’ve got five years on me. (as i’m typing this, the bar has begun playing sepsis by blondshell. it feels almost evil. it really should’ve taken a whole lot less to turn me off.)

split up by boyish because i could have said all of this word-for-word in that text message. i kept it short for both of our dignities.

aspirin - slight return by tropical fuck storm because christian responded with just the link to that after i ranted for 5 minutes straight about my rapid descent into madness. it was a perfect response. i’m a harrowing rest stop for the men i date. disarming enough to trip them up. not enough to make them stay.

moon song by phoebe bridgers because after three years of knowing it so well, i heard it entirely differently one night and it nearly rendered me immobile. you asked to walk me home but i had to carry you. you pushed me in and now my feet can’t touch the bottom of you. i would have stuck around, by the way. like a dog with a bird at your door.

5 notes · View notes

cr0ftisprocrastinating · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, me again being just perfectly normal as per usual.

I just finished listening to your INCREDIBLE playlist for HDG, and it's... did I already say incredible? It is very incredible. Wildly eclectic in all the best possible ways. I was SO PLEASED to see Babylon Zoo and Kula Shaker in particular! (no Tattva though?? how dare you it was the first guitar solo I ever learned) Anyway it brought back many many memories, so please find them all enclosed lol

I'm on holiday and have LOTS of time to kill, so I have constructed a sectioned, annotated list ❤️

The Best Song

Reef - Place your hands

I think this might be the best song ever made in the 90s? It's lived in my head forever. APPARENTLY the lyrics are "place your hands on my hope" but I have been singing "on my hole" for so fucking long and I will not change now. Those are the real lyrics as far as I’m concerned. Anyway it’s so joyful!

Songs that people don't remember until they hear them

Suede - Beautiful Ones - The chorus definitely rings through Hermione’s head whenever a Slytherin walks into the room lmao

Supergrass - Alright - I feel like I heard this song every single day for a decade

Stone Roses - She Bangs the Drums - Their most pop song and holy shit its good

Ocean Colour Scene - Riverboat song - Not only amazing, but also the intro riff was the soundtrack to TFI Friday with that bastard Chris Evans (the other one)

Corner Shop - Brimful of Asha - Oh god this song hahah. Another one that was played so much it just became the general background noise of life

The Seahorses - Love is the law - I dunno if anyone even remembers John Squire had another band after the Stone Roses, but he did and this track was the only song of theirs I ever heard but it was enough that I remember them

Catatonia - Mulder and Scully - Is there anything more 90s than the X-Files?

The Divine Comedy - Something For the Weekend - Inextricably linked with the above in my head for reasons I can't remember. Maybe just because they're both spooky??

The Mavericks - Dance the Night Away - The happiest break up song ever made?

Juggernauts of the era

I mean these need no explanation so I mostly haven't bothered, but Bittersweet Symphony was literally the sound of an entire generation (and the music video? Just walking down a shitty street, disconnected from everyone around him, singing about hopelessness while dressed all in black, barging uncaringly past people??? IT MEEEE lol). Also a reminder that Things Can Only Get Better was the Labour Party song when everyone thought Tony Blair would save us from the conservatives 🙄

Verve - Bittersweet Symphony

Oasis - Cigarettes & Alcohol

Blur - Girls and Boys

Pulp - Common People - 🎵 Rent a flat above a shop, cut your hair and get a job 🎵

Prince - 1999

DReam - Things Can Only Get Better

Songs I don't think necessarily fit your playlist vibe but I remember fondly anyway

Radiohead - Fake Plastic Trees - One of my faves, it’s so fucking depressing lol. “She lives with a broken man, a cracked polystyrene man” 🥹

Ace of Base - All That She Wants - My dad loved Ace of Base for some reason? Which was weird because he mostly just listened to Pavarotti

4 Non Blondes - What's up - Still find myself regularly singing Heeeeeeeeayyy yeaaaah yeaaah yeahhh constantly

The Shamen - Ebeneezer Goode - E’s are good, gettit??? It’s such a blatant, smirking middle-finger to The Establishment that you’ve got to kinda love it, even if it’s fucking irritating to actually listen to hahah

Shaggy - Oh Carolina

Wet Wet Wet - Goodnight Girl - I did NOT listen to Wet Wet Wet. But my mum did, and this song was in heavy rotation, so I still know all the lyrics

And as this is an ask, I've prepared an actual question! Do you listen to music while you're writing? I can't, I get too distracted by the lyrics and I lose the ability to write words!

OK that's it I'm done have fun! <3 xx

Stars…your name is fitting because you are what?? HEAVENLY.

I will be adding all of these to the playlist tomorrow. Even if they don’t ‘fit the vibe’. The vibe of the playlist is - there is no vibe! It’s like what if Hermione and Theo bought every single weird mashup CD to occupy them in their little copy room, and therefore ANY and ALL bangers are welcomed hehe.

Re: writing to music - it depends on my mood! When I am struggling to get words down I definitely think it helps to focus me in the right ‘tone’. For NETG I used that miserable playlist a LOT lmao. Sometimes I get overexcited though and have to ‘dance around my room’ - a thing I have done my entire life and is not dancing at all, rather me hurtling from one end of my room to another, grinning madly as the made up people in my head do things I want them to.

I always try and convince myself I can listen to music while I study. This is always a lie. One day I’ll grow out of it, but not today

#Croft answers #Hermione grangers diary #asks

1 note · View note

yamag00ps · 4 years ago

Text

the morning after

pairing: yamaguchi x reader

genre: best friends to lovers

contains: even more fluff, slightly suggestive/nsfw

word count: 1.8k

summary: yamaguchi already cannot get enough of you and tries to keep you from leaving your room (as long you'll let him, of course)

note: surprise! I truly did not plan on writing a part 2 to this but I'm happy with the way it turned out. here’s part 1. p.s. I listened to theme of ms. okudera from the your name soundtrack the entire time I wrote this and I highly suggest playing it in the background while reading it b/c I think it makes everything sweeter :-)

You woke to the sweet sound of birds chirping and the feel of an arm draped over your bare waist, his grip just as tight as the first time he held you — as if he was afraid he’d lose you if he lightened his hold on you even a little. A soft orange glow painted the room as you replayed the night before in your head. Evidence of the newfound intimacy you’ve found with your best friend appeared in the purple marks scattered on your neck and your chest, he had a few of his own as well. His head lay on your chest and you smiled at his light snores, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Tilting your head to get a better look at him, you stared in adoration still having a hard time grasping the turn of events. You can’t remember ever feeling so content in your life.

You thought back to last night when you opened your door to find exactly who you were leaving your room for at 3am in the first place. You hadn’t planned on confessing though. You just couldn’t sleep and decided to go bother your best friend. He beat you to it, but he didn’t know that. As if on cue, Yamaguchi stirred and pulled you closer.

“Hi sleepyhead,” you whispered.

“Mmm. What time is it?” he groaned and shifted his position so he could bury his face into your neck, not wanting to face the new day yet.

“Too early. I think we only slept for like 3 hours.” You closed your eyes again and continued to massage his head with one hand, the other hand rubbing the arm wrapped around you.

“Hm, I wonder why,” he mused. You rolled your eyes and lightly smacked his arm. He chuckled and lazily peppered kisses onto your neck.

“Hey! This is your fault Mr. Pacing-outside-of-my-room-at-3am.”

“Shhhhhhhhh,” He put a finger over your lips in a shushing motion. You giggled and lightly bit his finger. “No more biting,” he mumbled, “only I can do that.”

Your laugh turned into a groan as you said, “Actually no, you can’t. No more from you. God, I don’t know how I’m gonna hide these from everyon--”

“Then don’t,” you felt him grin against your neck as his arm returned to its place around your waist.

“Tadashi, I’m serious!” You pouted and smacked his arm again, though you couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto your face.

“So am I!” he laughed and lifted himself up onto his forearms, moving to hover over you. Yamaguchi was never one to be openly possessive over you, but he couldn’t deny the ego-boost he got just from knowing he was the one to leave those marks on you. He finally opened his eyes fully, and boy was he happy he did. Seeing your dreamy state with your bed hair sprawled out onto the pillow felt like a dream. You looked so delicate under him, he was almost afraid to put any of his weight on you.

You rubbed the sides of his arms as he studied you, taking the time to memorize every detail in front of him for future reference (not like he’d ever forget). A blush crept onto your cheeks as his eyes roamed over every one of your features. His eyes trailed from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips, then down to your neck and your chest currently littered with the bruises he left.

“Wait, do they hurt?” he frowned a bit, lightly touching them. You jokingly hissed at his touch, pretending to shy away in pain. The second you noticed the horror on his face you laughed loudly. “I’m just kidding!” you said between laughs while holding his pouty face.

His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and he purposely dropped his entire body on top of yours, earning a grunt from you. You continued to laugh as he hid his face into your neck again, stubbornly biting you again.

“Ow! Tadashi, you’re heavy!” you whined.

“I don’t care. That was mean.”

“If you’re so mad, why are you snuggling into me?” you poked at his sides, still giggling.

He stayed silent but you felt a small smirk against your neck. Your hand found the nape of his neck, playing with his hair again.

“So I can do this.” His hands met both of your sides as he tickled you mercilessly.

Suddenly you were shrieking and laughing, trying to escape his hold.

“No!!!!” You used both arms to still one of his, while his other hand continued tickling you.

“T- Tada-Tadashi p-plea-please! PLEASE,” a mix of your laughter and screams leaving you breathless.

You remained helpless until there was a sudden banging on your door. The both of you froze completely, expecting a noise complaint.

“Oi, oi, oi! Go easy on her Yamaguchi, you dog!!!” Noya yelled. Tanaka and Hinata howled with laughter. You gasped and covered your face with your hands. Yamaguchi blushed furiously as he shook his head and crawled back to hide his face in your neck again, the crook of your neck quickly becoming his new favorite spot.

“Wait, what?!” This time Yaku spoke up, shock evident in his tone. “Yamaguchi, Y/N-san, I hope you were safe!” You rolled your eyes at Hinata’s stupid giggles.

“Dear god,” you whispered, begging for everyone to just go downstairs and mind their business.

Yamaguchi groaned and yelled, “Shut up!” Their laughter only continued and eventually faded. However, the two of you smiled at one another anyway, too smitten to be annoyed for long.

Feeling a grumble in your stomach, you patted his back. “Let’s go eat, bub.” He reluctantly moved off of you, allowing you to get up, put your robe on and open the blinds.

“Wait!” He took your hand and pulled you towards him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You haven’t kissed me once yet this morning,” he pouted. Your heart clenched at his neediness. You loved it.

“Last night wasn’t enough?” you teased and stood between his legs.

“Not at all.”

Holding his head in both of your hands, your lips met his. You smiled into the kiss before deepening it. It started out slowly and gently until his hands began caressing your thighs. His kisses became hungrier and he grabbed both of your legs and pulled you onto his lap. This greediness was so unlike him, but neither of you cared. He was so, so lost in you.

You broke the kiss and sighed, his lips immediately attaching themselves to your jawline and your neck instead.

“‘Dashi, I’m hungry.” Though, you did nothing to stop him. One arm tightly wrapped around your waist while his other hand continued to rub your sides and your legs.

“I am too,” he agreed, breakfast clearly not on his mind. The growl from your stomach spoke for you, throwing you into fits of giggles. He laughed through his nose, still refusing to let you go.

Grabbing his face once again, you pecked his lips and moved back to lock eyes with him. He melted into your touch like putty. He was in a daze. Everything in him was begging you to stay in bed with him all day, not wanting to leave your room, fearing the reality of the world outside of your door. In here, you were all his and there was nothing that could take you from him. He was being selfish, but he felt that he had a right to be after having loved you for ten years now.

As if you could read his mind, you whispered, “Psst, I love you.” He closed his eyes at this, mentally keeping a recording of that for the times he inevitably would have his doubts. You both knew he was not the most confident person in the world, meaning that a relationship with him was going to require a lot of reassurance on your end. You didn’t mind this. The idea of reminding Yamaguchi how much you love him for the rest of your life made your heart swell.

You kissed him again, slowly and sensually before you pulled away and began peppering light kisses all over his face. “And there is much,” kiss “much,” kiss “much,” kiss “more,” kiss “where that came from,” you smirked. Desperate, he latched his lips to yours once more. You mindlessly grinded your hips into his and a groan erupted from his throat. Before his tongue could meet yours, you pulled away, leaving him a whining mess. “Later,” you winked and stood up, swiftly dodging his swipe before he could pull you back in.

“You’re so mean.”

“Maybe Tsukishima’s rubbing off on me,” you snickered. He smiled and rolled his eyes at the mention of his best friend’s name. He wondered if Tsukki already knew about the two of you; he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the house did. Regardless, he could already see the smug look on his face saying I told you so.

Yamaguchi watched you from his place on the edge of the bed, so utterly and deeply in love. As you roamed around your room getting ready for the day, his heart warmed at the domesticity of the scene.

“Tadashi?” You questioned. He was too dazed to realize you asked him a question.

“Let’s use the canoes on the lake today,” you beamed and he returned your smile.

You smiled warmly as he walked up to you, hugging you from behind in front of the mirror. You leaned into him as he lowered his head to press a kiss onto your shoulder.

“This. Everyday.” Another shoulder kiss. “I want this everyday,” he locked eyes with yours through the mirror’s reflection.

You don’t know why that was all the convincing you needed to stay in your room a bit longer. Ignoring how hungry you were, you suddenly turned and crashed your lips into his.

“Okay maybe breakfast can wait,” you mumbled against his lips. Yamaguchi grinned ear to ear and wasted no time picking you up and jumping back into bed with you.

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

Once the two of you finally stepped into the kitchen around half an hour later, you were immediately met with howls and applause. Bokuto reached for a high-five only for his arm to be smacked away as you made your way to the fridge.

“Mannn, who would’ve thought!” Sugawara beamed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, OKAY we got it,” you rolled your eyes, both of you shaking your heads at the relentless teasing. As you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, you looked up just in time to catch Yamaguchi smugly accepting a knuckle punch from Kuroo as he took a seat. You gaped at him across the kitchen island, Kuroo keeling over in laughter. Yamaguchi cheekily winked at you, his newfound confidence exuding off of him.

Deep down, you both knew it was all worth the teasing because the two childhood best friends, notorious for their honesty, were no longer keeping secrets. If everyone knew, then so be it.

All that mattered to Yamaguchi was that you knew that he loved you.

You loving him back was a major bonus.

#yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi fluff #yamaguchi x you #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #childhood friends to lovers #haikyuu suggestive #hq yamaguchi

212 notes · View notes

childrenofthenightt · 3 years ago

Text

spellbound

pairing: jimmy page x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of substances, one (1) swear and a little nsfw at the end

words: 3k

summary: when in new orleans, there’s always something new and exciting to experience. when the boys take shelter in a quaint jazz lounge, they discover a hidden gem.

author’s note: this was an idea born from @timetraveller4 and her lovely mind, so thank you for that ash <3 no beta as always, and i really hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

It was Bonzo’s idea, originally.

The drummer had proposed that the band, accompanied, of course, by the infamous Richard Cole, go to a lounge for the night. See what the music scene was like, outside of their little bubble.

Touring had become almost monotonous, the endless flow of groupies blending into a hazy background of alcohol and drugs. They were in New Orleans for the night, and needed a release from the antics; a release of pressure.

Walking along the cobbled streets, lit only by tall, blinding streetlights, the hunt for the perfect spot continued. Rain twinkled like stardust upon them, landing in their hair and falling down their backs. Jimmy shivered, burrowing further into his coat, a rich navy blue, butterflies made of sparkling sequins fluttering across his shoulders. Cigarette dangling from lush, pink lips, he sighed out a faint white cloud of smoke. His long, dark hair stuck to his face and neck, and a swear burst past his lips. His curls hid emerald eyes from view like a curtain of darkness, and he shook his head.

It’ll be fun, he said. Don’t worry about it, he said. Just relax.

Robert, unaware of the glare the raven-haired guitarist was sporting, strolled ahead, eyes catching on a glowing sign, slick with rain and slightly weather-beaten. The place must be old, he thought.

Sliding closer, he gazed up at it, ocean eyes squinting against the rain that seemed to pour harder, faster, the further they ventured from their hotel. The sign, neon lights blurring into haloes of colour, read ‘The Whispering Wind’. Underneath sat a truly artistic rendition of wispy winds fading into a cloud, the pure ivory of its light cascading across the damp sidewalk like a graceful stream. You could almost feel the warmth and hospitality behind the closed doors, and Robert, whose smile seemed to light the path better than any streetlamp could, turned to his companions.

“This looks like a fine place, doesn't it?”

“Let’s go inside. Better than staying out here,” Jonesy replied, slipping past the singer to grasp at the ornate golden handle of the mahogany door. The bassist pulled the door open and stepped through, and almost immediately, he was enveloped by the comforting heat that seemed to settle into his chilled bones. “Definitely better.”

One by one, the boys stepped into the lounge, smiling as they took in the atmosphere. By the door sat a long bar, maple wood shining in the dim light filtering out from the fixtures hanging from above. Paintings of old Hollywood royalty decorated the taupe walls, while a spotlight affixed to the ceiling bathed the wooden surface of the stage against the wall in faint yellow light. The ruby red of the curtains complimented the exposed maroon brick of the opposite wall, and booths, with scarlet upholstery streaked through with pristine gold, littered the floor.

It was cramped and dimly lit, certainly not fit for the rock gods it sheltered. It was perfect.

Jimmy stood just outside the door, taking a final drag of the cigarette burning between his lips. Glancing around the cove of the entryway, his eyes locked onto a poster plastered across the wet brick of the building. The silhouette of a woman stood against a simple black background, gripping a microphone stand in manicured hands, mystery and class in the subtle curve of her lips. Half of her body was painted in a silvery light, and Jimmy stared at the long crimson dress she was wearing. Tantalizingly long legs are just visible from the slit that splits the gown.

In bold white lettering, a collection of dates are scrawled across its surface, but it’s the name that rippled across the paper that caught his eye.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Hm…”

Must be tonight’s performer, he thought. She’s gorgeous, from what Jimmy could tell; the sultry gaze, the teasing uptick of her rosy lips. The guitarist just hoped that she’s as talented as she is beautiful.

Jimmy let the cigarette in his hands drop to the floor, crushing it under his heel, smoky ash mingling with the scent of petrichor. Grasping the frigid metal of the door handle, the man’s ebony curls flew in every direction as he shivered once more. Slipping through the open door, a wave of comfort rushed over him, warmth settling into his core. The light din of unimportant conversation settled over him like a plush blanket, calming his perpetually racing mind.

Jimmy, spotting his friends at a table far back from the stage, sidled up to the bar, signalling for attention. Ordering his favourite of gin and tonic, the dark-haired guitarist walked back over to join the group, sitting down right next to Robert. The blond glanced over at him and grinned, wrapping a tanned arm around his shoulders.

“It’s a wonder you’ve stopped frowning, Pagey.”

“I was warned I’d get stuck like that, you see,” Jimmy grumbled, the hint of a smile that graced his lips shattering the image of dissatisfaction. “Hasn’t happened yet, but who knows what the future holds.”

“Ah. If it weren’t for your sunny disposition, we’d be in trouble.”

“You—”

The retort died on his tongue, and his mossy green eyes went impossibly wide.

An alluring voice, smooth and rich, rang clear and sharp through the air, charming the patrons of the lounge. The rasping tone made Jimmy’s mind go utterly blank, too entranced to react. Mingling with the droplets that danced from the black grand piano, the performer made his heart pound in his chest like a bass drum. Shaking Robert’s arm off, he turned to face the stage, and promptly forgot how to breathe.

“I put a spell on you, because you're mine. Oh, mine…”

Up on the stage, stood the most beautiful woman Jimmy had ever seen. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, a lovely contrast to the skin of her exposed shoulder. The woman fluttered around the stage, her dress, the colour of a midnight sky, swaying as she moved. She was full to the brim with restrained confidence: she knew she could dazzle the audience, but really, she didn't need to. They were already eating out of her palm.

Jaws hit the floor and every eye in the room was firmly trained on her, and the graceful smirk painting her features served as proof. She was a siren, and the audience her doomed admirers. Jimmy couldn't tear his eyes away through the whole performance, and his distracted clapping as she curtsied alerted his bandmates.

“You okay, Jim? Looks to me like,” Bonzo started, glancing over at Robert with mischief shining in his dark eyes, “You’ve got yourself a little crush, no?”

“I’m… She’s just—”

“Perfect? Gorgeous, talented,” Jonesy interrupted, catching the guitarist’s attention. A smug grin at home on his lips, the bassist shrugged, turning to face his friend. “And… standing right over there.”

Following the path pointed out by Jonesy’s outstretched finger, Jimmy’s eyes locked on a familiar figure, floor-length gown shimmering in the dim light. Stood at the bar, she rested her arms on the surface as she leaned closer to talk to the bartender. Throwing her head back in a genuine laugh, she bares her throat, and Jimmy’s mouth goes dry. The performer takes the drink offered to her, a glass filled with what looks to be whiskey in her manicured hands. A finger lazily traced the rim. The beautiful woman turned towards them then, locking eyes with the guitarist over her shoulder. She winked, and walked away, a ring of condensation on the tabletop all that was left of her.

“Hey, Cole,” Jimmy whispered into the silence that had fallen over the table, and turned to the man, whose only response was a telling smirk. “Would you… Could you, uh…”

“On it, boss.”

In a split second, the man shuffled away from the table, his parting gift a wink at the sable-haired guitarist.

------

As you step on stage, the crowd’s chatter continues, and you smile to yourself. Nights at The Whispering Wind were always like this: the snippets of conversation fading into a symphony of white noise. It calms you, being so used to the bustling New Orleans streets. This is a little slice of paradise, in your eyes.

You flatten down your dress, velvet soft against your hand, and gaze over to your pianist. Nodding back, he launches in, soft at first, but crescendoing soon after. His hand raised in the air, he looks over to you.

Your cue.

You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoky air, and sing your heart out. Light and shade battle for dominance as you play the audience like a fiddle. Your voice, full of lust and desire, floats around the room, and you smirk to yourself, looking at the sea of faces in front of you. Everything is hazy, the spotlights blurring your vision, but you can swear someone is staring at you. A man, it looks like. His dark hair shines in the faded light, and his eyes sparkle with intelligence and, interestingly enough, appreciation. It takes effort to tear your eyes away from him, but you succeed, and belt out the last line. Your smile rivals the bright lights shining down on you, and you curtsy. The cheers of the audience serves as your soundtrack, as you step off stage, scurrying over to the bar. It takes a special effort not to gaze at the mystery man as you pass.

“Lovely evening for a drink, isn’t it? I’ll have whiskey, neat.”

“Coming right up, Madam,” The bartender winks at you, a smile blossoming on your face. He sets the drink into your waiting hands, and leans against the counter, smirking at you kindly. “Wonderful show, tonight. You’re a talent, my dear.”

“Well, thank you,” you reply, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. Your smile grows brighter, and your giggle is featherlight as it floats past your lips, “It’s what I love to do.”

Your conversation is interrupted by the sounds of whispers from behind you, and you look over your shoulder. Those eyes, the bright shade of green you had seen from the stage, were looking right back at you. He looks shy, nervous even, almost hiding behind his tawny-haired friend. From your spot at the bar, you can tell, now, just how handsome he truly is. His dark hair falls in tastefully mussed curls, and his skin looks clear, almost like porcelain. His lips are petal-pink, and look soft. His jaw is sharp, and he’s rather thin; scrawny even, but he’s still gorgeous.

Holding his gaze, you wink, and his eyes go impossibly wider. You tip the bartender and walk away, a “thank you” thrown over your shoulder. A safe distance away from the mystery man and his posse, you chance a look back, and spot a man standing from the table, patting the black-haired beauty on the back. To your surprise, he weaves through the crowd towards you.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he says, catching up to you. He smooths down his button-up shirt, and sends a charming grin your way, holding out a hand to shake. “May I ask your name?”

“It’s Y/N. And yours, if I may?”

“Richard Cole.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cole?” This is met by a chuckle from the man, his hand going up to stroke his dark beard.

“Well, lovely, do you see that man over there, with the black hair?” You follow his outstretched hand, and your eyes fall upon your mystery man. He’s looking back at you, hands fiddling with each other. His gaze finally drops from yours, and the tell-tale blush rising on his cheeks makes you laugh softly. “He’d love to have a chat with you.”

“If he wants to talk to me, he can come over here himself and tell me that.”

Cole chuckles, and shakes his head fondly. Glancing over at the mystery man, he waves him over. From your spot, you can see the way he approaches on shaky legs, and you smile, recognizing him instantly. With a pat on the back of the curly-haired man, Mr. Cole is gone, and you're alone together. This is going to be fun.

“What’s your name, darling?” You ask, though you already know the answer. It’s not every day that a world-famous musician stops by ‘The Whispering Wind’, after all.

“I-it’s Jimmy… uh, Page.” His hands, you notice, are clenched into fists, and he shuffles from foot to foot. You press closer to him, and he blushes harder, cheeks almost aflame.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jimmy. I’m—”

“You’re Y/N, aren't you? I saw the poster outside, and I thought you were beautiful,” Breath hitching as he realizes what he just said, Jimmy slaps a hand over his mouth. His emerald eyes signal that he’s embarrassed, but you can only giggle. “I only meant that—”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Jimmy’s thin hand flies up to scratch the top of his head, and his hair falls in his face, effectively blocking him from view. You can see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you. I, uh… you’re an amazing vocalist. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, your stage presence was… arresting.”

“So you admit to staring at me?”

“Well, I… You…”

I’m just playing, Jimmy,” Your laugh twinkles as it fills the silence, and Jimmy’s lips quirk up in a small smile upon hearing it. “If anything, I should be the one staring. Led Zeppelin’s a big deal, y’know.”

“You… you recognized me?”

“You boys aren't exactly rising stars. Being as famous as you are, I didn’t think you’d be this humble.”

He chuckles under his breath, and looks up at you through his eyelashes. It seems he’s grown more confident now, and you smile, gaze drifting down to his mouth. If you leaned in, just a little, your lips would meet, and you could finally know if his are as soft as they look.

“We’re in New Orleans for another day, uh… I was wondering if, well… God, I’m terrible at this.”

“Jimmy—”

“Could I… take you out, sometime?” His halting, nervous speech only makes him more endearing, and you gaze into his eyes as he squirms. Jimmy sputters, trying to take his words back, but you silence him with a hand on his bicep. Lean muscle ripples under your hand, and you smile at him.

“Jimmy.”

“Oh God, I’ve fucked it all up, haven’t I? J-just forget what I said, I don’t know what—”

“It’s—”

“Seriously, it was probably a mistake to ask you that. I mean,” Jimmy’s head droops, hair shielding him once more, and you can’t help the fondness that rushes through you. Unaware of the smile that nearly splits your cheeks, he presses on, hands flying back and forth to prove his point, “You’re absolutely divine, and I’m just— Uh...”

Close enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, you put a hand to his shoulder, wiping off imaginary dust from his coat. Your fingers catch slightly on the bedazzled butterflies that adorn it. His eyes follow your hands as they dance and twirl across the fabric, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath echo in the slight space between the two of you. A lone finger finally finds his chin, and you lift his head to look at you.

“Eyes on me, chéri.”

His gorgeous green eyes meet yours from under his curly fringe, and you push a stray lock to rest behind his ear. His cheeks redden even more, something you hadn’t thought possible, as he stares into your eyes.

Pressing close to him, his scent surrounds you, and your lips brush against the curve of his ear.

“Tu veux un rendez-vous? Tu dois travailler pour cela, chéri.”

You pull away, and he is left with the ghost of soft lips against his cheek, the scent of your perfume floating after you as you walk away. Jimmy stands in place, too stunned to even react, until a hand at his back makes him jump. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots his bandmates, smirks at home on their faces. Jonesy pipes up, looking him up and down.

“You okay, Page? You’re looking pretty red…”

“It seems, and correct me if I’m wrong,” interjects Bonzo, as he slips an arm around Jimmy, guiding him back to their table. Jimmy slumps into a chair, stunned into silence, a hand raising to his cheek. Bonzo chuckles, and continues, “Like your crush just got a lot more serious.”

------

Safe behind the door of his hotel room, Jimmy trudges to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Slipping out of his clothes, that he folds neatly on the bed, the guitarist steps in. Steam curls in tendrils around the small bathroom, and Jimmy takes a deep breath. Hand settling on his cock, he begins stroking it slowly; experimentally. The pleasure feels incredible, euphoric even, as his mind drifts to the intriguing woman he had met just an hour ago. Her image is seared into his mind, and every touch she had given him felt like a wildfire licking at his skin. His groans match the speed of his hand as he speeds up, gripping the tiled wall for support.

The scent of her perfume, something floral, unplaceable, lingered in his nose, and he wishes to see her again. To have that scent invade all of his senses, again. Jimmy’s whimpers, quiet, yet keening, echo off the walls, as he reaches his peak. He imagines her there with him, raking a hand roughly through his hair, her hands roaming every inch of skin they could reach.

His muscles twitch as warmth spills over his hand, a soft grunt slipping past his gritted teeth. He’s in ecstasy, something better than any drug. Something he doesn’t ever want to come down from.

As he recovers from the high he had just experienced, his gasping breaths fill the space. Knees trembling from exertion, he grips onto the slippery shower wall, and whispers into the steam that fills the room.

“Y/N…”

------

(the french sentence: you want a date? you have to work for that, darling)

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages (let me know if you want to be added!)

#jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page x reader #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic #reader insert

105 notes · View notes

kerikaaria · 4 years ago

Text

Premiere

(Jungkook x gn!Reader) Oneshot, Established relationship

Genre: (G) Fluff

Warnings: None!

WC: 1.8k

Description: You’d do anything for your boyfriend, even if that meant sitting through the premiere for a horror movie.

A/N - Written for the lovely @aroseforyoongi ‘s birthday! We were given random prompts by picking two random numbers. My words were: Dedication and horror. AND I HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO DO. HORROR???? I couldn’t figure out where to go with that! So I’m also giving a HUGE thanks to @eternalseokjin for being amazing and giving me the basis for this little oneshot!

Happy birthday, Dianchie! I wish you all the best, always.

You hated horror movies.

It was a mystery to you how people actually enjoyed being scared out of their wits as they watched a killer hunt everyone down, or a ghost slowly drove its victims to insanity. So why, one may ask, were you currently on your way to the opening premiere of a horror movie?

Simple—you loved your boyfriend much more than you hated horror movies.

Jungkook had been working hard at his dream of being an actor, getting his hands on any role he could. With each job, he hoped the right people would manage to see him and his potential in the few scenes and fewer lines he was offered and be able to make his big break.

This was the first big step to that for him. With a little luck, the director had picked Jungkook out at the auditions and offered him the lead role for the movie. And even luckier, it was a movie that a lot of people were looking forward to and was projected to do fairly well. If it did go as well as hoped, then maybe this could lead to that big break he’d been hoping for for years.

What kind of person would you be if you didn’t agree to attend with your loving boyfriend to the movie premiere of what could be the start of the future of his career? So of course, you agreed to come. Jungkook was really apprehensive when he asked if you wanted to go, knowing your severe aversion to horror movies, and you were absolutely sure he would have understood if you said no. But there was no way you could do that to him. If he could sit through hours of those family gatherings your grandma set up every year and deal with the back-handed comments from relatives you hardly knew about how he’s wasting his time on his dream, you could do this for him. It couldn’t be that much more torturous than that, right?

That’s what you kept telling yourself while you were attached to Jungkook’s arm, a smile on your face for the cameras. Much more important than your anxiety of sitting through the movie was the crucial real-life role you knew you had to play for Jungkook right now. He would never say it out loud in fear of putting pressure on you, but you knew that he needed you for support. The cameras couldn’t pick up the subtle hints you knew all too well that meant your introverted boyfriend was extremely nervous about making a good impression, and about how well the movie and his acting would be received by viewers. It was easy to shut down the anxiety when you knew he was relying on you to be a pillar for him.

As soon as the two of you made it into the room and found your seats you could feel Jungkook relax, body feeling lighter after being able to get away from the reporters’ questions and prying eyes. He loosened your grip on his arm so he could properly entwine his fingers with yours, giving your hand a firm squeeze as he leaned toward you.

“Thank you for coming, baby,” Jungkook whispered against your skin before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “I appreciate you being here with me.”

“Of course,” you responded, turning to smile at him. “You know I’m always here to support you.”

“Let me know if the movie gets to be too much for you, okay?” Jungkook said, squeezing your hand once more. “We can leave at any point if you need to.”

You had absolutely no plans to cut this short for him. Even if turned out to be the scariest thing you’d ever seen, you were already steeling yourself to sit through the entire film. But to comfort Jungkook, you assured him that you’d indeed tell him if you felt like you had to leave.

Once the lights dimmed to signal that the movie was about to start, you felt the anxiety you’d kept at bay start to crawl its way up your chest. You kept it tampered down for the time being, reminding it that these movies didn’t start out with the really creepy stuff and you still had some time before the ghost was going to do anything.

It was made even easier when you first saw your handsome boyfriend appear on the screen only a few minutes in. You always watched everything he was in, no matter how small the role was. But now that he was the main focus and in the center, you couldn’t help but to be even more proud of him than ever.

Jungkook loved to learn every detail he could about his craft, including having an interest in directing and filmmaking as well. Days spent listening to him critique filming techniques made you also moderately familiar with the subject. While the movie wasn’t doing anything much different than you’d expect from this kind of film, you immediately noticed everything that set up the mood for a horror story. The desaturated and dark tones, soft ambient music and sounds in the background rather than a full-sounding soundtrack, and the ominous feeling behind Jungkook’s character being left a whole estate by a rich relative he had hardly even heard about. It was honestly incredibly well set-up, even if the plot was a bit predictable so far.

By distracting yourself with picking apart the details of how the film was setting up the story and admiring Jungkook’s talent and good looks, you almost forgot what kind of movie you were watching.

Almost.

When the first genuine jump scare happened about half an hour into the film, it held up to its name by making you nearly jump out of your seat. Even though he kept it quiet, you could tell Jungkook held back the chuckle that bubbled up due to your overreaction. He quickly steeled his expression though, leaning in to whisper, “You doing okay so far?”

“Yeah,” you were quick to respond. “I was just distracted.”

“Distracted? By what?”

“By how talented you are, of course,” you easily answered.

Seeing the hint of a shy smile on Jungkook’s face and the tension in the movie having calmed down for the time being put your restless heart temporarily at ease.

But of course, it wasn’t too long until the horror aspect of the movie was pulling into full swing and it was ominous music, jump scares, and creepy old ghost lady creeping around every corner galore. You tried to continue distracting yourself with the well-done editing and admiring your boyfriend some more, but it only went so far. Especially when your mind forgot to remind you that what you were seeing on screen was fiction and not your actual boyfriend in danger.

After a while, you gave up trying to actually see what was going on and hid your face in Jungkook’s arm, letting the close proximity remind you that he was indeed safe and sound next to you.

“Should we leave?” Jungkook gently asked, whispering close to one ear while he covered the other with his hand to help mute the sounds of the movie for you.

You shook your head, determined to make it through this. “I’ll be okay,” you meekly replied after lifting your head up so he could hear you. “How much longer, do you think?”

“It should be getting close to the climax, and then it’ll be a lot calmer. Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”

“I can do it,” you assured him. You turned your head back toward the screen in time to see Jungkook’s character running down a hallway to try to get some distance from the ghost. I can do it, you repeated in your mind.

Honestly, you would have preferred a slasher flick. Demon ghosts had too much power and were too unpredictable in what they could do, and the idea of fighting something virtually intangible scared the living daylights out of you. But this was your current reality and you were going to make it through this for Jungkook.

He was right, and it wasn’t too long before the climax began building up. It was a little easier to bear despite the increasing tension, knowing that Jungkook’s character was close to stopping ghost lady—you certainly hadn’t paid enough attention to find out if she had a name. Soon enough, the climax of the movie hit its peak and things started settling down to a much more manageable finish.

It took another five minutes for you to realize you were still clinging tightly to Jungkook’s arm out of reflex. Letting go, you mumbled out an apology for no doubt hurting him and telling yourself to remember and check him for bruises later.

When the credits finally rolled, you felt infinitely more relieved. You slumped in your seat, Jungkook not holding back his chuckle this time.

Before long everyone was shuffling out of the theater and while Jungkook smiled endearingly at you, you were listening to what others had to say about the movie. It relaxed you and put a smile on your face when you heard people complimenting Jungkook’s acting and about the plot twists that they didn’t expect—and you didn’t really know about because you were too busy burrowing into your boyfriend’s shoulder to notice.

You were glad the two of you lived together because even just walking out to your car in the dark had you constantly looking over your shoulder, expecting a murderous demon ghost lady to be on your tail. On the way home, the two of you kept conversation light by talking about how well you thought it went. Jungkook was still nervous about what the reception would be like, but he was much more excited now as well.

It was when the two of you were laying in bed that Jungkook said, “You know, I’m really proud of you for making it through the movie, baby.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes. “Good to know me watching a fictional horror film all the way through is such an accomplishment to be proud of.”

“You ran out of the room when we watched ‘Haunted Mansion’ because you thought it was too scary,” Jungkook deadpanned.

“It was! There’s a crystal ball with a floating head in it! How is that not scary?”

“The head wasn’t actually in there. Sorry to tell you babe, but a movie with a singing statue quartet isn’t scary.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, running out of juice to argue.

“Seriously though,” Jungkook said after a moment passed. “I really am proud of you. And I’m really happy you chose to come with me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“I love you,” you said in return, knowing he’d understand that those three words held a lot more meaning than just that.

“And I love you.” Jungkook smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

You would readily do this again for Jungkook if he ever starred in another horror film. But that didn’t mean you’d stop being a big clingy scaredy-cat about it.

My ask box is always open!

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :) You can also check out my Etsy shop for BTS inspired charms as well!

#bts fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #fluff #actor!jungkook #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #kafenetwork

71 notes · View notes

allandoflimbo · 4 years ago

Text

Ashens (Part 1)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2,214

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Author’s note: for clarification purposes...the blurb, in the beginning, takes place in the Present. The "Prologue" is just back story on Bucky. You can skip to Chapter 1 if you'd like (just simply scroll past where it reads “Prologue”). Reading the Prologue is not essential, but might be helpful to better understand Bucky's emotions at the beginning of the story. Optional.

This book is split into 3 Parts: "The Society", "The Capitol", and "The Agreement".

Soundtrack | Trailer | Moodboards | Full Masterpage

In a moment of weakness, you can’t help but try to find your building on the horizon made up of glass.

You try to find the room that had been yours for the last six months; the home where he had belittled you countless times.

But also where he’d touched your skin so softly, leaving a trail of fire and heat.

The bedroom where you had given your heart to him in your bed, and where you thought he had given you his.

Prologue

It was 1938 in Brooklyn, and he was just twenty-one years old when his father had died. Consequently, he became an orphan.

Months before, his sister had been taken away from him while he was training at the same camp his father had trained at - Camp Lehigh. The day his father died was also the same day he had met her.

Her name was Daisy.

It was a magical fairytale. He was just outside the Cotton Club when she emerged from inside the Dusenberg J. She had light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

She had a pearl and diamond bracelet on her left hand, and her other hand was wrapped up in a prestigious white glove.

Her gown had been sparkling and silver, hugging her body at just perfect places. It showed off her curves gracefully and it was obvious that she was the woman Bucky had been waiting for his entire life.

And so they danced that night to The Way You Look Tonight after she had sipped a dirty Martini.

His hand settled for the small of her back and, as they danced, he took her breath away just like she had his.

Later that night, they ended up in Dumbo in his cheap apartment where they ended up sharing their first kiss.

Ella Fitzgerald’s voice was playing on his record player in the background as he laid her onto his bed.

That was also the same night she realized he was a soldier, and that he would soon be leaving her behind.

They fell in love too fast, too strongly. They had only known each other for a few weeks when he proposed to her. He wished he had known it would be the last time he would see her.

He wouldn’t know what he lost until seventy-six years later.

Year: 2021

You needed to escape The Capitol.

The tears are heavy in your throat and it burns from the screaming and crying that you had done earlier in your room. Your right-hand closes and tightens again.

You didn’t think it would get this bad. Not your love for him, nor his boundless hate towards you.

Every dagger, in the form of a word he threw your way, pained you. It hurt the same way it did when you first met him, when you first told him you loved him, and when you first fucked.

He had continued to stare at you with those cold eyes and with that expression that he always saved for you. You filled his eyes with hate and disgust.

How could you have hoped for a change?

He showed you nothing but antipathy, yet you couldn’t pull away. You allowed yourself to believe your self-doubt, thinking he was getting better, and that he was changing. And you were falling for pity; he had been through so much, he just needed to heal, you told yourself.

You had continued to let him hurt you with his words and you let him have his way with your heart and body. It was the only way you could feel him.

Call it desperation or call it love. It wasn’t an obsession, nor a strange case of Stockholm Syndrome. You weren’t his captivate nor his trainee. You were never tied up, and neither was he. He didn’t hold you at gunpoint.

He was on the good side.

He was your partner.

You weren’t forced into what you had done with each other. He would never hold it against you. You went into it willingly. You and him both knew what you were capable of and that you could have stopped it. He would rather feed you to the wolves, knowing you’d do your very best to free yourself without his help. What happened wasn’t a delusion. It was something else.

And you had allowed it to go on for way too long. You fell in too deep, and you think he knows.

You needed to escape The Capitol.

Keeping your head down as you walk through the howling of the city life, under the monorail and through the heavy puddles, you hear the undeniable whispering. You had to be fast.

There’s a Coroner out of your peripheral. He wore his traditional black garment, boarded by a gold essence that only the Elite could afford. His hair was immaculate, but his eyes filled with uncertain rage. For half of a second, you think your eyes meet. You’re unsure, looking away as fast as you can.

The scarf on your flesh is soaking from the drizzling rain and now you grow even more nervous. If the Leviathans or Snipers were to even spot a fraction of the tattoo on your neck, you knew you were screwed. You would be dead on the spot and given no opportunity for forgiveness or freedom.

They didn’t believe in jail here. There would be no trial or interrogation; only death. The people of The Capitol watched you as you pushed through the heavy crowds of the subway, under the overpass, and into the dense fog. You knew they were wondering if you were one of the traitors they warned the society members of.

You cursed to yourself as more strands of your hair begged to fall out of your hood, your left fingers aching and trembling as you tried to tuck it back inside. You pull the black hood over your head and wrap your silver scarf around your lower face and neck. It had served as a protective barrier in your life before the mission. It hid your identity well.

The scarf smelled of dust mites and humidity from being packed away in your closet for the last six months. You didn’t need to wear a scarf inside The Capitol. Your thin, gray top reached your upper thighs. Your black pants were soaked against the hot skin of your thighs and it was irritating as you walked.

You shivered, knowing that the shirt would serve you no use of protection outside of The Wall, where you soon would be again. It would not protect you against the winds, the virus, or the ongoing civil war. You would not survive.

Your long, dark gray, cotton overcoat you had harbored for the last few months in our metal getaway box, felt heavy against your aching shoulders. You hadn’t used it since you had to fend for yourself for survival. Dirt and grime of the outer perimeters of this place badly ripped and tainted the seams on the bottom. After months of combat fighting, stress, and other physical activities, your sore muscles were catching up with you. You had allowed yourself to reach this point.

Because of your self-loathing, not because of your enemies or because of Hydra, or because of the people that had killed your family, having caved and hollowed you, but because you loved him.

And now all you could do was give up and run.

You passed the start of the iron gates, started your Stark Tracker, and you ran and ran.

You took every secret pathway that you and Bucky had learned and dissected over the last six months; the ones you trailed together.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the border of The Wall. They made the perimeter up of deep mud and it was thick around your beat-up combat boots, making it harder to walk.

You look down at your feet, glad they were still tied on. You feel a twinge in your heart. You had stolen them a little over a year ago off a poor girl on the side of an abandoned and looted grocery store. She had not made it. As you approached her body, it was apparent that she had been dead for days, but your feet had been unprotected for much longer. These boots have protected you, guided you.

The howling of the voices and the sound of the city were distant as you crawled towards the concrete barrier of the outside. It was massive, and it sent a shiver down your back. You slowed down your pace so the sound of the squelching mud became almost silent. There was nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the mud and the terrifying silence that you all knew that stood behind the wall. A distant howl, if you were quiet enough, maybe also a scream.

It was a wall that had protected you, protected you and Bucky, and that had given you hope for something different from what you had previously experienced. For those six months, because of this wall, there was no fathom or hunger. It kept you alive, and you felt alive.

There was no physical pain. It was just the two of you.

The tears burn heavy in your throat as you look back to the beautiful, yet pure evil, city that you were supposed to overthrow and destroy.

Hydra’s Society.

Eligible only for the elite, the rich, privileged, and those who harbored evil and selfish acts in their hearts. Not all the society members were amoral people, which was something you had learned early on. It was a horrible thing, what Hydra had done. What they had conquered. What they had stolen from your parents. Yet, it was beautiful.

The city comprised of tall glass towers and mesmerizing skyscrapers. A few were still under new renovations, but most were mesmerizing to the eye. Neon lights of the many signs caught the fog in the air, and you watched from afar as the hologram in the sky showed your faces, warning the people of your presence in their territory. It had a blue glow, illuminating even in the dense fog and rain.

You could hear the eery echo of the sound system and the soft hum of Neptune in the sky above, peaking through the heavy clouds. You know they are alerting their people again.

His face is there in the sky along with yours. Your eyes linger on his picture as it turns. He’s gorgeous and capable of sending way too many emotions throughout your body. You were once a forceful girl with a tough skin, and a strong heart. Stubborn and rebellious. But now, you are a disgrace to even yourself.

You close your eyes tightly together as you fist your hand again, pressing your back farther into the massive concrete sheath behind you. It’s cold and you feel it through the fabric of your coat. It was at least three hundred feet up into the sky, powerful enough that not even a nuke could breakthrough. You had doubted it for years, but now, feeling it behind you, you knew it wasn’t just a rumor.

Your mom and dad knew what they were doing.

The heavy rain pellets felt like hard stones on your heated flesh. Your hand sizzled with that feeling: attack, revenge, avenge, love; heal. But you couldn’t, not anymore. After stooping you so low, and after so many months of pure hatred and hostility, his words worked, and you allowed yourself to believe them.

You had to leave The Capitol.

Your eyes dart up towards the guarded gates at the top of the wall. You see several of The Officers and Minesweepers, already on heavy patrol for the fugitives, the cowardly, the traitors; the hunt for you both. You are afraid.

You knew your Stark Tracker could only keep you shielded for ninety seconds, which is why you had waited so long to even activate it. The stupors and generals could catch you at any moment if it were to fade, but that’s the least of your worries as you pull your hood higher above your head, tightening it with the scarf.

You couldn’t risk being seen if the tracker were to expire too soon. Your black boots splash in the mud that cave into the wall.

With tears still running down your cheeks, you turn around one more time to watch the power that Hydra had become. Towering in beauty and made up of skyscrapers that touched the clouds.

Part of you feels guilty as you remember his touch.

He was so broken.

You try not to think about how far he had come; you both had come, because you can’t let emotions cloud your judgment of what he really is. Not anymore.

He’s heartless. He’s... your chest grows tight.

No, no.

You had become so angry that you couldn't control your emotions any longer. It had almost cost you your cover. But you no longer cared about the mission.

This was all Bucky’s mission now to complete. Without you.

Just like he always wanted.

So you ran.

I don’t believe that anybody, feels the way I do, about you now.

Part 2

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes AU #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes dystopian #bucky x reader series #Ashens #Alandoflimbo #allandoflimbo #ashens part 1

380 notes · View notes

lilchibi-chan · 4 years ago

Note

So I was listening to the Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack and had a thought. Kenma and Yamaguchi (separately) having a crush on the reader 🥰 Kinda like “If I could tell her” (that’s the song name)? Could u maybe write something for it? 👉👈🥺

Of course!! I hadn’t seen the show previous to this request, so I took a watch and did my research. Also, it’s so nice to see you requesting again💖 I hope you’ve been doing well and if not, I hope this helps and I’m open to talk if you need someone 🌸 Hope you enjoy 🌸

Kenma

You, Kenma and Kuroo were all at Kenma’s house doing homework/studying. You all live close to each other, so it’s not completely unusual that you all are at one of the other person’s house. Whether it be doing homework or just hanging out, you guys are always together.

You all had a literature assignment to write a poem about love, whether it’s in the form of a person or a place that makes you feel that way and etc.

Kenma decided to write his poem about how he feels about you. He’s had a crush on you for a while and he’s never had the courage to tell you. He still doesn’t, but he thought a good way to get his feelings out would be through this poem.

You all decide to switch papers to see what the other think of the poem you each wrote. Kuroo and kenma switched papers first, or so you thought, and you were gonna go after the two of them read theirs out loud.

“I’m going to read Kuroo’s first to get it over with,” Kenma says

You and Kuroo get comfortable to listen to Kenma read.

Kuroo secretly cheers him on, which you don’t notice

“The poem reads Her hair is dark like the wings of a raven Eyes bright like the sun is behind them Heart made of gold and skin made of satin These feelings I have stay quiet as I hide them Behind these eyes, she doesn’t see I wish she could because I want her with me I lay awake, thinking of her Wishing one day that I could tell her The way she smiles makes my heart skip a beat The way she laughs sets my soul on fire We’ve been friends for a while But I feel like we’re miles apart Due to the feelings I hide in my heart”

“W-wow,” you say taken aback by the words written on the paper

You also noticed that Kenma looked at you the whole time he read it. He was usually the type that avoided eye contact, but it was like he wanted you to hear his feelings and feel them pouring into your soul.

“Kenma, w-would you mind if I took a look at the paper,” you ask

“Uh.. um.. sure,” he says reluctantly handing it over

You read the paper and see that it’s Kenma’s name at the top.

“Kuroo, would you mind if Kenma and I spoke alone,” you ask

“Uhh.. no, go ahead,” he says, leaving the room

“S-so, how long have you felt this way,” you ask Kenma lowly

“A while,” he says not wanting to look you in the eyes

“Kenma, you can face me. I’m not scary,” you say trying to comfort him

“I-I know, but I’m not really good with people,” he says

“Well I’m not just anyone, I’m your best friend and...I kinda..have feelings.. for you..too,” you confess

“R-really,” he says surprised

“Yeah. I love spending time with you and your passion for video games and you teaching me how to play. I love that you never go easy on me either. I know games are like your everything and for you to share that with me took a lot and I know that.”

“Everything is easy with you, y/n” he confesses,“it kinda feels like I’ve known you forever and I’ve never really been that comfortable with anyone.”

“What about Kuroo,” you ask laughing

“He kinda just claimed me as his, but I don’t mind having him around. To be honest, I do feel lonely without him being here, but sometimes even then, I think of you and I don’t feel lonely anymore. Just the thought of you being here brings me comfort.”

You sit there again, this time almost on the brink of tears.

Kenma looks up at you and notices the tears brimming your eyes.

“A-are you okay,” he asks worried

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you say,“it was just really nice to hear you say that because I feel the same way. You’re my comfort person and whenever I think of you, I just feel warm and fuzzy inside. It sounds cliche but that feeling is indescribable”

“Y-y/n, would you..maybe...wanna hang out this weekend...but like, a date,” he asks

“Of course, Ken. I would love it.”

He smiles and you hear Kuroo open the door

“Ugh finally! I thought you two were gonna let me stay out there forever,” Kuroo says being dramatic, causing you to laugh

“You would’ve been fine,” Kenma says

“Gosh Kenma, you’re so cold. Why can’t you be nice to me like you with y/n” Kuroo says, fake crying

“You’re both two different people who I have different relationships with. You are not the same,” kenma says

“Wow Kenma,” Kuroo says holding his chest where his heart is

“Guys c’mon,” you say interrupting,“we all love each other now let’s just hang out like we usually do and have fun.”

And you all do just that until you and Kuroo decide to leave.

Yamaguchi

Today at Karasuno, there is an assembly being held with a talent show right after.

A couple weeks ago, when the talent show was announced, Yamaguchi decided that he wanted to do something big. He wanted to confess his feelings to you through a song.

Yamaguchi isn’t the most confident, but he wants to prove that for you, he would do anything.

He spent the two weeks doing research on different songs that explained exactly how he felt about you until he found the perfect one.

He also asked Tsukishima to help him by playing guitar and asked Daichi and Kageyama if they would do background vocals for him.

Tsukishima agreed because he was glad to see Yamaguchi grow some balls and take charge. Kageyama took a little more convincing and finally agreed when Yamaguchi offered to by him as much milk as he wanted and snacks after school if he helped. We all know Daichi being the dad friend agreed no questions asked.

They practiced everyday after practice.

Although they were tired, they knew how important this was for Yamaguchi.

Finally, the day has arrived and the boys are backstage getting ready.

You and Yachi are sitting in the crowd anticipating their performance.

“Wow this is so exciting. I know I could never do it because I’m really bad at dealing with people staring at me, but the good this is that it’s not me up there,” Yachi says to you

“I know,” you say, smiling big,“who knew?! Yamaguchi, Kageyama and Daichi can sing and Tsuki can play guitar!”

“I know this is amazing,” Yachi says gushing with you

After the student council presented what they had to, they announce that Yamaguchi, Tsuki, Kageyama and Daichi were the first act.

They all walk out on the stage and you can see Yamaguchi tense up once he turns his eyes to the sea of people.

You start cheering louder so that Yamaguchi can find you in the crowd and you hold up the poster that you and Yachi made last night.

“H-hi,” Yamaguchi says into the microphone,“I uh..I’m going to sing a song today that describes a really special girl in my life. It’s called Truly, Madly, Deeply by One Direction. Y/n, I hope you like it.”

“I haven’t heard this song before,” you say to Yachi as you both clap for them to hype them up and know that they have your support.

“Me neither,” you say,“but it should be good. One Direction have some amazing songs.”

Yamaguchi starts singing and you couldn’t believe your ears. He was actually really good. You couldn’t believe that he had hidden this talent from you.

You start listening to the words in the song and you realize that this is Yamaguchi’s way of confessing his feelings to you.

You didn’t know that he did, but there were times you thought maybe and you just were never really sure.

At this moment, they were solidified. Yamaguchi has feelings for you and he’s done hiding them. He also wants the whole world to know about it.

This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you and you think to yourself ‘this is the kind of thing that happens in movies’

This felt like a dream to you. A dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

He looked in your direction the whole time and it felt like you were the only two people in the auditorium.

The song was beautiful and everything about this moment was perfect.

Sadly for you, it did come to an end.

The rest of the acts perform and the talent show ends.

Yamaguchi got second place.

You go see Yamaguchi and the rest of the boys back stage.

“You guys did amazing! You totally deserved first place,” you say pouting

“Y/n, can w-we talk for a second,” Yamaguchi says pulling you aside

“Yeah...you did amazing by the way. I really wish you would’ve gotten first place,” you say reiterating that he should’ve won the talent show

“It’s fine y/n,” he says honestly,“this performance was for you and only you, so I feel like I did win.”

“Yamaguchi,” you say smiling

“Y/n...I really like you and I had to tell you. I couldn’t hold it on anymore.. I hope you’re okay wi-,”

You interrupt him by crashing your lips on his.

“I couldn’t ask for a better confession. That was so romantic and I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend...if you’re okay with it too,” you say with a giggle

“I would love nothing more than to be your boyfriend y/n”

You kiss again and walk back over to the group hand in hand.

There’s clapping and cheers and whistling.

You were so happy. The both of you were.

You couldn’t ask for a better day or a better boyfriend.

I hope you enjoyed this. I really wanted to try and make it perfect for you. I hope this met your expectations 🥺🌸

43 notes · View notes

tangledstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

i’ll say it with petals (you’ll ink it in my skin)

julie works at her families flower shop and luke works in the tattoo parlour next door. one time he plays his music a little too loud, one time julie decides to have a word.

it just a lil flower shop / tattoo artist au

i honestly had so much fun writing this one and it really truly did get away from me. i didn’t mean for it to be 11k words long, my bad. it also lowkey covers the ‘how do you passive aggressively say fuck you in flowers’ prompt, so the flower meanings are at the end.

but anyway please enjoy!!!

also on ao3 (in source!)

trigger warnings! death mentions (julies mom), mild swearing, underage drinking (literally a single beer) needles.

When she was little Julie remembers always being excited to get to go to work with her mom at the flower shop. Because she liked to spend time with her mom, but also because Julie really loved all the flowers.

Walking into the shop when she was little always felt a little like walking into a magical world. Somewhere full of bright colours and loud scents and soft instrumental music always playing in the background. It felt a lot like home too.

With her mom singing and her tia laughing and Julie trying to join in with both. She remembers, when she was little, always pulling one of the tall chairs up to the counter, greeting customers with a gap toothed smile and asking in her best voice ‘what can I help you with today?’ but she’d a little bit of a lisp and the chair would wobble and the customer would smile politely but ring the bell for her mom or tia to come bustling out.

Walking into the shop still feels a little bit magical even now she’s nineteen and no longer full of childhood wonder, but it’s also tinged with a melancholy feeling that has her sitting at the front counter on one of the tall chairs and humming quietly to herself.

When Julie thinks back on her childhood now, it’s full of music and laughter and flowers. When she closes her eyes, when the shop is quiet and she’s alone in the backroom, she can almost hear her mom singing about flower names to her and hear tia talking away to a customer and her dad dropping by to kiss her hair and leave lunch. It used to hurt, and sometimes it still does, but mostly it just makes her smile.

Until the sound of heavy drums and a loud guitar breaks her peaceful afternoon.

Julie accidentally snaps the stem of the lily in her hand as she glares at the wall that connects their shop to the tattoo parlour next door. For the last two weekends this has been happening on and off. The music would start blaring at random points in the day and abruptly stop. Only to start again a little later on.

Now see, despite what people at her school might have said in senior year, Julie still loved music. She liked to play it just as loud as the next person, and she didn’t even mind whatever band it was that was playing. They had some very catchy riffs and melodies, from what she could hear.

But when your music echoed through the walls so loud that someone next door could hear the words, your music was too loud.

Putting the snapped lily down, Julie wipes her hands on her apron and glares a little more at the wall, like the person on the other side would be able to see her, when there’s no change she glances at the clock. Twelve o’clock. So much for having a quiet lunch break and watching an episode of Schitt’s Creek. The only silver lining was that the music didn’t normally last for long. Twenty minutes at most.

By one o’clock, when the music is still blasting and she’s starting to gain a headache and she’s started looking up obscure flowers that could mean ‘shut up’, Julie decides she needs to do something.

The tattoo parlour has been in business next door to Petal Pushers for the last six years and as far as Julie knows there’s never been any issues between them. (In fact, Julie knows that her mom had gotten her last tattoo there and that her tia often gave them leftover arrangements for their front window and four years ago, when the flower shop had undergone a rebrand, one of their artists had designed their logo.)

All she had to do was go next door and ask whoever it was to turn the volume down. Easy.

She finds herself waiting another half an hour, just in case, but she can still hear the crashing of drums and the pulsing bass.

So she slips her phone into her back pocket and picks up her keys, turns the sign on the door to ‘back in ten minutes!’ and walks the eight steps to the right, pushes open the door to Etched in Ink and is immediately attacked by music. There’s a more authentic feeling to it now she’s in the shop, something alive about it, but it might just be the volume and how she can see the bowl of lollies on the front desk actually vibrating.

“Hello?” Her voice gets lost in someone singing about time moving slowly as she steps further into the shop, eyes glancing around. She’s been in before –– she came when her mom got her tattoo and she’s dropped off flowers on occasion –– but it’s been a while. There’s some new art work on the walls she thinks, and band posters. Fingers tapping on the desk she shouts a hello again but isn’t surprised when it’s once again swallowed by the music

Rolling her eyes Julie steps around the desk and through to the main area of the shop where the music is impossibly louder, but there’s still no one around. Honestly, it would be so easy for someone to walk in and rob the place.

Her fingers walk along the arm arm of a chair as she walks through the space and towards a slightly ajar staff door at the back. Julie knocks, to be polite, but huffs out a breath when there’s still no response. Honestly, she can barely hear herself think in this place, let alone hear someone at the door.

Pushing it open, her mouth opens to reprimand whoever is inside but instead she’s left standing both thoughtless and speechless at the guy bouncing around the room.

He’s wearing black jeans and an orange beanie that contradict with the sleeveless band shirt covering his torso. Because that’s all it’s covering, and doing a poor job at that. Julie watches, a little transfixed, as his biceps flex, sleeve of tattoos dancing with the movement as he plays along with the guitar riff of the song on the electric in his hands.

Idly, in the back of her mind, she finally understands why the music had felt different when she stepped into the shop.

He nods his head in time with the music and the crashing of a cymbal, eyes shut tight and biting his bottom lip in concentration.

And okay, Julie knows she came over to yell at the asshole playing his music too loud and is now just gawking at him. But in her defence, she didn’t know he was going to be so hot.

Julie’s still standing in the doorway staring at him, her mind trying desperately to regain control, when he opens his eyes and looks right at her. His eyes widen a fraction in surprise, and she notices his fingers slip, just a little on the frets, before a smirk curls at the edges of his lips.

In mild horror and joy, Julie watches as he takes a step closer to her, fingers moving across the strings as he follows along with the song and stares right at her.

Swallowing, and trying to ignore how warm her cheeks suddenly feel, Julie crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at him as the song finally seems to come to an end.

“I knocked!” She blurts out the second he hits pause on the cd player in the corner of the room and she resists the urge to move hair in front of her face when he looks at her with a single raised brow. “But it’s no surprise you couldn’t hear me over this racket,” she waves vauley to his guitar, careful to avoid eye contact with his arms.

“You work next door, right?” He asks, sitting on top of the table in the middle of the room, his feet resting on the chair while he rests his guitar on his lap, folding his arms on top, muscles flexing and oh god. She really needs to stop staring at his arms.

“Mhm,” she manages to get out along with a nod of her head, eyes darting up to his face. But from the look in his eyes Julie’s pretty sure she’s been caught staring.

“I’ve seen you around,” he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and he smiles and Julie thinks that might be worse to look at then his arms. Fucking hell, “I’m uh Luke, by the way. Started here a few months ago.”

“Right,” this conversation was not going the way she anticipated. Pushing aside his employment history and his name –– though she is grateful to have it –– Julie clears her throat and pulls herself up a little straighter. “That’s great. I came to ask you to turn the music down. I can barely think next door.”

“You don’t like the songs?” There’s a slight pout on his lips that almost distracts her and has her saying she does like the songs.

Instead she shakes her head, “It’s not exactly the soundtrack I want when making a funeral arrangement.”

Honestly, she had been expecting him to nod in understanding, apologise for the loudness and promise to keep it down. She didn’t expect him to let out a laugh –– which was bright and clear and made his eyes crinkle in such a cute way that it totally distracted her from his biceps –– or lean towards her with a grin.

“Are you kidding!? A song about how life is short and you’ve got to live it like it’s now or never––” he sings the line and suddenly Julie is hit with the knowledge that the music she’s been hearing over the last few weeks is apparently his, ”Is the perfect soundtrack for a funeral arrangement. Also possibly christenings. But I don’t know if flowers are a thing for those.”

“Of course there’s –– No, no stop,” she closes her eyes, throwing her hands up before she really loses track of the conversation, “I’m not here to talk about flower arrangements. I just came to ask for you to please turn the music down,” she pauses, eyes darting to his arms and the guitar they’re resting on before pointing at the amp its plugging into, “And if you’re going to play, to do it at a 1, not a 10.”

“Even if I play something arrangement appropriate like You Raise Me Up?” Luke leans a little more forward, pushing himself to the edge of the table until his guitar is almost touching the back of the chair.

“Even if you played Danny Boy,” Julie doesn’t know when she’d copied him, tilting forward at the waist so they were almost eye level, but when she notices she can make out the details of the book inked into his skin she realises they’ve drifted closer. Cheeks warming, she stands up straighter and brushes her hands down her apron.

“Just–– keep it down. Please,” she turns to walk out the door but hesitates, turning to look at him over her shoulder, eyes firmly on his face, “If not for my sake then for your own. Anyone could walk in here and rob you, and you wouldn't hear a thing.”

“Hey wait! You didn’t tell me your name! Can’t spend the whole conversation staring at my arms and not give me something.”

Julie pauses, lets her eyes wander from his fingers resting on the neck of his guitar, up his inked forearms and biceps before landing on his face, quirking her lips a little, “Think of it as payment for disrupting my lunch.”

She’s halfway through the main room when she hears him stuttering out a laugh and calling after her again, and it takes all her willpower not to turn around.

Unfortunately that means she’s a blushing mess by the time she makes it back into her shop, shaking her head as she tries to stop smiling.

After their first encounter Luke doesn’t play his music too loud anymore, but Julie suddenly starts seeing him all the time anyway.

A Tuesday morning when she’s opening up, blinking back a yawn and fumbling with her keys and he’s wandering up with a wide grin and too chirpy hello. She’s fairly certain she grumbles something about daylight and needing coffee before dealing with him and an amused smile on his lips. (The next Tuesday when he’d strolled up he’d had a carrier with two take out cups and handed one to her without a word. Julie had stood stunned for a few seconds before her brain kicked in and she’d opened the door with a muttered thanks.)

A Thursday evening when she’s lugging a bag of garbage out to the bins at the back of the shop and Luke’s sitting on the old deck chair in his shop's yard, notebook open on his lap and pen tapping on his knee. He’d gotten up, pen tucked behind his ear and book stuffed in his back pocket, and come over to help her. After she’d said thank you they’d hesitated in each other's space and shared a smile before going their separate ways. (Later, Juile wrinkles her nose when she realises it’s the first time they’ve both smiled at each other and it had been next to the god damn bins.)

A Friday at lunch time when she’s bringing out a tray of flowers to give to the hearse driver parked on the street and Luke walks past humming the tune to Danny Boy under his breath, making her burst into a fit of giggles that makes him grin and the driver frown and her blush. (She sees him walking past again half an hour later and waits until she’s sure he’s inside before hitting play on their sound system, You Raise Me Up starts blasting through the shop and she grins to herself when she hears something hit their connecting wall.)

A Sunday afternoon when she’s collecting all the leftover bouquets from out front of the shop and Luke walks past her, hands in his pockets and guariar case slung over one shoulder. He pauses as she straightens up with a collection of rose bouquets in her arms, she raises an eyebrow at him and Juile could swear he blushes, but it’s probably a trick of the dying light. He’d given her a two finger salute, muttered something about having a good afternoon and then hurried away. (Julie had spent the last hour of her shift before closing thinking about the way the denim jacket he had been wearing did very little to hide the definition of his arms.)

So Julie’s used to seeing him around now.

To their little quips and shared coffees on Tuesday mornings and the way the ghost tattoo at the bottom of his bicep seems to dance whenever he shoots her a wave.

But she’s used to seeing him outside.

Never inside Petal Pushers surrounded by flowers or tilting his head as he listens to the softly playing music.

But on a Wednesday afternoon as she comes out of the back room when someone rings the bell on the counter she’s greeted by Luke doing just that. He’s got one hand pushed into the front pocket of her jeans while his other is idly tracing a pattern on the counter top, it’s only when she gets a little closer that she realises he’s tracing music notes.

“Hi, welcome to Petal Pushers. I’m Julie, how can I help you today?” The words leave her mouth before she can stop them, mind working on autopilot at the sight of a customer.

A slow smile spreads across Luke’s face as he looks down at her, his fingers stilling on the counter, “So you’re name’s Julie,” he says and Julie doesn’t think she’s ever heard anyone say her name like him. Like it’s the lyric to a song they’ve been trying to finish or a missing puzzle piece.

Letting out a sigh she gives him a nod, chewing on her bottom lip as she really looks at him. Over the last few weeks Julie has learned that he doesn’t work Wednesdays, that he has a real aversion to sleeves and when he knows no one is booked in for an appointment he uses the time to practice for his band. She’s also learnt that he bites his lip way too much for her health, has a tattoo on his ribs that she’s dying to fully see and that he rubs the back of his neck when he’s nervous.

Like he’s doing right now.

“It is. Did you just come in to finally find out or did you need some flowers?” She tilts head at him and smiles.

“I uh––” his hand is still rubbing at his neck and Julie watches his tongue run over his lips and she has to blink quickly to refocus her eyes when he starts talking, “I heard that flowers have different meanings, right?”

“Uh yeah,” she nods, still blinking, but more in confusion now. This isn’t quite what she thought the conversation was going to be.

“Okay cool. So um, how would you say fuck you in flowers?”

Julie blinks, opens her mouth to say something only to close it again. Huh. Really wasn’t what she expected him to ask.

“Well, do you want to say it subtly? Passive aggressive? Just a straight up fuck you?” Her mind is already thinking about possibilities and what they have in stock.

“Straight up fuck you,” he nods once before muttering, more to himself then her, “I don’t think Bobby would even understand subtly.”

Squinting for a moment, Julie knocks her knuckles on the counter top once before pushing away from it and starting to move around the shop. She picks out a few pink peonies and pale pink geraniums, she looks at the different carnations they have out, pursing her lips in thought.

“What exactly has this Bobby done? Dumped you for someone with better biceps?” She teases, glancing at him over her shoulder as she deliberates between the yellow and purple.

“I wish. That would have been better,” he sighs and Julie frowns at him, brows drawing together as she watches him tap on the counter. “He uh he used to be in my band? But he left because of ‘creative differences’, which was basically because he wanted us to sell out to the first big name label.”

He looks up at her, eyes wide and disgusted at the mere thought of it. And well, she understands that. From the little she’s heard of their band through the walls Julie’s fairly certain they don’t need to sell out to make it big. So she nods at him, tilting her head and hoping he gets that she understands.

“So he left and that was–– it was shit really because we’d all been friends for years. Me and the boys, we tried to keep in touch with him because he left the band but we didn’t think it meant we’d stop being friends, y’know?” Luke moves away from the counter now, wanders over to her and fingers the brushing gently over the petals of a rose as he frowns, “But he cut us off. Found out why yesterday.”

He pauses, fingers still moving over the rose and Julie takes the opportunity to pick out a few of the orange carnations, mentally deciding to fetch two sprigs of meadowsweet from the back when Luke starts talking again.

“He signed with some big shot label and has an album coming out in November. Seven out of the ten songs on it are mine,” as he says it he pulls a little to hard on the petal, tearing it in half, “Fuck, sorry.”

Julie waves away his apology, picking the damaged rose out and adding it to her arms. There’s a dull sort of roaring in her ears as she walks back to the counter, still trying to wrap her head around his story.

His friend had stolen his songs. Had stolen his songs and sold out.

She looks down at the flowers on the counter, stupidity and disappointment and uselessness and anger. Glancing up at Luke, who’s wandered back to the counter, hands pushing into his pockets and looking a little lost.

“He really stole your songs?” She asks gently. It’s been a long time since Julie played her own music, even longer since she wrote a full song, but she knows how much it would hurt her if someone ever stole them from her. Especially if that person had been her friend.

“Yeah,” Luke breaths, resting against the counter and shrugging at her.

“Okay then.”

Holding up one finger she hurries into the back room, picks up a roll of cellophane and the worst ribbons they have, two sprigs of meadowsweet and plucks a single orange lily from the bucket against the wall. Luke’s still leaning against the counter where she left him, staring at the collection of photos on the wall behind it. Most are just photos of their most popular bouquets but mixed between them are photos of her and her mom and her brother and her tia and her dad.

“Your aunt owns this place, right?” He asks casually. Too casually. Like he already knows the answer. Glancing up at him she hums, waiting to see where he’s going with it. “That’s cool. She brings us flowers for the front sometimes. Willie did your logo design, I think.”

Julie smiles at the mention of Willie, he’s a year older then her and had been working at Etched in Ink for the last four years, her mom had picked his design out she remembers. The rough sketched dahlia with music notes hidden in its petals and a rose in the centre. A combination of her moms and her tia’s favourite flowers and music that had always brought their family together.

“My mom said he really managed to capture our family business in it,” she chuckles, moving a carnation and adding one of the meadowood springs. Which might have been true, but Julie also knows they’d picked it because her mom only had a few months left and her tia wanted their new logo to still have something of her in it.

“He’s pretty good at doing that,” Luke agrees and the way he smiles at her lets Julie know that he knows about her mom. And she’s glad he doesn’t mention it, doesn’t try to offer any condolences. “He’s helping Reg re-do our bands logo.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow though her eyes are still on the flowers. In go the peonies and geraniums, colours clashing.

“Sunset Curve. You should uh––” he hesitates for long enough that Julie looks up at him, at the faint blush on his cheeks and one hand at the back of his neck. “You should check us out. We’ve got a few videos on youtube. Or I could uh I could get you a copy of our demo.”

She looks at him for a heartbeat, at his pink cheeks and the way he’s biting his lip despite smiling and the blank space of skin on the underside of his arm. Julie gives him a half smile, eyebrows flicking up as she teases, “Okay, Sunset Swerve, right?”

“I’ll go back to playing our demo super loudly,” he tries to glare at her, but it's ruined by the way his lips stick out in a pout and the lock of hair falling across his forehead.

“Mhm, and I’ll just call the police with a noise complaint,” she grins at him.

“If you were gonna do that you’d have done it already,” he points out and yeah. He has a point there.

“Maybe,” she concedes looking back at the flowers and sticking the lily straight in the middle. No better way to say fuck you then with an orange lily. Without measuring she cuts off a length of the bright lime green ribbon and lays a section of cellophane on the counter top.

“That’s a terrible colour,” Luke points out mildly and when Julie flicks her eyes up she sees him grinning. She wraps two elastic bands around the flower stems and cuts them all down to the same size before laying them on the plastic wrap and rolling them together.

“Can you––” she gestures with her finger for Luke to hold the ribbon and cellophane in place while she ducks down to find a packet of flower food to attach. She might not like who the flowers are going to but that doesn’t mean the flowers should suffer the price. Tying the ribbon into a bow over Luke’s finger, she taps him lightly with her pinky to move it before pulling the loops tight.

“Do you want a card?” She asks, wondering which of their options would suit this type of bouquet best. Maybe just one of the plain yellow ones.

“Oh yeah. Can it say ‘Hey Bobby, fuck you’.”

Julie pauses with her pen hovering over the card, waiting to see if he’s going to add anything else.

“Just–– just that? Nothing more?” she looks up at him but Luke just shakes his head, nodding down to the card for her to finish. Shrugging she does, using her best cursive so he knows the sentiment is meant. She holds it up for Luke to inspect and when he grins she slots it into the flowers, stepping back a little to admire her creation.

It’s absolutely horrendous. It’s perfect.

“This is great,” Luke grins as his eyes roam across the flowers and Julie’s pretty sure he has no idea what any of them mean. But he’s definitely picked up on how awful it looks which seems to be good enough for him. “How much do I owe you?”

“Do you want them delivered?”

“Yeah that would be good,” he pulls his wallet out and Julie has to bite hard at her bottom lip to stop from laughing as she notices the chain attached to his belt.

“That’ll be $15,” she presses a few buttons on the cash machines screen, the card reader lighting up as she waits to see how he’ll be paying but Luke’s just frowning at her.

“That can’t be right. It says the orange and purples ones alone are like ten dollars.”

“Mhm, I’m only charging you for delivery,” she can tell he’s about to argue so she’s quick to speak, “As someone who once thought of herself as a musician, anyone who steals songs deserves worse than an ugly bouquet of flowers. Fifteen dollars Luke.”

There’s a different look in his eyes as he taps his card on the reader, something assessing. Like she’s just handed him another piece of a puzzle when he thought he’d completed it. Julie looks down at the card reader, ready to tear off his receipt so she doesn’t have to wonder what he’s seeing when he looks at her.

“They’ll go out this afternoon, be with Bobby by seven pm at the latest,” she says, pushing the post-it note with the address firmly onto the cellophane and gives Luke a smile.

“Thanks,” the smile he gives her in return is a lot softer than she’s used to from him. But she likes it. “I’ll uh, see you tomorrow?”

It’s a question, hesitant and careful. Almost like he’s worried she won't want to see him tomorrow. Which is silly. Seeing Luke, even briefly in passing, has quickly become her favourite part of the day. Not that she has any intention of letting him know that. That would be embarrassing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Luke.”

“Bye. Julie,” and there’s her name again coming from his mouth that’s curving up into a smile. All she can do is wave awkwardly as he leaves.

A gasp of air leaves her lips as the door shuts behind him and she slumps forwards on the counter, nudging the flowers with her elbow, “Oh fuck.”

The saturday after the fuck you flowers Julie is handed an envelope by Victoria when she walks in for her shift at twelve o’clock. Julie gives her credit, she doesn’t start asking questions about ‘the puppy eyed boy’ until after she’s at least put her bag down.

“He all but pouted when I said you weren’t in yet, mija,” from the way Victoria wags her eyebrows Julie gets the feeling she might have ‘accidentally’ let slip when she was due in.

“I think that’s just his face tia. He made the same one when I said pizza was overrated.” Which was the wrong thing to say as Victoria’s eyes light up.

“And why were you talking about pizza?” She leans on the counter, handbag slipping down her shoulder at the movement.

“Because he mentioned he was getting pizza with his friends, that’s all. Nothing is going on between us, we’re just friends,” Julie tries to put as much stress on the word friends as she can. But Victoria just lets out a small hum, a knowing smile on her lips that Julie doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“If you say so Julie. Right, I’m off. See you for dinner tomorrow?” She pushes herself off from the counter, pushing up her bag and pointing one manicured hand at Julie.

“Papi’s making enchiladas, so there’s no need to bring anything.”

“Of course,” but they both know she’ll still bring something, perhaps a salad. Perhaps a whole meal. Victoria blows her a kiss and then turns in a flurry of skirts out of the door, leaving Julie shaking her head after her, a smile on her lips.

As soon as she’s sure that Victoria isn’t going to come bustling back in having forgotten something Julie unseals the envelope and pulls out a cd case with a post-it note stuck to the front. It takes her a while to work out what it says, but it’s easy enough to see the number scrawled at the bottom in a different handwriting.

It makes her smile, thinking about Luke writing the note and then asking one of his friends to write his number, like he wanted to make sure she could clearly read it. It almost makes her think he really wants to know her thoughts.

Making sure no one's about to come into the shop Julie slips into the back room and over to their sound system, taking out the cd of classical music and replacing it with the Sunset Curve demo. It doesn’t take her long to recognise the opening guitar riffs as the song that Luke had been playing along too when they’d first met, laughing a little to herself, she goes back to the front. Pulling one of the chairs over, she sits down and flips through the little leaflet that the cd came with.

Three faces looking out at her and one scribbled over in black sharpie. She’s going to hazard a guess that that’s Bobby. There’s writing underneath the photo and peering at it closer Julie sees that someone's someones written their names. Alex, Luke and Reggie. She shakes her head at the way he’s added his own name for her, just in case.

“Idiot,” she mutters fondly.

Luke doesn’t come back in, which is probably for the best because Julie keeps his demo playing for the rest of the day.

By the third play through she’s started to memorise the lyrics and by the fifth she’s adding in imaginary keys to parts of the songs and by the sixth she can harmonise along with them.

Around four, when she’s waving goodbye to a customer who came in asking for something blue she decides to take a break, turning the sign on the door as she presses Flynn’s name in her phone. She’s just turning the volume down on the sound system when her best friend answers.

“Okay, what’s the latest with Mr Arms?”

“He left me his demo and number, Flynn,” she whines, flopping down on the lumpy sofa, head hitting the wall softly.

“Is it bad?” Flynn asks and she can practically hear the frown in her voice. After the flower incident Julie had driven to Flynn’s dorm room and told her everything, and then they’d spent two hours looking through youtube for their videos. And they were good. Really good.

“No. It’s great. Amazing. Listen,” Julie pulls her phone away from her ear and hits the speaker button as the chorus of Late Last Night starts and she quietly sings along with Luke’s voice.

“Oh this is catchy,” she mutters, voice echoing through the room and Julie nods before remembering this is a phone call and her friend can’t see her.

“I know,” she groans, “Flynn. He’s hot, he plays guitar like a rockstar, he’s funny and helps me take out the garbage and his arms, Flynn. His arms!”

“I know babe. He’s got the arms of a greek god. You’ve told me,” there’s a teasing note in Flynn’s voice that just makes Julie groan again, slipping further down the sofa.

“What am I going to do?”

“Well, now hear me out, you could just text him. And ask him out.”

When she says it like that it sounds so simple. Julie frowns a little, absentmindedly nodding her head along with the outro to the song as she thinks about it. Texting him. Asking him out. Because what if he doesn’t like her like that? Sure they’ve been sort of flirting for a few weeks but he probably does that with everyone. With his face and personality, not to mention the whole band thing, he could get anyone he wanted, so why would he go for her?

“Okay Jules stop, I can practically hear you spiralling through the phone.”

“He might not even like me like that. He probably just wanted an opinion on his music,” she tries but it sounds weak even to her.

“Right, first of all you are hot. And anyone would be lucky to go out with you, more than lucky, they should be honoured that you’re even considering going out with them,” Julie laughs a little, but there’s no stopping Flynn when she’s on a roll, “Second the boy has taste if he’s asking for your opinion on his music because you have amazing taste. And third, they’re playing a show tonight at the Grange so meet me at mine at eight so I can judge your outfit.”

It takes Julie a moment to register what she’s said and then she’s blinking, pushing herself up on the sofa until she’s sitting up straight, “What? How do you know that?”

“They’re on twitter. And they really need some help on that front because there are so many typos,” Flynn trails off for a moment before her voice is back, “If it works out between you and Mr Arms I might consider offering them my services.”

“Isn’t the Grange a 21+ club?” She asks as her last argument but she already knows what Flynn is going to say. The fake ID in her purse is practically laughing at her.

“Fakes baby. Eight o’clock. Bring some of your dad's brownies.”

Julie doesn’t have a chance to think of any reasons why she can’t go before Flynn is saying “Love you bye!” and hanging up. She makes sure to carefully put the cd back in its case and slip it in her bag before locking up for the night, if they’re going to see them play Flynn should get to hear the whole demo.

The club is already busy when they show their ID’s to bouncers and wander in. Bodies press into each other on the dance floor in front of the stage, moving along to whatever the dj is playing so loudly it just sounds like bass to her. Flynn wraps a hand around her wrist and tugs her over to the bar, pushing through a group of boys around their age until they’re leaning on the counter.

“This place is smaller than I expected,” Julie shouts, shooting the bartender a smile as he puts down two beers in front of them and takes Flynn’s money.

“I guess unsigned bands can’t be picky,” Flynn grins at her as she picks up her drink and the two of them weave back through the crowd to one of the tables off to the side of the dance floor. There’s no chairs, but they don’t mind standing, “I wonder what time they’re on,” she taps the screen of her phone to check the time and Julie peers over as 9:32 flashes up.

Julie looks around, idly taking a swig of her drink as she watches a group of girls dance, laughing and giddy. The one downside to opting to take a year off before college is that she’s missing out on all this every week.

The sneaking into clubs and drunken dancing and shitty beer and new friends. Flynn always invites her when she goes out and she’s gone a few times, but it’s not the same. And anyway she’s meant to be using this year to decide what she wants to do. Who she wants to be. She’s pretty sure she’s not going to find it at the bottom of a bottle or on a sticky floor.

She pulls at the hemline of her black high waisted shorts, wiggling her hips a little as she tries to pull them down while trying to keep her lilac off shoulder crop top from riding up. It’s a delicate balance and she’s feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey,” Flynn’s hand appears in her line of sight and Julie follows it up to her face where she’s peering at her through gold shimmering eyes, “You look amazing. Stop fussing.”

Julie blows out a breath, dropping her hands from her shorts and lifting her drink to her lips and drinking. Flynn’s growing smile is enough for Julie to try and relax. And then the DJ is pausing the music and announcing the last band of the night, there’s a loud cheer from the gathered crowd as the three members of Sunset Curve stroll onto the stage.

The dark haired bassist, Reggie, waves at the crowd as he checks his bass is plugged in, throwing a wink at someone in the front row with a grin. Alex seems to be looking for something in the crowd and finds it if the wide smile on his face is anything to go by. But Julie doesn’t really spare them much more than a sweeping glance as her eyes land on Luke.

Apparently the lack of sleeves extends to the stage, as does the beanie –– which makes zero sense and she will be teasing him about it if she doesn’t melt into a puddle of goo by the end of the night –– , but there’s an ease to the way he walks up to his mic, guitar strap across his body and plucking a pick out of his mouth. He grins at something Reggie says that none of them can hear, and his face lights up and Julie knows that whatever they’re about to see is going to be incredible.

“Hey, thanks for coming out tonight. We’re gonna kick this off with something from our upcoming EP. This is Now or Never.”

Luke nods at Reggie and Reggie nods at him and then they’re playing. She’d thought their demo was good, had thought their badly recorded covers on youtube were good, had even liked the little she’d heard through the walls three weeks ago, but hearing them live is another feeling altogether.

They’re better than good and amazing doesn’t feel strong enough. Their whole performance is high energy and makes you want to get up, to dance, to sing along. So they do.

Julie downs the rest of her drink and then clutches Flynn’s hand as she pulls them through the crowd until they’re in the middle of the floor. Bodies pushing in around them, all jumping and swaying and some even singing along when they know the words. She lets herself get lost in the music, in the feeling of the drums through the floor and how the bass line reverberates through her.

It’s when they start In Your Starlight that Luke’s eyes find her in the crowd.

She knows the moment he does because his eyes widen a little and his fingers slip, playing the wrong note as he stumbles a half step backwards. And then he’s smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners as he nods at her, tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth before he starts to sing. While looking directly at her.

Maybe it’s the alcohol in her system or Flynn’s pep talks have finally clicked in her head, but she doesn’t look away, she sings his song back to him. She liked to think the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks by the end of the song is because of that.

They close with a cover of Everybody Talks and when Luke raises an eyebrow at her and nods to the side of the floor where the booths are she doesn’t hesitate to nod with a grin.

“Thank you! We’re Sunset Curve!” Luke shouts into his mic, wiping sweat off his face as he grins out the crowd.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie chimes in, winking at someone and then they’re walking off the stage and Julie is pulling Flynn over to the booths. For a moment, she hesitates as she looks at them, not sure where to go because they’re all occupied. And then a familiar face is waving them over and Julie breaths out a sigh and a smile at the sight of Willie.

“Molina! I didn’t know you were coming!” He grins as Flynn slips into the booth first and Julie slides in after her.

“Sort of a last minute thing,” she laughs nervously, because now that she’s here and knows they’re about to come out she’s suddenly second guessing everything. “This is my best friend Flynn. Flynn, Willie, he works at Etched in Ink too.”

“Oh! You did the logo right?” Flynn asks and then they’re talking about designs and colours and how sometimes a simple line drawing is better. Julie’s half listening, trying to feign interest but her eyes keep going to the side door that she knows leads to backstage, waiting for it to open.

Somehow, despite constantly looking, she still misses them coming out because suddenly a pair of arms are around Willie’s neck and a blonde head is pressing a kiss into his cheek. Julie looks up to find Luke already grinning at her, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Hey,” she thinks he’d have probably whispered it if they weren’t in a crowded club that’s started blaring music again.

“Hi,” and she waves.

God, why did she just wave at him? Before she can do something else embarrassing, like hiding her face in her hands, an arm appears around Luke’s neck and Reggie’s face is next to his grinning from ear to ear.

“You must be Julie.” Something about the way he says her names makes her want to run, like she’s walked into a trap without realising it. Instead she nods hesitantly.

“That’s me. You must be Reggie,” she tries to imitate the way he said her name but she’s not sure it works, but Luke elbows his friend in the side and then he’s sliding into the empty space next to her.

“I’m Alex. Ignore Reg. What he meant to say was we’ve heard a lot about you,” Alex smiles at her and there’s a teasing sort of tone in his words that makes her think she’s missing out on a joke. But she focuses on the other bit of information and turns to look at Luke.

“Aw, you’ve been talking about me?” She nudges his knee with her own, only realising just how close they’re sitting after the fact.

Luke shrugs at her, but he’s smiling and there’s a flush to his face that could be left over from their performance but she doesn’t think so, “Course I have.”

The simple way he says it, accompanied by the unbroken eye contact is enough to make her blush.

“I’m Flynn by the way. Julie’s best friend,” Flynn cuts through, leaning on the table to look directly at Luke who finally looks away from her and there’s definitely a flush on his cheeks.

“Did you uh, like the show?” He asks, and it’s to the table, but he glances at her.

“You guys were awesome, as always,” Willie says, lifting his hands that have been linked with Alex’s since the three boys sat down and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“You were better than I expected you to be,” Flynn shrugs and Alex lets out a disgruntled sound as he looks at her which starts a debate on what she thought they were going to be like. But Julie isn’t paying much attention and neither is Luke, because he’s looking at her expectantly for her answer.

She considers for a moment, tilting her head as she looks up at him, “You were–– you were amazing up there. More than amazing but I don’t know the word to describe it. All of you, but–– I liked watching you the most. You’re–– spectacular.”

“Really?” His eyes are searching her face, as if he can tell just by looking at her if she’s lying, but she just nods her head at him and smiles, he nods his head a little, biting his lip as he smiles too.

“Though I do have question why the fuck you’re wearing a beanie.”

“I told you it was stupid!” Reggie shouts and his hand is reaching across the table to hover in front of Julie’s face, waiting for a high five. Luke shakes his head at her, but she grins and claps her hand to the bassists.

“I thought we were friends,” Luke whines, a hand over his heart as he pouts at her.

“The beanie is so stupid,” is all she says, giggling as he pouts more and pulls the hat off his head, hair sweaty and a mess and she tries really hard not to look at his arms as he runs his fingers through the brown locks. Biting her lip again as she looks away, her eyes catch Alex’s who shoots her a knowing grin and she’s suddenly very grateful for the low lighting as she blushes.

“You really liked the show, though?” Reggie asks, bringing them back to the original question.

“You guys were great,” she smiles at him and Alex, “I especially like the drum solo in Lakeside Reflection? And oh my god the way you go back and forth in the bridge for Late Last Night, is amazing. Have you ever thought about mixing up the order you come in on it?”

She glances over at Luke as she says it, and there’s a moment, where their eyes meet when he’s got this soft sort of look on his face, like she’s once again handed him another puzzle piece and then she blinks and it’s gone and he launches into talking about their songs.

Later, after Flynn has unlocked her dorm room and the two of them have collapsed on her bed giggling and exhausted, Julie pulls her phone out of her bag and finally texts the number she saved hours ago back in the shop.

Luke replies within seconds and Julie clutches her phone to her chest with a giddy smile as Flynn teases her for being in love. She doesn’t even know what to say to deny it.

They start texting a lot after that. Silly memes they see and questions about if modern rock is better than classic and do different coloured roses mean different things.

It feels –– and Julie hasn’t said it out loud but she thinks it an awful lot –– like they’ve become real friends. Which makes it so much more awkward as her stupid crush on him grows. Because now he’s more than just the hot guitarist next door that she occasionally talks to. Now he’s Luke, the hot guitarist from next door who she talks to every day and is her friend.

Flynn just laughs at her, insisting there’s really no issue here and that she should just ask him out already so that she can sort out their social media situation without seeming pushy. Julie pointed out she could just offer but Flynn has said that would be weird.

And okay so, logically, Julie knows that he probably does like her. They’d spent the whole night after his show pressed together in that booth, knees touching and talking about whatever came to mind and she’d finally gotten a chance to look at the tattoo on his side.

(The detailed heart and a gramophone horn and the music notes that she’d hummed out loud. She could swear his eyes dipped to her lips as she did so and Julie had almost reached out to trace the lines inked into his skin. Instead she’d looked at his arm, at the tattoos littering his skin and listened as he explained some of them to her. The story of his life, really. She’d started tracing the outline of the guitar on his forearm, the year when he’d first met Alex and Reggie inked at the base, when she’d started talking.

“My mom had tattoos. We were supposed to go and get one together when I turned eighteen,” she’d trailed her finger tips up the neck and over the scrap of cloth attached to it, vaguely noting the way he seemed to shiver, “We had the designs all picked out and I promised her I’d still get mine. But… I’ve been putting it off,” she’d smiled ruefully up at him then, nose wrinkling.

Luke had put his hand over hers on his arm, thumb gently running over the back of her hand as he’d said, “When you’re ready to do it, book it for a Saturday.”)

And he’d started lingering on Tuesdays when he passed her her coffee, to talk about their weekends and if they had busy days and if she wanted to come watch them rehearse on Wednesday and how Bobby had apparently tried to reach out after the flowers. None of them had responded because now the ball was in their court and when they got to initiate the cutting off it was better.

And if she looks at it all. The little moments and touches and smiles and lingering looks, Julie logically knows that he likes her. But there’s still a chance, small as it might be, that he doesn’t.

And it terrifies her.

Surprisingly, or really, unsurprisingly, reassurance comes in the form of a drummer and bassist strolling into the shop on Tuesday morning two weeks after she saw them play for the first time. Julie smiles at them, albeit a little awkwardly, closing her pen in her notebook as she takes in the coffee holder in Alex’s hands and the way Reggie looks around the place in wonder.

She hadn’t seen Luke this morning, though he’d sent a text to say he was sick and wouldn't be around, but that doesn’t explain why she has two members of Sunset Curve in her shop.

“Hey guys, you need anything?” she raises an eyebrow at them, folding her hands on top of her notebook.

“Nah, just here to drop this off for Luke,” Alex smiles at her, freeing the coffee cup and putting it down in front of her.

Julie blinks at it, mouth parting slightly before looking back at Alex confused and chokes out, “What?

“He said he brings you coffee on Tuesday mornings and asked us to do it today because he’s being all dramatic in bed over the flu,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond sort of tone in his voice that does little to help her confusion.

“But he–– I don’t…” Julie trails off as she frowns at the coffee. Luke was sick and he was still worrying about her getting her coffee? She feels like the world is spinning on a different axis.

“Can you make me a yellow bouquet for under $20?” Reggie pulls her out of her spiral and she blinks up at the two of them, catching the tail end of the glare Alex shoots at him and the shrug Reggie gives in response. But it pulls her out and she blows out a breath, pushing thoughts of Luke to the side as she nods.

“Any flowers in particular?” She asks.

Half an hour later the boys leave, with Reggie clutching his little posey of various yellow flowers –– that cost over $20 but if she could change Luke only $15 on a $50 bouquet, she could make an exception for the happiest bassist she’d ever met –– and Alex sniffing the twelve roses he’d bought for Willie. But not before they’d both leaned on the counter as she tied a bow around the posey and Alex had stated, “Luke’s pretty dumb sometimes.”

Julie had fumbled the ribbon as she looked at them confused.

“What we mean is,” Reggie cut in “He’s our best friend, and the best song writer we know. But when it comes to his feelings and doing something with them, he’s dumb. And always pretty terrified.”

She’s still thinking about it an hour later as she sweeps up cuts and hums along with the radio. She taps her pen on her notebook as she looks down at the page she had been doodling on, and then throws it down to pick up her phone. It only takes a few minutes of googling for the number she needs and ten minutes later she’s got plans for next Saturday at one thirty.

“Julie,” Victoria’s voice cuts through her thoughts and she turns from where she’d been staring at a bucket of sunflowers to blink at her tia.

“Hm?”

“You’re going to be late mi ciel,” and she nodded to next door, eyebrows raised. Blinking, Julie glances at her phone to check the time and swears.

“Fuck. Right. I’ll um, I’ll come show you when it’s done,” she smiles at her aunt who smiles back, dropping one eye in a wink before she gets out the door.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll see it tomorrow at dinner,” Victoria blows her kiss before the door shuts and then Julie is on the sidewalk and Etched in Ink is eight steps away. Blowing out a breath she pushes her phone into the back pocket of her dungarees and walks.

When she opens the door there’s music playing faintly in the background and she smiles at how different it is from the last time she was stood here. This time she recognises the Sunset Curve poster on the wall and shakes her head at Luke’s shameless promoting. Like last time there’s no one at the front desk as she walks up to it, leaning her hip on the edge as she tilts her head to try and hear for someone in the back.

“Hello?” she calls and then there’s something crashing to the ground and someone letting out a string of curses before Luke comes stumbling through the archway and up to the desk looking breathless.

“Hey!”

She’s not as taken off guard by the sleeveless shirts and curling hair and teasing smirk as she was last time, but it still takes all her willpower to not just stare at him. Especially as he leans his hands on the desk, muscles and tattoos on display. She’s starting to think he does that on purpose.

“I have an appointment,” she breathes, looking at him and they’re so close she thinks she could count his eyelashes if she had time. God she wanted time to count his eyelashes.

“I know, I saw,” he smiles softly at her as pushes off from the desk and gestures for her to walk into the main room, “I was just getting things set up. Come on.”

Luke guides her with a hand on the small of her back over to the area he’s got set up, wagging his brows a little as she sits down that makes her laugh. Julie looks at the collection of inks and needles and bottles on the little tables next to her chair, chewing on her lip with a growing sense of trepidation.

“So,” Luke plots himself down on the stool, feet on the bar as he spins to face her with a smile, “You got a design for me to follow?”

“Oh! Yeah, right,” she sits up to dig through the front pocket of her dungarees and pull out a sheet of plain paper that’s been folded and refolded too many times to count over the last three years, she hands it to Luke, suddenly nervous about what he’ll think.

Carefully, as if he knows how important it is, he unfolds the sheet of paper and smooths it out on the arm of her chair, biting his lip as he looks it over and quietly, she can hear him humming the notes to himself as he tries to work out what the song is.

“It’s um––” Julie clears her throat as Luke looks up at her, gesturing to the drawing and starts singing faintly, “You are my sunshine.”

Luke looks at her with wide eyes and an expression she can’t quite understand and looks back at the page, quick to fill the silence, “Mom was going to get ‘my only sunshine’ but–– it’s what she used to sing to me when I was little and wouldn’t go to sleep, and it’s the first song I learnt on piano so it’s y’know, sentimental I guess.”

He still hasn’t said anything and Julie’s starting to get worried she’s done something wrong when he blows out a breath and blinks at her, small smile on his lips, “It’s beautiful.”

Then he turns to the table, gathering supplies and pulling on gloves and when he turns back to her he seems to have gotten control over his emotions again and is grinning at her, antiseptic wipe in one hand and numbing gel in the other.

“Are we feeling brave?” He teases and Julie rolls her eyes at him, laying her arm flat on the arm rest, wrist up and flipping him the finger before relaxing them back down.

“Just start stabbing me in the arm with a little needle Patterson.”

“Ooh brave it is huh.”

Gently, he holds her wrist with one hand as he cleans her skin and doesn’t let go when he turns to throw it away and to pick up the tattoo gun. His fingers tap on her palm as he looks at her, raising an eyebrow, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” she blows out a breath and nods at him. But he still hesitates for a heartbeat, searching her eyes before he smiles gently and brings the gun down to her skin.

At the first stab of pain Julie hisses in a breath, fingers of her other hand gripping at the spare armrest and when Luke looks up at her she nods her head with a smile that’s almost a cringe, “I’m okay. Keep going.”

And he does.

After a while it doesn’t hurt quite so much, and she loosens her grip on the arm of the chair. She still hisses in a breath on occasion but it’s bearable, and she can sort of understand why people like getting tattoos. It doesn’t hurt that from this position she has a clear view of his bare arms and can stare at them shamelessly for as long as his head is bent over her wrist.

“Is that––” Julie lets out a laugh, eyes squinting as she tries to peer a little closer as the tattoo above his elbow, “Is that a hotdog?”

“Huh? Oh,” he looks up, blinking at her and then at his arm, joining in with her laugh as he shakes his head. “Yeah. Me and the boy got wicked bad food poisoning from some bad dogs when we were seventeen. Almost died.”

Julie blinks at him and tries really hard to stop her laughter, but it keeps bubbling past her lips, “So you got a tattoo to commemorate the time you nearly died?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, grinning at her before going back to work.

They make idle chit chat for the rest of her tattoo, talking about music they love and films they want to see and how Willie’s been trying to teach Alex to skateboard for 2 years and can still barely stand on the thing.

“And you’re done,” the buzzing suddenly cuts off and it takes Julie a moment to get used to lack of it, blinking at Luke who’s nodding down at her arm.

Carefully, slowly, she lifts up her arm to inspect his work. Five lines spanning the width of her wrist with little music notes dotted along it and she hums the tune to herself, blinking back the tears that fill her eyes as she just looks at it.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers, biting her lip as she looks at him. “Thank you.”

Luke shakes his head, pulling the gloves off his hands and balling them up before throwing them into the bin and picks up a roll of plastic wrap, tearing off a length to spread on the arm of the chair, patting it for her to put her arm back down on, “Nah, all I did was basically trace your work.”

“No for––” she gestures with her free hand around them, trying to encompass everything of the last two months. For the coffees and the laughter and the music and the conversation. “So much,” is what she settles on, and just hopes he gets it.

When he’s finished wrapping her wrist he trails his fingers up to her hand, squeezes her fingers once and then stands up, and she hurries to follow, not wanting him to let go of her hand just yet. Julie follows him back to the front of the shop, their fingers still linked and she tries to listen to him talk about aftercare and which creams are best and what to avoid. But all she can really think about is the calluses on his fingers and how she wants to know what they’d feel like brushing across her lips.

So Julie pulls them to a stop before they reach the desk, blowing out a breath as she looks up at him. She’s just gotten her first tattoo and only cried at the end, she’s feeling brave. She can ask the hot guitarist out.

“I was wondering if um you maybe–– if you wanted too––” she stutters, brows furrowing a little as she tries to get the words out and Luke just smiles at her, which isn’t helping. “Stop doing that with your face, I’m trying to ask you something,” she mutters.

It just makes him smile wider, and his fingers are detangling themselves from hers and she honest to god lets out a small whine at the sudden loss of contact. Luke’s smile turns into a smirk as he hears it, tailing his fingers up her arm and over her shoulder and up her neck and suddenly he’s cupping her cheek and Julie thinks she’s forgotten how to breath.

“Jules,” he whispers, leaning towards her and she can feel his breath ghosting across her face as she lets out a noncommittal sound, “Can I kiss you?”

A breath rushes out of her and her hands skim up his biceps and around his neck, “God please do.”

And he does.

It’s soft, just a press of their lips against each other at first and then Luke brushes his thumb across the top of her cheek and she lets out a sigh, pulling him closer as he slips his tongue into her mouth.

There’s teeth nipping at lips and her fingers running through his hair and Luke chuckling at her whine of protest when his lips leave hers to trail across her jaw, down her neck where he sucks and she moans and he has the audacity to laugh again.

So she pokes her fingers into his sides, grinning triumphantly when he tries to wiggle away, scrunching his nose up as he looks down at her.

“That’s rude,” he mutters, but there’s no heat behind it and he presses a kiss into the corner of her mouth.

“Hm, I’m sure I can think of some way to make it up to you,” Julie purses her lips, pretending to be in thought before leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him, slowly, drawing it out.

When they break apart this time they’re both a little breathless and smiling giddy smiles.

“What were you going to ask me?” he whispers, brushing his nose across hers as he tries to pull her closer and it takes Julie a moment to understand what he’s asking, her mind blank on anything that’s not Luke lips on her skin or his fingers trailering over her neck.

“Oh. Um I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner. With me. Like a date,” she wrinkles her nose at how awkward the question comes out but Luke leans back a little to grin down at her.

“Julie Molina, are you asking me out?”

“Oh shut up, you kissed me first,” she grumbles, tilting her head forward to hide in his chest and Luke laughs, she can feel it rumble in his chest and it makes her giggle a little too.

“Yeah I did. Best decision I’ve made since playing my demo way too loud,” he sounds proud and he presses a kiss into the top of her head, “I’d love to go get dinner with you.”

“Hm,” Julie agrees, trying to hide her smile in his terribly pointless shirt. Honestly, she’s never been more glad that he played his music too loud, it was totally worth the headache she had for the rest of the afternoon.

“Hey Luke,” she pulls back a little to look up at him, and he raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah?”

“Did I ever tell you I have a thing for guitarists with tattoos?” She smiles innocently up at him and is rewarded with the same curling smiling on his lips from the first time they met.

[ flower meanings: - pink peonies: passive aggressive anger - pink geraniums: stupidity - dark purple carnations: disappointment - meadoweed: uselessness - orange lilies: hatred (if i got any of these wrong please let me know i got my information from google fghdj) ]

ao3 link

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #julie molina x luke patterson #jatp fic #alex mercer #reggie peters #willie #flynn #*fics #people i had a freaking blast writing this lemme tell ya #bobby is mentioned but im afraid he is a dickhead my bad

51 notes · View notes

fallowdoe · 4 years ago

Text

All roads lead to Hell

MC gets kidnapped and has to make their way through Hell to reunite with everyone.

GN!reader x everyone (can be treated as platonic/romantic)

Trigger warnings for this chapter: none

I apologise for the quality of writing however this is a translated version of my fic.

If anyone is interested in that I was listening to Casey tells the truth, the whole Split soundtrack is my big inspiration for this story. I’d advise onto playing it in the background while reading.

Chapter 1 - Prolouge ⇒

A few candles lit up the room. The gentle light was adding to its already mysterious aura. Solomon’s dorm was filled with all kind of grimoires and spellbooks. The floor was covered with tons of torn-out pages and patterns drawn on a yellowish paper.

Trying out one spell after another MC seemed to grow more and more annoyed. The upcoming exam was one of the most important ones and Solomon’s constant teasing wasn’t the most helpful.

"Focus or you won’t get anything done, MC." The sorcerer stated while leaning against a wall. He wasn’t even trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

"I am focused" They mumbled irritated. It was their ninth try of casting this, so-called easy, spell. A marble laying on the table seemed to look at them pitifully. It was a one bastard piece of glass. Even more irritated MC moved their hand above it once again.

"Neque ultra intuebitur eum" they mumbled. The space around them seemed to start drawing energy towards their hand. A quiet electric buzz filled their ears and they could feel their cheeks heat up. But just as they were about to direct the energy towards the toy it would suddenly unload. The marble remained untouched, and MC could bet that if it was possible it’d poke its tongue at them. Or maybe even raise a very specific finger up. "Neque ultra intuebitur eum!"

Nothing.

"No! It’s impossible! It’s impossible and that’s it! You gave me a broken marble." They grunted and dramatically sat on a chair pouting.

Solomon snickered at them and approached the table. He muttered the words of the spell and the marble was gone immediately.

"Cheater. I bet it was enchanted or something."

"Maybe." He smirked. "Try again."

MC groaned under their breath but stood up again. The sorcerer walked up to them and placed his hand on their arm giving them a reassuring look. "That’s gonna be seriously lame if you fail again tho.”

They replied with a huff and tried to refocus. Closing their eyes, MC began collecting energy again. It was a weird feeling. Suddenly they’d notice that the whole room was in fact like a river full of it. Their task was to change its current toward themself. This spell didn’t require a lot of effort, only a bit of thought. Stronger spells could even sweep someone off with an uncontrolled current.

They’d never admit it but sorcerer’s touch was rather helpful. It made them feel grounded. Goosebumps rose on their hand. They cast the spell again.

"Lame." He chuckled.

"Huh?!” Their eyes shot open searching for the marble but the table was empty. They laughed and playfully punched his chest, making him laugh. "Asshole.”

Content, MC threw themself on the bed as a mark of their victory, Solomon was quick to follow.

"You realize that this was shit compared to regular magic?” watching them struggle was incredibly amusing to him, apparently.

"Like I don’t know" They frowned. He smiled in response and laid back next to them.

The silence of the room, moving flames of the candles and its overall aura was really comforting.

"You should be able to pass the exam tho" he mentioned.

"It’s a lot, you know? Everything." MC wondered.

"I know."

"I just can’t wrap my mind around it.” They began playing with their hair.

"You could do much more without a hassle.” He stated like it was something obvious and leaned on his elbows while looking at them with a smirk.

"Wow, thanks for being an asshole.” They muttered, the hair they were playing with fell on their face.

"A supportive asshole.”

"I’m not sure if I could do more.” They spoke trying to blow the curl off. Hesitation making its way in their voice. "It’s still too new and…”

”Overwhelming?”

"Yeah… Convincing someone that hell is real is one thing but throwing them inside is something else.” They followed gentle shadows of the flames on the ceiling with their eyes.

"Why? You’d prefer a flaming river and little red devils instead of your seven demon boyfriends?”

Both of them laughed at the image of the brothers' with spiked tails and tridents.

"No, I don’t think I would.”

Empty walls of RAD were enhancing every sound, making every single word echo for a few seconds before disappearing.

"MC, ya comin’ or what?" Mammon was standing at the end of the hallway talking with Beel.

"Just a second!" they screamed while taking stuff out of their locker and putting it in a bag. They were planning on returning to the House of Lamentation as soon as the school day was over to prepare for an exam. But their Devildom History textbook was nowhere to be seen. "Ugh, I left a textbook in the classroom. Wait for me, I’ll go get it!"

"Just hurry up! I’m not explainin’ to Lucifer why we’re late again!"

The palace garden was full of exotic flowers, nothing like what they’d seen before. The number of colours and shapes worked wonders, some of the plants were gently glowing and lighting up the eternal night. Some had spots and some seemed to move on their own. MC could swear that they could even hear glassy sounds of a few.

"No matter how many times I see those flowers they always amaze me.” Diavolo was lazily examining the garden grounds. "Some of them only grow here. I’m doing what I can to keep them from going extinct. The species come from all of the three realms. That’s why you can spot some familiar ones.” He explained. ”I’m hoping to replant them one day on its original grounds.”

"Thanks to magic?” MC was sipping on some tea.

"Thanks to a good gardener, actually.” Barbatos smiled.

"Oh.” Both men laughed at their confusion.

The quiet evenings in Lord Diavolo’s castle were a nice change from their usual ones. Their small chats quickly turned into a regular thing, always accompanied by a nice tea made by Barbatos.

"Magic definitely helps as well.”

The wind was shyly blowing between the palace columns. Moth-alike creatures were roaming the garden, their wings glooming in the soft darkness.

"I don’t think I can get used to it. The magic.”

"Maybe, it’s a good thing. Living in constant awe of something." The Demon Lord smiled and gave them a soothing look.

They quietly hummed in response.

Lucky for them, the classroom was open. They entered not bothering to turn the lights on. The lost textbook was waiting for them on their desk. A dark and empty classroom felt really heavy, MC grabbed the book and just as they were about to return to the hallway they noticed an envelope that must have been hidden underneath it.

"What? " They muttered. An elegant paper and a wax stamp made it look important. If not for their name written on the back they’d probably leave it alone in fear of getting hexed or pranked. Instead, curiosity made them break the stamp.

"Geez, what is taking ‘em so long?" Mammon huffed. They were gone for only a few minutes but making HIM wait was quite an offence.

"Maybe we should go and check on them" Beel mumbled from between his sandwich bites.

"Hm, to get lost on your way for a textbook. Dumb human." Mammon stated annoyed. He was energetically tapping his foot.

"Come on, they probably locked themself in the classroom or something."

As soon as MC fished the sheet of paper from inside the letter, they started shivering. Cold air began circling them, their vision fading. All the sounds of the world around them suddenly gone. Sudden exhaustion taking over them, an empty void. It was a calm, soothing sensation. Like falling asleep…

"It’s empty” Beel stated exiting another classroom.

"Ow, come on! They gotta be somewhere ‘ere!" anxiety was slowly making its way in Mammon’s voice.

"Try this one – he pointed at the door on the other side of the hallway."

"If they’re not in the…" a powerful charge of energy went off when he tried to reach for the doorknob leaving both demons in shock for a second.

"MC!" Mammon bailed inside an empty classroom.

Loud voices filling the House of Lamentation kept the atmosphere tense.

"So they forgot a textbook…" Lucifer tried to keep calm, but his furrowed brows showed how tense he actually was. "…and went to get it…"

"Yeah!"

"…alone." He shot his brother a disapproving look.

A guilty nod.

"So, you went after them and discovered a sudden burst of energy in the classroom." The whole situation was more than inconvenient. It was a tragedy to be specific. An exchange student disappearing on the grounds of the academy. The exact one who couldn’t protect themself from any magic. The foreign trace of a powerful spell didn’t make the situation any better. The eldest took a quick glance across the room.

"We found this." Beel pointed at their textbook laying on the table.

"Are you sure that they just didn’t go somewhere?" Satan uttered.

"I’m tellin’ ya how it went! They’re just gone like that!”

"They sure can’t be far, right?" Asmo’s question was left unanswered.

A motion of loud voices filled the room, everyone discussing what might have happened.

Lord Diavolo approached the table with a stern look on his face. If it was true that something happened to MC while they were at RAD then he was the one at fault for not keeping the academy grounds safe for them. He took the book and examined it. Devildom history. It had MC’s name written on the first page. Nothing appeared to be wrong with it. Just a regular textbook. "It’s just a textbook if anything had to do with their disappearance it couldn’t be it. Is Solomon on his way here?"

"Yes, I called him a while ago he should be here anytime." Lucifer confirmed.

It wasn’t even about the project anymore, MC was missing and it filled all of them with an unpleasant feeling of guilt.

"Can’t Barbatos use his powers and find them?”

The butler sadly shook his head.

What previously was a state of anxiety, now was slowly shifting into a panic whit every passing hour. As long as they were alone in Devildom, they definitely weren’t safe.

"Something happened to MC?!" Luke’s voice caught their attention.

Both angels and Solomon were standing in the entrance to the dining room, looking rather startled.

"We don’t know yet." Diavolo stated calmly.

They joined everyone by the table and Solomon took the textbook. He gave Diavolo a specific look and the demon lord nodded in response. He started studying it.

"Are they safe?! Why aren’t you worried?!" the young angel kept questioning.

"I’m sure that MC’s okay." Simeon’s white lies weren’t exactly suited for an angel.

"Of course, everyone is worried." Belphegor stated irritated. "That’s why we called you!"

Solomon tried to quiet out the rambling and kept examining the book, but just like Diavolo confirmed, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about it. That was unless he opened it and a single sheet of paper fell out.

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

194 notes · View notes

wlntrsldler · 4 years ago

Text

Chérie (Bucky Barnes Imagine)

yoncexl submitted:

Can I have a enemies to lovers with Bucky? Pleaseee where y/n is a sunshine and Bucky a grumpy old man tysm 💖💖

Anonymous said:

64 from the prompt list w Bucky? hehe love u (“I think your cat wants to kill me.”)

PROMPT: Bucky doesn’t understand why Y/N is always so happy. He never thought he would be one of the people who got entranced by her until he was.

Warnings: fluff, some language

Song: Cherry by Harry Styles

Sure, maybe Bucky was being irrational. It wasn’t like he meant to be annoyed by your bubbly personality but how could someone be so goddamn happy all the time?

Clearly there were more things to complain about and mourn than there was to celebrate. You were in the midst of a pandemic, Steve came back as a wrinkly old man, you lost two good friends, the world was burning to ashes and yet, here you were. Happy as a peach.

You squealed loudly, interrupting a napping Bucky in the common room, after ripping open the 70th package (It was more like 4th package but Bucky liked to exaggerate) you received in the mail. He opened his left eye, wanting to revert back to the moments before your arrival when there was peace and quiet. He saw you stare fondly at the new record you just bought. Another pop album, he assumed. That’s all you ever listened to.

“Do you mind?” He huffed, twisting his body to face you. His eyes were now wide open, unable to return to his peaceful slumber. “Some of us are sleeping.”

Bucky knew he didn’t really have a right to be mad at you. He had his own room to take naps in and he could easily just walk over and do just that. He just liked giving you attitude, hoping you’d return it one day. But that day was not today.

“Sorry,” You blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Just got carried away. Look what I got.”

Bucky’s expression remained cold. It was a sight to see, really. The young, bright, and cheerful expression on your face. The wide smile traveling from your lips to the crinkles by your eyes. Your head was peeking up above the large record in your hand.

And then there was Bucky. Big and built, hair in disarray, with his lips pressed in a thin line. His arms were crossed on his chest, biceps prominent. He stared at you with a blank expression, counting the seconds before you finally retreated the record you shoved in his face.

“I wanted to get the limited edition one but that was sold out.”

Harry Styles: Fine Line, he read the tag on the corner of the plastic. The name was familiar. He remembered it displayed on the car radio in the last mission you two shared. Bucky remembered the loud, off-key, singing of you and Peter in the backseat of the car, as he sat beside a driving Sam. Sam wasn’t a fan of the music but he was a fan of seeing Bucky’s irritated expression so he let you and Peter control the music for the four hour drive back.

It was hell.

You finally removed the record from his space and admired it. You sighed in adoration, clutching the disk close to your heart. You began to pick up the scraps of delivery papers that littered the floor and started walking towards your bedroom.

Finally, Bucky sighed in content, some peace and quiet.

Just as a small smile started to form on Bucky’s face while he started to get comfortable again on the couch, a faint noise was heard from down the hall. He groaned loudly, grabbing one of the couch cushions to cover his ears. Of course you’d play it the minute you got it to your record player.

It didn’t fully drown out the noise in the background, irritating Bucky some more. So much for sleep.

He wouldn’t ever admit it to your face but your music wasn’t that bad.

“Uhhh, Buck?” You questioned from behind him. He rolled his eyes, earning a slap on the arm from Sam. Be nice, that’s what his look told Bucky. “I think your cat wants to kill me.”

“That means I taught him well.” Bucky muttered under his breath. A part of him didn’t want you to hear it, but he secretly hoped you did.

“Dude.” Sam smacked him behind his head. “Really?”

You laughed wholeheartedly, emerging from the kitchen with Alpine in your arms. “Never mind, he just wanted me to pick him up.”

Bucky’s eye twitched upon seeing you cuddle with his pet. He wasn’t necessarily jealous, per se, he was just aggravated that everyone and everything seemed to love you. It was like they all gravitated towards you and he didn’t understand why.

Okay.. maybe he did. You were a good person. Nearly perfect, even. But that’s why Bucky didn’t like you. There was no way someone could ever be that perfect.

Firstly, it wasn’t really fair. Nobody should ever be this like-able. Or kind. Or funny. Or pretty. Or strong. Or passionate. Or fucking perfect. It was really just unfair.

Secondly, Bucky knew he had some problems. He knew he didn’t really think much like everyone else. Sam called him mentally unstable for not being able to be civil with you, more than a few times, and Bucky actually agreed. Had he met you before all of this happened, he would’ve liked you. Hell, he may have even had a crush on you because back then he was like you. He was hopeful, the “glass half-full” type of person. But after everything that happened in his life, he changed. He just didn’t get how you managed to always look on the bright side even when the world was crumbling at your feet.

It was Alpine’s purring that snapped him out of his thoughts. The cat was now rubbing against his calf after you put him down to exit the room. Bucky smiled softly at the cat that Steve got him a few weeks ago. Alpine licked Bucky’s metal hand a few times before making his way to his little cat bed in the common room.

“You need to play nice.” Sam warned him, taking a sip from his coffee mug. “I still don’t get why you hate her so much.”

“Something about her seems off to me.” Bucky shrugged, cleaning up his finished plates. That wasn’t necessarily a lie. “I don’t know.”

“No,” Sam replied, following Bucky’s actions. He dumped his plates on top of the ones in Bucky’s arms. “Something about you is off.”

He glared at his friend who was already halfway out of the room before he tried to call out for him to do his own dishes. Bucky accepted defeat and made his way to the kitchen to start washing the dishes. He saw your washed dishes placed neatly on the drying rack, clear that it had just been washed. He silently thanked you for always cleaning up after yourself. His eyes drifted to the pile of dirty plates that slowly accumulated from the Avenger’s breakfast festivities. Unlike the rest of them, he sighed.

Bucky placed the plates down for a quick moment to retrieve his phone and airpods from his pockets. He unlocked it and searched through the Spotify app. He started to look at the rest of the Avenger’s playlist. For a special agent who valued confidentiality, you sure did want people to know exactly what you were listening to. Bucky learned to turn that feature off after Sam bullied him after he saw that Bucky was listening to the Hairspray soundtrack.

His eyes locked at your Spotify playlist. Hmm, he thought, why not? Bucky pressed at the familiar title of the album the link took him to. He inserted the airpods in his ears and hit shuffle.

The songs made the chore of cleaning up after the Avengers a little less tedious.

You were silently reading the new book that came in your subscription box on the balcony of the tower. Nothing could be heard for miles besides the sounds of nature and the faint noise of cars passing by the highways.

Most of the team had gone out to get dinner but you opted to stay in and get caught up with your book. A blanket was draped carelessly over your legs, shielding your bare legs from the cold. You turned the page, your thumb finding its way between your lips. It was a habit you could never seem to break. You did it subconsciously, especially when you were deep in thought or extremely focused on something.

You were engrossed in your book, not hearing the knocking that came from the other side of the balcony door. Bucky looked at you from behind the clear, sliding door. He squinted trying to read the cover of the book you were reading. It was different from the one he saw you reading a month ago. Your ability to read and finish books quickly intrigued him since he was someone who could never sit in a chair without fidgeting, much less read a 300-something page book.

He realized he was staring for far too long. Bucky entered the balcony and cleared his throat, causing you to drop your book and look up at him. You offered a warm smile, “Hi, Buck. What’s up?”

“Me and Wanda are ordering in,” He explained, his eyes drifting to the cover of your book. Only Love is Real by Brian Weiss, he noted in his head. “Did you want anything?”

You pondered the question for a minute, “Maybe some fried chicken.”

“Okay sounds good,” He replied. “You should come in soon, it’s getting late.”

You looked around. It had gotten significantly darker than when you first came out. The lamp beside you that helps you with reading masked the sinking sun. “What time is it?”

Bucky pulled out his phone to check the time. You caught a glimpse of his lock screen, eyes growing wide when you noticed the too familiar song and album cover in the front. Cherry by Harry Styles. “9:21PM.”

He looked up to see you fighting back a small smile. His eyebrows furrowed, staring back at you. You noticed his worried look and immediately straightened up. “Thanks, Buck. I’ll come in soon.”

Bucky nodded and turned around to return back into the compound. You stayed quiet about what you saw but you couldn’t help the large smile overtaking your features. You’ll tease him about this one day, just not tonight.

You focused back on your book, your mind becoming one with the words on the page again. You spread out the blanket some more to cover your legs better and cuddled into the softness of the outdoor sofa. The sounds of the city was being drowned out, however, by the faint sounds of strings and the French voice of Camille Rowe.

“Y/N ordered another package.” Sam laughed, picking up the boxes left at their doorstep. “Oh, hold on a second.”

Bucky’s head perked up at Sam’s words knowing that there’s going to be some teasing that will follow. The mundane boxes were almost, always yours. You were the only one in the tower who liked to spend your money on things like clothes, accessories, and sometimes snacks. The rest of the team just ordered it from Stark Industries and it would magically appear in their compound in less than 24 hours.

“Did you order something from Ebay, Barnes?”

He snatched the box from Sam, grunting in response to his question. “Isn’t it a federal offense to go through people’s mail?”

“No, it’s a federal offense to open people’s mail. There’s a difference.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and brought the package to his room. Once the door was shut, he let himself smile at the brown box in his hands. He sat down on his bed and started unwrapping it. His eyes glossed over the vinyl record. Limited Edition, the sticker on the corner stated. It was the one you told him about.

Maybe it did dent his bank account more than he would have liked it to but he knew you would love it. He was just sitting in his bedroom and he heard you quietly sobbing, a few nights ago. If he didn’t have super-soldier hearing he would’ve definitely missed it. It was quiet but it was there.

The familiar tune of Cherry played from your record player. Bucky sat up in his bed, not knowing if he should come in and comfort you. It was the way that you halted your sobs, to make yourself more discrete, when the song ended, that broke his heart into pieces. He couldn’t stop himself from getting up his bed and walked over to the room beside him.

Before he could knock, he stopped himself. What would he even say to you? He just stood there in front of your bedroom door, not knowing what to do next. He hasn’t necessarily been the kindest to you, even when all you’ve been was pleasant. He really didn’t have the right to even try to comfort you.

He sighed sadly and retreated back to his bedroom.

So now here he was, three days after that night, with the vinyl you’ve wanted for a while, that he paid extra for expedited shipping for. Bucky dusted off the plastic covering of the vinyl and made his way to your room. His plan was to place it on your bed and walk away, he wasn’t expecting you to be there. You were supposed to be on a mission.

Bucky’s eyes widened, frantically hiding the vinyl behind his back. Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at him confused. “What are you doing here, Buck?”

“I thought you were out.”

“Decided to stay in. What are you doing here?” You asked again. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company and all, but I’m just curious.”

Of course, Bucky thought. Only you would be trying to assure him that you enjoy his company when he invaded your privacy by barging in your room. “I have something for you.”

Your eyes lit up at his words. You turned to face him on your bed, your legs criss-crossed. “You do?”

Bucky extended his arms out, showing you the vinyl that he got for you. You gasped, leaning over to touch it. Tears welled up in your eyes, words getting stuck in your throat. “I hope you like it.”

“Oh, Bucky,” You sighed, holding the vinyl by your chest. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” He said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he answered you.

“Why did you get this for me?”

“I heard you the other night,” He confessed, taking a seat beside you. “I heard you crying. I-I was gonna come in and try to comfort you but I don’t really have much expertise on that. Plus, I haven’t really been the nicest to you, I wouldn’t know where to start to try to make you feel better. Then I remembered you talking about this record. Music seems to make you happy, I think, so I bought it.”

You placed the vinyl safely beside you and engulfed Bucky in a tight hug. He was stiff for a few seconds, not knowing how to respond to such physical affection, but he later warmed up. His arms wrapped themselves around you, letting himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, smelling your sweet perfume. You heard him sigh under your touch and you started to wonder when was the last time he was held like this.

“You’re amazing,” You murmured in his shoulder, pulling away. You kissed his cheek sweetly, a blush creeping up your cheeks once you saw the redness on his. “Thank you, Buck. I can’t explain how much this means to me.”

He smiled at you, genuinely. It was the first time he smiled at you without it being partnered with a smart, witty remark. It wasn’t sarcastic or anything, just pure fondness. “Anytime, Y/N.”

You two just sat there staring at each other for a few moments before he cleared his throat and got up. “I should leave you to it. I know how you like to listen to records the minute you get them.”

Your heart swelled at his words. You never noticed how much he actually paid attention to you. “Wait, Buck. Do you wanna stay and listen to it with me?”

He took a look at you, staring up at him with hopeful eyes. He was silently hoping that you would ask him to stay but now that those words did leave your lips, all the life was winded right out of him. You liked his presence. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love yours.

“Let’s see what all the hype is about.” He teased, taking a seat beside you again.

“Oh you’ll love it,” You smirked, remembering the time you saw that he was listening to the album on his phone. “He’s great.”

“I doubt it.”

You continued to fight off the goofy smile on your face as Bucky tried to act like he hasn’t listened to the album before. You looked at his expression when the familiar tune of Cherry started playing. You pretended to look away, getting on your phone to look busy. Your eyes looked up at Bucky who was discretely mouthing the words to the song.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier one shot #winter soldier fluff #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x yn #winter soldier x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #the avengers #frances writes #frances song fics

280 notes · View notes