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strwbrryblues · 2 years ago

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drunken words are sober thoughts

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Exes to Lovers AU, Non-idol AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Talks about insecurities, Alcohol intake (please drink responsibly!)

Word Count: 2.7k

Synopsis: Drunkenness can either trigger one to make a mistake. You can say yours was a blessing in disguise.

A/N: Hello! Back with another short fic! I'm still not done with finals, maybe a week or two more, but I'll leave this fic here because so suddenly, I thought of this trope when I saw a post on twt 😭

Anyways, your thoughts about the story are welcome as always! please 🙏 i really do love getting feedbacks about my writing, it really helps me as a writer 😭 if you're too shy, my anon ask is always open! (i just recently fixed that one so yeah, I hope it's functioming well 😭) I'm just too busy sometimes to reply, or just I don't know what to reply, but I really do love all the comments and reblogs with texts or tags 🥺

But yeah, I hope everyone's doing well! I f you need someone to talk to I'm always here! I don't mind rants or small talks! 💗💃

“Another shot for the beautiful lady!” Chan hollers at the top of his lungs. You giggled, the sight of his never disappearing dimples sent your heart soaring. He’s as endearing as ever even when you’re both drunk as heck.

“Hyung, come on, you’re both drunk.” Changbin tries to stop you two from downing more alcohol, but the older just waves him off.

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Binnie. We’re not harming anyone!” He bellows out. Changbin sighs deeply as he pushed away Minho’s head from his shoulders.

“You too, Minho hyung. Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Changbin sighs in defeat from Minho’s drunken state, who was very much a clingy-and-affectionate drunk.

“Hehe. I have a day off tomorrow,” the older man giggles as he continues to pester Changbin.

You watched and sighed contently. You barely had time to fool around like this anymore due to workload. Ever since getting a more stable job, you’ve had lesser time to spend for yourself.

“What’s got you smiling, honey?” Chan rests his chin on the palm of his hand, as his elbow rested on the dark oak table. He gave you that beautiful smitten smile, with an all too loving gaze, and it sent your heart into a frenzy of endless thrumming.

“Just…this is beautiful,” you crossed your arms on the table. After doing so, you rested your head on your crossed arms, looking back at Chan from your position. “I haven’t had the time for myself recently. It's nice to be with you guys.” You closed your eyes, feeling the numbing headache that’s caught up from your drunken state.

“We can always hang out whenever you want, baby.” Chan whispers, sneaking a hold of your hand that peeked out from your crossed arms.

There was a moment of silence that hang itself over you two. In your own space, with your eyes communicating as if you were connected once more. Before it broke in itself after Changbin finally called out to his other older friend.

“Agh! Hyung you have to go home!” The younger whined. Sadly, being the only sober one had its pros and cons. He was smart not to drink and suffer the consequences of his actions by hangover, but he had to witness all this shit and be the responsible one.

“Come on~ Just one last drink,” Minho whined as well. Throwing his hands anywhere to express his distaste for not getting more alcohol in his system.

“Chan hyung, go home with Minho hyung. I’ll fetch you both a cab. I’ll take care of noona.” He was begging at this point.

But Chan shook his head. “No! I’ll go with Y/n! I have to show her something.” He shook his head childishly, jutting out his lips as the pouty tone was evident in his voice.

Changbin looks at him worriedly, and a bit heartbroken; almost as if he was about to cry. And to be honest, he’s been that way since the start of the night. “Hyung…are you sure?” He asks, eyes nervously meeting Chan’s, as he fiddled with his fingers.

Chan only let’s out a hearty laugh, “of course! I can take care of myself and Y/n!” He takes full hold of your hand, intertwining them together and pressing a short kiss on the back of your hand. It sent you reeling with butterflies once more.

“If…if you’re so sure then…” Changbin pulls out his phone, albeit unsure, still. “I’ll phone a cab for you two, then.” He says, dialing for a cab as he watches you two with an aching heart, and worried mind.

The cab arrived, and Changbin made sure to get you two safely inside, before he went to his car, dragging along a drunk and half asleep Minho.

The ride was silent, after having Chan give the directions to his studio to the driver. He had his arms wrapped securely on your waist. There was comfort in the silence the loomed over you, and you relished being in his arms. It wasn’t a full cure, but it at least eased some of your headache.

Soon after arriving the destination, Chan had dragged you with him to the building. It was a miracle the staff had let you two inside despite how drunk the two of you looked. But Chan was thankful, because he didn’t want to miss this opportunity to show you what he’d been working on in his studio.

Ushering you inside the cramped space and familiarity of his studio, you settled yourself tiredly on the leather sofa that sat behind his desk.

“You’re going to love this, I promise you.” He giggles like a school girl. Opening up his laptop, and then going for the window where he earlier saved and closed his work. He taps on the play button, and turning up the volume just right.

He turned to you in his swiveling chair as the instrumentals started playing. The intro was calm before it progressed to a more upbeat tone. It’s resembling those of summer songs, and it quickly made you smile. Despite being mot a fan of the hot season, you agreed that most summer songs were fun and worthwhile.

Chan grins at the reaction he’s receiving. “You always love summer songs,” he says, swaying a bit as his drunken self invites you to a dance. You accepted, of course.

The two of you swayed to the music, enjoying how upbeat the music was. It brought you good vibes, despite the song lacking lyrics. The song soon ends end he was quick to go back to his seat, which left you confused.

He regrets moving quick, triggering the his headache from excessive drinking. “Hold on,” he grunts and holds onto his head. You rushed to his side, but also regretting as a wave of headache consumed you. You just held his hand in consolation.

“We both got headaches,” you blabbered out. And you don’t know why, but being drunk has lead you to find it funny. Soon, Chan was laughing along with you.

After recovering from the throbbing pain, Chan opened another file, and after clicking the play button, he sat beside you on the sofa as well.

This one was a big contrast to the upbeat, summer song from earlier. It was mellow, and smooth. But the tune was…sad.

Chan leaned back on the couch, almost slouching. The music played as he stared at the ceiling. You copied, leaning back as well and just staring upwards, however with eyes closed—savoring the instrumentals.

But then you heard a voice—particularly the one in the demo—along with Chan humming. You tried to make out of the lyrics, until you realized the song was directed at you. The lyrics a solemn anthem of what Chan had been feeling for months. And just like that, his words sobered you up.

And then he spoke.

“She’s beautiful.” A pause.

And you turned to him, waiting.

“She was my whole world…She still is. I guess I was just stupid to let go…or that, she never deserved me in the first place.” You were confused on who was referring to. Was it a different woman? “We had a beautiful boy and yet, I don’t know what came over me to just give up.”

You know now it was you he was talking about. Perhaps him getting so drunk have made him forgot he was talking to you, about you.

“Lady, was I a bad husband? She…I broke her heart, and it hurts so much seeing her that night when I told her.” That’s right, you two have been divorced for about half a year now. Suddenly, the joy and warmth that you felt earlier with him has been replaced with the overwhelming feeling of sadness and heartbreak. As if you were reliving the night he asked you for a divorce.

“I really was a bad husband. I hurt her, thinking that my career would only hindrance our relationship. But in truth, I really just gave up on my whole world for my stupid career.” He was sobbing all so suddenly, and you can’t help but do so as well, only quietly as you turned away from him.

“Lady, you don’t know how much I regret doing it. That day at the court, I was so close to crying. I wanted to stop everything but she just looked so angry. I made her mad and hurt, and I just felt that…I had not right to take it all back after putting her through so much…”

You remembered vividly as if it was only yesterday. You were feeling a lot of things, to be honest. That day, more than hurt, confusion, and sadness, you were mad. Angry. Mad and angry at how he chose to gave up on your love. On Jeongin.

Oh, God. Dearest Jeongin. Your poor son sobbed to no end as if he’d physically lost his father. He was too young to understand the concept of divorce, and yet he was pushed into it at such a young age. And although visits were allowed, Jeongin had been a lot more reluctant about everything since then because of it.

“I don’t want to let go, and yet…I feel that all I’ve put her through, was enough of a reason to say that I’m not enough for her. I really wasn’t enough.” The music stopped, and the only sound present was of his sobbing and the rustles his clothes made with every movement.

Your breathing was getting harder to control, as your nose clogged due to crying. You wanted to stay silent but it was hard to do so. And so you eventually let out the sobs that you held back, tears freely flowing but you were still turned away from Chan.

The man perks at the sound of your sobbing, and only then did his mind register once more that it was you who he is with. “Y/n! Love, why are you crying?” He was quick to wrap his arms around you. You don’t know if he was really too drunk to even process everything, to the point that he forgot where your relationship currently stands.

He cradles you in his arms, and for the first time in months, you felt at home. Safe. Despite the underlying problem that you shouldn’t even be doing this with your ex husband. That you shouldn’t be in his arms. And yet you feel like being selfish. Just this one time, and maybe then you can move on.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. You can let it all out. You know you always have me. You can always run to me and lean on me, my love.”

How it hurts you to the point that your crying was almost mixed with the anguished screams. His words should have been bringing your comfort, but with the way he’s speaking those broken promises was too much for you.

“No! No!” You started to scream. “You gave up on us! How can you say those words when you left me?” Those months of grieving for him never seemed to have left. And the stress that piled up finally reached its breaking point. And two broken souls in a cramped room, with no other form of outlet, it truly sucks to be on the receiving end for all of this sword like words.

Chan gripped tightly on his hold on yours, as if the weight of the situation has now fully sobered him up. “I’m so sorry. I’m so ashamed of myself. I regret ever hurting you. I don’t even know how to put it into words. But…those first nights after the proceedings in the court, I—”

Chan choked out the sob once more. He was heaving deeply, and then letting it all out by crying. It hurts him to think about the nights you weren’t in his arms. Those sleepless nights where he had to be tortured endlessly with the thoughts of the consequences of his actions till day breaks. It was a lot of burden for him to carry.

“There was so much regret, Y/n. I didn’t think being away from you was going to affect me, especially when I thought it was the right thing to do. I should’ve taken it all back the moment I saw your face when I brought the topic of divorce.” He’d spoken each word, sentence, slowly as he can. Choosing the right ones so as not to fan the flames of hatred.

You silently cried, still. But you wanted to give your word as well. “You should have talked to me about what you were feeling.” You fisted his shirt in your hold, tightly, before speaking once more, “what was the purpose of our vows? Our bond? Everything—if you’re just going to decide for yourself?” You felt exhausted from crying, slumping in his embrace.

You just…wanted nothing, at this point. There was no use in being so mad at him to the point of holding a grudge, especially when he’d been transparent with you now about his thoughts.

“I know…I was wrong. I wish I could just, go back in time and slap some sense into past me…” Chan heaves out another heavy sigh. His breathing finally going a bit more stable than before. The uncomfortable position of being huddled together in a seated position was catching up to him, so he laid down on the couch, dragging you along.

“That’s a great way to put it. But, at least we’ve learned our lesson. I may have had a part in all of this, if you say that you were reluctant to open up to me about it…so I’m sorry too, if I’ve done something to make you feel like I’m not worthy of knowing what’s on your mind…” You sincerely voiced out. You just know that you may have played a part in this divorce.

Chan hushed you, bringing your closer to him, as if your weight on top of him wasn’t enough to close the distance. He stroked your back comfortingly as he spoke, “no, no. It wasn’t any of your fault. It was me overthinking, and compulsively making a decision…” He admitted, staring back into the ceiling.

There was silence that loomed over the two of you. Both of you finally ceasing the tears and just being in each other’s presence. Chan taking one of your hands in his, intertwining them together as his other hand rubbed comforting patterns on your back.

“Let’s start over.” You broke the silence. It was enough for Chan to halt all his movements, as he shifted underneath you to just look at you properly.

“Start over?” He asks almost dumbly. It made you chuckle, finding it endearing as you often see him give you this look of curiosity and confusion when he gets lost in the conversation.

You nodded, but spoke so as well to assure him. “Yeah.” You rested your cheek on the back of his hand that was in your intertwined hold. “We can work through ‘us’ properly this time. We’ll talk about anything and everything. We’ll make it all work.” You gazed into his eyes lovingly.

Chan was elated to hear it. But then his insecurity resurfaced again. “But…what if I messed up agai—”

“No.” You cut him off. Not wanting his insecurities do all the talking for him. “You won’t. Because like I said, we’ll go through it together. We’ll make it work, because we’ll help each other out. We’ll be there for the other. And I’m here for you now, telling you that I’ll stay with you.”

Chan stays quiet again, almost as if he’s going to cry again. But you spoke once more, “ we’ll work out your insecurities, but for now, don’t worry about anything. Okay?” You asked, staring gently straight into his eyes.

Chan nodded. He understands it well. He understands, that his soul is shaken with how steadfast your were. But most of all, he was relieved, and happy. He felt the heavy weight in his heart, finally lift off. His heart growing lighter as he felt you press a kiss on his forehead.

There was peace and lightheartedness as you two got caught up in your conversations. Chan, despite having visits to see Jeongin would still bombard you with question about him. He wants to know even the most mundane of things about his wonderful son.

You talked for hours until you can’t, and the sun has risen up. And despite having been drunk, you just both know you’ll get a clear memory of what had all happened, because you two were sober enough, and your hearts wouldn’t let you forget that something as beautiful as this has happened.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan x reader #skz chan fluff #skz chan angst #skz x reader #skz chan x reader

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ticklish-n-stuff · 3 years ago

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The cure for hand cramps

THIS IS A TICKLE FIC!

Ok but like it should be a well known FACT that Rui has ticklish palms (ok thats a joke plz dont take it seriously) ...and i wanna exploit that lmaoooo

Yknow, Rui is a hardworker, so i hc him to have gross and sweaty palms like mine XD

Look at this sleeping beauty~ Your welcome btw

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Rui x Tsukasa (romantic but interpret as you wish:))

Ler: Tsukasa

Lee: Rui

Warnings: Tickles! Hands??

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Rui had been working long hours on a new robot of his. Tsukasa kept pestering him to take a break, but Rui being the stubborn perfectionist he is didn't listen.

Tsukasa was currently on the living room couch, watching tv, while Rui kept working in his room. After what felt like an eternity to Tsukasa, Rui walked into the living room with a guilty smile on his face, rubbing his hand.

"So...I may or may not have overworked myself a teensy little bit".

"*Sigh* I tried telling you many times to take a break, you dummy. Come here" Tsukasa patted the couch for Rui to sit next to him. He sat next to Tsukasa and his concerned boyfriend quickly took his hand to inspect it.

"It's just a hand cramp, it's not THAT big of a deal...".

"Well it is to me! So shut up and let me help you...!".

Rui pouted like an angry little kid, Tsukasa couldn't help but smile a little at that...but no! He had to keep a tough act and not give in to his boyfriend's cuteness.

Tsukasa is definitely the mom of the group as he always gets concerned of everyones wellbeing. When he isn't boasting about his good deeds like a weirdo, he genuinly is a very good person.

Tsukasa started to softly rub along the cramped area along Rui's hand, making sure not to hurt him any further. What he wasn't expecting was the giggle that came out of Rui's mouth.

"What's so funny?" Tsukasa lifted an eyebrow towards Rui.

"N-nohothing! It just tickles a bit is all...!" Tsukasa could've died of cuteness right there, his boyfriend has ticklish hands?! And he never told him?!!! The nerve!

"You have ticklish hands?! How cute is that?!" Tsukasa started to softly stroke his fingertips along Rui's palm, sending him into a giggle fit.

"Wahahait! Tsukahasa! It reheally tickles!".

"Aww, does Rui have cute ticklish hands~? Tickle tickle~!" With that, Tsukasa started to gently scribble his nails along Rui's palm.

"EEEEYAHAHAHAHA! TSUKAHAHAHASA! STAHAHAHAP IHIT!" Rui was full on laughing at this point, his smile is so big and bright, his cheeks turning a deep red, and laughter that could cure anyone's depression, yup he's the definition of adorable.

"Hmmm...does it tickle when I do this??" Tsukasa brought Rui's hand up to his face and started to softly kiss all along his palm.

"EEEEEP! TS-TSUKAHASA! DOHOHON'T DO THAHAT!" Tsukasa's heart almost stopped at Rui's squeal, who knew he could produce such cute sounds?!

"Don't do what~?".

"T-TICKLE MEHEHEHE!" Rui was in such hysterics, he didn't realize the mistake he made until it was too late.

"If you say so sweetie~" Tsukasa inhaled as much air as he could and proceeded to blow many consecutive raspberries on Rui's hand.

"WAHAHAHA! TSUKAHAHAHASA! STAHAHAHAHA-!" Poor Rui's laughter went silent after just a few raspberries. Tsukasa decided to show some mercy and stopped his tickle attack, leaving Rui catching his breath, with some residual giggles coming out.

"Heheheh...was all that really necessary...?".

"Of course it was! Ticklish hands isn't something you see everyday~! Also, how is your hand feeling?".

"...Surprisingly better actually" Tsukasa smirked at that.

"Looks like my technique did work after all! I really am amazing aren't I~" Rui playfully smacked Tsukasa.

"Hehe your such a dork. Now come cuddle me, 'm feeling sleepy..." Tsukasa smiled at him fondly.

"Anything for you dearest~!" Rui giggled at Tsukasa's silly antics as they both cuddled on the couch and fell into a peaceful slumber.

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I feel like this is hella short, but i feel that way about my previous pj sekai fics so eh

Hope you enjoyed :D

#tickle #tickle fic #colorful stage #colorful stage tickle #fic #project sekai #project sekai tickle #colorful stage tickle fic #project sekai tickle fic #tsukasa tenma #rui kamishiro #ler!tsukasa #lee!rui

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ac3id · 4 years ago

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Hawk’s eye| 18+

pairings: hawks [keigo tamaki] x female! reader

summary: hawks is in his rut, desperate for some relief. his annoying secretary won’t stop irritating him so he decides to take his pent up frustrations on her. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

anonymous said:

hi!! so while the requests are still open, could you write some headcannons for Hawks x reader when he's in rut? maybe the reader is a bit clueless and doesn't even know he goes through stuff like that? dirty details are welcome 👀❤️

this was high-key inspired by @tainted-wine‘s this fic. (i hope u like my take on it !! 💓)

a/n: aaaa this took so much longer than i thought it would take 😭, also thanks @the-grimm-writer for proof reading this! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) also this is porn w plot so if u just was to skip to da porn. skip to this ‘◌’ bhai

ALSO THANKYOU FOR 900 FOLLOWERS LMAO WTF FOR REAL 😭

tagging: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa, @koiibito, @reinawritesbnha, @shorkbrian

warnings: noncon, hate fucking, one slap, she bites his dick at some point, scumbag hawks.

word count: 5862

navigation

The sound of your phone buzzing on the side table with a loud, irritating noise jolts you awake. You roll around on the bed, your fingers reaching to turn the vibrating device off. Groaning, you sit up straight. The warm mattress under you threatens to lull you back to sleep but you shove the thought away instead choosing to stretch your arms over your head and yawn endlessly. You were tired, so goddamn tired. Rubbing your temples lazily you start thinking about the dreadful day you have ahead of yourself. You think about your boss: Hawks, the man who makes you hate your life and job. He has trapped you into a never-ending nightmare which starts the second you open your eyes till the moment you fall asleep and even then he still manages to haunt you in your dreams.

Cleaning up after his messes, obeying his ever so pliantly. He has turned you into his little pet slave. He says that it’s your job as you are his assistant, his little helper there to make his job a little less hectic. You must listen to his needs and wants and to some degree, you do agree with him: it is your job, it’s what you signed up for after all but you can also sense him misusing his title when he is with you. He never listens to your suggestions which results in him calling you late after work hours to help with his problems knowing damn well you had already warned him beforehand. And, oh his flirty, suggestive comments which borderline sexual harassment. Hawks is a difficult man to work with and you often find yourself wondering how much calmer your life would be if you never worked for him but you do not have that luxury of leaving the job. It pays ridiculously well and you have bills to pay, your family to support. No, you cannot afford to lose this job. So you sit through his torment and hope for the best.

Seconds later after you have gathered your will to live you start scrolling through your phone, skimming through the morning news lazily. Your eyebrows furrow and eyes turn into angry slits as you glance upon a displeasing, astonishing article.

‘No. 2 Hero Hawks spotted partying with strippers–’

Your heart stops for a moment.

What the fuck was this?

You hesitantly read through the article, your heartbeat increasing every second that your eyes focus on the led screen, reading the details of the damned article. Eyes widening as panic settles in your nerves, you realize the gravity of the situation you had found yourself under as Hawks’ manager. Hawks had been spotted partying with strippers in a nightclub with a bunch of celebrities. The crazy stalker who had managed to follow him succeeded in capturing exclusive pictures of Hawks dressed in an expensive suit, his hair styled to perfection dancing under the dim lights of the club with women in basically their underwear shamelessly grinding upon him. You honestly couldn’t have given a single fuck about what Hawks did in his free time but since he had managed to get a paparazzi to tail him and now that his career was at risk; it became your problem. Your first and foremost instinct was to call Hawks and ask him what the hell he was thinking. Not being careful enough, he had managed to taint his entire reputation. The people of Japan now probably viewed him as a reckless party animal rather than the No. 2 Hero!

Before you could call him, your phone’s screen lights up illuminating a contact you dread. ‘Hero Commission’ it’s written in bold letters, your face drops. Your fingers shake, filled with anxiety as you accept the call. Inhaling and exhaling, you try to calm your nerves. If it is a call from the Commission, you know it’s bad. Bad.

You pick up the phone and instantly regret it, “What were you doing?” an angry, masculine voice snarls through the screen. You open your mouth to answer but are not given a chance too. “How did you let him go to a strip club during patrol hours?” you bite your lip thinking of an acceptable excuse, “He had to go there for work! It’s a misunderstanding. He went down to the strip club undercover to meet up with a crook to get some intel– that’s what he told me. This is a misunderstanding, I–” your explanation was cut short as the person on the other end of the call deemed it enough. “Whatever it is, fix it and never let this happen again.” he sneers a warning before cutting the call. It wasn’t a complete lie, Hawks did tell you that he was investigating a case on his own and that he would be gaining information from shady people but you did not expect him to go to a strip club out of all places. The worst part: he never even told you in detail anything about this case neither did he notice the paparazzi tailing his back. You sigh in frustration, rubbing your forehead, you quickly ring up his number only for it be sent right to voicemail. You almost scream. Where the fuck was this bastard?

Managing Hawks was not a walk in the park. The hero commission had sent you down especially to be Hawks’ secretary. You had a reputation: you were known to be responsible, diligent, and punctual. You were one of their best, entrusted with the responsibility to manage Hawks and you did a good job but it was Hawks who just made the job so hard.

Creating problems he could never solve by himself; on lucky days you would get a call from him at three in the morning, him begging you to come to help him. You want to say no, deny him any help. Let him suffer by himself but you cannot do that. If he screws up and you are not there to fix it. You lose your job, you can’t afford that. You give your 100%, you do but it’s Hawks. He has a problem with you, well, he has a problem with everyone in the commission but projects it mainly at you. He does not respect you.

He chooses to ignore your decisions and suggestions, diminishing them with a cruel chuckle, “Look, I need you but just not now.” He would say with an apologetic smile, “just let me work at my own pace, I will call when I will need you. After all, I love seeing your cute face.” You would always have to force yourself from not slapping his smug face before he took off into the bright, blue sky.

The truth untold, it wasn’t his fault completely either. He was just so fast. It was hard for anyone to keep up with him and since he did his job right; bringing peace to the nation you could not deem him worthless. But it still was a bother at times like this when you were left completely in the dark while Hawks ruined his hard-earned reputation.

You got into the building earlier that morning to wait for Hawks in his office, you needed to talk to him. This was not his first mishap. Not long ago, another article about him shamelessly flirting with a fan had been published. It had said the fan was visibly uncomfortable with him but Hawks didn’t seem to care, he kept presting. You had managed to cover it up as the two being close friends who were publicly joking around, there was no real harm done. It was a lie though, you had to pay the fan a large check to keep her mouth shut. She accepted the money and the story was lost and forgotten but you had no idea how you were going to cover this hell up.

The clock struck nine as the day began, people rushing into the building all tensed but there was no sign of Hawks. You tried calling him on his number but the call directed to voicemail yet again. You were growing impatient, did something happen to him? Sure Hawks fucked things over sometimes but he never disappeared like this. It got you genuinely worried. Something horrible could have happened to him. After all, he was on a case.

You waited for another thirty minutes and there was yet no sign of him. His sidekicks came knocking on his office door only to be surprised to see you there instead of their boss. You told them to continue with their day and not worry about Hawks, he was just awfully late. Not a big deal, he will be here soon. Soon.

Another hour passed by, no sign of Hawks and about now your phone was blowing up with angry calls from his sponsors and business partners, screaming at the top of their lungs frowning upon the scandal. Heck, even Endeavor called you after he couldn’t reach Hawks himself. The call made you nervous as anxiety crept in yet again. Hawks wasn’t answering to Endeavour something bad must have happened. Getting tired of the wait, you make up your mind to drop by his penthouse and to go see him for yourself. His silence was driving you crazy and worried at the same time, you just hoped he would be there well and safe. You could not imagine the ruckus that would create if something were to happen to him.

You walked out of his office after waiting for an hour. Rushing down to the basement you got into your car and before driving away to his house. Just before leaving, you decided to test your luck by calling him. Hoping, praying he would answer this time and luckily he did .

“Hawks!” you cried, a wave of relief washing over you, “Where are you? What are you doing?” you began pestering him with questions, not letting him answer even once. Hawks, tired of waiting, interrupted your monologue of questions with a chuckle. “Aw, you’re worried about me, baby?” his tone was low and mischievous, the sentence slurring almost into a moan at the last word. You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists in irritation, you weren’t new to his teasing. Hawks thought it was appropriate for him to casually flirt with his secretary. Send unasked comments about your figure, perverted implications about what he would do to a ‘cute little thing like you’ which made you very uncomfortable being around him at times. But it wasn’t that what made him get on your last nerves. It was the fact that he could even think about joking at a time like this which made you furious.

You screamed into the phone, giving him a piece of your mind. Degrading him for not taking care of himself, complaining about how he had managed to put you in such a tight spot.

“Once again I am asking, where the fuck are you. Hawks?” you ended your speech with spite in your words. Hawks sighed, “I am in the office,” he says your name with an edge in his voice, instantly shutting you down, “Where the hell are you?” The smugness in his tone remains and you can tell he is smirking on the other side of the screen as if he’s won. You hang up abruptly before walking out of your car and into the building, hurriedly making your way towards Hawk’s office.

You slam the door open glaring upon hawks as he sits behind his table. Dirty boots resting pliantly on the shiny, polished wood. His wings out, stretched to their fullest, filling up the room standing on high alert. They have a deeper hue to them, they look darker– a darker red. How did that happen? You find yourself wondering. Is he on drugs? His face is tilted upwards, facing the ceiling. Eyes screwed shut. They open as he hears you enter and walk towards him, his wings falling back behind him calm and collected.

“You’re late,” he says with a smirk, you bang your fist on the table beside where his feet rest, making him flinch and bring them down instinctively. His eyes widened in shock, he was not expecting you to be this furious. Sure, he knew he knew he had gotten you mad but he was not expecting you to be this angry. Without any hesitation, you start scolding him again. He watches you ramble in ominous glee. A poker face masking his expression, he watches you trot about how much trouble he is in. His job is to protect meek and weak citizens who cannot fight for themselves, what he was doing in a strip in the name of business is something you cannot grasp your head around. You repeat your lecture which you had already tortured him over the phone while the entire time Hawks drums his fingers underneath the table, waiting for you to get over with your dumb speech. His eyes trail on your lips, watching it move. Plump, pillow-like features tinted dark red ramble on about how much of an irresponsible person he was. Complaining about how much trouble he puts you through daily. Honestly, he doesn’t quite catch what you were saying. His mind busy imaging you shutting the fuck and letting him get through the day– or better yet how pathetic you would look underneath him while he shoves his dick down your throat. The thought makes his cock throb. His eyes change from an unbothered, bored look to something sinister as they start trailing all over your body. His eyebrows slightly furrow as he catches up on the few degrading terms you throw at him.

You talked too much. Way too much, do you realize how much better you would look if you keep your pretty, little mouth shut? The entire time, it’s always: Hawks don’t do this, Hawks don’t do that. Don’t you ever get tired? He wonders whether your dumb little brain had any thoughts other than the ones which tell you to irritate him all the time. You should shut up, really stop talking. He might do something bad, he’s already stressed enough as it is being in his rut and having no way to relieve himself, he is going through a rough time here. The other night he escaped to a strip club in hopes of relieving some stress and it had worked but it had also brought along a mind splitting scandal.

The entire morning, Hawks was busy avoiding people. Whether it be his fans, reporters, or even someone he knew; he paid no mind to them trying to get to the office as soon as possible to deal with the mess he had created.

It wasn’t his fault entirely, he was in his rut and needed sexual relief which he was finding very hard to receive. With his work piling up and you breathing down his neck, he couldn’t even take represents as they slowed him down. He couldn’t risk falling asleep on duty. A stupid, little headline about what he does in his free time was much more favorable than a failed mission in which he would let countless innocent lives slip by his fingers.

He watches you ramble, his eyes trailing over your body locking on your tits. He stares at them intensely, watching them bounce slowly every time you huff out of irritation and frustration. Your work shirt works him favors, the white almost translucent material shows off the slightest shadow of your black, lacy bra. It’s enough to get him going- imaging how your soft mounds would feel in his hands. How you would whimper under his touch as he tugs and pulls on your perky nipples, you probably wouldn’t sound as monstrous as you do right now. Your moans would be girlish, small whimpers would leave your lips as you would try your best to cover them up. You would try to hide your face under his assault but he wouldn’t let you, pinning you down instead and forcing himself on you while you cried for him to stop. Beg for his mercy.

He can feel his jeans tighten.

“So please, Hawks. Just be a little more responsible.” you finish, your voice turning into a plea. He hums and apologizes for his impulsive thinking, like always, he is not sorry. “Let's fix this mess, what do you say?” he asks with an apologetic grin, trying to be polite. You on the other hand don’t even spare him a glance, walking right out the door instead. It leaves him very offended.

◌

“Ah! What a troublesome day it was,” Hawks chimes in walking into his office with you closely following behind, “It was all your fault.” you spit making hawks chuckle, “Whatever happens, happens for the good.” he says, a scoff leaves your lips, “What was good about that?” you ask annoyed. “I get to have you alone with me now~” Hawks winks at you making you roll your eyes dramatically. Both of you stand together in Hawks’ office after hours. The day is done, everyone in the agency building has taken their leave excluding the two of you. It had been a long day fixing up after Hawks. You were tired and all you wanted was a warm bath and some sleep.

“Do you want to know why it happened?” Hawks asks out of the blue, “What happened?” you question, “Why was I at the strip club?” you sigh, “I don’t give two shits about your personal life, Hawks.” replying sternly. A look of disappointment arises on his face, “It’s actually more than that, really, I u-uh have this condition- it gets very hard to work during these times-”

“What are you even talking about?” You interject confused and clueless. You turn to him, a glare evident on your face you stare at him sheepishly. What was he on about now?

“I am serious, I went into my rut, and that's why I went to the strip club-” “Into a what?” Hawks’ eyes widened, were you really that clueless? “A rut, [y/n],” he says like it is a matter of fact, something everybody is aware of. “A rut. You know like how some animals go into heat and they-” your face scrunches as he explains his rut to you, you visibly grow more and more repulsed. Hawks studies you face, his heart genuinely breaking at your expressions. “Why are you telling me this?” you screech, “jeez Hawks, I did not need to know any of that!” you continue.

Hawks is hurt, he accepted a reaction which showed more concern. Maybe he went a bit too far imagining that you would offer him help but seeing you so disgusted by him shattered his heart and made him lose all his respect for you. You were a terrible human being, no different from those villains he put behind the bars every day. “I am telling you all of this because- this actually happens! Many- fuck- millions of people like me actually suffer from this shit! You should be a little more emphatic.” he reasons. He accepts you to understand at least now but you gloriously manage to disappoint him yet again. A rude snarl leaves your lips followed by a scoff, “What are you really trying to tell me Hawks? That you don’t want to do your job and to justify your laziness; you are making lame excuses now?” you shove a finger to his chest, it pushes him off the edge.

Something in his snaps, he looks down where your fingertip touches his chest. You are smaller than him, he’s at least a foot bigger than you. Where does your bratty, puny self get all this confidence from? His eyes darken as something sinister floats within him. He stares down at your finger, wanting to rip it off. He wants to see you cry. He wants to see you in pain and misery, suffering a great deal while nobody comes to help you.

“Hawks, you know what? I am so done with your bullshit. I am leaving.” You turn away from him, heading to the door but before you could move a step. Hawks grabs you by writs, caging your delicate hand into a bone-crushing death grip, “What the fuck?” you question, “Hawks?” you continue. You wait for his response, turning to him. He is facing the floor, his hair scanning over his eyes making it impossible for you to read his expression, not that you could read what was going on with him normally but now; it’s even harder. “Are you going to let go?” you ask again only to be met by him squeezing your wrists even tighter. You bring your other hand over him to pry yourself free from his clutches but he doesn’t want to let go.

“Hawks wha-” you don’t get to complete your statement as Hawks pushes you down on the floor making you fall on your butt. You let out a loud hiss. You frown, yelling out “What is wrong with you!?” You try to stand back up but his hands settle on your shoulder pushing you back down. You try fighting but it’s to no use. Did you forget he is the no. 2 Pro- Hero? He is much stronger than you, he brings down villains twice his size daily. What makes you think your weak kicks and punches will be enough to beat him?

You keep struggling under him, screaming how you were going to report him and ruin his career, how he is going to be sorry for messing with you.

“Shut. Up.” he finally speaks, he brings his gloved hand to your perfectly styled hair. Pulling tightly on your roots he stretches your face upwards, making it easier for him to look down on you while you cry in agony, “Stop crying.'' His voice is deep and raspy, much different from how he usually talks. You look up at him, fear swimming in your eyes as tears prick at the corners of your sockets, lips trembling. If you already weren’t terrified enough, your horror becomes tenth fold when you see his boner raging in his pants, “Come, on. Hawks..” your voice is small and weak, it's a broken cry. You know what he is going to make you do. He was going to violate you, break you beyond repair.

This was so wrong. As much you hated Hawks, you never would have thought he would do something like this. Hawks was a hero. He is meant to fight for justice, punish evil. Why is he doing this? “Hawks no. Please. Was it something I said? I take it back I didn’t mean it-”

“You know, y/n, you are not so different from those villains yourself,” if looks could kill, you would be dead. The pure, anger, and hatred he looks at you with bothers you. It makes you hate yourself, there is something sinister in his eyes which makes you sure about the fact that he is not afraid of hurting you. He has given up on you, after all, his polite gestures, generosity you always ignored- he’s fed up with your sheer ignorance and your ego. He hates you. He does and heck if he wasn’t in his rut; he would never bring his dick anywhere near you. He does not respect you as a human and in no way does he have any romantical attachment to you. All he ever saw was a walking alarm clock, bugging him every second, and now all he is going to see you as is his cocksleeve whom he can stuff his fat cock into whenever and however he seems fine. To him you are just a walking hole he can ruin whenever he wants to, you have managed to get on his bad side and he is going to show you his bad side.

He undoes his belt, his pants falling to his thighs displaying his expensive boxers and his growing hardness. His cock is throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His free hand pulls his boxers down and his cock springs free, hitting his abdomen. It stands long and hard, the tip blushed red and angry, tiniest bit of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit. He pumps his cock in his hand before forcing it against your mouth, pressing it to your lips smearing his pre all over your lips. You whimper in protest, moving your head the littlest you can under his tight grip. “Bitch open up. You had this coming for a long time,” his dick slaps your cheek while his fingers try to pry open your mouth. Pushing his gloved digits forcefully into your mouth, the rough fabric feels disgusting on your tongue. His fingers capture the lower part of your jaw, tearing your mouth apart with deranged strength. A loud cry escapes from you as he stuffs your empty mouth full of his cock, “Yeah, that’s more like it. Fuck.” he bottoms out into your throat, his shaft hitting the back of your throat making you gag, “get on with it. A slut like you would have the experience, right?” he taunts you. You do as he says, puckering your lips firmly around his length, your hands resting on his exposed thighs while you stroke him with your tongue. You feel his chiseled thigh muscles flex under your fingers as he melts in pleasure, tiny moans leaving his lips shamelessly.

As Hawks drowns in overwhelming pleasure, a criminal idea crosses your mind. Your eyes trail up to his face. His eyes are screwed close, he bites his lower lip softly. Carefully and slowly, you graze your teeth over his cock. Clamping down on it lightly, you hold your position. Your heart beats faster when Hawks stiffens and in a quick flash, he pushes you off his cock throwing you into the ground before backing up, squealing in pain.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH!” he screams, you sprint to the door. Trembling fingers try to unlock the doorknob while Hawks cries in agony behind you. You can feel him loom behind you, ready to come for your neck. A part of you tells you that you will not make it but the adrenaline rushing in your veins calls to be hopeful. Just open the door and just run.

Your cold, quivering fingers almost unlock the heavy wooden door but before you can push it open. Hawks appears right behind you, pushing his body onto your back. You feel his cock poking at your ass, his hand grabs your head pulling you, prying you off the door. You scream and cry trying to break free, grabbing his hand clawing on it to let you free. Hawks chooses to show no mercy as he drags you by your hair to his desk, your scalp hurts from his grip. You can feel tiny strands breakaway. He turns you around and slams your back to his wooden desk, you whimper at the contact. He stands in front of you, pressing his knee between your thighs. His hand reaches out to pull at your collar, forcing you to look at him.

He is livid, eyebrows furrowed with a death glare his jaw clenched, and his eyes darker than you have ever seen before. He looks at you with murderous intent, you think he might as well kill you with his wings flared open. The feathers turning into knives, you beg for your life.

Hawks observes your face. Broken, scared for your life your eyes are glassy, ridden in fear your makeup smeared all over your face. He thinks it's beautiful, he has finally got you begging for mercy, finally thinking of him as the man he is. He appreciates your submission but it does not erase the fact that you just bite oh his dick. You beg for mercy, your voice is small and broken. It comes barely above a whisper, “I am so sorry hawks, please don’t do this.” He doesn’t listen, staring at you head-on with his jaw clenched. He brings his free hand to the air, keeping it steady for a second before bringing it down with a horrendous force. You feel it before it happens; white, hot flashing pain erupts through your cheek stinging you hard. You cry out in agony as your face drops to the other side. The strike was powerful, it left you sore, you can still feel it sting your face. It leaves you swollen, you try to bring your hand up to your face lightly to carcasses you paining cheek but Hawks pushes your face on the wooden desk before you could, trapping your arms behind your back holding it with one hand. “You don’t realize your position, do you? You know what? I was going- planning to be gentle with you. I thought I would at least make you cum but now,” he pulls a feather out his wings preceding to tear open your pencil skirt with the sharp end. The ripped fabric falls to the ground leaving you in your panties and the pantyhose you always wear under your skirts, “There we go. I hope you are a pain slut, otherwise you would really not enjoy this.” he says with a small chuckle before ripping you out of your bottoms, leaving you in your panties completely vulnerable to him. He abandons his gloves, rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt roughly trying to gather slickness from your dry hole. Pleasure shoots down your body as his digits find your clit, rubbing tight circles on the little pearl, “Does this feel good? You are getting wet.” a smirk scars his face, “Who gets off to being raped?” he says sharply. Your face scrunches up in disgust and embarrassment. A heavy lump forms in your throat and the waterworks that you had been holding off burst open. Big, fat tears roll down your cheeks as you cry for mercy. You didn't know why this was happening to you, for your entire life you had been a nice person: always helpful, sensitive, and kind. At least, that was what you thought yourself to be. Never in a million years could you- or anyone, in fact, could have ever thought that you would be crying pathetically while your boss: a person known to all as a Hero, the truest, most honest person to exist ever would be the one defiling you, tearing you down to nothing just for his pleasure.

“Shut up, you like this.” He snarls at you, so sick of your loud wails he even shoves two fingers inside your mouth plunging them to the back of her throat, “Don’t you dare bite now, slut.” he warns. His fingers stop prodding at your clit when he notices the wet spot forming on your panties, he wastes no time shimming them down to your ankles, whistling when he sees your glistening pussy. You only wail louder pleading him not proceed any further. Hawks turns a blind eye to all your begging, “I should just shove it in, right?” he asks petting his finger over your hole, “but that won’t be fun,” he snickers. You feel his move away from your cunt and move higher. Panic settles, he couldn't be serious, “Hawks. Please no. Please don’t. I don-” finger rims along your asshole, inching to dip in, “What? Don’t want me to fuck your ass?” he spanks your ass hard making you flinch, “Please I’ve never-” you cry out hoping he would understand, “No one’s ever fucked you in the ass before?” you whine at the lewd words which shamelessly fall from his lips, “Guess there’s a first for everything.” he says with a scoff.

His digits bury into your hole, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. The stretch burns, filling a fresh set of tears rolling down your eyes, smudging your mascara and eyeliner You looked like a whore. He keeps hammering his fingers inside you without mercy, a loud whine leaves your lips as you feel a tingle of pleasure from him hitting the right spot. “Do you like that? Too bad, this isn’t for you.” he moves his fingers from you before lining his fat cock to your almost too tiny hole, “How will this fit?” he laughs to himself, pressing his engorged tip in slowly, “Will be a tight fit,” he continues to shove his cock into your hole, his face turns off one to ecstasy as your walls take him inch by inch. You scream in pain, his cock was much bigger than his fingers. It was stretching you out, numbing your mind and soul, you did not know how much more you could take. Salty tears fell from your eyes as Hawks bottomed himself in you, he waited for a moment before starting to thrust into you unforgivingly. Dragging his fat cock out and your walls pulling him right back in. As he kept ramming into you. Slowly, you start to pleasure tingle up your spine as his tip smashed against the right spots. Your cries of pain turn to pleasurable moans. Hawks wastes no time in teasing you, “Look at you moaning like a slut,” he spanks your ass with swift force sending your rear to sting. You feel unbearable pleasure starting to build up in your abdomen, a straining coil wanting to burst which each of Hawks’ strong thrusts yet it is left unfilled as the simulation is not enough to make you cum from all alone. Hawks notices this, the pitiful crying for him to touch your swollen little clit which was begging to be played with. He almost thought he would give it to you, after all, he was a good person. Almost.

Hawks just snicker, his cruel, sadistic laugh echoing in the room, “No, no, no.” he teases, “no matter how much you cry, baby. I am not letting you cum. This is your punishment, you deserve this. You’ve been a bad girl.” Hawks couldn’t formulate how he was able to form complete sentences. The moment he had caught you, he had let himself go feral. Dragging you down like a predator, he finally had you under him. He kept grunting and breathing profanity down your ear along with shameful praises about how well your slutty ass takes him. He is glad he is finally getting his much-deserved relief but he is not done yet. He won’t be done until he is filling your vulnerable womb with his seed, he won’t be done until he hears you asking him to give you his children. He is not going to leave you be until he has destroyed you, balls deep in your tiny pussy. He is going to keep you here all night fucking you, he is going to stay there all night fucking you with hate which he has buried within himself for you over the years. He is going to melt you in his hand, break you until only he can build you up, and maybe he will not let you go even after that. Maybe he will keep you after all hawks mate for life.

Just hope he lets you cum the next time.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years ago

Text

A Grave Life Part Sixty Eight

Previous Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone has a good week 💖

...Oof, guys. Final chapter. This has been... A Journey. I mean this fic is over 100K words now. I’m.. I have been writing this fic for two years? Like this is honestly one of the stories that got me into writing fic consistently again. So...Thank you for reading, thank you for sticking with me on this truly wild ride, like it has been...Insane. Thank you thank you thank you.

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, mention of injury, cursing, mention of PTSD, angst, fluff Summary: “We’ll just need you to sign these forms, Mrs. Graves,” I heard, and was startled when a clipboard was passed to me and not Eugenia. It was the first time that I’d heard myself referred to as such by anyone that wasn’t Percival.

I finally understood why Percival was always at such a low ebb when I was in the Medical wing. I couldn't be drawn out of that room for a blessed thing— food, sleep, nothing. I kept wary watch, untrusting of everyone that trickled in to check on Percival. I technically had no reason to be— I’d placed the same enchantment on the door as had been on our apartment door, so anyone entering under any disguise would be revealed to be false in a matter of seconds.

I wasn’t alone in my lingering. Piquery dropped in frequently, between Congressional hearings to find out how he was doing; Eugenia also spent days there with us, fussing with the staff and pestering them to find out how soon Percival could be moved into a more comfortable environment.

“We’ll just need you to sign these forms, Mrs. Graves,” I heard, and was startled when a clipboard was passed to me and not Eugenia. It was the first time that I’d heard myself referred to as such by anyone that wasn’t Percival. I felt Eugenia’s eyes narrow at me as I took the clipboard, eyeing the forms before signing them and passing them back. The nurse hurried out of the room, seeming as wary of the frosty atmosphere as I was. I leaned back in the rickety old chair I had taken up residence in, turning my attention back to Percival.

He was healing well, at least. The swelling on his handsome face had gone down; he’d been awake for a little while the day before, and we’d spoken for just a few minutes before he’d drifted off to sleep again.

“When precisely did that happen?” Eugenia asked after a moment. I sighed softly, scrubbing my hand across my brow.

“Just before he left for the assignment.”

“...Elkton?” “Yes.” Eugenia was quiet for a moment longer, and I lifted my eyes uncertainly to her. She was gazing at me with an indecipherable expression. I pressed my lips into a thin line, turning to look back down at Percival, marking the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“And that… That man didn’t know?”

I shook my head, “There seem to have been details that Percival omitted when he was speaking with Grindelwald, like our marriage… Or the fact that he calls me dearheart and not dear. Things that he knew would raise alarm bells for me.”

Eugenia hummed thoughtfully; I could see her nodding in my periphery.

“Breadcrumbs,” She mumbled.

“Quite.”

We fell into silence after that. -- “Perhaps he’d be best at your apartment.”

I was surprised that Eugenia was entertaining the idea at all. I shook my head a little bit.

“He needs familiarity right now— and I’ve no doubt that he’ll know Grindelwald has been to the apartment. I think he’ll be better at your home.”

Eugenia bristled at the name, but she tipped her chin up a moment later.

“If that is to be the case, then I must insist on your staying as well.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Graves—”

“He will need you close by, and I still have my own obligations to uphold.”

I hesitated before nodding a little bit, “I can get some clothes together— I think Percival and I ought to stay in separate rooms for the time being.”

Eugenia’s head tipped to the side a little bit, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“You’ve already spent so much time apart.”

“He’s been hurt, Eugenia, he’s still healing. I don’t want him to feel like I’m crowding him. I’ll be nearby if he needs me there, but I don’t—” I stopped myself, taking in a shaking breath as my worry welled over. I couldn’t quite say what else I feared: that Percival would ultimately push me away, that what had happened was just too much for him. I would understand it if that was the choice that he made; so much had happened, and while I would be there for whatever Percival needed, I couldn’t fool myself into thinking that everything would simply fall into being the way that it was.

-- Eugenia put me up in the room beside Percival’s.

It was a nice room— there was a large four-poster bed and a large window that overlooked the street. It was different from the room that I had been put up in the last time I had been wounded and sent to convalesce in Eugenia’s home.

The first few nights were quiet enough— Percival was still worn out; he was sleeping more often than not. When he was awake during the day, he was either trying to read the paper (focusing for too long still made his head hurt; he’d been quite heavily concussed) or asking me about cases that he’d missed.

The two of us spoke about what had happened to ourselves very little; I didn’t feel right asking Percival to ask what had happened, and Percival didn’t ask what had happened with me so much. It was clearly something that neither of us were ready to broach.

The fourth night, I woke up with a start. I felt cagey, like I was being watched. I glanced around, spotting a figure looming in my doorway.

“Perce?” I asked softly.

“...I can’t sleep,” He said after a moment; his voice was thick and hoarse with disuse. I pushed myself to sit up before I reached out, patting the bed beside myself to urge him deeper inside. He walked in slowly, looking toward the window a little bit before he climbed into bed. I saw him wince just a little bit before he settled down beside me.

I rolled onto my side to look at him. He stared up at the ceiling in silence; I could see his eyelids fluttering in the darkness.

“...What did you do today?” He asked after a few moments.

“Talked to Matilda.”

“How is she?”

“Better. Tired of desk duty.”

“...She’s as impatient as you used to be.”

I smiled a little bit.

“Thomas doesn’t want her going back to work so soon, though,” I added.

“I understand.”

I was quiet as Percival shifted to face me. I held very still as he reached out, resting his hand on my cheek.

“...What’ll you do tomorrow?” He asked. I shrugged a little before I turned my head, brushing my lips along his palm. I didn't want to move things too quickly and scare him off, but I'd missed the easy affection that he and I used to have.

“I don’t know,” I murmured, “Your mother said that Ermentine will be stopping by for a little bit.”

Percival hummed, skating his thumb along my cheekbone. I felt my eyelids flutter, my stomach flipping at the tender contact.

“She’s been asking to stop by to see you,” I added.

“She’s plenty welcome to,” Percival murmured, “So long as she doesn’t bring another damn duckhead.” -- Apparently I laughed so loudly that I woke up Eugenia.

It started with sleeping in the same bed together. It was always Percival in my bed; I was too scared to go into his bedroom, I didn’t want to push. But waking up at Percival’s side was more than enough of a start.

He started to receive visitors in Eugenia’s parlor: Tina, Queenie, Picquery, Ermentine. Piquery rarely brought work (though Percival did pry for details); he spent his waking hours in the parlor, too. He began to read for longer hours at a stretch. We began to go for daily walks when weather would allow. We walked closely to one another, but we weren’t quite up to cuddling with one another as we had before he’d left. -- “Where did he send you?” Percival asked.

It was late; I was nearly asleep; Percival was curled up beside me under the covers.

“...A No-Maj boarding house,” I mumbled, “He hid my wand under one of the floorboards. Practically ripped the place apart when I accio’d for it.”

“How long?”

“Weeks.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“...If he did, I can’t remember,” I admitted, opening my eyes a little to look at him. He was watching me closely. Percival was quiet for a few moments, eyes wandering my face.

“We should begin looking for a new home,” He said after a few moments.

My brows furrowed.

“What about the apartment?”

“...I don’t want to go back there,” He shook his head, lowering his eyes and taking hold of my hand, “And I want somewhere that we can build our lives together the way we planned.”

I intertwined our fingers, my love for him welling over. I nodded, dipping my head and pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles.

“I think your mother’s beginning to get sick of us, anyway,” I teased, smiling.

Percival’s lips quirked with a small smile.

“Perhaps a little,” He agreed. -- We knew that Eugenia wouldn’t stand for our being too far away— and given all that had happened, we didn’t want to be terribly far from her, either.

Percival and I found a home in the same neighborhood as Eugenia’s. It was one that I insisted was far too large for the two of us. Percival wrapped his arm around my shoulders and nodded, looking around what we had been told was a good third guest bedroom.

“It may not always be the two of us,” He said, “And in time, we may need more room. Would you rather we have to look for that now or...When it’s more difficult for you to move things around?” He arched an almost teasing brow at me, and I had to fight down a smile.

“If we move in here, your mother is going to think that we’ll have an army of children,” I argued; I couldn’t stand to beat around the bush on this any longer. Percival smiled, brushing his lips against my forehead.

“Perhaps not an army.” -- Our days weren’t always easy. We did still fight, sometimes— Percival wanted to return to work at Congress; I wasn’t ready for him to get anywhere near his old files. Percival wanted to go back to the apartment and pack things up; I was insistent that we could hire people to pack things up for us. I hadn’t been back there in some time, and I had no intention of going back.

There were nights when the both of us were wracked with nightmares; we had woken one another up with our whimpers, our tossing and turning. Those nights were the longest, and the most quiet between us— we would wake up and just hold the other until the shaking would subside. More often than not, neither of us would be able to fall back asleep. -- “It’s a mansion,” Matilda said flatly.

“I warned you that it was too big,” I said, shutting the door behind her. I waited until she had hung her coat up before I hugged her tightly. Matilda wasn’t the hugging type, but she granted me this, patting my shoulder twice before letting me lead her into our sitting room.

“Percival’s idea?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

“...It’s his first day back,” I answered stiffly, pouring a cup of tea for Matilda.

“I see.”

I could feel Matilda eyeing me, and I glanced over at her, arching a brow.

“Thomas didn’t handle my first day back well, either,” She offered as she took the saucer. I sighed, sitting across from her and toying with the pendant around my neck (Eugenia had given it back the day Percival and I had moved out, with a small smile and a warning that she never wanted it handed back to her again).

“I’m handling it fine,” I grumbled, sliding the pendant back and forth on the chain. Matilda eyed the chain before her eyes lifted to mine, unconvinced.

“How’s it been for you, then?” I asked. Matilda shrugged, looking down into the cup.

“It’s been…Familiar. I thought that being back in the office would be more difficult, but— Well, perhaps the month of desk duty wasn’t such a bad thing. It let people ease into the idea of my being around them after what’s happened. I think Graves may have the same experience.”

“Well, the two of you can discuss that when you come over on Saturday. And Thomas and I will discuss how ridiculous the two of you are.”

Matilda arched a sharp brow, lips twitching as a smile threatened to break through. -- “...Are you going to ask?”

“Hm?” I tore my eyes away from where his wedding ring sat on his finger. It was odd— we’d been married for months, but it was still a new sight. Percival offered me an amused little smile.

“We don’t have to tip-toe around it,” He added, sitting down beside me on the bed.

“...Alright,” I huffed out a breath before taking hold of his hand in mind, intertwining our fingers, “How was work, then?”

Percival ran his thumb along my wedding band, looking down at our hands, and I wondered if the sight of mine was as foreign to him.

“It was… Interesting. The department seems to be walking on eggshells.”

“There’s going to be an adjustment period, Perce,” I reassured softly, turning my head and looking up at him.

“...The President wants to know if you would be open to testifying in front of Congress in regards to Grindelwald’s case.”

I was quiet for a moment, fighting the urge to snap that she could ask me herself.

“I’ll consider it,” I said after a moment. I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to relive everything— I didn’t want to remember any more of it than I had to.

“Take your time,” Percival nodded. I glanced up at him, smiling a little when I saw him watching him.

“What is it?”

“I missed you today,” He admitted, “Is that odd?”

“No,” I chuckled, shaking my head, “I missed you, too.”

He smiled and leaned in, brushing his lips gently across mine. I sighed softly, raising my free hand to his face and cupping his cheek. I had reveled in each of Percival’s kisses since I’d gotten him back.

“We should get going,” I warned as I reluctantly leaned away from his kiss, “We’ll be late for dinner at your mother’s.”

“She’ll understand.”

“She’ll be displeased— and she’s liable to turn up to make sure everything’s alright.”

Percival grunted as I stood. He held onto my hand, and I frowned, watching him.

“What is it?” I asked softly.

“...Thank you,” He said.

“For what?”

“Being so damn stubborn.”

I grinned, unable to help it.

“Do you ever wish I wasn’t?” I asked. Percival shook his head a little bit.

“I used to,” He admitted, tugging me a little closer by my hand, “But I would not want you any other way, dearheart.”

Tag list: @myplaceofheavenorhell ; @britishfajita ; @terrainhead ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ; @rvgrsbrns ; @maaaaryx ; @remmyswritings ; @flostvs1508 ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @paintballkid711 ; @knightsimp; @hypnobananaangelfish ; @tardis-23 ; @lunadegitana ; @recklessworry

#A Grave Life #percival graves x reader #percival graves imagine #Percival graves/You #Percival Graves/Reader #Percival Graves x You #WOW that's it guys

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guesst · 3 years ago

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some of the best fantasy au fics for bnha that i've read

i decided to make a fic rec list of one of my favourite aus/fusions. mostly midoriya-centric, there are some crossovers (with hp), and a lot of different ways in which the authors have taken them - so it could be Quirks, ghosts, outright fantasy aus, spirits, witches etc etc. there isn't a specific order and there aren't a tonne (these are the ones i could find buried in my bookmarks lol), but the ones on the list are all really well written i love them.

i've tried adding relevant information, the summary (shortened if it's pretty long) and just. adding some random tags that may be important. not all of them though. obviously this is not a complete list and there will most definitely be more fics out there, if there are some really good fics that you know that aren't on this list, feel free to tell me, i'd love to read them!!!

i hope someone enjoys these!

Faith Becomes You by SugaSuga

oneshot | gen dfo, quirkless midoriya summary 'There's a tiny shrine in Musutafu that's overgrown with kudzu vines between Izuku's apartment and his middle-school. There may very well still be a god inside it. There may be nothing but the myth of a man from when Quirks were first emerging. Izuku hides in its walls for a while and ends up tending to the forgotten shrine. All good deeds have their impact, don't they?'

Of Mythos and Men by Oceanbreeze7

oneshot | gen spirit animal au, kinda summary (shortened) 'When he was young, Midoriya always wondered what his mythos would be. The matching half to his quirk, the ancestry of its power. Mythos were strange things, not linked genetically like quirks seemed to be. [...] Midoriya hadn't met his mythos. Even in UA. (In his dreams, something called to him, 'Chase me!')'

what a lion cannot manage by LadyLiterature

multichapter | ongoing | f/m, m/m kitsune au, female izuku, future bakudeku summary (shortened) 'She wants to be a hero. Wants to save everyone she meets and even the people she hasn’t. [...] A smart fox avoids fights. A smart fox does not seek them out. A smart fox does not fight for everyone. A smart fox, when they absolutely must, only fights for themselves and what is theirs and nothing else. Izumi, for all that she tries to be, is not a good fox.'

My Magic Academia by Kiterou

series | oneshots and multichapter | ongoing | gen HP crossover, wizard midoriya, platonic bkdk, some ocs summary (shortened) ' [...] In which Midoriya Inko is a witch and Izuku a wizard and even after 150 years of quirks taking over the world, Izuku still couldn't tell Kacchan that he isn't worthless and that he still could become a hero all on his own.'

A Lonely Windchime Makes No Sound by Musecookie

multichapter | ongoing | multi reader/shinso, total fantasy au, very wholesome summary (shortened) ' [...] You enjoy visiting your slightly creepy local library. When you accidentally befriend the elusive owner's familiar, he begins to appear more and more when you visit. You don't really mind, and he doesn't seem to hate you, even when the two of you become tied up in each other's fate as you pursue the secret to reviving a magical species of flower. Soft Strangers to Friends to Lovers type beat with lots of fluff and naps! Sleepy cuddles included.'

The grapes of friendship by Gentrychild

oneshot | gen crack, dfo, vampire izuku summary 'Izuku, a dhampir hiding his real identity as he goes to UA, the best wizard school in the country, spends the day with his friends. None of them are aware of it.'

Yesterday Upon the Stair by PitViperofDoom

multichapter | complete | gen less supernatural, izu's quirk lets him see ghosts, he still has ofa summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it. But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless [...] Not that anyone would believe it if he told them.'

sum of all (and by them driven) by Elemental

series | multichapter | ongoing | gen dadzawa, spirits give quirks, izu sees these spirits series summary 'Quirks aren't what you think they are.' first part summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku is medically quirkless, not technically homeless, perpetually exhausted and doing his damned best despite it all. He also sees spirits, which might be cool if not for the fact that a) no one else does, b) they really don't like him very much, and c) he's pretty sure the heroes now think he's a villain working for the League [...]'

The Struggles of a Modern-Day Vampire by miraculousemily47

oneshot | gen crack, 1-a shenanigans, vampire midoriya summary 'After Midoriya Izuku is turned into a vampire towards the end of his first year at U.A., he decides he wants to tell his classmates about his condition. The only problem is that he can't physically say the words, and his classmates are fucking idiots.'

Lights in the Dark by FrostKitten

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen supernatural au, izuku can see demons etc, quirkless/magic au summary (of first part) 'Midoriya Izuku, like most young kids, knows there are monsters. They live in closets, under beds, and occasionally in the park. As he grows older, his friends stop seeing them...but he still does.'

Hand in Unlovable Hand by jumbletea

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen vampire midoriya (and aizawa), dadzawa, toga n dabi n mido being siblings summary 'A collection of stories surrounding a not-quite-human Izuku and everyone he meets along the way.'

Simply Superstitious by CryCaladrius

multichapter | ongoing | gen lots of folklore and yokai and stuff, 'quirkless' magic user izuku, decent dad hisashi too summary (shortened) 'Izuku Midoriya’s father is a Hou-ou — a Japanese phoenix. For some reason, this means yokai have a standing invitation to pester Izuku with their existence. Birds assemble choirs for his birthday. If there’s no cedar leaf under the welcome mat, the amazake babaa that lives two apartments over will be knocking on their door by evening. His yokai-purifying excursions get mistaken for vigilantism far too often. [...]'

Cuckoo Bird (anonymous author)

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen it may be discontinued but theres lots of fae folklore, deku is a changeling, deals etc, plus some platonic shindeku building up?? summary 'There's something off about Midoriya Izuku. (change·ling /ˈCHānjliNG/ noun a child believed to have been secretly substituted by fairies for the parents' real child in infancy.)'

tread softly as you go by IceEckos12

oneshot | gen if you read any fae au please let it be this! has faeries but mido is not one summary 'Humans used to be good at the old ways. They used to know how to bait the trap, to spin a web of words and lies that would ensnare even the most wily. Humans used to be able to twist deceptions around knots of iron and turn them into weapons of power. They forgot a long, long time ago. A boy unwittingly makes a deal with one of the fae, severing his ties to humanity. However, he finds that the fae world is far more strange and complex than he ever could have imagined.'

Hell is just a shoujo manga by supercrunch

multichapter | complete | f/m fantasy au, bakudeku, fem!izuku, isekai, dekusquad stuff, also some iidachako summary (shortened) 'Izuku wakes up crushed under a statue, trapped in the body of a princess who doesn't exist. Turns out she's a demon, which is weird. What's even weirder is the déjà vu that surrounds Kamino palace, reminding her of the events of this one manga she used to love. [...] But that's probably just a coincidence. [...] The problem here, obviously, is that Izuku's the demon princess. Ergo, she's a villain. And that means she's going to die at the end of this manga. Again.'

hold your breath as you cross by cassiopeia721

oneshot | gen dadzawa, another 'quirks are from spirits au' (expect more of those actually), mido is sad :( summary 'As the bridge between the world of guardian spirits and the quirk users who are blessed by them, Izuku's duty is to clean up the mess his predecessor left. It's taken what feels like an eternity worth of work, but Izuku's finally finished, and he's ready to rest at last. Unfortunately, the pro heroes who just watched him take down the Scourge of Kamino have no intention of letting him just wander off, and he finds himself stuck in an interrogation room with a bunch of humans who he's sure will never believe a word he says.'

To See with Eyes Unclouded by CrazySatan

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen witch au, witch midoriya, quirkless mido, bkg is not a good friend series summary 'Midoriya Izuku is a witch. A powerful witch. And even though he doesn't have a quirk, and magic doesn't Work Like That, Izuku ends up a hero. Somehow.'

Demons and Darkness by wolfsrainrules

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen dadzawa, shinso and mido and bkg are becoming friends, they can see monsters/spirits/bad things summary of first part 'Izuku has believed in the things that go bump in the night since he was small. That means he can see them, and almost everyone he knows....can't. So he decides he's going to be the shield humanity needs, no matter what. Eventually, he finds others that See too.'

know what i've made by the marks on my hands by simkjrs

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen dadzawa, quirk spirit au (this inspired most of the others on this list), also eri summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku just wants to lead a quiet, peaceful life. This is foiled by the fact that a) he can see spirits, b) his good nature demands that he help anyone he sees in trouble, and c) he, by all rights, should not exist. [...]'

Izuku haunts class 1-A by Artistic-Gamer

series or multichapter whichever floats your boat | incomplete (hiatus) | other there are some triggering themes! such as suicide, blood, body disfigurement! please take care of yourself and avoid reading if this will hurt you! in other news: so much dadzawa, so much friendship, hurt mido summary (of first part) 'Class 1-A is rumored to be haunted, only the residents are aware it’s more than just a rumor..'

U.A's Resident Ghost by BeyondTheClouds777

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen ghost midoriya, dadzawa, friendships!!!! summary 'There is a ghost at U.A. Not haunting U.A. Not even hanging out at U.A. There is a ghost. Enrolled. As a student of U.A. And it's just Shouta's luck that he has everything to do with it.'

and now, the weather by xylophones

oneshot | gen CRACK, paranormal/ghost hunters au, dekusquad stuff summary 'Izuku runs a fictional horror radio show. Because ghosts aren’t real. Right? (“Holy shit, ghosts are real,” Izuku whispers. Then, with the smugness of a sixteen-year-old who just won a decade long bet, “I knew it! Kacchan owes me five hundred yen!” “Midoriya,” Todoroki sighs, “this ghost is trying to kill us.”)'

U.A Unsolved by handcrusher(ameliafromafairytale)

oneshot | gen (it's a fic of a fic, so if you've read yesterday upon the stair then you'll understand better) izuku can see ghosts thats his quirk summary ' "Hey there, ghosts," Midoriya says, "it's me, ya boy." The dorms are haunted. Shenanigans ensue.'

The Haunting of Class 1-A by BritishRobutt

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | n/a ghost midoriya, vigilante au, crack, the ghost bit is izu's quirk summary 'Everyone always told Izuku he couldn't be a hero, so when he dies and discovers his quirk, he becomes a vigilante out of spite. Whoops. After becoming Spectre, Japan's most wanted vigilante, Izuku realizes he can just fulfill his dreams of going to the top heroic school- after all, who can physically stop him from attending UA when he's a literal ghost?'

Caged by SternStunde

oneshot | gen tododeku, fantasy au (todo is a dragon, mido is a princess), genderbent deku (fem deku) summary 'Then she held up one of the books and smiled. "Want to learn an ancient language with me?" She was kind of a nerd, and she really hoped the dragon was too.'

Magic Runs Deep by draconicschinx

multichapter | ongoing/probably discontinued | gen mido has a quirk and he can see mythical creatures. summary '"Midoriya Izuku has always been good at making friends. Not human ones, really, but they are good friends nonetheless. " Izuku can see and talk to and interact with mythical creatures. It's not exactly the quirk he was hoping for, but he's going to use it to help humans and his non-human friends all the same.'

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jaembby · 4 years ago

Text

Hidden

Chapter 1 of Hidden

Hwang Hyunjin x reader

desc: you couldn’t stand Hyunjin. the boy would flirt with anyone and everyone but for some reason, he’d especially bother you. Upon finding him broken, you discover parts of his life that he keeps hidden under his confident facade. what will happen when the new side to the cocky boy is revealed?

warnings: mentions of divorce, hyunjin being flirty, mentions of parents fighting, themes of loneliness/neglect, a few swear words (maybe like 2 or 3), pet names, crying.

wc + genre: slight angst, fluff if you squint. 2.9k.

a/n: will be at the end! enjoy chapter 1 of my new fic Hidden!

Hidden masterlist || next

-----

“Piss off, Hwang,” you roll your eyes. Hwang Hyunjin simply sends a wink in your direction when you make eye contact.

“Why? Don’t you like it, princess?” He replies, a smirk appearing on his plump lips. You hate to admit that you blushed slightly at the pet name.

“Y/n, Hyunjin, I know it’s the end of the day but please don’t disrupt the class,” your teacher scolds you.

You mutter a “sorry ms” before turning away from the blonde boy beside you.

Hwang Hyunjin is cocky, arrogant and shameless. He flirts with everyone and anyone, boys, girls, juniors and seniors. And people usually flirt right back, hoping that the innocent smiles might become something more.

You never flirt back, nor hope for anything more from him so why does he pester you so much? Usually, Hyunjin will wink at someone and pretend nothing happened, never sparing his victim a second glance. Apparently, for reasons unknown to you, you're different. The blonde boy just has to throw a wink, pet name or pick up line your way at every chance he gets.

You can’t see why Hyunjin can’t just be like his best friend Lee Minho. Minho is quiet, easy-going and nice to talk to. You could say you’re mutual friends with Minho as he’s pretty close with your two best friends Lee Felix and Han Jisung and the two of you sometimes find yourselves in a friendly conversation.

For the rest of the class, you keep your head down to avoid another encounter with Hyunjin. The lesson drags on until finally, the long-awaited bell rings through the room to signal the end of classes for the day.

You quickly get up from your seat only to collide with a firm chest, the impact causing you to lose balance and fall over.

“Falling for me already, princess?” Hyunjin’s voice rings out from above you. You can practically hear the smirk in it.

He offers his hand to help you up but you ignore it, pushing yourself up from the ground. You quickly walk out of the door and try to find Jisung and Felix.

“Y/n!” you hear a voice call from somewhere to your right. You snap your head towards the sound and see a brown mop of hair running through the crowd of students towards you with a freckled blonde boy following not far behind.

“Sungie, Lixie! I feel like I haven’t seen you two all day!” you smile as you hug both boys.

“Yeah, I wish we all had more classes together,” Felix mumbles as he and Jisung hug you back.

“Y/n, you know how you and Lix are coming over to my place tomorrow?” he squirrel-like boy says, reminding you of the playdate (as Jisung likes to call it) that you, himself and Felix had planned for the weekend.

“Yeah, what about it?” you ask.

“Well I hope you don’t mind but I’ve asked Minho if he wanted to come over too,” a pretty shade of red tints Jisung’s cheeks when he mentions the brunette boy.

“Ooh, Jisung~” you and Felix smirk, teasing the small boy about his little crush.

“Yeah, that’s fine though ‘Sung,” you answer his question.

“Okay cool... but I should warn you, Hyunjin’s going to be there too.”

Fuck.

Jisung doesn’t meet your eyes. He knows you aren’t too fond of Hyunjin but you’ll have Felix, Minho and himself there to distract you.

You’ll put up with the irritating blonde for a few hours if it makes your friend happy. Who are you to decide who goes to Jisung’s house, anyway?

“Okay, what time did you want us there?” you ask, steering the conversation away from Hyunjin.

“Around 12, now let’s get out of here before the school gates close,” Jisung says as he drags you and Felix away from the building you’d been in all day.

You and Felix parted ways with Jisung as you walked home. You and Felix only lived a few houses apart so you always walked home together whereas Jisung lives a few blocks away.

“Want me to pick you up tomorrow, y/n?” Felix turns his head towards you as he breaks the silence.

“Yeah, that’ll be good. Thanks, Lix,” you answer, meeting his gaze.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks. Your best friend knows you way too well.

“Nothing,” you lie but Felix can tell. He decides to drop it for now.

You’re so grateful for Lee Felix. Even though sometimes it may not seem like it, you’re thankful that he can tell when something’s wrong. You and Felix share a strong bond. You’re able to read each other like an open book. He’s able to cheer you up and make you forget about whatever’s worrying you just with his dimpled smile. You sometimes think you’re like a sunflower and Felix is your sun as you turn towards him, his presence cheering you up and making your days brighter.

Soon enough, you and Felix reach your house and you say a quick “goodbye” before walking inside.

You drop your school bag onto the couch before making your way into your bedroom. A tired sigh leaves your lips as your exhausted body is welcomed by the comfort of your bed. Tomorrow, you only have to put up with Hyunjin for a few hours. It’s okay. You have Felix, Jisung and Minho with you, too. Everything’s going to be fine.

beep beep beep Your phone alarm wakes you up 11:00 am.

You slowly make your way out of bed and hop into the shower, letting the warm water run over your body as you relax into it, calming your racing mind. You stay that way, letting the water run over you as you wake up and mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead.

Your thoughts decide to wander to Hyunjin. Jisung wants Minho to come over and Hyunjin’s just part of that. If Minho comes, Hyunjin comes and if it makes your friend happy, you’ll deal with it.

As you’re turning the water off, you look at the phone that’s sitting on the bathroom counter beside you.

Shit, it’s already 11:30. You only have 30 minutes to eat breakfast and get ready to go to your friend’s house. Calm down, y/n. 30 minutes is plenty of time.

Turns out, it really isn’t.

By the time you’ve decided on what to wear (because you couldn’t make up your mind), got dressed and eaten breakfast, there are only 10 minutes until Felix is due to pick you up.

You head to the bathroom to clean your teeth and brush through your hair. That takes about two minutes. You’ve now got 8 minutes to do your makeup and get everything that you’re taking (which isn’t much, just some money, your phone, charger and hairbrush) and put it into a purse.

There’s not much time to do makeup so you decide to just conceal a few blemishes, touch up your eyebrows, apply a small amount of mascara and add a touch of lip balm to your dry lips. You figure you don’t need a full face of makeup anyway. You aren’t there to impress anyone, after all. It’s just a hang out with friends.

Felix arrives right on time and the two of you head off to Jisung’s house.

When the pair of you arrive, you find Minho and Hyunjin already inside. Minho and Jisung are sitting beside each other talking (and blushing from both sides, you notice) while Hyunjin sits on the couch opposite them as he scrolls through his phone.

“We’re here!” Felix announces your arrival.

As you walk into the house, Jisung quickly hugs you and Felix before returning to his conversation with Minho, who utters a quick “hello”.

You glance towards Hyunjin and you’re surprised that he’s already looking at you. He smirks at you and winks as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. As usual, you turn away from his gaze as a slight pink hue adorns your cheeks.

You look up at Felix who seemed to witness the interaction. You swear you see a hint of sadness in his features... no that’s not it. Something similar to sadness and anger but not quite either of those. The freckled boy quickly covers up whatever emotion was on his face and smirks at you, nudging you lightly in a teasing manner.

The first hour or two was pretty fun. The five of you talked about everything and nothing, relaxed for a while and somewhere in that time, Hyunjin had wandered off to who knows where.

Speaking of Hyunjin, he’s being pretty quiet today. Not like his usual confident self at all. Maybe the confidence is all an act? Maybe he’s hiding something beneath the cockiness? Nah, he's probably just bored, you think. The thoughts are just that; thoughts. But you don’t realize just how close to the truth those thoughts are.

As you’re talking to Felix, you feel a sudden urge to pee.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” you say to the boy and get up, walking towards the guest bathroom.

You do your business and head back but as you’re walking towards the living room, you hear a muffled angry “fuck” coming from Jisung’s guest bedroom.

You go closer to the bedroom, wondering what’s going on and why the person inside sounds to upset.

As you get closer, you can make out the sound of... crying? Standing on the other side of the door, you debate going inside.

“Please. Please be joking,” you hear the voice cry, pain evident in the tone.

You decide to see if everything’s okay so you knock gently on the door before pushing it open slightly.

“Hyunjin?” the once flirtatious, cocky boy is sitting in front of you, now reduced to an emotional wreck.

“Who’s there?” he mumbles, refusing to turn towards the intruder.

“It’s me. A-are you okay?” you take a small step inside the room before closing the door.

“Y/n? Why would you care? Don’t you hate me?” Hyunjin mutters with his head hanging low and shoulders drooped. Do you hate him? Do you care? You might not like him some times but you couldn’t truly say you hated him.

“Hyunjin I- I can leave if you want-”

“Stay. Please.” he cuts you off, slowly lifting his head as red puffy eyes meet yours.

You’ve never seen him like this. You don’t exactly know what to do but something inside you makes you stay.

“Okay,” you say and Hyunjin moves aside on the bed, making room for you and patting the space. You usually try to stay as far away from Hyunjin as possible but a part of you wants nothing more than to comfort him and make sure he’s okay.

You take the seat beside him and sit there as he cries. Hyunjin aka the arrogant boy you actively tried to avoid now sits beside you as streams of tears flow from his usually bright eyes and down the smooth skin of his cheeks.

You don't know what makes you do it, but you gently push Hyunjin’s long hair away from his face and tie it up with one of your spare hair ties before softly rubbing circles into the boy’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

Hyunjin looks up at you, surprised by your actions. You yourself are surprised but it seems to be helping him so you continue to do what you’re doing.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says, voice barely above a whisper. He sounds broken. Like all hope has been lost. Like his world, hopes and dreams have just been shattered. Like his heart’s been torn into two.

“I’m here if you want to talk, ‘Jin,” you’re taken aback when the nickname, although never used before by you, comes out of your mouth almost as if you said it every day.

“Thank you, y/n. It’s just my family. I’m sorry for always being annoying. At home, m-my parents are always fighting and it feels like they never notice me. It feels like they don’t love me anymore. I love both of them so much and I can’t stand to see them fight,” Hyunjin’s breathing becomes more uneven as he tries to hold back a new wave of tears.

“I-I guess being cocky and flirty is h-how I deal with it. If I can make someone’s heartbeat a bit faster, even for a second, and they flirt back with me, I guess I feel like I’m worth something. People actually notice me this way, unlike at home. I feel less... lonely. S-so I put up a confident and flirty act t-to hide my insecurities and w-what goes on beneath. I-I keep the real me hidden,” Hyunjin stutters as a fresh wave of tears hits him.

You don’t know what to say. Hyunjin’s always acted so confident and now he’s crumbling right in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry. My parents’ fighting has gotten worse and worse lately a-and now I’ve just f-found out they’re getting a d-divorce,” The blonde boy, once full of playful smirks and flirty winks now sits beside you, sickly pale with red puffy eyes and dried tears covering every inch of his cheeks.

“Hyunjin, it’s okay. Breathe, it’s okay, ‘Jin,” you attempt to calm Hyunjin down. The hand that was rubbing circles on Hyunjin’s back is now pushing stray hairs out of his face and behind his ears as you crouch in front of him and gently wipe his cheeks with tissues from the box that had been sitting on the end of the bed.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, y/n,” he says as his breaths slowly become steadier.

“It’s okay, Hyunjin. You probably needed to tell someone. Do you feel better now that you’ve talked about it?” you ask. You remember how your parents used to say things like this to you and it helped calm you down.

“Y-yeah I do feel a bit better. Thank you, y/n.” he smiles sadly at you. Your heart’s breaking for the boy in front of you. Hyunjin’s parents are getting a divorce and his confidence and flirty persona is all a cover to hide how broken he is inside.

You give Hyunjin a small smile as you meet his eyes. Hyunjin’s eyes are beautiful and you’ve never really noticed until now. They hold so many emotions, memories and thoughts within them. His eyes seem to hold a universe of stars inside them, shining delicately and brightly.

Instead of verbally answering to Hyunjin’s “thank you” you nod your head slightly, never breaking eye contact.

The broken boy in front of you gently grabs your hand as he furrows his eyebrows, asking if the action’s okay. You nod with a small smile and he intertwines your fingers together, holding your hand softly as if you would shatter at any second, but with urgency, almost as if the contact is the only thing keeping him safe from crumbling completely.

You’re the first one to break eye contact as you ask Hyunjin if he wants to get some water and wash his face.

The boy nods and the two of you slowly stand up, hands locked together.

You show Hyunjin where the bathroom is as you quickly go to Jisung’s kitchen to get a glass of water for each of you.

knock knock knock “Who’s there?” Hyunjin calls from inside the guest bathroom.

“Just me, Hyunjin,” you reply. Hyunjin opens the door and you walk in, placing the cups of water on the sink.

You can see he’s still very upset over his parents’ divorcing but he’s trying his best to hide it.

Hyunjin’s always known that something like this was bound to happen one day. He just wasn’t ready yet. He hates the fact that the two people he loves most in the world hate each other, but he can’t help that.

At this moment, the blonde boy is so thankful for you. Although you don’t know each other very well, you helped him at his lowest moment.

He thought you hated him but here you are now, wiping his tears away, helping him to wash his face, combing gently through his long hair and tying it up.

Maybe this would be the start of some kind of friendship between the two of you? At least, Hyunjin hoped it is. You’re the only other person besides Minho that he’s ever opened up to about himself.

“Y/n, please don’t tell anyone. I’m not sure what made me tell you this but I’ve never been this open with anyone besides Minho. I don’t regret it, though,” Hyunjin says as he faces you, his brown eyes finding your own.

“I would never tell anyone, Hyunjin. I promise,” you reply.

Seeing Hyunjin trusting you and opening up to you makes your heart swell a bit. You’re glad you can be here for him.

“Thank you. Really, y/n. I know you may hate me but I’m really grateful that you’re here right now.” the boy says, splashing his face with water once more and drying it with a face towel.

“I don’t hate you, Hyunjin. Not at all. And I’m here for you if you ever need someone to talk to,” you quietly say as you put the face towel on top of the pile of other dirty towels and pick up the now empty glasses.

You move to open the door but Hyunjin stops you, holding your hand once again.

“Can I?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod in response and squeeze Hyunjin’s hand lightly.

Together, you walk into the living room.

There’s something inside you that wants nothing more than to help put the broken boy back together, so that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Help him fix the parts of himself that are hidden from the rest of the world.

-----

a/n: thank you for reading part 1 to this fic. the plot/ideas are all mine. you may like, comment, recommend to a friend, reblog and of course read my work! you may not translate, copy, claim, repost (on tumblr not other sites), base work off this etc (pretty much anything that wasn’t in the “you may” section).

I hope you enjoyed reading this!! I love you have a good day/night <3

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briefinquiries · 4 years ago

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Luke Alvez x Reader: The Flower Garden

Prompt: “can you write an imagine where luke is late to someone's funeral (like a family member or something) and realizes that he wants to bring flowers so on his way he steals some from the readers garden!!! fluff if you can :) thanks!”

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @lcvischmitt , @ogmilkis , @goldenalvez , @ssa-morgan , @garcias-batcave , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016 , @yourwonderbelle , @rachelxwayne , @sc4rletw1tch , @moreidultrastan , @ellvswriting

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: hi bbys! sorry for being so mia i was on vacation all last week,, here’s a spontaneous, fluffy fic to make up for it!

Luke is late. In every sense of the word, he is so late. He’s been wearing this same pair of jeans for almost 48 hours now and his burgundy polo shirt is scratching uncomfortably underneath his rain jacket. His hands are freezing and he doesn’t even have any flowers. His family is going to be so mad.

He’s power walking, well aware that he probably looks like a mom on a mission in the grocery store (thinking of that makes his heart clench in his chest). There’s one more street to walk down–he refuses to drive there, it makes it feel too real. He stuffs shaking hands in his pockets and turns the corner.

Luke doesn’t have flowers. He’s visiting for the first time since it happened, he’s late, and he doesn’t have flowers.

He’s a block away when he sees them, the roses growing almost chaotically over a small wooden fence. He stops and looks down at them, then around. No one’s watching, so he crouches and picks a decent handful, murmuring a few sorries as the stems snap. He notes the house number and reminds himself to write a thank you note before standing up and continuing on his way.

Everyone’s already there when Luke arrives, eyes watery from the wind. His sister gives him a look that would’ve been terrifying if not for the red around her eyes, and Luke mouths his apology while passing out hugs.

With a deep breath he crouches and places the six roses at the base of the polished stone. “Hi, mom.” Luke whispers, pressing a kiss into his hand and then to her name. “Sorry I’m late.”

I miss you. I stole these flowers for you, the old lady they belong to probably noticed already. My boss gave me a few extra sick days because she knows. I’m tired of everyone knowing. I love you.

…

It happens a few more times in the course of two months, and Luke really doesn’t mean to make it a habit, but he can never seem to remember the flowers until he’s well on his way, and there are so many of them in the garden that he hardly feels bad. He never got around to writing the note.

He’s sitting in front of the grave with a bunch of daisies. “The girls miss you.” Luke says quietly, arranging the flowers nicely along the stone. The white is almost too bright to look at. “We all miss you, mom.” He whispers, feeling a tear run down his cheek. “Today at work someone brought in their therapy dog. I can’t remember it’s name, but it spent the whole time licking my shoe. Reckon he knows, too? Anyway, it was nice.”

Luke never means to cry but he always ends up doing it. It takes about twenty minutes for him to be able to breathe again, then he says goodbye and walks the three blocks to his car.

He usually visits once a week, sometimes one of his sisters comes with him. If it’s his younger one, they go get ice cream after. If it’s his older one, which it usually is, they get coffee and don’t talk about it.

…

It’s running on month six when Luke sees you. He’s holding a beautiful bunch of chrysanthemums by his side, when he notices that there’s someone in the window holding the curtain. You make eye contact, and Luke feels very guilty. You don’t look angry, although there’s a noticeable furrow between your eyebrows. You’re wearing a cotton bathrobe and holding a mug of coffee. Luke could use some coffee.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he just smiles and holds up the flowers. Then turns on his heels and walks as quickly as he can.

“It’s not an old lady, mum, it’s a girl. She saw me today, caught me red handed.” Luke mumbles, laughing a bit to himself as he clears away some old flowers and places the new ones. “She didn’t do anything though, so I think I’m okay.” His voice cracks as he says it, and then, as usual, starts crying.

…

It takes two more times for the rightful owner of the flowers to confront Luke about his thievery.

Luke’s on his knees, picking some cute purple flowers when he hears your voice.

“Um, hello?” Luke nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Oh shit.” Luke says, looking up and feeling his heart sink. “Right. I’m sorry I just–your flowers are very nice.”

You smile and cross your arms over your chest. “Thank you.”

Luke’s still kneeling, hands shaking where they’re holding stems. There’s sort of crooked smile on your face. Neither of you are saying anything. You’re wearing an old shirt with a hole near the hem. Luke’s hands are sweating.

“You know, if you’re going to steal my flowers to take to your girl, I think I’m going to have to come with you to make sure she’s beautiful enough to warrant theft.” You say, oddly calm and good natured.

Luke doesn’t know what to say. He just nods, trying to ease the panic rising in his chest.

“Add a few roses.” You order, and Luke nods, picking a few and standing up, finally. “I’m Y/N, by the way.“ You add, extending a hand.

Luke smiles and shakes it. “Luke.” You smile at him one more time and then you start to walk.

You pester him with questions about his imaginary girlfriend, and Luke tries to answer them in the vaguest way possible, all the while trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to explain this when you get to the cemetery.

“Did she like the daisies you picked last time? I always thought those were more of a flower you give your mom, but I guess they’re nice.” you babble, and Luke almost chokes.

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” he says, his heart racing in his chest. The small side entrance is only a few meters away, and you still have no idea. Luke doesn’t say anything as he walks through the gate, holding it open for you, who immediately stops talking as well.

The silence feels like a heavy blanket, and you just follow Luke as he makes the walk, now committed to memory. Luke almost forgets you’re there, dropping to the permanently grass stained knees of his jeans and managing a smile. “Hi Ma.” He places the flowers around the base of the stone, like he always does. Luke jolts when he feels a hand on his thigh, near his knee. He follows the arm up and meets your sad eyes. Luke hadn’t noticed you kneel, too.

“Luke..” you whisper, obviously surprised. Luke doesn’t blame you.

“Don’t.” he says quietly, sniffling and looking away from you. “I brought someone with me. She’s the one I’ve been stealing all the flowers from.” Luke says, smiling a bit and he hears you mumble a soft hello. “She hasn’t called the cops on me yet, which I guess is good.”

He takes a shaky breath before getting choked up. He puts his face in his hands and this was always just a part of his agenda, but the arm around his shoulders is new.

You start talking.

“The first time I was sitting in my kitchen and I was like, oh god do not pick the hibiscuses, they’ve got bees. But he didn’t, he chose some tulips instead.“ you laugh a little, and Luke almost starts crying again. “Between us, I hope he never stops.” you whisper, and Luke knows he wasn’t meant to hear it. There’s a lot he wasn’t meant to do.

Luke sniffles loudly and sits up to wipe his eyes. Your arm is still around his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” he says out of habit, as he’s been doing every time anyone’s seen him cry since October. But you just shake your head and use a thumb to wipe a stray tear.

“Don’t apologize.” You say, you put your hand back on your own lap. Luke wants to tell you to put it back. “I’ll um, give you some privacy.” You stand up and brush off your jeans. “And, Luke, you’re welcome to my flowers anytime.” You give him a bright smile before walking away.

Luke doesn’t watch you walk away. He turns back to the gravestone and sighs. “She’s kinda nice isn’t she mom?”

Luke can almost hear his mom yelling at him.

Don’t be stupid, dear, go after her.

He kisses his hand and presses it against the warming stone. “I love you.” He gets up, not bothering to dust off his knees and all but sprints back out to the sidewalk. Luke jogs down the road and turns the corner, smiling when he sees you walking peacefully down the street.

“Hey!” Luke yells, picking up to a run. You turn, and stop walking, looking surprised that Luke is running after you.

“Let me, um, buy you lunch.” he says breathlessly. “Figure I owe you one, since I’ve been stealing your flowers for months.“

You smile and nod. “Yeah, I guess that's only fair.”

You talk as you walk to your pick of a restaurant, and Luke feels lighter than he has in months.

…

You walk back to your place, and you make Luke promise to close his eyes as you grab the spare key. Luke thinks that it’s painfully adorable.

“Wanna come in?” you ask, looking down at your feet as you say it. Luke’s cheeks go hot at that, being suddenly floored by how pretty you really are.

“I-” Luke starts, before checking his watch. “Really need to be heading home.” He tries not to let the way your face falls hurt his feelings too bad. “I have work in like, an hour, so.” he explains, and you nod.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Maybe another time.” you say, eyes wide and hopeful.

Luke grins. “Definitely. I’ll call you–or you’ll see me in your garden, either one.” He throws in a wink and leans in to peck your cheek before turning and walking down the street to his car. At the corner he turns and finds you still standing in your doorway.

…

It was not a good day. Luke has been avoiding sleep because every time he closes his eyes at night, he can’t stop picturing the time he showed his mom how he could climb the tree in the backyard. He fell on the second branch and skinned his shin and elbow. She patched him up and bought him ice cream, and then they watched movies until Luke fell asleep against her on the couch.

He sighs and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He’d stopped crying about an hour ago, now he’s just staring at his ceiling with his eyes burning. It’s four thirty. Sleep is definitely out of the picture, so Luke grabs his keys and does the only thing he can think of.

He picks seven roses on his way, hops the fence, and finds he can still cry, forehead pressed against cold stone.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there for, but when he opens his eyes, the sky is more grey than black. “Fuck.” He curses and rubs at his stinging eyes. “Sorry for swearing,” He whispers, laughing a bit. “I’ll be back soon, I love you.”

He stands. It’s about to be five in the morning, and Luke really can’t see himself driving all the way back home. He doesn’t quite know what to do as he walks back, but then he sees the garden, and finds himself knocking on the door.

It takes a few, but you open the door, hair a mess, grey sweats hanging low on your hips. “Luke,” You say, surprised. “What are you doing here?” you ask softly.

“Couldn’t sleep. Needed some flowers.” he mumbles, blinking a few times to try and get rid of the blurriness creeping across his eyes. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” you say without missing a beat, and Luke sighs, relieved. He toes off his sneakers at the door and lets you lead him through the house. He can tell that you want to ask, but don’t.

In fact, you don’t say anything, and Luke finds that oddly comforting, you just sit next to Luke on the couch and keep your hands curled in your lap.

“I took some roses again this morning,” Luke admits.

“What color?” is all you respond with.

“The white.”

“That’s the best kind,” you assure him. You can keep helping yourself to those.” you say, leaning over and poking into Luke’s side. “Think of it as my gift to your mom, too.”

That makes Luke tear up a bit.

“I should go,” he says, not wanting to start crying in front of you for a second time.

“Oh,” you say, sounding almost disappointed. “Right— okay.”

Luke stands up, his chest feeling tight and his thoughts racing. But in the midst of the chaos, he hears her voice. Clear as day; the reason behind his messy, illogical mind. Don’t be stupid, dear, go after her.

Luke turns suddenly then, and takes a step closer to you so he can hold your hands in his own. “Can I take you to breakfast right now?”

You beam at him, dimples drilled into your cheeks as you nod in agreement. You hurriedly find a pair of shoes and a jacket, stopping at the door to lock it before following Luke out. You walk to his car hand in hand, and it all feels so right.

They get pancakes, and Luke kisses the whip cream off your lips. People give you looks as you laugh obnoxiously and fond over one another. Luke doesn’t care.

He wakes up the next morning in a bed that isn’t his own and to the smell of bacon. He smiles to himself. “I thought I was making you breakfast?” he asks, laughing a little when he sees you standing in front of the stove.

“Maybe if you had woken up before me,.” you say, looking over your shoulder and smiling at Luke.

You sit down to eat breakfast on the couch, a blanket pulled over both of you, and it’s home.

#luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader fic

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rhenuvee · 4 years ago

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Mission Impossible (George Weasley x Beauxbatons reader)

A/N + Summary: YEAH you’ve seen Fred Weasley x Beauxbatons reader but now I give you GEORGE WEASLEY X BEAUXBATONS READER (wow so cool).

Key: (y/n) - your name, also I just gave your friends names because it would be a hassle to do (y/f/n/1) and so on.

*I realized I’m an idiot for not doing this sooner so tell me if you’d like to be tagged in my future fics. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which one!*

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

The moment you, your friends and headmistress waltzed into the great hall with your elegant movements, it didn’t take long for people to turn heads in admiration- especially for George Weasley.

Was it merely a coincidence that when you looked his way, he was looking right back at you? For a second you almost forgot that you were part of everyone’s center of attention, and that you weren’t the only one in the room.

He threw a wink your way when your group stopped to flourish butterflies to the crowd. You giggled- God, that certainly wasn’t in your choreography, you didn’t even know if it was directed to you! You hoped that nobody saw that.

Once everyone was settled down, one of your friends Camille tapped you on the shoulder almost urgently.

“Who were you looking at?” she whispered, but still loud enough for your two other friends Renee and Jacqueline to hear. “You were looking at someone, (y/n)?” asked Jacqueline. Well, she said that out loud. Most of the Beauxbatons were staring at you waiting for an answer.

“Camille, I wasn’t looking at anyone.” you lied. Camille obviously didn’t believe you, and lifted herself slightly off the bench table to look around. There were too many people that could’ve been the one. Camille furrowed her eyebrows. “Whoever it was, they were on that side of the hall.” she said with her arms crossed.

“Maybe it was a boy...” said Jacqueline with a smirk. Jeez, if anything, she was always the person to suspect the reason to everything was someone you liked. Suddenly your mind reverted back to your few seconds of memory of the red headed boy. He was handsome, no doubt, and that wink could’ve made you blush more than the Beauxbatons entrance.

“She’s blushing! It is a boy!” exclaimed Jacqueline. You immediately cringed and wished that you didn’t know them anymore. “Don’t worry (y/n), we’ll find this boy sooner than you!” said Camille cheerfully while high-fiving Jacqueline. You facepalmed, as if your first- not even hour at Hogwarts had an interesting start.

“All of you are clowns-” you muttered. “well not Renee I guess.”

“No, I’m totally in on this too.” she said quickly.

“Oh... never mind then. Guess I’ll just be miserable then, with three clowns...” you said a fake sadness which made you and your three friends laugh.

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, a similar conversation was happening.

“Georgie, helloooo?” said Fred waving a hand in front of his face. He was too distracted by the pretty smile that left your lips as you laughed. Fred groaned dramatically.

“Hi! I’m a pretty Beauxbatons girl who the less attractive Weasley twin seems to be distracted by!” said Fred in a mock girly tone.

“Huh?” said George out of his daydream.

“Well that got his attention.” said Harry as he and Ron snickered.

“What are you on about, Fred?” asked George. “I’m saying you’ve been staring at where those Beauxbatons girls are sitting, Georgie. One of them caught your eye?” he asked slyly, but with a knowing smile.

“No-”

“Well then why you looking there? You like the colour blue?” asked Fred laughing into his question. The people listening into the conversation around them went into a fit of laughter. But jokes aside, if anyone knew George it obviously had to be his twin. He saw how his cheeks were tinted a slight pink, and the daydream? It was a dead giveaway to him. The question only remained as to which girl it was- there were lots of you. Fred was more than welcome to play detective.

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

The next night, you went to accompany Fleur to put her name in the goblet. You decided to stay for a while to watch and clap for the other people who were planning to enter. It was very brave of them to take on the tournament after all.

“YESSSSSSSSS!!” you heard two voices call out while running to high five other students. It was him. You immediately perked up and felt your body tense up. You giggled to yourself as they explained to a girl why their plan would work. A bit silly, he was, but it attracted you nonetheless.

Then it happened again, the boy turned his head for a brief moment from the crowd and landed on you. This time you had a closer view of him. You could see his ginger hair with the fire of the goblet reflecting it, his cute freckles, and his eyes which you could tell held a lot of mischief in them.

His mouth was slightly parted at the sight of you, but quickly split into a grin, knowing you were watching him. You couldn’t help but to smile back- in fact a little too widely to your liking, so you put a hand to cover your mouth.

“(Y/N)!” yelled a voice too familiar. Camille, Jacqueline and Renee sauntered in, earning a sigh of frustration to you. Here we go again...

“Hm- why are you so smiley?” asked Camille. Then the three of them gasped in sync. “T-the boy! Is he here?!” they all said looking around frantically. “No I did not see ‘t-the boy’.” you said mocking them dramatically.

Your argument was interrupted by the shouts of the two redheads earlier, who honestly don’t have red hair anymore, and sat up to reveal that they were growing beards. The circle of people around them started laughing as they fought. You and your friends giggled at the sight, but you couldn’t help to feel a little concerned for the boy.

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

You were thankful that your friends didn’t pester you right then and there, but that didn’t mean they weren’t on your case anymore.

It was getting late, and you should’ve been with the rest of the Beauxbatons students, but you snuck around asking people where the hospital wing was. You don’t know why you decided to listen to your heart that was telling you to go see the boy after the aging potion fiasco.

You took a peek inside and saw them already finished getting their beards shaved, and hair back to normal. You decided to wait outside for him until he came out. People started to give you weird looks since your blue uniform stuck out like a sore thumb.

Your heart started racing as you saw him come into your view. You tapped his arm lightly to get his attention. He turned around, and you could swear he had a light blush on his cheeks.

“Hi...” you said shyly.

“Hi.” he said back, chuckling at your short choice of greeting.

“I remember you,” he said, amused at the way you timidly tried to hide your smile. “I see you were worried about me.”

“I see you shaved your beard.” you shot back. He laughed at your reply while sheepishly rubbing his neck.

“Oi! George, we got- oh hello there.” said Fred with a smirk on his face. You smiled shyly. “So you’re the girl Georgie’s been staring at.” Fred’s shin was quickly met with George’s foot kicking it.

“Don’t snog for too long.” said Fred while waving and turning on his heel to leave. George was about to say something when your voice made him decide to deal with it later.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n), nice to meet you.” you said sticking out your hand. “Nice to meet you too, sweetheart.” he said taking your hand and bringing it to his lips to press a light kiss to it. You blushed- you were expecting a handshake. He seemed to be quite a charmer.

“Hey! Don’t try to make me throw up in the middle of the hall!” called out Fred. You hid in embarrassment.

“Fred, mate, I thought you were heading to the great hall.” said George. “You should be heading there too you know?” Fred shot back. George turned back to look at you and smiled.

“We’ll see you later then, darling.” he said running off. “See you...” you replied softly.

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

You felt this emptiness when George left even for a brief moment. But at the same time it was better since your friends wouldn’t expect anything compared to if you walked in together.

You sat down at the table with the rest of the Beauxbatons students, waiting for everyone else to be settled down. You looked for George at his table and he caught back your gaze with silly faces. You giggled to yourself. Fred also peaked his head in your view and waved.

“Okay now you definitely are hiding something, is it the kid with the glasses?” Jacqueline asked, surprising you in the process. “What?”

“We know where you’re looking, it’s someone at that table. Is it the boy with the untucked uniform?” added Camille. “Jeez you guys can’t even bother to mind your own business, and why do you always think I’m with a boy?” you asked a little too defensively. “Why can’t you be like Renee, she’s not poking her nose into everything.”

“To be honest I want to know too.” she said.

“Oh... well anyway- don’t you guys have anything better to do?” you asked.

“Not really, but you’re getting off topic- is it the ginger haired guy?” asked Camille. “There are a lot of ginger haired guys.” you said.

“Hmmm... very suspicious, she has the knowledge that there are a lot of ginger haired guys.” said Jacqueline stroking an imaginary beard.

“You guys are just delusional.” you said jokingly to them.

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

Throughout your experience at Hogwarts, it was very interesting, and sure enough you were kept on your toes trying to see George without any of your friends suspecting anything. If they knew the two of you snogged a few times in a broom closet, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Luckily Fred promised to keep it a secret.

You and George had a type of chemistry between you and him, and you could feel it from day one. It was only a matter of time before the both of you expressed your passion.

“Georgie, your lips are puffy...” you said slightly out of breath while still in George’s embrace.

“And? So are yours.” he said with a smirk, and brushing a hair out of place on your eyes. You slapped him playfully on the arm.

“That’s not what I meant. Won’t your friends and siblings suspect something?” you asked.

“Mm, I guess you’re right sweetheart. In fact my sister’s on my case now.” he said.

“Ginny was it?” he nodded to your response. “What excuse are you going to use this time?” you asked crossing your arms.

“I bumped into a tree?” he said cheekily. You laughed with your hands clutched at your stomach- he swears he could die happy from that. “What type of tree is that?” you asked calming down.

“One that looks like this.” he said booping your nose. “But more importantly, what about your friends, aren’t they ruthless?” he asked.

“Ugh yes. Keeping away from them is like Mission Impossible...” you said in an annoyed tone. “A mission what now?” he asked. You shook your head, and went back to put your arms on his chest.

“It’s nothing.” you said sweetly.

“Tell me, I wanna know.” he said bringing you closer.

“Fine, maybe later. But kiss me first.”

“Gladly.”

#george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #george weasley fic #george weasley fluff #george weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #harry potter #hp fanfic #beauxbatons #fred weasley #george weasley oneshot #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #harry potter george weasley

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adorablele · 4 years ago

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anon requested: Could I please get a little thing where you get married to yuta? And like he's so excited about it. And you basically sneak out and do it without anyone knowing. That would be so lovely 💚

↬ pairing: knight!nakamoto yuta x reader (prince!jaehyun x reader but they’re not the main pair) ↬ genre: fluff, fantasy (?), a little bit of medieval!au, royal!au, knight!au, prince!au ↬ word count: 2262 ↬ summary: you elope with the knight yuta ↬ a/n: I finally have something out after a million years </3 I tried doing a medieval!au but I’m not quite sure how well I did- the basis is that their royalty lmao. and this is the first fic I have for yuta,, hip hip hooray! ALSO 190614 YUTA IS ICONIC AND HE WAS INSPO FOR THIS WOLE THING PLEASE HIS RED MAN BUN chile, anyways please enjoy <3

You stood in front of your fiance, clothes thin against your skin. The lantern on his table barely lit the room, highlighting the slope of his nose and apples of his cheeks. Your eyes darted along the lines of his perfectly shaped brows, then down to his always warm eyes that slitted beautifully into crescents when he smiled, accompanied by cute dips in his cheeks. And to you, he smiled (unlike his stern frown to his soldiers). To you, he laughed (unlike the deafening silence to his war council). To you, he spoke with care (which was a little more loving than his tone to the villagers). To everyone, he was your strong prince–soon to be king–whose heart was in your hands, you: his doting significant other.

But it was not love.

“Goodnight,” you quietly told him.

He placed his pen down and looked up at you. Those warm eyes, so welcoming, so far, so distant. Jaehyun smiled at you, one that had men and women alike swooning at his feet. His response was just as soft as your’s, two syllables, a whisper that barely reached the walls of the dim room. “Goodnight.” With a gentle poke against his dimples, you left.

For a minute or two, you sat in your room– sorry, your shared room, with a thrumming heart. The ring that the prince had presented to you lay cold on your bedside table, off of your finger and as lonely as the room. Your grip tightened on the small sack of belongings in your lap, nervousness tickling your restless fingers. You waited for a count of five before you heard the rehearsed knock against the stone of your window sill. ‘He’s here,’ you thought to yourself.

Your body moved as you had practiced. You made small, stealthy steps over the floor as you adjusted the pillows to make it look as if there was someone sleeping in the bed before you took one last glance at the ring that bound you to the prince in a few hours...or, it would if you stayed. With a melancholy smile, you whispered, “I wish you the best,” before jumping out the window.

Yuta caught you in his arms, effortlessly holding you despite your unannounced fall. He stood there under the moonlight, hair satin red contrasting to the black coat draped over his shoulders.

“A warning would’ve been nice,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t stop the curve of your lips. “Let’s go before we get caught.”

He placed you down, then lent you a hand to help you up on his horse, Win. His hands were warm and rough against yours, but nevertheless more comforting than the awkward grip of Jaehyun. You wrapped your arms around his waist, grip tight as if he’d drift away from you any moment. A month ago, it would’ve hurt your pride to have your arms so snug against the rude, arrogant, quick-witted knight in front of you. ‘How annoying,’ you thought, ‘it took me a month to fall in love with this man.’ One month.

“Ready my love?”

Your heart palpitated. “Did I not tell you to get going?”

Once again he chuckled, the sound light and hearty, cutting through the silence of the night. The sound settled in your ears before getting whisked away by the wind when Win started galloping farther, and farther, away from the stone palace. One month. One month ago you moved into that palace and you were instructed to get to know Jung Jaehyun. Afterall, he was the prince you were supposed to marry by the end of the month. You’re supposed to marry him tomorrow. Jaehyun was someone so ethereal that you truly felt that you were in a fairytale, but he did not love you and you did not love him. Instead, you fell in love with the hot-headed knight, Nakamoto Yuta, the knight of the Prince.

Hours seemed to pass until the two of you finally arrived at your destination, or you think it’s the destination because Win stopped moving. The two of you were in the middle of the forest, trees hovering above you, cascading long shadows across the ground. You could hear nothing but the faint run of water. (“Listen to the water,” the sweet old baker advised, “it’ll tell you if you’re in the right spot.”) Of course, when you and Yuta were sneaking out into the village, you didn’t understand the old lady. It made sense now. The stream seemed to be whispering to you, beckoning you into the forest.

“We’re here,” you announced, stopping Yuta from continuing to pester the horse to move.

“We are?” he asked, glancing around hesitantly at the foreboding cluster of trees surrounding the two of you.

“Yes.”

Yuta took a moment to stare at you before he hopped off. He then lended you a hand, helping you off Win who whinnied when you got off.

“I suppose we should get going,” Yuta suggested, hand gentle against yours. Again, he glanced around, “but where are we supposed to go?”

“There.” You pointed to a path between the trees that you don’t exactly remember being there, but you could feel it in your gut that that’s where the two of you were supposed to go.

He gave your hand a light squeeze before nodding, “Let’s go.”

With each step it seemed like the trees parted, creating a trail to–you assumed–the stream. The whisper of the stream kept its quiet tone as the two of you walked, but stopped when you found it. Around you, the air felt different; cooler, calmer, tranquil. The trees closed up the path behind you which completed a ring of trees securing the two of you in the area. ‘Guess there’s no turning back,’ you thought. You had no reason to turn back, though. In front of you was the smooth-sailing stream, glimmering like the stars in the sky. You tilted your head, looking closer at the water. Is it...

“Is it...glowing?” you murmured, turning to Yuta who was mystified at the glow of the rock.

His brows furrowed, “So I’m not imagining it?”

You shook your head, looking back at the small glow of the lake. You jumped closer to Yuta when the ground started to shake, two flat rocks surfacing the stream.

“What’s happening?” you yelped, moving even closer into Yuta’s arms.

He backed away, causing you to back away too. “Shouldn’t you know? You’re the one who said this was the spot?”

You glared at him, “Are you putting the blame on me?”

“What? No-”

He didn’t finish his sentence, mouth clamping shut when he saw the grin growing on your face. He playfully rolled his eyes at you.

“Did you just roll your eyes at royalty?”

“If I did?” he challenged, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to do,” you teased, nose brushing against his.

His lips curved into a playful grin, “My deepest apologies, love.” His eyes gleamed with life, brown irises swirling with happiness.

Your lips hovered over his, “Are you really sorry?”

Before he could utter yes and kiss you, he suddenly pulled away. You watched in confusion, not only at his actions, but at your own. You felt your body move against your will, walking farther away from the stream and towards a niche in the trees. You had forgotten about the glowing rocks, the living trees, the mystical atmosphere; apparently it didn’t forget you.

Yuta was confused as to why he suddenly didn’t have control over his body and was walking towards the glowing rock in the middle of the clear stream. He watched as you turned to walk into a space that the trees created. He wanted to shout after you, heart racing that maybe you’re leaving him, but he knew that you loved him, right? ‘Of course they do,’ he chided to himself, ‘they ran away from a life of luxury to run away with you.’ That thought made him smile.

Jaehyun’s parents told him, one day, that they found a suitor for him. Yuta remembered how Jaehyun abided by his parents’ wishes despite the fact that Jaehyun already gave his heart to someone else. He remembered the first day that the suitor–you–walked into the palace. You held yourself with confidence, with the proper posture of a royal. You smiled obediently to your parents, to Jaehyun’s parents and you simply glazed your eyes over him. You then nodded cordially to Jaehyun who returned the gesture. His parents gushed with yours how the two of you were a perfect couple, and he used to scoff at that. He used to scoff at how the commoners would praise the sight of you and Jaehyun; a match made in heaven. But you were used to striving to be what everyone expected of you, that was all you knew.

(‘What do you want?’ he asked you one day.

‘To run away,’ you replied.

‘Then we shall.’ )

Run away. Yuta chuckled to himself. You wanted to run away, so how did he end up here? Standing on a glowing rock with the vows that he spent so long writing slipping from his memory; grinning like a lovestruck maiden at the future that only existed if you were in it; heart palpitating in his chest as he awaited for you to return from the trees; praying that you hadn’t run away, that you still loved him as much as you had told you did.

“They still love you,” he announced aloud, “they wouldn’t abandon you in a forest.”

“Maybe I would,” you cheekily replied, appearing from the trees.

His snarky remark fainted on his tongue at the sight of you. The moon lit magnificently around you, accenting your graceful figure in the darkness of the night. You were wearing the exact same clothes as before, your hair was styled the exact same way (though maybe a little brushed), but most importantly, you still held the same amount of love (or perhaps more) in the soul of eyes. He didn’t realize that his mouth was ajar, nor did he realize that you started walking towards him until you lifted his chin.

“Mouth closed my knight,” you smiled.

He swallowed, mouth shutting before opening again, “What took you so long?”

You raised a brow, “You’re the one who kept me waiting!”

“Me?”

“Yes! You kept contemplating with yourself,” you frowned, looking down at your tightly clasped hands, “I thought you didn’t- I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

His heart broke at the doubt floating in your words. His calloused fingers intertwined with your soft ones. “Don’t ever think that.”

You stared up at him with teary eyes.

“I love you,” he softly, yet firmly, declared. It resonated throughout the forest, brushing through the grass and traveling up the roots of the trees. His rock glowed brighter, but he didn’t pay any mind to this, instead, he cupped one side of your face, thumb wiping away the tears that started to fall from your eyes. He started to ramble about all the things he loved about you, and all the times he realized that he loved you. Like when you fell off Win the first time you tried riding it, shoved Yuta barely a centimeter before trying again and again until you were able to ride Win like he was your own horse; like when you didn’t make fun of him for not gaining a proper education as a child–as he had been a poor boy who was better at fighting than talking–and you were patient in educating him after he refused to have anyone else teach him besides you; like when you ignored him and did petty pranks on him for a week because he gifted you a dessert you didn’t like (he didn’t mean to order the wrong thing).

“Be quiet,” you cried, “since when did you talk so much?”

“You rubbed off on me,” he laughed, nose nuzzling against yours.

For a moment, the two of you stared into each other’s eyes. Yuta could see nothing but his future.

“I love you too,” you whispered, “I love you so much.”

He sealed the deal by pressing his lips to yours.

Both of the rocks below the two of you grew bright, almost as bright as the Sun. The trees grew taller, the stream flowed faster, and the wind started to howl. When your lungs started to scream for oxygen, you pulled away, forehead against his. The trees started to shorten to its size as before, the water flowed as normal, and the wind was back to its smooth sailing. The rocks were still below you, but they weren’t glowing anymore.

It was done.

“We’re married,” you uttered in disbelief, tears still falling from your eyes. You were not a crybaby, so why did you keep crying?

“Are those tears of happiness?” he chuckled, brushing away your tears.

You playfully glared, “No, they’re tears of sadness because I’m bounding myself to the love of my life.”

“Can’t back out now,” he sighed, “you’re stuck with me.”

“How awful,” you laughed.

“I’m not sorry,” he shrugged.

“Just kiss me already.” Yuta did not need to be told twice.

The full Moon glowed silently in the sky. It would soon bid farewell and the Stars would follow mischievously as the Sun rose into the sky, ridding the world of secrets with its light. No one would know of what occurred the night before, no one but the Moon and the Stars. Don’t worry. They’re good at keeping secrets.

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snowbellewells · 4 years ago

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CSSS20 Fic: “One Little Ray of Hope”

Merry Merry Christmas @let-it-raines!!! Can you believe we ended up being each other’s Secret Santas?!? It was all I could do not to spoil the surprise yesterday when you posted your amazing story gift for me, but here I am finally with yours in return, and I truly hope you will enjoy it.

You mentioned that you like friends-to-lovers and mutual pining, which I genuinely tried to do to the best of my ability. However, I discovered neither of those things are actually types of fic I have done much. This comes out more like bantering crushes, and Emma-in-denial-finally-admitting-what-everyone-else-already-knows. I did set it in the Enchanted Forest for you, and I tried to mix in the humor and the feels so it has a bit of everything. And there are Christmas touches but it isn’t holiday overwhelming. I got to the stopping place I envisioned though, and it just wasn’t enough. I hope you will forgive me if I say this is only Part One and there will be a Part Two coming shortly once the holiday hoopla dies down. (In all honesty, I was anxious that my story was for you - I love your writing so much, and I am not at all sure this measures up! And then I read your gift and was even more blown away.) Still, here’s hoping this brings a smile to a shipmate like you who has been so friendly and kind and made me smile with your writing all year long! Part Two - and hopefully some fic cover art - to follow soon!)

“One Little Ray of Hope”

by: @snowbellewells

Though the fire in the stone hearth was blazing merrily, the lights from their lamps combatted the dark sky and frigid wind blasting flurries of snow outside their windows, and the jovial voices of many of their regulars mingled on the air to make things cozy inside the little inn and tavern, Emma Swan still shivered at the winter's chill. There, was some hint of frost that wouldn't go away, forming small icy crystals inside her chest - one particular voice that always stood out from the rest to her ears, was missing. She cursed herself for noticing, cursed him for being so unmistakable, and slammed an empty tankard onto her tray as she cleared the just-vacated table more violently than she had meant to.

Naturally Ruby would be passing by just then, on her way to wait on some exuberant new arrivals, and she playfully arched one of her dark brows with a teasing smirk. "Looks like someone's a little frustrated this evening."

From over her shoulder, where Emma hadn't even realized anyone was nearby, Tink tittered with a playful little giggle to Ruby, "Well, you know, we do seem to be short some of Emma's favorite guests this evening…" pirate was not her special anything. Honestly, she was just tired, overworked, overheated, and ready for some fresh air away from the evening crowd. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that Captain Killian Jones, with his unfairly blue eyes and his stomach-flipping accent wasn't here pestering her and getting in her way. What did she care if his farewell to her before he set sail nearly two months' back was that he would return in time for the Yuletide festivities? False hope and nonsense, all of it anyway…

And yet… tomorrow was Christmas day, her traitorous mind whispered as she plunked her heavy tray of dishes on the counter where the Widow Lucas - the proprietor of their inn, and 'Granny' to all of them - was serving up orders and Ashley was doing dishes as fast as she could to serve warm bread and hearty stew on them once more. Again, her approach was none too gentle, as she huffed out a breath of air and pushed her hair from her face impatiently.

"Careful there, my girl. Any dishes you break will be comin' from your pay," the widow threatened idly. Granny put on a tough front - one had to in a rough and tumble harbor town - and she meant business if she had to bring out her crossbow from where she kept it close to hand beneath the counter, but she was a soft heart beneath the necessary bluster and hard shell. She loved all "her girls" and most of her patrons dearly, wanting them to know they were welcome and cared for in her inn - and while many like she and her granddaughter had little in the way of blood-related family, she aimed to give them a feeling of home in her place.

Emma smiled slightly, acknowledging Granny's words without comment, despite knowing the older woman would do no such thing. She unloaded the dirtied tankards and bowls more carefully into the soapy water for Ashley and forced herself to draw a couple of deep breaths as Granny loaded her up with the next order.

Just as Emma moved to lift the tray and move off again, Granny placed her own hand over Emma's kindly, keeping her there until Emma met her eyes. "Don't let Ruby irk you. She means no harm," was the quietly offered advice, to which Emma nodded sagely, already knowing as much. It was only when Granny winked and added, "Of course, if you're awaiting some handsome sailor, I wager he'll be here soon," that Emma let out an exasperated huff and spun away to the sound of her boss and pseudo-grandmother's laughter at her back. Shaking her head, she seethed, 'Everyone thinks I'm waiting for Jones…. Well, I'm not!'

The night went on without much further interruption; the snow fell in continued flakes, swirled and eddied by the window and pilling up on the windowsills. Inside their crowded tavern, however, the cozy warmth continued to rise right along with the songs and laughter of those gathered within. Soon Emma found her face flushed, cheeks pinked from the heat and close quarters. Even as the gathered crowd began to dwindle, slowly trickling out the door and homeward in twos and threes, as she, Ruby, Tink, and Ashley began to wipe down empty tables and see to storing up leftover food and seeing drinks stoppered and sealed for the night. Granny had gone upstairs nearly an hour before as the midnight hour had come and gone, claiming her old bones needed the rest, and Mulan, who did not appear the musical type, but who had once confessed when more than a bit tipsy on dwarf mead that her parents had seen that she was learn all sorts of marriageable skills in the hopes of seeing her matched with a smart, dashing husband before she had left hoe to make her own way - had switched from plunking out bawdy sea shanties and reels for the gathered revelers and lighting begun pecking out chords to a few softer and slower Yuletide carols as a background accompaniment to the cleaning and the quieter murmurs of those who still lingered in conversation over their last drinks.

Not long after, Ruby silently slipped out the kitchen exit in back with the solemn huntsman who came every night to break bread and drink not at all other than to drink in her presence and bask in her company had stood and followed her like a silent shade as she beckoned from the doorway. Ashley had headed upstairs herself for some rest in her own apartments, as had Tink, saying the last town gazette's gossip section was calling her name. Mulan had paused at the door before heading to her own house a couple streets over, telling Emma she would make rounds of the block first, to see that all stragglers had gone home, and no trouble was lingering about them before she left.

Emma thanked the beautiful warrior sincerely, knowing that it was no more or less than the other woman did every night, determined that these friends who took her and all others at face value, welcoming all lost and weary travelers without trying to change them were safe and secure. She would see no harm come to the Widow Lucas and her adopted "sisters" on her watch; Emma knew Mulan took that charge upon herself as a sworn duty. The rest of them would never have put such weight on her shoulders, but each one of them also slept easier knowing Mulan was nearby. The slim build, shining curtain of silky black hair and delicate features could have long ago earned Mulan the hand of any prince, pirate, or nobleman who laid eyes on her, but those physical attributes all deceptively hid her strength, speed, and core of deadly steel if anyone threatened harm to those she loved.

"We'll be alright," Emma assured again, as Mulan bid her goodnight. "Everyone was in good spirits this evening. No fights, no trouble. Please rest easy once you get home. I can't imagine anything should happen until we see you again tomorrow."

"As you say," the raven-haired woman replied simply, and with a slight dip of her head in a bow, she turned and slipped into the night with such soundless agility and grace that she seemed to melt into the darkness - unseen in mere seconds.

Closing the door at last, Emma latched it securely, making certain the tavern and rooms above were locked properly for the night. She then began to move about the large, open main room, blowing out the candles still left aglow on scattered tabletops and snuffing out the wall sconces as well as she made a final pass around the main space. At last her final chores were complete, one last lit candle in her hand as she stood before the front window, looking down the moonlit street toward the docks for a moment longer. Captain Jones and his crew had yet to be seen in town, and while she could tell the others she didn't care - could even tell herself that in the light of day - here alone in the silent frosty night, Emma couldn't help wondering where he might be, and if he were well.

"Jones, if you're out there," she murmured, hoping only the snow and ice and the Christmas star would hear her, "Take care or yourself… and be safe 'til we meet again."

She had crossed the darkened room, placed her hand on the stair rail and was on the first step up to the second floor, when she heard the lightest rapping at the side door into the alley. Pausing there, Emma held her breath, listening uncertainly for the knock again, hardly daring to hope. She only had her candle in hand, the shadows long around her. Were Ruby and her huntsman still outside keeping each other warm despite the winter's chill? Could there be a prowler who had lain in wait until their self-appointed guardian had left for the night, or might it be the visitor she had been promised? The face she had looked for in anticipation every time the inn's door had opened to welcome a new patron that night? She would deny it to anyone, but those dark brows arched up into his windswept hair in challenge or jest, over eyes as blue as his beloved ocean, had been sorely missed; she had hoped to see him home again for Christmas more than she wanted to allow herself.

She drew nearer to the side entrance, not wishing to give any her presence if the person on the other side bore ill intent, but straining to hear all the same; seeking some sign she was right and to confirm the feeling she had about who awaited on the other side. Gathering her courage, Emma reached for the fireplace poker beside the large stone hearth. Its embers were now dead for the night, but only a short while ago it had been blazing hotly, heating the entire space. She was not some frightened child at any rate; she'd hold her own against any intruder if the opened door led to a nasty surprise.

Sure enough, the rapping came again, more firmly and with the added hushed entreaty, "Swan? Are you still about, Lass? Emma Swan! It's Captain Jones if you're still about and wish to see your sailor!"

Her concerns brushed aside at the tones of that voice she could not mistake, Emma let the metal of her makeshift weapon clatter against the stone as it dropped from her fingers. With an exuberant little cry, she was at the door and lifting the latch in a second. The candle in her hand flickered and nearly went out with the stunned breath that left her upon glimpsing his handsome form once again after so long away.

To his credit, Jones didn't tease; instead looking rather stunned himself as his gaze appeared busy drinking her in as well. Soon, he slipped inside out of the blustery chill and, seeing that her hand holding lighted taper was shaking considerably, he took it from her with care and reached to light the nearest sconce, casting their immediate surroundings with enough warm glow by which to see.

Finally, she regained enough of her faculties to speak, and Emma stuttered, "It seemed you were not coming, Captain. Ruby mocked me all day for my foul temper and Tink joined in of course to say it was due to my missing and certain pirate and his crew. The busybodies!" she scoffed. But then she reached across the space between hem to catch his hand. "I did worry you might have been arrested, or hurt, or wrecked…or lost…any number of things. Or perhaps I gave you no clear assurance, and instead you had moved on, not to return."

Killian shook his head just barely, looking troubled that she could even think he would abandon or fail her so easily. "Hardly Lass," he stated fervently, a sort of fiery glow in his eyes she had not seen before. I did say I would return by Yuletide, did I not? A pirate I might be, but I still have my honor. It would take more than the increased vigilance of the Evil Queen and her forces to keep me away."

Emma sucked in a worried breath at the cause of his delay. They all hoped to keep far under the notice of the usurper monarch - as cold and cruel as she was darkly attractive, she would end a life as easily as snapping her fingers, and at the slightest provocation, real or imagined. Life had been all the harder and more fraught with danger since Regina had wrested the crown from her kind and gentle stepdaughter Snow White, the rightful heir to the crown. If Killian were wanted by Queen Regina and had snuck back into her borders only to keep his promise, Emma could not bear to consider what would happen if he were discovered.

Now was the moment of truth, before anymore needless time slipped past. It was time she told him what she had realized while no teasing friends or rowdy onlookers were listening in. "I missed you," she finally managed to croak out around the lump in her throat. "Thank you… Killian…for keeping your word."

He dipped his head to look into her eyes where she had dropped her gaze to her feet. A strong, calloused hand, warm and gentle in its intent, tipped her chin back up to stare into his searching gaze. "Of course, Swan - Emma. All I could have wished for this holiday was…" he paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously and a hand coming up to worry the spot behind his ear - gesture she had long ago noticed signified nervousness. But he plunged on determinedly, "was to see you again, to see you and give you this."

Pulling a small pouch from some inner pocket of his long leather jacket, he held it out to her with sparkling eyes, appearing almost boyish for a moment in his eagerness to see her open his gift, and whispering "Happy Christmas, Emma," as he placed it in her upturned palm.

Emma's mouth formed a surprised "O", having not expected or hoped for anything more than his safe return. Opening the ties, she tilted the soft material until the item within spilled out in her hand. Holding up a long, golden chain with an exquisite stone of lovely pale green, near to jade in color, swinging from it, she was enchanted by the pendant he had brought her. "Oh, it's gorgeous," she breathed, rather stunned at how nice the piece of jewelry was. She wore (or even owned, to be honest) little of such finery.

"It's sea glass," Killian explained, taking the piece back in nimble fingers when she offered it, then turned, lifting her long hair so he could place the chain around her neck and fasten it for her. "Though sailors believe sea glass is good luck, that it keeps the wearer safe, and I would always wish you to be so, I knew it had to be yours because of the color. It reminded me vividly of your eyes…" Though the necklace was secured, his fingers still grazed featherlight along her skin, causing prickles of awareness to course throughout her body, and his own voice had turned decidedly husky.

At last, Emma turned to face him once more, breaking the trance between them, but needing to thank him, and for him to see how touched she was by his gift, even if her voice was breathless and her words trembled with emotion. "I don't know what to say. You shouldn't have, but I adore it all the same. I'll treasure it, Killian. Truly." And without further hesitation or pausing to think and second guess, Emma threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly to her. "Thank you," she whispered against his chest, breathing in the salty, spicy essence of him and nuzzling against his chest. She realized with a force that almost knocked her off her feet that she never wanted to let go.

She felt Killian Jones' fingers thread through her hair, stroking gently, reverently as they stood there wrapped up in each other, swaying slightly in the candle glow and the howl of the wind outside. Emma felt they might indeed stay that way forever, and that neither of them would mind at all, until more rapid knocking interrupted their silent moment. The door handle rattled urgently, and she heard a nervous voice she recognized as Killian's first mate's speaking in hurried words. "Cap'n, you told me to summon you when an hour had gone. I've already seen one patrol of black guard go by. If they notice the Jolly in the harbor…"

"Aye, Smee," he gritted out, stopping the anxious flow of words. "Head back and make ready to sail. I'll follow in a moment."

He sighed as he turned back to Emma, tracing his thumb over the apple of her cheek and pausing to caress the dimple in her chin as he cradled her face in his hand.

"You have to go," she acknowledged reluctantly; hating it, but understanding and wanting to see him safe, just as he did her. Her words were wistful, wishing he could stay there with her - or that she could run away with him - but it was too much, too quickly, no matter how she dreaded being parted again so soon.

"I must, for now," he affirmed, the regret lacing every syllable of his words. "But I hope that now you know I will return."

She nodded mutely, her mind trying to memorize every detail of his face, his voice, his touch, until she could see him again. "And I will be here waiting for you," she promised with equal intent.

Bending slightly, Killian brushed his lips against her cheek, his stubble tickling her skin and again making her shiver at the sensation. It was the lightest and most gallant of kisses, and yet it only served to make her burn for more - for him to take her in his arms, for those firm lips to kiss her everywhere, for him to take her to her own apartments, or back to his cabin. It would keep her burning for however long they might be kept apart.

As he had to leave, heading out again into the dark night, Emma stood at the door watching until the very second his vanished from her sight, no longer able to deny how anxiously she would await his return.

#csss20 #cs EF au ff #cs two shot #gift for @let-it-raines #one little ray of hope #part one #cs secret santa 2020

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eigwayne · 3 years ago

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A Little Spoiled (ChengQing fic)

Chapter 2 of 4: Advice from Aunty, and a Date Some advice from one of her aunties and Granny Wen convinces Wen Qing to keep her secret rendez-vous with Jiang Wanyin. He's alternately sweet and domineering and shy and infuriating, and Wen Qing wants him anyway. But first, she tells him some things he needed to hear (just... not about his core...).

Chapter 1 on Tumblr | AO3 links: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Author’s Notes: I forgot to mention on chapter 1: I'm using more romanized titles, like "gongzi", than translations like “Young Master”. If anyone needs a glossary, please check references like this. Also this fic is very closely from Wen Qing's POV, so all we'll see of Jiang Cheng's thoughts for now will be parenthetical inserts.

I ended up rewriting a lot of the inn scene, which is why this took two weeks to update instead of the two days I originally planned. As a result, I think the chapter quality and length are a bit better, and I touched on a couple more things I think they would need to air between them (no, no golden core reveal in this fic, although it's never that far from Wen Qing's mind and hopefully that will come across at some points before the fic ends). The smut will have to wait until chapter three. I've joked about this porn developing plot on my Tumblr but that's exactly what happened.

The message technique Wen Qing uses to contact Uncle Four from the inn is supposed to be the one she used in the drama to contact Wen Ruohan. I noticed it was three lines of three characters, written in fire in the air, and couldn't get the image/format out of my head (the symmetry was beautiful). No, I have no idea what Jiang Cheng uses and the methodology wasn't relevant to the story, so please imagine what you wish.

Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng butt heads a little in this chapter and there's a couple moments of jealousy from both of them, and Jiang Cheng grabs Wen Qing's arm at one point, if you're sensitive to those sorts of things. This isn't a smooth relationship (there's so much baggage between them!) and I had to get some things out of the way. The rest of the physical contact is welcome, I just wanted to give a heads-up just in case.

And now for the actual chapter:

“You look worried,” Granny said as she sat next to Wen Qing. Wei Wuxian had left his inventing for a bit and A-Yuan was focused on getting him to dance, which gave his other caretakers a moment of peace.

“Not worried,” Wen Qing clarified. “Just… thinking something over.” Her rendez-vous with Jiang Wanyin was in four days, and she’d found three pieces of silver that definitely weren’t hers in the hair ribbons he’d bought the week before. She couldn’t repay this, and he had strongly hinted that he intended to buy her more when they met again. He’d also strongly hinted that he wanted to continue the passionate kisses they’d shared under the tree, and she should be wary of that as well.

And yet, she’d spent time and spiritual energy the last few days, enlarging her qiankun pouch’s inside despite coming up with all sorts of arguments why she shouldn’t accept anything from him. She thought of the way the furrow between his brow eased when he was being sweet and how his lips parted when he was pleased. She thought of his arms and his kisses and the feel of his chest under her hands, and how those thoughts replaced all her other fantasies when she was alone at night.

But now, in the afternoon under the hazy Burial Mounds sun, Granny just smiled and patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll come up with a good solution.” She was going to leave it at that. She did that more often now that Wen Qing was an adult. The difference in their status under Wen Ruohan was deeply ingrained; Wen Qing may be younger, but she and Wen Ning were the closest relations to the old leaders of the sect, the strongest cultivators. If not for Wei Wuxian, they would be the leaders of the community in name as well as function.

It was a bit lonely, at times. Wen Qing decided to speak up. “I could use an ear, Granny.”

“Of course, Qing-guniang.”

Wen Qing watched A-Yuan for a moment as he yanked Wei Wuxian around in a circle, playing some sort of spinning game. “That day in Yiling, when I came back with the baozi,” she started, “I was invited out again. I’m not sure I should accept.”

“Whyever not?”

“I’m sure you can guess.”

“I’m sure I could, but, Qing-guniang, I want to know why you’re hesitating.”

“Granny, please. We’re hunted people, living on a cursed mountain. Is that not reason enough?” Wen Qing poked at the radishes she’d been weeding. “You know I’m not the sort to caper around town when there’s work to be done.”

“I know that, Qing-guniang. But it’s all right to be a little spoiled, sometimes.”

Wen Qing blinked at her. “Granny?”

“You work hard for us. We all see it. We’re not going to begrudge you a day in town. And you deserve a chance to step out with a special friend-“

“It’s not like that,” Wen Qing cut her off. “He was kind to me, and invited me out to lunch.”

“Who did?” one of the aunties said as she plunked down next to Granny. “Does our Qing-guniang have a gentleman friend?!”

“Absolutely not! And keep your voice down. The last thing I need is Wei Wuxian to overhear this nonsense.” Wen Qing huffed and yanked up a weed like it offended her personally. Wei Wuxian would certainly remember that she’d seen his sect brother that day, and might connect the dots. She did not want to deal with that at all. He’d pestered her enough already.

“Don’t be like that! We’d be overjoyed if you had a sweetheart,” Aunty assured her. “You’re young and lovely, now’s the time to have a flirtation or three!”

“She’s worried about being spoiled,” Granny said solemnly.

“She should absolutely let herself be spoiled some! Right?” Aunty and Granny nodded at each other. “Who knows, you could make a good connection. If it gets you off this mountain-“

“I’m not getting off the mountain without the rest of you,” Wen Qing snapped. “He was kind enough to buy A-Yuan those baozi and I want to say thank you properly. And I have other friends just two towns over.”

The line about friends was complete falsehood and she felt terrible about it, but the conversation was getting out of hand. How dare they suggest she leave them behind!

“Fine, fine,” Aunty said, waving her hands. “But I still think you could stand to be a little selfish once in a while.”

“We’ll be all right for a day,” Granny assured her. Wen Qing frowned, but Wei Wuxian was looking a bit green from his spinning game with A-Yuan (really! Sometimes it was like having two toddlers), so she had bigger things to worry about.

~*~

And that was how she found herself walking side by side with Jiang Wanyin in the marketplace of trading town on the outskirts of Yunmeng territory. She was wearing an outfit he’d bought her so they would look more like normal people- not in red, but a pastel pink-orange, feminine and flowy and inoffensive. Her clothes from the Burial Mounds were stuffed in her qiankun pouch and she would have to change back into them eventually, but for now, she was enjoying the feel of soft, expensive clothes again, even if she did barely recognize herself in the dainty lady she saw in the mirror.

Jiang Wanyin had dressed down, just a little, and wore more blue than purple. With Sandu and his clarity bell tucked in his qiankun pouch, the only mark of his status was Zidian, which he would not part with.

“I’m not ashamed of who I am, just so we’re clear,” he told her in a low voice. “But I thought I should dress differently, as well.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she said.

“You didn’t have to.”

Despite his sullen words, his posture was as relaxed as she’d ever seen it. He walked close to her, and every once in a while his knuckles would brush her arm. Wen Qing wasn’t used to this closeness. Sure, she hugged A-Yuan and A-Ning as often as she could, although A-Ning was a grown man now so it wasn’t that often. But there was a normal, respectful distance between everyone else and she wasn’t used to hovering.

It was handy, though. When she stopped to admire something in the marketplace, he was right there with the silver to pay for it. All she had to do was indicate if she wanted it enough to buy. She was still frugal, but so far, she had half-filled her qiankun pouch, all of it for her family. Even the single book she got for herself was practical, a light volume on pediatric medicine so she could keep up with her practice and take care of A-Yuan.

“You can get something for yourself, you know,” Jiang Wanyin said at one point. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re spending my money on.”

“I have to take care of everyone.”

“What about taking care of yourself?”

Wen Qing stopped and looked at him, stopping just short of a glare. “I have never just ‘taken care of myself’,” she said. “There is always someone who relies on me. Many someones. I’m sure a sect leader understands.”

Jiang Wanyin glared back at her and said, “Of course I do. But if you want something for yourself, say it.” And like he did so often during the day, he pressed his lips into a thin line and glanced away from her, as if there was more he wanted to say but didn’t dare.

(He would never tell anyone, but he was thinking that a beautiful lady like Wen Qing should have everything he could give her, like Jin Zixuan gave Jiang Yanli, and he was appalled at himself for taking the Peacock as his role model in romance. Such traitorous thoughts! He would never live it down if Wei Wuxian found out.)

His offer was generous and it made Wen Qing wary of those unsaid words. People who were this giving always wanted something in return, and she already knew he wanted her and only her. But her family needed things and he wasn’t terrible company, overall, sometimes. And she wasn’t completely adverse to his kisses. Just… cautious.

That was why she allowed the hand brushing her arm, and how he came in close when they looked at wares together. She allowed it when he put a hand on her back at the hairpin stall and leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

“You turned down the earrings,” he said with a pout (not that she would call it that to his face). “You could at least take this hairpin.”

“You do know that I won’t keep jewelry? I can’t. The price that would fetch will clothe A-Yuan for the entire winter.”

He scowled, but his expression surprisingly softened when she said A-Yuan’s name. “So be it,” he said. “I want to see you in it now.” And he bought it anyway.

(He was thinking of his sister, four months along at this point and barely showing. He thought of how Wen Yuan had once been that tiny and it really wasn’t so bad if an affectionate kid like him got warm clothes on account of his money. And he thought that if he could love one grown Wen already deemed complicit, he could learn to tolerate one child Wen who was surely innocent. But he said none of this, either, and Wen Qing would never know.)

Jiang Wanyin’s hands were gentle as he exchanged her simple hair ribbon for the silver piece he purchased, as if he was doing something normal and not scandalously romantic. The salesman merely smiled and held up a small mirror for her.

“I think you’ll be pleased, madam,” he said.

“I am,” she admitted. “Thank you, Jia-“ She paused, uncertain of how to address Jiang Wanyin. Was he trying to actively hide his identity? They weren’t in Yunmeng itself but it was still in his territory and ‘Jiang-zongzhu’ would be too telling. But she wasn’t close enough to call him familiarly.

The issue was solved for the moment by Jiang Wanyin taking her arm and walking toward the teahouse, but she would have to find out before they did this again.

‘What am I thinking? When even is this? Is there even any “this” to do again?’ Part of her hoped so.

She let him buy her tea and cakes (again), and Wen Qing bought some sweets that would last to bring home. As they were walking afterwards, she put a hand on Jiang Wanyin’s arm.

“What should I call you, when we’re out like this?” she said, voice low.

“Call me? Why wouldn’t you use my name- Oh. Right.”

She wanted to give him a stern look because it was very foolish to forget about their position, even dangerous. But he was so flustered, so young, that a tiny chuckle slipped out before she could put on her annoyed older sister face.

“Are you laughing?” he hissed.

“Yes.” She wasn’t going to sooth his damaged pride over something so small. If Jiang Wanyin couldn’t take such a tiny joke, she would forget all about his kisses and strong arms, and go back to her radishes.

But while he was annoyed, he wasn’t angry. It was a definite improvement in his temper. “Excuse me if I pretended the world didn’t exist for a few hours. Maybe I wanted to enjoy being on a walk with a beautiful woman before I go back to all the old men trying to tell me how to run my sect.”

“So you’re using me to escape? Zongzhu, I am surprised at you.”

He swallowed roughly when she called him ‘zongzhu’. Interesting. Getting a reaction with a single word was somehow powerful, and Wen Qing suddenly understood why the young ladies at Nightless City would bat their eyelashes when calling young men ‘gongzi.’ Not that she intended to do so! But the thought that even she could produce results with such a method was fascinating.

She forgot all about being cautious.

He led her to a cloth merchant, barely speaking. There was color in his cheeks, just a hint, and she knew it was from high emotion and not sun exposure. He leaned closer and whispered, “I know you’re going to be practical, but I want you to get something for yourself here, too.”

It was her turn to flush. When he spoke, his lips were close and his breath tickled her ear. She wondered if- hoped that- he would steal a kiss.

So it was only a small surprise when he pressed her against a wall later, just around a corner, barely hidden from view. From the look in his eyes, he had also been thinking about kisses.

“Come back to the inn with me,” he said in a breathy whisper.

His face was close to hers, and she almost closed the distance between them.

It would be so easy to let it happen. But it was much like trading herself for the things he’d bought her and while she had entertained the possibility, entertaining it and doing it were completely different.

He seemed to sense her hesitation. “It doesn’t have to be for… anything in particular,” he said. “But I’m not ready to let you go. I mean, it’s getting late, after all. You might as well stay.”

There he was again, that boy she’d met in Cloud Recesses, who smiled at kindness and looked at her like things were uncomplicated. For a moment, he showed through Jiang-zongzhu’s older, more jaded features.

‘You helped make him into this man,’ she reminded herself. ‘You could stay, and maybe he could be that boy again for a little while.’

It was a foolish thought, and she scolded herself for it, but she still nodded and told him, “Very well.”

~*~

They ate a light meal, back in his single room at the inn. He didn’t get a second room for her; as he told the innkeeper, they only needed one room, thank you, and let the man think what he would about it.

Once they were alone, she sent a message to Uncle Four, the old Wen method that carried her writing in flames. It only held limited characters so she was frugal with her words. “With a Friend, Staying Overnight, Back around Lunch.” Jiang Wanyin likewise sent a message by his own means to his current head disciple, Wei Wuxian’s replacement (a temporary stand-in, if Wen Qing could devise a way to get Wei Wuxian home, but for now, he was a replacement).

It was a nice enough room. Wen Qing sat at a little table, and Jiang Wanyin knelt at the desk.

“Do you have work to take care of?” she asked regarding his seat, just to make conversation.

“What? No, I didn’t bring any. I just…” He glanced at the bed. “It didn’t seem appropriate to sit elsewhere.”

After those kisses ten days before, he couldn’t even look at a piece of furniture without blushing! At least she knew her shy gongzi from Cloud Recesses hadn’t turned into a cad.

(When had he become ‘her’ gongzi? Jiang Wanyin had never been hers, she reminded herself.)

It was Jiang Wanyin’s turn to make stilted conversation. “Did you get enough? Things, I mean. At the market.”

“Wei Wuxian will probably want more paper, but besides that, I think so.” She wouldn’t admit it even if she hadn’t. She was pushing it already, allowing him to buy a few cosmetics for the aunties and that hairpin she still wore. Any other frivolities, and she feared Jiang Wanyin would rightly close his purse despite his earlier prompting.

“Hmph. He would need paper. Still designing useless talismans?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘useless,’ at least with the last batch. He’s started to make some household helpers, to compete with the Yiling Patriarch imitators.”

“I ran into one of those recently. What a bunch of stupidity! Doesn’t he do anything about them?” Jiang Wanyin snapped.

“What can he do? There will always be unscrupulous sorts, trying to cash in on a famous name. Just look at all the questionable hangers-on the sects get when they recruit.”

He scowled, but his rant subsided before it really began. “I’ve managed to weed out any truly unsuitable disciples, but yes. I know what you mean.”

She smiled slightly and came to kneel at his side. “Don’t worry so much,” she said as she laid a hand on his arm. “Wei Wuxian can handle the imitation patriarchs. Hopefully-“ She stopped herself. Did she really want to tell Jiang Wanyin that she wanted to make Wei Wuxian leave someday, to go home to Lotus Pier? He might take it as being ungrateful to his sacrifice. He might think she was politically naïve, which was less important but still galling. Or, worst of all, he might push her to do it before Wei Wuxian was ready.

But Jiang Wanyin didn’t seem to notice. His eyes flicked to her hand. Innocent as it was, he still tensed, his lips parting.

“Wen-guniang, I-“

She started to pull her hand away but he struck, quick as a snake, and grabbed her wrist. “Stay,” he commanded.

They stared at each other. Wen Qing wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She wasn’t even sure what she was thinking, her mind was such a riot. But she didn’t pull away, and after a moment, Jiang Wanyin calmed and loosened his hold on her wrist, shifting his grip. He brought her hand up to his lips until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her fingers. He looked like he wanted to say something, like the words were gathering on his tongue, damming up in a multitude, but all that came out was, “I want you.”

She should be appalled; he said it like a demand, and yes, she had entertained the notion that he would expect physical affections for the easy entry into his purse. She even thought about allowing it, remembering his kisses and aching for more.

Here, with that gentle touch at odds with his commands, his eyes dark with want but tense with- Fear? Hope? Was he waiting for rejection?

“Jiang-zongzhu,” she said, and he deflated. She slipped her hand from his, but before his shoulders could slump any more, she touched his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, hiding his expression with closed eyes. His hands fell to his lap and closed into fists. “I know you’re here for your family and Wei Wuxian,” he said before he opened his eyes again. “I’m not a fool.”

“I never said you were,” she said, tilting his face back toward her. “But I have it on good authority that it’s okay to be a little foolish, sometimes.”

“That’s not what-“

She silenced him with a kiss.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, surprised at her own audacity. But he responded eagerly, putting his hands on her arms, loose and not quite gentle, holding her close without trapping her. She wondered if he was leaving her a way to escape on purpose. And she wondered if he’d kissed someone before her; he tilted his head to keep their noses from bumping and although his kisses were a bit toothy, he didn’t clack their teeth together at all. He never had.

There was something to be said for an experienced lover. If he knew what he was doing, she could trust --well, maybe not trust, trust was dangerous-- but at least ‘allow’ him to take care of her.

Part of her was angry that he knew what he was doing. How dare he indulge himself while her family was scraping together a living from a mountain of bones! How dare he find someone else when he had been so shy with her, when she had nothing but the memory of a promise he shouldn’t have made at all!

“Is it foolish of me to ask for that again?” he said in the silence, and she was snapped back from the building sparks of her anger. Every time she started getting angry with him, he showed her that the young man from Cloud Recesses wasn’t quite gone from inside him. He was merely hiding, hesitant and unsure beneath the façade of the Sect Leader.

She was never going to be free of him, at this rate. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

“It’s not,” she said. He let out a small, choked noise- surprise, relief, desire, all warring in him- and swept her into his arms. But instead of kissing her again, he held her in a crushing embrace. She couldn’t reach his lips, couldn’t give him the kiss he just requested. So she laid her head on his shoulder, and waited.

“I want to kiss you,” he finally said, still holding her. “I want to do things that aren’t proper, things I should be ashamed of.”

She ran a hand over his chest. His idea of dressing down was still very fine, and her fingertips glided over the cloth.

“I would let you,” she said after a pause, decision made. “I have no reason to hold onto propriety, and you’ve been good to my family.”

“Not as good as Wei Wuxian.”

Her hand stilled. “Wei Wuxian… I was the one who asked him for help. Don’t blame him, Jiang-zongzhu.”

“My family is dead because of him.” He shifted, pushed her to arms-length, but didn’t let her go.

The mood was, of course, ruined, but Jiang Wanyin needed to hear something about this besides his own festering thoughts. So Wen Qing spoke.

“You don’t really believe that.”

“What I believe is irrelevant-“

She cut him off. “It is relevant. Because it’s not true. The Chief Cultivator was aiming for Yunmeng before Wen Chao ever encountered Wei Wuxian. You know that. At first, because he was looking for the Yin Iron hidden in the south. But also because it was only a matter of time before he went after all the Great Sects.”

“I do know that!”

“Then stop blaming Wei Wuxian! It was no one’s fault except those who organized it and those carried it out. And they are dead. You killed many of them yourself, Sandu Shengshou.”

He grimaced like his title was a curse. Good. She meant it to be.

“I know,” he said. His voice was low and soft, chastised. “But I can’t help but be angry. He ran off, abandoned his promise to me, threw away what little good name he had left. And… he’s helping you but my hands are tied.” The words dragged out of him like they were painful.

“I know,” she echoed.

“I wish the people we were protecting were the same. It would be easier if it were all of us, together.”

“I know.”

“I’m not ungrateful. But I have people depending on me, too.”

“I know,” she said again. She put a hand over his. “I’m also not ungrateful. I know what you’re doing, buying all these things for me.”

He scoffed at himself. “A lackluster effort from a lackluster man.”

“Jiang Wanyin, what do you want from me?” She didn’t bother to keep the frustration from her voice. “Why are we here today? Is it me you want, or do you just want your brother back?”

“Why talk about want?” he scoffed. “What if I want both? What if I want Wei Wuxian to make a damned accounting for himself, and I want you to be my wi- my woman?”

Even though she was so, so frustrated with him, her heart pounded when he stumbled over the words. ‘He wanted to say ‘wife.’ I am still worth something in his heart.’

He met her eyes then, and held them. “I want him back, but I also want you. If you didn’t have all those others, I could protect you.”

“If I didn’t have those others, I wouldn’t want to be protected.” She surprised herself at how true that was. If she lost A-Ning, she would walk up the steps of Carp Tower herself just to end it.

Again, he looked like he was thinking more than he was saying, his lips once more in a tight line.

(It was her loyalty that made him ache, after all. Though it was the reason they were forced apart before they really came together, her devotion to her family was what he admired in her.)

But all he said was, “I’m going to kiss you again.”

She shouldn’t allow it. He thought too much, understood too little, and said the wrong things. He was infuriating. And she had secrets that would hurt him. But he still looked at her like she was precious and lovely, and that was a heady thing.

He pulled her close and followed through with his words, surprisingly light when he had held her so tightly earlier. His hand cupped her cheek as he kissed her again. His lips and palm were warm, but Zidian’s ring was cold. Not sparking, but startlingly chill for something that had been on his hand all day. She shivered against his body. He took it for encouragement and she couldn’t say it wasn’t, not when his kisses were growing more confident and igniting such heat in her.

“Heaven help me, I want you…” He trailed off, his eyes distant. “I’m not sure how I’m going to face my ancestors again. Mother would be disappointed.”

She could understand his distraction. Family was important, after all. Aunty and Granny at least would forgive her an indiscretion or two, if they ever even found out, but she knew hardly anything of the Jiang. She couldn’t help asking, “And your father?”

Jiang Wanyin barked a laugh, and it was the ugliest sound she’d heard him make since he’d screamed at her in Yiling, when his core and heart were both shattered.

“Father would probably tell me Wei Wuxian understood our motto better, and he’d be right. I may be leading the sect but he was the one who lived its principles. I’m just making do with his leavings.”

“I had better not be included in that,” Wen Qing snapped, suddenly perturbed. As if she would let just anyone kiss her like that!

“Are you saying you’re not his?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Wei Wuxian saved us, but I don’t make a habit of offering myself up like this. Did you not listen-“

Her words were lost in another kiss, hungry and possessive, like the fact that Wei Wuxian never touched her made her even more desirable.

‘I definitely should not be doing this,’ she thought. ‘Jiang Wanyin clearly has more issues than any one human should contain.’ But he stood and swept her up in his arms and carried her across the room. It was thrilling- annoying, to be hauled around like a sack of grain, but thrilling to feel his powerful arms holding her aloft. She dug her fingers into the fabric covering his shoulder as he walked, and didn’t loosen her hold when he set her down on the bed.

He wanted her. After everything, he felt helpless that he wasn’t the one to save her, angry that she chose someone else. And those were dangerous things. She had seen the perils of a jealous man before. One didn’t live anywhere near Wen Chao without seeing it. And Jiang Wanyin desired her, which was just as perilous. Knowing she could invoke such feelings, that she was wanted simply for being her... It made her ache to get closer to him. But in the morning, he would have to leave, and who knew if he’d find a way to see her again. She’d be back to furtive might-have-been fantasies in her corner of their rickety shelter on a hill of bones.

She wanted to accept everything he gave her today. ‘I am going to be selfish, Granny. Forgive me.’

“I am not Wei Wuxian’s, but I can’t be yours past tonight,” she told Jiang Wanyin.

“I would take whatever you give me,” he said, and she was struck by how similar that was to her own thoughts. She ran a hand from his shoulder, up his neck, down his jawline, drawing him closer with her touch. He still knelt next to the bed rather than on it, the same spot he’d ended in when he laid her down, and when he kissed her again, the only part that touched were their lips and her fingers on his jaw.

He shifted to sit beside her and kissed her again, his hair spilling over his shoulder and hiding the last bits of sunlight that gleamed golden through the window. She put her arms around him and pulled him close. The sun was no longer for her. She hid behind the curtain of his hair and coaxed him into another of his searing kisses.

This time his hand wandered over her body. His touch was heavy, like he was determined to feel her entire being through her clothes. She found she didn’t mind. She wasn’t delicate; that filmy gown he’d chosen wasn’t her. He moaned against her mouth when he reached her breast and that was very nice. Gratifying, to know that she could pull more pleasant sounds from him after he’d bared some of his ugly side to her just moments earlier.

She wanted to hear more.

Wen Qing fumbled with one hand, catching his wrist before he moved farther away, and brought his hand back to her chest. “A little nicer, Jiang Wanyin,” she said, and oh, his moan at that was sweet! He obediently massaged her breast, pushing aside the top layer of her clothes and exploring the feel of her in his hand.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“It is. Your belt is digging into me, though.”

He hurriedly undid the offending belt and tossed it to the floor. He paused above her, looking down like he was drinking her in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and leaned over to give her a brief kiss, far more gentle than any of the ones before. “Can I…?” His fingers hovered over her sash.

“Only if you take down my hair, too,” she said. His lips parted, his cheeks pinkened, as if touching her hair was more intimate than her breasts, even though he’d put the hairpin there himself, in public.

‘Ah, but hair is something he would do with a wife, and a wife only,’ she thought, banishing the thought of Jiang Wanyin in a lover’s arms. It made her heart clench painfully. She sat up to give him access to her hair. ‘You were so determined to have him, Wen Qing, that you forgot he knew how to kiss before you,’ she scolded herself as he shifted behind her, his face still bewildered as it had been on Biling Lake. ‘Will you back out now, now that he might know more?’

He took the pin from her hair and set it safely aside. His hands went to her shoulders- and stayed there. He paused for such a long time, she started to turn to check on him, any number of situations running through her head, ranging from frivolous to dire. Was he having second thoughts? Did he notice her hair oil wasn’t as luscious and expensive as before? Was Wei Wuxian’s golden core giving out on him? Did she have something embarrassing like a hairy mole on her neck that she didn’t know about? Were her ears too big and unsexy? Had he finally made the connection between ‘Baoshan Sanren’ and her? Was he thinking about his mother again?!

But just as she was turning, he pressed his lips to the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, shoulderblades to his chest. “I want whatever you will share with me,” he said, and the low hum of his voice sent a shiver through her. “I want you so much, right now. But I arranged for a hot bath and they’ll be up with the supplies any moment now.”

She stopped, tilted her head just a little so she could peek up at him behind her. Something strained and tense in her snapped. Her first laugh was a hard cough, like her body wasn’t used to making the sound. Perhaps it wasn’t- she wasn’t much prone to laughing in the best of times. But the chuckles bubbled up nonetheless, unbidden, a tiny bit hysterical- but freeing. Jiang Wanyin made a gruff noise behind her and she leaned back, setting a hand on his arm.

“A bath,” she tried to get out in her laughter. Her shoulders shook against him and tears welled in her eyes from the abrupt, overwhelming emotion. “You were still, for so long, I worried. But, just a bath!”

There was a short sound from him in her ear as he choked back an involuntary laugh of his own. “That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”

“Humans are ridiculous, Jiang Wanyin,” she said “Here I was, worried you didn’t like my ears and were going to leave, and all you did was remember the bath.”

“Your ears are fine,” he snapped, as if insulted by the suggestion he could consider them otherwise. She chuckled again and dabbed at her wet eyes, almost in control of herself, and nestled back against him. And there she stayed, tucked against his chest and his lower dantian and even more of him she ached to touch, until their bath was filled.

Next Chapter

#the untamed #chen qing ling #chengqing #jiang cheng/wen qing #wen qing #jiang cheng #My writing #apologies for the long author's notes again #but it couldn't be helped

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just-jordie-things · 4 years ago

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The Night We Met - John B Routledge

word count: 12,948 warnings: swearing summary: John B falls for a girl that’s visiting the obx for the summer, but unbeknownst to him she isn’t a Touron, she’s a Kook in disguise. (a/n): so I'm writing for OBX now :)) enjoy (also yes I'm aware I've written a fic with this song before leave me alone) ___

[ i’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again, take me back to the night we met ]

John B could recognize someone from the OBX from a mile away. With one glance, he’d know their name and status. But the people from the island made it easy. Kooks stood out like a sore thumb, especially when they were on The Cut.

And when it came to the Tourons, well, they tended to out themselves. They just always wore something with Outer Banks printed on it. It made him laugh.

But then there was this girl, a girl he knows he’s never seen before because he definitely would have remembered her.

She was pretty, she was beyond pretty, she glowed even in the dim lighting on the coastline. And despite being new, because John B had convinced himself she had to be new to the island, she was laughing and talking with a couple of Tourons like she’d belonged here.

He couldn’t tell if she was a Touron herself, she wasn’t in typical tourist attire. She was in a pair of shorts and a bikini top covered with a short sleeved button down that she left unbuttoned. It suited her.

“Hey bud, you trying to waste our beer?” Pope called, and the clap of his hand on John B’s shoulder shook him from his haze.

It was then that he realized he’d been pouring himself a drink, and when the cup in his hand was full, he kept on pouring, too distracted to notice the beer spilling out over the cup and all over his hand.

“Oh, shit” He muttered, cutting off the flow of the keg right away, and bringing the cup to his lips to take a couple of long drinks.

“Are you giving googly eyes to Tourons?” Pope asked with a chuckle, following his friend’s line of sight to see who he was staring at so intensely. “I thought you were done with the fuck and go stuff”

“Don’t call it that” John B said in a slight gasp after drinking as much beer as he could.

“That’s what JJ calls it,” Pope shrugged. “So, which one do you like?” He asked, looking over to the small group again. “The blonde? She’s kinda cute I guess. I’m not sure that wearing socks and sandals on the beach is a very redeeming quality though”

“No,” John B rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t making googly eyes, I zoned out”

“Right. But really though, which one is it?”

John B just shook his head, deciding it was better to ignore Pope until he went away or gave up and changed the subject.

He took another drink of his beer, and cast a quick glance to the mystery girl again. When he found that her eyes were already focused on him, he almost choked, but recovered and swallowed thickly, and lowered his cup.

She must have seen the way his shoulders had shot upwards at the awkward cough, because she was laughing now.

“Her?” Pope asked, nudging John B’s side with his elbow a bit excessively.

“Shut up,” John B muttered back, praying to God that the cute new girl didn’t see. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean anything!”

“What the hell? It means everything, it’s been forever since you’ve had a thing for a girl! For anyone!”

Pope was rambling, as he did when he got excited, and even though it was embarrassing, John B couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t wrong, after all.

“Is she a Pogue?” Pope asked, eyeing the girl that was chatting with the Tourons again. “She can’t be a Kook, can she? Maybe she’s a Touron too, that kinda sucks-”

“You do realize I haven’t spoken a word to her, right?” John B reminded with a chuckle. “I don’t even know her name”

He starts to fill his empty cup with more beer, because there’s no way he’ll make it through a whole night of Pope’s wingman-esque pestering without a buzz.

“Well you should ask her” Pope says with a shrug.

“Yeah, because I love walking up to pretty strangers and asking-”

“Or you could just ask now, because she’s coming up to you”

“What-?”

His head shoots up and there she is, walking right up to him with a sweet looking smile and her red solo cup in hand.

She’s even prettier up close.

Pope’s elbow digs into John B’s ribs again, and he realizes she’s been standing in front of him for a solid three seconds, just long enough that the silence in the air is awkward. “Hi”

John B completely freezes. Usually he’s fine at casual conversation. A how are you? Maybe even where are you visiting from? Or at least asking if they want beer, seeing as he’s manning the keg.

But all he can muster right now is a hi.

“Hi,” The girl responds, laughing quietly, and it feels like she’s trying not to laugh more. “Um, could I get a refill?” She asked, holding her empty cup before him.

“Oh! Yeah! For sure!” John B responds, shaking his head to get out of his dumbfounded stupor.

Her smile widens as he takes her cup and presses his thumb on the noz.

Usually his confidence is through the roof, but right now he feels like he has to take in a deep breath before asking her the most basic of questions.

“Did you just move to the island? I feel like I haven’t seen you around before”

Her eyes meet his and she opens her mouth to speak, but it takes her a second to collect her thoughts before she gives him an answer.

“No, I’m a tourist,” She says, but she seems unsure. “My, uh, family thought it’d be a good place to spend the summer, so…”

She shrugs, not knowing what else to tell him.

“Oh, alright” John B nods, a bit disappointed, and she could tell.

“What?” She questions, her brow raising in curiosity.

“You just don’t look like other tourists,” He tells her, “You look like, I don’t know, you’re from around here”

“Is that a compliment?” She asked with a nervous laugh, and John B laughed with her, nodding his head.

“Yeah, absolutely,” He says, and hands her back her cup. “Well, either way, welcome to the Outer Banks”

“Thanks…” She replied with a smile, fishing for his name.

“I’m John B” He extended his hand with the introduction, and she gladly shook it.

“I’m (y/n),” She replied. “Thanks for the beer”

Did you just thank him twice? She thought to herself and mentally face palmed, but he didn’t seem phased by it.

“Yeah, no problem, it’s a party,” He replied. “But… I’ll see you around?”

Her grin nearly stretched ear to ear at his hopeful question.

“Maybe you will” She said cheekily, before turning and heading back to the group of Tourons she’d previously been mingling with.

Pope, who had been standing next to John B for the entire interaction, silently watching the pair shyly introduce themselves, whacked his friend hard on the arm.

“Dude! She was fucking cute!” He told John B maybe too loudly.

But no one around them paid them any mind.

“You should go back and talk to her!”

“I can’t, I gotta keep an eye on the keg” John B said, but his eyes drifted back to the girl. (y/n).

“I’ll watch it, you should go flirt with her some more. Or at least, start flirting with her, your game wasn’t that great to be honest”

John B was the one to nudge Pope in the ribs this time.

“Last time I left you in charge of the keg, everyone nearly got alcohol poisoning. You know half the job is to make sure no one drinks too much, right?”

“Whatever,” Pope rolled his eyes. “Everyone had a good time”

“JJ passed out in the sand”

Pope pursed his lips, making a pssh sound while shaking his head.

“It’s JJ. He lived. And don’t be shy dude, just go up to her and ask for her number, it’s not like you haven’t done it before”

“Yeah, but, she’s a Touron” John B shrugged, like that was reason enough to just drop it completely.

“Fine. I’m just saying, she could have been the greatest love story of your life”

Pope helped himself to another cup of beer before leaving John B alone, and heading off to find Kiara.

John B rolled his eyes good naturedly. Pope was always so dramatic about these things. But ever since him and Kie had been dancing that line between friendship and relationship, he’d been more romantic than usual.

Glancing back to (y/n) one last time, he smiled as he watched her double over in laughter at something one of the Tourons must have said.

Pope was just being his drunken romantic dramatic self. She was just a cute girl on the island for the summer. That was it. ___

[ and then i can tell myself what the hell i’m supposed to do // and then i can tell myself not to ride along with you ]

“John B?”

He’d just gotten off of Ward Cameron’s yacht, ready to go back to the Chateau and collapse from exhaustion when his name was called.

And of course it was her, the pretty Touron from the beach party last weekend. Of all the people that could catch him after scrubbing an entire Kook boat top to bottom, it had to be her.

“I thought I recognized you,” She said with a smile, approaching him more confidently. “This your boat?”

“Oh, god no,” He laughed and shook his head. “I work for a Southsider, it’s his. I just have the luxury of tending to it”

(y/n) nodded, glancing back up at him.

She was in a swimsuit and a lacy kimono that almost touched the ground.

“Going for a swim?” John B asked, desperate to have more than a passing casual conversation with her.

“Well, my parents wanted to go boating, but decided to change gears and go without me,” She said. “So I was just going to go down to the beach” She nodded off behind him in the direction she was heading.

John B’s brows furrowed.

“There’s a better beach up that way,” He gestured behind her. “You’re heading to the Pogue beach”

“Yeah, that, um, was the plan,” She nervously explained. “The Kook beach is always crowded and the people there…” She didn’t finish her statement, just laughed quietly.

He couldn’t explain it, but that brought a smile to his face.

“So you’ve been informed on the class system on the island already, huh?” He asked.

“Kinda hard not to hear about it” (y/n) answered.

“Well, since you’re clearly so wise and have chosen the Pogue beach, I’ll escort you there” He offered.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I gotta head back that way anyways, so it’s no problem,” He said. “That is if you don’t mind?”

(y/n) grinned another one of her wide grins, nodding her head enthusiastically.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit” She told him.

The pair ended up talking through the entire walk towards the north side of the island. John B told her all about his father’s disappearance and all his wild theories about where he could be, and (y/n) seemed very into it. She offered him her own ideas and indulged him in even his craziest of ideas.

She definitely had a bright mind full of strange but creative views.

She was interesting to talk to, John B felt like he could walk and ask her strange questions all afternoon. She’d told him about her family, about how being an only child meant they went on a lot of vacations, hence her visit to the OBX. She told him her plans for the future, her dream college, her dream job, she even told him about a secret runaway plan she’d come up with when she was a kid, and how she still fantasizes about it.

“Why would you want to run away? You sound like you have it made” John B had laughed at her intricate plan.

“Freedom, John B, freedom,” She had replied, tilting her head back and basking in the sun as she daydreamed. “Being the only child means the attention is on me, constantly, and I don’t think I can spend the rest of my life living up to other people’s expectations of me, you know?”

John B nodded, smiling down at her. He completely understood.

“Well. If you’re going south, I’ve got a boat” He told her.

“You do?”

“Yeah, the HMS Pogue,” John B told her proudly. “But to be honest with you, I don’t think she’ll make it all the way to the Keys”

(y/n) laughed, and shrugged her shoulders.

“Thanks anyways”

It was no surprise for John B to find his group of friends already at the beach when he’d arrived with (y/n).

“John B!” JJ called out, throwing his hands in the air like they’d been waiting on his arrival. “Who’d ya bring?”

John B glanced nervously to (y/n) as they walked up the group, but swallowed his nerves and introduced her.

“Uh, this is (y/n),” He announced. “She’s visiting for the summer”

“A Touron, eh?” JJ smirked, and tipped his hat at the girl.

“That’s JJ, pay him no mind,” John B said to the girl at his side. “Actually, ignore him completely, you’ll be better off”

(y/n) giggled, but stuck her hand out to the blonde boy anyways.

“Nice to meet you”

JJ’s eyes flickered to John B out of confusion, but still shook her hand.

“How formal of you,” JJ laughed before dropping her hand. “You sure she’s not a kook, JB?”

“JJ, do you ever shut up?” The only girl in the group spoke, standing up from where she’d been sitting at the shore. “Definitely in your best interest to ignore him. It’s what I do. I’m Kiara by the way”

(y/n) smiled as the girl stuck her hand out, but when she went to shake it, she pulled her in and hugged her.

“And I’m a hugger” She added.

“I see that” (y/n) laughed.

“It’s just good to have another girl around,” Kiara explained, and turned to John B “Please tell me she’s hanging out with us today”

John B looked down at (y/n), who was hopefully giving him puppy dog eyes. He laughed.

“Yeah, if she’d be into that” He answered.

“I’d be very into that,” (y/n) corrected. “I;m dying for entertainment on this island. Your party was a week ago and I’ve been bored ever since”

“Let’s go fishing!” Called the one boy that hadn’t introduced himself to (y/n), but she recognized as John B’s friend from the party.

“Fishing? Really?” Kiara asked him, dumbfounded. “You have one chance at the perfect first impression on the new girl and you want to go fishing?”

She rolls her eyes as he shrugs lamely, staring at her as though asking what was wrong with his suggestion.

“That’s Pope, he’s the greatest and worst person you’ll ever meet” Kiara spoke.

(y/n) nodded, stifling a laugh at the grand introduction.

“Awe, come on Kie, you know you love me” Pope retorted, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind her.

“I wouldn’t mind if you went fishing,” (y/n) shrugged. “Any excuse to be on the water is good enough for me”

“Great!” Pope exclaimed, and before she knew it, John B’s friends were taking off down towards the docks.

“They’re a lot,” John B said, deciding to linger behind them as he walked with (y/n). “But they’re great, trust me”

“I can tell,” She replied kindly. “I like them”

John B smiles, feeling relief that his friends were up to her standards. Not that it should matter, but it did a little bit. Some part of him really wanted (y/n) to get along with his friends.

“Good” He said quietly. ___

[ i had all and then most of you, some and now known of you ]

John B was cute, (y/n) had decided that the night she met him. She’d been side eyeing him all night, watching as he topped off people’s beers and laughed and joked with quite a few. But she’d also noticed the difference between his interactions with Pogues and Tourons versus the Southside Kooks.

(y/n) had learned about the separation on the island not ten minutes after moving to the Southside a month or so ago. The neighbors had popped over to introduce themselves to her and her family, and the son had immediately told her about the classes, and about Kooks and Pogues.

She hadn’t cared much for some random rich kid’s input, and did her best to ignore him after he warned her not to go anywhere near The Cut.

You live on the Figure Eight. Be proud of your accomplishments. You’ll just make your family look bad if you start hanging around with scum like Pogues.

Despite brushing him off, the words had stuck with her. And she was reminded of them again when she’d met John B last weekend.

It wasn’t a good idea to lie, lying never worked, she’d seen enough movies and read enough stories to know that they not only didn’t work, but they completely backfired.

And as she lounged on the HMS Pogue and watched John B and JJ argue over where the best spot in the marsh to fish was, she just knew this would end in disaster if she didn’t come clean and tell them the truth.

But they hated Kooks, and she liked John B so much already, and she just wanted him to like her for her, not because of her status on the island. What did status have to do with anything important, anyways?

So she enjoyed her time with the group of Pogues as to it’s fullest. She got to know each of them as they played dumb games and drank and smoked while out on the water.

She learned that JJ had a habit of swiping things that weren’t his, but that he was a sociable and funny individual with a hard of gold. Even if he acted like a little shit sometimes.

And that Pope was into pathology, and that he was hoping to get a merit scholarship to go to school to study. He was an oddball, but he was genuine and it made him easily lovable. She also picked up on his not-so-minor crush on Kiara.

As for Kiara, she was surprised when she learned that she lived in the Figure Eight. But as soon as Kiara called herself a Kook, the boys shut it down, and explained that she was half Pogue half Kook, and that she renounced the Kook half of herself.

So as soon as (y/n’s) hopes were lifted for being accepted by the group as a Kook, they were quickly shot down.

“Alright, enough chatting,” JJ called, dropping the anchor at a spot that he and John B were finally able to agree upon. “It’s fishin’ time!”

While Pope and JJ excitedly got out their gear and baited their hooks, Kiara wandered off to watch them do their thing and distract them for the fun of it. Leaving (y/n) alone with John B at the back of the boat.

“Are you glad you went on vacation just to watch a couple of losers fish?” He’d asked when he sat down next to her, making her giggle.

“Surprisingly, yes,” (y/n) answered. “I’m glad to have met all of you”

He smiled at that, and her heart fluttered a bit in her chest.

She rested her arm on the side of the boat, her head in her hand as she gazed at him fondly. He may not have been able to read her expression, but he still felt warm under her stare.

“What?” He asked, and (y/n) shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know” She answered honestly, and finally dropped her gaze to her lap.Her fingers fiddled with the lacey material of her kimono, before she pulled the fabric around herself to better cover her exposed skin.

“Would you maybe want to throw a party with us?” John B asked suddenly, and her brows furrowed as she glanced back at him.

“Throw a party? Like together?” She asked, and he nodded back at her. “You just had one, do you usually party every weekend?”

“Well, no, but I thought, yaknow, it might be fun” He stammered over his words and shrugged lamely, but (y/n) found it endearing.

“Yeah, it would be fun,” She agreed. “Sure, then. When?”

“This weekend, Saturday night, I suppose,” John B suggested. “I’ll see if we can get a keg or two by then”

“Sounds good,” (y/n) said eagerly. “But what else do you do for fun around here?”

“Surf, smoke…” John B started to list the things him and his friends did for a good time, but his list quickly faltered. “I guess that’s it”

“Oh come on, there has to be a few hidden gems in the Outer Banks,” (y/n) pushed. “You can’t just surf and get high all the time, can you?”

“I think I just proved that I can” John B replied matter of factly.

(y/n) burst into giggles, which were contagious enough to have him laughing with her.

The other three at the front of the boat watched fondly as their friend tried his best to flirt with the new girl. They’d tried not to make it obvious that they were watching their every move, but they just had to watch.

“Do you think he’s gonna kiss her?” Pope whispered, watching as John B moved closer to (y/n).

“No. He doesn’t have the balls” JJ replied.

The trio held their breath as they watched, but John B didn’t make another move.

“They did just meet,” Kiara said. “Maybe he can’t tell that she likes him”

“How could he not?” Pope asked, gesturing to (y/n). “She’s literally batting her eyelashes at him- oh look!”

Kiara slapped a hand over his mouth before his loud voice could draw the pair’s attention away from each other.

John B had reached forward, his fingers brushing over her cheek, and Pope began to smack at Kiara’s arm enthusiastically.

But then he pulled away.

“You had an eyelash” He said.

JJ, Kiara, and Pope simultaneously rolled their eyes, and went back to fishing.

“He’ll never make a move,” JJ said. “She’s only here for the summer, and John B’s kinda a pussy”

“Don’t say that,” Kiara sighed. “I think he really likes her, and it’s obvious she likes him too. I think it could be something”

“Yeah right” JJ rolled his eyes.

But when he looked over at (y/n) and John B again, they were talking quietly, leaning towards one another, like they were trying to keep their conversation private. And he wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of thought Kiara could be right. ___

[ take me back to the night we met ]

When the sun started to set (y/n) let John B know that she needed to head back to her hotel, which was only a lie because she was staying at a hotel. She’d actually gotten a text from her mom saying dinner was in an hour and she was expected to be home by then.

John B had been an absolute gentleman and offered her a ride, which she just couldn’t turn down. So she gave him the directions to a hotel that was closest to her house, and let him drive her.

“You’re staying pretty far on the Southside,” He’d said when he parked outside of the hotel. “You’re not gonna go Kook on me, are you?”

She laughed, shaking her head at him.

“I’ll try my best not to,” She said softly. “But I don’t know, sounds pretty luxurious”

It’s quiet for a minute before she finally calls it and decides to get moving. Lord knows her parents would be furious if she missed dinner.

But she paused after getting out of the van, and looked back at him before she shut the door.

“I had a good time today,” She told him. It should have been an easy thing to say, but she found that her throat still tightened with anxiety waiting for his response. “I, um, would like to hang out again”

John B smiled back at her, nodding his head.

“Yeah,” He agreed. “You free tomorrow?”

She was surprised by the question, and that he wanted to see her again so soon, but she grinned back at him excitedly.

“Yeah”

“Want to come down to the Northside beach again?” He asked her hopefully. “JJ and I were gonna surf for a bit, but then we could like… get lunch? Or something?”

He was drumming his hands on the steering wheel, biting his tongue and holding his breath as he waited for her answer.

“Yeah,” She said again, nodding back at him. “Yeah that sounds… great”

“Okay then, wanna come by around eleven?”

“Works for me” She agreed, trying to bite down on her lip to keep from smiling too wide.

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow then” John B did a happy little drum roll on the steering wheel, making (y/n) laugh as she stepped back, about to close the car door.

“I’ll see you later, John B” She told him before shutting the door.

She gave him a wave for good measure, which he returned before driving off.

And then when he was far enough away, she began her trek home. The four block walk was worth it. ___

[ i don’t know what i’m supposed to do haunted by the ghost of you // oh take me back to the night we met ]

The rest of the week she spent most of her days with John B and his friends, but mostly just John B.

They got lunch almost every day, and would take their leftovers to the beach to feed seagulls and mess around. (y/n) would come by in the mornings and watch him surf with JJ and Pope, and even though she didn’t surf, she’d hang out on the sand and read or just watch John B the whole time.

It felt like every minute she spent with him she fell harder, to the point where she couldn’t even look at him without smiling and blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush.

They got close and knew almost everything about each other, even spent most of their alone time asking any random question they could just to get to know each other better.

Saturday rolled around, and the party they’d decided on throwing was kicking in full gear. Kooks Pogues and Tourons all showed up in the masses, eager for any party that had free beer.

She’d been chatting with a few Tourons- asking where they were from, revelling in the dream of living somewhere away from her. Even though her dream of running away had quickly changed over the course of one week- when John B had found her.

“I must say, you sure do know how to throw a hell of a party, Miss (y/l/n)” He told her in his best southern accent.

She quickly forgot about her small talk and turned to him, grinning brightly and raising her half-full red solo cup towards him.

“Well, Mister Routledge, don’t go givin’ me all the credit,” She replied in her own fake accent. “I happen to be co-throwing this lil’ shindig”

“Oh are you? Who should I be thankin’ then?” John B asked, dropping the accent, and pretending to look around. “Because you seem to be drinking alone”

“Well I’m not alone anymore,” She said sweetly. “Where ya been?”

“Around,” John B shrugged. “Actually just got back from making sure JJ didn’t pick a fight with Topper. He’s one of the Kooks that like to come around here just for trouble” He explained.

“Well, good thing we have big strong law enforcement like you around here, then” (y/n) teased, and stepped forward to poke at his chest before taking another sip of her drink.

She didn’t miss the way his cheeks flushed red, and decided to not step back again. She kind of liked the close proximity anyways.

“Very cute,” John B rolled his eyes, and (y/n) grins up at him. “How’ve you been doing? Hosting seems to suit you well” He nodded towards the group of Tourons that she’d been talking to.

His brow furrowed a bit to see a couple of the guys from the group still staring at her. But as soon as they caught sight of John B’s glare they collectively decided to hang out somewhere else on the beach.

“What was that?” (y/n) asked, about to turn to see what he’d been staring at, but John B was quick to switch subjects, putting a hand on her shoulder to direct her attention back to him.

“Want a refill?” He asked, nodding to her nearly empty cup.

“I’d love one” She said, and the sparkle in her eye made him forget about the stupid Touron boys.

“I’ve got better stuff than cheap beer inside, actually,” He suggested. “If you’d rather”

(y/n) eagerly nodded, and followed him up the beach and towards the Chateau. She liked the way his hand rested on the small of her back, guiding her to the place she’d been hanging out at all week.

“I’ve got a question for you” She declared when they went inside.

“Shoot” John B responded, digging through his cabinets in search of the rum he had to hide so JJ wouldn’t steal it.

(y/n) pulled herself up onto the counter, casually crossing her legs as she watched him pour her a small glass.

“How come you can’t stand Kooks so much?”

“That’s a pretty easy question, (y/n/n),” John B chuckled as he handed her the drink.

She looked down at the amber liquid, swirling it around in the glass before taking a sip.

“Look it’s not as bad as it sounds,” He explained. “But guys like Topper, and Rafe and Kelce, they’re just… they’re terribly privileged and horrible people”

(y/n) couldn’t argue with that. She’d heard enough stories and witnessed enough interactions to know that the Southside kids treated Pogues like shit. John B was right, it was an easy question.

“Um.. does that bother you?” He asked after a beat of silence passed, and she hadn’t looked up from her drink.

She finally glanced up, meeting his eyes, drowning in the way they looked like melted hershey bars. Maybe she was a little tipsy- but she just wanted to stare into them forever and ever. But right now he looked worried that he’d upset her, so she shook it out of her system.

“No,” She mumbled unintentionally. “No, of course not”

She was lying through her teeth, but it was easy when it came to the alcohol in her bloodstream and the fact that she earned a soft smile from John B.

“Okay, good” He said, mostly to himself.

“Topper’s a tool anyways. Maybe you should’ve let JJ get a few licks in” She added for good measure.

John B chuckled a bit, throwing back some of his own drink.

“Last time I let that happen, JJ pulled a gun on him”

“A gun?” (y/n) repeated, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

“Long story,” He chuckled quietly. “He was never gonna do anything, but still. He’s got a rep now”

(y/n) stared at him with wide eyes, and while she wanted nothing more than to sit here all night and listen to his long story, something told her it was for the best that she didn’t know just yet.

“That’s pretty insane,” She whispered, and downed the rest of her rum. “Thanks for the drink by the way”

“Yeah, ‘course” John B smiled back at her, and finished his own glass, before stepping forward to set it next to hers.

He was closer to her now, much closer, if he shuffled even a little bit forward he’d be standing between her legs. He was trying not to look directly at her, even though he could feel her eyes practically burning into his.

The music from the speakers outside was muffled and drowned out inside the house, sounding distant, like maybe they were underwater. The song playing had just hit the chorus and the crowd started cheering as they scream-sang along.

They had no idea that just up the path and inside, a real moment was happening.

When he finally mustered the courage to look at her, he felt warm to the stomach at the way her own eyes met his. There was something about the deep (y/e/c) of her eyes and the way her lips immediately turned upwards when his gaze fell on her that made him think he could maybe fall in love with this girl.

He had a feeling he could fall completely and hopelessly in love with her.

Her eyes flickered over his features, landing on his mouth and lingering there for maybe a moment too long, but she didn’t care. She just smiled wider and looked back up to his eyes.

In a moment of drunken confidence, she reached her hands out, and grabbed onto his, pulling him closer to her.

“I’m really glad I met you, John B,” She whispered softly, the words escaping her in a breath. “I can’t help but feel like you’re going to change my life”

They were bold words for a girl he’d only met a week ago, but they did make his heart do a somersault.

“Yeah, I get that feeling too” He whispered back, his eyes flitting back and forth between hers.

Her head was tilted back at a slight angle to properly look at him, and it would be so easy to wrap his hand around the back of her neck and pull her towards him until their lips met-

“Wanna go outside?” He asked before his imagination could take him too far away from the present.

Even if he did have the guts to make a move on her like that- he couldn’t do it while she was clearly intoxicated. It wouldn’t be right.

And besides, when and if he did make a move, he wanted it to mean something. Not just some drunk kiss at a party.

“Sure” (y/n) nodded, and John B helped her off the counter.

When he let go of her hand as they headed for the door, she reached out and took it again, walking quickly to be at his side.

He smiled down at her, realizing how much shorter she was than him, and how adorable it was.

His fingers slid between hers, locking their hands together more securely, and she rested her head against his arm as they walked.

They didn’t go far, and decided to just sit on the front steps of the porch and watch the party from a distance. Their hands still linked, and (y/n’s) head still on his arm.

“I think we’re pretty good at getting a party going,” (y/n) said before yawning. “Everyone seems to having such a good time”

John B nodded in agreement. Him and the Pogues had thrown some pretty killer parties before, but he had to admit, (y/n’s) ideas of setting up drinking games and having a spot for anyone to add their music to the playlist currently blasting were genius, they really kept the whole thing going later than they usually did.

“Yeah, we could do this every summer,” John B spoke, before shooting up and realizing that was probably too forward to offer. “I mean- if you want, if you come back next summer”

(y/n) lifted her head from his arm, staring at him with an expression he hadn’t seen on her before. He didn’t know that she was going through mental turmoil of the lie she was too deep into.

“Yeah,” She finally spoke up, nodding her head slightly. “That would be really cool, if you don’t get bored of me by the end of this summer”

What the hell was she going to do when summer ended? Why hadn’t she thought of that when she’d told him she was just a tourist? Was she just supposed to go off the grid and stay locked up in the house through the fall and winter? She truly hadn’t thought any of this through.

But she hadn’t planned on getting so close to John B.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his free hand coming to rest on her arm. He’d caught the way her brows had furrowed, and her eyes were a bit glossy.

“Yeah, sorry,” She shook her head, and as quickly as she looked like she could have burst into tears, she looked completely fine. “Actually, um, John B…”

She licked her lips, trying to find the right thing to say. She had to come clean. The longer she waited and continued to lie, the worse it would be. She couldn’t keep decieving him and getting away with it.

It had only been a week, but she just knew there was something between them. Something genuine and powerful- she was convinced she could fall in love with this boy.

But when she looked up at him, she just drowned in those warm and kind brown eyes, and all thoughts of the lie she was caught in went out the window, and she was swarmed with warm, butterfly-ish feelings.

“I didn’t plan on you,” She murmured.

He seemed a little confused by her wording, but the anxiety he had when she paused washed away.

“I… I really didn’t plan on meeting someone like you- or meeting anyone at all, actually,” She admitted, still whispering.

They were the only two people around, but she couldn’t ring herself to speak at a normal volume.

“I just… I just really like you…” She finally confessed, rolling her lips together as she stared at him and waited for him to say something.

John B opened his mouth, a smile spreading across his lips, but he was at a loss of words.

“And I just don’t want to fuck this up” She added in an even lower murmur.

He shook his head at her, a soft laugh escaping him and his hand squeezed hers.

“You couldn’t possibly do that,” He told her, which was sweet, but it wasn’t all that reassuring. “I really like you too”

“You do?” She whispered out like she was surprised, and he chuckled, nodding his head.

“Yeah,” He confirmed. “And I’d really like to kiss you,”

She grinned back at him, leaning just an inch closer to him.

“But I won’t” He finished, and laughed again at the way her features screwed into confusion.

“What? Why not?” She asked.

“Because, I really like you and I really think that we um… we could be something,” He told her. “And I don’t want our first kiss to be on a drunk whim, I want it to be for real”

The corner of (y/n’s) lips turned upwards at the sweet sentiment. John B truly was a gentleman and a romantic at heart.

“That sounds nice,” She murmured. “But fuck that”

And without any other warning, she let go of his hand, and slid her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him towards her and planting her lips on his.

Despite his romantic gesture of a speech, he gave up on it completely, reaching for her hips and pulling her closer against him as he kissed her back.

(y/n) smiled against his lips, all worries leaving her mind as her free hand cupped his cheek, meeting his rum coated lips repeatedly until she kissed the flavor away.

When they finally pulled away, she was gasping for air, both of her hands firmly planted on his cheeks and their foreheads resting together as they collected their thoughts.

When their eyes opened and met, they broke into wide grins, knowing that they both felt the same way, and that was a life-changing kiss.

John B couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her tight and kissing her again. ___

[ when you had not touched me yet, oh take me back to the night we met ]

“John Booker!” (y/n) scolded, “Why on earth did you think I would like to climb a bunch of stairs? This doesn’t feel like first date material to me”

John B just laughed, tugging her along behind him so she’d move faster.

“I promise, this is going to blow all first dates out of the ballpark,” He said. “And we’re almost to the top”

He’d told her he was taking her to one of the best views on the island, and while she would have been happy to do anything with him, she was getting pretty tired of climbing all these stairs.

Finally, when they made it to the top of the lighthouse, she understood why he’d brought her here.

It was a beautiful view of the ocean, and the sun was just starting to set, painting the sky in oranges and pinks, and water in purples and glittering blues. It was definitely a romantic spot, and John B was right. No other date she’d ever been on even compared to this one.

“It’s wonderful,” She told him sweetly as they stood at the large paned windows, both admiring the views. “You win”

“I win?” John B repeated proudly, wrapping his arm around her side and drawing her against him. “As in, I win all of it? I win dating?”

She looked up at him, sticking her tongue out playfully.

“You win” She said again.

“What do I win?” He asked, and she responded by leaning up and kissing his cheek.

“There you go buddy,” She said with a giggle. “You’re a winner”

“Maybe the boyfriend title?” He asked, and her lips broke into a grin.

“Yeah,” She agreed, turning in his hold so her chest was pressed against his. “Boyfriend sounds pretty damn good to me”

She was leaning up on the tips of her toes to kiss him properly, but he spoke before she could do so.

“Well then I really am a winner”

She only hummed in acknowledgement before leaning up the rest of the way and slanting her lips over his gently.

His hands slowly wrap around her hips, drawing her in against him while her own hands thread into his long locks of hair.

She sighs when they pull apart, staring lovingly into his eyes, admiring him wholeheartedly.

“I’ve got a question for you,” John B says, and she nods, waiting for him to continue.

They’re still holding each other close, so close that it’s easy for him to steal one more quick kiss before finishing his thought.

“How come you didn’t already have a boyfriend?” He asked.

“Didn’t need one” (y/n) answered simply, shrugging a shoulder.

John B smiles back at her, and one of her hands slides from the back of his head, splaying over his cheek, her thumb tracing his lower lip.

“I wasn’t really into the dating scene,” She admitted. “But then I met you two weeks ago and here we are” She says with another shrug.

“Here we are” He repeats, before leaning down and connecting their lips again.

They made out at the top of the lighthouse until a guard catches them, and hollers for them to get out before he calls the cops on them for trespassing.

“Didn’t think to tell me this was private properly?” (y/n) scolded her boyfriend as they escaped, making a break for the van that was parked not too far from the lighthouse itself.

“I didn’t know they had security!” John B retorted, grabbing her hand and pulling her with him so she’d run faster.

She just laughed at him as they ran. ___

[ i had all and then most of you... ]

There was one night that she was able to convince her parents to let her stay out all night. She’d made up some story about a sleepover with a friend, and how it was important for her to go because she needed to make serious friends on the island

And when they agreed, she’d packed a bag and headed off to John B’s.

They’d been officially dating for a month now it was well into July, and they couldn’t have been happier. She fell more for him every day, and with every day that they spent together, she swore she could spend forever with him.

Currently, they were lounging on the sofa after a long day of swimming and surfing. John B had tried and failed to teach (y/n) to surf, and by the end of the day, she’d just sat in the sand and admired him from afar.

They were exhausted now, pretending to watch whatever was on tv, when they both were half asleep on each other.

John B had sprawled out on the couch cushions, (y/n) half laying on him, half squished into the back of the couch. Her arm was thrown over his torso, and her opposite hand tangled in his hair, curling the strands around her fingers repeatedly.

His heart was beating against her ear, and she found that the pace of her own heart steadied to match his, until they beat in sync.

“You want to get up and go to bed?” John B mumbled, turning his head to look at her.

Her head was on his shoulder, and her hand fell from his hair when he moved.

“No,” She whispered back, eyes lazily wandering over his face. She’d almost had every feature of John B’s face committed to memory. “I just wanna lay here with you”

She wiggled closer to him, one of her legs tangling into his, and John B grinned at how cuddly she was being.

They hadn’t changed, (y/n) was still in a bikini covered by one of John B’s shirts she’d stolen earlier, and he was still in swim trunks, but neither of them bothered to move, too wrapped up in each other to care what they slept in.

“It’s not very late, sweetheart,” John B hummed. “Are you just gonna go to sleep?”

(y/n’s) heart fluttered delightedly at the nickname.

“It’s easy to go to sleep when you’re holdin’ me” She mumbled back, her eyes fluttering shut.

John B gazed at her fondly for a moment, loving how peaceful she looked, like nothing made her calmer than being in his arms. (Which was true)

“Alright then” He sighed, wrapping his arms more securely around her, feeling her shift closer to lay more on top of him.

“Thanks for letting me spend the night, love,” She murmured, her lips brushing over his collarbone as she spoke. “And for lettin’ me sleep on ya”

He chuckled, sending a deep vibration from his chest to hers.

“Anytime,” He whispered back. “You should stay over more”

“I should” She agreed in a murmur.

“Maybe the rest of summer…” John B continued. “Since I don’t get you for very long”

(y/n) was only able to offer a soft ‘mhm’ in return, as she began to drift off.

“(y/n),” John B spoke, one of his hands smoothing over her hip, gaining her attention before she could pass out. “I’ve got a question for you”

“Yes, love?” She hummed, still in the midst of falling asleep.

“What are we gonna do at the end of summer?”

Her heart began to beat faster, losing it’s sync with his.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, looking down at him worriedly.

“I don’t know,” She whispered. Her hand reached out to come through his hair smoothly. “But I don’t want to think about it right now”

He nods in understanding, and she lays back down against him. He wraps his arms around her a little tighter this time, holding onto her like she’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

“We’ll talk another time then” He said, and she hummed in sleepy agreement.

“For now just… hold me” (y/n) murmured.

She could feel him nod as his arms slid around her back, keeping her firm against him.

They both laid there for a long time, holding onto one another in silence before falling asleep. Both had wandering and racing minds, but worried about the opposite things. ___

[ ...some and now none of you. ]

Two months in, it was nearing the end of August, and John B knew that his days with (y/n) were even more numbered than before. He’d been trying to spend every waking moment with her in a feeble attempt to have a year’s worth of memories in only two months.

(y/n) had adored spending her days with the mop headed Pogue, every morning she woke up with a feeling of purpose and an extra beat in her heart. She was always quick to eat breakfast before scrambling out the door, trekking up to the north side of the island. Some days she’d even run there, and some days she’d leave early just to walk a little slower and enjoy the sights the island had to offer.

Her fantasy of running away from home had completely morphed into something else since meeting John B. Now the destination she had in mind for her escape was just two miles away, and he was currently waiting for her arrival.

She carried a tray of coffees in her hands, and there was a matching sack of donuts in her bag, which would hopefully suffice as a peace offering to John B’s friends seeing as she’d stolen him away from them for most of the summer. They didn’t really mind, but still, she wanted to leave a lasting good impression on the group.

Just as she was about to cross the invisible boundary between the Figure Eight and The Cut, someone called out to her. At first she’d ignored it, because she didn’t know anyone on this side of the island, so they had to be yelling for another (y/n), right?

But when her name was called out again, she turned to find the owner of the voice, surprised that they had in fact been reaching for her attention.

It had been the neighbors’ son, Kelce, she’d learned his name.

When he’d captured her attention, he jogged up to her, but this did nothing to aid her confusion.

“I thought that was you, haven’t seen you around much,” Kelce told her, but she furrowed her brows, wondering where he got the notion that he would be seeing her at all. “Where have you been all summer?”

Just as she was about to supply him with a decent enough answer, he seemed to notice the direction she was heading.

“You’re not heading out to The Cut, are you?” The boy asked with a rude sneer. “That’s Pogue territory (y/n), you should really stay on this side of the island. It’s safer over here anyways. And nicer”

(y/n) fought back the urge to roll her eyes.

“I think I can handle myself, thanks” Was all she said, before turning to continue her walk.

“Woah, hey, wait, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything,” Kelce was quick to jump in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. “Just trying to look out for you, that’s all”

“It’s not necessary,” (y/n) told him, getting annoyed now. “I’m going to meet my friends and-”

“You’ve got friends on the Northside?” Kelce asked, snickering.

Now she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. And a boyfriend for that matter” She declared, pushing past him and hoping he’d just leave her alone if she ignored him.

“Well damn, does your boyfriend know he’s sleepin’ with a Kook?” Kelce called.

She wished she hadn’t stopped, she wished that his trashy remark hadn’t affected her at all. But it had. It pissed her off and she almost threw the drink tray down on the ground in a fit of anger and frustration.

“Don’t call me that,”

There was more of a snap in her voice than she’s ever really had before, and as she whirled around to glare at the idiot boy who was still bothering her, he flinched just a little bit.

“And why the fuck do you seem to think that me and John B is any of your business? Get it in your ignorant little head that I have- and I want- nothing to do with you or your trust fund friends”

She all but spit at him, feeling a bit of relief in telling him off. Maybe it was a bit much, but she didn’t care. She felt better, and now she was going to go enjoy breakfast with her boyfriend and friends.

“John B huh?” Kelce spoke, surprising her. He just had to get the last word in? “He sure is Pogue Number One, isn’t he?”

Keep walking, (y/n) told herself, her grip on the coffee tray tightening as she did her best to ignore him. Don’t give in, that’s what he wants, you’ve said your piece, now keep moving.

“He sure is gonna be pissed off when he finds out, sweetheart!” Kelce called, not bothering to follow her, knowing that his words would be enough to set her off. “But when you come crawling back to this side of the island in tears, you let me know!”

He made a loud kissing sound, and (y/n) decided it was in her best interest to pick up the pace.

She got to John B’s place quicker than intended, she was going to stop on the beach to feed the plain donut she’d gotten to the birds, just to kill a little time, and also because she loved feeding them. But she’d skipped it this morning, and went straight to the Chateau.

John B was surprised to open the door and see her, he hadn’t been expecting her for another half hour, but it was a good surprise. Especially when he saw the drinks she’d brought.

“(y/n/n), hey- oh sweet, coffee!”

He’d eagerly grabbed the drink he knew was his, about to take a sip when she’d leaned up and pressed her lips to his in a quick but surprising kiss. Just as quickly as she’d initiated it, she was standing flat on her feet again, an unreadable look on her face.

“What was that for?” John B asked, the same dopey smile on his face that always appeared when she kissed him.

She loved that dopey smile.

“Just felt like it,” (y/n) hummed. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, course,” John B stepped aside to let her in through the door, drinking his coffee.

They’d only gone out for coffee a few times, maybe three, but she had still remembered his order perfectly.

“JJ’s still asleep, and Pope’s doing homework in the kitchen, we’re just waiting on Kie to get here and then we’ll go out on the boat” John B told her, guiding her into the house.

“I’m not doing homework!” Pope called from the kitchen. “It’s a crossword puzzle”

Both John B and (y/n) laughed quietly at him, and tried their best to hide it, but failed completely.

“I’ve got coffee,” She told him, quickly trying to apologize for teasing him. “What’s your poison?”

Pope made his pick of the bunch, and told (y/n) she was forgiven, for now, but she knew he was only messing with her.

“So you’re here early,” John B said, lounging on the sofa while (y/n) set the drinks on the coffee table. “Today’s not the day you run away, is it?”

“John B, I come here every day,” (y/n) chuckled. “No, I’m not running away. I just… got up early and figured I’d head over” She shrugged.

It wasn’t a complete lie, but something about the way her eyes shifted to look anywhere but at him told John B that there was more to the story.

He stood from the couch, crossing the room to stand with her so that when he spoke quietly only she would hear.

“Hey, are you alright?” He’d asked, his hands smoothing over her shoulders and down her arms.

“Yeah, it’s nothing” (y/n) answered, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hide her feelings from him, so there was no sense in lying about them.

“Did something happen?” John B asked, his brows furrowing as his mind wandered off to the worst case scenario.

“No, nothing happened, I’m fine,” (y/n) told him with a light laugh. “Just tired, promise”

He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he didn’t want to push her and annoy her, so he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded, and kissed her forehead before pulling her with him to lounge on the couch.

She sat closer to him than usual, drinking her coffee in silence, and enjoying his presence next to her. John B alone was a comforting force, whether he knew it or not. By the time that JJ woke up and Kiara arrived, she’d calmed down, and nearly forgotten her run-in with Kelce this morning.

But every once in a while throughout the day, it pestered her in the back of her mind. A nasty little voice reminding her that time was running out, and she couldn’t keep up the charade forever.

The group had taken the HMS Pogue out on the water for the day, so that Pope could fish, Kie and JJ could smoke in peace, and leaving John B and (y/n) to do whatever they wanted.

They currently were lounging on the back of the boat, their feet in the water as they relaxed and talked, their favorite pastime.

“Do your parents ever get upset that you spend all your time with us?” John B asked out of nowhere. “I mean, you are on a family vacation after all”

(y/n) bit her lip before shaking her head.

“No, not really,” She replied, which was true, her parents didn’t seem to care at all that she was never home. She’d figured they were just happy she’d made friends so quickly.

She hadn’t actually told him she had a boyfriend, though.

“Most of the stuff they want to do I don’t really have interest in,” She told him. “And I think they’re just glad I have friends to hang out with instead”

John B nodded, but she could see the little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” She asked him, but he didn’t say anything. “What John B? What’s that look for?”

“Friends, huh?” He asked her, and she rolled her eyes.

Even though her sunglasses shielded her eyes, he could still tell she’d done it.

“Really?” She asked, pushing the sunglasses on top of her head so he could see the bored look on his face.

“So they don’t know about me, huh?” He asked, his smirk widening a bit. “I’m kinda like… your dirty little secret”

(y/n) rolled her eyes again while John B laughed at his own words.

“Really?” She asked him again.

“Yeah really,” He said. “So what am I? Your summer fling?”

He was only joking, but there was a slight sting to his words.

“No, of course not,” (y/n) said seriously. “You’re my boyfriend”

He knocked his shoulder against hers.

“I’m only teasing, sweetheart,” He told her softly. “No worries”

“I know, I just- I don’t see you that way, is all,” She told him. “You’re my boyfriend. That’s so much more than just a summer fling”

He smiled at her, pecking her cheek before nodding in agreement.

“Alright, honey” He said, before sliding closer and wrapping his arm around her so that she could lean against his side.

It was quiet as they sat there together, kicking their feet in the calm waters.

“I should tell them about you” (y/n) said suddenly.

John B wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or herself, but he looked down at her as a smile appeared on his face.

“Really?” He asked, and she nodded, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, really,” She repeated. “I want them to meet you, and, I want you to meet them,”

John B mistook her shaky voice for nerves, rather than guilt.

“Would you- um- would you maybe want to come over and meet them tomorrow?” She asked nervously.

“Yeah,” John B nodded, smiling wider. “I’d love to meet your parents”

A shaky smile pulled on (y/n’s) lips, and she let out a slight huff as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Okay,” She responded. “But… um… promise it won’t change anything?” She asked.

John B’s brows furrowed as he looked down at her again, but her eyes were trained intently on the water.

“Of course it won’t,” He told her sincerely. “How could it?”

(y/n) didn’t say anything right away, just shrugged her shoulders. It was hard to remind herself that this was the right thing to do.

“I just really like you,” She admitted quietly. “And I don’t want to fuck this up”

John B recognized her words from the night of the party, the night he’d kissed her and they confessed their feelings for one another.

“You couldn’t possibly do that,” He reminded her. “Promise”

(y/n) squeezed her eyes shut tight, leaning further into John B’s side. Her arms wrapped around him loosely as her face buried itself into the crook of his neck.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, not realizing that she was clinging to him in case it was the last time she got the chance. ___

“So what are your parents like? How should I act?” John B asked, excitedly drumming his hands on the steering wheel as he drove (y/n) to the hotel.

She’d walked down to John B’s place this morning like she did most mornings, they had breakfast and fed the seagulls on the beach like they did most mornings, and then they got in his van and headed back to the Figure Eight.

“They’re normal people,” (y/n) answered, watching the way his fingers tapped uneven patterns on the wheel. “Just be yourself, I know they’ll like you as much as I do”

He looked over at her, that lovesick smile on his face that made her heart erupt into butterflies. She smiled back at him, leaning back against the headrest as she admired his features.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” She asked him, reaching for one of his hands and pulling it away from the wheel to hold in her lap.

“Well, I’ve never met a girl’s parents before. Not like this, anyways,” John B admitted. “So, yeah, I’m kind of jittery”

(y/n) smiled sadly, although he was watching the road again and didn’t notice.

She pulled his hand up so that she could kiss the back of it, her thumb caressing over his lovingly before dropping it to her lap again.

“They’ll love you” She told him softly.

John B put on his turn signal to turn into the hotel, and (y/n’s) breath hitched in her throat.

“Actually, you’re gonna keep going straight” She told him, her stomach doing flips and her heart racing a million miles an hour in her chest.

Is this a stroke? I think I’m gonna have a stroke.

“Oh, okay,” John B replied casually, flicking the turn signal off and continuing on the road. “We’re not meeting them here?” He asked.

She could only manage a slight shake of her head.

“No,” She mumbled. “I’ll give you directions”

John B was confused, but he went along with it, and followed her directions into a neighborhood on the Figure Eight.

Meanwhile, (y/n’s) leg started bouncing, her foot tapping against the floor of the van in rapid and jerky movements.

Even then John B hadn’t asked any questions,. And even when she had him pull into a driveway, it hadn’t hit him yet.

“So, um, this is me”

John B’s brows furrowed as (y/n) got out of the car, waiting for him to join her outside. He looked out the windshield at the grand mansion that looked like all the other mansions on this side of the island. Crisp and clean, probably thanks to the work of Pogues.

He got out of the van, eyes still focused on the house as he walked up to (y/n).

“What do you mean?” He asked.

Deep down, he knew exactly what she meant. But the denial he was facing presently, was strong. So strong that the facts were thrown right in his face, and he still couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on.

“My parents are inside,” (y/n) said, reaching her hand out towards him. “Wanna go in?”

John B blinked, and finally looked down at her.

The guilt was written all over her face. He recognized it now. That expression she’d wear sometimes that he couldn’t quite decipher, the way she’d suddenly get quiet and fold in on herself, this was why. Because the lie was too much for her to bear.

“You’ve got to be joking,” He said, and she shook her head.

She was chewing rather aggressively on her lip, definitely bruising it.

“(y/n), come on, tell me this is a joke”

“It’s not,” She mumbled back. “I- we- um-”

“You live here?” John B asked, gesturing to the mansion behind them. “You live here, on the Figure Eight- no, worse- on the island, you’re not just here for the summer?”

She shook her head.

“Jesus Christ…” John B muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“John B, when I met you, I-”

“Why’d you lie about it? Did you pity me?” He asked suddenly.

“What? No! Of course not!” (y/n) shrieked. “John B, I told you that I hadn’t planned on meeting you at all, when I told you I was a Touron-”

“You wanted me to like you? Is that it?”

“No! Well, I mean, yeah, kind of, but I just wanted you to give me a chance and it spiralled and-”

“Why wait till now? Why didn’t you tell me? It’s been two months (y/n/n)”

“I know…” She said, ducking her head so she didn’t have to see how angry and hurt he looked.

“Why didn’t you tell me the night we met? And hell, if you were going to lie about it, why didn’t you tell me the night we got together?”

“Because I didn’t care! Kook, Pogue, it didn’t matter to me,” (y/n) explained. “I liked you for you and I- I wanted you to like me for me, where I live shouldn’t have determined-”

“No, you lying to me about it for months is what determined this” John B spat back at her, geturing lamely between them.

(y/n’s) heart broke, and her hands began to tremble.

“What do you mean?” She mumbled.

“I’m done. We’re done. I’m out of here” John B shook his head as he went back to the van, whipping open the door a little harder than he needed to.

“Wait, John-”

“I don’t want to hear it, (y/n),” John B grumbled as he got in the van and slammed the door.

He glanced at her through the open window, but quickly looked away, shoving his key into the ignition.

“I can’t even fucking look at you right now” He said, and it was the last thing he said to her before driving away, probably heading back to The Cut to tell his friends about the bullshit he’d been living th elast two months.

(y/n) stood in her driveway, watching with teary eyes as he sped off, probably leaving skid marks on the road.

She fucked up. She did exactly what she knew would happen, but the consequences were so much worse than she thought they would be.

John B was long gone by the time she dragged herself into the house. ___

It was weird, spending the next couple days alone, at home, no one to talk to, and no motivation to go anywhere. The last two months had been the best time of her life, going out every day, enjoying the sun, going on little adventures, falling in love, it could have been memories she looked back on fondly.

But instead she was laying in bed, crying herself to sleep for the fourth night in a row, broken hearted.

It was her own fault, she knew that. She knew she had brought this on herself, but it still hurt like hell.

She missed him so much her heart ached when she thought of him. And then that ache spread over her whole body, until she couldn’t bother to get out of bed in the morning.

Or the afternoon.

Or the evening.

Tonight was one of those nights. The tv was on, playing reruns of some sitcom she’d seen a hundred times before. She hadn’t been watching for the past three or so episodes, too wrapped up in her own angst to care about a character’s struggles.

It was late, very late, maybe two in the morning. (y/n) hadn’t checked the time in a while, but it felt like she’d been laying there for hours now.

And despite knowing she shouldn’t, she had dressed herself in John B’s sweatshirt, again, hoping it would provide a little comfort to help her sleep.

It hadn’t.

She was only reminded more of her mistakes, and it hardly smelled like him anymore. So any chance at gaining a little relief was crushed.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she cried harder into her pillow, hoping to drown out the sound so that her parents didn’t hear her sobbing from the study downstairs.

Her parents hadn’t really taken notice of her odd behavior. They didn’t think twice about how she didn’t go out in the past couple days like she had all summer. They didn’t hear her cry herself to sleep. And they definitely didn’t notice that the sweatshirt she’d been wearing for four days straight wasn’t even hers.

It hurt a little, but she preferred it that way. It was easier to hide everything from them than to come clean and fess up to everything. She wasn’t sure they’d give a shit anyways.

Tap tap tap.

She ignored the incessant tapping at her window, brushing it off and assuming it was just a tree branch hitting the side of the house from the wind. It was annoying, but she didn’t want to get out of bed to correct it.

Tap tap tap.

She pulled the hood of the sweatshirt over her head, and then grabbed an extra pillow to push against her ears, drowning out the consistent tapping.

Knock knock knock knock knock.

Finally, she shot up, about to storm over to the window and break off the branch that was keeping her from properly crying herself to sleep.

But as soon as she got out of bed, she realized it wasn’t a branch at all.

It was John B, sitting on her roof, kneeling in front of her window, tapping away to get her attention.

Her heart stopped for a solid five seconds, and she stood frozen in place, staring at him in shock.

For a moment, she told herself he wasn’t even real, that her broken heart was playing tricks on her.

But then he gave a small wave, beckoning her over to him to let him in, and she practically tripped over herself running to the window, unlocking it and shoving it upwards.

“I thought you were asleep,” John B said before anything else, and her breath hitched in her throat as he leaned over her windowsill. “Can I come in?”

She nods, stepping back so he can climb inside, and she shut the window behind him.

He’s looking around, seeing as he’s never been in her room before. He’s never really been to her house either. But having him here now, even if she didn’t know why, felt good.

“What um… what are you doing here?” She asked quietly, before wiping at her eyes, hoping she didn’t look like she’d been crying for almost a week straight. “How’d you know this was my room?”

“I didn’t,” John B chuckled bashfully, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I kinda just climbed your whole roof, peeking in all the windows like a creep. I’m hoping your neighbors didn’t see me”

For the first time in a while, (y/n) cracked a smile.

“You’re lucky my parents didn’t see you,” She said with a sniffle. “I don’t think they’d be too fond of a boy sneaking around their property at this time of night”

Looking at him made her want to cry again. Or throw herself into his arms. Maybe both. But she still wasn’t sure what he was doing here.

“So look, I- I have some things I need to say to you,” John B said, cutting to the chase. “I’ve been thinking, and talking to Kiara a lot because she’s smarter about this stuff than I am,”

(y/n) nodded, wringing her hands together as she waited patiently for him to speak his thoughts.

“I’m still… mad… that you didn’t tell me you lived on the island,” He started slowly, “But not because you’re a Kook! Well- you’re not a Kook- but you know- I mean you live on the Figure Eight and all but you’re not one of them, I get that now, I should have seen that before but I was just so mad and- and I’m sorry that I pushed you away, that was fucked up,”

She didn’t say anything yet, because she wanted him to be able to get all his thoughts out on the table without interruption, so she just nodded her head again.

“But I- I realized that you… you really made my whole summer something I wasn’t expecting, I wasn’t expecting to- to meet someone like you and I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with you especially so quickly but I did and I- I just don’t want to lose you, these last couple days really fucking sucked”

He let out a sigh as he looked at her, waiting for a reaction. His shoulders slumped like he’d finally let out the tension he’d been internalizing for the last four days.

“You’re in love with me?” (y/n) asked softly, a real smile stretching across her lips, slowly lighting up her whole face.

“Yeah,” John B answered quietly. “Yeah, I’m like, crazy in love with you”

She stepped forward, her hands reaching up to cradle his jaw, relishing in how warm his skin always felt against hers.

“I missed you,” She murmured, her eyes flickering between his. “And I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry too,” John B exhaled, his own hands reaching up to grasp onto her wrists. “Start over?” He asked hopefully.

(y/n) shook her head, her smile softening as she gazed at him.

“No,” She murmured. “I wanna pick up where we left off”

He seemed to like that idea, because he grinned, and met her halfway in a kiss.

She was reaching all the way up on the tips of her toes to kiss him properly, her arms wrapping around his neck, and his winding around her waist, pulling her just slightly off the ground so she was more level with his height.

When they parted, she laughed quietly, her eyes filling with tears again. They were tears of relief now, but he still noticed.

“I don’t ever want to be apart again,” He told her, one of his hands brushing through her hair before landing on her cheek, his thumb gently swiping away a few tears. “Now that I know you’re here to stay, and I’m not gonna lose you at the end of the summer”

She nods back at him, giving him another kiss.

“You don’t have to lose me ever,” She murmured. “I love you too, John Booker”

Their grins were so wide it was hard to kiss again, but they made it work anyways.

He finally sets her back down on the ground after a few more kisses, and she pulls him with her into her bed.

“Stay the night?”

“Your parents won’t notice?” John B asked, already getting under the covers with her.

“Trust me, they won’t” (y/n) assured him.

It wasn’t until he was about to wrap his arms around her again that he noticed what she was wearing.

“Is that mine?” He asked, tugging at the worn material of his sweatshirt.

“Mhm,” (y/n) hummed, squirming closer so she could lay against his chest. “I’ll give it back tomorrow though”

“You can keep it” John B said sweetly.

“Nuh uh, I don’t really want it anymore” She mumbled back.

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t smell like you anymore. I’ll trade it for something else”

Her eyes fell shut as she started to doze off against him, finally feeling comfort and relief in his arms.

He smiled down at her, pressing his lips to her forehead, and lingering there for just a few extra seconds.

Pope had been so, so right that night that he’d met her. She was absolutely the greatest love story of his life.

[ take me back to the night we met ]

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #john b #john b x reader #john b routledge #john b routledge x reader #john b routledge imagine #john b routledge scneario #john b routledge fanfiction

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

Text

Starstruck: Part 7

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 7 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 6 / Part 8

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, angst

Historical Inaccuracies: none that I can think of!

Word Count: 4.3k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The sun made you wonder. Made you wonder why it was shining in the first place. How wretched of it to shine so prettily when you felt so miserable.

It was a misery too out of reach to be pacified, for it was not the obvious sort, the kind in which you cry and shudder and feel like you’re suffocating. This was the kind of miserable in which you mope, staring out the window in a daze, and the only thing you are aware of is the frown on your lips; you opt for bitterness with every word and thought. This is the miserable where you feel detached and lost, like you exist in one universe and your feelings in a neighbouring dimension.

Brian hadn’t spoken to you for over a week.

It had rained every day since.

When classes had resumed the following Monday, Brian didn’t smile at you when you chanced a ‘good morning’. He merely pressed his lips together and ducked beneath his curls. That was how you knew he was avoiding you.

On Tuesday, Brian failed Carmichael’s test. This you knew because he ripped it in half as he stormed out of the door, following the lecture And he was glowering. You’d never thought that timid Brian could even have the ability to glower.

On Wednesday afternoon, Deacy called you.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me and Rog for tea today?”

You bit your lip slowly. “Just you and Rog?”

“Yep!” he said. “I’ve told you that Veronica’s just gone up to see her parents for a couple of days, and that I’m working so she thought it best for me to stay behind, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you’ve told me,” you replied. “And Heather went with her.” Heather and Veronica had grown up in the same town, and so Heather, behind due to visit her own parents, had boarded the train with Ronnie.

“Oh, yes.” John paused, then asked hesitantly, “Are… are you okay with just me and Roger, for tea I mean?”

You breathed quietly in relief.

“Y/N? Who are you avoiding? You haven’t fallen out with Heather, have you?”

“Oh, no no,” you assured him.

“With Veronica, then? Surely not.”

“No, Deacy, she’s lovely.”

“She likes you too. You get along well. Maybe you should go shopping together or something sometime,” he babbled.

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly.

“Well, you have our number. And you know you’re always welcome over.”

“Thanks, Deacy—”

But Deacy was still trying to work out who it was you were supposedly at odds with. “Not Roger!” he cried. “That’s why you’re not sure about lunch. You and Roger are arguing, aren’t you?”

“No, Roger and I are fine, John.”

“Oh, good,” he sighed. “I was worried for a moment. And I’ve already had to diffuse so many fights this week, in the band, y’know.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he sighed, “you wouldn’t believe it. So many. It’s like cats and dogs at the moment. Not sure why. Yelling and throwing various instrumental gear. Drumsticks, microphone stands, cables… clumsily. Almost an amp, yesterday.”

You winced, “That sounds, uh, violent?”

“Actually,” he considered, meanwhile you pondered the reason he was jabbering nineteen a dozen, “they’ve all sort of been started by… Oh dear.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, Y/N, dear,” he said in a pitiful tone. “You’re avoiding Brian.”

“Am not!” you exclaimed.

“Are you not?” He sounded genuinely surprised this time.

“If anything, he’s avoiding me,” you grumbled, because at this point, Brian deliberately turned his head away when you passed him in the mornings. He seemed so pained by your presence that wondered if perhaps there was something more to the death of his aunt, if you had unknowingly poured salt on a second wound.

“Well…” began Deacy, seemingly at a loss. “Well, why, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. You’d not been sleeping well for the past few nights, awake and alone with your pestering thoughts. “I asked where he’d been, when he disappeared off to god knows where the other week.”

John’s puzzlement was apparent. “And?” he said.

“And nothing. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“That’s terribly odd, Y/N. I asked. We all asked. He said he’d been up to visit his parents when they lost power in a storm. Whole phone lines came crashing down, apparently. Too much of a mess to get any sort of communication through to anywhere, and he figured we wouldn’t worry badly.”

You shook your head, then remembered that you were on the phone. “That can’t be true, Deacy. And even if it were, we did worry, remember?”

“I suppose we did worry,” Deacy conceded. “But what do you mean, that can’t be true? Did he not tell you the same thing?”

The air gasped from your lungs.

He hadn’t told anyone.

Except you.

“No, Deacy,” you said. “He— he said… His aunt died.”

“What?”

“His aunt died.”

“Yes, I heard you, Y/N, but… He lied to us?”

“Or he didn’t tell you the whole truth,” you suggested. It was something you did often; you didn’t like to lie, but naturally, you didn’t want everyone to know everything.

“I suppose. That’s just so terribly unlike Brian,” John said concernedly. “He doesn’t like lying.”

“Um… who do you know that actively enjoys lying?”

“Oh, Freddie’s near-pathological,” Deacy said off-handedly. “But Brian’s got more of a moral compass than I have!”

“That’s slightly concerning…” you remarked. “So, how is Freddie?”

“I talked to him and he said he was well,” Deacy related, “but now I’m not so sure. He’s seemed a bit off lately. Something to do with Mary, I think.”

You frowned. “Yeah, I think something’s wrong.”

Deacy sighed. “I’m beginning to think the only people who are okay are Veronica and myself.”

“Roger isn’t okay?”

“He’s usually the person Brian takes his temper out on.”

“Oh.”

“Tell you what,” said Deacy, “come to tea at mine at seven tonight and we’ll talk more then. I imagine you’ve got lectures to get to.”

“Just finished with the last one for today, but some studying wouldn’t hurt,” you replied. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“Okay, see you at seven. Bye bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Deacy.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You spent the rest of the afternoon studying. Or rather, you tried to study. The formulas and theories and diagrams mostly swirled across your page today, as much a spiral galaxy as the Milky Way. You speculated your lack of sleep and your lack of water could be the cause. Or maybe your lack of interaction with other humans. No Heather, no Freddie, no Roger, barely John. And no Brian. It was a wonder you’d not yet become a total hermit.

At six thirty you threw on your scarf and coat and went out the door, a bottle of wine in one hand.

At six thirty-two, you had boarded the tube and remembered that the scarf wasn’t actually your own. It was the rainbow scarf. You nestled your face into the wool and fibres tickled the tip of your nose, subtle scents of coffee and lilies shrouding you in their homely warmth.

You missed the owner of that scarf.

At seven precisely, you rang the Deacon-Tetzlaff doorbell.

The door swung open and John Deacon beamed at you. “Ah, Y/N! You’ve made it to my little party.”

“Careful, Deacy,” you admonished, “you’re beginning to sound an awful lot like those old film villains.”

“I think I’ll need more evidence than that,” Deacy kissed your cheek in greeting. You returned the gesture and went on inside, offering the wine bottle which he accepted cheerily. He was just closing the door when there came a shout from the street.

“Hold the door, will you, Deacy?”

Roger had arrived, dressed extravagantly in a fur coat and thin, orange-tinted sunglasses.

“Bit over the top for tea at mine, Roggie?” Deacy laughed.

You nodded to Roger’s sunglasses. “Surely those aren’t necessary.”

“They just complete the look. And honestly, you two are daft. Coat’s for warmth. It’s bloody well snowing.”

“Snowing?” you and Deacy repeated, leaning out the door.

Roger was right; little flakes fluttered down from the dappled grey sky, dusting his hair, and now yours as well.

“And so it is,” John said with another laugh. You held out your hand and let the glittery while specks fall into your palm. Despite your love for warmth, you liked snow. It was like catching stardust.

“Brimi would love that analogy,” Roger kissed your cheek as well, and you realised that you’d spoken aloud. You swallowed, settling your features back into a mask of nonchalance.

“He wouldn’t love that fur coat, though,” you tapped Roger’s sleeve.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” grumbled Roger.

“At the moment, he doesn’t love much at all, really,” Deacy remarked as he shut the door when you were all inside.

“Yes,” Roger echoed the sentiment, “can we discuss that? He’s a right bore.”

“More than usual?” John joked.

“God, yes. Thinking of throwing my bloody hi-hat at him next time.”

“He didn’t get the message from the drumsticks?”

“Apparently not. Went past his house this afternoon. He’s still moping.”

You tried not to think about the fact that you were the reason why Brian was moping. Meanwhile, John and Roger bantered on as you hung up your coat and— and the scarf.

You missed the majority of the conversation, having drifted into the abyss of your own thoughts once more. It was becoming a bad habit.

“Champagne? Oh, perfect!” John was saying. You’d reached the kitchen. “And it’s Moët et Chandon, too. Fred would be proud of you.”

“Funny, it was actually his idea,” Roger mused, closing his sunglasses around the collar of his shirt.

Deacy’s eyes widened as he pulled a tray from the oven. “Freddie better not have suggested anything else.”

Roger raised his eyebrows. “What would he have suggested, John?”

You wondered whether Roger was alluding to Freddie’s dampened temperament of the past many days, his tearfulness on the floor of a public bathroom, his obvious discomfort when you spoke of Mary.

Deacy waved an oven mitt and squinted through the steam that rose from the loaf of bread he had pulled from the oven.

“Deacy?” you said when the latter did not answer.

“Food’s ready!” he said brightly, and you all gathered around the kitchen table, Roger’s question forgotten.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You’d eaten your fill of John’s homemade risotto and bread, which was quite a large portion. Deacy was an excellent cook, in contrast with the likes of Freddie and Roger, neither of whom knew how to boil an egg.

“That was lovely, Deacy,” you said, positioning your knife and fork at twenty-past four.

“Agreed,” Roger nodded from beside you. “I’d ask you to give me the recipe,” he addressed Deacy, “but you know I can’t cook.”

“Oh, yes, we all know, Roger,” John sniggered.

“Freddie can’t cook either,” Roger pointed out petulantly, as though this made up for his own downfalls as a twenty-four-year-old who had moved away from home without learning certain basics.

“So, why are we here, Deacs?” you said.

“Mm,” said Roger. “You never call meetings, John. That’s always Freddie. And if it was about Queen, you would have actually invited the other two idiots over. Not Cinderella, here,” he elbowed you in the ribs.

“Ow!” you yelped. “Better Cinderella than an idiot, though.”

Roger narrowed his eyes at you. “Then dress the part. Otherwise I’ll have to take back the title.”

“Dress… in cinders and dirt, like you have?”

“This is an expensive shirt!”

“Hey!” Deacy interjected, but you and Roger only paid attention after he stood and tapped his knife to his wine glass.

You looked at Roger and grinned. Roger waggled his eyebrows; he had the same idea. You took a breath—

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” you cried together.

Deacy rolled his eyes. “How I put up with any of you is a wonder. Might as well not tell you, now.” He made to sit down.

“Well, I wanna hear it,” Roger pouted.

“Yeah, go on Deacy,” you patted his side of the table.

He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t. He glanced down at the tablecloth instead, adjusted the cutlery on his plate with two fingers, then inhaled slowly.

“You’re not dying, are you?” said Roger. You elbowed him to shut him up.

“Right then,” Deacy straightened up. “Y/N, Roger,” he toasted you each with his glass and you smiled back bemusedly. He paused for dramatic effect. Then, “Ronnie’s pregnant!”

Your mouth fell open.

“Oh, Deacy, you sly bastard,” Roger stood and clapped his friend on the back.

Deacy rolled his eyes again, but he was still beaming.

“John, that’s wonderful!” you said. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Deacy replied, pleased as punch. “Freddie and Brian found out by accident, and they were both busy tonight anyway, and I wanted to tell you before Veronica came back because she was going up to tell her parents,” he gushed, “and by then Freddie wouldn’t have been able to keep the surprise a surprise anymore.” Deacy practically shone, he was truly so happy. You couldn’t imagine more of a family man than John Deacon would be. He doted on Veronica and would dote upon his children even more.

Roger suddenly laughed, and you and Deacy looked at him. “Now I get it,” he said.

“Get what, Rog?”

“The champagne.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Thursday, you woke up with a violent headache. You had definitely overdone the champagne last night.

You rolled over to turn off your alarm clock, but instead rolled over the edge of a sofa.

And kicked Roger Taylor in the face.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Roger groaned, pulling his fur coat up over his face. He had used it as a blanket for the night, rejecting Deacy’s offer of actual bedding. “If you wanted to sleep on the floor, you could just have said so, not kicked me awake to take my spot.”

“I was perfectly fine with the sofa, thanks,” you mumbled, rubbing your temples.

Roger sat up blearily. “God, what a headache,” he complained.

You nodded in agreement, your eyes screwed shut.

“Good morning!” John appeared in the doorway to the living room.

“Shhhhh,” Roger hummed.

“Not my fault you never learnt to be responsible,” Deacy shrugged. “Can I interest anyone in coffee?”

“May I order some silence?” you asked. “And a black coffee, please.”

“On my way,” Deacy left for the kitchen.

“Yes please, I’ll have a cup,” Roger called hoarsely after Deacy. “With one and three-sevenths sugars.”

“One black, one with one sugar?” John called back.

“One and three-sevenths sugars, please.”

“Three sugars, Rog?”

“No, one and three-sevenths.”

“Seven sugars?!”

“DEACY. One and three-sevenths!”

Laughter trickled through the kitchen door. “I’m just winding you up, Roger,” Deacy returned to the living room.

Roger sighed. “Well, thank god. I was beginning to rethink our friendship. You should know how I take my coffee.”

“We’re not married, Rog. And if you really felt so fondly about me, you should have told me so before I took my girlfriend to bed sometime last year.”

“Which was far too long ago.” Roger took his mug of coffee when Deacy offered it to him. “You take a long time to fall in love with, Deacs. Couldn’t possibly have beaten Ronnie to that chase.”

“Speaking of rethinking our friendship…” John muttered.

After finishing your coffee, you swore at the time the clock on Deacy’s mantlepiece displayed, made your apologies, and rushed off to your morning lecture.

And still Brian would not even look at you.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

At nine o’clock that night, you sat down in your armchair by the fireplace and made two phone calls.

First, you called your mum.

Then you called Brian, who had neglected to turn up for the evening’s derivatives-and-guitar session.

Three guesses as to who took your call and who did not.

You went to bed soon after that, but sleep would not draw you away until two hours past midnight.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

On Friday evening, two of your housemates decided to get shit-faced. As Heather and Roger had taken up residency in your room, you decided to join in the getting-shit-faced.

Joan and Paulie were waiting for you in the kitchen and cheered when you entered.

“Our favourite Y/N!” Paulie hugged you, and Joan grinned from where she sat atop the kitchen counter, already holding a poured drink.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked. But this was apparently the wrong question, because Paulie’s bright eyes turned suddenly tearful.

Joan hopped down from the counter and wrapped an arm around Paulie’s shoulder.

“Just some hypocrite called Paulie a slag,” Joan sipped her drink. “Now we’re celebrating the fact that little Pauline here packed her first punch, eh, sweetheart?”

Paulie blushed crimson, and it was clear that she was not on her first drink either.

She turned to you, “What’ve you come to celebrate, Y/N?”

You laughed bitterly. “Perhaps my wasted heart.”

“It’ll be a large drink, then?”

You nodded, and Paulie frowned sympathetically. Joan stuck you a glass, filling it to the brim with alcohol.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It was midnight, but tonight, there was no magic in the hour.

You sat in the window seat and leaned your head against the wood of the window frame.

The heating was broken and it was raining ice outdoors. Sleet. Yes, that was what it was called. Your muddled brain struggled to keep up with your racing heart.

You’d left Joan and Paulie in the kitchen, because the thing about Joan and Paulie was that they were mad for each other, though they appeared to be the only two people in the world who were blind to the phenomenon. Tonight, however, they’d made some discoveries regarding that area of their lives. They’d stopped drinking early on and had begun snogging instead, so you’d taken a bottle of mulled wine with you to the window seat and now sat drinking alone in the darkness.

Or perhaps the darkness was what you were drinking, and what was drinking you.

From the cinema next door to the house, you could vaguely hear laughter, and the smell of popcorn lightly permeated the air that drifted in through your open window. It was no longer raining, and the sky with its spatter of stars was once more dimly visible above the silhouettes of London in the nighttime. The mulled wine was made of elderflower and blackberries, and it had heated your cheeks and filled your head with poetry and your eyes with a mist.

Swirling the wine in your glass, you imagined this was what it would be like to live on the cusp between tragedy and comedy in a Shakespearian work.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” slipped the words of Hamlet from your lips, “doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.”

You sighed and wished for the night to grow day as you stared out the window, searching for planets and solar systems you knew very well could not be found by the naked eye.

The rainbow scarf warmed your skin.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Saturday, as went without saying, was characterised by a fierce headache. Again.

And with Sunday came the Sunday Blues.

Well, really, you’d had the All-Week Blues, but Sunday did not care about this; you could now add the coming week of studying and assessments to your list of worries.

You listened to Freddie’s records and mindlessly memorised every word, every line. The music was your anchor, as it had always been. But it was now more so than ever.

You hated feeling worthless, but there was nothing you could do to not feel so.

Freddie and Roger and Deacy and Brian, they had each other. They wouldn’t have missed you, you told yourself, and it was only fuel to fire that Freddie did not trust you enough to tell you what it was that was going on with him. Then there was Heather, and Heather had Roger. And then Joan— Joan had Paulie. And Kate’s friends were Amélie and Jenny. No one was yours alone.

No one was yours at all.

And the fact that Brian May so actively avoided you just proved it all— who needs you?

Who needs you, it was in his lowered eyes.

Who needs you, it was in his silence.

Who needs you, it was in your head.

It was all only in your head. But sometimes, it was difficult to discern the world from your head.

So you picked up your guitar to prove your head, the world, wrong.

The strings stung your skin, and the memory of gentle smiles ghosted along your pulse where fingers had once applied their tender touch.

Your misery rose a wave and crashed as anger.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Two more weeks cycled past on bell-less bicycles; they passed utterly without consequence.

February had yielded March, and snow had melted to an incessant rain. But the rain fostered new leaves and flowers, and turned London to all the colours of the rainbow in the glory of Spring.

It would have been pleasant, to leave classes and hurry through warm, sprinkling rain and spots of sunshine, for but the claustrophobia that the gaze of a tall and blushing young man provided you with, in every waking hour of your life, whether in person or by way of imagination.

You waited for everyone else to enter the lecture hall, hanging back so that you would be the last.

When the final dawdler had passed into the hall, you approached Brian, who, of course, was holding the door.

“Bri,” you began gently, willing him to look at you. He didn’t. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already said that.” He radiated hostility, but you felt uplifted by the fact that he’d acknowledged you at all.

“I know. But I meant it. And I mean it.”

His eyes flicked over you. “We’re going to be late.”

He let go of the door.

You grasped the handle before the frame could smack you in the face. The edges of your patience were tampered with by his gaze; they had now become short and sharp.

If he was going to behave so pettily, then you would stoop to his level.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It began as stealing Carmichael’s questions before Brian could answer them.

Then it was politely saying ‘good morning’ to everyone you encountered, except Brian.

Then you temporarily overcame your hatred for mornings in order to arrive at the lectures early, before Brian. You held the door for everyone. Until he arrived. Then you let go and went inside.

On the third morning that this occurred, Brian glared at you and you sneered back.

How quickly you had gone from friends to… to rivals was slightly disconcerting.

Freddie seemed to think so too. He invited you to rehearsal one evening, and though you clenched your jaw at having to be in the same room as Brian Harold “Petty” May, Freddie begged and pleaded and wore you down.

But when you arrived at one of Imperial College’s unused lecture halls that evening, Brian was the first person you saw, and at the sour twist of his lips, you huffed and stormed back out the door.

Freddie and John were calling after you, and you vaguely heard Roger ask Brian what the hell was wrong with him. Yet, you kept walking.

And then you ran.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

I’d had it with Brian. I really had.

So caught up in that bloody head of his, and for what? What had Y/N even said? What could have been so bad? She, like the rest of us, had naturally been worried by Brian’s disappearance, and he owed it to us, to her, to let us know that he had been at least physically all right.

I’d gotten it out of Deacs that Brian had lied to us about where he was the other week, and I’d been furious— how could he lie to us? Brian never lied.

I’d been good and well ready to knock him about a bit, that was what I’d been, and I had threatened to do just so, before Freddie materialised, as he often did, and pushed me back onto the drum stool before I could go anywhere. He demanded to know why I was so pissed off, and John explained.

Freddie frowned. “Yes, that is rather unlike him. And he’s utterly miffed, constantly. Looks about as cross as a cat caught in a rainstorm. Has done for fucking weeks.”

“Yes…” John folded his arms over his bass. “It’s got to stop. We’re not getting anything done.”

“We need to start working on the next album, and with him in this state, he won’t write anything of use,” said Freddie in agreement. “His muse is sadness, not anger.”

“That makes one of us,” I grumbled. “Gimme his guitar and I’ll write you a song, right here and now.”

“I would, darling,” Freddie sighed, “except that you’d probably destroy it, and you know he never lets it out of his sight anyway.”

“Hmph.”

Deacy ran a hand through his hair. “We have to intervene.”

“Mm,” said Freddie. “There’s only room in this band for one hysterical queen.”

“Any ideas?” Deacy asked. “Freddie?”

“Not a thing, dearie. Got enough troubles of my own, right now.”

“Rog?”

I was about to shake my head, no, when I remembered a trick I’d pulled on two of my mates back in school, years ago.

I smiled. “Oh yes. I’ve got a plan.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: I definitely wrote Joan and Paulie to resemble John Lennon and Paul McCartney, oops :)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @hgmercury39 @stardust-killer-queen @topsecretdeacon

Masterpost / Part 6 / Part 8

#tina’s writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #fic

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georgemackayhey · 4 years ago

Text

Rules For Falling In Love: #2

summary: In which George wants to get married. But… you’re not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: The love for this fic has really made my heart ache in all the best ways! I hope yall love this update and I look forward to all your feedback of any and all kinds, as always ♡

w/c: 2k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You had a week from hell, one where you seemed to live and breathe your work against your will. When you were free to do as you pleased, all you wanted was to do was absolutely nothing.

When you got home to find George seemed to have been waiting there all afternoon like a puppy, you rolled your eyes, entirely too exhausted to consider having fun. But before you had the chance to give that speech, George ushered you to the sofa.

"The last season, it's starting right now." He explained, turning the volume up on the telly that was already on. The show in question was one of those horrifically trashy ones. A silly little show you both got hooked on when you had the same cold, nowhere to go, and nothing else to watch. Now you needed to know what happened next.

The days weren't always like this. Between the years, you'd drifted apart from each other, floating back together for odd dinners and weekend getaways. It wasn't even like this when you started living together. But it seemed like in the blink of an eye you were spending more and more free time side by side, planning more than a few shared breakfasts and rainy afternoons.

Nights like these were expected by now, and you realized you'd be amiss if they ended anytime soon. George had called off dating some year or two ago, shaken by the Hollywood scene and the popularity contest he seemed to be in on, during films and even off set, in local shops he'd gotten recognized in. You'd forgotten that dating was a part of social life, far too preoccupied with your work and the plans you always had with George after hours to get to know anyone new.

It all made too much sense. So when the first commercial break kicked in and George passed the snacks he was holding over to you, as if he just remembered you were there, you spoke up.

"I'll do it."

You took the snacks, holding George’s eyes as his searched yours. You knew that he knew what you were agreeing too. Just when you thought he was about to speak, the show came back on and both of your focuses shifted entirely on the screen. You hadn't known what to expect... But the way everything seemed so vastly normal, sort of jarred you.

And for the next couple of days... neither of you talked about it at all. Sure you're busy with work and George had been fretting over a couple of important telephone interviews. But you thought surely he'd be more anxious to discuss logistics, or bring up the subject he invented, at all.

It wasn't until the next weekend, that the conversation picked up where it left off, again.

You'd spent the early Sunday morning roaming through the storefronts of an overpriced market. You ducked inside to relish the air-conditioned sales before dipping back out every few feet to admire the booths full of flowers, handcrafted gifts, and expensive decor. You'd buy absolutely everything here if you could.

You did have a mission. It was to pick up something to bring to dinner, a Sunday evening tradition with George's family. You'd been invited for as long as you could recall, and you'd never shown up empty-handed. Usually, flowers and desserts did just fine. But you were entirely too indecisive over what to purchase, this morning.

You'd become lost in a conversation with a woman who sold soaps and lotions, locally and expensively made. You rambled with her for so long that you'd lost sight of the person you'd come here with.

When you spun away from the lady selling soaps as new customers flocked closer to inspect her products, and you went on the hunt for George. You spotted him from behind, leaning in to speak with a vendor nearer inside. And just as you start to drift in his direction, he noticed you, too, through the crowd. And as the people part and you're nearly toe to toe, George doesn't greet you like usual.

There is no jab about where you'd been missing for so long, there isn't even a hello. Instead, you watch as George's smile grows mischievous, before bending at the knee.

Between his thumb and finger is a ring, just your unique style. It's from the booth he knelt in front of now, where hundreds of other delicate and novel jewels were displayed.

"What's all this then?" You laughed, standing in front of the guy you'd known longer than how to do simple maths.

"Marry me?" George asked, for the hundredth time, it seemed. You hadn't ever expected the question. But after this week, it came again at long last. You wondered if he'd ever bring it up again. But this time was different. This time, he smiled softly and held a real promise in his hand, looking up to you with a squint to block out the sun.

"I suppose I will." You grinned, answering quietly as George beamed up at you.

A couple of old ladies gasped from a couple of steps away, turning to watch on as George rose to his feet, grabbing your hand with both of his.

"Thank you, y/n. I cant wait." He said as if he'd been planning this for longer than he'd been pestering you about it.

"Why, we're practically already married." You laughed, mocking the statement he kept returning back to over the weeks. You watched as George slid the ring on your finger, with a pretty little design you couldn't have chosen better if you tried.

"Kiss her!" One of the elder spectators demanded like she was watching a wrestling match and coaxing on the fighters.

"I suppose I should," George remarked, mocking you, from moments ago. When he dipped down to place a teasing, chaste kiss on your lips, the old ladies cheered. When you swatted his arm with a playfully furrowed brow, the old ladies grumbled, completely let down by the way you ruined the moment.

"Don't blow it, Mackay. Go pick one for yourself, now." You warned your friend who was already giving you a playful smirk as you pointed to the collection of rings he was meant to choose from.

He found the perfect band, with specks and flecks that matched your own. And he liked it, best of all. The two of you walked out of the shoppe with matching rings, in fits of laughter as you imagined all your friend's reactions.

To celebrate, you stopped at a stall selling frozen yogurt and ordered one big container; because it was extremely overpriced, and George didn't mind sharing, because according to him-

"We're official." George boasted, digging into the dessert as you walked back toward your neighborhood, enjoying the perfect morning weather.

"Not quite." You reasoned. "We've still gotta get the worst part over with."

"The worst part?"

"Throwing a faux wedding. Lying to our guests. Drawing far too much attention to ourselves. This feels so much more like a business interaction than an event. Not that I'm not glad to do business with you, of course." You laughed, stepping in time with your closest friend.

"We don't have to make it a whole big thing. I only asked to be married, not for a garish wedding. We could stick to signing a few papers and call it a day."

"Are you serious? I want you to be explicitly clear about what you want because whether we make it one or not, this is a big deal."

"I'm okay with it." George chuckled, forcing the frozen treat in your grasp for a turn. "Either way, we'll need some witnesses."

You grumbled, remembering he was right. You weren't ashamed to marry him. Only embarrassed at the slightest bit of misjudged attention, and worried that your decision would be mistaken for something it wasn't, by anyone you explained it too.

///

"I've forgotten to get something to bring! I've never not brought something to dinner." You panicked, feeling your pockets in a last-ditch effort to find something to keep the tradition alive. George let out a little chuckle as you stalled in his parent's driveway. You reprimanded him for not being just as panicked as you, but he just laughed harder as he reached for your hand.

"Well how about this time I bring you."

A new set of nerves danced on end when you remembered the ring on your finger. You'd walked into the entry of his parents lavish countryside home like clockwork, without a gift but with very big news. But even in the strange twist of events, the familiar setting and George's calming presence meant nothing was out of the ordinary. You were only making the decision to keep it that way. Surely everyone would understand.

As you waltzed further into the home, there was no grand greeting. His father was sat in the living room, focused on a game that flashed across the telly. He turned his smile to the pair of you just before shouting back at the team he was rooting for. George's mother was in the kitchen, and upon hearing the pair of you come in, started rambling about how dinner wasn't quite ready and how hectic her day was.

You and George stalled in the entry of the kitchen, sunbleached wallpaper and worn old furniture welcomed you. When George's mother turned from the stove with a huff and a hand on her hip, she glanced between you and her son and asked why you were both just standing there.

"Has something happened?" She asked in a grave low tone.

George glanced to you as if to ask you for permission to say something. Or maybe to warn you he was about to, anyway. You knew it was best to rip the bandaid off. So you gave the smallest nod and held your breath.

With a look across the way to his father clicking the telly off in perfect time, George made his announcement.

"We're getting married!"

Despite George's sound excitement and the glowing smile on his face, his mother let out a breath with a hand to her heart.

"Oh thank God, I thought someone had died." She explained, reaching back to turn a knob on the oven. Her relief was comical, and just as she spoke up, you realized all the excitement you'd expected, was stored away in the girl bounding down the stairs.

George's sister nearly tripped over herself as she squealed into the room. You might have wanted to plug your ears, but the girl bound your way, babbling incoherently, grabbing your hand to see the ring she expected to see there.

"I knew it. I can't believe this day has come but I knew it would." She gasped like she'd just become a billionaire, as if her very own dreams had just come true. George's father sauntered closer, glancing at your ring with a pleased hum, offering a simple and pleasant congratulations on his way to steal a bit of dessert before dinner.

"So now I can finally expect some grandchildren, yeah?" George's mother shuffled toward the cabinet full of wine, a place she only searched through when the very best and worst news hung heavy over your weekly dinner parties.

"I don't think that's possible." You choked out in a hurry, as George's sister dropped your hand, spinning to face her brother who was holding back wild laughter at your expense.

"You can always adopt, dear." His mother pushed, spinning back to the oven when it dinged. George was in the middle of explaining your plans to his sister, who was shaking her head in disapproval.

"No! No way will I stand by and watch you get married without throwing a party. Can't we talk about a big white wedding? Oh please." She turned to you with big pleading eyes.

"No, no no no. I can't do that. I'd pass out before saying I Do and what's the point of that? We're just gonna get it done." You pointed.

"I'll just see about that." She stormed deeper into the kitchen at the sound of her mother asking her for help finishing your traditional Sunday meal.

"I'll try and thwart her plans to decorate the register's office with rose petals." George brought his hands to your shoulders with a smile you shared, as he led you to the table. His parents argued over what bottle of wine to open, while his sister went on making plans of her own, just for you. Normalcy remained.

///

"You two cannot be serious." Dean sat slack-jawed across a high tabletop in your very favorite pub. He'd barely touched his scotch, but you and George were on your second round of drinks you'd been downing while waiting on your friend to show up to tell him the news.

"Who else would we ask, Dean? You're our third wheel." You laughed, leaning in to shout past the music overhead. You'd already told George's family and asked his sister to be one of your witnesses. The girl was more excited than you and George for your big day. Dean was the only other person you could imagine inviting along, whose presence wouldn't make you break out into a nervous sweat.

"No, I mean you can't be serious about getting married!" Dean laughed, keeping his wide, dark eyes boring into yours.

"We've already worked most everything out. Will you please come?" George leaned in closer, taking his turn at coaxing his best pal into being there for the two of you.

"Yeah, fine," Dean softened, his smile reaching his eyes. "But I'm bringing a cake. Not to celebrate, but to stress eat." The fellow raised his glass in a silly toast. You laughed as you clinked your glasses together, then swiftly ordered another round.

"Well I don't want to steal your thunder but I've been meaning to tell the both of you something..." Dean shifted in his seat as you and George settled into a quiet focus on your friend.

"I've been seeing someone. Only been out a couple of times, but I quite like her already" Dean explained, a blush creeping under his eyes. George encouraged his friend to tell everything about the girl he'd been dating. You urged Dean to bring her around some time, thrilled at the prospect of having a fourth wheel to join in your nights of fun.

As Dean went on telling the tale of his first date with his new girl, your drinks came.

"Won't you miss dating around?" Dean seemed to worry, after thanking the waiter for his drink.

"I haven't missed it this far." You shrugged, sipping your fresh cocktail all the while. As free as you'd been till now, the thought of getting to know someone new, letting your guard down, building trust, just thinking of it all exhausted you.

When George leaned over you to accept his new drink, he flashed the waiter a tipsy smile.

"We're getting married!" He chuckled, and you did too. As you two broke into drunken giggles, the waiter offered unimpressed congratulations. Dean slammed back his new order in time to ask for another; either to catch up with you and George or to deal with the pair of you, you couldn't tell.

───※ ·❆· ※───

taglist: @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @andux @imaginationandlove @velvetgoldsilver @queen-bunnyears @maria-josefin @dearevansamham @belledamsceno @nilletellsstories @haileymorelikestupid @loulouloueh @visionsofmelodrama

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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