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angelsswirl · 4 years ago

Text

Petrichor

Nine

Notes: I highly recommend you listen to What If by SafetySuit either before reading or while reading because it fits this chapter so perfectly it took me half an hour to choose which lyrics to use.

"If it makes you sad at me, then it's all my fault and let me fix it please."

"You know your problems won't go away if you hide from them, right?" Lisa asked without looking up from her magazine.

"You know Tiger Beat is a child's magazine, right?" You asked without looking up from your spot on the floor.

Lisa closed the magazine loudly. She huffed and crossed her arms, "As soon as this baby gets out of me, I'm kicking your ass."

"Then who's going to feed Jennie while you're in the hospital recovering from your injuries?"

"I can feed myself, thank you very much."

"I'm not sure you know your left from your right sometimes."

"You're mean when you're scared and upset." Jennie's nose scrunched up. She is not afraid to admit her feelings were a bit hurt. She knew her left from her right, but she was definitely lying about being able to feed herself. She can't cook to save her life.

"I'm not scared or upset."

"You're a pathological liar, too."

"Ladies, ladies you're all pretty! Now, will you shut your traps. My blood pressure is spiking because all of your damn yapping."

"Sorry, mom." Everyone apologized. Even Kameron, who hadn't even been in the original conversation.

All five of you were packed into the medium sized hospital room, save for George whom had to return to work that day.

You sat the closest to your mother, Jennie and Lisa sharing the small cushioned bench built under the window. Kameron sat in an extra plastic chair directly under the suspended 19 inch television, his laptop on his lap currently being used to hack into the hospital's wifi.

"Y/N, apologize for calling Jennie stupid." Maria admonished as she fiddled with the television remote. The buttons were huge, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the hospital seemed to have only two working channels. Fox News and...oh, the other one just lost signal. Just Fox News.

Maria opted for turning off the television.

"I rather not." You answered plainly. Your knees were tucked under your chin and you still stared at that spot on the linoleum floor.

Maria swatted your thigh.

"Y/N Ariel Y/LN."

You just grumbled.

"Your middle name is 'Ariel'? Like the mermaid?" Jennie started to laugh loudly. She immediately stopped upon the shoe hitting her square in the gut.

"No. Not like the mermaid, Knothead." You gestured for Jennie to give back your shoe. Jennie did so with a scowl.

"Why is she being so mean?" Lisa pouted.

Maria huffed, "Her heat's about to start. So, she's grumpy. Also, she got herself into a unforgiving situation and it's all starting to unravel in front of her." Maria looked as though she had even more explanation to give but thought better of it.

You eyed your mother suspiciously, "How'd you know all that?"

"Mother's intuition."

Lisa's eyes squinted in determination, "Time for 'Operation: Just Pick One! Damn!'."

Everyone nodded along in agreement except for you.

"I've got the Pros and Cons T-Table pulled up!" Kameron gestured to his laptop. Lisa gave him a thumbs up.

You stared at your omega brother, "What do you know about any of this?"

"Oh, Lali and I talk once a week about you because you don't tell us anything. We were going to stage an intervention within the coming week if all of this hadn't happened." He said as though it was obvious.

You just rolled your eyes. Your brother knowing your business was the least of your problems at this point.

"Okay, but if we're going to have this conversation, Jennie has to leave."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're an alpha and you wouldn't get it."

"Try me."

"...Fine."

Lisa clapped excitedly, "Yay! It's finally happening. Kam, make sure you share the spreadsheet with your mom and I." She pulled her MacBook air out of large handbag and then delicately placed Maria's laptop on her overbed table.

Kameron nodded just as excitedly. Maria also nodded appreciatively as the group got their data together.

You wondered when your life got this out of hand.

At least Jennie looked just as lost as you.

"Um, babe? Is all of this necessary? I think you're scaring-"

"Shhhhhh, honey," Lisa blindly pressed a few fingers against Jennie's lips, "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"...ok..." Jennie looked to you with a mildly frightened look on her face. She shook her head slowly as if to say 'I tried. I am so sorry for what you're about to go through."

"Okay. First question! Who have you thought of more recently?" Kameron asked as he typed furiously on his HP.

"I'm not sure what any of this is going to help."

"Answer the question!" Kameron urged.

"God! I'm thinking about them both constantly, but I guess, Rosé because I spoke to her last."

Kameron nodded resolutely and continued to type.

"Next question, if they were both drowning, and you could only save one, who would you save?" Lisa asked, her eyes narrowing intensely at her best friend.

"Jennie, do you feel like this is a trap? Because I feel like this is a trap!" You inquired. You scooted your chair further away from everybody.

Jennie slowly pulled her arm from behind her wife, she then scooted away from her and to the opposite end of the bench, "Yes. This feels exactly like a trap."

"Okay, you don't have to answer that one." Maria glared at Lisa who just shrugged.

"How about this one? Who do you miss the most?"

You threw your hands in the air in exasperation, "Lali asked me that months ago! Don't you think if it was that simple I wouldn't be in this situation right now?! I miss both of them because they won't fucking talk to me! And I don't blame them. I wouldn't want to talk to me either." You sat back into your chair with a watery sigh.

"Can I give it a try?" Jennie raised her hand sheepishly, "Without all the spreadsheets and interrogations." She directed the second part at three specific people.

The three specific people all reluctantly closed their laptops.

"Everyone else is, so why not?"

"Well, first. I think you need to lay off yourself a bit. Yeah, you put yourself and them into a sucky situation, so what? Get over that. There's no going back to change anything, so why wallow in it? Relax and forgive yourself." Jennie spoke softly, her forearms resting against her thighs as she leaned forward.

Your shoulders sagged just enough to let Jennie know she was getting through to you.

"I'm sure you know what traits you value in a partner, and I'm not going to ask you what those traits are because I'm sure Lisa would start to log your answers again. Besides, it's none of our business." Lisa glared at Jennie.

"You just have to apply those traits. Organize your morals which you have clearly been fast and loose with lately. Ask yourself questions like 'Are you really ready to be a family woman? A mother?' And 'Are you okay with your mate having her work really high on her priorities list?' Think about what you want. Think about what you need. Think about who would be the best alpha for you. And then when you have all those answers to all those questions and you're all thinked out. Stop thinking and just go talk to her." Jennie smiled softly as you nodded slowly.

Lisa stared at her wife, her mouth wide opened, "I have absolutely no idea why, but that was the sexiest thing you have ever done." Jennie blushed heavily.

"Yeah, Jen. When did you get to be so smart?" You teased.

"I have a B.S. in Biochemistry from NYU." Jennie deadpanned.

"Yeah but you're a lounge singer. It's not like you're doing anything with it."

"Alright, you got me there."

"Knock, knock. Hello, Mrs. Y/LN. Your discharge papers are ready." The doctor explained as she stood at the door, not wanting to intrude.

"Oh thank God! I was going to jump out the window if it had been another hour."

"Mom!"

"What? You would've too. Now shut up and help me into my clothes."

You did as told.

~•~

Once you were sure your mother was settled at her home with your father. You went back to yours.

You sat heavily on your couch.

Jennie said to think. So, that's what you were going to do.

In the back of your mind, you knew who it was supposed to be the minute Jennie finished talking.

Sometimes, you just need to be told to get over yourself and put things into perspective.

But you chugged on anyway.

If only to double, triple check.

Some thoughts involve Jennie's suggested quandaries and others you came up with all by yourself.

It's about 5 minutes in that you're already noticing a very clear pattern. The same name keeps coming up. Amid 'Yes' and 'Nos' and 'We're just going to have to work on thats'.

It hit you so harshly you're not even sure why this was a struggle to begin with. The revelation just about sucks all the nagging anxiety and subsequent energy out of your brain. This must have been the "thinked out" part Jennie was talking about.

That meant the next step was to stop thinking.

It's easier said than done, but you managed.

The last step.

Just go talk to her.

You nodded with finality.

You were going to do just that, but first you needed to fix something.

~•~

"I'm sorry." You said. You may be done feeling sorry for yourself, but that didn't mean you couldn't feel sorry for others.

"For what?"

"It-I can't keep doing this to you. It's not fair."

"I-I understand, I guess."

"I shouldn't have led you on. Made you think-"

"It's okay, Y/N. It really is. But I'm going to need some time before we can get back to normal if I can ever do that, with you again."

"I get it. I'll see you...later?"

You don't get an answer. Just a pained look and then a sort of wobbly shrug.

You have a feeling that's all you'll get from her for a while. And surprisingly, you're a little more okay with that then you thought you would be.

~•~

Notes: One more chapter left...

#jesssica's fanfic #blackpink fanfic #blackpink #jisoo fanfic #jisoo x reader #petrichor #rose fanfic #rose x reader #abo

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chanquill · 4 years ago

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⋉ aмor odιѕѕe ⋊

aмor odιѕѕe; тнe love тo нaтe

A/N: yes. we’re PG in this household so no swears, only creative insults. those, and those only.

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: none, but creative insults???

Rating: PG

Genre: Fluff, Angst

──── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

Everyone on campus always thought that you and Chan would make the cutest couple; the King and Queen of Clé University, but they also knew that you two weren’t on the best terms. The smug-faced rat in question was always right behind you, whether it be handing in assignments, test scores or even standing in queue. Whenever you turned around you felt those condescending eyes searing into your skin. “Ugh!” you exclaimed, ”JESUS CHRIST I WISH THAT COCKY LITTLE SWINE WOULD STOP IT. HE’S SO ANNOYING!”

Your best friend Jisung patted your shoulder and tried to reassure you, telling you that it was going to be okay and that it’ll all get better. “‘Sung, I swear there are a couple of screws that aren’t put in right in your head. What the hell are you on about I-“ Before you could finish your sentence, a hand cupped around your mouth from the back and muffled your cries. “WHAT THE- JISUNG, THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” you protested, peeling the hand off your face. As you turned around, you began to realise that the hand that cupped your face didn’t belong to Jisung, much to your dismay. It was the one person you really, really didn’t want to see at that moment. It was Chan, his trademark smirk plastered across his infuriatingly perfect face. You rolled your eyes in disgust and asked, “What?! What do you want now? Do you want me to fall at your feet and grovel? You want me to give you my notes?”

His smirk faltered a little, but returned to its original state as quickly as you had seen it waver. “Well, you see, I wanted to ask you something, but I can see that I’m not welcome right now (or at any other time actually) so...I’ll just...leave? Bye.” Sighing, you grabbed onto his hand with both of yours, pulling him back towards you and Jisung, who was still staring at you and Chan with his mouth open in disbelief. “Fine...FINE. Okay, fine I’ll hear you out. Just don’t pull another kidnapper move like that and you’ll be fine, okay?”

He took a deep breath and slipped his long, slender fingers out of yours, overworked and covered in plasters. “Um, so... basically...I uh... c-can we study together? I’m having t-trouble with this particular part of code and i’m not sure what’s wr-wrong with it. Can y-you help? Please?” The stuttering mess stood in front of you wasn’t the Chan you knew. The one you knew was the arrogant little son of a seahorse-faced cashew, fricking little- You sighed and stroked his hand. “Okay buddy, what’s up? Is this your idea of a joke? Why are you shaking; what happened? Talk to me.” This wasn’t usually you; you never cared about him, and you thought you never would, yet here you were, putting your arm around Chan’s shoulders, guiding him to the nearest bench. After sitting him down and ruffling his hair, you took your water bottle out of your bad and handed it to him. “Here, drink some water.” He grimaced and looked at you weird. “Really? A Bokémon waterbottle? We both know that Migimon is better, right?”

“Are you going to drink the water or not, huh?” you snapped, aware that he was right. Turning your head to face Jisung, you mouthed, “Go! I’ll find you later! GO!!” and shooed him away. “Um so...What did you need help with then?” you asked Chan, “Also did you write the code in Javascript or Python?” You looked back at Chan, not expecting his deep brown eyes, now filled with worry and warmth. He inched closer to you, returning your water bottle to your bag and sighed in relief. “T-thank you, y/n, and uh, I wrote the code in Python,” he mumbled, still occasionally stuttering and stumbling on his words. “Hm okay. Meet me at the library in an hour. I’m just going to drop my bags off at my place and I’ll be back, okay?” You were just getting up to leave when Chan grabbed your hand and pulled you back down, turning your head with one hand, while holding you down with the other. You knew he went to the gym regularly (unfortunately, you had encountered him enough times at the on-site gym to know), BUT BOY WAS HE STRONG. “Uhhhh...Chan?” you asked, unpleasantly surprised, “You need something?” With a puppy-like glint in his eye, he said, “Let me drop you off! Where do you live?” You were puzzled but...something felt wrong about turning him down, and as much as you wanted to refuse, your body somehow urged you to accept. “Fine, I guess...,” you trailed off, unaware of the events that were about to unfold.

————————————————————

As he drove up to the house, you slowly took off your seatbelt and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Give me 20...actually no, you can come in. You wanna come in?,” you asked, not too sure of what to expect. Chan nodded and grinned, a sight you were startled to see.

“Is he usually like this? Am I the one being mean? Oh my god. What if I’m the one being mean. Oh frick oh frick oh frick oh frick. Wait, hang on, AM I IMAGINING THINGS?! Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. C a l m. I am CALM. Wait but-“ you thought to yourself, trudging up the stairs to your apartment. You pulled a key out of your pocket and jammed it into the keyhole. “I- Wait, wait, I swear this was the right key. Hang on-“ This was not going well. Welp. Chan couldn’t hate you any more than he did already so... oh well. After jiggling the key around for a while, Chan offered to open door for you. With a strange mastery, Chan jammed the key into the hole and turned it while pushing it in. Click. “HANG ON A DAMN MINUTE- I’VE BEEN LIVING HERE FOR WHAT? OVER 8 MONTHS NOW? AND I CAN’T EVEN OPEN MY OWN DOOR??? BUT THIS GUY- FRICKING ALMOST 6 FOOT WORM- HE JUST MANAGED TO CLICK IT OPEN???” you wondered to yourself, trying to suppress a scream inside of you. He cracked a smile. “There, the door’s open now, just had to give it a little strength,” he proclaimed, “I’m happy to help any time.” With a humoured look on your face, you pushed Chan into the apartment and locked the door behind you. You threw yourself on the couch and sighed, you didn’t usually invite people in, especially not people you hated.

One of your roommates, Ryujin, walked in, drinking yet another bubble tea. You turned to face her and gave her a long, hard stare. “I swear you run on bubble tea and that’s not healthy, you know? I swear if you get diabetes from the amount of sugar you consume, I’m not coming to funeral because I warned you,” you sighed, massaging your temples. Ryujin stopped sipping on her tea and sauntered up to you, “Sir, whether I’m addicted to boba or not, I’m still the crazy (but cool) kid that you picked up in middle school. You’re never getting rid of me. Ever. And anyway, who’s this guy?” she asked, gesturing to Chan, “Your boyfriend? If so, damn girl, you have TASTE.” You and Chan blushed in unison and started muttering excuses. You stood up, still embarrassed, and stuttered put something along the lines of, “Y-yeah I’m going to go ch-change and I’ll be b-back, okay? Chan, you can sit down, ‘Jin, get him s-some water or juice or w-whatever.” You ran into your room, and quietly slammed the door behind you. “FKSJKDS SHIN RYUJIN YOU’VE REALLY DONE IT THIS TIME I- GAHHHH I CAN’T EVEN DENY THAT HE’S PRETTY- GOD FRICKING DAMN IT!” you thought to yourself, throwing on the closest set of comfortable clothes you could find.

Opening your door ever so slightly, you made eye contact with Ryujin and hissed at her to come over. From across the living room, she shrugged and made her way to you in the least inconspicuous way possible; ‘accidentally’ knocking over a lamp, tripping over Chan and almost spilling her tea. “Ryujin why would you- BRUH THAT’S NOT COOL! YOU DON’T JUST ASK US IF WE’RE TOGETHER! HE’S CHAN. AS IN THE GUY I HATE. YES, THAT GUY!” you exclaimed with an air of exasperation. “U-uh huh. Keep going, you aren’t fooling anyone. This. This is peak whipped behaviour. Face it, y/n, you have a lil pash. oOoOohHh THINK OF THE BLACKMAIL MATERIAL; THERE’S TEA TO LAST ME MONTHS, LITERALLY!” Ryujin made kissy faces and walked back into the kitchen after announcing that she was the official third wheel and no one, not even Lord Changbin himself, could stop her. And the worst part was that you knew deep, down inside, that you really had taken a liking to that raw salmon. Well, it was more of a pash. A strong pash.

You waved your hand and choked. “pSh, ‘Jin’s got nothing on me, I don’t have a small crush on THAT guy; hell, I don’t even like him as an acquaintance...maybe-“ You were confused but nonetheless walked out of your room with fake confidence.

————————————————————

Sitting down next to Chan, you pulled out your laptop from your bag, a pretty new Macbook, plastered with stickers of Stray Kids, a new and upcoming group that hadn’t debuted yet. Chan had a slight bewildered-but-shocked-but-proud expression on his face that was quickly wiped off as you told him to show you his code so far.

————————————————

Both you and Chan had spent hours and hours finishing the project, and it seemed as if it would never end, but at long last came a sigh of drained relief from Chan. He threw his laptop onto the cherry wood coffee table. And leant back into the sofa, a soft murmur of fatigue muttered. You stood up and glanced at the clock by the door, rubbing your eyes to make sure you hadn’t read it wrong; it was one in the morning. That’s right, you and your not-so-much-enemy-anymore had spent all night working on some code. Some stupid code. “Chan? It’s uh...it’s one am. And I’m pretty sure the dorms won’t be open now, and even if they were, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t let you in, considering the grisly state you’re in, at the moment. I really would let you crash this one time, but uh, where would you sleep??? CHAN GET UPPPPPP!” you urged, a small part of begging him to stay. Brushing those thoughts away, you started stepping over Chan to get to your room, when he grabbed your hand pulled you back down. But not back to where you were sitting, oh no no no, he pulled you down to his lap. Wrapping his arm around you, he begged to stay the night. “We can stay like this forever, if you want to. Do you want you?” you joked. “Absolutely,” replied Chan, a slight beam coming across his face, “Good Night.”

──── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

END.

A/N: hM yeah okay, i could’ve done better but y’know. i’m satisfied. thank you for reading!

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #bang chan #chan #bang chan imagines #skz fanfic #kpop fluff #stray kids fluff #chanquill #.hershiewrites

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hellohellohellobingmetropcs · 5 years ago

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Zion huffed as he rolled over out of bed, getting ready to start his day. Without even a kiss or a 'goodbye' he made his exit from your shared home out into the world for his daily adventures.

"Lexi I'm pregnant" you whispered to your friend over FaceTime on your MacBook.

"What?!"

"I went to the doctors yesterday and got the results. I don't even know what to do"

"What did Zion say?"

"He doesn't know"

"You have to tell him. This is huge! Omg I'm so excited to be an auntie"

With an hours worth of convincing your best friend Alexis had you anticipating Zion's arrival to let him know the big news.

You had gotten up to do your daily morning routines. Before showering you pried the now squeezing wedding ring from your left ring finger that'll always remind you of the vows you and Zion stated in front of family and friends two years ago.

You settled for a bowl of cereal and Netflix for breakfast, eventually falling asleep with the time passing.

Between then and now Zion had made his way back home. Stopping in the bathroom to pee he noticed your ring on the sink. 'How careless of you? It could've fallen down the drain' he thought to himself.'

You woke up to Zion rambling at the door of the bed. Yawning and stretching yourself back to reality you soon realized what the fuss was all about when your eyes landed on the ring in his hand.

"Why the hell would you take it off? You know what I don't really care" he scoffed, dropping it on the tv stand.

"If you don't care why'd you ask?"

"What's your problem lately?"

"Me? Zion you pick fights with me over little shit. Yesterday I was too exhausted to make dinner so I was gonna order our food and you got all pissy"

"Ok that's one thing. (Y/N) you've been secretive lately. I feel like it's something you're keeping from me?"

"Mind your business"

"Your business became mine when you said I do"

"Sometimes I wish I hadn't said it" you chuckled bitterly, going for your car keys and cellphone.

"Where are you going? Stop running everytime shit gets bad"

You paid him no mind knowing that if you'd stay you'd say some things you'd regret.

Zion plopped down on the bed, trying to collect his thoughts on maybe why you'd taken the ring off. Your anniversary was coming up in less than a month but here you were arguing about a piece of jewelry.

The ringing of your MacBook caught him off guard before opening it to your best friend Alexis on the other side of the screen.

"Oh hey Zion"

"Hey Lexi"

"Where's (y/n)?"

"I don't know" he shrugged. "She left after we got into an argument but it's her fault"

"Fuck you mean you don't know? Stop acting like you don't care before it's too late"

"If she doesn't care why should I?"

"Zion stop treating my bestie like shit .. She's fucking pregnant and stressing her isn't helping. I swear if you don't find her tonight I'll—"

"(Y/N)'s pregnant?", his heart fell to his ass repeating that to himself. Never thought the day would come that he'd be saying he's a dad or even have a wife. Before meeting you the whole concept of marriage was overrated in his mind. In no way did you try to change his opinion but see how much he loves you he wanted to give you that fairytale ending you'd always dreamed of.

"Yes she's pregnant and you didn't hear this from me. I'm serious"

"Who else knows?"

"I think only me. Well you now too. Act surprised when she tells you!"

He shut the laptop, heading out to his car to find you. Luckily for him you had shared your location last night and forgot to turn it off. The current pin showed you were at a hotel just a few miles down the road.

"Did you see a woman about this tall, hair this long, cute face? I-I'm just trying to find my wife" he stammered over his word to the concierge.

"Cute face, huh? Seen one of those check into room 334"

He nodded, taking the elevator up to the third floor. "Open up baby I'm so sorry. It's me, Zion"

"I leave home to get away from you and follow me? How much more toxic could you get?" You rolled your eyes, walking away from the now opened door.

"Baby, you right and I know it. When you left I just had to step back for a moment for analyze myself as your husband. I haven't been treating as I should've. My mind has been racing lately and I just need you to hold me and all of my broken fuckups until I can get it right"

Hearing you were right for once was like a breath of fresh air. It was usual of Zion to smother you in 'I told you so's after proving his point.

"I'm so sorry how I've been treating you. I'm just stressed from the constant work schedule. I was so wrong for taking that out on you baby"

You plopped down on the king size bed trying not to burst into tears. Everything from the simplest apology, your news, the recent fights all have been building up into this moment.

"you mean the world to me— when I seen your ring on the sink I thought you took it off because you were done with me or something so I snapped"

"Next time talk to me instead of accusing me" you said hastily, "Zion it's been fight after fight and I'm tired"

Truth be told the new pregnancy has been making you sleep heavier, draining your energy, even had you gaining weight and it's only been 8 weeks. The ring feels way tighter than before so the thought of putting it on a necklace until you dropped the weight became a priority in your head.

You reached for the mini bottle of red wine provided by room service, “How did you find me?"

"Are you about to drink that?" His voice shook as he took closer steps to you.

Everyone knew you and Zion to be that lit couple that always sparked a little something or drank a little more than the rest so to see him question you about a $6 travel size bottle of red wine flicked a switch in your mind.

There's no way he couldn't not know of the pregnancy by now. Why else would he worry if you consume liquor that was only gonna get you a little buzzed?

"You know ?.." you whispered, putting the bottle back on the nightstand in its original ice bucket. "Lexi told you. I wanted to tell you myself"

"Don't be mad at her baby. You left your laptop and she kept calling so I answered it and she cursed me out and then it accidentally slipped out"

"Well" you shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Zion to prepare yourself for the worst. "Zion I'm sorry. You have a lot going on and we’re not in the best spot and now this"

As a wife your main focus was being his peace. When he felt sad or stressed you wanted to be the first person he came to. Thinking the pregnancy was just added stress you decided to keep it from him until you made up your mind.

"Hey hey hey don't be sorry" he reached out cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear rolling down. "We're gonna have a beautiful baby that we're gonna love so much and you're gonna be the best mommy"

"You wanna keep it?", Zion never struck you, or anyone else for that matter, as a person that cared for kids. Of course you'd always wanted a family but you were willing to wait for him.

"Of course. I mean it's your decision but—"

"Our decision. That'd be selfish of me to not include your feelings. If a baby is what you want then that's it. We're gonna be parents Z"

Maybe a baby was the missing piece to your relationship.

You extended your arms happily embracing his torso into your face.

"I love you (y/n)"

"I love you too Z"

Masterlist

#zion kuwonu x reader #zion kuwonu imagines #prettymuch imagines

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bananashemmo · 5 years ago

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But I’ve Got You This Rose (Part 2)

Pairing: Y/N/Hockey!Luke

Rating: NC-17

Request: Yes, Indeed!

Words: 6.500+

Summary: College has never been easy and not after Luke and Y/N have broken up after being everyone’s sweethearts. Life isn’t easier for Y/N when she drunkenly sleeps with him after months apart.

“You sure you don’t want one? You look like someone who could need it.” Calum’s raspy voice filled through the clouds of smoke that escaped from his lips.

Luke’s eyes narrowed towards the cigarette, his left eyebrow furrowing, and he held a hand in the air in a sign of a no. He looked horrible but he didn’t want to cause himself to feel worse by the cancer stick.

He hated smoking. He had tried it once, or maybe twice. It was a habit of his when he was really drunk. That stage with alcohol where he felt as if nothing could harm him and everything he did was under his full control.

“Really? You look like you could dump your face into the pool any second.” Calum observed the blue-eyed boy’s features. He could tell when Luke was sad. Or when he was angry but didn’t want to say anything.

Luke shook his head in disbelief and wanted to tell Calum off. Though he decided to say heavily, look down at the ground and bite down on his lip so hard knowing that if he opened his mouth he wouldn’t stop speaking.

God, how he hated that you were only five feet away from him, sitting by one of the sun chairs and wearing the exact same expression on your face like he was.

When Luke woke up this morning, he knew he had a bad feeling. That kind of feeling that just wanted to keep him linked to the bed. Not having to wake up and go through the normal courses, consider whether or not wanting to skip hockey practice and just, in general, making breakfast.

It wasn’t often he was feeling like this. He was getting on a better track, taking day by day. He didn’t want to feel as affected as it sometimes could have been predicted. Let’s face it. It’s months ago, you broke up. It was time to move on. He had to move on by now.

“I could have told you that Y/N would be showing up but I thought you’d know. I mean, she didn’t quit the cheerleading squad even though rumors had spread it. I do understand her though. She has to watch her ex every time she goes to her favorite sport.”

“And you don’t think I feel the exact same way?” Luke didn’t want to spit at Calum, but his statement pissed him off.

Calum’s eyes widened and he raised his hands. He didn’t want to get on the bad side of Luke. Especially not when he was being like this.

“Of course, I know you feel the same way.” Calum’s eyes softened and so did Luke’s jaw.

“But I also know that you keep all of your feelings inside of you. Nobody knows just how well you’re feeling besides yourself because you don’t want to open up and talk about it. Realize it. Everyone will think you’re feeling better than her because that is what you show everyone. It’s only guys like me and the boys who know what’s up. Because we know you. And we can see right through you.”

Luke’s lips trembled as every word came out from Calum’s mouth. He didn’t speak harshly, but it was enough to hit Luke right in the feels where it felt hard. And somehow also overwhelming.

“It’s like trying to help an alcoholic who doesn’t want to realize his addiction.”

Luke’s eyes glanced down at the package that was wrapped around Calum’s tattooed hand. He knew it was a bad decision but every life decision he had felt bad. He never made a decision that didn’t feel as if he could have done something differently and better.

“Give me the cancer stick.”

He slumped down and took a step next to Cal on the porch. He had been leaning his long body against the rack of the stairs, not really settled for being outside or inside.

The party going on was insane. One of the biggest he had experienced here at campus. But something didn’t feel right, he felt as if he couldn’t enjoy himself. He had tried to get drunk but with his large body, it took quite some time. Also, after been working out a lot. It was basically the only thing he did besides sleeping and studying.

Calum watched him carefully lit the cigarette and try not to cough as he inhaled. It was a new sight every time Luke would be the one smoking. He always caused some sort of scene, never really wanting to realize that smoking wasn’t really his type of habit.

“Tell me everything you feel. Let it out. Sometimes that’s just easier than playing the tough guy.” Calum spoke carefully and dusted off the tobacco into the grass next to him.

Luke sighed heavily and looked into his half-filled red cup. It tasted horrible; he had no idea what it was. Michael mumbled something about Shirley mixed with a red soft drink.

But not as horrible as the cigarette between his long fingers. He didn’t understand how this could be relaxing. It was like inhaling a large cloud of smoke.

“You know the reason why we broke up and everything,” Luke leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a second. He hated thinking back to the moment. He hated reliving it.

Every time he would close his eyes and fall to sleep, images of that evening would appear. How angry he was, how everything felt so rushed and out of order. Sometimes he felt that it didn’t happen but then he was reminded of the cutting pain in his heart by reliving it in his nightmares.

“Yes, I know that story. I kind of witnessed it.” Calum nodded his head in agreement and looked at his best friend carefully.

He hated seeing Luke like this. The fun and the happy blond-haired boy who never left the smile on his face. Always light in the baby blue eyes and a burst of laughter that could fill an entire building. It was replaced with a dull look, something he couldn’t recognize in his friend.

“I’ve been trying my best to think that it was the right decision. I had a great time in the first week. I felt it was the right thing to do because sometimes we weren’t that happy together. We were in a constant battle with each other, constantly trying to avoid the fights that kind of chased us. I told her a few things I wanted her to get better at and vice versa. I just feel like we wanted each other to change so much we forgot that we had to do it ourselves in order to fulfill our dreams.”

Luke looked down at the cigarette as he was speaking. Slowly seeing the burning ashes fall down to the porch and turn into nothing.

“I keep trying to tell myself that you’ll end up where you need to be, with who you’re meant to be with and doing what you should be doing. But I feel as if nothing is going as I planned and I can’t help but feel alone every second that passes by.”

“But you’ve got all of us.” Calum understood his words but still wanted to remind that he was never alone.

“I know, I know,” Luke agreed and nodded his head, “But you’re not there when I sit alone in the shower, looking down at my feet and wondering why she’s not in the room next to me sitting on her MacBook and watching her favorite shows on Netflix.”

“I could be doing that if that’s what you want but I guess that’s not really the same,” Calum suggested carefully, folded his hands together and leaned forward with his elbows to his knees.

Luke glanced over at him with the face of ‘are you shitting me’ and went back to looking up at the stars.

“Healing is just so weird. Some days you’re okay and you’re doing fine. Other days it still hurts like it’s fresh. It’s a process with no definitive time frame.”

“But if you feel so sure about it being wrong, why don’t you just go back with her? Nobody is going to judge you for jumping right back to your ex. For the matter, everyone loved you two together.”

“Because I don’t think she can forgive me for putting her through these hells of months apart.” Luke wrapped his arms around his legs and looked towards where you were sitting, still alone and with what seemed to be an empty red cup.

He remembered how you used to be at parties. Never the one to be loudest, but always the one to be found by a classic game of beer pong or whatever activity. You were never the one to sit alone in a corner and if you did it would be because you would get cramps after drinking too much alcohol. And by that, you wouldn’t even be alone because his drunken self would sit by your side and hold your hand until you were ready to party again.

Being alone these couple of months made him realize so much. What he had lost and what was totally taken for granted.

“Why her, Luke?” Calum dusted the last bit of the cigarette into the grass and took the one between Luke’s fingers into his own.

There was no reason for Luke to smoke when he didn’t even like it. It was a fake pleasure that didn’t even have the right purpose.

Luke sighed carefully and looked at you again. He was wondering if you had noticed he was sitting five feet away. You looked drunk, but not enough to not realize what was going on around you.

“Because with her I don’t need to explain myself. I don’t need to worry about if she misunderstands me, if I say something stupid or if I’m judged. I can be careless with her, completely raw and real. That’s why her. That’s why always her.”

That was everything he wanted he wanted to say for tonight. There was no reason digging deeper into the shit. He shook his head in disbelief and looked down at his large black Nike hoodie which was a great attire for tonight as it was a little chilly.

“I’m glad you’re opening up. One day you might figure out what’s the right thing to do. Sometimes things take time healing properly.” Calum mentioned and they both looked towards where you were sitting as a guy had shown up.

“Who’s that?” Luke questioned quickly, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Can’t you tell? It’s Noah. Noah Martins. Are you that drunk that you can’t tell a team player you’re sharing an ice field with three times a week?”

“Oh my god, what happened to his hair?” Luke exclaimed quickly, glancing the boy up and down.

“I don’t know. I heard something about him really wanting to get under the skin of Camille and she likes guys with curls. So, I guess he got a permanent or something.”

Noah’s hair was indeed a curly mess compared to his previous hair that was straight. It was actually long, fit his tall and slim body. Just a sad thing he was a prick which most girls knew of.

“What is he doing with Y/N?”

Before Luke could get an answer from Calum, he watched Noah sit down by the sunbed next to yours. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could fill the worry start to fill his veins.

He didn’t like where this was going.

“Shouldn’t we get going? I think I promised Ashton a game of beer bowling by the garage?” Calum was trying to sound convincing but he couldn’t make Luke flinch.

“I don’t think he needs other players to nail a strike.” Luke was too caught up, he was barely listening to what Calum had to say.

“Luke, I think it’s best if you don’t do anything stupid… Right?” Calum just needed to be sure before he left. There was no point in convincing Luke to leave. He would probably be sitting by this porch to the end of the night.

Luke heard Calum’s steps but didn’t give a single glance over his shoulder. He was still holding the red cup, tempted to just drown the whole thing and forget about everything.

He looked over at you again with tight lips. What was he supposed to do in this situation? If you were having fun with him it was fine. It just didn’t look like it. You looked like someone who just wanted to shrug Noah off any second.

“Noah seriously,” Luke heard you faintly say, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t want to dance. Or kiss you for that matter. Why don’t you go find that brunette you were previously smashing your face into?”

Luke couldn’t hear what Noah’s answer was, but it was enough for him to place the red cup on the steps and stand up from his seat. He took a deep breath before placing his hands in his black jeans and approached you.

“Martins.” He didn’t want his voice to be loud or disturbing but just enough for Noah to hear.

Noah looked over his shoulder with a lifted eyebrow, glancing Luke up and down.

“You had your shot, Hemmings.” Noah commented, “If you regretted it, you probably shouldn’t have thrown your diamond into a trashcan.”

Luke rolled his eyes deeply by Noah’s drunken comment. His eyes glanced over to meet yours, but they were focusing on the ground.

“Is he bothering you?” Luke looked past Noah trying to get your attention.

You looked up from the ground to meet Luke’s baby blue eyes and you bit down on your bottom lip carefully. You didn’t want Noah to see or hear so you nodded your head slowly and that gave Luke the confirmation.

“You know the rules, Martins.” He reminded and crossed his arms.

“Yes, stay out of the other teammates’ ladies. But she’s not your lady anymore so claiming her to be must be a mistake on your behalf. Technically, she’s free on the market.”

“I’m serious Noah,” Luke watched him carefully but with fire in his eyes, “If you don’t leave her alone right now, I swear to god I’m going to do something as a captain I don’t want to.”

“You’re threatening to pull me off the team? Just because I admire your ex?” Noah was having a cocky smile on his face and you slowly stood up from the sunbed as they were almost in each other’s face.

“You don’t just admire her,” Luke spat, “You’re basically undressing her with your eyes.”

“Well, maybe she wants to undress in front of-,”

Luke couldn’t take another word from him. All the words built up his anger and before he knew of his actions, Noah was pushed into the pull. But not without grabbing you with him in the process.

Luke’s eyes widened by his sudden action, mouth open and watching as Noah quickly came up from the water with his tall frame and spit water out from his mouth. You, on the other hand, were splashing around trying to bring yourself to the surface.

“Seriously, Y/N.” He muttered to himself, “We dated for three years, I’ve taught you to swim countless times in my pool by my parents and you still don’t know how to swim!”

Ripping off his hoodie and pushing off his shoes he jumped into the water right next to you, quickly placed his hands on your hips and lifted your head above the water.

You were a coughing mess and mascara was running down from your eyes in black droplets. Your white t-shirt had become a transparent mess with your black lace bra showing and Luke pulled you close not wanting to give Noah a show.

“You’re crazy, Hemmings.” Noah spat and shook his head in disbelief, heading towards the stairs of the pool and disappeared from your sight.

You looked at Luke with wide eyes, still not fully processing what had just happened and glanced him up and down. His curls were sticking to his forehead and his eyes were a little less wide than before.

“Are you okay?” He asked carefully, slowly moving around because of the caused waves in the water.

You shook your head just as carefully, looking down at his hands still holding your hip so you wouldn’t have a drown to death experience again.

“I think I had too much to drink…” You mumbled and shrugged your shoulder. You probably looked ten times more horrible than what was intended to be shown. What a great evening not to wear waterproof makeup.

“And this was probably a bad idea to show up. Noah has been stuck to my ass since Monday morning. I don’t know what’s with him.”

Luke’s eyes scanned your face, barely registering what you had to say. So many thoughts were running through his mind he couldn’t keep up with it. It had been a while since the last time he was this close to you.

“Here,” He started to walk towards the edge of the pool and used his strength to pull you up and place you on the edge.

You were a dripping mess and your cheeks turned a deep shade of red when you noticed how obvious your bra suddenly was.

Covering them with your arms you watched Luke lift himself up from the pool, water running down his whole body and his jeans sitting much tighter than they already were. He ran a hand through his curly hair and tried to dry off his black tee just a bit.

He looked over at you for a short moment, catching you staring and reached forward to grab his black hoodie.

“Here,” He commented, reaching out for you to take it.

“But it will get wet.” You protested and stood up from the edge.

“I don’t care.” Luke spoke in honest and wiggled it in front of you. “You’re cold and you need it.”

You knew when Luke was being like this there wasn’t time for bugging. He was a stubborn one and you took the hoodie from him. You still had his old one at your dorm room, might just add another one to the collection.

“I can’t keep stealing your hoodies.” You mumbled while moving your head through the hole, feeling the warmness already and the smell of his cologne. What a surprise he still hadn’t changed from the Blue Ralph Lauren cologne.

“As long as you’re kept warm, you can.” He adjusted it on you just to make sure that everything was alright and he placed his hands on your shoulders to look at you.

“I’m taking you home okay. Just to sober you up.”

You were too tired to argue so you just agreed. You knew if you said no he would give you the eyes and you would eventually give in. He had such a convincing face he barely had to say a word to let you give in.

A small smile was playing on his face, an original one for once. It was obvious none of you wanted to be at this party. Maybe it was just better to go home and if you had to drink one more sambuca you would puke.

You felt as if everyone’s eyes were on you, and they probably were. Luke was looking like a drowned mess and you were all wet wearing a hoodie that was at least twice your size. You even managed to get eye contact with Camille, but she decided to stay quiet.

What was she even supposed to say in this situation?

On the whole way home, you stayed quiet. You felt the world was spinning, you weren’t sure if Luke was holding on hand on your hip to keep you steady. Everything felt like a blur and you looked confused when you were already in front of your dorm.

Luke flicked on the lights after fishing out your keys, easily managing to lock up the door. Not a surprise to anyone. He had walked through that door too many times he didn’t even have the count.

His eyes glanced towards the rose still placed in the vase that had been standing on your dinner table since god knows how long ago you got it from him.

He looked over at you to see you stare down at the ground.

“How did you manage to keep it alive?” He observed and placed his hands on the dinner table to take a closer look.

“I mean, you know I used to collect rose powder from the garden store your mum used to go to.” You shrugged your shoulders and caressed your arm out of nervous habit.

It was so weird seeing him in your room again. It was like all the memories were flushing back at once. Both the good and bad ones.

“You still have your obsessed cleaning?” He commented on the lack of mess there was in the room. The only thing that caught his attention was the glass on your coffee table in front of your couch.

“I’m not even as neat as I used to be.” You slurred and ran a hand through your wet hair.

You grimaced by the reminder of chlorine in your hair and you closed your eyes just for a second. You breathed in heavily, trying to figure out what was best to say or what to do. Nothing seemed to make sense at the moment.

“I think you need a shower,” Luke commented carefully, not wanting to be rude.

“I’m sorry your hoodie got wet.” You looked at yourself and mentally wished you wouldn’t spill chlorine water on the floor.

“I’d rather have it wet than you cold.”

You smiled by his words and pulled at the hem of the shirt.

“I think I’m just going to wash it for you. You can wear the other one you forgot the last time you followed me home.” You nodded your head towards the hoodie that was placed on one of your chairs.

“Thank you,” Luke whispered carefully and watched you head into the bathroom and close the door after you.

He breathed in heavily just like you previously had done and took a look around the dorm.

Nothing looked differently. He could still point out where the things were placed, he knew just exactly well which pillow was your favorite and which side of the bed you were sleeping at. He always had the right and you had the left.

He heard the water being turned on and placed his hands in his pockets which were still drowned and wet. God he couldn’t wait to get a shower himself.

He was caught up in his thoughts but when he heard soft whimpers his eyes were drawn to the bathroom.

He knew he shouldn’t. It wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his business anymore and to be honest he shouldn’t even be here in the first place. But he didn’t want to think how big of a mistake it was. For once, he felt he was doing something that felt unforced and natural.

Grabbing the handle, he opened the bathroom door slowly.

Wet clothes were scattered on the ground on top of the beige-colored bath mat. He looked carefully towards the shower where you were seated against the wall, water splashing down on your head. You were still wearing a top and your Calvin Klein panties.

He wasn’t sure if you had heard him. The water was loud, and he was always the quiet one.

The questions in his thoughts were answered when you glanced towards him, eyebrows furrowed for a second, but it was replaced with you hiding your face in your knees instead.

He sighed carefully.

“You look at me as if I look miserable.”

“You are miserable.”

Your mouth twisted into a straight line and you leaned your head against the wall again. The water wasn’t getting into your eyes, droplets creasing down from your cheeks. You didn’t want to lie but neither wanted to state the truth out loud.

“It’s hard Luke. You have no idea what kind of impact you have on someone. I’ve never experienced something harder than having to control your feelings, put them into a box and throw it at sea.”

Luke nodded his head and headed towards the front of the shower to take a seat down in front of you. He didn’t care if you were half-naked. It wasn’t the first time witnessing that.

“You don’t think I have a hard time as well?” He questioned and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Kind of weird considering this was your decision.” You didn’t want to come off as rude, but with alcohol, in your blood, you were having a hard time.

There was so much built up anger when you looked at him. He chose this.

“You know I hate when you say it like that.” His voice softened and he looked down at the white tiles.

“But it’s the truth.” You looked into him straight into the eyes.

“It’s the truth yes. But you make it sound like I don’t love you anymore which you know nothing about.”

Your mouth twisted and you furrowed your eyebrows. You didn’t even want to ask or here the answer to that. You had come to the point where you didn’t want to know how he was feeling towards you because no matter what it would feel like a disappointment.

“You don’t even know how I feel. You just assume the worst because that’s what I’ve shown you. The worst thing that could possibly happen, but you do ever think about how hard it is to see you every day? Watch you jump around in your cheerleading uniform pretending to be happy when I can see right through the fake smile? Watch you at that party and pretend I haven’t’ been looking for you all night or keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip or get hit on by some idiot like Noah Martin.”

“You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“You shouldn’t tell me who I can worry about and who I cannot.”

You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, seeing how his curls were sticking to his forehead. His hair had grown so long since you first started dating. You remembered the quiff as if it was yesterday.

“Don’t look at me like that,” You shook your head, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Looking at you like that?” He questioned and bit down on his bottom lip.

“Like there’s no other thing that you want to do right now than to kiss me.”

Luke’s eyes didn’t widen but you could see the thoughts were racing in his brain. No, he wasn’t the only one knowing what was going on. You could both read your minds just by knowing each other so well.

“I can’t kiss you…” He hesitantly said, furrowing his eyebrows as well.

“No… You can’t.” Your voice was stern, louder than it was before but you still remained the intense eye contact.

You looked down at his plump lips he had been previously biting onto and flicked back to his eyes. Had his eyes always been this blue? You were starting to have second thoughts.

You did. You could feel shivers run down your back despite the boiling water running down.

You didn’t know what caused the both of you to lean in at the same time, but once it did and your lips connected Luke’s hand came up to touch your cheek.

It was so foreign because it had been so long but at the same time, it kept so much passion you were almost knocked out by it.

His hands were quick to caress from your cheek to your hair, pulling you closer than before and holding a steady arm around your hips.

“You know if I continue this, I’m not going to be able to stop…” Luke stopped the kissing but still had his forehead against yours. His breathing was hot in the air and his eyes were constantly switching between looking at your lips and your eyes.

“I don’t care.” You whispered, leaning in again and deciding that this was going to happen. You needed this to happen.

Luke used his long arms to lean up and turn off the shower, not wanting it to disturb you or distract you in the process. It was enough he was drowned from the pool; he knew the semi boner was slowly showing.

He wrapped his arms around your body and with his strength lifted the both of you from the bathroom tiles.

You barely registered you were a shaking mess. Whether it was from the adrenaline of suddenly being this close to him or the fact that you were freezing cold now that the water was turned off, you didn’t know. All you could think about was how relieving it was to finally be this close to him again.

“I’ve missed your lips so much you have no idea.” He commented once he had backed you towards your bathroom counter, easily grabbing you by the hips and pulling you up to sit on the edge.

You didn’t know what to answer so you let your actions speak louder than words. Grabbing the hem of his shirt you pulled it over his head and watched him run a hand through his hair.

His hair had gotten so curly sometimes you wondered if it was a new style he was trying out. You remembered the quiff like it was yesterday. You couldn’t believe 2016 was four years back.

“Hold on,” He paused out of breath when he noticed something in the corner of his eye.

He still had an arm wrapped around your waist and the other reached forward to grab the blue package his eye spotted.

“You’re on birth control?” He quivered an eyebrow, looking at you with curious eyes.

Your lips parted, looking down at the package as well as if you had forgotten everything about it.

Throughout your relationship, the only solution of protection would be either condoms or Luke pulling out before time. You had had never really liked the thought of birth control, taking a pill every single day sounded unmanageable and what if you suddenly forgot and got pregnant?

“Well, yeah…” You awkwardly shrugged your shoulder, nervously scratching your arm.

“I just thought that it might be a good idea to try it out you know… It also helps with the cramps and such and keeps a better schedule if I want to skip a period or not.”

“But you never wanted it when we were together?” He took a step to the right to place the package back where it belonged.

“No… I guess things and opinions change when you break up.” You mumbled the last part, not wanting to look him in the eyes when saying it.

He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, not really knowing what you were trying to hint at. He seemed quiet for a second, probably trying to multiply why you had suddenly changed your mind until he settled on moving forward.

“Come here,” He motioned for you to stand on the tiles again, and he helped you get off with your wet clothes and your own.

It wasn’t weird seeing him naked. It was confusing at first, considering his six-pack had suddenly started to show. You assumed it was just you who had gone through a hunger strike during the weeks of breakup but it seems like Luke had been struggling as well.

“Have you lost weight?” He asked with a hint of seriousness, glancing you up and down as if it was the first time, he had seen your body.

“Just a few kilos.” You shrugged, not wanting it to be a big deal. You didn’t want to admit the first two weeks where the only thing you could eat was small kids’ yogurt.

“Are you eating now?” He was still sounding worried and to be honest you had enough of the interrogation. If he cared about your health, he would have asked sooner.

“Enough with the questions.” You took him by surprise and pressed him against the wall.

You stood on your toes the best you could with the height difference and pressed your lips against his again. The before timid and kind actions were replaced with lust and passion, something you had been longing for, for a while.

He quickly reacted and detached from the wall to start back you out of the bathroom and towards your bed instead. The cushions were cold against your bareback and you reached your fingers through his hair when he gently laid on top of you.

His long member was teasingly caressing up and down your entrance, but Luke wasn’t ready to go that far yet.

“You shouldn’t be losing so much weight,” He stopped kissing you to move down to your neck instead, the other hand grabbing your breast.

“You’re so perfect as you are.” He moved his lips down to kiss you at the swell of your chest, continuing down your stomach until he landed right at the top where you needed him the most.

“I could say the same to you,” You leaned up on your elbows out of breath to look at him, panting lightly.

“I haven’t been losing weight, or well I have but it’s been fat. I have been gaining muscles though, so I still weigh the same as I’ve always had.”

Just the thought of Luke going more to the gym sent electric fire through your body and you leaned your head back against the pillow and looked towards the ceiling.

You could feel Luke’s warm lips press against your thigh, the cold and warm contrast causing goosebumps to appear on your skin.

When his lips came to your clit you shut your eyes, waiting for the response but when nothing happened you looked down at him with wide eyes.

“Are you trying to torture me?” You practically asked, looking at him in confusion.

He was wearing a smirk all over his face, watching you whine beneath him and his thumb came up to touch your clit instead of his tongue.

“For fuck sake...” You fell back to the pillow again in frustration, knowing just exactly well what he was doing. He had always been the teaser. He loved seeing how far he could get before you would go absolutely crazy.

“Luke I swear to god if you don’t do anyth-,” You stopped your sentence when you felt his tongue press against your clit, slowly doing circles and causing you to grasp the white sheets beneath you.

“You haven’t changed just a bit,” He paused for a second to laugh, “Still as impatient as ever.”

“Well why won’t we switch places and we’ll see how long it takes me to suck you until the only thing on your mind is to fuck me.” You said through gritted teeth and he stopped completely to lean on his elbows and look at you.

“You don’t need to do a single thing to change the only thing on my mind. You already know what I’m about to do.” He leaned his knees on the bed and grabbed you by the thighs to pull you down to him.

You made a small sound in surprise, looking at him with wide eyes and swinging your legs around his hips to press him into you. He was right. No patience and clear deep desperation.

He was still smirking when you pressed your lips against his, feeling his tip slowly press into you and filling you up. That was the biggest relief you had felt in a long time.

You could sense Luke was feeling the same because he had to stay still just for a second.

“Oh my god this is going to be a short one, this is what happens when you don’t have sex in months.” Luke mumbled more to himself than you, clearly a little bit embarrassed beforehand.

“I don’t care. Let’s just enjoy the moment.” You mumbled against his neck and pressed his hips further into you with your legs. What a benefit for once, you in charge.

The feeling of him filling you up caused you to shut your eyes, feeling your goosebumps form, up from your thighs and on your arms as well. If it wasn’t for the fact Luke knew what was going on he thought you would be freezing.

“I’ve missed this so much,” He mumbled against your neck, keeping on thrusting in and causing you to shut your eyes and grasp his hair again.

It looked like a tousled mess, but you didn’t care, and he didn’t mind.

“I missed this as well.” You agreed and moved your face so it wasn’t buried in his neck.

You looked at each other for a second, both breathing heavily and his hair was falling in front of his face from being on top. Not to mention you tousling it to the point where he was sure the hair would slip from the roots.

“You look beautiful.” He suddenly commented gently, grabbing a piece of hair and pulled it behind your hair.

If it wasn’t for the circumstances, you would have disagreed. You weren’t able to see yourself, but you could sense you were a sweating mess. Your hair was messed and everywhere on the pillow.

“And I’m coming.” He mumbled the last bit rather nonromantic, but regardless you pressed him further into you, feeling for the first time how you could satisfy him without forcing him to pull out or wear a raincoat.

He was breathing heavily and trying not to fall on top of you as he finished, holding a steady arm to make sure he wouldn’t crush you.

You looked up at him trying to scan his face, seeing as he was still having his eyes shut and stood still for a second.

“You probably need some tissues.” He leaned over to your nightstand and grabbed a new tissue you had placed in case of sneezing or such. He helped you getting cleaned and also himself before he fell to the bed and looked up at the ceiling as well.

“Why did that feel way better than when we were together?” He questioned after minutes of silence.

“Because suddenly we didn’t it without forcing because we were stressed out.” You admitted in honesty. It was the first answer that came to your mind so you decided to go with it.

“You’ve really become harsh.” He scratched his arm nervously and grabbed the sheets to pull it over your body.

You moved to rest on your side and looked at him tempted. You didn’t know if you should keep quiet or settle by stating the truth. It was so foreign seeing him there, resting right by your side like he always had.

“I hate you for giving up on me. Giving up on us.”

His facial expression changed by your words and he softened but in a sad way.

“I hate you for hurting me, I hate you for making me cry and I hate you for leaving me. I hate you for not being there when I needed you the most.”

He leaned his cheek on the pillow and looked down at his fingers fiddling with the sheets. It felt good saying it out loud no matter how sad his face looked. He deserved to hear the words.

“Come here,” He knew you could easily reject, he was ready to face it but when you moved closer to his body with a frown you looked up at him.

“You know just exactly how much I hate myself. Because I do. Every single day.”

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, feeling you tense less in his arms and leaned his head on top of yours. This was just exactly well what he needed the most. Just to feel you close in his arms again.

He looked towards the table with curious eyes, still seeing the rose stand in your favorite vase and giving the rest of the room just a little bit of life and light.

He smiled carefully to himself and looked down at your almost sober state, seeing your eyes shut close and your mind falling slowly to sleep.

Feedback is appreciated much!

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vanchlo · 4 years ago

Text

The Firsts / #6, “The First Festivities”

*not my gifs*

---> NEXT BLURB: Coming soon, I hope! Keep an eye on the series masterlist for updates!

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

and i’m too lazy for italics bc tumblr ignores formatting that i do in Docs so sorry i give up

WARNINGS: Prepare for some angst and sadness, but don’t worry it’ll be ok c:

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SONG: Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney (click to listen)

sneAAAAAAAKY PEEK!

“Because loving somebody means loving them when they’re okay and when they’re not okay. I knew that’s what I was signing up for when I started loving you, so long ago. I knew that you could be a good person, Harry, and you are. I knew that just because you’re okay one day doesn’t mean that you will be the next day and every day after that,” I tell him, lacing the fingers of my other hand with his limp ones. His unblinking eyes fill with tears and then drain of them, staring ahead and disagreeing with mine. “Please let me help, and come home with me. I’ll stay with you.”

“All I can say is that you make me... you make me into someone I couldn't even imagine. You make me happy, even when you're awful. I would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world.”

― Jojo Moyes, Me Before You

The tiny tree drowning in miniature lights and ornaments taunts me as I pour the pale creamer into the steaming mug. Clucking my tongue, I drop a spoon into the beige colored abyss. I begin to stir it in never ending circles as my flats carry me down the hallway.

“You know, the break room looks more like Christmas than your house,” I jest, turning to close the door behind me.

“If ‘s such a problem t’ you then why dontcha do sumthin’ ‘bout it?” they remark sarcastically, turning to face me with an eyebrow raised in my direction. A corner of his mouth quirks upwards as I shake my head with a bemused smile.

“What do you call what I’m doing right now, huh?” I reply, handing the mug of coffee to him.

“I call it bullyin’ me into submission, Ms. Lawyer,” Harry giggles, bringing the hot mug to his lips.

“All I can say is that I learned from the best,” I shrug and he shakes his head into his mug. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can drink coffee when it’s so hot. You must have no taste buds left, anymore.”

His laugh tickles the air as he swallows, moving to set it down on a frosted black coaster beside his keyboard. Smiling, he licks his lips before they part, “Reckon I don’t anymo’ then, maybe that’s why I liked yer poppy seed bread befo’ you told me you’d doused it in icing t’ hide tha fact it was burnt,” Harry chuckles, and I press my smiling lips together. Shaking my head, his giggle nudges at my own lips framed by flamed cheeks.

“Hush,” I say, turning away and walking towards his sofa where my purple knit blanket has found a new home with my Macbook.

“And what if I don’t?” he teases, taking hold of my waist and stopping behind me where I feel his breath on my ear.

“Really?” I ask in a titter, moving my body to face him and his ethereal looking smile. A sight I had gone so long without seeing that I wasn’t sure if it could find its home anymore.

“Really really,” he grins, dipping to leave kisses along my cheeks. My eyes fall shut with a smile accompanying it, and I enjoy the feeling of his lips along my temple, and then my cheek. It still feels so new, all over again, and I won’t let what came before it shadow it.

“I think you should get a tree, Harry, it’s Christmas next week, babe.”

“Then come with me t’ tha tree farm t’night,” he murmurs against my skin, followed by my intake of air when his teeth sink into my ear. Our giggles mingle when he releases it and continues his journey down my neck.

“Wait, really?” I ask excitedly, pulling away to find his lips falling into a frown. “You’re finally agreeing to go all out with me? The real tree, decorating the tree while cookies bake in the oven and-.”

“Yes,” he answers hurriedly, his lips considerably closer to mine than they were a second ago.

“Watching Christmas movies together with a fire in the fireplace, exchanging presents on Christmas morning-.”

“Yes, Becks. Whatever you’d like, love,” he wheezes with that light once again on his face. My favorite kind of sunshine. “Now, would ya stop talkin’ so I can bloody kiss ya already?” and I nod, soon smiling into his lips that press a long kiss to mine. “Think they’ll even have any good ones left?” he asks a moment later, dragging the tip of his finger along my birthmark with a content smile grazing his lips.

“I dunno, I guess we’ll see but it’s probably picked over rather well,” I shrug, and he does too with an exhale, pulling me against his chest.

“Hmm, wonder what kinda Christmas traditions we’ll start t’getha this year, bug.”

“Well God, I hope this isn’t going to be a lasting tradition,” I muse, crossing my arms over my chest as I hold back a laugh. Turning my head to look at him, his eyes reluctantly make their way over to me after brushing the stray needles off of his coat that he keeps around for things like this. His “manly man coat” as he calls it, as if this tree really required it.

“I don’t wanna hear anotha word outta you,” Harry remarks, pointing a finger at me while giving me a dirty look. My lips part and he dips his head at me with raised brows. “You said it was cute when we picked it out, and how many times do you tell me ‘ya get what ya get and ya don’t throw a fit?’ Huh?”

“Okay, but, Harry,” I begin until a laugh overcomes my words and he groans in response.

“Somebody jus’ had t’ have a bloody tree,” he grunts, walking away and over to the closet under the stairs where he hangs his tattered coat.

“Hey! I like it, but . . “

“But what?” he sighs, and when I tear my eyes from the tree he’s giving me another annoyed look.

“But I like big things, you know that,” I tease, meeting him by the kitchen island where I slip my way into his arms. But one of mine wanders down his chest and to the front of his jeans that he slipped on for the outing that greet my fingers with cold fabric.

“Dontchu try t’ butter me up, woman,” he says with a roll of his eyes until it dissolves into the sound that often coasts from his lips lately. I hate when my mind automatically goes to those few weeks where I yearned to hear it around the firm, but I never did.

“I’m not, and I’m just kidding. I really do love the tree, I think it’s a perfect size, not too big, not too small,” I tell him in a coo and he nods with slight hesitancy to the action.

“Yer sure?”

“Yes,” I answer, letting my head fall to his chest after my arms wound around his middle. “I like our first Christmas tree, it’s tiny and cute. I like little things too, they’re just so adorable.”

“That’s not what you were jus’ sayin,’” he whispers, squeezing my ass and I almost jump. Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes as I exhale, admiring the four foot Christmas tree. The tallest one we could find at the farm that wasn’t scrawny or sick.

“Hush, and go and get the lights and ornaments while I start the cookies and dinner.”

“‘Kay,” Harry hums, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Missed you . . missed this.”

“Missed you,” I smile with melancholy sticking to its edges, leaning into his touch as a long sigh leaves my lips. In the silence, my hand drifts along his back and to the hole that I know mars the red flannel he wears. I’d told him how many times to get rid of it already, but he can’t give it up. “What do you want to do for Christmas day, for a meal?”

“Was actually gonna ask you t’ come t’ me mum’s, she does a Christmas lunch ev’ry year with Gemma and tha kids.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun. I’ve really missed Harper and Ollie,” I remark, closing my eyes and inhaling his smell dotted with fresh pine.

“They’ve missed ya too, bug. Harper hasn’t stopped askin’ when ‘m gonna bring Anty Becky over,” he almost wheezes. I don’t stop myself early enough, because it’s too late, and I hear the sadness clinging to his voice. That hellish month wasn’t contained to just us, and I see it in people’s wandering glances at the firm. Maybe even more now that rumor’s gone around that we’ve gotten back together, only fueled by our public friendliness with each other since, and despite the professionalism we both tried to carry. I’d missed his niece and nephew more than I thought I could, his sister, and his mum too, and when those thoughts appeared in my head it all hurt even more. I didn’t know that my heart could squeeze any more pain out after losing him, and in the way that I did.

Sometimes, the silence feels unsettling still, and I hate that. I hate the hesitance I see in his actions still when he goes to touch me, or the look on his face at dinner with Myles and Jeanie the other night when the waiter berated him to order a drink too. It’d only continued the next day when it was my first time back at his house and the wine cabinet was starkly empty, and so were all of the spots that held my things. Neither of us had brought up me moving back in yet, and sometimes I thought I was ready to . . sometimes.

“Yer not goin’ t’ Madley Christmas day are you?” he hums, pulling me away from my thoughts, and I welcome it. “Course, if you are that’s okay.”

“No. Um, I’m going the day after, that’s when we always do it. You’re welcome to come, if you’d like.”

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, warmth spreading across my scalp when his closed mouth rests there. “I dunno, Robbie seemed rather pissed tha other day when he stopped by tha firm and saw me, so I can only imagine how yer dad would act.”

“Harry-,” I start, moving away so I can look at him, but he doesn’t let me.

“‘s fine, Becks, okay? I don’t blame ‘em. ‘m gonna go and grab tha decorations befo’ it gets too late. I don’t wanna be up all night cookin’ and decoratin’,” he finishes, leaving my arms. I nod silently to myself, arms cold and empty as I watch him walk away, assuring myself it’s okay and I’m okay because he’s coming back.

Only a few days after getting back together, and I wish things would go back to normal already. I’ve never gotten my wish for normalcy, now have I?

“Stop it, I mean it,” Harry attempts, but the firmness in his voice is lacking as a laugh interrupts it. “We both know that ya know all tha words, but I wanna hear ‘em too, ‘kay?”

“Fine, but for the record, you’re no fun.”

“Reckon we both know that too,” he answers, feeding buttered popcorn between his bubblegum pink lips. My eyes return to the telly where the other Harry and Marv continue their infiltration into Kevin’s house, but he anticipates their plan, and I giggle at the next booby trap he’s set.

Looking to my Harry, I find him lost in the bowl of popcorn that sits on his lap where he lies beside me in my bed. Clearing my throat loudly, he looks up and over to me, lifting a brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, repeating the question I’ve asked too many times today, and I know it.

“Yes, ‘m fine.”

“You sure? Because Home Alone is a cinematic masterpiece and if it doesn’t make you happy then there something’s wrong with you,” I joke, tossing a Red Vine onto his lap, missing the popcorn bowl that he’s peering into again while sifting around for a chocolate drizzled one. “I’m just kidding, it’s only a film, but you haven’t been yourself today, Harry, or well, yesterday either. For a few days now. Will you please tell me what’s bothering you . . so I can help?”

“There’s plenty o’ things,” he whispers, and my face creases into a question.

“What’d you say?” I ask slowly and seriously.

“I said there’s plenty o’ plain popcorn in here, far too many ‘cuz somebody ate all o’ tha chocolate ones,” he says with a shake of his head, picking up the licorice that soon appears between his teeth. He rips at it until he begins to chew and meets my eyes with a forced smile.

“You snooze, you lose,” I tease and he offers a laugh in between the licorice as my eyes stray to my artificial Christmas tree. I watch the twinkling lights dance along the window, wishing it felt like Christmas and all of its cheeriness.

I can’t remember the last time that I had a happy Christmas.

What wakes me is a creaking sound, and when I look around, the sun isn’t peeking through the windows and the birds aren’t chirping. The multi-colored lights donning the tree are the only light around me, and they shed some on the section of bed next to me. The sheets absent of Harry. Instead, they hold a half folded page which pulls my eyes to my desk where I can just make out my favorite journal from Harry, opened and with a pen sitting in its middle.

Sitting up, I turn the light on and grab at the paper, immediately opening it. Little did I know that after reading its secrets, that part of me would feel ashamed for wishing that I’d never read it and just gone back to sleep. Ignorant and blissful. The other side of me reads it quick and fast, feeling my heart climb in speed with every word that my eyes can’t believe.

Becks,

I’m sorry, love, but I just can’t do this. I can’t do this to you. I’m not enough for you and I don’t know why I ever thought that I could be. You deserve so much better than me, so fucking much. I’ve been going to the meetings and I think that they help, but I had a drink last night and I wanted to keep going and I did. I stopped myself, but I hate myself for not stopping myself earlier than that. I don’t want to do this to you again, and I won’t. Please don’t try to change my mind, because you can’t. I love you, so so much, Rebecca Ann, and that’s why I have to do this. I have to leave, because I don’t want to keep ruining your life. I’ve been doing that for far too long, years now. I love you more than I could ever make you know and I hope that you can forgive me one day. Call that bloke Max that liked you the one time, he seemed like a catch. I dunno.

Merry Christmas,

Harry xoxoxo

Tears had already begun their descent down my cheeks, from the very first words, and they only grew stronger as I went further down the page. I didn’t remember that I was holding it as I tore from the bed and into the hallway, searching for him in every corner. In the flat, through the hallways, on the lift, and in the lobby downstairs. I couldn’t find his face, and the fright grew and grew inside of me until I thought I would explode from it. It followed me through the green lights and threatened to topple over at the red ones. It led my feet to his door and to the spare key I know that he hides under the flowerpot on his porch, and guided me blindly through the empty house. The twinkling lights on the tree greeted it and shrunk in its sight, our tree. Our home. The fright sent me out of there with a new sob and it fed another when I got onto the lift and walked through the dark halls.

It only began to shrink when the door to the firm opened with ease in my hand, and I was met with the emptiness of its walls. My impatient steps echoed loudly in my ears and I couldn’t care if I tried, not even when they stopped in front of the door bearing his name and the words ‘Managing Partner & Attorney’ below it. The fear grew at the lack of light underneath his door, but it was smacked down when the handle twisted in my grip, and I found him before me. If he heard me, he didn’t show it. If he knew I was coming, he didn’t try hard enough to hide. He didn’t lock the doors behind him of his own firm, unoccupied on a Saturday. He didn’t try hard enough, and that’s all that I cared about.

“You really think that a lousy note is going to make me stay away a-and stop loving you?” I cry, lingering in his doorway, wanting to surround him with myself but not knowing if he’d let me. His head falls where he stands in front of his window, looking nothing like himself in trainers and a hoodie, his makeshift pajamas. “Harry, y-you had a relapse, it’s okay.”

“But ‘s not, Becks,” he says in a strained voice, his figure soon shaking with a sob. “‘s not gonna be okay when at Christmas yer dad stares at me with disdain in his eyes knowing what I did t’ you- t’ us, and knowin’ deep down that it could happen again ‘cuz I can’t stop,” he insists, vigor in his voice. “‘s not gonna be okay when it creeps up on me down tha road when we have kids, and I pick up tha bottle ‘cuz ‘m stressed out from late nights with a baby.”

Gulping, my throat feels dry with the absence of words and the onslaught of tears. The wanting to know what to say stirs the verbs and adjectives within me, but they don’t go anywhere. Then again, neither is he right now and that seems to be the only comfort that I can find in this moment.

“‘s not okay, Becks. ‘m not okay,” Harry says with languid plaguing his voice, refusing to turn around.

“But I love you even when you’re not okay,” I insist, my clenched fists shaking despite my attempts to calm them, and yet the only thing that could calm me has run away from me. “I do, and I always will, Harry! That’s why I came back, because I love you and I want to help you. Yes, you hurt me, but I forgive you because I love you. I love you because I forgive you,” I sob, wishing that he would say something - that he’s sorry for leaving and that he’ll try again. I just wish for something to come out of his mouth, because his silence is terrifying me. I don’t know how much more I can take.

I know that I can’t take a world of mine without him in it, and too many years of yearning for him across a room doesn’t count. I can’t do that again, not any of it. That’s what pulls my feet away from the door and towards him.

“I’m not leaving you, I’m not going anywhere no matter how hard you try to get rid of me. I’m going to stay and help you, please just let me,” I beg, curling my fingers around his forearm, watching a tear collect at the point of his nose. “Can we please just go home and go back to bed? I want to spend Christmas with my best friend this week, even if things aren’t okay.”

“‘m broken, Becks. ‘m a mess, how could you love me still?” he asks quietly, lifting his eyes to peer out onto the sleeping town where only the lights are awake. Lights strewn on trees in the park and alive on the buildings. “I thought ‘d feel okay when we got back t’getha, and I did . . but then I didn’t. I dunno what happened . . what’s happenin’ t’ me. How can you love somebody like that?”

“Make sure that I don’t have a drink?” he says in a tone that I don’t like. Squeezing his hand doesn’t help, it doesn’t spur life into him or send encouragement to him. “Ya can’t be there ev’ry moment o’ ev’ry day makin’ sure that I don’t drink, Becks, and I don’t want you t’. You deserve such a betta life than what I can give you,” he continues, meeting my eyes for the first time since I stepped into the room. Now, I wish that he hadn’t, because I see it before I stop myself. I see the answer in his eyes, the one that’s probably been there all along and the one that I couldn’t take away. The one that I can’t take away.

It stays there in front of my eyes, when he walks out of the room and when I fall back into my bed with defeat and my eyes stinging with the arrival of new tears. It stays there as I stare at the tree from under my sheets, and when I unplug it and shove it in the closet. It remains as I toss and turn under the sheets, and when I wake with his smell on the pillowcase, lulling me into a nonexistence that stays until I remember. I wish that I hadn’t.

He didn’t answer. His texts or his calls. His doorbell. His emails. He wasn’t there at work, at the team meeting, or at the pre-trial for our client. I was afraid to ask at first, but then I was texting his mum and his sister before I knew it, asking if they’d heard from him. I asked Myles, Rory, and Rose, and they didn’t know either. Nobody did.

I absently continued to work on our case, despite the worry that climbed in my gut, not knowing where he was or if he was okay. It all hurt too much and suddenly, I hated him again for hurting me like this. The pain only came harder when I thought about how he thought he was saving me from the pain when he was only inflicting it more.

Wiping a stubborn tear from my cheek, I exhale shakily and close the folder in front of me filled with his handwriting. I gulp and return to Docs on my Macbook, and stare at the blinking cursor, unsure of what to do. He always knew what to do in these lost moments. The next best step for a case, who to interview, where the best place is to find evidence, who to nudge at the courthouse for information, and how to make me feel better. My shoulders sag and I feel the wall inside of me begin to crumble.

Knock knock!

Whipping my head towards the door, I see a glimpse of him until I blink a tear away and he runs away. Again.

“Hey,” Myles says softly, hovering in my doorway, unable to meet my eyes. “Is it a bad time? I can come back later.”

“No no, it’s okay . . Have you heard from him?”

“Yeah,” he begins, but his voice doesn’t fill with happiness or drench me with relief. The way that his eyes are strangers to mine don’t wick the tears away. “He’s okay, Becky, but he wants to be left alone. He wanted me to tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry, but he needs some time to himself. He’ll contact you when . . when he’s ready . . I’m sorry, love,” he finishes, at last meeting my eyes, if only for a moment. “Please, let me know if you need anything, anything at all. And, I’ve asked Rory to take over this case, since he’s the only one free at the mo’. So, go home and take it easy, okay? Take care of yourself, and have a merry Christmas.”

I see it. The way that he corrects himself too late, knowing what he just said by habit. He can’t take it back now, the habitual ‘Merry Christmas,’ and I can’t withdraw the pain that slaps me in the face and leaves me looking at the floor. That’s all that I wanted, a merry Christmas, and he stole away every chance of that. A small ‘thanks’ greets the air around me before his leaving footfall, and I watch the tears fall onto my desk. Onto the keys of my Macbook that he got for me, a purple case and all, and the desk that he picked just for me. There are small puddles littering its surface by the time I pull myself away from it and start my way home, sure a happy Christmas’ doesn’t exist.

“You’re sure it’s okay if I go?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Ree,” Skye insists with a sigh filled with sorrow. Even the tips of her fingertips against my forehead leave trails of it along my skin.

“Maybe if I say it enough times, I will be.”

“Oh, Ree,” she exhales with honey coating her words, and I hate it.

I hate all of this. Lying in bed like a pathetic mope on Christmas Eve, even denying Robbie to meet his new girlfriend, and Dad to come home early. I told the both of them that I was sick, and although it didn’t feel far off, the guilt ate at me. It was surpassed by the fear and anguish at the prospect of telling them the truth, and how it eradicated the balance that had been restored to my life within the last week. Once again, it had been chucked into the bin, and I didn’t know what to do, or how to do anything. I didn’t know how to be okay again, and somehow, this time hurt worse than when he would get plastered and yell at me. Somehow, him leaving willingly and in the right mind was far worse.

“I won’t be gone all night . . Ring me if ya need me, alright? I love you, Ree. I wish that there was more I could do,” she exhales, leaving with an awkward kiss to my temple, and then she’s gone.

An emptiness sings throughout the flat and I watch the twinkling of a star long off in the distance. I wish that I could be there, far and away from all of this, like the Grinch separated from the Whos. But, that’s not what I want and I know that. I just want him, a happy Christmas with him.

A creaking awakes me and I sigh, rubbing the back of my hand against my eyes while licking my lips, “I’m fine, Skye, go away. I’m trying to sleep,” I groan with a yawn breaking through my words. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers until I find a good spot again.

The bed dips underneath me and my annoyed moan follows suit, especially when somebody slips under the covers behind me. Mutterings escape my lips and I yank the covers higher, rejecting their arms that come around me, until I freeze. My eyes fly open and I inhale again, and again. The scratchy feeling against my cheek does it, and I spin around, knocking heads with the person. Him.

“Ouch!” he exclaims, holding his forehead. A laugh unfolds on his lips as his breath wafts over me, and all of a sudden, he’s real. He’s here and I’m okay. “You okay, love? Ya really hit yer noggin’ hard with mine,” he continues, wheezing between his words.

“Becks?” he asks and I nod emphatically, and then, I begin to sob suddenly. “Oh, honeybug, c’mere.”

“Harry,” I sigh shakily into his neck when he surrounds me with his arms, and I find his holey flannel with my hands.

“‘m so sorry, Becks, ‘m so fookin’ sorry. I thought I could do it without you, but I can’t, baby, I can’t. Please, don’t let me do it without you. Don’t ever lemme leave you again, I was such a bloody idiot. ‘m so sorry, I ruined our first Christmas t’getha, baby,” he rushes from above me, worry sewn into his voice until his tears make their arrival.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not ruined, just please never leave me again. I can’t- I can’t do any of this without you either, none of it. I can help. I’ll go with to the meetings, if you want Just, tell me what I need to do to help and I will. I just want to help you, Harry, I love you so much,” I confess impatiently, finding warmth in his stubbly neck and his scent that I’ve missed almost as much as him.

“All I need ‘s t’ be with you, promise. I love you, baby, I love you, I love you, I love you. Ev’rythin’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay, ‘m gonna be okay, and yer gonna be okay,” he coos to me, sponging kisses along my head and forehead until he’s brought my eyes forward and to him. A small smile curves his lips upwards and he touches his finger to my nose. “Can’t tell you enough how sorry I am. I got on a flight, can’t even rememba where. I jus’ had t’ get away from here, but I knew I did tha wrong thing not long afta, and it was a mess tryin’ t’ get back with layovers and all that shit with Christmas.” I nod, watching him lace his hand with mine and give it a squeeze.

“I’m just glad you’re back and that you’re okay.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he echos, dipping to kiss me on the lips. Pulling away, his eyes leave mine, and I turn to follow his to the window behind me. “Looks like I made it in time, 12:05 . . Merry Christmas, Becks,” he hums when I look back to him and the words soon meet the air in my voice, too.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” I sigh, laying my head against his chest. He moves to lie on his back and his arms stay surrounding me while his lips find the crown of my head.

“Sleep, baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere, not ever again. I know we both need it . . We’ll do presents in tha mornin’ at mine, ‘kay? And finish our Home Alone marathon and cookie decoratin’ too. Promise, promise ‘m never leavin’ you ‘gain, sweet girl.”

“Okay,” I reply sleepily, feeling myself relax when his fingers start to dance through my hair.

“Becks.”

I hear my name and then feel the kiss that follows it, and the next one. A loud raspberry on my cheek eliminates any chance of falling back to sleep. What sounds obnoxious and loud fills a laugh that graces my ears, and yet, I couldn’t want to wake up to something more than that exact sound.

“Harry,” I say, joining with his laughter that grows as more raspberries cover my face. “Stop it,” I groan, but I don’t mean it and I think he knows it, because he continues. At last, he stops and I’m left staring up at the man of my dreams, unshaven and with the cutest of bedheads.

“Merry Christmas, bug,” he coos with a contagious happiness to his lips that spreads to mine when I kiss him.

“Hey, at least these aren’t burnt,” he remarks as I sit down next to him and try to hide a smile. “Dontchu even gimme that look, ‘m doin’ this fer you, and I swear if you bloody tell anybody.”

“What? I didn’t say anything,” I giggle and he rolls his eyes as he bites off the snowman’s head from his sugar cookie. “By the way, you’re going to ruin your appetite.”

“Such a mum you are already,” he sighs, holding the rest of the cookie between his teeth as he sits up on his knees to reach under the tree. “Pickin’ out me clothes fer me and tellin’ me I can’t have cookies befo’ our meal. Tsk tsk,” he groans dramatically as he picks up a giftbag with holiday greetings scrawled on its outside.

I laugh and watch him set it in front of me, and it only makes me wonder how he pulled this all off. I had had my presents for him wrapped and under the tree for a few days now, before everything went to shit, but somehow under the tree has grown fuller since then. I haven’t dared to ask or even make a joke about it, because I just want to enjoy this, even in all of its silliness and sadness. Even when my smile dims at the memory of waking up to that note and how it flipped my world upside down when I thought he had just placed it rightside up.

“Hey, ‘m kiddin’ ‘round. Tha pj’s are cozy, and tha cookies are delicious. ‘m sure yer breakfast cookin’ in tha oven will be too,” Harry hums with a strong smile, squeezing my arm. I nod and watch as he looks away to answer a text, having told me that he gave his family a fright too and now they won’t stop bugging him. “C’mere, you, time t’ open yer first present,” he says and he surprises me by lifting me up to place on his lap. Giggles erupt into the air when his fingertips caress my sides and his stubbly lips pepper kisses along my neck.

I wish I could freeze this moment and stay in it forever.

The next few days passed and they were rather normal and that’s all that I could ask for. An unsettling awkwardness passed after a few minutes of being at my dad’s house, and at Harry’s mum’s. Harper and Robbie were to thank for that, whether it was Robbie showing Harry his new guitar or Harper clinging to my leg the second I walked in the door and refusing to ever let me leave.

Sitting on Harry’s sofa under the glow of the Christmas lights now, I heave a sigh remembering the last few days and how wonderfully ordinary they were. Even with the A.A. meeting over Zoom that we worked in and the way our families went to lengths to leave alcohol out of their glasses and out of the conversation.

“What took you so long? I want to start the movie before we get too tired,” I moan, falling to lie on my stomach as I peer up at him taking the stairs two at a time.

“Sorry, I had one mo’ thing t’ wrap,” Harry answers, padding across the wooden floor to me where I wait with rosy cheeks. His own soon dimple with a smile when he falls onto the sofa next to me, once again lifting me onto his lap. He breathes in loudly and then yawns before nuzzling his cheek against mine, brushing his fingers against my side. “Open it,” he says, placing a small box in my hands.

I oblige and begin to tear the red wrapping paper away from the dainty box until I’m looking at a black matte box with a lid. “Harry,” I say warily, turning to look at him behind me. His smile stays and he nods towards the box.

“‘s not that, promise. Jus’ open it and you’ll see,” he insists, sponging a peck to my temple. “I know we’re both not ready yet,” he comments and I inhale slowly as I lift the top off to find a shining, silver ring waiting for me.

“Harry, is this . . ,” I try to say, but my emotions get the best of me as I turn around to face him and his reddening cheeks.

“‘s a promise ring, a knot ring, they call it . . . It symbolizes a knot that’s not tied quite yet, but I have ev’ry intention of tyin’ it one day, when we’re both ready. This ‘s a promise I swear t’ ya I won’t ever break,” he explains, and his widening smile grows blurry from the happy tears that fill my eyes. “I hope those are happy tears, love . . I love you, Becks, so much and ‘m so sorry for what ‘ve put you thru’ lately. I know that I can’t do life without you in mine, and ‘m done tryin’ to be too strong or noble- or whatever. ‘ve known for awhile that I wanted you in my life fer always . . make you Mrs. Styles one day and have loads o’ babies t’getha . . Will you wear it, bug?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” I answer, swiping at the tears on my cheeks. A nervously happy laugh coats his lips as he lifts the dainty ring from its place and takes my left hand in his. “Wow, you’re really good at this,” I joke and he nods laughing while sliding it onto my ring finger, punctuating it with a kiss.

“Thanks, hope so.”

“And what do we tell people when they ask why I have this on my ring finger?” I ask him, watching him close the box and set aside before winding his arms around me.

“That ‘s a promise ring, ‘course,” he tells me, pressing a kiss below my eye. His smell surrounds me when his forehead comes to rest against mine. I lean against him and glance down to my hand, holding it out in front of me to admire it. “Does it fit alright? I tried t’ rememba what size you are, but we can get it adjusted. I hafta say it looks perfect on you, ‘s just a shame it came in tha mail late.”

“It’s perfect, Harry,” I answer, not knowing if there are any other words that could do it justice. “God, you have to stop one-upping me on presents all of the time,” I titter and his loud chuckle echoes mine as I relax against him, staring at the ring.

“Hmm, not sure I could do betta than this next year,” he says, and we both hear it in there. The way he said it with nervousness wicking his words away that maybe next year will follow this tradition with another ring.

“There’s no need to. This Christmas was so great, Harry.”

“But it wasn’t perfect, and ‘m sorry fer that,” he comments sadly from above me where he hooks his chin over the top of my head.

“It was, just getting to spend it with you made it so.”

“I really dunno what ‘d do without you, bug,” Harry confesses softly as the fireplace crackles away beneath the tv that waits for us. The scratchy feeling of his stubble leaves my head, and when I glance up I find his eyes glassy with tears. “‘ll be makin’ it up t’ you fer tha rest o’ me life that I ever tried t’ test that.”

“It’s okay, I forgive you . . because I love you,” I tell him, my thumb greeting his warm skin slick from his lingering sadness.

“I love you mo’.”

“I love you most,” I say, completing our special saying, something I can’t remember saying since before all of this shit started.

“I love you mostest,” he follows up, and my jaw soon hangs as I stare at him in disbelief before our lips dissolve into a laugh.

“Harry!” I shriek when his lips soon cover my face in kisses, and his fingers litter tickles along my body. I lie there in his arms, savoring the sound of our laughs mixing together, hoping that it will always be like this.

I hope that it will always be this easy to love him.

My buzzing phone brings me back to the present. I find the strength to pull away from Harry and locate my phone in the folds of blankets. A text lights up my home screen once I locate it, and my lips soon fly higher.

“Hey,” I say slowly, turning my eyes to Harry to find him tracing the ring on my finger. He looks up with a question quirking his brows and my heart squeezes at the sight of him. How can a grown man be so adorable? “Is it okay if we push the movie off until tomorrow?”

“Sure, why d’ya ask?”

“You wanna go to a Christmas party with me?”

“A Christmas party? On December 28th?” he almost laughs, his greens twinkling underneath his knitted brows.

“Yeah, it’s- oh, nevermind actually,” I say, embarrassment whisking my eyes away from him and to my lap. God, how can I be so stupid to even ask?

“Hey, what’s tha matter, bug? I don’t mind goin’, and I might actually wanna if you tell me who’s throwin’ it.”

“No, it’s okay. I changed my mind, I don’t want to go anymore. Don’t worry, please,” I insist, a nervous laugh marking my words. His fingers had stilled on mine and I take the chance to adjust the piece of jewelry on my finger. “Wow, it’s so pretty and shiny.”

“Becks, don’t change tha subject,” Harry almost sighs, taking my hand in is and hiding the ring away from sight. “Then let’s go and show off that ring o’ yers, at this party.”

I remain quiet, growing chilly at the silence that seeps into our conversation and we both know it. The difficulty of saying it steals the words away from me and the gap between us grows larger with every second.

“Rebecca Ann,” he says with impatience spilling over in his voice. His palm is a welcomed warmth against my cheek with its cradle. “What aren’t you tellin’ me? Y’know you can tell me anythin’ in tha entire world . . ‘s always been that way b’tween us.”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea, Harry, it’s a party. They . . “

“Oh,” he says, the realization heavy in his tone.

“I don’t mean it like-,” I begin, finding the nervous sadness in his green eyes that try to stray, but they don’t go far.

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, Becks,” he remarks with a curve to his lips, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks fer lookin’ out fer me, bug, but I feel okay. I think I can be ‘round alcohol without losin’ it right now, so why don’t we give that party a shot, huh?”

“Really?” I ask, perking up in my seat beside him. He nods with a happy sound tumbling off his lips.

“But, first, you hafta tell me whose party this ‘s. ‘m dyin’ t’ find out.”

“Bloody hell, I dunno ‘bout this, Becks. Reckon ‘m too old fer shit like this.”

“Hush, believe it or not, there are people here older than you, Harry,” I tease him, chuckling at the way his jaw hangs loose from his face in disbelief. On my tippy toes, I press my lips to his cheek and pull him forward.

“Wait, so what ‘s this ‘gain? I don’t understand.”

“It’s a Christmas party . . for my cohort,” I tell him, leading him through the throngs of people filling the large apartment. Many mingle in groups with drinks in hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the sparkling grape juice and sodas claiming the counter, instead of only beers and Whiteclaws.

“Oh yeah, reckon ‘s been a year since ya graduated. God, already?”

“I know, right?” I say, squeezing his hand when I see that proud glint in his eye. The twinkling Christmas lights donning the space catch my eye as well as the ugly sweater memo that I’m glad I didn’t miss. “Wait, is that- No way, Becky!”

A shock of red curls turns around to face me, and their face explodes with happiness. Before I know it, they’re crossing the small space and I’m swallowed by their arms in a hug.

“Hi to you too, Rube,” I laugh into her hair that smells of cherries, just like the last time.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!” she exclaims after she finally lets me free.

“Si and I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did a good job of that,” she comments, and within seconds, I’m forgotten. “Oooo, who’s this?” she teases to me, bumping her shoulder against mine. “Wait, is this-?” Ruby cuts herself off short as realization dawns on her face as her eyes stay pointed on Harry who glances around the room mindlessly.

“Ruby, this is my boyfriend, Harry. And, Harry, this is my best friend from uni, Ruby Tucker,” I say, suddenly remembering all of the times I wanted to do this, and most important of all, that day in the lecture hall.

Looking to my side, I watch as Harry comes back to us and his eyes wander to Ruby whose infectious smile affects his own. The dimples soon fall and his eyes come to life as he holds out his other hand to her that she takes.

“Pleasure t’ meet you, Ruby, ‘ve heard good things ‘bout you,” he says warmly. A laugh sputters in my throat when I watch Ruby’s cheeks turn the same shade as her hair.

“I bet I’ve got you beat for that,” she says, flitting her eyes to me before briefly winking.

“Oh, ‘s that right? Care t’ tune me in on this, Becks?” he poses to me, lifting an eyebrow as a question waits in his teasing eyes.

“Becks?” Ruby coos and I shake my head at the both of them.

“Just that day in the lecture hall when you came to talk to our class.”

“Ah, makes sense. What, were you lot droolin’ over me too?” he jokes and Ruby’s loud laugh fills the air around us, interrupting the Christmas jingles.

“No,” I insist, but Ruby disagrees. Soon, I find that my cheeks could give hers a run for their money as they flame with embarrassment. “Fine, I may have gotten a little lost in the moment.”

“‘m sure that’s all you did,” Harry teases and I shove at his arm, savoring the sound of his laugh. It falls to an end when he caresses my head with his hand and kisses the top of my head.

“Hell, you two couldn’t be any cuter,” Ruby comments from beside us, and I feel my cheeks fill with warmth. “I’m really happy for you two. Really, I am. I can’t remember ever seeing you this happy, Becky.” Tears prick at my eyes when she squeezes my arm and smiles at me like she’s never done before. “Lemme go and find that guy of ours, I bet he’s the one behind this plan.”

“I like her,” Harry wheezes next to me, and I find the full smile that sits on his lips when I look. It shines down on me as his finger coasts along my forehead, moving a lock of hair out of my eyes. “I must agree with her, it makes me so happy t’ see how well yer doin’ now. Reckon I only saw a glimpse o’ yer life back then in uni, but yer happier now, I can tell.”

“Hmm, I can only wonder why,” I giggle and he tries not to. A Mariah Carey song comes on next and the room erupts in loud cheers. My eyes fall to our intertwined hands and my spare that covers his, tracing the familiar curves of his rings.

“Well, lookie who it is!” somebody almost shouts. I know the voice without even having to look. “Becky and her main man!”

“Hi, Si,” I smile as he approaches us in a red and green Fair Isle sweater, considerably dominant to Ruby’s grandma looking one. Harry lucked out with a festive knit sweater with several shades of red, but he could make a hospital gown look good. Meanwhile, the next best thing I could find in Harry’s closet was a blue and white number with a cheery snowman on the front.

“Hey, and Harry it ‘s, correct?” Si says, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. They both shake hands as Harry nods, and then I’m pulled into Si’s strong arms. Laughing, I make a break for it moments later, remembering I hadn’t seen them since graduation, or sometime around then.

“I knew it, you know,” he says to Ruby beside him, shaking his head with a glow to his face.

“Me too,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest as she smiles at me, knowingly.

“You knew what?” I ask them, finding Harry’s hand again with my own. Mysterious laughs float between them and they spur one on mine, but mine fills with nervousness as I trace the knot on my ring finger.

“That you’d go and work for Harry, again. Duh,” Si says, as if it’s the easiest secret in the world.

“I bet Si fifty pounds you’d go back.”

“I bet Rube seventy that you’d be back in three months,” he jests, straight white teeth showing behind his wide smile as laughs overcome the four of us.

“You guys are so bad!” I chuckle, looking to Harry who just shrugs his shoulders.

“What? We both shoulda seen it coming, it was a given, Becks.”

“Becks, huh? I haven’t heard that one before,” Si comments, bringing a tall stein to his lips. He pulls it away and wipes at the creamy yellow liquid left behind on his lips.

“Ya, um . . I called her by her last name fer awhile-.”

“And some last names that weren’t mine,” I interrupt, making everybody laugh, even Harry who seems to remember for the first time in awhile.

“As I was sayin’,” he continues, raising his eyebrows at me. “I got tired o’ Holte, tha name and tha girl.” Cue the laughing. “Anyways, I dunno, nothin’ else seemed right. Not tha classic Becky, ‘cuz ev’rybody who was anybody called her that. She was never called Rebecca, or Becca, but Becks jus’ fit her somehow,” Harry concludes, and for a few moments, it’s like there aren’t twenty people around us. It’s just us, and his neverending green eyes.

“Looks like that ring fits rather well too,” Si comments, and my eyes go searching before I realize what he’s saying.

“Si, you idiot, they’d tell you if they were ready,” Ruby scolds him, swatting at his arm.

“Um, ow!” Si exclaims, shaking his head at her. “Sorry,” he tells us after Ruby gives him a good glare.

“It’s okay, it’s not an engagement ring. Harry got me a promise ring,” I tell them, and yet, I can’t keep my eyes off of Harry whose sunshine beats down on me.

“That’s so great, Becky, congrats to you two!”

“I haven’t even met a bloke who’s cute enough for me, and look at you two,” Si exhales, draining the rest of his drink with a sad smile.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Ruby remarks, shoving him away from her when he gives her a goofy look. “Anyways, I want to hear about all of your cases together! I can’t believe you got into Styles and Lawson, Becky- Well, I can now, but tell me about it! You two got that massive Lawton and Williams case, how was that?”

“Yeah, we’ve just been dying over here, dragging our feet through dry civil cases at Xavier’s,” Simon says with a roll of his eyes, but flashes me a smile.

“Oh, yer at Xave’s? If yer lookin’ fer somethin’ new, my partner and I are hirin’ fer a new position, maybe we could fit one o’ you newbies in. We always love havin’ new graduates- well, yer a year old now, but if you’d be up fer it,” Harry announces, and my heart swells at the emotion on the both of their faces.

“It’s a bloody miracle one of us is dating a bigshot lawyer innit? Any cute guys work at your firm, Harry?” Simon says, and us two girls bust out laughing as he looks around confused. Harry stays silent and Simon remains serious until his lips coated in eggnog spew a laugh and then we’re all laughing. “Just jokin’, mate!”

They followed us into every next conversation and between our cups of eggnog and plates of cookies. I certainly wouldn’t have thought this time last year after graduating uni and missing the hell out of him that I’d be here. Sitting next to Harry on a sofa with my two best lawyer friends sharing stories as we all died laughing, and with a promise ring on my finger.

I slowly started to let myself believe that things could be good again.

7 notes · View notes

tw-anchor · 5 years ago

Text

12. New Alpha in Town

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Reader)

Episode: 1x12; Code Breaker

Word: 5,295

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence, blood, character death

Author’s Note: The end of season one! Peter and Kate are dead, Derek’s the alpha, and the Allison and the Argents know about Scott. Tell me what you think! Reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profile Description!

"Let's go," Peter ordered, getting to his feet. "both of you."

Olivia shook her head and kept her wet eyes on Lydia. Her cousin was still unconscious, which couldn't be a good thing, and her pink dress was turning dark red from the blood she was losing.

"Olivia."

"No," she snapped, glaring up at her father. "I'm not just letting you leave her here."

Peter rolled his eyes and pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket, dapping Lydia's blood off his lips. "You don't have a choice, darling," he stated flatly. "You and Stiles are coming with me."

"I don't care," Olivia protested, raising her voice. "She's bleeding out, she needs help. I'm not leaving her to die."

Peter, running out of patience, reached forward and roughly grabbed Olivia's arm, pulling her to her feet. Stiles jumped up as Olivia struggled against her father, ready to intervene.

"Call your friend," Peter said as Olivia looked at her father, afraid. "Tell Jackson where she is. That's all you get."

Peter dragged Olivia away with him as he walked off the lacrosse field, leaving Stiles to make a panicked phone call.

The atmosphere inside the Jeep as Stiles drove them to the parking structure at the mall was suffocating. No one spoke and it was quiet save from the sniffles Oliva let out here and there. Stiles kept trying to make eye contact with her through the rear-view mirror, but she kept her gaze to the window.

Olivia tried to absorb everything that happened since she and Stiles left the gym; she had tried so hard to keep Lydia out of everything supernatural but now she was bitten. She would either die or become a werewolf and Peter was to blame. Olivia's father, who she had loved so deeply, had hurt one of the people she loved most in the world.

It blew her mind to know that the man who used to read her bedtimes stories and made chocolate chip cookies with her had turned into such a monster.

"You don't have to feel bad," Peter eventually spoke up, looking between Stiles and Olivia. "If she lives, she'll become a werewolf. She'll be incredibly powerful."

"Yeah," Stiles scoffed. "and once a month, she'll go out of her fucking mind and try to tear everything apart."

"Well, actually, considering that she's a woman—twice a month," Peter shrugged.

Olivia turned from the window and narrowed her eyes at Peter. "Shut up."

"I can see that this is a touchy subject," Peter clicked his tongue and chuckled. "Fine. Stiles," he turned to the spastic teen. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

Stiles, who was pulling into the parking garage, spluttered in shock. He gave Peter a wide-eyed look and didn't answer. Olivia scoffed from the backseat and leaned forward so she could look her father in the eyes.

"His intentions are for you to leave us alone," she spat.

Peter glared at her. "Watch your tone, Olivia," he said sternly before facing forward and pointing to a silver car. "Park next to that car."

Stiles pulled into the closest space, a few cars over, and shut off the Jeep. Peter was out of his seat within seconds and grabbed Olivia's arm, practically dragging her out of the vehicle.

Olivia grunted from his painful grip of her as Stiles jumped out of his seat and protested loudly. "Hey, let her go—ah!" Stiles groaned as Peter grabbed his ear with his free hand and started dragging both of them to the silver car. "Ow, ow."

Peter let them go and started digging in his pockets for a set of keys.

"Whose car is this?" Olivia asked, rubbing her arm.

"It belonged to my nurse," Peter said, finding the keys and unlocking the trunk.

"What happened to your nur—" Stiles gasped in shock when Peter opened the trunk to reveal a dead body. "Oh, my God!"

Olivia wrinkled her nose at the horrible smell coming off Jennifer's body. "You killed Jennifer?"

Peter grabbed the briefcase that was leaning against the body and slammed the trunk closed. "I got better," he shrugged. "Besides, she was a bitch."

Olivia agreed that the nurse was a bitch but that didn't mean she deserved to die. She deserved to rot in jail for helping Peter kill people, not rot in a locked trunk.

Peter set the briefcase on the trunk and pulled out a laptop.

"Good luck getting a signal down here," Olivia spoke up bitterly and Peter pulled out a personal hotspot. "Great, MiFi."

"And you're a Mac guy," Stiles observed as Peter turned the MiFi on and opened the laptop. "Does that go for all werewolves or is it just a personal preference?"

Peter gave him an annoyed look and turned the laptop toward him. "Turn it on and get connected."

Stiles grimaced and flipped the MiFi over, connecting it to the MacBook. "You know, you're really killing the whole werewolf mystique thing here," once he loaded up Google Chrome, he went to the Sprint webpage so he could locate Scott's phone. "Look, you still need Scott's username and password and, I'm sorry, but I don't know them."

"You know both of them."

"No," Stiles insisted. "I don't."

"Even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat, I would still be able to tell that you're lying," Peter said matter-of-factly.

"Dude, I swear to God—"

As soon as Stiles lost his temper, Olivia felt herself being spun around, her back pressed to her dad's chest. She could feel the sharp edges of his claws against her neck and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing that this was all just a nightmare and that her dad wasn't threatening to kill her to get what he wanted.

"I can be very persuasive, Stiles," Peter said, his voice too casual for what he was threatening. Stiles gaped fearfully at him and froze, not wanting to do anything that could get Olivia killed. "Don't make me persuade you."

"Okay, let her go," Stiles quickly turned back to the computer. "I'll do it, just let her go."

Peter chuckled, amused by the fact that Olivia was Stiles' greatest weakness—he used to be the same. He let Olivia go and she flinched away from his blinking back tears.

"What happens after you find Derek?" Stiles asked Peter as he clicked on the log-in button.

"Don't think, Stiles," Peter advised. "Just type."

Stiles pressed his lips together. "You're gonna kill people, aren't you?"

"Only the responsible ones."

Stiles swallowed heavily, guilty at the thought that he was actually helping Peter kill people. "Look, if I do this, you have to promise to leave Scott and Olivia out of it."

Peter sighed heavily. "Do you know why wolves hunt in packs?" he asked, turning to Stiles and Olivia. "It's because their favorite prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone. I need Derek and Scott—and Olivia, once she takes the bite. I need all of them."

Stiles glared at the computer. "Scott's not going to help you."

"Oh, he will," Peter disagreed. "because it'll save Allison. And you will because it will save Scott, your best friend whom you know so well, you even have his username and password."

Stiles pressed his lips together and sighed before typing in Scott's username.

"His username is Allison?" Peter asked in disbelief; Stiles nodded and typed in Scott's password. "His password is also Allison?"

"Still want him in your pack?" Stiles snarked, giving Peter a pointed look.

Peter rolled his eyes heavily, privately thinking that he did have a point.

Olivia watched the laptop impatiently and gasped when the GPS finally loaded, recognizing the location. She couldn't believe Derek had been right under their nose the whole time.

"Wait, what the—?" Stiles fumbled.

"That's where they're keeping him?" Olivia looked at her father. "At the house?"

"Not at it," Peter shut the laptop and put it back in the trunk. "Under it. I know exactly where that is."

The faint sound of a wolf howling echoed through the air, catching their attention. Peter's head whipped toward its direction while Olivia shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms.

"And I'm not the only one," Peter smirked; he turned to Stiles and demanded, "Give me your keys."

Stiles sighed and pulled his keys out of his pocket, handing them to the alpha. "Careful," he warned, thinking that Peter was going to use his Jeep. "she grinds in second."

Peter squeezed the keys in his fist, bending the metal easily. He handed them back to Stiles, who gaped at him.

Peter went to leave but he hesitated. "One more thing."

He reached out to grab Olivia once more, lifting her arm higher. His eyes flashed crimson-red and his fangs descended, causing Olivia to realize what was happening. She began struggling against his hold and Stiles reacted, jumping toward them. He was easily pushed down to the ground by Peter.

"No, Dad, don't!" Olivia pleaded, panicked tears falling down her cheeks. "Please don't!"

Peter wasn't persuaded by her pleads; he bit down on her forearm, his fangs digging deep into her skin. Olivia screamed from the white-hot ache that soared through her body: it was the worst pain she had ever felt by far.

Pulling away from his daughter, Peter threw her on the ground next to Stiles. Stiles scrambled to help her, leaning her up against the car next to them. Once she was settled, holding her heavily bleeding arm against her chest, Stiles jumped to his feet and glowered at Peter.

It felt like Olivia was underwater and it was the pain from the bite holding her beneath the surface. She tilted her head against the car and closed her eyes, trying not to faint. Though their voices were warbled, she could still hear Stiles and Peter speaking.

"I'm trying to avenge my family," Peter told Stiles. "I'm not the bad guy."

Stiles scoffed angrily. "You're not the bad guy?" he raised his voice. "You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs, you're killing people—you just bit your daughter!"

"The bite is a gift," Peter said firmly, casting a brief look at Olivia. He turned back to Stiles and stepped toward him. "You know, I like you, Stiles. Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return...Do you want the bite?"

Stiles' eyes widened at Peter's offer. "What?"

"Do you want the bite?" Peter repeated. "If it doesn't kill you—and it could—you'll become like us," he gestured toward Olivia and Stiles' eyes shot to her.

"Like you?"

"Yes, a werewolf," Peter took another step toward him. "Would you like me to draw you a picture? That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could have easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger and quicker, more popular—watching him get the girl..." he smirked, seeing that Stiles was still staring at Olivia. "You'd be equals, maybe more."

Stiles could see the blood from Olivia's bite dripping down her arm and staining her white dress red. Her face was almost so pale that it seemed translucent and her eyes were shut, as though she was asleep. The only things that told him she was actually awake were the tremors wracking her body and the whimpers of pain escaping her lips.

"Yes or no?" Peter grabbed Stiles' arm, bringing it up to his face.

Stiles' eyes flickered back to him, hardening. Even if he did want to be stronger, to be Scott's equal, he didn't want to be a werewolf like Peter. He didn't want to turn into something he didn't recognize—he didn't want to be like a person who would use his daughter's life for his own gain.

As Peter's fangs slipped out, Stiles ripped his arm out of his grasp.

"I don't wanna be like you," he spat.

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you know what I heard just then?" he asked, thinking of the blip in Stiles' heartbeat. "Your heart beating slightly faster over the words 'I don't want'. You may believe that you're telling me the truth but you are lying to yourself. Goodbye, Stiles."

As Peter got into his nurse's car and drove away, not giving Olivia a second glance, Stiles rushed over to her, kneeling down in front of her.

"Hey, Livvy," Stiles cupped her pale, wet cheek and rubbed his thumb across it. "Wake up, okay?"

"'Mm awake," Olivia slurred tiredly.

Stiles smiled sadly as she opened her eyes. "There's those blue eyes," he looked around, trying not to panic. "I need you to stay awake until we get to the hospital, okay?"

"Mmkay."

"Where's your phone?" he asked quickly, worried about how shallow her breathing was. "Do you have your phone?"

"...Jeep..."

"Okay, stay awake," Stiles breathed before rushing over to his Jeep. He opened the door and grabbed Olivia's purse, digging her phone out of it. He didn't know her passcode but he used the emergency button to call for an ambulance.

He walked back over to Olivia as he spoke to the dispatcher, explaining that there had been an animal attack and that they needed an ambulance at the mall. The dispatcher told him to stay calm while they sent an ambulance his way and stay on the phone with them until they arrived.

It took fifteen minutes for the ambulance to get there, Stiles talking on the phone the whole time to give them updates on Olivia's status and trying to keep her awake. When the paramedics finally arrived, it was all a blur.

He remembered a paramedic asking him questions and then suddenly he was at the hospital.

While Olivia was rushed to the emergency room, he stayed back to give a nurse some of her details, including her driver's permit and the name of her aunt. By the time he was done, he was being questioned by a deputy.

Almost an hour had passed before he went up to the trauma floor, intending to see how Olivia was doing. He ran up the stairs, not having enough patience to wait for a slow elevator ride, and burst onto the floor, seeing more police officers mulling about.

Noah rushed up to him before he could run to Olivia's room.

"You know what," he snapped. "it's a good thing we're in a hospital because I'm gonna kill you."

Stiles clenched his jaw and looked over his dad's shoulder, spotting Olivia in one of the trauma rooms. There were two nurses there with her, including Melissa—which made Stiles feel better—a doctor in surgical scrubs, and Natalie. A bag of blood and saline hung from an IV pole next to her, but Olivia was unconscious.

"Stiles!"

"I'm sorry," he breathed, looking back at his dad. "I, uh, I lost the keys to my Jeep and Olivia—she was attacked. I was—I was with the ambulance—"

"Stiles, I don't care!" Noah raised his voice.

"Is she gonna be okay?"

Noah softened when he saw how devastated his son was. He clapped a hand on Stiles' shoulder and held it in support. "They said she lost a lot of blood," he told him. "She's getting a transfusion and they're stitching her up."

Stiles nodded, relieved that Olivia was recovering. "What about Lydia?"

"She had surgery," Noah informed him and Stiles looked into the window of Lydia's room, seeing that she had a breathing mask attached to her face. "They fixed her up but something else is going on with her."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"The doctors say it's like she's having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock," Noah recalled the doctor's report. "Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked her?"

"No, I have no idea," Stiles shook his head and told his dad the same thing he told the deputy downstairs. "but Olivia was attacked by an animal. I didn't see what kind, it was fast."

Noah nodded understandably. "What about Scott?"

"What do you mean?" Stiles gave him a confused look. "What about him?"

"Did he see anything?"

"What do you—is he not here?" If Scott wasn't here, that meant that he was one of the wolves that they heard howling earlier.

"What are you talking about?" Noah crossed his arms over his chest. "I've been calling him on his cell phone. I've gotten no response."

Stiles looked around his dad again, locking eyes with Jackson, who was waiting by Lydia's room. Jackson shook his head, silently telling Stiles that he hadn't heard from the werewolf.

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his buzzcut. "Yeah, you're not gonna get one."

Once Natalie left Olivia's room to check on Lydia, Stiles snuck in to see her. She was awake now but happened to be a little groggy and high from the pain medicine they were pumping into her. He sat down in the chair next to her bed, gaining her attention.

"Stiles."

"I'm glad you're awake," Stiles smiled weakly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, a little tired and woozy but the doctor said that's from the blood loss," Olivia's voice was kind of dazed but Stiles could tell that she was trying to focus. "Listen, I need you to find Scott and Derek."

"Livvy—"

"Please, Stiles," Olivia pleaded, grabbing his hand to squeeze tightly. "I need you guys to stop my dad before he kills anyone else."

"I-I can try," Stiles nodded, though he didn't know exactly what he was supposed to do against an alpha werewolf. "I'll go see what's going on."

"Thank you, Stiles," Olivia smiled gratefully, squeezing his hand again.

Stiles smiled weakly and squeezed back before releasing her hand. He left Olivia's room in search of his dad, hoping that he'd be given some information. He knew that Derek was being kept at the Hale house but he didn't know much more than that.

"Dad!" he called, spotting his dad down the hall. "Dad, can I—"

"Stiles, just go wait with your friends, all right?" Noah ordered, patting his arm and turning to walk away.

"Dad, tell me what's going on," Stiles demanded, catching up to him. "Look, you know it has something to do with Derek."

"What?" Noah gave him a strange look and stopped in his tracks. "I thought you two said you barely knew him."

"All right, we might know him a little better than that," Stiles admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, he's Olivia's cousin."

Noah looked at him in disbelief and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him along the hallway away from the other police officers. "You do realize that I'm elected to this job, right?"

"And if I help you figure this out, you'll be re-elected," Stiles snarked. "Am I right? Dad, come on."

Noah let go of Stiles and stopped walking, sighing heavily. "You know what, Lydia Martin has got nothing to do with a six-year-old arson case."

Stiles froze; the last he heard from his dad, the case was still unsolved. He knew from getting his dad drunk that all the victims were connected by the Hale house fire, but he hadn't known there was anything else they found out.

"When did you decide it was definitely arson?" he asked.

"When we got a key witness," before Stiles could ask, Noah shook a finger at him. "And, no, I'm not telling you who it is...but yeah, we know it's arson. And it was probably organized by a young woman."

Didn't Olivia say that Kate Argent was the one who killed her family? Stiles thought to himself.

"What young woman?"

Noah scoffed. "If I knew that, she'd be in jail."

"Was she young then or is she young now?" Stiles asked; he had to make sure that Kate was actually the one who organized the fire.

"She's probably in her late twenties," Noah's phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. "Oh, I gotta grab this call."

"You don't know her name?" Stiles grabbed his arm to stop him from walking away.

"No, I don't—what is this, twenty questions?" Noah pulled away from Stiles' grip. "All we know is that she had a very distinctive—what do you call it—a pendant."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "What the hell's a pendant?"

"Stiles, do you go to school?" Noah snapped. "A pendant! It's a necklace. Now, can I answer the phone."

That was all the confirmation Stiles needed; if Derek was right about Laura Hale searching for a necklace that looked exactly like the one Allison wore—Allison, who got her necklace from Kate—then it all fell into place. Peter, who had killed everyone involved with the fire that killed his family and left him comatose for six years, was going after Kate. He was going to kill her—and Olivia wanted Stiles to stop him.

He gained more respect for Olivia than he already had; he wouldn't be able to say that he'd stop someone from killing a person who had hypothetically killed his family. He would have wanted revenge just like Peter.

Stiles waved Noah off and went back to Olivia's room. Natalie was still with Lydia but Jackson was sitting at her bedside, both of them speaking quietly. They looked up at him when he entered.

"I'm heading out," he told Olivia, giving her a pointed look.

Olivia nodded, pursing her lips into a small frown. "Be careful, Stiles."

Stiles nodded, his heart skipping, and left the room. He was halfway down the hall when Jackson caught up with him.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"To find Scott," Stiles snapped, having no patience to deal with the selfish jackass.

"You don't have a car," Jackson pointed out unhelpfully.

"I'm aware of that, thank you."

"Here, I'll drive," Jackson grabbed Stiles' arm, pulling him to a stop. "Come on."

Stiles ripped his arm out of his hand and glowered at him. "Look, just because you feel guilty all of a sudden doesn't make it okay, all right?" he spat. "Half of this is still your fault."

Jackson clenched his jaw but didn't deny Stiles' claims. "Look, I have a car," he stated. "You don't. Do you want my help or not?"

Stiles pursed his lips and conceded, "All right, did you bring the Porsche?"

Jackson nodded and pulled out his keys. "Yeah."

"Good," Stiles grabbed the keys from him. "I'll drive."

They weren't able to take another step to leave the hospital as they came face-to-face with Mr. Argent and two other guys, all dressed in black. Stiles and Jackson stepped away from him, staring with wide eyes.

Mr. Argent smiled pleasantly. "Boys," he greeted politely. "I was wondering if you can tell me where Scott McCall is."

"Scott McCall," Stiles hummed nervously. "Um, I haven't seen him since the dance. Jackson, you?"

Jackson gulped loudly when Stiles looked at him for support. "Uh..." he drawled blankly. "I—"

Stiles rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, for the love of God."

The two men behind Mr. Argent lunged forward, each of them grabbing Stiles and Jackson. They shoved them down the hall, despite their protests, and pushed them into an empty room.

Mr. Argent locked the doors behind them. "Let's try this again," he said sternly. "Where is Scott McCall?"

Stiles, who been thrown into a gurney next to Jackson, stood up straight and glared at the hunter defiantly. "You can fuck off," he cursed loudly. "because I'm not telling you a thing—"

Mr. Argent grabbed the front of Stiles' shirt and pulled him across the room, slamming his back into a cabinet.

"Let me ask you a question, Stiles," Mr. Argent's voice was angry and harsh as he looked into Stiles' equally furious eyes. "Have you ever seen a rabid dog?"

"No, but I could put it on my to-do list if you just let me go," Stiles glanced down at Argent's hands, still gripping the collar of his shirt.

"Well, I have," Mr. Argent said firmly. "And the only thing I've ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. Do you wanna know what happened?"

"Not really," Stiles quipped lowly. "No offense to your story-telling skills."

"He tried to kill me and I was forced to put a bullet in his head," Mr. Argent emphasized his statement by poking Stiles in the forehead, forcefully pushing his head back against the cabinet. "The whole while that he lay there dying, he was still trying to claw his way back toward me, still trying to kill me like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. Can you imagine that?"

"No, and it sounds like you need to be a little more select—"

Mr. Argent cut him off by slamming his hand into the cabinet right next to his head. "Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon?" he shouted. "Did you have to lock him up?"

"Yeah, I did. I had to handcuff him to a radiator," Stiles seethed, glowering at the hunter. His voice shook with rage and his jaw clenched tightly. "Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?"

Mr. Argent reared back like he had been slapped and held up his index finger. "I hate to dispel a popular rumor, Stiles, but we never did that."

"Oh, right," Stiles scoffed. "Olivia said you guys had a code. I guess no one ever breaks it."

Mr. Argent exchanged glances with the two other hunters. "Never."

"What if someone does?"

"Someone like who?" Mr. Argent looked back to Stiles.

Stiles scowled. "Your sister."

Mr. Argent clenched his jaw and abruptly let go of Stiles. He backed away from him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Where are they?" when Stiles didn't answer, Mr. Argent sighed heavily. "I'm not going to hurt Scott if he's innocent. Where. Are. They?"

"The Hale house."

Mr. Argent nodded and nodded at his men; they unlocked the door and left the room.

It was silent for a whole minute while Stiles tried to calm his anger.

And then Jackson spoke, "What now?"

"Now we're gonna learn how to make self-igniting Molotov cocktails."

Stiles sped down the mile-long driveway that led to the Hale house, the Porsche bouncing from the bumps and potholes in the dirt path. Jackson sat in the passenger seat, a scowl on his face, and two freshly made Molotov cocktails in his lap. Stiles pressed on the gas pedal, speeding up.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jackson objected as they flew over a small hill. "This isn't exactly an all-terrain vehicle!"

"Yeah, did you pay for it?" Stiles snarked.

"No."

"Then shut up," he snapped and sped up once more.

They pulled up to the old Hale house within minutes; the alpha—in all his red-eyed, ugly glory—was standing in front of the house, snarling at Scott, who laid a few feet in front of him. Stiles slammed on the breaks and grabbed one of the Molotov cocktails, honking the horn to get the alpha's attention.

He ran out of the Porsche and whipped the Molotov cocktail at the alpha. Unfortunately, the alpha simply caught it and roared in Stiles' direction.

"Fuck," Stiles cursed, flinching back.

Scott looked around quickly, spotting Allison's crossbow. "Allison!" he called for her, grabbing the bow and tossing it to her.

Allison caught the bow and aimed it at the alpha, letting an arrow soar into the cocktail. The beaker broke and exploded, engulfing the alpha's arm in flames. Jackson took the opportunity to throw the other Molotov cocktail; it hit the alpha and caught the rest of his body on fire.

The alpha roared loudly and stumbled around, his gaze landing on Allison. Before he could take a step toward her, Scott shouted and sprang up, jumping into the air. He kicked the alpha away from Allison, where he landed on the ground, changing back into Peter.

Stiles sighed in relief, glad that it was finally over.

While Allison and Scott made up, kissing and exchanging their love, Derek slowly walked out of the house. Stiles watched curiously as he made his way to Peter, glaring down at him.

Scott saw Derek ready to kill Peter and jumped to his feet, running over to him.

"Wait!" he called, catching the older werewolf's attention as he kneeled next to his uncle's burnt body. "You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I'm dead."

Derek pressed his lips together and it wasn't hard for Stiles to guess that he had lied to Scott about the cure. Derek just wanted Scott's help to take down Peter.

"Her father, her family," Scott continued begging. "what am I supposed to do?"

"You've...already...decided..." Peter breathed painfully. His eyes glowed red as he snarled, "I can smell it on you!"

Derek raised his hand, his claws growing from his nail beds, and Scott lunged, "Wait, no, don't!"

Derek thrust his arm forward, slashing his claws along Peter's neck. Peter made a gurgling sound as he choked on his blood and took his last breath. Derek stood up and turned toward Scott, his eyes glowing the red of an alpha.

"I'm the alpha now," he declared.

Olivia stared at Derek, studying him to see if there was anything else that was different about him. She knew his eyes had changed from their usual icy-blue to the alpha-red but there had to be something else that had changed, too.

Derek stared back at her, resting his arms on the side of her hospital bed. She could see the curious look in his eyes, along with shame, but she didn't fault him for killing Peter. The man she knew as her father died long ago when Kate planned that fire. The alpha hadn't been her dad that she loved. She lost him a long time ago.

Olivia was just glad that it was all over. Kate was dead—courtesy of Peter—and Peter had been stopped. Derek was now alpha and he could start building his own pack, which now included her.

"Well?" she broke the silence.

Derek glanced out of the window in her room, glad that he was officially cleared of all the murders he was accused of, and then looked back at her.

"Her bite wasn't healed," Derek told Olivia, looking back at her.

"Not at all?"

"Not at all," Derek confirmed.

"But Aunt Natalie said she'd be fine," Olivia was confused—you either turned or died. "Do you think she's rejecting it?"

Derek frowned, remembering his first love. "I don't know," he said quietly. "But she's not a werewolf, which means—"

"She's something else."

Derek nodded. "What about you?" he asked. "How's your bite?"

Olivia grimaced and held up her injured arm, the gauze wrapped around it stained slightly from excess blood. "See for yourself."

Derek reached forward and carefully unwrapped the bandage. He removed the bloody gauze and sucked in a deep breath at the sight of her wound. It was stitched up but completely fresh—no healing had been done.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "It's not healed."

"Yeah, I could tell by how much it hurts," Olivia grumbled, frowning at her wound which was bound to scar. "So, I'm not a werewolf, either...how am I supposed to know what I am?"

Derek squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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spacesnail3000 · 5 years ago

Text

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 2: Diamonds Are Forever, Those Boys Ain’t

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but can diamonds keep her company all summer at Martha’s Vineyard? She didn’t think so.

Word Count: 4,336

Warnings: Language, drinking, eventual smut

Masterlist / AO3

The next morning, Y/N sat at the kitchen table, eating the Eggs Benedict their chef, Rita, had made, when her father walked in.

Obadiah sat down at the kitchen table and stared at his daughter. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Daddy,” she greeted him, her voice light.

“What do you want?”

It was his way of apologizing for the night before. They’d been through this enough times that it was now a routine.

When he yelled at her during her celebratory end-of-eighth-grade-sleepover, she got a brand-new MacBook out of it. When he screamed at her homecoming date in sophomore year, he gave her a St. Bernard puppy. When he cursed out her coach at her state qualifiers swim meet the year before, he bought her a white gold and diamond tennis bracelet.

She wore the bracelet now, and the dog, a Sweet Good Boy named Hermes, sat at her feet, looking warily up at her father. Hermes and Obadiah had quite the hateful relationship.

Hermes was just a good judge of character.

“I want Steve and Bucky to come with me this summer.”

She had thought about it all last night, knowing her father would come to her this morning with a peace offering—more like a way of buying her forgiveness. And she knew what she wanted, which was to spend the summer with her two closest friends since childhood.

Every summer, her father sent her off to their vacation houses. The cabin in the Adirondacks, the beach house in the Hamptons, the cottage at Martha’s Vineyard. Each time, she was accompanied by a small entourage—people to keep her safe and to keep her from being bored, because of course her parents weren’t about to spend the entire summer with their daughter.

Steve and Bucky had gone with her on several of these trips but had made no plans to be with her for this summer, which was outrageous to her because they were the perfect pair to keep her both safe and entertained.

She was headed to the cottage in a week and she wanted her favorite boys to be there, no matter if one was not speaking to her and the other had forced a very interesting kiss on her the night before.

So maybe the kiss she shared with Bucky had prompted this whole idea, but she sure as hell couldn’t ask her father for only Bucky to come. That would be suspicious. And she did miss Steve, so she hoped this would give her the chance to smooth things over with him.

Even if he was a big dumb blond hunk of meat.

“That’s all you want?” her father asked suspiciously, expecting the other shoe to drop.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Really?” he stole a piece of toast from her plate, and she glared at him. As he chewed, he said, “You know, diamonds are forever, those boys ain’t.”

Simpering, she quipped, “Whoever said diamonds are a girl’s best friend hasn’t met Steve and Bucky.” Then, “A new Balenciaga bag would sweeten the deal. But mostly I just want them with me for the whole summer.”

“Sure thing, sweetie, whatever you want.”

As their weekly mob meeting later that night finished up, Obadiah broke the news to Steve and Bucky. It worked out well for Obadiah. He hadn’t known who he was going to send with his daughter to protect her until she made the decision for him. Stark had taken an interest in the Rogers kid for some reason, had big plans for him over the summer, but he had managed to talk Stark into letting him go at least for a little while.

“You two will be accompanying Y/N this summer,” Obadiah said with an air of finality, “Your job is to keep her safe and happy.”

That had always been their job. To anybody remotely concerned, that was Bucky’s and Steve’s sole purpose for being alive.

They hadn’t been doing that good of a job of it for the last few months—at least not the “keeping her happy” part.

The boys didn’t argue—not to Obadiah’s face. They didn’t have a death wish.

“You’re leaving in a week for Martha’s Vineyard.”

Tony sent them a look that told them he approved of this and they had no choice in the matter, before he exited behind Obadiah.

Sam waggled his eyebrows at them. “Make sure to pack your swim trunks, boys. Oh, and you’ll have to find a guard-dog-friendly beach. Pets allowed, and all that.” He snickered as Bucky flipped him off before he exited the room.

As the last two in the meeting room, Bucky and Steve looked at each other. Bucky’s gaze was pleading—Steve had barely spoken to him the entire day, and when he had, it had been clipped statements that simmered with an angry undertone. Steve’s gaze now was even angrier.

“What the fuck, Bucky?”

That was all Steve said before leaving.

Bucky had no idea why Steve was so mad—aside from the obvious fact that he kissed Y/N. Even then, Bucky thought it was hypocritical of Steve to be mad over such a thing considering he had also kissed Y/N last year. Bucky had told Steve as much earlier, and Steve only responded by getting even angrier.

Bucky made his way into the kitchen, where everyone was gathered for the big family dinner they always had every Sunday, right after the official weekly meeting. Tonight, Tony’s chefs had prepared a variety of Indian cuisine for them.

He spotted Y/N on the other side of the kitchen. She had just come in from the backyard with Peter Parker, Tony’s boy, and she was barefoot. Bucky started to make his way over to her but Steve got there before he did. Peter scurried away when Steve made eye contact with him.

“So,” Steve said, sidling up to her right by the kitchen table, effectively trapping her between him and the table. “Martha’s Vineyard, huh?” His voice was hard, slightly annoyed.

She looked up at him with that sweet smile. Her lips were glossy with lip balm and she smelled like the sun. “Yeah, I thought it would be fun. Are you excited?”

He sighed her name, exasperated.

“Hey,” she said before he could say anything else, “I’m wearing the necklace you got me. Thank you, it’s perfect. I love it.” She hooked her thumb around the chain and showed him the gift he got for her birthday. It was a silver locket, an engraving of the sun on the front.

His eyes softened when he saw that, and he smiled at her genuinely for the first time in a year. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not sure what pictures I should put in it, yet,” she said, fingers opening and closing the latch of the locket with a little snap. “Maybe we’ll take some good photos at Martha’s Vineyard.”

He hesitated before asking, “Why did you want us there this summer?”

“I miss you guys,” she answered earnestly. “You never spend time with me anymore. And next semester, I’ll probably be at NYU, maybe. And then I’ll never be around and I’ll never see either of you.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I just want one summer with you guys. Is that too much to ask for?” Her puppy dog eyes hit him in just the right spot.

“No,” he sighed, giving her a small smile, “No, it’s not too much… It’ll be fun. We’re excited.”

Y/N parted from him then, squeezing past him to make her way into the living room to talk to Wanda and Pietro Maximoff before dinner started.

Bucky came over to Steve and Steve sighed. “I couldn’t stay mad at her.”

“You don’t really have a reason to be mad at her,” Bucky pointed out, “Not really.”

“I know…” he turned to Bucky, eyeing him. “Do I have a reason to be mad at you, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged. “I told you, the kiss was an accident. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah… Okay… Sorry for bein’ an ass.”

“S’okay,” Bucky clapped him on the back. “I’m used to it by now.”

Steve laughed and punched at Bucky’s shoulder, and then dinner was called.

A week later, Steve and Bucky were packing their suitcases into the SUV for them to get ready to go on the six-hour trip to Martha’s Vineyard. They had gotten a late start and probably wouldn’t be there until it was dark.

Steve drove and Bucky rode shotgun, dictating the music the entire drive—much to Steve’s and Y/N’s chagrin. She sat in the back with Hermes and chattered with them both about nothing for the first half of the drive.

They were already behind schedule, and it was only made worse when Bucky and Y/N demanded they stop for a bathroom break about three times each—Steve was seething by the last time. He calmed down when she came back from the gas station convenience store with a bag of M&M’s for him—his favorite candy.

They had stopped for a late lunch at a pizza place in Boston—and had gone 40 minutes out of their way for it. Between the three of them, they had devoured three pizzas and a whole basket of garlic knots. It had sent Y/N into a food-induced stupor. By the time they were pulling up to the Stanes’ cottage, she was fast asleep, using the dog as a pillow.

He and Steve carried all the luggage in before they contemplated waking her up.

“Let her sleep,” Bucky said, “She’ll probably be out for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll carry her in,” Steve said as Hermes jumped out, “Can you get the dog?”

Bucky obliged. He let the dog go into the fenced-in backyard.

The cottage at Martha’s Vineyard wasn’t so much a cottage as a 6-bedroom converted-barn-turned-luxury-mansion overlooking the water, complete with a big fancy backyard and a pool and access to the beachside and a private dock. Bucky was always blown away every time they visited and this time was no different.

He stood in the backyard admiring the black waters while Hermes did his business.

“I set her on the couch,” Steve said, startling Bucky.

Bucky looked back to see Steve on the porch, taking a seat on the porch swing that faced the ocean. He walked over, taking a seat next to him. Their arms brushed together as they settled in.

“Here,” Steve said, handing him a bottle of whiskey. “They’ve got this place stocked with liquor but no food. We’ll have to make a grocery run tomorrow.”

Bucky grunted in response as he took a long drink. It had been a long day, and truthfully, all he could think of doing right now was going to bed. Instead, he stayed up with Steve, ready to relax on their vacation after the last stressful few months.

Tony had taken Steve under his wing, mentoring him into a more important place in the mob. It was the start of something big, Steve kept saying. Bucky was excited for his friend, if not a little jealous. But Steve deserved it, he knew; Steve was always the more determined of the two of them, always the more ruthless one.

So tonight, Bucky welcomed the respite. As they chatted and ribbed each other over the bottle of whiskey, it was like nothing had changed.

The conversation had turned to Steve and Peggy, and Steve was saying, “Yeah, Peg’s great, but I dunno. She doesn’t really get it.”

“Get what?” But Bucky had a feeling he knew what Steve was talking about. He took another swig of whiskey before passing the bottle to Steve.

“The mob, the life we live. She doesn’t know the half of it, and if she did… She wouldn’t stick with me through it.”

“You need someone who already knows our life, Stevie. Someone who understands.”

Steve was quiet for a moment before saying, “Someone like Y/N?”

Bucky stiffened. That hadn’t been what he was going for, but Y/N was on the back of his mind when he said it. She had been on his mind since last week. He laughed it off. “C’mon, Stevie, you think Stane would let you have her?”

“Stane’s been thinking of who to marry her off to,” Steve said after a long drink. “Only reason he’s letting her go to NYU is ‘cause he hasn’t had any good contenders yet.”

“And you think you’re gonna put in an offer?”

Steve scoffed. “No. I’m dating Peggy, Buck. C’mon.”

“But if you weren’t?”

Steve looked beside him to find Bucky already staring at him intently. They made eye contact, the air between them tense. Finally, Steve shrugged. “I’m not sure, Buck. Maybe I should be askin’ you the same thing.”

“Does it look like I’m ready to settle down and take a bride?” he asked, giving Steve and incredulous look. Steve laughed and looked down at his lap, shaking his head, doing that bashful thing even when Bucky knew he wasn’t bashful at all. “Besides, I wouldn’t do that to her.”

Steve knew what he meant. Tying her to the mob, for as long as they both shall live. Mob wives were much more involved than the children of the mob, and they both knew Y/N was too sweet and innocent for that.

Steve’s smile fell away and he nodded, thinking it over. “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to either.”

They had both had quite a bit of whiskey by now, and Bucky was feeling brave. “Tell me about when you kissed her, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he looked at Bucky with a shocked expression. “You know about that?”

“Yeah, she told me the other night,” Bucky answered, taking the bottle from Steve as he was about to take a drink. “’Fess up, punk. Don’t avoid the question.”

He let out a long sigh, his shoulders drooping, hands braced on his knees. “Fine. But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Who the fuck would I tell?”

Steve swatted at his knee. “I don’t fucking know, just keep your mouth shut about it. Got it?” When Bucky nodded, Steve continued. “It was the end of last summer when we were all in Southampton. She snuck out with some of her friends to a party one night, and I caught her coming back late. I was just startin’ to lay into her about it when she started crying—and not her usual crying when she’s bein’ a brat, you know?”

Bucky knew. She got real teary eyed sometimes when they caught her doing something she shouldn’t have been, specifically when Steve started yelling at her. But usually she took his scolding with a stiff upper lip, unless he was being really unfair.

“She starts sobbing, and I can tell something’s really wrong. So I hug her and coddle her and eventually she tells me that some guys at the party were makin’ fun of her because she’s a virgin.” Steve clenched his jaw, remembering the way she blushed when she told him, the way she looked down and whispered it like she was ashamed of it. “And so I’m trying to tell her there’s nothing wrong with that, and she tells me she’s never even kissed anyone, and how is any guy ever gonna like her if she doesn’t even have any experience.”

“So you kissed her?” Bucky asked, remembering Y/N had said that he had offered.

Steve shook his head, laughing a little. “I don’t know what came over me. She was just so sad, and you know I have a soft spot for girls when they cry.”

Bucky knew very well about Steve’s weakness for people when they cried—not just girls. He and Steve had experimented in bed plenty of times and if there was one thing they had found out, it was that Steve loved it when Bucky cried. It really got him going for some reason.

“I wouldn’t call it a soft spot…” Bucky muttered, earning a punch on the arm. Steve still laughed about it good-naturedly.

“She was lookin’ up at me, all doe-eyed, and red, and sad. Kinda like how you used to look at me, Buck.”

Bucky looks at him, surprised, and memories of their times together flash through Bucky’s mind. They were each other’s firsts, stumbling their way through puberty and coming-of-age and the discovery of teenaged sexuality together. It wasn’t until after he experimented thoroughly with Steve in many different ways that he became the Lothario he is today. He feels his cheeks heat up at the images his brain conjures of them together in bed, touching and kissing, dry-humping each other until Bucky came in his pants.

“Yeah, like that,” Steve said, looking at him with a fond smile, something dark gleaming in his eyes. And truly, Steve thinks Bucky looks wonderful right now, all flushed and shocked and exactly like he did when Steve fucked him for the first time when they were 16.

So maybe Steve has a type for innocent young things who blush a lot. That’s why he was trying to stay away from Y/N. Maybe that’s why Steve had always felt like Peggy was wrong for him but staying with Peggy was such a great distraction for now.

“So I couldn’t help myself,” Steve shrugged. “I asked. I didn’t just force myself on her.” Part of Bucky feels sheepish at that, because that was exactly how he kissed her the night of her birthday, forcefully, predatorily. The other part remembers how nice it was every time Steve forced himself on Bucky in the heat of the moment. “I asked if she wanted me to kiss her just to see how it felt. And she said yes. So I kissed her.”

“Did you like it?” Bucky asked. He couldn’t help it.

The blush on Steve’s cheeks surprised Bucky. “Yeah, I guess I did. But don’t you ever tell anyone that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. As if he would. “If you liked it, why’d you ignore her afterwards?”

“What? I didn’t!”

“Don’t bullshit me, Steve. You can’t bullshit me, I see right through you, pal.”

Steve looked down. The red hadn’t faded from his cheeks. “I dunno. I liked it too much, maybe. Stane would kill me if anything happened between us.”

Bucky got it, then. Steve liked it, and he needed to put distance between them to stop himself from taking things further.

“And then I found Peggy, and I just got too busy with Tony. So Y/N and I stopped talking as much.”

Bucky thought about this, but in his tipsiness, his dazed mind kept wandering back to how he kissed her. He kissed her like Steve used to kiss him, and he wondered if Steve kissed her the same way.

“How was it, Stevie?” he asked, a question that had been on his mind for a week now. “How was the kiss?”

Steve smirked knowingly. “Nothing like how I used to kiss you, that’s for sure.”

Bucky remembered their first few times together, sweet and tentative, innocent explorations. Steve had kissed him kindly then, but they had both quickly found out they liked it when Steve took charge. When Steve was rough with him, showed him no mercy.

But Bucky only liked it when Steve did that to him. None of the other men or women he had been with were the same in that regard. He only trusted Steve to take that power away from him, knowing Steve would never hurt him.

He supposed Steve liked the control aspect of it. As for Bucky, he needed that control whenever he was with anybody else.

“Guys?” they heard from the doorway after a brief silence. Hermes, who had been lying at their feet dozing, immediately got up and trotted over to where Y/N was standing, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve said, “You just wake up?”

She nodded and padded over to them, Hermes following her loyally. Her feet were bare and she was still wearing her clothes from earlier, leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with her high school’s mascot on the front. Bucky thought the sweatshirt had belonged to Steve once, or maybe him—or maybe both, he couldn’t recall.

She took a seat between them and slumped down onto Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m tired,” There was a little pout on her lips, puffy and sleep-swollen.

“Then go back to bed,” Bucky told her, draping his right arm around the back of the bench, letting her rest her head on his chest.

“Can’t fall back asleep.”

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked, ever the doting mother hen. “There’s not food in the kitchen, but maybe we could go pick something up.”

She shook her head. “I’m still full from the pizza.”

“Well, we’ll go for an early breakfast tomorrow,” Steve said, “Any place you want.”

“Okay, Stevie,” she said, smiling up at him sleepily.

Steve couldn’t help himself when he swung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to rest on his chest instead. She went willingly, cuddling into him. Bucky sent him a look, and Steve raised an eyebrow back—a little like a challenge, one that Bucky did not accept. Instead, he yielded to Steve, resting his right hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder, feeling the need to be close. Her legs came up to rest on Bucky’s lap and she just sat there with them, enjoying the night.

Just like old times.

“Are you guys staying with me for the whole summer?” she asked, her voice muffled into Steve’s unusually large peck.

“I dunno, doll, is that what you asked your dad for?” Steve asked knowingly.

She shrugged and buried her face deeper. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean he’ll keep his word.”

“We’re here until further notice,” Bucky said. “Steve might get called away occasionally.”

“Because of Tony?” she asked, her voice small.

“Yeah,” Steve said, pressing his lips to the crown of her head in a kiss, “But you don’t need to worry your pretty head about that.”

“Okay.”

“Now, doll,” Bucky started, placing his left hand on her calf. She glanced at him from Steve’s chest. “Are you gonna behave with us this summer?”

She blushed, but a smirk fell across her face. “Of course I will, Bucky,” she said in a tone that implied the exact opposite.

His hand slid up to her knee. “Not gonna go getting into any trouble with all the teenage hooligans on the island?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why would I want to get in trouble with them when I could get in trouble with you guys, instead?”

Steve’s arm tightened around her shoulders in a way that was just a little bit threatening. “Now, Y/N, listen to me,” he said, using his serious voice, “Your dad wanted us to keep you safe. You’re not gonna go around making trouble for us. Got it?”

“I guess,” she whined. Steve didn’t like that.

His hand came up and cupped her jaw, tilting her head up forcefully so she looked at him. “Don’t be a brat,” he said, a warning in his tone, “You’re gonna be a good girl for us or there’ll be consequences.”

“Steve,” she pouted, the whine still in her voice.

He grit his teeth, and his fingers squeezed her jaw just hard enough for her to get the message. “No complaining, baby girl. Now you say ‘Yes, Steve’, so I know you understand.”

“…Yes, Steve.”

He let her go, and she tried to pull away from him but his arm around her shoulders anchored her against him. Bucky’s hand moved from Steve’s shoulder to her head, stroking his fingers through her soft hair to sooth and reassure her.

They were all silent then, like they often were after Steve scolded her. It was a familiar dance for them. When she got bratty or if she did something wrong, Steve would reprimand her sternly, while Bucky sat by and watched. Then, both Bucky and Steve would calm her down so she knew they forgave her. It worked to correct her misbehavior every time, but it took all three of them.

With Steve rocking them gently on the porch swing and Bucky running his fingers through her hair, it didn’t take long to lull her back to sleep.

Steve carried her upstairs to put her to bed, and Bucky followed, turning down the covers and tucking her in. Hermes curled up on the bed at her feet, settling down and dozing off right next to her.

Steve had already placed their luggage in the rooms they would be staying in, all their rooms side by side in the same hall.

Bucky followed Steve to their respective bedrooms, and they lingered in the doorways.

“Do you think I was too hard on her?” Steve asked. They spoke quietly in the mellow darkness of the night. Bucky could hear the waves crashing on the beach out back.

“Nah,” Bucky reassured him, “She can take it. Plus, it’d be nice if she didn’t act up during this trip.” He could hope she wouldn’t, at least.

Steve nodded. “She gets so ballsy on these vacations when her dad’s not here.”

“Well,” Bucky said, clapping him on the shoulder, “If she gets like that this summer, you’re here to put her in her place.”

Steve looked at him, dark eyes glinting. “Damn right,” he said, voice low. Bucky couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but Steve’s tone of voice sent a shudder through him. “We should get to bed,” Steve said finally, breaking up the tense atmosphere. “I’m waking you both up early tomorrow.”

Bucky groaned, “Ugh, c’mon Stevie. Let us sleep in.”

Steve grinned, “No chance, Buck. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Bucky said, his voice soft as he watched Steve retreat into his bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

He let out a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. It was going to be a long, intense summer, he could already tell.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #dark!steve rogers #bucky barnes fic #dark!bucky barnes #fanfiction #mcu #stucky #stucky x reader #brooklyn’s sweetheart

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sevngmin · 6 years ago

Text

dreams of dreams

synopsis: what happens when two broke college students live together, out of their own will?

a/n: a spinoff from @changbeanie ‘s hyunjin au, do give it a read<3 also, this took quite a while as i had school too,,, rip

genre: fluff, lowkey enemies-to-lovers!au but not rlly, college!au based off The Last Summer on Netflix

listen to: Bloom-Troye Sivan

member: jisung

word count: 3,554

[0830]

College.

You were prepared for the monotonous lecturers, back-to-back assignment deadlines and dreaded 9am classes. Even better, your best friend introduced you(or rather, helped you to find) an apartment right beside hers and a cute roommate. Everything seemed so well planned out. You were a broke media and communications major, and you basically blew almost all of your life savings on the latest MacBook Pro your school made you buy before you started the school term.

Luckily, your parents offered to pay your school fees and rent, on top of giving you a weekly allowance. You couldn’t ask for more, in fact, you had more than what you asked for. You were grateful, to say the least.

However, you wished you had more patience for untidy people, especially your roommate, Han Jisung.

You didn’t expect much from Jisung, in fact, you did not even expect anything from a friend of a friend. You thought he was just a shy, cute, introverted music production major that would at least, have the courtesy to clean up his dirty clothes strewn on the floor for whatever reason.

You weren’t that much of a clean freak, to be honest. You yourself wasn’t the cleanest of people but you’d at least clean up once every 2 days or so.

Jisung... not really.

You have lived with him for about 2 months or so and became good friends with him. You would be damned, Jisung was almost the embodiment of boyfriend, kind eyes, soft, plump lips, not very tall but still tall enough to tower over you, a good sense of humour, good at his major, probably enough life savings to last him till the workforce, and more traits you couldn’t think of because he was that perfect.

Almost, you would stress. Because of his untidiness, which was the cause of 80% of the accidents you encountered ever since you moved into the apartment with him. You have screeched at the boy countless times for his untidiness, which, your friend had warned you about but didn’t take into consideration as you had more than what you can ask for.

You really didn’t expect Jisung to be that messy.

“Han Jisung!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, as you picked up the what seemed like the 5th article of clothing that wasn’t yours.

“Ah, so there it was!” Jisung’s face lightened up as he saw the t-shirt you were holding, only to be disappointed when you tossed it into the laundry basket before he could even reach for it.

“You have no idea,” You seethed, “How many times I nearly fell to my death because of your clothes, Han Jisung.”

“I told you I’ll clean it up!” Jisung argued, now picking up his own clothes, “It wasn’t that long anyway.”

You sighed in exasperation, pinching your nose bridge, “Yeah, a week wasn’t that long for me to fall on my butt countless times.”

“Then why are you wearing my clothes?” Jisung retorted, pointing at the dark purple hoodie that was indeed, way too oversized for your petite figure.

Your face reddens, then you cleared your throat, “I might have stolen it but-- that’s not the point! You should clean up like, once every two days or something.”

“I’m busy!”

“So am I!”

“I’ll treat you to fried dumplings later.” Jisung proposed, which made your eyes light up with excitement.

“At the one near our school?” You nearly drooled at the thought of your favourite fried dumplings, blinking your eyes.

“Yes, now eat your breakfast, we’re almost late.” Jisung pushed you to the breakfast table which had two bowls of cereal, ready to eat.

You could never get angry at Jisung for long, especially when he knew the way to forgiveness was through your stomach.

[1630]

you: hey

messy brat: what’s up

messy brat: i swear if you ditch on us again im not buying you food anymore

you: yeah but this time i really have a project to complete,,, like actually

messy brat: what project is it

you: come over to the video editing studio then

messy brat: aight

“Thanks for helping me out,” you thanked Hyunjin as you took off your headphones, hanging them on the video camera, “media and communications isn’t that fun after all, huh.”

“You learn a little bit of everything so I guess that would be helpful in the future,” Hyunjin smoothened out his shirt, slouching into the seat, “I guess that’s a more stable future than dancing.”

Just then, the heavy door of the video editing room opened, revealing a lethargic Jisung, auburn hair messily covered with a bucket hat, airpods snugly stuck into his ears. Today was one of the days he decided to dress up, with a white button up short sleeved shirt and black bermudas. You have seen this many times; in the apartment where he would lazily throw off his shoes somewhere in the nirvana of the shoe closet, then plopping himself face-first on the sofa. Then you would nag at him to shower before he falls asleep on the couch and then forgets to do his assignments. But he always manages to hustle his work right before class starts and get an A. You didn’t know how, but he still does.

Weirdly, today your heart raced fast, aching a little at the sight of your tired roommate. He must’ve sat through a 3-hour lecture which he had absolutely no interest in, and then rush over to you, looking forward to eating dumplings but instead ending up at the most desolate end of the campus.

“That was fast,” You noted, ignoring your racing heart, “and yeah, I’m doing some video thing for my project.”

“Hey,” Jisung greeted Hyunjin, who suspiciously eyed the both of you but left the studio quietly, “When is it due?”

“Next week,” You sighed as you leaned onto the creaky revolving chair your school never replaced at the editing station, “I even have to use two software for this. Premiere Pro and ProTools. Premiere Pro is fine but ProTools’ such a pain, like, I accidentally keep deleting parts that I need, then record them again.”

Jisung took his seat beside you on another creaky revolving chair, then with a few clicks of the mouse, your audio track was in one beautiful piece, running smoothly with no awkward cuts or dead air.

“H-how...” You scratched your head, still in awe of how Jisung could get your job done in supposedly 3 minutes when you couldn’t even get it properly done in 3 hours.

“ProTools can be pretty intimidating if you’re not using it regularly,” Jisung explains, helping you add in more of the audio tracks that you were going to get to, “Once you get the hang of it, it’s almost like your best friend.”

You nodded mindlessly, only registering half of whatever Jisung was saying. You just didn’t get it, some people are naturally talented, cute, good talkers, or all of them. Jisung was one of them, (annoyingly)talented at seemingly everything he touches. You shook your head, getting those thoughts out of your head. Crushing on your roommate was not going to do you any good, in fact, it will only make it more awkward when both of you practically live in the same space.

“I kinda need an intro, outro and background song for the video...” You bit your lip, “Could you help me with that?”

“I do have a few tracks I made when I was bored, but I need to make one more suitable one for your background music.” Jisung tapped his chin, slightly immersing himself in his thoughts, “Give me two days, tops. I’ll bring it over here and help you edit it in.”

“Really?” You really didn’t expect Jisung to help, sending him a sincere smile, “Thanks Jisung, it means a lot.”

“Woah, where did the dorm y/n go?” Jisung joked, raising his eyebrows, “You’re really different when you’re in school.”

“That’s only because you don’t clean up.” You stuck your tongue out, walking over to the video recorder. “I need you in my interview too. You’re the one person I need to complete the video and I’m good to edit the whole thing.”

“Don’t forget to thank me when you get a 4.0 on this module,” Jisung nudged you playfully, taking his seat behind the camera. “I’m ready.”

“Ready, 3, 2, 1, action!”

Hello Jisung, thank you for agreeing to this interview. For the viewers of this programme, can you introduce yourself briefly?

Hello, I am Han Jisung, a music production major.

So Jisung, have you had any childhood crushes?

I did, there was this girl who was my partner in kindergarten and we would always sit together at lunch. We would hold hands and make our way to the canteen, and play with toys together during playtime. I never saw her again after kindergarten though, we went to different schools after that.

Have you dated before?

Yes, I have, but it was only with 1-2 girls. We barely dated for a week and then we broke up. Our interests didn’t align I guess. I studied pretty hard back in high school to be a music production major in this college, hence I had no time to date around or develop a crush on anyone at that point in time. So far in college, I haven’t dated though.

Do you have a crush right now? If so, do describe her briefly.

I do. She’s nice, pretty and caring. She’s also very hard working and very driven. Sometimes she does tell me off too much but that’s for my own good so I can’t really fault her with that. She’s also good at her major, even though sometimes she stresses herself out too much over it. I wished she feels the same though because it would be really awkward for us if I made the move and she doesn’t reciprocate.

Care to explain?

We... are in this point of friendship where it can either end badly or well. By ending well I mean, we would end up dating or eventually being a thing. By ending bad... she might not talk to me for the rest of the time we’re friends or.. not even friends anymore.

Thank you for agreeing to this interview. Would you like to leave a few words for your crush and the viewers?

For the viewers, don’t be afraid to like someone. It’s normal and people have feelings. Don’t be a home wrecker though. That’s bad. As for my crush... I’m not sure if she’ll see this but I hope that she’s eating well and sleeping well. Assignment deadlines are coming and I don’t want her to stress out so much. Also, I’m not sure when I’ll confess to her about my feelings but I’ll accept whatever choice she makes.

[2230]

“Who’s that lucky girl?” You teased Jisung, taking out your airpods momentarily, “Your crush.”

Jisung shrugged, tapping away on his laptop, “I could be lying for all you know.”

You threw a pillow at Jisung, “You’re not supposed to lie! I’ll make you record the whole thing again if you really lied.”

“Okay, I didn’t” Jisung defended himself with his arms in the air in defeat, “I’m not telling you. Crushes are supposed to be a secret.”

You threw your head backwards in laughter, “What are you? 8? We don’t pull this kind of crap anymore.”

“Just focus on editing, miss y/n,” Jisung mock glared at you, “It’s due next week and all you care about is the identity of my crush? How boring must’ve my interview been.”

“It’s actually one of the more interesting ones,” You commented, trimming the unwanted parts of the interview, like Jisung mocking you, putting his face too close to the camera for no reason, and him tripping over his words. Cute, but your lecturer would think of it as unprofessional. “I just need to cut out your stupid antics. What a waste of my memory on my hard drive.”

“You could’ve just put it in the bloopers,” Jisung muttered, “Also, I’m done with your music.”

You scooted over to sit beside Jisung, sharing one of his airpods as the music played, he somehow knew what you wanted, just the perfect vibe of the song that fitted your interviews. Your cheeks blushed slightly at the proximity of the both of you, laptops on your laps and old comforter draped lazily over your legs. You were so close, you could smell the remnants of cologne Jisung sprayed on this morning. He smelled of warm cotton, in addition to the calming music Jisung made for the background music, lulling you to slumber within a few minutes.

“How is it? Do you--” Jisung sat up excitedly, expecting a response from you, but only to see your eyes shut, head nestled ever so slightly on his chest. He smiled to himself, then gently draping over the comforter over your body. Jisung tucked a stray hair behind your ear, taking in your peaceful and steady breathing.

As he inched closer, he wanted to know how your lips still remained pink even after removing your makeup(not like you needed any, he thought to himself, you were even more beautiful without it), and how they would feel on his.

Before he could place his lips on yours, he snapped out of his sleepy reverie and shifted to a more comfortable position for you, sighing to himself,

“Goodnight and sweet dreams, my dear crush.”

[1130]

There you were, seated in the video editing studio again, trying to add a few finishing touches to your assignment. Everything was going well, until Protools decided to crash on you, letting all your efforts thus far of editing audio go to waste.

You buried your face in your palm for what seemed like the 10th time, trying to compose yourself. At times like this, you would very much appreciate Jisung’s help.

As if Jisung heard your thoughts, the boy busted through the door, this time with two cups of iced coffee, “I ended early, so I figured if I could help out before you submit your assignment.”

“Thanks, Jisung,” You accepted the iced coffee gratefully, giving your roommate a side hug, “Protools crashed on me again. Also, I have some problem with the mic. The levels don’t seem to be right and I have to submit this in 4 hours please help me I’m panicking.”

“Woah okay, chill,” Jisung settled his drink and backpack down, taking his seat beside you and putting his arm on the back of your seat, “Before you start recording, check the gain and buttons on the console. Maybe someone was trying to be a bitch and messed with them. Also, how many times did I tell you to save your session after every change? Protools isn’t always ‘healthy’ you know? Protools will crash at times too.”

Jisung started to notice the worry traced on your face, then scooted closer to you and held your hands in his, “I know the deadline’s in a few days, but I just wanted to tell you that you’re actually doing so so good? Even for someone who doesn’t major in music production. I’m sure your file isn’t lost somewhere, we can retrieve it. And I’m here to help you too, hmm? I’m pretty sure your classmates don’t have a ‘music major friend’ privilege.”

Your face started to redden, not only at Jisung’s words but also the proximity, he was so close, if you were a little closer you would kiss him right there and then. The video editing studio didn’t seem so cold anymore, but rather warm with the body heat the both of you were radiating at this very moment.

Too close... to remain friends?

You pulled away from Jisung, eyes avoiding his, “Y-yeah... sure. The stress just got to my head so I kinda took it out on you, sorry.”

“It’s fine, we all get stressed sometimes.” Jisung grabs the mouse and like before, your work was recovered in just a few clicks, “I got it back. Your clip seems fine, I think it’s good to go.”

“Wow um, thanks Jisung.” You really had no idea what to say other than “thank you” to Jisung, he had been more than of what you could ask for throughout your editing process, also being especially nice and patient when explaining technical terms to you. Now all that’s left to do is to confess to him, but you were scared to ruin the precious friendship the both of you shared thus far.

Too close... to ruin it all.

“Don’t you have some showcase thing?” Jisung comments as he saves the project, dropping it into your hard drive, “I heard from Felix that you guys have it.”

“I was just about to ask you,” You crossed your legs on the chair, facing Jisung, “I’d want you to come to the showcase.”

Jisung pauses, as light pink dusted his cheeks, “M-me?”

“Who else?” You smiled, looking around, “Unless there’s another Jisung that I don’t know about...”

“H-hey don’t scare me like that,” Jisung stutters, bringing his attention back to the desktop, “It’s not funny.”

“I’m kidding, friend.” You joked, taking a sip of the slightly diluted iced coffee.

“Friend?” Jisung turned his head, tilting to one side, hurt ever so slightly cast in his eyes.

You couldn’t read that expression, confused, tilting your head like his, “What about it?”

“Nothing.” Jisung shook his head, removing the hard drive, handing it to you.

Little did you know, hidden inside Jisung’s backpack was a mini bouquet of your favourite dried flowers.

[2145]

As the end credits rolled around, you sensed an invisible weight being lifted off your shoulders, many sleepless nights worth of edits was indeed, worth it. Not to mention that Jisung probably pulled those all-nighters with you too, alongside completing his own work or even music for your project.

You were complimented with many praises from your classmates, some grumbling that they wouldn’t get their 4.0 thanks to you, also from the other tutors in the lecture theatre. You were so glad that your efforts paid off, and you would score a decent grade in at least one of the modules, for the first time in a while.

Your eyes followed Jisung despite being overwhelmed with people after the showcase, the boy patiently waiting at the foot of the podium for you. He changed out of his usual t-shirt you saw him this morning, to a ralph lauren plain sky blue dress shirt and dark blue calvin klein jeans. You knew Jisung owned a few dress shirts and saw him in them multiple times, but you knew exactly what it was that made him look extra handsome this time around.

It wasn’t the brand, but rather your crush on him that painted him in a very different light as compared to the past.

And you were prepared to tell him.

“I think you’re ready for Hollywood,” Jisung joked as he made shy strides towards you, hands snugly tucked in his pockets, “that video was really well made.”

‘Thank you, J.One,” You teased back, him grimacing at your joke, “your music made the video a whole lot better. I really do owe you one, Jisung.”

“Well, then before we go for fried dumplings,” Jisung reached into his backpack, handing you a small bouquet of your favourite dried flowers, “Here’s for my roommate, future filmmaker extraordinaire.”

You gasped, taking the bouquet in your hands, “Jisung! You really shouldn’t have. Thank you so much.”

“It was meant to be for something else,” Jisung eyed the bouquet warily, “but since you wanted to stay friends, it's a congratulation gift now.”

“What? Stay friends?” You stared at your roommate in confusion.

“I like you, y/n.” Jisung confessed, “I wanted to confess with that bouquet of flowers back in the editing studio but you called me a friend so I thought... you wanted to stay friends and nothing more.”

Jisung smiles sadly to himself, then looking back at you, “I just thought I would make myself clear before... you potentially hate me. I’ll respect your decision! If you don’t like me back... I’m fine with it. As long as you are happy--”

You interrupted Jisung by gently placing your lips on his, your hands ever so slightly crumpling the dress shirt he actually bothered to wash this morning. You pulled away, only to be pulled back by Jisung, lips now moving to deepen the kiss he waited for so long. You nearly melted in his arms, head dizzy with euphoria as your lips locked with his every fleeting moment. The boy gently pulled away, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “Does this mean you like me too?”

You planted a kiss on Jisung’s slightly swollen lips again, smiling to your new boyfriend, “Yes, I like you too, Jisung.”

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #han jisung #jisung #han #han scenarios #han imagines #jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #jisung fluff #kpop fluff

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years ago

Text

What grocery store do you shop at the most? My family goes grocery shopping at Walmart.

Which stove top burner do you use the most? The one closest to me on the left side.

Do you use a dishwasher or wash dishes by hand? We rinse them off and put them through the dishwasher.

What color is your favorite laundry basket? My hamper is red.

What color was your first car? I’ve never had a car.

What was your first job? Never had job, either.

What is the best job you’ve had?

What is the best pharmacy near you? I’ve always just used CVS and I haven’t had any problems.

Do you use public transportation? Not anymore, but when I was in college I used to have to take the bus sometimes.

Which bank do you use? I’m not sharing that.

Do you have a credit card? A few.

What is your favorite fast food restaurant? I don’t have one anymore and this is coming from a former fast food junkie. I don’t know, man. I just don’t enjoy it anymore like I used to. I don’t even go anymore. The only takeout I get now is Wingstop.

What do you want to name your kids? No kids for me.

How many tattoos do you have? Zero.

What year did you graduate high school? 2008.

What chore do you hate the most? I don’t particularly enjoy any chore.

What is your favorite shampoo to use? I just use a salon style one for red dyed hair.

How do you remove stains from clothes? Stain remover and a washing machine. <<<< Yep.

Do you carry pepper spray? No.

What highway do you drive on the most? I don’t drive, but as far as the one I’ve been on the most as a passenger I’m not sharing that. Do you like driving?

What is your favorite radio station? It’s been a few years since I’ve listened to the radio.

What do you use for an alarm clock (phone, stereo, actual clock, etc.) My phone.

Which department store do you shop at the most? Walmart. Which dollar store is your favorite? I don’t have a favorite, I rarely shop there.

Do you shop at the dollar store often? Nope.

What is your favorite gas station? I don’t have one.

Do you burn candles often? I never do.

How do you relax? The only time I can ever really relax is when I’m at the beach. We go to this nice little area that’s pretty secluded and it’s just very relaxing and peaceful. I’m really sad I can’t go at all this year.

What’s your favorite app on your phone? YouTube, Kindle, Spotify, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook.

What do you cook the most? The only thing I cook is ramen.

When was the last time you relaxed in a hot bath? I haven’t taken a bath since I was a kid. I just take showers.

Do you take showers or baths normally? ^^^^ What is your favorite candle scent? Autumnal ones are the best.

How much does it cost for you to laundry (if you use a slot machine)? We have a washer and dryer.

Do you make your bed every day? It stays made because I don’t sleep under the blankets. I sleep on top of them and just use a throw blanket.

Do you have any pets? Yep, a doggo named Princess Leia.

Do you have kids? Noooo.

Are you married? Noooo.

Do you save receipts? Sometimes. I used to be really bad about that and hoard every receipt.

Do you use re-usable bags at the grocery store? Well, we did before the quarantine/lockdown, but when that began we weren’t allowed to use them anymore.

What color is your carpet? Tan.

Have you ever burnt yourself with the glue gun? Nah.

Do you write checks? Nope.

Ever had a garage sale? Nope.

What have been some of your best garage sale finds? I don’t go to garage sales.

What time do you wake up in the morning? Err, more like late afternoon--230/3PM.

Are you a morning person? Nope.

Are you more of a morning person now than you used to be? Well, no, clearly not.

Do you like to read? I love to read.

What was the first election you voted in? The primaries back in 2008.

Who is on speed dial in your phone? I don’t use speed dial. Is that even a thing anymore?

Do you play games on your phone? Sometimes. It’s been awhile, though. What phone do you have? iPhone XR.

What was your first phone? = A basic Motorola flip phone.

What kind of computer do you have? MacBook Air.

Wall calendar or desk calendar? Wall.

If you read a daily devotional, which one are you using currently? I sometimes read the ones on proverbs31.org

What is your favorite book? I couldn’t possibly choose just one favorite.

What is the strangest food you’ve had? I’m not adventurous with foods, I eat the same few simple and basic things. What do you do when the power goes out? The last time it happened was like the first week of summer last year. It lasted like 3 hours and it was awful cause it was SO hot. My mom took me for a drive so we could use the AC cause I was dying.

Does your home have a basement? Nope.

How often do you clean? Admittedly, I have done much cleaning in awhile.

How often do you go grocery shopping? We do our big grocery shopping twice a month.

Ever bought a lottery ticket? Yes.

Do you gamble? I’ve only played a few slot machines.

What does your purse look like? I use a gray mini Adidas backpack.

Do you ever sleep on the floor? No. That would be incredibly uncomfortable.

Which room do you stay in the most? Mine.

What is your bedtime? I’ve been going to bed at like 6/630AM. Sometimes 7. :/

Ever worked two jobs or more at once? Nope.

Do you live in an apartment, condo, house, or dorm? House.

What does your dream house look like? I’ve described it a few times lately.

Describe your dream wedding. No wedding at all.

How often do you go on vacation? We generally try to go at least once a year. Thankfully, I was able to have one before the madness started this year.

What is your favorite type of weather? Fall and winter.

What do you do when you have a sore throat? It’s not a rare occurrence for me, unfortunately. I have dry mouth issues and whatnot. There’s nothing I can really do except deal with it and drink water. I should be drinking a lot more, though.

How often do you go see a doctor? I was going twice a month to two different doctors, but since all this stuff started I haven’t seen one of them since early March and the other I saw in person for the first time since February a few days ago. I was able to do that one over the phone for March and April. I’ll be able to do it over the phone again for June and July, as well.

Do you have acid reflux? Ugh, yes.

Do you snore? I’ve been told I have, but I think it’s just something I do sometimes.

Are you on birth control? No sex is the best birth control, ha.

What kind of toothpaste do you use? Sensodyne.

Do you wear glasses or contacts? Glasses.

How often do you wear make-up? I don’t anymore. I haven’t worn any for almost 3 years now.

Do you put on make-up in the bathroom or the bedroom? I did it in my room.

Do you have a swimming pool? Nope.

What is the first site you go to when you turn on your computer? I always keep a window with the same few tabs open. I leave it on the Tumblr or Pinterest tab, so either one of those is the first one I see when I first go on for the day.

Which email service do you use? Yahoo.

How often do you check your email? At least once a day, but sometimes more. I just do it to clear the notification mostly and keep my inbox clean, but sometimes I am waiting for something.

How old were you when you got your first phone? 15 or 16.

What was your favorite boy band back in the 90’s? Backstreet Boys and NSYNC.

Did you own a Britney Spears album? Yeah, I had her first one.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 5 years ago

Text

Safe haven 2/?

Part 1

AO3

The safe house was in a little town in Scotland. Called Huna. Huna Wick, Violet read when she passed the sign. That was either the most brilliant, or the dumbest idea John had ever had. A safe house about a half hour far from the actual town called Wick.

Rolling her eyes she made her way past the few houses and drove down the road to the cliff. She hadn’t seen any other house in 10 minutes when she saw a little house in the far end of the road on a cliff.

The dog, she really had to give him a name, jumped excitedly when the car stopped.

She exited the car and inhaled the fresh air.

John had told her about this little cottage he had as a safe house. He had never used it. She was the only one he ever told about it.

Violet opened the door of the car to let the dog out.

He ran past by her down to the little cottage that sat on the end of the road, overlooking the ocean. Peaceful. Was her first thought. She didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t even know if she was really supposed to be here. It was his after all. But he had given her the key. The last 6 weeks were absolute hell.

3 hours after she had found John on the street she sat in her office. Staring blankly at her computer screen. The dog lay to her feet, he hadn’t left her side ever since they came to her office.

She jumped when her office phone started ringing. Cursing to herself she picked it up.

“Violet my dear. How are you today?” The voice of Winston came to her ears. Overcoming the urge to strangle him through the phone, Violet took the phone between her shoulder and her ear and leant down to pet the dog.

“Tired Winston. What the fuck went on in your hotel last night? I couldn’t leave the office and had to sleep on the couch.” She was truly interested in what had happened.

“Let’s just say, we redecorated a little.” He chuckled.

“I don’t think blood on the walls will be something everyone appreciates.” Violet muttered, scratching the dog behind it’s ears. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” She continued.

“Always so forward. But I don’t want to keep you up from your work. When have you last talked to John Wick, dear?” Winston finally asked.

“Really talked? On his wedding day.” She lied.

“You haven’t seen him ever since. I thought you two were friends.”

“You asked when I had last talked to him, Winston. I’ve seen him a couple of weeks ago, when he came back to your hotel. Is there a reason you’re so interested in John?” Violet pressed. The dog long forgotten, she wandered to the same spot on the window front of her office, were she had seen Winston shoot John only a couple hours ago.

“I have some business with him.”

“Since when does the hotel manager need an ex assassin to take care of business? I thought he retired.”

“Oh well you would be surprised.” Winston laughed. Violet rolled her eyes.

“Let’s talk about this business over dinner next week.” Winston offered.

She would rather drink acid than have dinner with him. But she also wanted to know what was going on. And she didn’t know when, or if, she would see John ever to get some answers.

“Sure. I’ll be there as always.” Violet said after a while.

“Great. Have a nice day. And let me know if you hear something about Mr. Wick.”

“Will do, Winston.” Violet said and ended the call.

What a mess this all was.

Suddenly having a dog, a dog which was so John Wick’s dog, didn’t go unnoticed at all. Not that she had counted on that. It probably didn’t help that the first person she saw on her way back home on that day was Charon.

“Miss Turner.” She spun around, hearing Charon’s voice. She just got out of the office and was about to enter a cab.

“Charon.” Violet smiled at him.

“I never took you for a dog person.” He had eyed the grey dog and recognized him straight away. She could see it in his eyes.

“Well I’m not one to let a helpless animal die on the streets. He doesn’t have a name tag, I’m about to take him to the shelter.” She had lied.

“Of course. Have a nice evening, Miss Turner.”

“You too, Charon.”

She cursed to herself the whole ride home. It wouldn’t be long before people would become suspicious. There always had been talk about her and John back in the day. He wasn’t the most sociable person. John had never really talked to anyone except her and Winston. And Marcus. Being the one person everybody turned to when they had the most impossible tasks to take care of, made him a target. That’s how he had explained it. Every person he would get close to, potentially could become a target.

“But we are friends.” Violet had said on that evening 9 years ago, sipping on her wine in the Continental restaurant. He had just come back from a job in Greece and called her to have dinner. John had looked at her. His eyes tired and defeated. Shaking his head. Sighing.

“No. No we are not friends, Violet. And we never can be.”

“Aren’t you lonely?”

“I’m good at being alone. Always have been.”

“There’s a difference though. Between being alone and being lonely. Like who do you talk to about random stuff?”

“Random stuff?” He had asked, confused.

“Yes like. What kind of ice cream is better. Ben & Jerry’s or Häagen Dasz?”

He had laughed at that. She had smiled. After that they had continued their dessert in silence.

“I have you to talk about random stuff.” John said, when he had helped her into her coat, after dinner.

“But we aren’t friends.” She had said.

“No we are not.” He had said and squeezed her hand, before leaving her to go to his room.

She had decided to continue working like nothing happened, because to everyone else nothing had happened. She left the dog at home when she got to work. She had Dinner with Winston. Without killing him. And without getting any information at all about anything that had happened. But she felt watched. Like someone was watching her every move.

She hadn’t heard anything from John.

Until 4 weeks after the incident she received a random package in the office.

Opening the package she found a key, a passport and a letter.

The passport had her picture in it. Everything else was different though. The name she read was Amelia Miller. She opened the letter and started reading.

You wanted out of there before me. But you never knew how. So here is how. Take this and go somewhere safe. They know that you know. Winston knows. You’re not safe in New York. Leave and be happy for once.

Your friend

“But we aren’t friends.” She had smiled sadly.

Her journey to Scotland took a whole week. She couldn’t just book a flight and disappear. If Winston really knew, he would have every eyes and ears available on her. So she took a plane form JFK to London Heathrow and there rented car to drive all the way up to Iverness, where she bought an old Range Rover and drove the rest of the way to the cottage. All under her new name.

She didn’t really know where to go first. There were a couple of places she always wanted to visit. Vienna. Jerusalem. Stockholm. But none of those seemed right to her until she remembered the conversation she had with John. About his safe house. It was on the day she had helped him with the contracts for his new house, when he had mentioned having a safe house in Scotland no one knew about.

“We need to fill this out and we should be good to go.” Violet had handed him the papers and John had started filling them out right away. They had met at Violets to go through the papers.

“How honest do I have to be with these?” John had asked after a while.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you didn’t just gave the owners a bag of money and leave them be, but you wanted to do this the right way, so I’d say, as honestly as possible.” Violet had chuckled.

“So this asks if I have any other properties.”

“Well. Do you have any?”

“Not to the knowledge of anyone.”

“Then cross no and be done with it.”

Violet had been writing on a contract and didn’t notice John looking at her right away. Looking at her working on something had always been calming for him. The concentrated look on her face. Her eyebrows wrinkled. The pencil behind her ear. He wanted her to be safe. Even when he wasn’t there to make sure of it.

“Violet. I do have a house in Scotland.”

She looked up from her macbook.

“Nobody knows about it. It’s in case something happens and I have to disappear.”

“Okay. Yeah you shouldn’t write that down in the papers then.” She had advised smirking.

“If you ever feel you have to escape I want you to go there.”

“Why would I need to escape?”

“You never know. Just promise me you remember that there is a place in the north of Scotland were you could escape.”

“Okay. Where exactly is it?”

He had smirked at that and wrote the address down for her.

She was standing with that little piece of paper in her hands in front of the cottage. Violet wondered when John purchased this land and if he had personally ever been here. She had helped sort out a couple of safe houses through the years and usually the person purchasing a safe house never had to be there. Except if something happens.

“Dog!” She shouted down the Hill. He came running back to her and run right past her into the house, after she opened the door with the key John had sent her in the package.

Violet didn’t really know what to expect from the cottage. It looked very tiny. She walked through the little hallway to come into a big bright room. The complete side facing the ocean was made of windows. A big sofa sat in front of it. She would love to sit there the whole day, looking out.

The whole room reminded her of John’s old house back in New York. She hadn’t expected the little old cottage being that modern on the inside. There was a grey kitchen on the opposite wall with the fitting counter. Right next to it a hardwood dining table with 6 chairs. Countless books where storraged in a huge shelf which ran on the left side of the windows. It had to be hundreds. Opposite of this wall was a huge Fireplace with 2 cosy looking armchairs in front of it. It was beautiful.

Dog, the dog (she really really needs to find a name for that dog) sat happily in his dog bed. Narrowing her eyes she looked through the room. For a house nobody had ever lived in it was surprisingly clean. No dust. No Spider webs. The dog bed had to be new. John never had a dog until a couple weeks ago.

Violet went to the fridge and opened it to find it fully stocked. The freezer too.

Head shaking she made her way up the stairs. The staircase ended in a huge white room. The bedroom. There was no door. The stairway ended in the bedroom. The bed was standing across the big window to overlook the ocean, similar to the living room. A huge TV hand on the wall, countless DVD’s laying underneath it.

There was only one door. That had to be the bathroom and the closet. Opening the door she saw empty shelfs and clothing rails to her right side. On the left there were a couple of clothes. Johns. She thought. He had always been prepared for everything. Sighing she went further down to end up in the bathroom. A big walk in shower to her left, a huge bathtub to her right. Everything in a bright grey.

If you knew John you could see him inside every detail of this house.

Why would he put so much effort in a safe house, when he wasn’t planning on ever living here?

She had seen safe houses. They usually only had what it need to survive a couple of weeks. They sure as hell hadn’t a walk in closet and a bathtub were at least 4 people could fit in.

Maybe he had planned to come here before he met Helen.

Violet really hoped she could ask him all the questions she had one day.

#john wick #john wick ff #fanfiction #ff #keanu reeves

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michael-langdon-appreciation · 6 years ago

Text

Sabotage

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!Reader

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Gallant has spread a nasty rumour about you during his interview with Michael to try and jeopardise your place at the Sanctuary. Now Michael has summoned you to his office to find out more.

Warning: Mild SMUT (I guess), a little fluffy at times.

A/N - I tried to keep Michael as to character as possible. My first ever oneshot so I’d love some feedback :D)

(Gif from fycodyfern)

When I enter our bedroom Michael’s typing away at his macbook, the screen’s brightness illuminating the crease in his forehead from concentrating. The fire hums in the corner of his room, but there’s a frostiness in the air I didn’t expect. I close the door with more emphasis than I normally would, but Michael continues to ignore me.

The silent treatment, really?

I just wait for him to call me over, he is the one in charge after all, but Michael continues to show no inclination that he’s aware I ever entered his room. Finally my nerves get the better of me and I deposit myself in the seat before him.

Still nothing. Michael’s eyes flick all over the screen and I want to know who he is communicating with that makes him think he can get away with being rude to me.

The cooperative? Or someone else?

I’m trying to be patient, knowing he doesn’t like to be disturbed when focused. We have that in common, but to not acknowledge me? My ankle has been tapping away against the bottom of the desk, but Michael works through it, the only sign of his growing irritation being the crease that’s getting bigger and bigger as I taunt him into looking at me.

His restraint would be admirable, if it wasn’t fuelled by his innate pettiness. That was Michael all over, trying to prove a point just because he could or doing anything he can think of to win an argument. I’ve never seen him draw something out for so long before though. A sliver of genuine concern runs up the back of my spine.

There’s something very wrong here.

“Clearly you want me here considering you were the one to summon me, Michael.”

His eyes flick up to me and then back down to the keyboard. I try to reign my temper in and sit back in my chair waiting once more for him. If he wants to act like a child the I’ll take the high road. I let my mind wander away to dinner, the hunger rising back viciously till my desire to find those apples Venable’s trying to keep hidden starts overtake sitting here waiting for the inevitable argument that must be brewing.

How decadent it would be to take one, giant bite.

“Will you shut up your thoughts?”

Michael speaks through clenched teeth, his fingers halting on the keys and I look up, catching him watching me. He returns to his laptop at once, as if I didn’t catch him blatantly staring at me.

He’s hitting below the belt to get a rise out of me and as usual, it works. “If you don’t want to hear my thoughts then don’t go poking in my head.” I fire back, “Or actually share some of the food haul you brought with you because you must be eating something.”

My attempt to get him to engage fails though, he ignores me typing away again and I’ve had enough. I reach over and still his hand against the keys, “Talk to me.” I urge, “What’s happened? Was it the interviews?”

He looks back at me, eyes vulnerable and I’m seriously beginning to worry now. Michael shakes some of his long hair out of his eyes and pulls his hand into his lap, dropping eye contact. “If you aren’t happy with me you should have made that clear Y/N.”

That is not what I expected at all, “What?” I blurt, “What gave you that impression?”

Michael closes the macbook’s lid, the light disappearing from his face and plunging the room further into darkness. “I don’t think I ask for much in this relationship.” He begins, “I made it crystal clear what you were getting yourself into the first time I took you, what would be involved and what would be expected of you from then on. You agreed to everything. If you are having second thoughts you should have come straight to me.”

In my mind it’s an odd way to phrase things, he must be guilt tripping me to try and get me to tell him his methods are fine, to tell him he has my blessing.

“Who else am I going to speak to?” I demand, “You wiped Mead’s memory and you were the one who said Venable has to remain clueless-”

“You speak to me and only to me about issues involving us.” Michael repeats, “Any doubts, any concerns involving my…performance should come to me.”

“I just don’t think it’s right to murder them.” I insist, “I know you can execute it, I saw you slaughter the witches. But let them take their survival into their own hands like the others. Let it be the damn Hunger Games and see what they do. Murdering them based on your small minded opinion isn’t right. They’re most likely going to die once we’re gone so why make it so gruesome and sudden?”

Michael blinks, “I am not referring to the apples, Y/N.” A scowl crawls onto his face, as if he’s smelled something vile. “But I don’t appreciate your comments. I am the one leading this operation and I will take to the Sanctuary who I see fit and leave whoever I want to die.”

I realise my mistake, but you don’t just roll over when it comes to the Antichrist. I stand up and make my way round Michael’s desk, “What is going on?” I ask, perching on the end as close as he’ll let me, “We were fine this morning.”

I dare to reach out, to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek as I go. Michael catches my arm in his grip, “Are you dissatisfied with me, Y/N? Do I bore you so completely here that you seek out the others companionship to make up for what I’m lacking?”

“Where is this coming from?” I ask, inching closer to him. Michael’s grip on my arm is tight, his fingers white against my skin. Like always his eyes show how exposed he feels.

It’s always been hard for Michael to express his true emotions, but he’s getting better at it.

“I love you.” I say, my voice as firm and strong as it can be. “That hasn’t stopped just because I’m hungry, or a little bored from time to time.”

Michael thinks over my declaration, “I love you too.” He offers, but it sounds transactional. An instinctual reply from years of saying those words to each other.

I speak carefully, I don’t want to detonate his fuse if I can help it. “I’m sorry if I haven’t shown it, or did something to make you think otherwise.”

He lets go of my arm, “I continued my interview with Gallant today.” He tells me, leaning back in his chair to get a better view of me. “It was revealing.”

I know what that means, “What did he try and say?” I demand, already planning to hunt the bastard down. Michael doesn’t answer me, he gets up and heads towards our bed. I follow him, tugging at his shoulder till he turns round. “Michael, what did he tell you?”

It’s clear Michael doesn’t want to tell me, because the moment he does he’s going to show just how much it’s got to him and the Antichrist can’t show weakness. “He implied that you’ve been spending so much time with the occupants of this Outpost because you aren’t satisfied with me.” He mumbles.

If it was anyone else I’m sure they would be able to see how flimsy that sounds. No our sex life hasn’t been as stirring since we got to Outpost 3, but it’s by no means non-existent or lacking. But seeing how even now Michael withholding himself from me, it’s apparent that Gallant has managed to zero right in on Michael’s insecurities, his need to know he’s important to someone. That he’s valued beyond his magic or connection to his father.

Michael peeks into my eyes and on seeing my outrage he relaxes a little, “I assume that isn’t true?”

“I’m going to shove an apple down his throat myself.” I spit, wrapping my arms around Michael’s middle. My head rests against his chest and I’m relived when his hands fall on my back. “Like I said, I’m a little bored when you are conducting your interviews, but I know it’s part of your job here.” I press a kiss into his jugular, the spot he once told me makes him tingle. “I don’t regret anything, Michael and you’re certainly not lacking or less than you were before. I just don’t always agree with your ‘kill it before it becomes a problem’ approach.”

“I know,” He says. “I do listen to your opinions, Y/N.” I feel him dip down onto the bed, pulling me with him and I keep my arms round his neck as I straddle his lap. Michael’s hands support my bum as we just look at each other, “Are you really going to kill him?” He murmurs, eyes darkening at the thought.

“Sounds like he’s dying anyway.”

“He was.” Michael confirms, “I shouldn’t have doubted you. I let him get to me.”

“It’s fine.” I rake my fingers through his hair and Michael hums low in his throat, “Perhaps you should reconsider.” I suggest and Michael eyes me with surprise waiting to hear my idea. “If he’s willing to make up rumours out of desperate lust for you, maybe he’s perfect for the Sanctuary after all?”

“We don’t need scum like Gallant in our new world.” Michael says, “It may be a world of sin, but I still get to choose who gets the chance to start anew. I will not start by being disrespected.”

I love it when his confidence blooms, his voice low and gravelly. I push him back on our bed, Michael’s hair splaying out behind him. He looks positively angelic as I run my hands up his chest, “What did you say when he told you this?” I ask.

“Nothing.” Michael replies, not doing anything to stop my actions as my hands reach his top button and start unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to let him rejoice thinking your position at the Sanctuary is in jeopardy.”

“How cunning of you, Mr Langdon.” I tease, easing the buttons open and revealing more of his skin. “You wouldn’t have acted so rashly would you?”

Michael leans up onto his forearms, “Why do you think I called you here?” He asks, “I needed to hear the truth from your own lips.”

“You can have more than my truth.” I pledge, surging down to kiss him. I feel Michael grin through the kiss, pulling me down and rolling over to take charge. My fingers work the buttons of his trousers while he fumbles to unlace my dress.

“Stupid purple contraption.” He breathes and I try my best to help him, heaving up the skirts when there’s a knock at Michael’s door.

“Mr Langdon,” We both freeze at Mallory’s voice. I clamber off his bed, trying to be discreet as Michael heaves himself off me. “I’m here for my interview?”

“I didn’t send for her.” Michael mutters, voice low so Mallory won’t hear us. I send him an apologetic look, Mallory’s timing was awful.

Her voice is mousy as it travels through the door, “Should I come in?”

“No.” Michael’s voice is full of authority as he helps me pull the sleeve of my dress up and fixes my hair for me. He looks like a child who was told there are no more sweets left as I kiss his cheek and head for the door. I open it and the Grey jumps back, eyes darting from me to Michael. It’s then I realise Michael’s shirt is still unbuttoned, giving Mallory a good eyeful of his chest along with insight into what we’ve been up to.

Mallory’s cheeks have gone scarlet and I know she’s thinking along the same lines as me. I say nothing to her, anything I say will make it all the more awkward. I make do with silence and slip past her just as Michael appears at the door, “Thank you for your cooperation, Y/N.” His voice smooth as he leans against the doorframe.

My mouth falls open at his audacity. You’d have to be dense not to pick apart his meaning. Mallory could go running to Venable at any time, but Michael seems to have already forgotten about her, as if Mallory has melted into thin air. She’s meek and doesn’t dare speak, stood lamely in-between us as Michael buttons up his shirt and closes the bedroom door behind him, “We’ll have our interview in the library, Mallory. Come along.”

I let them pass, Mallory practically running for the stairs to get away from the situation. Michael’s as calm as ever and the look he sends me promises that he’ll make sure she doesn’t tell a soul. He kisses my cheek brazenly on his way, “I suggest you find Mr Gallant, darling.”

I smile at the idea and wait till he’s gone, then I make my way towards the other bedrooms. There’s a certain hairdresser I need to hunt down.

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dreamgloe · 6 years ago

Note

22 with seokjinie please? 💗💗

prompt: long distance / 22 (this prompt list here)

words: 2.68K

warnings: fluff, tears, light implied sexual content

notes: lord i literally wrote most of this today and i’m s o f t for one kim seokjin who’s idea of a romantic date is eating his weight in black pork with his girlfriend and being cheesy af. also i tried to edit so excuse any slipped mistakes.

tags: @sjtual (hope you love bebe xoxo)

“I’m so, so sorry, babe,” you heard your boyfriend say through your earbuds. His image on screen was a little grainy with your horrible wi-fi connection and old MacBook Pro.

“It’s fine, Seokjin. You don’t have to keep apologizing. I get it,” you said smiling, trying your best to assure your boyfriend that you are indeed ‘fine.’ It wasn’t his fault schedule changed at the last minute. Of course, you were still sad that you couldn’t spend one of the designated days of the year to be a complete, hopelessly romantic idiot with the man that you loved.

“But seriously, honey, I’m sorry we have to spend Valentine’s Day over skype. We were supposed to head down to Jeju tomorrow… All that black pork…uneaten,” he said, looking away and clutching his heart. You couldn’t help but laugh with your whole body. He always knew how to make you smile.

“Another time,” you said despite the fact that you were really looking forward to spending some time alone with Seokjin. The last thing wanted was for him to feel sad.

“You have the food, right?” he asked. Yes, you had the food….when you texted him that it had arrived. He ordered from your favorite restaurant down the street and had it delivered. You picked up the takeout bag from the ground and put it on the table in front of you so that Seokjin could see.

He picked up his bag, the emblem being that of your absolute favorite restaurant in Seoul, one that you’d often go to together. It made you smile and you really felt that even though the two of you were separated, that the two of you were close. You had made the trip up to Seoul a few weeks ago when he had a small break in his schedule but the two of you spent most of the time either at the dorm or in his apartment. It wasn’t as though he spent a lot of time in the villa he purchased for himself when you weren’t around but he claimed it was nice to have for “alone time.” It was sparsely decorated but homey and great for when you wanted peace and quiet with Seokjin. However, you had always been more than welcome at the dorm, the kids always vying for your attention.

“Noona, did you see that kill?” Jungkook would shout over his shoulder while playing Overwatch. Taehyung and him then argue about who was actually ahead.

You could tell from the background that Jin had made his way over to his own place for privacy because in the dorms he still shared a room with Yoongi.

“It’s like we eating together,” he said earnestly, starting to unbag everything. He had obviously had been hankering for pork, the container you pulled out of your bag…well, you’d have leftovers for a few days. “This is so much pork, Seokjin,” you said, “How am I supposed to eat all of it?”

He looked mildly offended. “No lady of mine backs down from pork. She takes the challenge head on and wins,” he said, with a look of seriousness that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at. He was always cooking for you and making sure that you were eating enough. It was never usually a problem because you loved to eat. You’d sometimes tease him, saying “Yes, halmeoni, I’ll eat more.” He’d huff a little to continue the joke but you were certain there was a little pride in there too.

“So how is everyone?” you ask, “Staying out of trouble?” You opened the container, grabbed your metal chopsticks and quickly dipped the pork into the soy bean paste before shoving a whole piece into your mouth. You groaned a little. “So good. How’s yours?”

Seokjin was in the middle of digging in as well and his smile beamed brightly the moment he took a bite out of his. “Everyone’s fine but wish you were here to eat it with me,” he said, with his mouthful, “Our favorite.” The two of you fell into your comfortable conversation of his and your work. He asked you about your job at the TV station and you asked him about any down time he had on tour and if he got to have any good food. One of your favorite conversation topics just happened to be food.

“Cheers,” he shouted, holding up his wine class to the screen. You reached over to grab yours to the same. It wouldn’t be dinner with Seokjin without something to drink.

One of the best things about your relationship, you thought, was your ability to talk about practically nothing but still have a good time. The two of you loved to roam around and see sights, even close to home, in addition to eating your way through cities. It was only a matter of time before you felt the food baby form. Leaning back in your chair, you put your hands on your full stomach and sighed heavily.

“Me too,” your boyfriend responded, already knowing without you haven’t to say anything verbally. “Ugh, I wish you were here. I wish I was there,” he said, pouting. Your heart melted at the sight because even through skype, your boyfriend had an irresistible pout.

“I promise I’ll make plans to come up soon,” you say earnestly, “Whenever you want, whenever I can.” Part of you wants to cry. While you were hellbent on acting like everything was fine, you really missed him sometimes. Moving away to Busan had been a hard choice but Seokjin encouraged you, knowing that it would be good for your career. You didn’t plan on staying for too long, using Busan as a way to bolster your goal to be a full-fledged on-air producer.

You felt yourself moving your face even closer to the camera in your laptop, as if that would bring you closer to him. He did the same, leaning in closer to the camera, kissing the air at you and causing you to giggle.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he said, waving it off, “We’ll make your next visit work out no matter what,” he said, “Don’t stress.” He said this while waiting his arounds like he was stressed. You felt a few tears prickle at your eyes, hoping they wouldn’t show up on the poor visual connection of your skype.

“Sorry, you have to deal with my schedules all the time,” he said, pausing before chucking, “Don’t know how you put up with me…it’s just for my looks, isn’t it?” He said, the mock offense all over his face.

You laughed so hard that a few tears ended up falling. “Yeah, I’m only dating you for your looks, Worldwide Handsome,” you said, a hit of a scoff in your voice. He winked at you, his upturned lips opening to show his pearly smile. With the slightest gesture, he could make you feel like an idiot crushing school girl all over again.

Feeling your cheeks heat up a little, you shifted back to the topic at hand, “If I deal with your schedule, I get to put up with you,” you said, the biggest smile on your face and your voice starting to crack, “I consider myself very lucky.” The thought didn’t help the verge of your tears and finally, you had to do something about them. You tried to pull it off as stray eyelashes but your boyfriend knew better. As goofy as he was, he was incredible gentle and often claimed that for you…he was a complete mush.

“Babe,” he cooed through the laptop screen. You put your hand up to stop him, dropping it to cover your face. You hated him seeing you like this. Making him feel bad was the last thing you wanted to do. He couldn’t help his schedule and you never wanted to ask more of himself than he could give at the moment. But he was a wonderful boyfriend. He called, texted, and sent funny jokes, memes, and emojis enough for the two of you. You were just happy to have him in your life and that he loved you too. Maybe you really were a sappy, romantic, Happy Valentine’s Day, gushy-gushy, flowers-and-chocolates, stuffed animals as big as the room kind-of person.

Kim Seokjin could do that to a girl.

“I hate worrying you,” you said, “I’m fine. I just miss you and…I’m glad I have you in my life.” At this point, you stopped trying to stop the tears. They prickled gently at your cheeks and you smiled at him, trying to convey that you missed him but you were indeed fine.

“I love you, honey,” he said heavily, no ounce of of a joke on his lips or in his eyes. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Jin did what he does best.

He lightens the mood.

“Go get the box from the fridge,” he says, clapping his hands together, an eager smile on his face. He had you pick up a box from your favorite bakery. “Doing a lot of my own Valentine’s Day errands, aren’t I?” you asked, cocking your eyebrow.

“Just go and get the box,” he whined. You sigh with a smile and get up to do as he says. Taking the medium-sized box out, you brought it over to your set up. Placing it down in front so Seokjin could see, you give him a pointed look.

“You got the card I sent you?” you ask and he immediately holds in front of him so you can see…shaking it for the camera. You sent him a card a few days and told him to hold onto it since you knew you weren’t going to get to spend the day together. You promised one another not to get anything too crazy. A cake and a card with a romantic–and maybe slightly sexy–coupon book seemed reasonable.

“1, 2,…open!” your boyfriend exclaimed. On “open,” you opened the lid to what you assumed as a cake. It was and it was the cutest color of baby pink and you knew from the sprinkles that it was your favorite. In hot pink lettering, it said, “Wish I was there. Xoxo Jin.” The classic funfetti flavor from your favorite bakery in Seoul, which just opened a storefront in Busan, not far from your office. You had picked it up one the way home from work, per Seokjin’s request.

“Seokjinie…” you said, your eyes big and your tears threatening to fall again. He opened yours, pulling out the stapled booklet you had made him. Each page was handmade and customized. He held it up too, laughing with his whole face, like he always does.

“Don’t spend it all in one place, honey,” you said, chuckling and wiping away your tears.

“Too late,” he said with a mischievous wink. He flipped through and started to list a few. “Hmmm….one back massage….one spa or hot springs date…one ice cream date…one…..Y/N…you dirty girl….” You felt your face heat up. You never felt particularly risque or sexy by yourself but your boyfriend had a knack for bringing out all your facets.

“I will for sure be splurging,” he said, holding the book to his chest for a moment before gingerly placing it on the table next to him. It was easy just to stare at him through the screen but it was even easier to wish you were looking at the real thing, touching the real thing. You’d give anything to grab his cheeks and kiss him breathless. You also wish that you could talk into the wee hours. However, it was getting close to midnight and according to the schedule he sent you, he had an early start tomorrow.

“I don’t want to cut our date short, sweetheart, but you have a 7:00 AM call time tomorrow…” you said, a frown for sure on your face. His face mirrored yours and he nodded solemnly.

“I love youuuuu,” he whined, leaning the side of his face into his hand.

“I love you too,” you said, “Call me tomorrow when you are on break.” You blow him a kiss and he one ups you with a ‘flying kiss.’ You giggled because your boyfriend was cutest and he knew it.

“Will do,” he said with a small wave. You were the one to disconnect the call because you knew if you didn’t do it then, it would happen. Just sitting there, staring at him is almost enough for you.

The rest of the night was slow moving, but Jin texted you a few times before he fell asleep. And with an emoji depicting a sleeping RJ with hearts, you knew he was done for the night. You texted him a few emojis before crawling into your bed and eventually falling asleep.

It felt like only a few hours that you had been asleep when you heard a knock at your door. You looked at your phone, it was 8:00 AM. Wow, that was some food baby, you thought to yourself. You pulled on some sweatpants because it was cold out and made your way to the front door. You couldn’t see anything through your door camera so when you opened the door to see your boyfriend standing there, huffing and puffing, you were startled.

“Jin…” you trailed off. What? How was he here?

He quickly pulled the coupon book out of his pocket. “I’ve come here to collect,” he said, that big stupid grin on his face.

“First of all, what are you doing here? Second of all, calm down and come inside.” You opened the door to let him in and he didn’t even bother to take his shoes off.

“My…schedule was cancelled early this morning so I hopped…on to the first train to Busan,” he said, doing the best he could catch his breath. You saw two suitcases in his hands.

“What in the hell, Seokjin!!!” you said, not being able to believe him.

“Kiss first, please. Anger later,” he said, still out of breath and a little needy. You sigh with a ‘fine’ and grab him by the collar of his coat, planting a firm kiss to his lips. God, you missed that. You gave him a second, softer one for good measure. After pulling away, your face was back to its previous state.

“You should have called,” you said.

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” he said, “I felt so bad about before—” You stopped him in his words with another kiss. This time, you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting yourself sink into the feeling of being in front of him again.

“You are too sweet for my heart to handle,” you said against his mouth, not bearing the idea of pulling away from him.

“I would love to stay here and keep you here to myself all day but we have a ferry to catch in an hour….I never cancelled our plans.” he said. You groaned and he gingerly hands you one of the suitcases. “For you?” he said slash asked. You took the suitcase and dragged him by his hand to your room. On the way, you gave him a few orders. Five pairs of socks, five bras, five pairs of underwear. While you honestly didn’t trust him doing any of your packing, you’d rather him pack the skimpiest underwear you have instead of anything you’d actually be wearing out in public.

The two of you managed to get a bag packed and were out the door in less than 30 minutes.

“Jin?”

“What?” he said from in front of you.

“Don’t forget this,” you said, grabbing the coupon book he left on the small ledge by your door. You held it out to him and he took it but not before giving you another kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And with that, the two of you were off.

167 notes · View notes

thealphabetmurders · 6 years ago

Note

If you still want a prompt maybe human analogical coffee shop au?

Hello, @potater420, thank you so much for your prompt, I really appreciate you sending one in.

I want to preface this with everyday I want to fucking die, so incredibly badly. For multiple reasons, but one of them being I am bad at being a writer. Mainly, because of the fact that I cannot do anything short. Coffee Shop AU’s are a fairly simple prompt, so I thought to myself “easy, I have got this under control”. Nevertheless, I messed it up and now it is a 10k+ word monster. I am appalled with myself. So, once again, I am breaking up what was supposed to be a short one-shot into a multi chaptered fic. I hate myself.

Virgil is a barista who has been working at Humes’s Coffeehouse and also a regular smoker who has been doing so for 8 years. He meets Logan, an attractive (soon to be) Doctor of Addiction Psychiatry, who implores him to stop smoking in the most fanfiction way possible. Please enjoy.

(Read on AO3)

Everyone had their vices nowadays. Information and ideas are conveyed too fast and quickly for anyone to stay sane without a little outside help. There are healthier coping mechanisms than others, some more effective than not, and Virgil has tried pretty much them all, and he has more shit to deal with than most. So whilst many found solace in sex, Smirnoff, and santa marta, Virgil was still smoking in 2019.

It was not his fault. He began smoking when he was 14 when it was 2012 and still semi cool. If he could turn back time and refuse that first cigarette from someone who’s name escapes him now, he would, but for now he has to indulge to keep himself sane.

He used to smoke a lot more, at least a pack and a half a day. Now, on a bad day, he smokes 15 cigarettes; on a good day, he is down to 8; an average day has Virgil fall somewhere between 10 and 12.

It is never enjoyable to stand outside, by yourself, and just smoke, but without the nicotine, he get extremely jittery, anxious, and irritated. The weather doesn’t let up for anyone slowly destroying their body, but it does allow him to have extra breaks from work. Not that he particularly minds working at Hume’s Coffeehouse. The owner is good and his day manager, Roman, can be bothersome, but is good company. And it is just a short walk to his flat with his roommate Patton. Yet, there were still days when customers were just… So dumb. Such unbridled, unfiltered, idiocy.

So, that is why Virgil is standing out front for his second time that hour, slowly milking his Marlboro Lite outside the doors to the shop. Normally, he has to smoke out back on the patio, but there were guests outside and Roman did not want them to be disturbed. So, he told him to zip up his hoodie over his uniform (as to not give the company a ‘bad image’) and to go smoke out front.

It was a warm day in April, warmer than Virgil’s liking for having a hoodie on, the sun shining on his right arm, holding the lit cigarette in his left hand. Virgil kicked a few pieces of concrete across the wide, jagged sidewalk as he took a deep breath in the afternoon air. It was a few minutes past 4 o’clock, Virgil thankful that he gets to leave in less than an hour and go work on a graphic design project for school. The rush had died down exponentially, no one had come in the building for the past 10 minutes. A white car pulled up to the front spot in the parking lot, and Virgil internally groaned and took another drag of his cigarette, knowing that if someone was coming in, he would have to go back inside to help (seeing as it was just Virgil and Roman there).

The car door opened, and a young man who appeared to be a tad older than Virgil himself exited and slammed the door closed with his foot, carrying a laptop on his hip, a satchel under his arm, a binder in his left arm (that looked about 5 inches wide), whilst texting on his cellphone with his left hand. Virgil had seen all types of university kids come into their quaint little shop in his time working there, but he had never seen one try to multitask before even getting in the building. This one, in fact, seemed even less aware of his surroundings than most.

He walked a few paces across the pavement (never looking up from his phone) until he made his way to the sidewalk. The jagged, uneven sidewalk that one in every three people trip over because of a particularly nasty snag on the pavement.

“Dude, hey!” Virgil called out, trying to get the young man’s attention, “Watch out, you’re gonna-” The man looked at Virgil over his glasses, his eyes filled with hurry and confusion, until his black converse caught onto that crack in the sidewalk, and he came crashing down.

Virgil doesn’t think he has ever cringed more on behalf of another person before; but watching a cellphone with no case an a Macbook fly through the air as papers from the thickest binder any man has ever seen fluttered on top of the sidewalk, like sprinkles on the worst sundae ever, made for a spectacle like no other.

“Holy shit, man!” Virgil yelled, throwing his cigarette to the ground and quickly stomping it out before running to the aid of the other. “Are you okay?”

The other man groaned and picked himself back onto his knees. His once professional demeanor was quickly ruined by the his now disheveled black hair and the scrapes on his cheek.

“Oh, that is unfortunate,” The bespectacled spectacle looked down at the long sleeved sweater he was previously wearing, now sporting a hole in the elbow, which was bleed as well, clashing with the navy blue color he had on.

“You got fucked up,” Virgil said, tapping his fingers rapidly on his thigh. He moved down to his knees and began gathering the papers before they began to blow away, “Let me help you gather all this up. You seemed stressed enough,”

The man chuckled, running his hands through his hair, attempting to tame it once more, “I suppose I am more stressed than was I was previously aware of,” He leaned to his left to grab his phone and inspected it for a few moments, fiddling with the buttons before smirking, “No cracks,”

Virgil scoffed, “You are so jammy, my phone would be dust if that happened, and I have an Otterbox,”

He shrugged in response, “It is because I have an Android,”

The Macbook, however, did not fare so well. He opened it, adjusting his glasses, and cringed. Virgil moved behind him and couldn’t help but suck in a breath at seeing the laptop ink inside the machine spill and move around the cracked areas.

“Yea, that thing is toast,”

He just shook his head, “Nonsense. I just have to get the screen replaced. I have the 2 year warranty after all. I just will not be as productive when I start working,” He closed the laptop and put it in his messenger bag as Virgil ogled at him.

“After what just happened, you are still going to do work? I don’t think I would work for a week if that shit just happened to me. I would take that as a sign from the universe to take a break,”

The other just scoffed at that, pushing his glasses further on his face. “I have not taken a break in 24 years, one broken Macbook is not going to change that streak for me,” He smirked at the other, but then contorted his face up, wincing slightly and touched the wound still present on his cheek. “Do you think that you could help me and gather the rest of my papers? You do not have to of course, but since you are already helping. I would like to run to my car and get some medical supplies to treat my wounds.”

“Yes, yes, of course,”

The man smiled at him gratefully and slowly jogged back to his car. Virgil began gather the papers that were littered with chemistry and medical notations that he had no clue about. He picked up a page full or writing, presumably the center of an essay and looked at the corner which read ‘Arias 3’.

The man, Arias, came back with a small first aid bag slung over his shoulder just as Virgil finished putting all of the papers back in the binder. He picked up the binder and the satchel but did not hand them to Arias quite yet.

“I will bring these in for you, I do not want you tripping and falling again,” Virgil explained, and Arias groaned in feign vexation, a smile ghosting his lips, “Do you need any help with your wounds or anything?”

Arias shook his head as they made their way into the shop, Virgil holding the door for them, “I am in my second to last year of my medical school program, I believe I can handle a few cuts and bruises,” He set down his bag on a table and Virgil followed suit with the rest of his items, “But I sincerely appreciate the offer,”

Virgil bowed a little which made the other chuckle slightly. He looked behind him at the counter to see Roman standing there, staring at him with his hands on his hips. He shakes his head and taps his wrist and Virgil rolled his eyes, “I should get back to work, my manager is going to yell at me soon,”

Arias’ eyebrows raised slightly, “You work here? Did you just begin?”

“No, I have been here for about 7 months now,”

He frowned in response, “I frequent this location often, why have I never seen you,”

Virgil shrugged, “I normally leave at 5 o’clock, so what time-”

“Ah,” Arias pointed a finger at him, “That must be it. I come in here at around 6 o’clock most weekdays. I am familiar with some of the staff… Including Roman,” He gestured his hand a little past Virgil, who turned around to see his manager walking towards them, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hello again, Logan. I see you have become acquainted with Virgil now,” Roman grinned and placed an arm around Virgil shoulders, sighing a bit with relief to finally know the other man’s name.

Arias- Logan, must have had the same line of thinking, “We haven’t had a proper introduction, but, I suppose now his a good time.” He held out his hand to Virgil, “I am Logan Arias,”

Virgil took his hand, “Virgil Kosa,” The shook for a moment, Logan’s grip was professional and firm and then they parted.

Logan directed his attention to Roman, “Yes, Virgil here helped me after I tripped and fell over that dreaded sidewalk,”

Roman groaned, “That sidewalk is the bane of my existence. It is now evident that you lost that fight with the sidewalk,” Roman loosely pointed to the wounds on Logan’s face, which prompted him to pull out the bandages, rubbing alcohol, and cotton rounds from his bag.

“I also lost my Macbook in the process. It succumbed to the harsh concrete, but I have the warranty for it. Thankfully Virgil here was there to help me gather my items that were lost from my fall.” He smiled softly at the dark cladded man, “I am quite grateful,”

Roman gave a hearty laugh, “Well, it is good that I let you go on that smoking break then,”

Virgil smirked, “I guess today smoking is going to save lives,”

Logan’s face contorted, but before he could say anything the chime went off in the store and they saw two people standing at the counter. They bid their short farewell to Logan and made their way around the back of the counter.

They had a mini rush, an influx of students from their college town came in, ordering everything from black coffee to frivolous frappuccinos. Roman took orders while Virgil blended, shook, and spun the orders ‘round. He didn’t mind the work. It was mindless and it allowed his thoughts to drift a bit. He thought about Logan a bit more, his eyes trailing to the black haired man who was studying diligently, flipped through flashcards faster than Virgil could probably read them. Logan adjusted his glasses and Virgil smiled, taking in his sharp features and intelligent sense of dress. He noticed the blue bandage he had on his cheek and the medical bag was on the chair opposite to him. Virgil stared longer than he should have and Logan turned to him, catching his eye. He waved curtly at Virgil, grey eyes flashing with bemusement and he flushed in response, opting for a two fingered salute towards Logan, hoping he didn’t notice his blush.

The rush eventually died down and Virgil was wiping down the machines when Roman came up behind him, straws in hand. He grinned down at Virgil as he stocked the dry goods, the other attempting to ignore the chuckles and giggles coming from the taller man. Eventually, Virgil turned to raise an eyebrow at Roman, who was filling the creamer with a cheeky expression.

“Can I ask you a question, V?”

Virgil nodded, prompting the other to continue.

“So, you’re gay, cachai?” Roman purred, the rhyme flowing effortlessly off his tongue.

Virgil made a smacking noise with his mouth and shook his head, wiping down a counter area that was already clean, “You can’t ask me that, Roman,”

He rolled his eyes, “But I am correct, yes?”

Virgil groaned, “Yes, you are. Is this relevant?”

Roman danced in placed, spilling droplets of creamer on the ground, “I want to set you up with Logan,”

Virgil groaned, “No, I do not want to be set up with anyone. I barely know him,”

“You kept giving him eyes on the line, I was watching,”

“He is cute, yes, but that whole med student thing does not exactly appeal to me, seeing as I am the least healthy person I know,”

Roman decidedly ignored the last half of Virgil’s statement and made undignified, offended gasps at Virgil, “Cute? You have got to be kidding me, weon,” Roman ruffled his dark curls after discarding the gloves he was wearing, “He has that sexy librarian thing going on, how can you not be into that?”

If you’re so ‘into that’,” Virgil quoted “Then why don’t you date him?”

Roman protested, “You would think I would, but, I am still trying to take a bite of your adorably delicious roommate,”

“Ah, right,” Virgil remembered, “That’s a fun thing to hear from your boss,”

Roman groaned dramatically and Virgil just raised an eyebrow at him, “Just go ask him out, I promise you will not regret it,” He sung that last bit, and Virgil only rolled his eyes. He did a quick sweep of the line and made sure to diligently wipe down the blenders to avoid going out into the lobby to wipe down tables.

“I am leaving now, Roman,” Virgil’s eyes trailed to the front counter to where he heard Logan’s voice, seeing the med student talk to his manager, “I will see you tomorrow, most likely,”

“Ah, that you will, weon. I hope you get your laptop fixed, promptly,” Roman flailed his arms in standard dramatic fashion and Logan shook his head at him, exhausted.

“Virgil,” Logan called out to him, a ways away down the line. He beckoned Virgil forward and he rushed forward, standing next to Roman, the two were stark contrasts of each other, “I just wanted to let you know I left something for you written on one of the napkins on the table,” Logan motioned towards his table, and sure enough, Virgil spotted a napkin and a pen left there. Virgil said nothing in response and Logan took this as an opportunity to take his leave and bid the other two a quaint farewell.

As soon as Logan was out the door, Roman began squealing with delight as Virgil turned completely red to his roots.

“Looks like Logan had the hots for you too!” He followed Virgil out into the lobby where he went to Logan’s seat and snatched up the napkin with the pen. He looked at the napkin, expecting to find a phone number or an email.

“What is it?” Roman asked, and Virgil read the napkin over again, groaning.

Virgil frowned at Roman, and read the napkin out loud:

“Smoking is the leading cause of preventable disease. Frequent smokers die 10 years earlier than non-smokers.

-(soon to be) Dr. Logan Arias, Addiction Psychiatrist”

Roman snatched the napkin away from Virgil’s grasp to read it for himself, and began laughing.

“Great, not only do I have my coworkers and housemates bother me about smoking, now I have random attractive men doing so?”

Roman continued laughing, “Si, po. Si,”

“This is why you don’t fuck with med students,” Virgil spat, bitterly.

Roman said nothing but snickered a bit more before following Virgil to the back where he pulled out his phone.

“It is not an incorrect fact, I just checked,”

“I didn’t think it would be, weon,” Roman pinned the napkin to their corkboard in the back, “Soon-to-be Dr. Logan Arias said so,” He quoted and giggled a bit more as Virgil made a grab for the napkin, but Roman deflected it.

“You suck, Roman, I want you to know that,” Virgil looked at the clock, “I was supposed to get off 45 minutes ago, can I leave?”

Roman nodded as Virgil unplugged his phone charger and grabbed his lighter (he always carries two) and inspected the note once more, “It is odd that he didn’t leave a number or anything, just a fact,”

Roman shrugged, “Maybe he will give one to you once you make an effort to stop smoking,”

Virgil barked laughing, “Fat chance,” He made a beeline for the door.

“No one wants to kiss an ashtray!” Roman called.

Virgil pushed open the door with he back as he yelled back at Roman, “I am not asking anyone to!”

He put in his earbuds and began walking with purpose back to his apartment. The walk was an easy 10 minutes where he could just block out the world and succumb to the lyrics of his Walking/Daydream Playlist.

He reached his apartment and threw his keys in the bowl at the front door. He greeted Patton and made his way to his room and looked at the time. It was only 6 o’clock, so he decided he had time for a nap before dinner. Virgil closed his eyes and fell asleep to visions of steel grey and cigarette smoke.

I made Roman Chilean in this fic (gee… I wonder why), so some of the italicized words are Chilean slang that I will define here:

santa marta - Not a Chilean slang word, but slang for marijuana in Latin America (according to the Internet).

cachai - Do you get me?/ Y’know? / Yea? At it’s core, it is essential just asking if they are on the same page.

po: Just used for emphasis when speaking.

weon: This is the most commonly used slang word in Chile. It’s meaning can range from ‘dude’ or ‘man’ to as a term of endearment, greeting to idiot or worse. The meaning all depends on context and emphasis. I am being serious when I say Chileans say this in every other sentence.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #Virgil Sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #Analogical #royality #my writing #potater420 #ask prompt #why do I do this to myself

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y-not-loki · 6 years ago

Text

The Royal Ass(hole) | Loki L.

A/N: So this is really horrible (because I refuse to say the swear word equivalent of poopy, even though this one-shot swears... a lot). I’m so sorry this took so long to finish, and it’s of poor quality as well. Anyway, this is for @hollandroos‘s 15k writing challenge (CONGRATULATIONS, YOU AMAZING HUMAN). Another thing that may add to the fact that this is late, is because I had to retype everything word for word from my Word document simply because my MacBook Air doesn’t want to co-operate with me the same way that my other laptop did.

Warnings: A LOT OF SWEARING (or a lot by my standards). That’s about it, let me know if more warnings need to be added.

Word Count: 3 200

Blurb: (Y/N) is one of Fury’s most trusted advisors and probably one of the most powerful mutants in existence. (Y/N) was also somehow tricked into babysitting Loki for his (hopefully) brief banishment to Midgard by Fury. Somehow Fury managed to save up the 50 favours required for something as drastic as this, and (Y/N) is quite pissed that she had managed to get herself manipulated into this situation. Loki helps her plan revenge. Maybe Loki isn’t as much of a royal asshole, but he does have a nice royal ass.

Prompt: “I thought royals were supposed to be... you know, nice?”

*DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN ANYTHING IN THIS BUT THE PLOT*

“Sorry, Agent 21, you have to follow direct orders from the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.” Fury gave (Y/N) a smirk, and she just scowled. “That and, as we agreed, I have saved up the 50 favours needed for something so important.”

“When I said that 50 favours were needed for something as important as babysitting a supervillain, I didn’t think you would take it seriously.” She grumbled and crossed her arms across her chest.

That didn’t help. Her wrist was now in sight and she could see the words etched into her skin. Everyone had one. Sometimes two or three. Hers was just the weirdest. It read: So this is the mortal that I am to be chained to? So she was assuming that her soulmate wasn’t of this world, and that she wouldn’t encounter him, her, or them any time soon. She didn’t need distractions.

“Just do it. It’ll give you a break.”

“A BREAK?! FROM DOING WHAT I ACTUALLY LIKE?!” She yelled, before taking a deep breath and then letting her arms drop to her sides.

“YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THIS ISN’T AN ORDER COMING FROM YOUR FRIEND, BUT FROM YOUR DIRECTOR. THIS IS FOR THE GREATER GOOD.” Fury yelled back, he didn’t often yell, preferring to scare others with quiet and deadpan expressions, but (Y/N) and Fury had known each other for quite a while, they knew each other from before time when neither of them had even heard of Carol Danvers. Whilst Fury looked like he had grown, eyepatch and everything, (Y/N) still looked like a 16-year-old or 17-year-old, even if she was only ten or so years younger than Director Fury.

“Greater good my ass.” (Y/N) muttered, putting her hands in the pockets of the sleeveless hoodie she wore over her ‘super-suit’ as Stark liked to call it. He had designed it specifically so that it would contain her abilities if she ever got out of control, and she wore it as often as she could in case she did go out of control. It had happened once, and she was never allowing it to happen again, but you could never be too careful.

“What was that?” Fury asked in a menacing, yet quiet, manner, and (Y/N) glanced over to him. He had amusement in his eye, but his facial expressions were set in stone, mouth in (somehow) a completely straight line, and his eyebrows furrowed with exasperation. One thing that caught her eyes, was the fact that his one, visible eye was bloodshot.

“I said, I’ll be next door, send the idiot who pissed you off over when they’re ready.”

“I’m almost certain that that wasn’t what you said.”

“Too bad you don’t have super-hearing”

“Too bad.” Fury chuckled as (Y/N) slammed the door behind her and sunk into one of the plain grey couches in the almost empty room.

It was one of the briefing rooms, especially made for top operatives where they met Fury for their special missions.

It had two identical grey couches, no vents or windows, only walls and the one door which was locked from the outside. There was a metal block between the two couches, and in the centre was a projector to project the mission and reports of any victims, targets, potential suspects and whatnot.

It wasn’t very high tech for the reason that they may have to host a supervillain and this was where the superhero met their arch nemesis and things exploded.

She didn’t buy into that bullshit. She fought and survived, only fought and survived. Whilst Nick Fury Jr. may have saved her life, he also doomed it the same day. Sure, she enjoyed working in the field and finding challenges to defeat and obstacles to work around, always keeping her body fit and mind sharp, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t harrowing.

She traced the words written in a neat cursive around her wrist like a bracelet. Everyone had one. She knew, because the first time she met Fury, he had scars around his wrist. I don’t need a soulmate. They’re a liability. He had said. Now look at him. He made friends, he had a mismatched family, he had more liabilities than (Y/N) had kills.

And she had been killing for a long time.

The door creaked open, and there could be bickering heard on the other side before a tall, pale man was shoved into the room, his long hair reaching his shoulders and he huffed, chains were connecting his waist, wrists and ankles, making every movement sound like a thunderclap to (Y/N)’s sensitive, enhanced ears. She was born with something like the Super Soldier Serum, but a hundred times stronger, although she didn’t have the strength aspect, only the speed and enhanced senses. There was one last thing that she could do, and that was what she was known for. Manipulation of living matter.

The mighty Thor strode in, as if he owned the place, but (Y/N) guessed that’s what he’d be used to after being a prince for his entire life, and now a king.

“Lady (Y/N), it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Director Fury talks very highly of you.” Thor bowed as (Y/N) stood up, and as (Y/N) drew closer, he snatched her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles.

(Y/N) grimaced, not bothering to hide her discomfort. “Please do not touch me without warning, lest you find yourself dismembered. And whatever Fury told you about me may be due to the fact that I am his best weapon.” She told him emotionlessly, before turning to the other prince. He had a look of disgust and indifference.

“So this is the mortal that I am to be chained to?” He sneered, and (Y/N) could feel the blood leave her face. Quick, think of a smart response. This is the person you have to be chained to for the rest of your life. (Y/N)’s mind raced and she panicked.

“I thought royals were supposed to be... you know, nice?” She responded with as much bravado as she could muster, rolling her eyes to add to the effect. “You are Loki, Prince of Asgard, trickster, silver-tongue, Rightful King of Jotunheim, and a royal pain in the ass. I know. But to make both of our lives easy for the next few months or so, please keep your trap shut.”

It was Loki’s turn to look shocked, and he awkwardly rubbed at his neck. That was when (Y/N) spied a messy scrawl around his neck, almost as if it acted like a necklace. Thor had a similar one, albeit slightly messier.

Thor gave his brother a knowing smirk before nodding at the two of them. “I shall take my leave now. Good like, Lady (Y/N), I know how had it can be to control my brother. Until we meed again, brother.” And he was out the door before (Y/N) could send him a message to stay.

She was so utterly screwed. And not in the good way.

“So....” Loki prompted, and (Y/N) glared at him, taking in his facial features and committing them to memory. Her memory was absolutely perfect, enhanced as well, she remembered every single thing and every single detail. And hated it. Fury didn’t know about that detail, but he had his assumptions. “You’re my soulmate.” Silver-tongue? Don’t know them. Loki cursed himself, he was meant to be smooth.

“And you’re mine.” (Y/N) said simply, and gestured to the couches. “Take a seat, Loki, and we will talk over rules and laws that you must follow.”

Loki gave a big sigh, almost melodramatic. “If we must.”

“We must.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and took a seat on one of the couches, watching him carefully, memorising every part of him. The way he moved. Which side he favoured. The way he carried himself. His face. His eyes. His lips- NO. NO. NO. JUST NO. NOT NOW. BUSINESS MODE ACTIVATE. Loki looked amused, apparently having caught (Y/N) in the act, and she blushed, before tapping the metal box twice, and the hologram sprung to life.

She still watched him through the holograms, she controlled both sides, and there were two screens, one facing Loki, and the other facing her, as Loki had taken a seat on the opposite sofa.

She knew he was watching her openly, a cheeky smirk on his perfect lips. His scent filled her nostrils, and she tried desperately not to just inhale excessively. Mint and sweets, with a tinge of snow or rain.

She pulled up his documents. “This is what we have on you.” She said calmly, and he raised an eyebrow, pulling his eyes from her and to the documents that currently hovered in front of him. He flipped through the, not seeming to care at all as (Y/N) watched carefully.

“Most of it is correct. But I did not lead the army to Midgard, Thanos did. Under his direction, I was to take over Midgard. And then when I started to rebel against his control, he....” Loki trailed off and his face closed up, not only in the emotional sense, but also, his eyes closed, his mouth closed and he seemed to be in pain. (Y/N) analysed his movements, the small things. He wasn’t lying, she had been trained to find out if someone is lying, and she didn’t detect a single lie. But he was the God of Lies. Silver-tongue. Remember that.

There was a change and he opened his eyes again, they weren’t the cold blue they were originally, when he had first stepped into the room, but rather, they were tinged with green, around the iris and flecked with gold around the edge. But they were weary, and he seemed to age ten years in ten seconds, bags under his eyes that (Y/N) hadn’t noticed appeared, and his eyes were more bloodshot as if he had been crying earlier.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to press on that subject.” (Y/N) said stoically, reading him perfectly. He was prideful, of course he wouldn’t want to talk about how he was feeling and how he had been controlled and manipulated to do something.

Loki remained silent and picked at his left hand. (Y/N) noted that he 1) felt uncomfortable, and 2) was rather nervous, so picking at his left hand could indicate that he was fidgeting and wanted to be somewhere else.

(Y/N) watched him carefully, and he nodded stiffly, glancing up.

“You’re prideful and don’t care for outwardly showing emotion because it means weakness.” (Y/N) came to a conclusion, and he nodded again. “This is very popular in most of the male portion of Midgardians, but your brother is quite the opposite, he makes everyone like him by showing them that he cares and loves them, so that he isn’t weakened by showing affection, rather, he is gathering an army of supporters for when he needs them.” Loki glanced up at her, and tilted his head to the side.

“Does he, now? Could you give me an example?” Loki challenged her, eyes bright at the prospect of proving her wrong.

“Take myself as an example. There are only three people I can call my friend, or at least my confidant, because people either don’t know I exist or judge me on how many people I’ve killed. Your brother is one of them, the other two are Nick Fury and Tony Stark. Tony Stark is only my confidant at the moment.” (Y/N) told him, and Loki looked surprised.

“You, a slip of a child, have killed? In the rather protected environment of Midgard?”

“Protected only because I am part of the protection.”

“Well said.” Fury said, strutting into the room. Loki stiffened but didn’t turn to look at Fury. “Now if you could get your asses out of this room, I’d like to actually use the briefing room for briefing.”

“Fine.” (Y/N) muttered. “Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Dam right I am.” (Y/N) smirked and got up, dragging Loki by the wrist. “Let’s go, Icicle.”

(Y/N) marched him from the room, glancing down at the loud (compared to her soundless footsteps) manacles and chains.

“Are you going to take them off?”

“Nah, they look good on you.” (Y/N) responded and Loki quickly stood in front of her.

“If you are as powerful as you say you are, then you would have no trouble taking them off and not getting into trouble.”

“Trying to goad me into a releasing a wrathful god of mischief on the world?”

“Under the terms and conditions, I cannot physically harm anyone that my brother says I cannot harm.”

“No one ever reads terms and conditions in this day and age, and you only said physically, not psychologically and emotionally. As a silver-tongue, I figured you’d mare it less obvious.” (Y/N) glanced up at his face, then stepped around him, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following her, then realising she was moving with super speed. Oops.

“Hurry up. We have places to be.” (Y/N) called over her shoulder, and Loki caught up smoothly, as if she had never taken the lead.

“And what places are that?”

“Well, first of all, I need to show you around the Compound, and then I need to-” (Y/N) was cut off as Loki shoved her against the wall.

The wall opposite blew up and (Y/N) cursed the fact that the labs had been placed so close to the briefing rooms.

Loki looked alert and protective. (Y/N) would have preferred if he hadn’t treated her like a breakable doll, but the view from where she was, trapped underneath his body against the wall was.... DON’T GO THERE. NOT NOW. YOU NEED TO LET LOKI KNOW THERE ISN’T A THREAT, THAT’S JUST BRUCE AND TONY EXPERIMENTING. The thoughts raced through her mind in an instant.

But Loki wasn’t looking at the wreckage; his eyes were focused on her lips.

Uh.

She wasn’t trained for this. Sure, Nat had taught her how to use her body to lure people in, but she had no idea what to do with a soulmate.

“So... mind telling me what that explosion was?” Loki asked, his eyes trailed up to hers, but he made no effort to move away from her.

The words spilled out of her in a rush, she didn’t have enough time to edit them before they hit Loki’s ears. “Tony and Bruce are in those labs now, and I swear I told Fury that we shouldn’t put the labs near the briefing rooms, but the bugger didn’t listen. If you’re going to kiss me, then freakin’ kiss me, although I have to warn you, I have no idea what to do with a soulmate.” FUCK MY LIFE! (Y/N) thought to herself. WHY THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY THAT?!

Loki’s lips pulled up into a smirk, and then they dove down to do exactly that, kiss her that is. His lips were soft and smooth against hers, which she was sure were slightly chapped, but she didn’t care at that moment, because Loki didn’t seem to mind. They moved slowly, and (Y/N) felt like she caught the hang of it. Sort of.

His hand slid to her waist and pulled her into him, as (Y/N)’s hands got tangles in his soft hair.

“(Y/N)?!?!?!?” Tony’s voice could be heard, and (Y/N) untangled one hand from Loki’s hair without breaking lip-contact and flipped him the bird.

Loki smiled against her lips and drew away, apparently conscious of what (Y/N) was doing (literally) behind his back.

“Fuck off tinman, I can kiss my soulmate where and when I want.” (Y/N) told him grumpily.

“Oh someone’s feeling grouchy.”

(Y/N)’s face burned up and she responded even more grouchily. “Just shut your trap before I shut it permanently.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Tony smirked, and Loki just watched between them, mildly confused, but very amused.

(Y/N) flicked her wrist, and Tony’s mouth snapped shut. She grabbed Loki’s wrist and marched away, Tony’s panicked, muffled protests were lost against the thuds of her boots and the gentle swish of the movement of their clothes. Seconds later, there was a clang, and Loki looked down to see that (Y/N) had released him of his restraints, a card in hand, which promptly disappeared into one of the many pockets in her super-suit.

“So, where is my beautiful maiden taking me?” Loki smirked, and (Y/N) glanced back, rolling her eyes.

“Well, since we’d have to walk past the rest of the labs which most likely only have interns and students in them to get to the living quarters, I’ll show around these parts of the Compound, and show you your quarters when they all go home.”

“And what do these parts of the Compound include? Private nooks and crannies, I hope. And a library.” Loki’s eyes glinted mischievously, and (Y/N) grinned at him over her shoulder.

They rounded a corner, and (Y/N) pulled Loki into her as they disappeared into a corner, concealed by what seemed to be a hologram of the wall.

There was little space, and Loki was flushed up against (Y/N)’s body, and (Y/N) smirked as the slightest bit of blush crept onto his cheeks at the fact that he had been so easily led into a small cranny, then his eyes lit up and he leaned in. (Y/N) chuckled, and pushed backwards slightly, and the wall behind her swung around, leaving Loki stumbling forward and almost getting hit in the face by the spinning door.

Scowling, Loki grumbled about pesky mortals and tricky soulmates, but followed her through the door, only for his breath to be stolen away. It was an indoor garden, paths wound around gardens of varying biodiversity. Some looked like they came straight from the Sahara Desert, others from the Amazon Rainforest. But the winding paths all lead to the centre of the massive domed area, a beautiful fountain.

“Hurry up, Loki. We don’t have all day.” (Y/N) ran back to grab Loki’s wrist and dragged him towards the fountain.

“Asgard’s gardens are much prettier, although not as diverse.... it is as if the gardens of Midgard have been condensed to this small area.” Loki muttered, and (Y/N) smirked back at him.

“Thank you for your praise, I do make sure my gardens are well-maintained and represent every place in the world properly.”

“THIS,” he gestured wildly at everything. “IS YOURS?”

“Yeah, well the space isn’t mine, Fury gave it to me when I started growing vines in his office, but yeah, the gardens are mine. The fountain also isn’t mind, it’s Tony’s, he just needed to put it somewhere.”

“So what’s your ability?”

“Manipulation of all living matter. Which explains why I could shut Tony up immediately, and grow this.” (Y/N) sat down on the edge of the fountain. “Now sit, I want to hatch a plan to get revenge for Fury for making me sit out of missions for the next few months.”

“Of course, milady.” Loki smirked, and the rest of the day was spent plotting mischief and making out. They would say they plotted more, but we all know they made out more than anything.

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