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spinchip · 4 years ago

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The Skirt

Pairings: background jaya Wordcount: 3700 Warnings: ask to tag Summary: Zane gets caught admiring a skirt at the store, but he knows the rules. Boys aren’t allowed to wear that stuff... right?

It’s a sweet, simple sort of thing, where it lays across the mannequins thighs. It’s a high waisted skirt in pale pink, long pleats that fold nicely. It’s paired with a tight white long sleeve shirt tucked in, and a gaudy hot-pink trench coat, and a pair of beige booties. The outfit is nice- the jacket a little much for his own personal taste, but cute in it’s own way. He glances down at his own hips and back up, imagining how the skirt would look against his skin. He reaches out and touches along the bottom of it, feeling the smooth fibers, wondering not-seriously if they had it in his size- not that he would buy it. Not that he should even be thinking about buying it, or how it might look on, or how it might feel-

Nya rounds the corner of the aisle he’d lost himself in.

Zane jumps away from the fabric as if it’d bitten him, nearly knocking over a rack of expensive sunglasses, a hot flush of shame crawling up his throat. He clenches his hands at his side and tries to play it off by switching focus to a pair of aviators with black frames. He can see Nya as she wanders up in the reflection from the lenses, looking between him and the mannequin’s outfit he’d been examining, an inquisitive tilt to her lips.

“Zane? Do you… like this?” She reaches up to smooth out the pleats of the skirt, ruffled by his own hands.

“No.” He answers right away, not giving an inch. He fumbles to pick up a pair of sunglasses just to be doing something with his hands, and doesn’t say anything more. He knows he’s tense, but he can’t help it.

“I don’t know. I think it’s kinda cute.” She hums.

It’s… a trap, or something. Zane can’t figure out how she's trying to box him in, and it’s making him anxious, “You should buy it if you like it.” He tries, setting the glasses back with firm hands, tracing the frames of another pair.

“I don’t think the pink would match my complexion,” there’s a pause, then she tries, “It would look really good on you-”

“I do not like it.” He cuts her off, lacing his voice with steel, shoulders hunching. He strides away from her without glancing back, he doesn’t want to see the look on her face, he doesn’t want to know if she was laughing at him. She’d laughed at him before, in his pink apron, and she'd called him cute then too.

Her voice had been filled with cruel edged mirth, “He’d looked so cute in it!” as he retreats from their food fight, an unfamiliar feeling he’s learned was embarrassment welling up in his chest, making his processor hot. He threw that stupid apron away. He announced his hatred towards pink over and over again. He didn’t need to lose all his progress with a moment of weakness.

He did not like how it felt when his friends laughed at him.

The others are trailing around the store at their own pace, and Zane is lucky only Nya caught him- and even then, he has plausible deniability. Except now she’s lingering around him, he can see her out of the corner of his eye, so he sticks strictly to the mens section- folding a pair of jeans over his arm and a pale blue turtle-neck he thought would go with his eyes. He doesn’t even think about looking at the lavender button up at the end of the rack- he’d learned over the years. Lavender and pastel colors, they were just as bad as pink, even if it was in the mens section, or gender neutral. Sometimes he worries about the light blues he tended to favor, but any blue was okay all the time, probably. They hadn’t made fun of him yet.

He’s looking through a pile of joggers when Nya calls out, “Zane!”

She catches his attention and Jay and Cole as well, holding up a white dress from the rack. It’s a beautiful summer dress, white straps lined with lace leading into a sweetheart neckline, eye closures down the center before it breaks into a delicate and flowy trumpet skirt, “Isn’t this pretty?” She asks, smiling encouragingly.

It is. If you had asked him what kind of dress he’d like to wear, he would be thinking of this dress while he told you none at all.

She’s making fun of him.

He wilts a little, drawing in on himself, and swallows past the painful lump in his throat, “I suppose.” He grits out.

“Hey, why not ask me?” Jay pipes up, “I’m your boyfriend.”

Nya jumps, as if Jay’s presence in the conversation was a surprise.

“It is pretty,” Cole comments, squinting at it from the tank tops he’d been pawing through, “Not really your style, though.”

Nya shakes her head and opens her mouth, “No, I-” She stalls, glancing at Zane- who’s looking increasingly upset, “I was thinking about trying something new...” she trails off.

Jay meanders over, “Well, you should probably get a different size. This is way too big.” He comments, looking it over.

“Yeah… right.” Nya says, and Zane slips away from them quietly.

When he gets back to his room, he sets his bags from the mall on the bed and starts to pull out his new clothes. Nya had let it go, in the end, and hadn’t teased him about his slip up after the dress thing, so the rest of the trip had been nice. They’d stopped at the food court for lunch and spent some time in the skateboard shop so kai could buy some new wheels, and then an hour and a half goofing around at the arcade before they’d called it a day.

Zane folded his new pants and tucked them into the dresser, reaching blindly into his bag while thinking about what to make for dinner.

All thoughts of food vanish from his head when he pulls out the pale pink skirt he’d been admiring.

He drops it and jerks his hands back to his chest, spinning around as if to catch Nya jump out from behind a potted plant and shout aha! Caught ya! ...but no one is there. He’s alone. He approaches the offending article of clothing cautiously, digging his receipt out from his bag while already certain he won’t see the skirt listed there. Nya must have bought it and slipped it in with his things, there’s no other explanation. It’s his size. Why? Is there a… a joke here? What is Zane not getting?

He should take it back to her and let her return it, probably. He picks it up and tosses it in the trashcan next to his desk instead, and puts away the rest of his clothes with hands he makes sure don’t shake. He doesn’t entertain the idea of trying it on. Pink and lavender weren’t allowed, skirts- skirts were worse. A pink skirt… he shakes his head, hanging up a new turtle neck, and leaves the skirt behind in the darkness of his room.

Nya sits up a little straighter when he comes into the living room, “How was… putting away your clothes?” She finishes clunky, fishing for his reaction to her prank.

“Fine.” He says without breaking stride, crossing into the kitchen and plucking his plain white apron up off the hook, sliding it over his head and getting to work.

Except, even as he chops onions and serves dinner and eats with his friends, even as they play video games and watch a movie, he can’t stop thinking about the skirt. It’s there, in the back of his mind- he’d always liked skirts, thought they were pretty and sweet. He used to dream about buying nice skirts and dresses when he could afford it, different kinds for different occasions like maxi dresses and pencil skirts, but this was before he knew it was silly and laughable. Before it was wrong.

When the night finally comes to a close, and he retires back to his room, he makes a bee line for his trashcan and delicately pulls the skirt out. He sets it on his bed and pats out the wrinkles, appreciating the craftsmanship.

He locks the door and undresses, sliding the skirt over his hips. He zips it in place and takes a step towards the mirror before he hesitates, throwing off his blue hoodie and digging up a tighter white turtleneck. It’s the closest thing he has to the outfit the mannequin was wearing that he’d liked so much. He smooths down the pleats, playing with the edge- something tight and uncomfortable in his chest loosens, and he breathes easier. It’s nice. It feels… like he always thought it would.

He steps in front of the mirror. He fiddles with the cuffs of his sweater, smiling at his reflection. He looked good, the skirt fits perfectly. He poses even though it makes him feel a little immature, striking several different stances, turning around to see all the angles. He’s got the perfect set of shoes to pair with this-

He stops halfway to his closet, standing in the middle of his room wearing a skirt he loves, reality rushing back.

He takes the skirt off, pulling on a pair of pajama pants, and folds it nice and neatly. He unlocks his door and walks across the monastery to Nyas bedroom, knocking politely. There’s a long pause before he can hear her footsteps on the hardwood. The door opens and she squints at the hallway light, blinking up groggily at Zane, “Huh?” She quips eloquently.

He holds the skirt out and drops it, she fumbles to catch it, “Return it.” he tells her, “I do not want it.”

She blinks, her sleep addled mind processing before it connects, “Zane,” She shakes her head, holding it out, “It’s yours, I saw you looking at it- it’s a nice skirt, it would look nice on you.”

He refrains from saying it does. He frowns hard, he doesn’t get it- she sounds so sincere, but he knows the rules, “I do not understand the joke. Am I supposed to wear this so you may laugh at me?”

Nya looks lost, “Laugh?”

“Like my pink apron.” He explains, huddling into himself, “Except this is worse.”

Understanding lights up her face with shame and sadness, “Zane… I-”

“Return it.” He insists, pushing the skirt back towards her, and then hesitates, “Please. Do not tell the others.”

He takes a step back and nods, turning away and bidding a hasty retreat. When he gets back to his room he stubbornly refuses to think about how freeing it was, how good it felt. He stamps down any longing as he crawls into bed, and falls asleep most certainly not filled with regret.

The following morning, Nya slinks into the kitchen as Zane and Kai are putting together breakfast looking like a kicked puppy. She keeps throwing inconspicuous sad eyes at Zane that he’s stubbornly refusing to acknowledge, but she thankfully doesn’t let the others catch on or else she might be forced to tell them what was bothering her.

After breakfast, she offers to help Zane with the dishes, and meets his “I do not require assistance,” With polite insistence, where she ends up washing as he dries and puts them away.

It isn’t until they’re nearly done that she organizes her thought’s enough to turn to him as he puts away the final stack of plates and says, “I think you should keep the skirt.”

He feels himself grow tense, closing the cupboard slowly before he looks at her, turning around to face her and scrutinizing her expression hard. He tries to dissect her intentions, tries to figure out why she’s saying this- he knew Nya had joined in on the teasing before, but he didn’t think she would push so hard. All his previous data suggests she doesn’t have a cruel streak like this in her, but she’s been keeping the joke going hard.

He entertains the idea that she really is being sincere, but that doesn’t make sense either, because there were rules. Zane had to figure them out fast when he was younger and newly exposed to the world- You have to make eye contact when conversing with people to be respectful, asking for explanations to jokes ruins the fun, and boys should never wear girl clothes. If you broke the rules, you were weird, and people laughed at you, and they made fun of you.

“No thank you.” He says stiffly, turning away and rinsing out the sink, “I do not like it.”

She looks miserable, “I’m sorry we laughed.”

He shakes his head and doesn’t respond, the conflicting information making his head hurt, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

A week later, the team has another rare day off. They’d set aside the day to go to the park, and Zane was looking forward to it. He’d spent the previous day in between patrols picking up ingredients to pack the perfect picnic. Cole throws open the door to the kitchen as Zane finishes packing up his basket, hauling a large cooler behind him.

“Hey frosty!” He greets, popping the lid on the cooler and fishing out waters and juice from the fridge, “Aren’t you gonna be hot dressed like that?” He comments.

Zane glances down at his jeans and t-shirt in comparison to Cole’s tanktop and shorts combo, “I am the master of Ice.” He points out, “I don’t get hot.”

Cole concedes his point with a dip of his head, “Speaking of master of ice, can I get a little help with keeping the drinks cool?”

Zane nods, waving a hand over the cooler and packing the drinks with snow and ice. Cole thanks him as Zane hefts up his basket, the two meeting the rest of their team on the deck of the bounty. Nya perks up as they come out on deck, and steps aside so the two can see their teammates.

Jay already looks overheated, miserably melting under the sun. Lloyd seems unbothered, dressed in a sleeveless hoodie and shorts. Kai basks in the sun, smiling brilliantly, wearing a t-shirt and…

Zanes processor stutters, “Are you wearing a skirt?” He asks neutrally, blinking down at Kai’s maroon pleats.

“Yeah,” Kai glances down at the fabric, “Nya gave it to me, it doesn’t fit her anymore. Isn’t it cute?”

Zane has no idea how to respond, so Cole beats him to it, “Looks good, dude, but how are we supposed to play frisbee?”

“I got shorts on underneath so I don't accidentally flash anyone.” Kai waves his hand dismissively, and no one else comments on the wrongness of the outfit.

Tentatively, Zane says, “You… like to wear skirts?”

Kai frowns, mistaking the hesitance for judgement, “Is that a problem for you?”

Zane looks away, “Not at all.” He says, confusion making his voice stiff, missing the way the others glance at his tone of voice disapprovingly.

They go to the park, and Zane can’t stop looking at Kais skirt. He finds himself frowning at the other man more than once, shaking the confusion out of his head and trying to ignore it. Did it… really not matter that Kai was wearing a skirt? Cole had complimented him, and Jay hadn’t said anything against it either. He finds himself not joining in on the frisbee game most of the time, focusing on getting the picnic set up to hide how he was too mixed up to focus on the sport. Soon enough, the others wrap up their game and join Zane on the blanket Nya had packed.

They eat and chat idly, and Kai sighs in content after he’s finished, sitting back, “That was amazing as always, Zane!”

Zane doesn’t look at him as he puts away his own half-eaten sandwich, “Thank you.” He says simply, lost in thought.

“Zane.” Jay says, and Zane glances up at him. He startles slightly at the way Jay is looking at him, pointedly disapproving, “Why are you being so weird about Kais skirt?”

“...Why aren’t you?” Zane asks genuinely, familiar hot shame crawling up his throat as his friends frown at him.

“Dude…” Kai mutters, clearly hurt, “Not cool.”

Shame, confusion, and guilt swallow Zane up for a long moment before it’s burned up by a flash of frustration. It didn’t make sense. They’d made fun of him years ago for his pink apron, laughed him out of the room and not bothered enough to see if he was alright afterwards because he broke the rules- he gets it, he wore the wrong clothes, it’s a funny joke… So why is Kai allowed it where Zane isn’t? Why is it funny when it’s Zane? Why does he get mocked while Kai gets defended? Defended when Zane hasn’t and wouldn’t ever make fun of him for his outfit-!

He stands up abruptly, “I’m going back to the bounty.” He announces before he turns on heel and all but runs from them.

“Zane!” Nya calls, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Let him go.” Cole says firmly, and Zane clenches his eyes shut as he boards the bounty.

His stomach churns with his tumultuous thoughts and he makes a bee line for the room they have in the bounty, crawling into his bunk bed and curling into a ball. He stares miserably at the wooden walls, thinking about too many different things.

He misses his pink apron.

He didn’t think it was funny when he saw Kai in that skirt. He thought he looked nice...

Why did they laugh at him?

He wakes up at the sound of quiet voices, disoriented for a moment- he didn’t remember falling asleep. He makes his way out of bed slowly, the room dark, and blinks against the harsh hallway light as he steps out of their bedroom. He rubs sleep out of his optics as they adjust to the change in atmosphere, making his way to the living room.

He stops in the doorway, looking in at his friends. Kai is still wearing his skirt, laying across the recliner sideways, his legs thrown over the edge. The others are in various states around the living room, laying on the couch or the floor asa movie plays unwatched on the TV screen, the quiet sounds what lured Zane here in the first place.

Zane’s stomach plummets as he remembers the hurt look on Kai’s face at lunch. He didn’t want to make Kai feel like he did, he didn’t want him to feel laughed at, “Kai?” He says from the doorway.

The room reacts to his voice, everyone immediately sitting up to peer at him. Jay's head poked over the back of the couch along with Coles, and Nya and Lloyd craned their heads around the couch from the floor.

“Hey, Zane…” Kai says, sitting properly in the chair.

“I want to apologize.” Zane says quietly, “I really have no issue with you wearing what you like. I am sorry I acted so oddly.”

Kai fiddles with the edge of the skirt, “It’s okay… I know.” He says just as soft, “I think we all owe you an apology too.”

Zane tilts his head in confusion, stepping into the room a little more.

Jay nods, “Yeah, Zane, we’re sorry.” He says sincerely, “We acted like total jerks about your apron.”

“My apron…” Zane’s eyes flicker to Nya, who ducks her head a little at how she obviously snitched.

“Nya told us what was bothering you, and we feel really bad about it.” Cole agrees, “We were stupid and mean. There’s nothing wrong with wearing pink.”

“Or skirts.” Kai pipes up, “I’m sorry we hurt you.”

“If you want to wear that stuff,” Lloyd adds, “No one will laugh.”

Zane blinks at the way his eyes water dangerously, looking down at the floor, “It is not… wrong?”

“No.” Kai says firmly, “We were wrong, not you. Wear what makes you happy, and we’ll be on your side.”

Zane swallows and thinks about how much he’d loved the pink skirt, how pretty he’d felt with it on, “I accept your apology.” He says with a small smile, “Thank you.”

Nya grins and with a wink says, “I think i have something that belongs to you, then.” She stands, “But first… group hug?”

Smiling, Zane holds up his arms, and the others converge on him. He hugs them back tightly, smile growing wider as he sighs happily. The frustration and hurt sliding off his shoulders makes him feel so light, and a barrier he hadn’t realized he’d raised falls to pieces.

He couldn’t wait for their next off day.

Which comes sooner than he expects. It’s rare to get out of patrol so often, but Lloyd insisted they make up for their slightly disasterous park trip only a few days later. Ninjago is thankfully not in terrible danger, so they decide to head to Mega Monster Amusement Park for the day- and Zane is half certain Sensei Wu allows it only because he’s craving funnel cake.

They’re supposed to leave soon, and Zane is nearly ready. He slips on a pair of white boots and laces them up, standing up and admiring his outfit in his mirror. He’s got on a loose white sweater tucked into the waistband of his pink skirt, and he adjusts it one last time before nodding in satisfaction, smiling genuinely at his reflection.

He does a little twirl because he can’t help himself before he throws open the door to his room and makes his way to the deck of the bounty, smiling as the skirt bounces and flows with every step.

He’s the last to arrive, the others all waiting for him. To his pleasant surprise, there’s no flash of anxiety as he trots over- they won’t laugh. He knows they won’t.

Nya lights up when she sees him, “Zane’s here!”

Zane happiness seems to be contagious, the others all perking up at the sight of him.

“You look really nice.” Kai compliments when he gets close, and Zane smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Yeah, that’s a nice color on you.” Cole comments.

Jay nods in agreement, “Zane looks really good, yes! Can we go to the amusement park already?”

Zane laughs, bubbly and light, “Thank you all! Jay’s right, let us go have some fun.”

As they disembark the bounty, Zane makes eye contact with Nya, and smiles softly at her. She grins in return, bumping shoulders with him, and they catch up with the others.

#zane julien #nya ninjago #kai ninjago #jay ninjago #cole ninjago #ninjago #spinchip fic #wu ur student looks gnc af

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wandanatfluff · 3 years ago

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The Life That's Left To Live - Part I - Take Me Home

Series (This part:) Fluff

Prologue | Part I

Summary series: You’re a little girl when the avengers find you. Natasha becomes kind of a mother to you. Then about 7 years later when you’re 21 you go live with the avengers again for a while, because they need your help with something. The avengers are like a family to you. Wanda is still new to the avengers and doesn’t know what happened in your past. You sleep in Wanda’s room in an extra bed and the two of you become friends. You are a quite happy, social and spontaneous girl, but there’s a sad/depressed side to you that sometimes comes to the surface.

Summary of this part: Natasha calls you with information about your brother and you go to the Avengers compound, where you meet Wanda.

Pairing: Natasha (mother figure/mentor) x Female Reader Wanda (platonic (for now at least)) x Female Reader

Warnings for this part: -

Word count: 2.2 K

A/n: To be honest I think it turned out okay, I spent quite a while on this. Title: Take Me Home, by Chord Overstreet. The fic isn’t directly based or related to the song. The title just fits ;-). The series title is a line from Love Is War, by RUNAGROUND. I hope you enjoy it!

Source: Pinterest

Absentmindedly you listen to the person in front of you. Some annoying colleague that is going on and on about a something that you would have done wrong. They had been going on for almost ten minutes and by now, you had stopped listening. Your mind drifted off to happy memories. It was something you did quite often. By reliving old memories once in a while, they would become recent in your mind again, which made it easier to go back to them, when you were feeling low. You thought about your younger self on the back of your brother’s bike, your small arms wrapped around his waist, your head pressed against his back. It had been his birthday and he had gotten a new bike. You didn’t like bikes, but when he asked for you to ride along the neighborhood with him, you gave in. Your childhood was filled with a lot of fear, but your brother always seemed to take that away. He was in almost all of your joyful memories. He was your safe place.

Your phone chimed, snapping you back into reality. You excused yourself from the ‘conversation’ and left the room. Once you close the door, you answer your phone.

“I owe you Nat! You saved me!”

“Hey Y/n… What did I save you from?”

“Some colleague, who was being incredibly tedious.”

“Need me to kill anyone?”

“Uhm… No. But what are you calling about?”

“We got new information about your brother and we need your help with it.” You fell silent for a moment at the mention of your brother.

“Oh... What is it?”

“I’m sorry Y/n, I can’t tell you over the phone. You’ll have to come to the compound.”

“Okay… I can do that. I’ll leave tomorrow morning and be there around dinner time?”

“Perfect. See you then.”

After cooking yourself some dinner you went to your room to pack. You dug deep in your closet to find your weekend bag. It had been a while since your last trip. You don’t travel that much. To be honest, you don’t travel at all. Your daily routine leaves just enough time for your daily work-out, some me-time and occasionally a movie. Staying busy avoids overthinking stuff, or well… overthinking more specific things. It took you a while to build up a routine. Have breakfast, work out, drive to the office, do your work, pretend to listen to the gossip from your fellow colleagues during the lunch break. Not that anything about your life is very challenging, but it’s just enough to keep you satisfied and to survive. Every now and then when you have a day off, you go shopping with a friend.

You are quite the cheerful girl. You are spontaneous and kind, people get along with you. You have a few friends, but none really close. The only close friends or family you have, are Nat, Steve, Tony, Clint, Thor and Bruce and you haven’t seen them in the while.

You had to empty your entire closet, but you finally found your white weekend bag with the subtle, pastel flowers pattern. You smile at it. It had been a gift from Nat. You used to have a boring and old grey bag, so she had bought you a new one. After you throw the bag on your bed, you start to fill it with clothes. You had no idea how long you’d be gone, so you packed for five days. Once your bag was fully stuffed you zipped it closed and threw it over your shoulder, making you way back to the living room.

You throw your bag next to the counter and are just about to get yourself some coffee, when the bel rings. You grab your phone and see Natasha standing in front of your door through the camera. Natasha had bought you a doorbell with a camera, to be sure you were as safe as possible when she wasn’t there. Aware of the camera she smiled at you through it. You chuckle at the sight and walk to the door to open it for her. Moments like this remind you of how amazing Natasha is. She had the key to you appartement, but chose not to use it, so she wouldn’t unnecessarily scare you.

“Surpriseee, figured I’d pick you up myself!”

“Hey Nat, come in!”

You take her jacket and hang it on the coat rack.

“How are you doing?”

“Good, actually. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just coffee, please.”

“Got it.”

You go back to the counter and get yourself and Nat some coffee. You open the fridge and get two pieces of the pie that is left from your graduation ceremony. With two slices of cake and the coffee you go to the living room. You hand Natasha, who has sat down on the couch, her coffee and put the cake on the side table.

“Oehh, is there something to celebrate?”

“Yup… I got a job!”

“Y/n! I am so proud of you. I knew you could do it!” Tears begin to well in Natasha’s eyes and she puts down her coffee to give you a hug. You bury you head in her neck and let out a small sniff. She knew what it meant for you to get your first real job. The small party one of your friends threw had been basic. Everyone had congratulated you, but Natasha was the only one who truly took her time to express her happiness. She was the only one who knew what it meant to you. It had been a long way, a long, long way, but you made it! You did it!

She had been there with Steve when you graduated. She had driven six hours, just because she knew what it would mean to you, having her there. It had been a surprise, she hadn’t told you she was coming, so when you saw her from the stage you had broken down in tears.

You catch up a bit, after which you both go to bed. You turn the sofa into a bed for Natasha so she can sleep on it, but before you rest your eyes, Natasha helps you fill another suitcase with clothing. She laughed at the sight of your single bag and suggested you’d pack another suitcase.

*** After six hours of sleep Natasha wakes you up. You take the time to get out of your bed, you take a shower and put on some make-up. In a pair of light skinny jeans and a lively orange tank top, that complemented you tan, you sit down at the kitchen island. Natasha had made you breakfast and after you finished it, you got in the car. The ride would take about six hours, so before hitting the road, you stopped at the supermarket to get some snacks and drinks for on the way. After three hours you had a pit-stop at the MacDonald’s to get some lunch. You ordered the food via the McDrive and ate it in the car on the parking lot. When the food was finished you hit the road again. You had switched places, meaning Natasha would finish the drive to the compound. Natasha was still sipping from her milkshake in one hand, her other hand on the wheel. You leaned against the door with you head on your arm. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin as you dozed off.

A bump in the road woke you up.

You shot up straight. When you realized there was no danger, you leaned back into you chair, resting you head against the headrest.

“Slept well, princess?” Nat teasingly said.

“Nat!” You stumped her shoulder with your elbow. She grinned, but kept her eyes on the road. A comfortable silence fell and you closed your eyes again, not intending to sleep again though.

“No, but for real. How have you been sleeping?” You knew what she meant. She wanted to know if you still had nightmares. They would still terrorize your nights sometimes. You would wake up sweating and shaking. Wide awake you would sit in the middle of your bed at midnight, tears running down your cheeks.

“Uhm, okay, I guess. Some nights better than others.” She turned her head to look at you, giving you a sweet smile. She laid her hand on your leg, her palm up. You put your hand in hers, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Now we’re talking about sleeping, a few rooms are under renovations, so the rooms are full. You can sleep in Wanda’s room. She has an extra bed on her room.”

“Is she okay with that?”

“I think so.”

“You didn’t ask her!?”

“No, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

“Nat…”

“Just kidding, I told her she would have to share her room with you.”

“And…?”

“She was fine with it.”

*** With your suitcase in your hand, your bag over your shoulder and music in your ears, you enter Wanda’s room. On the right side of the room there’s a king-sized bed with two chairs and a coffee table on the left side of the bed, next to the window that covers the entire back side of the room, providing a view of the trees and water next to the compound. On the left side of the room there is a large wardrobe, a door to the bathroom and in the corner there’s a single bed, parallel to the window. Above the bed there’s a shelf with a plant, some books and a light string. The room wasn’t very decorated, there weren’t many personal items. One wall was painted in a grey tone with a hint of purple and there was a purple bedspread, covering the lower side of Wanda’s bed. On the nightstand was a photo of Wanda, standing next to a boy with white hair. You figured it must be her brother, Natasha had told you about the twins and the tragedy. Apart from the photo and some plants, there was nothing personal in the room.

You walked to the bed you’d be sleeping in and dropped your bags on the floor. You sat down on the bed and with your feet still on the ground you let your back rest on the bed, closing your eyes as you take the time to take in the feeling of home. To be honest you feel more home at the Avengers compound then at your own appartement. After a few minutes you got up from the bed and put on some upbeat music as you start to make the bed.

Singing along to the music cheerfully, you put the duvet in its cover. With both corners of the blanket in your hands you shake the cover over the duvet. With the music in both your ears you didn’t hear someone come in, so when you feel a hand on your shoulder, you are slightly startled. You quickly stop the music and take out your AirPods. You turn around to lay your eyes on a beautiful woman with coper locks flowing over her shoulders.

“You must be Y/n.”

Wanda knew who you were, your name would regularly come up in a conversation. She didn’t know much about you other than your name. You were kind of a mystery to her. She was new to the team and hadn’t personally met you yet. One thing is clear to her, though. No one bothered to mention how gorgeous you were. With a lump in her throat, she looked into your eyes, once you had turned around to face her. The woman that was standing in front of her seemed like a nice, cheerful person. She had a beautiful smile on her face, but there was something in her eyes that showed her happiness hadn’t always been a given. She took her in, her hair up in a high pony tail with curtain bangs accentuating her face, she was wearing an orange tank top, which showed off her tanned skin, on top of light flared jeans and elegant black ankle boots. Jeez, she was beautiful.

“Guilty as charge.” You responded. “It’s my pleasure meeting you…”

Witty too. You reminded her of her brother.

“Wanda.”

“Ah Wanda! Natasha told me so much about you. Nice to finally meet you. Oh, and Natasha said I could sleep here for the time being. Is that okay with you?”

Natasha talked about her? That was a good thing… right? To be honest Wanda was rather intimidated by Natasha. Even though she had been welcomed with open arms into the group, once, you know, she had switched sides, it had been quite hard for her to adjust to the group.

“Yeah, she told me. It’s fine”

“Cool”

“Do you need help with the bed?”

“Oh no, I’m done.”

She noticed the bed was nicely made and saw your weekend bag, half under your bed.

“You can use that dresser if you want, and if you want to hang any of your clothes, you can put them in my closet.”

“Oh thanks!”

“No problem.”

“I was about to start dinner, the rest should be back in an hour.”

“I’ll make sure I’ll be there on time, I wouldn’t want to miss whatever culinary art you intend to make.” You said teasingly.

“Great, I’ll see you in an hour then

155 notes · View notes

loveelle · 4 years ago

Text

Only as Friends

Alive!Luke Patterson x reader AU

Request from Anon: Can we get maybe a rich/playboy Luke Patterson x reader were he is best friends with Carrie and can basically get any girl he wants and sets his sights on Julie’s equally rich, feisty and incredibly confident BFF who wants nothing to do with him? Even though she finds him incredibly attractive?

A/N: There’s no need for this to be so long. I literally just- *face palms* Let me know what you thought my dear anon because I went totally off script I think?

WC: 7.1K (I literally love long fics, I’m not sorry anymore)

MASTER

---

Luke’s eyes traveled down the body of the girl in front of him as he smirked. “So, what are you doing this weekend?” he asked, leaning in slightly and catching the girl’s gaze on his lips before they flickered up and she shrugged.

“I’ve got no plans.” She smiled sweetly and fluttered her lashes.

“Perfect.” Luke brushed a hand over a fallen curl in front of her face as he spoke. “I was thinking maybe we could-“

“Nope!” His words were cut off as Carrie round the corner, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the girl.

Luke threw a smile and wink at the girl before he faced front and let Carrie lead him down the hall. “I was talking to her.”

“Oh yeah?” Carrie quirked a brow and threw a glance back to the girl who was staring after Luke. “What’s her name?”

Luke thought for a second, his brows pinched together before he wore a confident smirk. “Sarah.”

“Stephanie.” She deadpanned.

“Well… I got the first letter right.” Luke threw his arm over Carrie’s shoulder and he’s already forgotten about the girl.

“Yeah, congrats.” Carrie patted his back and they walked to homeroom. “Seriously though, do you have to flirt with every girl you find in the hall?”

“What, like you don’t?” she rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore her best friend and turn to the few members of her band. Luke sneered at her playfully behind her back, earning a few giggles from the girls but he didn’t pay attention to them. His focus had shifted entirely when your laugh rang through his ears, pulling his eyes up to the door where you walked in with Julie Molina on your arm and smiles on your faces. From here, Luke couldn’t tell what your conversation was about, but he could tell that you were beautiful beyond belief and he was struck.

He licked his lip impatiently, watching you drop your bag on a desk not far from him as he shifted in his seat to tap Carrie’s shoulder. “What?” Carrie’s whisper was sharp as she glared incredulously at him and his eyes which were still glued to you.

“Who’s that?” He nodded in your direction.

With a huff, Carrie glanced over and shrugged. “Julie?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “I know who Julie is, Care. I’m talking about the girl next to her.”

Carrie did another look before humming as she understood. “Oh, that’s Y/N. She’s Julie’s best friend. Used to live here, but her dad had to move for work a few years ago and her mom and her moved back, maybe a week ago, because her parents divorced.”

Leave it to Carrie to know all the gossip in others’ lives. “Y/N.” Luke whispered, letting your name roll off his tongue and he decided he liked it.

Carrie narrowed her eyes, watching her best friend before she shook her head. “No, that’s not happening.” It was Luke’s turn to be confused. “You and Y/N. Believe me, Luke, Y/N isn’t going to be one of your hookups.”

He groaned, letting his head fall back and unknowingly catch the attention of you across the room.

“J, who’s that?” you mumbled to your best friend, ripping your eyes from the brown-haired boy who wasn’t wearing sleeves. You got no answer when you saw she already had her nose buried in her songbook. You grabbed her arm and shook her. “Julie!”

“Oh, sorry.” She sighed out and glanced back to where you were looking again. “Luke Patterson.”

You nodded your head and gave him a once-over. You were still learning your way around the school, so you weren’t surprised you missed him, but you were surprised that you missed someone so handsome.

“Is that all you’re going to say?” you raised a brow before something clicked in your brain. “Wait, do you mean Luke ‘I-think-I-am-in-love-with-him’ Patterson?” Julie winced at the mention of her former infatuation with the boy.

“Yes, that would be him.” She grumbled and slowly closed her book. “But that was before that whole playboy act he’s got goin’ on.”

Pulling your eyes off him, you scrunched your face. “Playboy?”

Julie nodded before her face turned stoic. “Please don’t tell me that he just got hotter in your mind.”

“Whaaaat? Noooo.” You rolled your eyes playfully and Julie let out a laugh that you had to match, clinging on to each other. “I’m serious!” your chuckles subsided. “I’m not into the flirt with everyone act.”

“Hello, Ladies.” Your conversation was diverted by the sudden appearance of none other than the boy himself. You were slightly worried he heard you, but you didn’t care.

“What do you want, Luke?” Julie asked and you hid a laugh at how fake her smile was.

At the sound once again, Luke found himself smiling. “Not much, Molina. I just wanted to get to meet your friend here. Y/N, is it?” Your brow raised as you nodded, not doing much to stop your eyes from flickering down his body. Something Luke noticed. “I’m Luke. I’m in a band, maybe you’ve heard of us? Sunset Curve. Maybe I could play for you sometime. I play guitar and I’m the lead singer.”

Oh wow, just to add to his act, he’s in a band? Shocker.

“That’s great.” You told him, watching his smirk deepen before you could hold back a guffaw. “And I really don’t care.”

Luke’s frown was sudden, and Julie couldn’t help but laugh so loud, attracting the attention of most of the class. Your amusement at her actions didn’t go unnoticed by Luke who was scanning your face to see if you were messing with him. He slunk away in defeat when you weren’t paying attention and sunk himself into his chair, his legs going up to rest on the table and his arms crossing in a pout.

“How’d it go?” Carrie asked pointlessly and only received an incoherent mumble from Luke. “That well then? Huh. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she will fall for your act.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice as Luke nudged her shoulder, getting her to finally give in. “Face it, Luke. Y/N’s not the kind of girl who’s going to throw herself at you. Believe me, I’ve tried. She’s better than that. Besides, her dad has so much money he could probably buy her a boyfriend.”

“More money than me or you?”

“No, of course not.” Carrie huffed out in annoyance before she took a deep breath. It wasn’t often that Luke met someone that made Carrie jealous, the last time it happened was when Julie got back into music after her mother’s death, coming back stronger than ever. “If you want to waste your time trying to win over Y/N, be my guest. But until then, keep your feet off the desk.” She pushed Luke’s feet and they landed with a thud on the floor. His pout deepened and he scooted forward to rest on his elbows, directing his pout your way as you talked to Julie and now Flynn who had joined after he left.

“Hey, Y/N?” Flynn sat at the desk in front of Julie and you as she looked over your shoulders. You hummed, prompting her to continue. “Why is Luke Patterson giving you puppy dog eyes behind you?”

Julie immediately choked in laughter as you push her shoulder, but neither of you turned around to look at him. “It really doesn’t matter.” You said before diverting your attention to pulling out your books.

Once you weren’t looking, Flynn turned to Julie with awaiting eyes. “Luke came over and tried to hit on Y/N and she just blew him off.”

“Oh my god, Julie!” your groan caused the two girls to laugh and you to shake your head. “I don’t- I just didn’t- I’m into those types of guys, okay?” The girls looked at you like you were insane, and you pressed your lips together to hold back your annoyance. “I hate you both.” You grumbled and Julie threw her arm over your shoulder and pulled your slumping frame into her embrace.

“And we love you too.” Flynn mocked your attitude despite the quirk of her lips and Julie squeezed you before letting you go. They started into their conversation as you sat back and listened, only managing your attention away when your phone buzzed. It was your mom telling you she had to stay late at work today, hopefully getting home before you were asleep.

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you bit your lip. “What are you guys doing after school today? Wanna hang out?”

When they both gave you sad looks, you knew their answers already. “I can’t.” Julie spoke first. “After I snuck out yesterday to hang out, my Tia tried to convince my dad to ground me until graduation.”

You grimaced. “Your Tia is scary when she wants to be.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I managed to walk away with only a few days.”

“Huh, go Mr. Molina.” You shrugged and turned to Flynn. “Flynn? My beautiful, kind, and hopefully free best friend?”

“I can’t go either. I’ve got a math test tomorrow, but thanks for the compliments.” You crossed your arms as you leaned back in your chair.

“Fine, I don’t need you two to have fun. It’s LA, I’ll go and relive our childhood. Alone.” It was Julie and Flynn’s turn to roll their eyes at your dramatic act before the teacher decided to get homeroom started and your conversation broke.

---

You’d been walking and shopping for a few hours before you ended at the beach, basking in the feeling of the ocean air on your skin as you juggled the few bags of things you’ve bought. Your hands were starting to get tired as you tried to switch a certain bag between them, but only managing to drop it and knock its contents onto the concrete below you.

“Crap.” You whispered out and tried to pick it up, but with the other bags in your hands, it wasn’t working as well as you hoped.

“Let me help.” You heard as someone kneeled next to you and nicely put the few fallen things back into the bag with you.

You sighed out of relief. “Thank you so much, I didn’t know that would be so hard.” Your sentence was almost cut short when you looked up at saw that your savior was Luke Patterson. He was smiling widely at you as you both stood up and you adjusted your grip quickly before you found a comfy hold.

“It was no problem.” Luke shrugged, not dropping the look off his face. If he wasn’t so attractive, you would’ve looked away by now.

“Right, well thank you again. I’m gonna get going.” You started to turn around and barely walked a few paces before Luke rushed in front of you and kept you from leaving.

“You know, since you’re here, and I’m here, and there’s an ice cream place right over there,” he pointed behind him to where you could see the ice cream shop’s colored sign not far away, “maybe you’d want to stop and get some?”

You bit your tongue, turning away from him momentarily before you couldn’t help the small smile escaping. “Fine.” You said, seeing Luke celebrate quietly. “But only because Ice Cream sounds really good right now.” Luke nodded and before he got another idea in his head, you had an addition. “And only as friends.”

“Only as friends.” He agreed before reaching for reaching you’re a couple of your bags. You gave him a confused look and he sighed. “As much as I would love to watch you struggle with carrying those, let me help?”

You relented, handing him a few bags that were slightly heavier than the others before you walked the way to the shop in silence, well aware of the looks Luke was giving you. You opened the door of the shop, or at least you tried to before Luke beat you to it, holding it open for you to enter. You thanked him before walking inside and dumping your things at the nearest free table.

“What kind would you like?” Luke asked you, glancing at the flavors and you joined him, checking that they had your favorite before asking the worker for a cone of it. Luke did as well and before you move to pay for your cone, as well Luke’s as a thank you for helping you, you got another text message from your mother. It was her telling you that she wasn’t even going to be home tonight because she was spending it at a “friend’s” house.

You scoffed at her message, quickly texting back a short response before shoving your phone back in your pocket in time for Luke to hand you your cone. You were about to reach for your wallet before he stopped you. “I paid for the both of us while you were distracted.”

You raised a brow at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, not even bothering to argue with you on that thought before he moved to the table you claimed, and you weren’t far behind him. “So, who texted you?” Luke asked between licks of his ice cream. “Your boyfriend?”

You laughed at his not-so-subtle inquiry and nodded. “Yeah, he was wondering what time I was getting to his place tonight and if I’d bring the largest box of condoms I can find.”

Luke paused slowly, his eyes flickering from his ice cream to your face before he narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have a boyfriend.”

You smirked and took a lick of your own ice cream. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

There was a small silence between the two of you as you focused on your ice cream, noticing Luke do the same before he started drumming his fingers against the table in a way you knew something was getting at him. “Do you have a boyfriend?” His voice sounded different than it did earlier, almost softer.

Your eyes met his, and you shook your head. Luke looked relieved for a moment before he was back to the attractive grin that he’s worn all day. “I don’t, but thanks for actually asking and not trying to be smooth about it because that definitely was not.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the one who lied about having a boyfriend.” He pointed his dessert at you, and you laughed quietly, putting your hands up in admittance. Luke smiled at your laugh before he collected himself again.

The conversation between the two of you was small as you both talked a little about your hobbies and friends, but neither of you could deny you had fun talking.

“So, what were you doing here?” you asked and gestured to the beach. “I didn’t peg you for a beach guy.”

“Hell yeah, I am.” Luke said enthusiastically, and you raised your brows in surprise. He laughed at your shocked face that you tried to hide by eating your ice cream. “Nah, my uh, my band and I usually play down on the pier, that’s what we were doing before you showed up.”

You nodded as you listened to his story before furrowing your brows. “Wait a minute, did you leave your band to have ice cream with me?”

Luke froze momentarily and looked at you sheepishly. “What would you say, if I said yes?”

“Did you leave your band to have ice cream with me?”

“No, I left my band to help you pick up your bag.”

“Luke!”

“You’re better company!” He defended and you let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Look, it’s fine, they wanted to take a break anyways.”

“So, you just left them to what? Try and flirt with me?”

“No.” he said but you didn’t believe him, and he knew it. “Maybe?”

You finished up eating, reaching into your wallet, and pulling out a few dollars for your ice cream. “Thank you for helping me and for eating with me, but I’m really not interested in a hook-up, okay? I don’t do playboys.”

You stood up, slipping the bags on your arms and pushing the money across the table to him. Luke’s brows furrowed as he jumped up to stop you. “P-Playboy? That’s not me, Y/N.”

“Really?” He nodded. “So, you don’t flirt with every girl you come upon because you want her?”

“No.” He couldn’t hold your eye contact until you were silent, and he had to look back at you. “Look! I’m not a playboy.”

“I’m not interested, okay?” Luke didn’t bother protesting as you walked past him this time, barely sparing a glance back before you were out of the store and down the block.

After standing alone in the ice cream place for longer than Luke wanted, he turned around to leave before stopping in his tracks when a girl stood awfully close in front of him.

“Hi Luke!” she beamed and he stepped back, putting some distance between the two of them.

At first, he didn’t recognize her, but once he did his eyes widened. “Hey… Sarah?”

“It’s Stephanie.” She giggled and Luke faked a laugh.

“Right, Stephanie.” He started to move past her before she stepped to the side and cut him off.

“Are you still free this weekend? Maybe you want to come over and… you know?” She smirked at him and Luke smiled at her, feeling a pit in his stomach because he knew you were right.

“Actually, I can’t this weekend. Band practice.”

“Maybe next weekend?”

He swallowed thickly, trying his best to let this girl down nicely. “Listen, Stephanie, I’m sure you’re a nice girl, but I’m just not sure this is going to work out with us.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Luke scrunched his face. “I don’t think- We weren’t dat-“

“Fine! Have fun with Y/N then.” Her voice raised and Luke stepped back slowly again. “Don’t think I didn’t see you two getting cozy in that booth together.” She turned around and stormed off, leaving Luke very confused.

“Okay?” He asked at her sudden shift of character before he left the shop himself to rejoin his band.

“How’d it go?” Reggie called out when Luke came sulking back.

At Luke’s silence, the band laughed out. Luke took a seat on the bench end of the bench next to Alex. “I’m a playboy.” He expected his friends to deny his claim, but they remained silent and only shot each other’s looks. He turned to them, giving them looks of disbelief. “You guys think I’m a-“

“No, we don’t!” Alex cut Luke before he could finish his sentence, but he knew his argument wasn’t going to be a strong one as Luke quirked a brow at him. “But you do go through girls like you go through guitar picks.”

“Why does this bother you all of a sudden?”

“Because Reginald,” Luke sighed out and leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms. “Y/N doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“And? Just move on to the next girl who smiles your way.” Bobby joked and made Reggie and Alex chuckle, but Luke just groaned.

“No, it’s not like that. Y/N, she’s different.”

“Different how? You guys had one ice cream for 30 minutes.” Alex said, not understanding why you were suddenly a big deal to Luke.

Luke tried to figure out what made you different, but he couldn’t think of anything that made sense. All he could think about was how your laugh and smile made him feel and how for the first time as a girl walked away from him, he chased after you.

“I don’t know.” Luke sighed out, turning to his friends for help, but it was obvious that they didn’t know either. “Whatever, let’s play.” He jumped up, wanting more than anything to get his mind off you.

---

Your house was quiet as you got back, exactly what you were expecting. A big house was nice, but when you’re all alone it’s a little, well, lonely. Dropping all your bags at the front door, you slipped over to the couch and plopped down on it. You couldn’t help as your thoughts moved onto Luke. It was fun to spend time with him today, but you couldn’t just be a hook-up to him, or anyone. You’ve had enough of that at your old school and once you moved back, you promised yourself you were done with those types of boys. But that didn’t make passing up Luke any easier.

You needed a second opinion or at least an opinion that wasn’t your own, so you called Julie.

“Hey, underachiever.” You chuckled into the call, happy Julie and Flynn allowed you into their nicknames, although yours was still in the works.

“Hey, good-for-nothing.” Julie chuckled back and you gasped through your laughs.

“Julie Molina, what have I ever done to you!” you faked sadness, hearing Julie’s laugh quiet only because she pulled the phone away from her ear.

“I was just trying it out, okay? Now, what’s up?”

You played with the hem of your shirt, trying to figure out what to tell her. “I hung out with Luke today.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me, J.” you huffed out. “I went shopping and spilled one of my bags and he showed up to help me pick my things up.”

“How heroic.” She joked and you chuckled. “That doesn’t really count as hanging out, Y/N.”

“No, but getting ice cream after and talking kind of does.” Julie fell silent and after a few moments, you sat up quickly, already knowing what she was thinking. “It wasn’t a date.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You thought it.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and relaxing back on the couch.

“Did you?”

It was your turn to be silent before you shook your head then realized she couldn’t see you. “I don’t think so. It’s like- I’m not interested in being one the girls he goes after, but…”

“But you had fun?”

“Does it make me a hypocrite if I say yes?”

“Just a little.” Julie and you laughed at her joke. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Ignore him?” You didn’t need to see Julie to know she was giving you an unimpressed look. “Seriously Julie! I’ll just ignore him until he loses interest.”

“And if he never loses interest?”

“Oh, he will. Guys like him always do.” That you were sure of.

Julie and you stayed on the call for a few more hours before your phone was about to die and you had to get up and plug it in, saying goodbye to her in the process. Once the call was over and your phone was plugged in next to the couch, you scrolled through the notifications you missed. There wasn’t a lot, and they were mostly boring ones, but one of them caught your attention.

Unknown Number

Hey, it’s Luke. Carrie gave me your number. Wanna talk?

You stared at the message for far longer than you’d care to admit before you tossed your phone on the table with a grunt and turned the tv on. Scrolling through the channels wasn’t as distracting as you hoped, especially when your phone started ringing. You expected it to be Julie, but when you picked it up to look, you were greeted with the same number you just read from Luke.

You hesitated before answering. “Calling? Really? Were you even sure this was my number?”

At the sound of your voice, Luke involuntarily smiled. “I hoped.”

“What did you want to talk about?” you said getting straight to the point.

There was a pause on Luke’s end before his laugh sounded in your ear. “You know, I don’t remember.”

“And why is that?”

“Ooh, that I can’t tell you.” Luke waited for you to respond, but when you didn’t, he knew you were waiting for him to continue because you weren’t letting him off that easily. “Okay, I don’t remember because the moment I heard your voice, I forgot.”

You snorted, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. “What a line, Luke!” you guffawed, always shocked by his nerve. “How many times have you used that one on a girl?”

Luke knew what it sounded like. “Never.” He answered honestly, hearing your laugh quiet a little as he continued. “Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing but I’m being honest.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I haven’t really given you a reason to.”

His words made you frown a little. “Should I believe you?”

“I want you to.”

You nodded, chewing your lip slightly as you tried to figure out what you were feeling. The butterflies that were starting to flutter in your stomach unnerved you, but if you were being honest, you kind of liked the feeling. “Well, how are you going to make me believe you?”

Luke was silent and if it wasn’t for the small shuffle of what you assumed was him moving in his room, you would’ve thought the call ended. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“What?”

“Dinner? You know, the meal you eat usually when the day is ending.”

“I know what dinner is, Luke. And no, I haven’t eaten yet. Why?” you glanced to the fridge, hoping your mother had at least gone grocery shopping for you, something you should’ve checked hours ago.

“Do you like pizza?”

---

Luke pulled up to your house half an hour later with your favorite pizza in his hands and a smile on his face as he knocked on the door.

“It’s creepy that you know where I live.” You told him as you opened the door and let him in out of the cold.

Luke frowned. “You gave me the address?”

You nodded and put your hands on your hips. “Yeah. It’s also creepy that I just willingly did that.” You mumbled to yourself, wondering how the hell you allowed Luke to just be in your house, bringing you food, no less. You pointed, “Living room is over there. I’ll get plates.”

Luke took the time to glance around your house when you were gone and he made his way slowly to the couch, stopping at the shelf of pictures. There were quite a few of when you were younger that made Luke smile involuntarily as he picked them up, studying them for a few minutes before putting them back. He was on his third picture before you came back in with plates and cans of soda.

“Oh, good. You found the pictures.” You huffed a laugh, peering over your shoulder to see he was staring at one of Julie, Flynn, and you almost a month before you moved. The three of you were in Julie’s studio and singing, Julie and you in front of mics as Flynn brought some of her home DJ equipment. You were positive your dad recorded it, but Ray managed to snap a picture during your performance.

“You sing?” Luke put the photo back and you hummed, turning to the couch and letting him follow you.

“Sing? No. Hold a tune? Still no.” you admitted, hearing Luke laugh at your joke as you both fell on the couch and you passed him a plate.

“Come on, tell me the truth.” Luke pushed and you grinned.

“Fine. Yes, I can sing. I just don’t.” You shrugged and grabbed a slice of pizza and taking a bite.

“Why not?” Luke asked as he copied you. You looked back over to the picture from across the room, a smile settled across your face as you told him. Luke sat and listened to every word of your story, smiling at the cute bits, laughing at the funny ones, frowning at the sad parts and when it was done, he asked questions prompting more stories from both of you. Once again, the conversation between the two of you was easy, almost like breathing in.

Some conversations were harder though and when Luke and you finished a fairly easy conversation, you knew it was time to breathe out. “Why’d you bring me pizza, Luke?”

His eyes stayed downcast as he picked at the pizza and gulped. “You were right.” You raised a brow. “I do flirt with every girl.”

“Did you not know this?”

“No, No. I did.” He admitted and he finally looked up at you who was watching him carefully. “I guess I just never cared enough to do anything about it until now.”

“What changed?” You asked and before Luke could answer, you held a hand up. “And don’t say it’s because you met me. That’s cheesier than this pizza.” You held up the pizza, watching the melted cheese slowly move off before you stopped it, not wanting to ruin your slice.

Luke just chuckled at you, letting his brows raise momentarily as he nodded. “What if it was you?”

“Then I’d say you’re full of it.”

He licked his lips, an action of habit that pulled your eyes down before you made yourself look away. Luke smirked at you. “I saw that.”

You scoffed with a small smile. “Am I supposed to care? Back to the question.”

Luke leaned back on the couch, throwing his arm on the couch. “You are really not like other girls, are you?”

“Because I’m not falling at your feet?”

“Because you’ve got me falling at yours.” Your eyes stayed staring into his for what felt like an eternity. A part of you doubted he was genuine, that this was just another line or move that he used on girls like you and they all fell for it. You would be damned if you did as well. Another part of you looked past the doubt, remembering how much fun you and Luke had on your “date” at the ice cream shop. You wanted to believe him.

“What do you want out of this?” you gestured lazily between the two of you as you turned on the couch to face him. Luke shifted to do the same.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re so lucky you’re good-looking because you are really not good at this talking thing. It’s amazing you’ve managed to seduce half the school.”

“I don’t seduce them!”

“Oh, yeah and I totally believe you.” You pretended to be genuine, and Luke caught on, knowing you were mocking him as he chuckled.

“So, you think I’m good-looking?”

You rolled your eyes with a groan, falling back on the couch enough to grab a pillow to bury your face in. “That’s what you got out of that conversation? How does your ego even fit in your body?”

“Eh, it’s a tight fit.” He joked and you couldn’t help the laugh that broke free before you stopped it, finding it impossible to wipe the smile off your help. Luke leaned forward and pulled the pillow out of your hands before pulling you up, and you found yourselves closer than you had ever been. Your breath stilled as his eyes found yours.

There had never been a time in Luke’s life where he felt what he was now. He’d been this close to many people before, but none of them caused his heart to flutter or his hands to sweat. None of them knew how to make him laugh with just a look or smile just by hearing their voice. None of them were like you. That’s what made you special and if Alex asked him again what made you different than all the rest, that’s what he would tell him. He’d tell him that one day, he could imagine himself falling in love with you.

His eyes fell to your separated lips, moving slowly with each breath you took. Luke’s hand cupped your face gently, cradling it in your hand as his thumb ghosted over your lips. His touch sent shivers down your spine in the perfect way as he pulled his eyes back up to look into yours. You knew it was probably a bad idea- hell, it definitely was a bad idea, but you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him so badly that you found yourself nodding softly before leaning in. Luke reacted quickly, his hand slipping off your face to the back of your neck, tangling in the lower section of your hair as he pulled you close. Both of your eyes closed as Luke and molded into each other. You grabbed his shirt, fisting it in your hands as Luke’s arm wrapped around you. You let out a moan against his lips as he pulled you into his lap and the action allowed him to deepen the kiss, an improvement you happily accepted.

It wasn’t until your hand started to move down Luke’s shirt before he pulled away, surprising you both. You were breathing a little heavier now, as was Luke, and when you realized you were still on his lap, you got off. The magical trance of the kiss was now broken as you pushed yourself as far as you could on the couch.

Luke and you stayed silent and refused to look at each other. You scolded yourself in your mind, wondering how you allowed yourself to kiss him. You didn’t know why he pulled away and while you worked up the courage to ask him, you couldn’t help but guess why. Maybe he didn’t like the kiss? You did, you really did, but that didn’t mean he did. Maybe he was no longer interested? If that was the case, he would’ve left the moment you got off him. Maybe you were a bad kisser? Nah, you definitely had people that would’ve told you.

In Luke’s mind, he was freaking out. For the first time when he was kissing someone, he wasn’t thinking about just getting them in bed. He was thinking all about you. He thought about the way you felt pressed against him and so close that he could even smell the shampoo you used. He thought about how he could feel your smile against his lips and how he would’ve killed to always feel it just like that.

“I have a feeling your nights don’t usually go that way.” You broke the silence, making Luke’s eyes shoot to yours before he quickly looked away in embarrassment, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“Um,” He began before gulping, “yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Or do you wanna go home and pretend this never happened and tomorrow I get to watch as you flirt with another girl? You ignored the thought in your head and waited for Luke to answer.

Finally, he shook his head. “No, I um, I think I should probably…” he trailed off and your heart sunk a little as he pointed to the door. He stood up before you could even say anything and he collected his things, leaving you on the couch as he started toward the door. “I’ll um, I’ll see you tomorrow!” he called out before he rounded the corner and a few seconds later, you could hear the door close.

You were left there in a daze, trying to figure out if the last few minutes really just happened. You kissed Luke “playboy” Patterson and he literally ran away.

This… This was a new low.

---

Luke sat in his bed that night staring at the ceiling and waiting for a sleep that would never come, at least, not when you occupied every thought in his head. After the first hour of laying there, he grabbed his phone. Your contact filled the screen as he looked at it, wanting to call you and tell you exactly why he ran out tonight, but he couldn’t do it. Instead, he called the one person who warned him how bad this whole thing would turn out to be.

“It is 2 am, you better be dying or dead to call me this late.” He heard Carrie’s sleepy voice through the phone as he glanced at the clock. He didn’t realize he stayed at your place that long.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“You don’t sound dead.” Carrie mumbled and yawned into the phone as Luke tried to figure out what he would say to his tired friend.

“I kissed Y/N.”

There was complete silence from Carrie, not even the shuffling that Luke could faintly hear a second ago from her trying to get comfortable. “Damn.” She said softly. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Luke. And I definitely didn’t think Y/N was going to be one of your hook-ups.”

“We didn’t- I only kissed her.” Luke cursed his stutter as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple.

“You didn’t hook-up? Then what happened after you kissed?” Luke froze, remembering the exact look on your face as he scrambled out of your house.

“I left.”

“You left?”

“Carrie, I ran out of her house.” Luke groaned. “I literally stopped us mid-kiss and then a minute later ran out.”

Carrie was silent again and Luke was certain she was trying to process how stupid he was. “Why would you do that?”

“I… have no idea.” Luke admitted. He didn’t know what possessed him to run out like that. The whole way home, all he could think about was how he wanted to continue kissing you or at least tell you how he felt, not run out of there and leave you with no clue.

“Well, if you didn’t hook-up with her tonight, then I think you just lost your chance.”

Her words made him pause. “Carrie?” He heard her hum in response. “I don’t think I want to just hook-up with Y/N.” There was another pause after his words, and he knew Carrie was waiting for him to elaborate. “I think I really like her.”

“Wow. That’s deep.”

He groaned at Carrie before hearing her laugh at him. “You’re not funny, Care.”

“Tell her how you feel, Luke. If you really actually like her, then make sure she knows you’re not just looking for a hook-up.”

---

Heading into school the next day, you were dreading seeing Luke. You didn’t know what to say to him or if he would even talk to you and with each passing minute, you felt a little less worried. That is, until you walked into homeroom at the end of the day to see Luke watching the door like a hawk. You tried to ignore him as you walked to your desk and plopped into the seat next to Julie who gave you a worried look.

“Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Not really.” You mumbled, scooting your chair closer to her, and in a whisper, you told her everything that happened last night after you hung up the phone with her. Julie’s jaw was on the floor by the time you told her Luke ran out.

“I can’t believe it!” She whisper-shouted and you sighed in relief.

“I know! I couldn’t believe he ran out either!”

“No!” You furrowed your brows. “I can’t believe you kissed Luke and you didn’t call me right away!”

“J, it was like after midnight and I was a little embarrassed and traumatized that he literally left me there.” You spoke slowly, hoping she would help you figure out how to get over these feelings that keep you up all night.

Before she could say anything, she felt a tap on her shoulder and the two of you looked up to see Luke smiling uncomfortably at her. “Mind if I sit there?” He pointed to her seat. She looked to you for permission and after a few seconds of crazy glares being exchanged, Julie let Luke take her spot.

You turned to face forward as he sat down and looked at the side of your face, you waited for him to speak up. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Which part? The kiss or-“

“No, no, the running out part.” Luke cut you off before you could finish, and you nodded awkwardly. “That was stupid.”

“Yeah, a little bit.” You told him and Luke’s stomach fell when he saw the way you clenched your jaw, obviously upset about the situation. “Look, I don’t know what happened and I don’t know why we kissed, but-“

“I like you.” Your breath stopped at his interruption of rushed words, making you very confused about what was happening. Luke quickly picked up on it as he tried to explain. “I got scared last night because I was figuring out that I really, really like you and when we kissed, I just shut off, I guess.”

“So, you left?”

“Well, it was easier than having this conversation when all I could think about was kissing you again.” When you let out a laugh, however small it was, Luke was beginning to think things could be looking up. “I’m really sorry for everything last night.”

“Don’t be sorry for everything.” You told him, reaching forward to grab his hand. Luke’s heart skipped a beat at the warmth of your touch as he watched your hands met and he slowly turned his over so he could hold yours. “The pizza was really good.” It was Luke who let out an amused laugh this time as he shook his head and let his hair drape over his face. You joined him in laughing, feeling your cheeks heat a little. “I guess the kiss was… pretty good too.”

“Pretty good?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You deadpanned and he put his hands up in the air before taking yours again.

“Would you let me take you out on a date?” Luke asked after a beat of silence, using the courage he’s accumulated after a night of Carrie hyping him up over the phone.

You smirked at him. “Only as friends?”

Luke shook his head. “Not a chance. I meant a real date, hopefully, one that would be followed by a second, then a third, a fourth, then-“

“Woah!” You laughed out and Luke joined you. “Slow down there, Patterson. Let’s just get through one, okay?”

He nodded. “Deal. So, what do you say? Will you go on a date with me?”

You smiled but were reluctant. “What about all the other girls in the school? You’d give them up?”

“They can find their own choice of dates. I’ve got mine right in front of me.” You bit your tongue, trying not to smile as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re still as cheesy as ever,” Luke shrugged, he didn’t mind being cheesy if he got to see your smile come from it, “but it looks like you’ve got a date tonight.”

#Luke Patterson x reader #Luke Patterson imagine #Luke Patterson AU #Luke Patterson #Jatp #Jatp x reader #Jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms #Julie and the phantoms imagine #Julie and the Phantoms au #Jatp au #Julie and the Phantoms x reader #Only as friends

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

Note

fic request because i am d e s p e r a t e : tarlos carlos whump with supportive gabriel reyes ??? if you’re down to write him that is. i love ur work n ur whump n i think u would write a p good gabe. 🥰

holly’s august extravaganza day 1: against all odds (we're still here)

i'm always down to write gabriel! thanks for the prompt trick, i hope you like it!

ao3 | 2k | car accidents, whump, major character injury, angst with a happy ending

“I told you we should have brought the car.”

Carlos scowls over at TK, shifting one of the many bags he’s carrying higher on his arm. It cuts painfully into his skin, his good mood from earlier long since soured. The knowledge that TK is, of course, right isn’t exactly helping matters.

“In my defence,” he starts, for probably the fifth or sixth time, “when we texted your dad to see if he wanted us to pick up anything from the store, I wasn’t expecting a full list.”

“We could have told him no.”

“TK, he’s your dad and we are literally crashing his home right now. I’m not gonna tell him no.”

TK opens his mouth, presumably to retort with a comment about how his dad loves Carlos and loves having them around. Both of which are things Carlos knows perfectly well, thanks, but he’s still not interested in testing it by refusing to get Owen’s kale chips or that specific brand of shampoo which took half an hour—and two stores—to track down.

Whatever TK was about to say is abandoned when one of his own bags slips out of his grasp and falls to the ground with a depressing thud. It bursts open—because why wouldn’t it—and spills their purchases across the sidewalk. The only solace is that nothing breaks, but that’s where the good news begins and ends; Carlos’s eyes track a can as it rolls down the street and into the gutter, landing in a puddle of dirty water. TK looks forlornly between the dropped bag and those still balanced on his arms, then heaves a long-suffering sigh and crouches awkwardly, easing the other bags down as carefully as he can manage.

“Call an Uber,” he grumbles. “We are not walking home like this.”

On that point, they’re in agreement. Carlos spares himself a moment of idle amusement at TK’s predicament before beginning the arduous task of extracting his phone from his pocket without dropping any of his own shopping.

He’ll hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

Oh my god!

Someone call 911!

Are they even alive?

Just hold on, son, you’re going to be just fine.

Beeping.

Carlos frowns, slowly blinking his heavy eyelids open. It takes a minute to register his surroundings for what they are—a hospital room—and a further minute to notice the presence at his side. It’s his father, looking exhausted, turning his cowboy hat in his hands as he stares at the floor.

“Dad?” he croaks, wincing at the soreness in his throat. “What happened?”

His father’s head jerks up, his eyes going wide as he sees Carlos awake. “Mijo. It’s good to see you awake.”

“Dad, why am I here? What happened?”

He sighs, reaching out to pat Carlos’s arm. “There was an accident,” he explains. “A drunk driver lost control of his car and mounted the curb right where you boys were standing. He was speeding, so he hit you pretty hard. Your foot was crushed under a wheel, you have a fractured wrist, and you bumped your head when you fell so you probably have a concussion. The doctors say you should heal just fine, though, gracias a Dios.”

Carlos lifts his head to look down at his body, only just registering the casts on his arm and foot. There’s a dull ache radiating through his entire body and his head is pounding in time with his heartbeat, but he’s alive and he’ll heal. He should be happy about that, but the only thing occupying his mind is his dad’s silence on TK.

“What about TK?” he asks, part of him dreading the answer. “I remember him pushing me; is he okay?”

“He’s…” His dad hesitates, sending a cold slither of fear down Carlos’s spine. “Alive.”

Carlos stares, the beginnings of panic stealing his breath. “What does that mean?”

His father blows out a long breath. “It means you were right,” he says, meeting Carlos’s eyes. “He did push you, so he took the brunt of the hit. He suffered a serious open pelvic fracture and broken ribs, which punctured his lung. Last I heard, they managed to fix him up and they’re not expecting any further complications, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

“He hasn’t woken up?”

“Not yet. He will, you’ll see.”

“I want to see him.”

And Carlos knows what the answer will be to that—a resounding no. He also knows that he won’t be able to argue; his father is incredibly stubborn, and when he digs his heels in, there’s no moving him. But he needs to at least try—he’s not going to stop worrying about TK until he sees him, and probably not for a long time after that.

His dad sighs and fixes him with a firm look. “Carlitos, you and I both know that’s out of the question,” he says. “You’ve only just woken up, you need to give yourself time to heal before exerting your body even more. Besides, he’s in good hands and Owen is with him, so we’ll know as soon as there’s any change.”

“Joder, Papá, I know all that,” Carlos cries, frustrated, barely able to refrain from throwing his head back on the pillow. “I just hate that he’s here, hurt, and I can’t even see him.”

“Lo sé,” His dad smiles gently, something that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but really only gets on Carlos’s nerves. “Escúchame, hijo. Descansa. Cúrate. Then you can focus on TK.”

It’s easier said than done and his father knows it, but Carlos has no choice. The conversation is effectively put to an end by his dad reaching over and pressing the call button next to the bed. A nurse comes in and quickly sets about checking his vitals and asking enough questions to make Carlos’s head spin. His probable concussion becomes definite, but otherwise he’s in good shape, all things considered.

He can’t help but wish he weren’t.

Two days later, Carlos is deemed fit to be discharged, providing he has someone to help him and providing he agrees to rest and not do anything even close to strenuous. TK is also awake now but, according to Owen, he’ll be kept in the hospital for at least another week. The break to his pelvis was bad, so he’ll need a wheelchair for a while even after discharge, and his refusal to take strong painkillers means his recovery is going to be long and painful.

Carlos is itching to see him. It’s been torture cooped up in his room without knowing how TK was doing—there’s only so much relief messages passed through their fathers can bring. It had only been his father’s stern and steady presence that had kept him in that bed when he felt like he was losing his mind with worry.

But now, finally, he’s being wheeled into TK’s room and helped onto the chair next to the bed. Owen stands off to the side, watching the two of them with a mixture of affection and sadness in his gaze, and his dad hovers behind him, but Carlos only has eyes for TK.

He looks incredibly tired, but he attempts a smile when he rolls his head to look at Carlos, extending his hand out across the distance between them.

“Hey, Ty,” Carlos says softly, taking TK’s hand in his good one. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Not sure if I’ve been worse. I think this might just beat getting shot to that title.”

“That’s not funny.”

TK just hums, his eyes drifting closed for a second. “Maybe not.”

“Why did you push me?”

TK’s eyes fly open at the question, confusion overtaking his expression as he stares at Carlos. He moves as if to sit upright before groaning in pain, his face screwing up. Carlos reaches out for him, but he’s beaten to it by his father, who places a reassuring hand on TK’s shoulder.

“Take it easy, son,” he says gently. “Don’t move too much.”

“I hate this,” TK mutters, his body relaxing bit by bit. His gaze is still clouded when he looks back over at Carlos, but he manages a soft smile all the same. “I pushed you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. The car would have hit me either way; I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to get you out of the way in time.”

Carlos blinks at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sorry?” he asks, disbelief colouring his tone. “Ty, you’re in the hospital, seriously injured, because you chose to save me instead of yourself. Why would you do that?”

“You know why.”

Carlos does; of course he does, but it’s not enough to assuage the guilt still bubbling in his stomach at the sight of TK in the bed.

TK sighs, squeezing his hand. “You would have done the same for me,” he points out. “We both know you would have, so don’t you dare ask me to apologise for my choices.”

“I know. I won’t.” Carlos closes his eyes, deflating a little. “I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“And I hate seeing you hurt, so maybe you can do us both a favour and go home. I’ll be fine.”

Carlos must need his hearing tested, because there’s no way TK just said that. There’s no way his boyfriend told him to leave right after calling him out for hypocrisy. Except apparently he did, because he’s trying to disentangle their hands, and Carlos is not having that.

He grips onto TK even tighter and glares at him. “TK, if you think I’m leaving you here—”

“Carlos,” TK interrupts quietly. “I get it. But, babe, you need to rest and heal, and you can’t do either of those things sitting here.”

“Watch me.”

“No.” TK shifts his gaze over Carlos’s shoulder, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “Mr Reyes, can you make sure he rests?”

His dad laughs, leaning over to pat TK’s shoulder. “Of course. I’m sure once his mother sees him, she won’t let him out of her sight for a week anyway.”

TK grins. “Good to know.” He yawns and resettles himself slightly in the bed, his eyes fluttering shut. “Carlos, if you’re still here when I next open my eyes, I’m not kissing you for a month.”

“You shouldn’t make threats you know you can’t follow through with.”

“Don’t make me make it two.”

Despite himself, Carlos laughs. He leans over and presses a lingering kiss to TK’s temple, then stands as well as he’s able, leaning on his dad for support. “Alright, I’m going. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

TK already sounds half-asleep when he mumbles, “Love you too,” back, and Carlos can’t even be embarrassed by how ridiculously smitten he must look, even though he’s in front of both their fathers.

He allows his dad to move him back to the wheelchair and says a quick goodbye to Owen, keeping his eyes on TK for as long as he can. Just as they reach the door, he catches TK’s eyes opening to slivers, obviously checking to see if Carlos is actually leaving. Carlos shakes his head at him, causing TK to flush at the knowledge he’s been caught. His eyes slam shut again, his tongue poking out childishly, and Carlos laughs, a lightness settling in his heart even as TK’s room disappears from view.

It’s going to be a long few months for the both of them, but they have family behind them to help them get through it.

And they have each other. Which, given everything, Carlos thinks is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

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scuttling · 3 years ago

Text

(You Want To) Make a Memory

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Word Count: 19,858 Chapters: 5 of 5 Complete Tags: 18+, NSFW, Amnesia, Anxiety attacks, Sex dreams, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Praise kink, Unprotected sex, Vaginal fingering, Dirty talk, Choking, Biting, Hickies, Oral sex, Making love, Angst and feels, Shower sex, Size kink Summary: Sophie gets amnesia while working a case and forgets everything from the last two years: her friends, her job at the BAU, and her boyfriend, Aaron. Note: This is a reformatted, previously published work. :)

Link to AO3 or read Chapter 1 below!

The thing Sophie finds most complicated about her work at the BAU is that it’s their job to predict the unpredictable. Yes, they are all highly educated, knowledgeable profilers, with decades of experience between them, and human behavior typically follows patterns that are easily discernible if you have the right training. But even armed with all the information, all the statistics, all the data, there’s one thing they can never really know for certain: what a desperate person will do in the heat of the moment.

The unsub they are looking for is a white male, aged 25-35, who lives alone, has a steady daylight job, drives a red pickup truck, and has a problem with older female authority figures. Sophie could go on and on about this particular type of unsub—she could tell you where he shops, how he spends his evenings, his favorite sport/team/player, probably even what he’ll eat for dinner tonight—but there’s no way she can know how he’ll react to the FBI at his door, or the consequences his actions will have.

The team is canvassing the neighborhood they believe the unsub resides in, and she and Spencer were assigned the four hundred block; they each take a separate side of the street, and work their way down house by house trying to find someone who fits the profile, or knows someone who does.

“Any luck?” Sophie asks Spencer when they meet back up at the end of the the block. He grimaces, uncertain.

“There was one guy, but…” She gestures toward the SUV and they walk toward it together.

“What happened? Profile didn’t fit?”

“He was the right demographic, the vehicle fit, but he wasn’t disorganized. In fact, his home looked like it belonged in a catalog: photos on the walls, decorative items, nothing out of place.” She frowns a little, because it’s clear this guy has raised some red flags for her partner, and she trusts his intuition when it comes to stuff like this.

“And he lives alone?” she asks, confirming. That’s a pretty big part of the profile, considering what he does to the victims. He nods.

“Yes, no indication of a girlfriend or wife living there.” Sophie blows out a breath, leans against the side of the SUV.

“Okay, let’s brainstorm. Maybe... he hires a housekeeper.” Spencer shrugs.

“He didn’t seem like the type, but I guess it’s possible.”

“Alright, well… Okay, so our profile is of a man who kills older women because he has an issue with an older woman who is an authority figure in his life. We thought maybe his boss, but what if it’s his mother?” she asks, face lighting up a little. This theory makes more sense, actually. “What if she comes over while he’s at work, cleans the place up, redecorates, just takes complete control of his life, even his private space, and he loses it?” He nods enthusiastically.

“That is extremely more likely. Now that I think of it, all the photos were of him and an older woman who could be his mother.” Sophie pulls out her phone, gestures over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Let’s head back there; Hotch and JJ are just around the corner, I’ll let them know we might need backup. 412?”

“Yeah—hey, that’s the truck. That’s the truck,” he says with more urgency, pointing down the street at a rapidly approaching red pickup truck that matches the description of the unsub’s. Shit.

“Okay, get in the car, call Hotch,” she instructs, and they both barely make it in before the truck rear-ends the SUV on the driver's side; Sophie’s head hits off the steering wheel hard, and the car rocks, and she looks over at Spencer, a little disoriented, to make sure he’s okay. He’s holding his wrist, like maybe he hurt it bracing himself.

When she gets her bearings, she starts the car, throws it into reverse, ready to apply a little force and potentially keep him from striking again, but he backs up, speeds up, and cuts the wheel to go around them, striking her door and driving past. It’s then that another SUV cuts him off, and Hotch and JJ jump out, guns drawn; the unsub raises his hands, surrenders, and it’s over as quickly as it began.

“Sophie?” She can hear her name, but her head is swimming. She touches the cut above her temple, pulls back a hand covered in blood, but she knows head injuries bleed heavily, so she’s not worried. She’s more worried that she can’t tell where that voice is coming from. It’s like she’s in a fun house, sounds echoing from all sides. “Sophie, can you hear me?” She hums in response.

Kind hands are on her face, turning it toward the sun, and she scrunches her eyes at the brightness. She knows the hands are trying to help, but her head already hurts, and the light isn’t doing her any favors.

“Gotta… get up,” she mumbles, and the hands hold her waist, help her out of the car. Her left foot hurts when she puts her weight down on it, and she almost folds, but the hands hold her up, and she thinks she smiles.

“Reid—is she okay?” That voice is a voice that makes her want to answer immediately, even if her brain hasn’t quite caught up. She stumbles over her words.

“‘M okay. Just my… head.” A different pair of hands hold her up, and her brain is working enough to recognize that she loves the smell of the person attached to the hands. They are serious hands, and one of them sweeps gently over her face.

“Can you open your eyes for me, baby, please?” that good voice asks, and she wants to do anything the voice asks, but her eyes really hurt. She must say that out loud, because the voice says softly, “That’s alright, don’t strain yourself. Medics on the way. You’re going to be fine.”

“Tell him…” She is placed back in the car, can feel the softness of the seat against her back, and it’s nice. “Tell him that was mean… and not to do it again.” She feels lips on her face, turns toward them, sighs when they brush over hers. “Mmm. Or I’m going to… tell his mother.” When Sophie wakes up, she feels like she’s been repeatedly punched in the head, thrown down a flight of stairs, and then run over by a truck, so, naturally, she groans. She doesn’t dare open her eyes at first, can already see the fluorescents flickering through her eyelids, but her mouth is dry, and since she knows she must be in a hospital, she knows that there’s a little plastic pitcher of water somewhere within her reach.

Cautiously, she cracks one eye, finds the pitcher and a kind looking woman with fair skin and dark bangs staring back at her.

“You’re awake!” she whispers excitedly, and she leans forward for a hug, which Sophie does not return, because she doesn’t know the woman. The woman must feel the tension in Sophie’s body as she sits, arms at her sides, and waits for the hug to end, because she pulls back, concerned. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she begins, unsure of how to put this politely. Her voice is dry, rough, and the woman pours her a glass of water, which she takes gratefully. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t… Do I know you?” Her face falls, and she looks confused, and then abruptly worried.

“My name is Emily. Prentiss. Does that ring a bell?” Sophie thinks back, tries to navigate around the pounding in her temples, and ultimately shakes her head.

“No, I’m sorry. And I mean no disrespect—I meet a lot of people for work, so sometimes it’s hard to keep track.”

“Where do you work?”

“I work for the FBI. Intelligence.” Sophie takes in the woman’s outfit—black turtleneck, gray pants, boots, government issued handgun—and tilts her head curiously. “And you?”

“FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She pulls her bag closer on the seat beside her, pulls out her credentials, lets Sophie hold them. “Have you heard of it?”

“Sure, of course. I have an interview there next week, actually.” She hands back the badge with a smile. “Small world. Uh, do you think that what happened to me occurred because of a crime, or something? Is that why you’re here?"

Agent Prentiss gives her a sad smile, then stands, pulling out her cell phone. “You know, we’re really not sure what’s going on. Excuse me for one moment, I need to make a call. I’ll get your doctor while I’m out there.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Sophie calls as she heads out of the room, and she pours another glass of water.

When the agent returns with the doctor, she looks tenser, but the doctor just shoots her a kind smile. “Hello, Sophie. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

“Thank you; I’m glad to be awake. How long have I been out?”

“About two days. You were in a car accident, do you remember that?” She’d catalogued her injuries while alone—laceration to the head, some pain and swelling there; aching wrist, sore but unbroken; bruised ankle, tender but okay to put pressure on—and they are consistent with a car accident, but she shakes her head.

“No, ma’am, I don’t remember.” The doctor frowns, an expression the agent behind her mirrors.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“Um.” She closes her eyes, thinks hard for a moment, but it hurts her eyes. “I was driving home from work, I think? Or about to leave for the day. It’s kind of blurry.”

“That’s alright, don’t press too hard. It should come back to you in no time.” She steps around the bed to pull her chart off the wall, skims it briefly. “We’re going to have to run some scans; I’ll give you a moment with Agent Prentiss, and then I’ll send someone in to take you down to the lab, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you, doctor.” The woman smiles and walks out of the room, leaving her with the clearly unhappy agent. “Is everything okay, Agent Prentiss? You look about as bad as I feel.” The woman sighs, drops back down into her seat, folds her hands in her lap.

“The doctor believes you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia. You don’t remember some things you should remember. Quite a bit of time.” Her throat goes dry again, her heart beats rapidly in her chest.

“That’s not possible. I remember driving home from work… or, getting in the car to drive home from work, just the other day.” She shakes her head like she’s not sure what to say.

“I know, Sophie, but that’s not a recent memory. You don’t work at the Grant building anymore.”

“What do you mean? I’m the Intelligence liaison. I mean, I applied for the BAU job…” She’s wanted to work there since she found out about it, to put her degrees to good use; to get an interview is almost unheard of, everyone told her, but she made the cut, even bought a new suit to wear. It’s still hanging in her closet.

“And you got it,” Prentiss says gently, reaching forward to take her hand. “You and I have been working together at the BAU for almost two years.”

Sophie can’t be blamed, she doesn’t think, when she leans over, reaches for the wastebasket, and promptly vomits. “So I’m a profiler, and I’ve been one for two years. I work with you and we’re friends,” Sophie repeats as a bit of a recap. Prentiss nods.

“Yep. Those who profile serial killers together, stick together.” She says it with a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.

“Wow. Okay. I’m really sorry I don’t remember you.” She shrugs it off, and Sophie sighs. “Any other major life events I should know about? Did I get a cat, go vegan?”

“You don’t have time for a pet, and you like cheese too much,” Prentiss jokes, but that does sound like something she’d say. Her face gets serious after that, and she even looks nervous. It makes Sophie nervous, too. “You have a boyfriend.”

That raises her eyebrows.

“I have a boyfriend.” She smiles softly, nods.

“Yes. He’s… it’s funny, because he’s actually... our boss.” Sophie blanches. Talk about a close-knit group.

“I’m sleeping with my boss? That is not like me.” She barely sleeps with anyone, too busy focusing on her career and not that into one-night-stands, but her boss of all people? That’s just plain stupid.

“It’s really not like that, trust me. You two are in love.” Okay, she’s heard enough. Maybe Prentiss is a prankster, playing some wildly hilarious joke on her amnesiac pal.

“I’m in love. Did I actually say that?” She knows herself pretty well, flaws and all, and she’s been a vehement skeptic when it comes to love for… god, as long as she can remember—no pun intended. Prentiss nods, looks very serious.

“Yes, I’ve heard you say it many, many times. You two live together.”

“We live together? For how long?” This can’t be right; one of the things she values most is her privacy, her solitude. She lives a quiet, simple life, aside from being an FBI agent, and she likes it that way.

“About six months,” she answers carefully.

“We’ve lived together for six months? How long have we been dating?” Her voice sounds a little shrill even to her own ears. Prentiss is being very cool about it all, doesn’t so much as blink.

“It’s a year next week, actually. He’s been trying to come up with a surprise for your anniversary.” Sophie feels a little lightheaded.

“Anniversary. Fuck.” She squeezes her eyes shut, which hurts, opens them only so the pain will go away. She knows they’re teary, can’t help it, but she doesn’t want Prentiss to see her like this. She hates being vulnerable, always has. “I can’t remember two years of my life. I can’t remember my own boyfriend, my own job. My friends.”

“I can tell you about them, if you want,” she offers cautiously. “The doctor said it could help, but if you feel like it’s too much, let me know.”

Sophie nods carefully. She wants to know, she needs to know.

Prentiss—Emily—is so genuinely kind. She sits there for an hour, tells Sophie about work, and their team—their friends, because the group is very tight, gets together for dinner and drinks, and they all support each other’s non-bureau endeavors, and she feels so sad that she can’t remember them, can’t recall anything Emily is rattling off so easily it’s like she doesn’t even have to think about it.

She talks about some tough cases they’ve worked on, and how they always end with a cookout or a family dinner so they can remember why they do the hard things, why they keep fighting. She talks about people they’ve helped, saved, brought comfort to. She talks about flights home on the jet, how sometimes they sit in quiet, companionable silence and other times it’s all teasing and laughter and the good things in life.

Then she starts talking about Aaron—the boss/boyfriend—and Sophie does cry, a couple of tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. She’d never imagined in her life that she would be as loved as she is, if Emily’s stories are true, and the fact that she can’t remember any of it is like a knife to the gut. She wants to scream, to make someone pay for what she’s missing, but she knows none of that will bring her memory back, so she dials back the rage as quickly as it came—huh, that’s new.

Usually, her particular brand of anxiety attack would happen right about now, always worse when she’s afraid or angry. She anticipates tightening in her chest, shortness of breath, ringing in her ears that takes forever to go away, but it doesn’t come. She’s able to calm herself with a deep breath, and despite the fact that the rest of her life is a dumpster fire right now, this feels kind of good. It feels like progress, not a story told through someone else’s eyes, but a tangible feeling she can hold onto and think, I am a different version of Sophie than I was two years ago. A better version, maybe. But at least different. That, above everything else, makes it real.

A nurse walks in to take Sophie down for scans, and Emily just smiles, a bit sadly, and tells her she’ll be there waiting when she returns.

It’s a small comfort, something she holds onto as she’s taken down to the lab. When Sophie makes it back to her room, Emily is waiting there as promised, and she has a duffle bag sitting on the bed. “The doctor says you can go home while they wait for the scans,” she says with a smile; she probably thinks it will make Sophie happy, and it does, but the idea of going to a home she’s never been to is a little unsettling. Still, it’s nice to know there are people who care about her who will help her through it, that she’s not alone. That’s not something Sophie of two years ago would have been able to count on.

She smiles back, and Emily helps her change into clothes that somehow still smell like the hospital, but it feels better to be dressed and not stuck in the flimsy hospital gown that always makes you feel weaker and sicker, more injured than you really are.

She hears a voice from out in the hall, a voice that catches her attention immediately, and she walks over to the door, peeks her head out to see if she can find the man it belongs to.

She does, and he is almost too good-looking to be real. Somehow, she both instinctively knows that this man is Aaron, and can’t see how that could possibly be true.

“Emily. Is that Aaron?” she asks to confirm, pointing to the tall, serious-looking, frankly smoldering hot man having a conversation with her doctor at the end of the hall. She peeks her head out the door too, looks toward him with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s him. Do you remember him?” Her tone is guarded but hopeful, and Sophie sighs.

Remember him, no, not in the way she means, but every cell in her body feels alive and on fire just from catching a glimpse of his face, so she’s pretty sure Emily is right and she’s crazy in love with him. And his suit. Who looks that good in a suit?

Her boyfriend, apparently. Who she lives with. Who she’s been with for a year. Her mind is still a little blown.

“I don’t recall any memories of him,” she whispers, as if he can hear her from down the hall, “but, uh. I think my body remembers him.” Emily looks at her, eyebrow quirked, and she blushes. “Or, you know. Parts of it.”

Realization dawns, and Emily grins. “Okay yeah, that tracks. You two are kind of all over each other. It’s an intense vibe.” Sophie takes a moment to imagine that, what it would be like to be in a relationship with this man.

He looks intense, which can be good or bad, with the kind of mouth you could kiss forever, smile against. He’s taller than her by about a foot, which thrills her, and broad, as evidenced by the jacket stretched across his shoulders, which really thrills her. He’s older, maybe early forties, which she doesn’t feel particularly strongly about one way or another, with gorgeous dark hair and eyes, and when he shakes hands with the doctor, silver wrist watch gleaming under the fluorescent lights, her mouth practically waters.

“Earth to Sophie. You’ve got a little drool, there,” Emily teases, pointing to her own mouth, and Sophie groans.

“You didn’t prepare me. You didn't tell me he was hot.” Aaron turns away from the doctor, starts walking down the hall toward her room, and she ducks out of the doorframe, Emily following suit. She puts a hand to her forehead, not in physical pain, but mental pain for sure. “God, this is going to be so awkward. I’ve got a total lady boner for the guy I’m in love with that I can’t even remember.”

“It might be a little awkward at first, but you guys are sweet together. He’s going to be so caring and understanding, give you all the time you need.” She puts her hands on Sophie’s arms, grounding her. “We’re going to focus on trying to get your memories back, but the doctor said you shouldn’t stress.”

“That’s easy for her to say,” she mutters, crossing her arms, “she didn’t forget her big sexy boyfriend.” She hears a soft chuckle from behind her and instantly flushes, which makes Emily grin.

“Sophie, this is Aaron.” She physically turns her, and Aaron is smiling gently, which makes him look even better than when he was serious and expressionless. Her heart thrums in her chest.

“Hi. I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I want to.” She sticks out her hand for a shake, feels dumb instantly, but he takes it anyway, holds it for a moment. His hand is rough, so much bigger than hers, and part of her hopes he never lets go.

“That’s alright. Dr. Bracken is confident you’ll recover all of your memories in time. She’s given me some instruction on ways we can try to jog your memory, but no stress, like Emily said.”

“I guess we’re not considering the fact that losing two years of your life is a little stressful,” she counters, and he laughs again.

“You haven’t lost anything. Just misplaced them for a while.” He steps toward her, like he wants to touch her, comfort her maybe, but freezes, thinks better of it. She’s torn between wanting to get to know him better first and wanting to jump into his arms immediately, so she decides to let him set the pace. “So… Do you want to come home with me?” His voice is soft, hopeful, matching his eyes. “Garcia—our friend, another coworker of ours—has offered to put you up at her place if you’re not comfortable with that, so no worries either way. You have a place to go.”

Her stomach sinks a little at the thought of being anywhere but home, even though she has no idea where that is, and she looks back at Emily, who smiles encouragingly.

“I think I want to go home,” she decides after a moment, and she turns back to look at Aaron. “Is that okay with you?” He nods seriously.

“Yes, of course. I want you home with me. I just wanted you to know you had other options.” Emily slips past her, a hand on her elbow, and finishes gathering up her belongings while they talk. “The rest of the team is going to come over for a little bit, if you’re okay with that. The doctor said it would be a good idea, since you spend most of your time with them, but if at any point it gets overwhelming, let me know. No hard feelings if we send everyone home.”

“Okay,” she breathes, her head already swimming a bit just from talking to Aaron, and he does step forward, then, giving her her space but indicating that he wants to come closer, if she’ll let him.

“May I put this on you?” he murmurs, and opens his palm to display her rose necklace, the one she wears, must still wear, everyday. At least that hasn’t changed. “The EMTs gave it to me when they brought you in. I’ve been holding onto it for safekeeping.” She nods, turns around, and he slips it around her throat, clasps it, brushes a careful hand over her neck to move her hair out of the way. “That’s better,” he says, his breath ghosting over her skin, and she sighs, wants to sink back against the heat of his body; she just knows how comforting it would be, how safe she would feel. Instead, she turns and smiles softly.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” They hold eye contact for a moment, and then Emily appears at her side, making a face like she knows she’s interrupting something.

“Ready to get going?” she asks, handing Sophie’s duffle bag over to Aaron. “I’m going to stop at home and then I’ll head to your place.”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Emily,” Sophie says sincerely, stepping forward to pull her into a tight hug. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I hope I remember more about you soon.”

“I’m happy I could be here, and I know you will. Just give it some time.” She pats her on the back, and then leaves the room.

Aaron carries her bag and leads her out to the parking garage, toward a standard federal issued SUV, and he opens the door for her, closes it behind her with a gentle smile.

Time to go home.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x original female character #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner/original female character #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader

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what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me · 4 years ago

Text

The Haunting of Thomas Sanders

> Part 1 < Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Nico was beginning to think his new boyfriend was haunted by ghosts. He never planned to bring it up until the ghosts themselves came to him asking for help.

[AO3]

CW: food mention, alcohol mention, past breakup

Notes: Based off this text post I made.

Nico had come to the mall for inspiration.

Anything to get out of his office would help him at this point, really. The meetings he had to go to were stifling any new ideas and the nosey, pompous co-workers were worse. The writer did not know what he was looking for, but what else brought people to malls? Maybe a new outfit would uncover confidence , maybe indulging in greasy food would be that final click he seemed to lack, maybe people-watching would offer the right story. Nico's bets were not on the last one.

The mall was not as busy as it once had been. When he was still a teen it was a lively place bustling with a constant traffic of people. Walking through shops offered hours of new stimulation and the hallways were towering, intricate skylights the crowning jewel. As time went on Nico got older and things changed. Online shopping is easier than anything and a fair few of the shops were closed down for good.

Nevertheless it was his favorite place to write if he had to choose. The buzz of energy helped him focus on work. Nico found peculiar security in being an irrelevant face in a crowd of hundreds, and knowing that each person had a life he could never even imagine opened floodgates of inspiration. The 'What if's?' and 'Why's?" he asked himself when people-watching could get the ball rolling.

Now there were less faces, less stories. Nico did not appreciate the way this shift reflected in his work. The difference was noticeable, and he struggled more with deadlines, but he worked with what he had.

He learned to pay attention to individuals more. However, currently what he had was waiting for his food, because at this point he might have more luck finding inspiration in eating then in others. There had only been a toddler throwing a tantrum, a teen scrolling on their phone, and a man who sat down across from him at the food court-

Oh hello, inspiration.

If Nico was staring, the only reason he got away with it was his laptop blocking his line of sight. He saw all he needed out of the corner of his eye. The floral shirt was extremely flattering, and if he wasn't mistaken he could see the outline of muscles. That brown hair looked fluffy, and what he would give to run his fingers through it while- Okay, Nico, you might be gay but that thought isn't for a stranger .

He could not even see his eye color. And the man in the floral shirt was eating, interrupting his meal would be rude. Maybe there was a way to make this still work? As his waitress got to his table and dropped off his food, he subtly turned his pinned-covered backpack in the direction of the stranger. If Mr. Handsome did not answer his silent plea then he would move on.

He tossed a fry into his mouth instead of letting himself think.

Maybe he had got his hopes up when the guy came in his direction, only to walk up to a Karrot King line. When the writer saw the man in the floral shirt inspect the plant, he wondered if he liked botany. Finally the same useless hope happened again when they made admittedly awkward eye contact for a few seconds. So he has brown eyes. The guy turned away rather fast so Nico dropped it. Maybe showing a pride pin made the guy uncomfortable and it was to good to be true.

Only when he heard a CRASH and saw somebody fall into a garbage can, did he finally get an idea about what to write. That was a metaphor he could spin into a story. Certainly it was not at all because he felt trashy for a missed opportunity. Nor was it due to that cute guy having disappeared, leaving his food uneaten.

Wait . You can still make this work, Flores.

He scarfed down the rest of his food and discarded the trash. Nico's fast pace to get to the table with the food turned a few heads, but he ignored it. Greasy bag in hand, he browsed the crowd for that familiar pattern. Every person wearing a floral shirt was either an older lady or a child. Nico swayed on the balls of his feet as he contemplated what to do next, but then he saw him coming out of the restroom.

Bingo!

None of what happened after went as planned. Serves him right for letting his overactive imagination create unrealistic expectations.

He should have known trying to do small talk with strangers would only backfire. After Nico had called out after him to return the food, he had tried to ask what made him leave in a rush to forget his food. Then the guy asked what was wrong with him and Nico dropped it. He gave the stranger his well-wishers and left afterwards. He would honestly rather head back to work then be here right now.

No matter if he was admittedly cute, Nico Flores probably would have been mad at the man if he did not look like he was on the verge of a public anxiety attack. He was probably starving, too, if he had forgotten his lunch.

The man in the floral shirt hesitated behind him, running after Nico.

When they actually sat down to talk together, the man in the floral shirt - Mr. Sanders, Thomas - was quite charming. And funny. And intelligent. Oh, when he had called Thomas an inspiration earlier he had meant it. He just met a singer and an actor, is there a more perfect match to a writer and poet?

Leave it to his imagination to think of a man he just met reciting the poems and lovingly singing songs he writes.

The two had talked for over two hours without noticing. They had bounced ideas off of each other and Nico made an impressive amount of progress. He felt so giddy with just this one interaction! Nico was sad that they had to leave; Thomas seemed just as reluctant to part.

"Well you didn't get to eat much today at lunch right?"

Thomas fiddled with his fingers, "Yeah…"

Nico did not let himself second guess himself , he offered, "Then let me buy you dinner tonight!"

As a breath caught in Thomas' throat, Nico was self conscious that he might have said something wrong, but the heavy blush across the other man's face was not of offence or horror at all. Thomas was smiling at him again.

Finding ways to make Thomas go speechless was going to be his new favorite pastime… if Thomas would give him a chance, he decided. Just that alone lit a fire inside him, and later when he finished with writing for work, he would write some more. All he would be writing about would be this, a collection of poems to free these butterflies in his stomach. Thomas seemed to look around for approval from anybody else and nodded quickly

"I'd love to go with you, Nico! Maybe we can uh- get to know each other better?" Oh man, it was flattering to have somebody so cute get so nervous at him of all people.

"Only if I could get to know the digits on your phone number better," he confirmed with a playful grin. It might have been cheesy, certainly. But he was also the person who told Thomas that they would not waste this opportunity. Pretending he was not corny now would be a lie.

Thomas taking his cliché advances in stride only made him more hopeful.

They both later met at a local bar and grill close to the beach. A salty sea breeze tousled his hair and the palm leaves. The hour was close to sunset, too hot for the mosquitoes to bug them but not too hot for the two of them to eat outside.

"I'm looking for a table for two? RSVP'd under the name 'Flores'?" He asked. The waitress nodded, sat him down with a menu. Thomas was not there, and a part of him wonders if he is getting stood up. Nico, not particularly interested in looking at food yet, fiddled with his laptop. He sighed because even If that was the case, Nico would try to make the most of the night.

The waitress brought Thomas to the table a few minutes later. The writer's heart soared before worry took root. Thomas was wearing that same expression from earlier that day on his face. He anxiously explained. "I'm so, so sorry for being late. And i totally get if you don't want me here and would prefer to just call this all off. I didn't mean to show up late, but then as I was about to leave my apartment I- my keys just-"

Nico grabbed one of Thomas' hands and smiled reassuringly. "Hey, I'm not angry you got here late."

Thomas really did look cute flustered, but he did not let go of the hand. Instead he ran his thumbs along his knuckles. "I'm happy you're here with me. Wanna order a drink and maybe share an appetizer with me?"

They both chatted about foods they disliked while waiting. Thomas hated carrots with a passion as it turned out, and he made a mental note to tease him about going to a Karrot King. Nico in turn talked about his dislike for most seafood and mushrooms because of the slimy texture. The waitress came and both agreed on a sampler platter to share.

"Mimosas at sunset?" He inquired.

Thomas smiled nervously. "I usually save them for brunches, with friends. All the other options I like are too much if I want to drive home tonight."

Nico nodded, understanding.

Just like in the food court, Talking with Thomas made time go past without him even noticing. They tried out food together, talked about music, and that led Nico into telling a story about a Highschool band. Thomas was red in the face and giggling uncontrollably by the time they paid for the check and had to leave.

They left the building together when Thomas stopped him. "There's a park around the corner. We can feed the ducks some leftovers."

If Nico noticed that Thomas was not ready to say bye just yet, he did not say it. The last of the sun was behind the horizon by the time they went through a breadstick. Watching Thomas interact with the ducks gave him the idea that this man loved animals. They were cute, he would admit, but nature found other ways to ruin his mood.

Nico laughed at himself, pulling his arms closer into his body. "I almost wish I dressed up a bit more. I didn't expect the mosquitoes to be this bad."

"I know it's warm out, but I can lend you a jacket?"

Nico did a double take at what Thomas was holding up. It was black with plaid sleeves, already oversized so it wouldn't have a problem fitting Nico. It honestly looked very comfortable, and it would keep him from being bit, but comfort wasn't what he was caught up on.

"Being warm beats being eaten alive."

When the fuck did Thomas have an extra jacket on him? Did he really not notice it?

He hesitated, and then asked a whole entirety different question. "Are you sure I can take this? I won't be able to return it to you tonight."

Thomas insisted, "Please, I don't mind- I don't need it. And you can keep it for tonight, or until we see each other again?"

Nico put the jacket on and it was soft. And it smelled like the cologne Thomas was wearing. Oh this was nice. "When will that be, Thomas?"

Thomas let his eyes linger on Nico in his jacket. "Saturday I'm free, I think. We could have brunch together, even."

He smiled. "Saturday sounds wonderful."

When they first had met, being infatuated was easy. It came to the pair more natural than breathing.

Nico originally did not know if his relationship with Thomas Sanders would go anywhere. But the first meeting had been so promising. And then they had a brunch date at Thomas' place, then a second and a third. Maybe… maybe Nico was moving too fast. Things kept going well nonetheless.

Four, five, six, seven. They kept on hanging out. Going out. They wanted to see more and more of each other. Quickly they were amassing a horde of good memories together. During nights away, they loved to text and call each other. They never put a label on what they did, which was starting to bother him. It felt more intimate than friendship. Were these dates?

According to his family, yes. They had noticed his change in mood and lack of free time quickly and demanded explanation. He kept it vague, but got advice anyways. Mama Flores said it was ridiculous that he had not brought Thomas by to meet the famila. Hid Papa was more doubtful. Even though it has been years since Nico's last major failed relationship, his father was still worried.

Papa Flores was a proud man, so it left a bad taste in his mouth when he requested Nico to take more time before giving his heart away. He had to oblige. Nico was over it, he healed, but some of his family was not. Nico's ex was like a second son to Papa, and everybody was hurt by him.

Call him cliché, but Thomas was different.

Even when Nico was past the stage of infatuation, Thomas took his breath away.

Could you be infatuated by somebody you have not actually kissed yet? It felt like it. Sure, when they had met at that food court, he had his breath taken away, and that feeling intensified when they saw each other more. He knew infatuation could feel like love, but these feelings passed the test of time and matured into something deeper. With more meaning. He did not like just the idea of Thomas and what their future might look like, he liked Thomas for his presence and as a person.

Suddenly his worries that they were moving too fast turned into frustrations they were moving too slow. They were more intimate than regular friends, but they never got far enough to be considered partners. It was frustrating to figure out. Nico was ready for a relationship, he was certain. The three months he spent getting to know Thomas were blissful, and calling their dates only "hangouts" had begun to feel forced.

So they talked about it.

Thomas said he was also ready but his actions seemed more… hesitant. He mentioned somebody from his past, who he moved on from but never could forget. Nico wanted to ask, to find out what happened to his heart for him to be so afraid. He knew what it felt like to have scars that still hurt, he wanted to be there for Thomas as he healed.

But that was not the time for the conversation. Not when Nico was nearly on Thomas' lap and his arms hung around his neck. Not when Thomas met his eyes and Nico stared at them for too long. It could have been him trying to figure out what emotions they held, maybe Thomas' eyes were that beautiful. His friend -- boyfriend? -- got so anxious and trapped in his head easily, but Thomas seemed in control of his more scary thoughts in that moment. It brought a smile to his face, unnoticed between the way they were slowly moving closer.

Still, cautious and vulnerable, eager and loving, Thomas had let Nico kiss him. Finally getting to show Thomas just how much he wanted to cherish him was amazing. And receiving that same passion in return was intoxicating.

Getting an answer never felt so good.

Nico's more-than-friendly feelings were not the only thing that was starting to add up in regards to Thomas either. There were strange happenings, though were so minuscule he had nothing tangible to go off of.

Thomas might be really good at sneaking things past Nico's eyes, common sense would say. Intuition told himself not to doubt what he saw. Thomas did not have that spare jacket on their first date originally. It literally had to of appeared from thin air. And when Thomas invited him for brunch, he noticed that two of the mimosas Thomas had prepared with brunch had vanished. Sometimes he experiences ghost touches when staying the night. The hands were gentle and comforting, calluses on the fingertips just like Thomas, but when he opened his eyes nobody was there.

That was the most noticeable of things. Though he could list off a dozen smaller happenings. He had no proof for them, as they could be explained, but Nico listened to his gut here.

And Nico has no idea what he would want to do with this information anyways. Thomas seemed to have some supernatural force that followed him around. What a fantastic conclusion to jump to! It would be weird to bring up, especially after Thomas had denied anything when Nico subtly brought it up. And the ghosts - for lack of better term - did nothing to harm Thomas.

The information that Thomas was haunted by ghosts was, for all intents and purposes, useless.

(Except it was not. It was fantastic material to write from. When he first called Thomas inspiration, his first impression never proved to be wrong.)

(And if Nico had started a personal project dedicated to a story based on it, nobody needed to know,)

The difference between Nico's feelings for Thomas and his feelings about his ghosts is that one actually got addressed.

He would be content to let Thomas have that secret to himself.

NEXT PART >>

#sanders sides #flirting with social anxiety #sanders sides fic #nico flores #thomas sanders #nico x thomas #karrot kings #pintroverts #nicomas #ts virigl #virgil sanders #the haunting of thomas sanders #snappy writes

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lene-loki · 3 years ago

Text

Never Too Close

Summary: After the events of Avengers: Endgame, (Y/N) Romanoff is mourning the death of her sister Natasha. She is unexpectedly finding comfort in the presence of someone who shares the pain of losing the people he loved.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff!Sister Reader

Warnings: Character Death, Spoiler for Avengers: Endgame, Angst, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts

Word Count: 2264 Words

A/N: I hope ya’ll liked this Imagine. Please let me know if you want to get tagged on future Imagines or Series that I want to write. This isn’t proofread and please excuse grammaticaly and verbal mistakes since English isn’t my mother tongue. And now please enjoy!! With Love, Léne xx

(Y/N) = Your Name

The pouring of the rain sounds like a faint whisper in the distance. When I close my eyes and listen precisely to the rustle I can almost hear the voice I long to hear. I open my eyes when the wind starts to blow into my ear, making my whole body shiver. A raindrop lands directly on top of my cheekbone and gets mixed up with a teardrop that escapes my eye. The wet droplet almost feels like a passing kiss. As if she is standing right beside me and kisses my tears away or maybe she cries from heaven herself and her tears end up on my face. I like to think that she watches me from above. Seeing my every move. Despite the rain a familiar warmth is spreading through my heart, making me feel safe and not alone anymore. My eyes blink the tears away, trying to focus on the words that are written on the wooden cross in front of me. The fact that her death is still so recent that she has to wait for a stone to mark her grave, makes me sob. I have looked so many times at that wooden cross that I started to hate it. She deserves a beautiful, carved stone. Not a dirty, broken cross where her name already starts to fade. But she has to wait. Her coffin isn’t set enough to put a heavy stone on top of the earth. I wipe the back of my hand over my tearstained cheeks before I kneel down in front of the grave. Everyday I bring a new kind of flowers by. Making the earth dissapear in a vibrant, little garden. It helps my own mental health to transform the place of grief into a little paradise for her. And I hope this is exactly where she’s at now. In a paradise. My eyes tear away from the flowers before I start counting them again like I always do. Because the number of the flowers is the number of the days since she passed away. My chest hurts, my heart starts to crumble inside when I once again think about the empty coffin under the ground. My sisters body dissapeard when she sacrificed herself to get the Soul Stone. Now all that remained of her is the memory.

Although it’s past midnight when I leave the graveyard I can’t help but to ring Clint out of his sleep - as well as his wife and his children probably. He picks up the phone with a yawn, his voice raspy from his deep sleep. He is the closest I have to family now and he knows. He always cared for me and Natasha and now that she’s gone he’s supporting me more than ever. Giving me a shoulder to cry on no matter how late it is. That is exactly whe he’s never annoyed when I call him at times like this. My loneliness leads the conversation as I tell him that I don’t know where to go. “Where are you right now, (Y/N)?” I shrug my shoulders even though he can’t see. “I think I’m near the Avengers compound.” My voice is barely louder than a whisper. My throats stil sore from my hour long crying at Natashas grave. “I can pick you up. You can stay at mines if you want.” He suggests and I can hear him fumbling with the bedsheets in the background. Ever since Natashas passing, I stayed at the Avengers compound in her former room. But sometimes it gets too much being surrounded by her memories and her whole life in just that little space. Everything in her room reminds me of her scent, her smile, her voice, the look in her eyes - especially that tiny twinkle in her iris that always appeared when she felt extremely proud of me. I have to pull myself together to not sob again and alarm Clint even more. As much as I want to escape from the compound for a little while, I don’t want to wear out Clints care for me. I feel like I already asked too much of him. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry that I woke you.” I swallow the lump down in my throat in hopes he doesn’t hear how near I am to losing it all again. He sighs at the other end. “You’re sure?” “Yes.” “Okay, love. Don’t apologize for calling me.” His voice sounds so soft I could fall asleep immediately on the side of the road. He just has this soothing affect on me. I hang up after telling him that I love him and walk in the dim lights of the streetlamps to the compound.

Inside the building everything is pitch dark. The only light comes from Wandas room. It’s red and spreads in chaotic rays around the space of her own four walls. She surely is training her magic since she still hasn’t full control over her powers what burdened her more than usually the last couple of days. I decide not to disturb the Scarlet Witch and seek refuge in Natashas room. I really try to sleep but since Thanos happened my nights are as restless as my hurting heart. I’m still wide awake physically but dangerously exhausted mentally when I hear voices in the early morning hours in the kitchen. Wandas voice makes me wonder if she’s been awake the whole night as well. I leave the room in my short pyjama shorts and my plain white T-Shirt. I wouldn’t fall asleep anyway so I might as well just get up and start another day of inner misery. I round the corner to the kitchen island where Pepper placed a large bowl of exotic fruits on top. The blonde showed me a sad smile since she’s lost in her own grief. Pepper disappears out of the kitchen - leaving me alone with Wanda and a familiar brunette man which I recognize from Tony’s funeral. I can’t remeber his name but I recall the pained expression on his face and the devastated haze over his pupils. He seems like he always looks like pure misery. “Good morning.” I greet them both shyly since they haven’t notice me yet. Wanda immediately sends a heartful smile in my direction while the stranger’s corners of his mouth just twitch the slightest bit upward - almost to tiny to notice. I also perceive his new hairstyle. The last time I saw him he had messy, long waves. Longer than shoulder length and a full beard. Now he has his hair cut short and looking neat with his jawline covered in dark stubbles instead of the fullgrown beard. “Bucky, this is (Y/N). She is Natashas’ sister.” Wanda explains him in her thick, sokovian accent since he developed the same look of recognition on his face as me. Now the puzzle pieces click together. That is Bucky Barnes. Steves’ best friend and the other Super Soldier. His facial features unravel in realization. “Oh, right. Hello, (Y/N). Nice to meet you again and I’m... Sorry about your loss.” He frowns at the last part. “Thank you, it’s nice to see you again in less sorrowful circumstances.” I try to lighten up the mood a bit because I don’t want to start my day already with a bad encounter that reminds me once again how miserable I am inside. Unsure if we should shake hands, Bucky’s metal arm jerks briefly in my direction but he instantly lets it sink again - wrapping the room in an uncomfortable silence. “Well it was nice to see you again. I got to go now.” I excuse myself from the weird situation and leave without breakfast to go to my Natasha’s room. I still feel uncomfortable calling it my room since it was Natsha’s place to live for so many years. I didn’t completely lie to Bucky and Wanda since it’s a new day and time to pick up new flowers for my sisters grave. I change into comfy short, cotton pants and an old, blue pullover from Natashas wardrobe before I leave the compound.

I take a cab to the same flower shop I visit everyday. Where even the owner knows me by name already. Today marks exactly thirty days since Natasha died. A whole month without my older sister by my side. I ordered a special type of flower for this occasion. A bouqet of beautiful Royal Azaleas - the most precious flowers of our native country Russia. As beautiful as Natasha and I like how it brings a bit of our home to her - making her little paradise even more exotic. At the graveyard I am so consumed in my own thoughts to where I’m going to place the Royal Azaleas on the ground in front of the wooden cross, that I don’t notice right away the broad figure a few feet away from me. He’s standing upset in his posture and bent a little forward above a grave. It’s the back of his head - his freshly done hair and the colour of his shirt that gives him away and I realise that it’s Bucky. I decide against it to walk up to him since he’s mourning in his own world as well and obviously needs his space. My eyes tear away from the picture of the broken man in front of me and I finally walk straight up to Natashas grave. I crouch slightly to put my bag on the ground. I brought a little shovel to set the new flowers into the earth directly in front of the cross - making the Azaleas stand out from the rest. It is when I walk over to the well a few feet away from me to pick up the watering can, that Bucky notices he’s not alone. The can is filled to the brink and quite heavy in my hand as I carry it to Natashas grave, losing waterdrops on my way there. I silently water the flowers - careful not to drown them in the lack of strength I have in my hand that is holding the water can. The whole time I can feel his stare on me and I can almost feel his inner battle if he should come up to me or not. A few moments later he starts nervously walking up to me while I clean the little shovel to stow it away in my bag. “Do you still the need the watering can?” He asks hoarsely as he comes to a halt beside my bend over figure - blocking the sun out of my view which throws a few rays on the water droplets. Making them sparkle inbetween the flowers of Natashas floral paradise. “No.” I smile softly at him and stand up again. He returns my friendly grin and takes the water can but doesn’t leave straight away. He hesitates a second unsure of if he should leave me alone again, but somehow I long for company - not wanting to speak with the wind again and hallucinate about Natashas voice. “I lost everyone. Natasha was the only one left of my family. Although Clint supports the weight of my grief to make me feel like I’m not alone I still feel like it. I always felt like I’m alone in this world and deep down I don’t feel like I belong to the Avengers either. It was Natashas community. Not mine.” My eyes start to sting with upcoming tears while I open up to Bucky. I don’t really know why I do this. I guess I never felt so out of place and so lonely like I did in the past days and it scares me. Bucky clears his throat, his glance burning holes into my soul as he watches every slightest movement of my facial expressions. “I went through losing the people I love so many times that I lost count of it.” He blinks the tears away which threatens to fall from his eyes. “After Steve left to live the life with Peggy he always dramed to have, I officially got left alone. Steve was so much more than my friend. He was my brother.” He sniffs. “And now I’m searching for a sign - just something that keeps me in this life.” I let my tears run freely as I identify his words as my own feelings. And I realise that we are two souls hurting from the same experiences building a connection to one another through the desperation of having lost any strength to keep living. “Without wanting to get too close to you, I think you just as broken inside as me.” He speaks up. His eyes are swollen and red, still glossy from fresh tears which haven’t stopped being reproduced and leaking out of the corner of his eyes. I strangely feel comfort in the detail that his blue pullover matches mine. My heart starts to pick up a pace as I cross a vulnerable line between us and say: “I think you can never be too close to someone. I’m sure closeness is what we both need the most now.” I gift him a teary smile which he returns with a faint tint of red across his cheeks. Our encounter feels like a big step for the both of us - coming out of our shells we’ve been hiding in like anxious snails and I could feel it in the beating behind my ripcage that it was towards the right direction.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #y/n #bucky x original female character #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #marvel #avengers #endgame #clint barton #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #black widow

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redgillan · 5 years ago

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Under Pastel Skies - 6

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,327

Warnings: panic attacks, Bucky recalls his accident

A/N: I don’t have much to say, Bucky’s real emotional in this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter :’)

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Everywhere Bucky looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and colours. Red and green baubles hung from the ceiling, shimmering like disco balls and sending sparkles around the mall.

The air smelled like pine and cinnamon, something he usually liked, but it was so pungent and unpleasant that it made his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat. He tried to breathe through his mouth, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Flashes of silver and gold momentarily blinded him, and as someone walked past him, their shopping bag knocked against his leg. It didn’t hurt but it made him seethe with misplaced anger. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

Christmas carols played over the mall speakers, more specifically Jingle Bells which they played three times in less than an hour. Enough, enough, enough. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. He felt too big for his own skin, he needed to escape.

Then he felt your hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward what looked like a furniture store. He followed blindly, his vision blurry and unfocused, and sat down when you gently pushed him down onto a sofa.

Bucky shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushion. A woman came up and asked if you needed help but you told her that everything was fine. The buzzing in his ears made the voices around him strangely soothing, as if he was underwater. Now that he was sitting down, he felt a lot better.

You didn’t try to touch him, something he was very grateful for. He could feel your weight shift next to him and knowing you were there was enough. He focused on you –your heat, your voice, the smell of your shampoo- and his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he breathed out with a small smile, his head lolling to one side to look at you. “I ruined our shopping spree.”

The fear and panic had dissipated, leaving him cold, exhausted and craving skin to skin contact. He took your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were freezing cold.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I did.” A sad smile curved his lips, he needed to change the subject. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

You sank further into the sofa cushion sitting shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

“We celebrated so many different holidays,” you said. “Perks of growing up in a multicultural family. Christmas was wild though. One tree, five kids. That poor thing never stood a chance. Now I don’t really celebrate anything. December used to be so much fun, now it’s just not the same.”

“We should create our own holiday,” Bucky suggested, squeezing your hand.

“Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“Nah,” he replied with a yawn. “My sister is taking her kids somewhere warm, and my parents are traveling the country in their RV. You can invite your siblings if you want.”

“They’re not available.”

Bucky tried to decipher the expression on your face. Every time you talked about your siblings, you had a faraway look in your eyes, as though you were reliving a memory. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your face twisted into a painful grimace. Then suddenly it was gone.

“I want a tree.”

He watched you with a lazy smile. “I’ll get you a tree.”

You pulled him up to his feet and decided it was time to go home. Home. It still made Bucky weirdly warm inside when you called his apartment ‘home’. You crossed the mall, your arm looped through his as you walked, and took a cab to Brooklyn.

He almost fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the car moving through the streets of Manhattan. When he glanced at you, you were looking out your window watching the snow fall.

You’d been living together for almost two months now and Bucky couldn’t have picked a better roommate. He liked the way you sang in the shower, loud, cheerful and most definitely off-key. He liked that you had more pyjamas than every day clothes. He liked watching you paint from the living room, and it always made him laugh when you added weird things to his grocery list.

He could go to bed and sleep the whole night without waking up, feeling safer knowing someone else was there. Of course, not everything was perfect but it was close enough.

He woke up on the sofa a few hours later, still dressed and with a fluffy blanket thrown over him. The sun was setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges. He basked in the setting sun, a content smile on his face, before he sat up.

The TV was on, the volume low, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table going through a bunch of old photographs. Bucky looked around the room, taking in the new furniture and decor.

There was a comfortable armchair in front of the gas burning fireplace. Your book was resting on the seat of the armchair. You had also bought a lot of decorative pillows, some were pretty funny like the one that looked like a giant cookie.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re awake! I bought some picture frames. I thought it’d make this place look less like a high end furniture store.”

“I liked it better when you thought this apartment was amazing.”

You laughed. “I still do, but it’s a bit... soulless.” You tilted your head back, looking at him upside down. “Sorry.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “All right, well, while you do that I’m going to start dinner.”

He pushed off the sofa but you caught his wrist before he could leave. “I’m already done. I’ve left some frames for you.”

“I already have lots of pictures upstairs.”

“I know, but no one ever goes upstairs,” you replied, letting go of his wrist. “And you’re not in any of the photos.”

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the picture you were holding. It must have been taken on the day of your high school graduation, you were dressed in a cap and gown, smiling with your whole face. He’d never seen you smile like that. He recognized Peggy Carter right away, her hair was more silver-white than brown and there were deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Your mom wasn’t looking at the camera, she was scolding the young man who was giving you bunny ears. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera. Bucky couldn’t tell how old he was, he appeared to be either twenty or fifty.

There were two other women wearing sundresses, one had long brown hair, the other had twisted her hair into Bantu knots. A young man with dyed silver hair and dark roots was squatting in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest à la Backstreet Boys.

“You should frame this one,” he said, sitting on the floor next to you.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me kinda sad.”

Bucky learned not to dwell on the past. It hadn’t been easy but it would have been impossible to heal without the support of his friends and family. Grief manifests itself in a number of ways, it’s raw and complex, and comes from your soul.

Bucky had a deep love for his childhood, especially his college years, but while he would cherish this time forever, he had accepted that he was a different person. He wasn’t the same naïve, youthful man he used to be, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

But he also knew that some people live in the past. It makes them feel alive.

“Y’know,” he started, meeting your eyes with a smile. “My hair used to be pretty long. I think I still have some photos in a folder somewhere.”

You clasped your hands together in a silent prayer. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you,” you deadpanned. “I need to see those pictures. I need them now. It’s a matter of life and death.”

He rolled his eyes while he got to his feet. “You’re so dramatic. I’ll go get ‘em.”

Bucky took the stairs up to his office and came back a few minutes later with a laptop under his arm. He sat on the floor next to you and set the laptop on his lap.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, mimicking a Cheshire cat grin.

He sighed and tried to look stern but it was nearly impossible. You were too lovely, and he couldn’t help but smile. He opened up the laptop and glanced at you from the corner of his eye; you were practically vibrating.

He started going through the photos when he found one of himself at a party. He was in his early twenties, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In the next one he had been joined by two equally drunk women, and he was now roaring at the camera.

“Early twenties, two arms, and not a care in the world,” he said with a little sigh.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the coffee table. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“College was a lot of fun,” Bucky said, grinning to himself.

“What was your major?”

“English,” he replied. “I was a really good student, I could have chosen anything but there were more girls studying literature so I enrolled as an English major.”

“Wait!” You recoiled as if you had misheard him. “Did you really choose English because there were more girls?”

He made a funny grimace, and his nose scrunched up a bit as he mulled it over. “Yeah... my priorities were a bit mixed up. Hormones and all.”

You lowered your face into your hand and laughed. When you looked up at him, he was sporting his boyish grin and you shook your head at him.

In the next picture, he was clad in a black university graduation gown standing next to a blond man also dressed in a black gown. They were smiling, sunglasses perched on their nose.

“When I graduated, I had no idea what to do with a BA in English,” Bucky said after taking a long look at the photo. “The thing is, I never found my life’s calling. In high school I didn’t know what job I wanted to do, or what really motivated me, and to be honest I never really thought about it. I figured I’d find my passion in college but...” he trailed off with a shrug. “You’re lucky to have found your passion.”

“Is that why you want to help me?” you asked. “Because I found my calling and I wasn’t pursuing it.”

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yes, I guess that’s part of the reason why I want to help you.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one struggling to keep my head above water.” He pressed his index finger to the computer screen. “This is Steve, my oldest friend. He had just started working as a professional freelance photographer. I had nothing to do so I decided to help him build his portfolio. You’re an artist, I’m sure you know that a portfolio will make or break you.”

“It shows what you’ve accomplished, the skills you mastered,” you said, nodding. “Your potential employers will want to see your portfolio.”

“Exactly, and you have to show them your best work. In Steve’s case, it meant taking risks. No matter how talented you are, no one’s gonna pay you for a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s gorgeous but it’s not rare.”

“So what did he do?”

“We decided to climb Mount Everest.” He mechanically rubbed his stump and your eyes followed his movement. “It might’ve been the dumbest idea we’ve ever had but it sort of made sense at the time. Steve needed a challenging project and I was trying to find my purpose. We trained for a year, put money aside and took a loan. We were young, we thought we were invincible.

“The thing is,” he continued, “Mount Everest is the most famous mountain in the world. It’s crowded and only half the climbers reach the summit. A lot of people die.” He took a small pause. “Sometimes they can’t remove their bodies and they become landmarks. Our Sherpa told us about this man, they call him Green Boots. He’s sort of curled up in a fetal position near what they call Green Boots’ cave. When you walk past him, it looks like he’s just sleeping and because it’s so cold out there he’s actually well-preserved.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Bucky let out a small, humourless laugh. “When I fell, I dislocated my arm and it pinched my axillary artery completely closed. It cut off circulation. That’s why they had to amputate. I was just lying there, too weak to call for help, watching people walk past me. They thought I was dead. And I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and people will refer to me as Blue Jacket.’ Then Steve and the Sherpa found me, and Steve carried me on his back until they found a shelter. When the rescue team arrived, it was too late to save my arm.”

He went through the photos in silence and glared at the screen without really seeing it, his mind far away. On the screen, there was an endless stream of blurry smiles and blue eyes but he couldn’t look away. His thoughts cleared up when he felt the back of your knuckles along his cheek and jaw.

He unclenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw. You brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. You mindlessly played with the curl on top of his head and raked your fingernails gently over his scalp. When you spoke, your voice was just a soft whisper.

“Come back to me.”

Bucky forced his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears pooling on his lower lashes. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. After a moment, he felt his body beginning to relax.

“How do you do that?” he asked in a pleading voice, turning his head to look at you. “How do you quiet the noise in my head?”

The question caught you off guard but you recovered quickly. You took his arm and draped it over your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you said, snuggling into his side. “It’s your second panic attack today. Did I push you too hard?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “I don’t like winter. It’s freezing cold and it gets dark at three thirty. Not my favorite time of the year.”

“But this helps, right?” you asked, waving your hand back and forth in the space between you.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it helps a lot.”

“Good.” You snuggled a little closer.

“But since you’re hoarding my arm, you’re gonna have to go through the pictures yourself,” he added, grinning down at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed. You reached out and slid two fingers over the touchpad guiding the cursor over the arrow icon. “So where are those pictures of you with long hair, uh?”

He knew you were trying to distract him but still made him blush. Those photos were in a folder titled: recovery spring 2010. He gave you directions to find it and waited for your reaction, wondering if you would burst into laughter at the sight of him with long hair and a lot more weight on.

“Wow.”

Bucky turned his attention to the screen to see which one had caught your interest. It was a selfie Steve had taken one sunny afternoon after he had forced Bucky to go out with him and Sam. They were sitting outside drinking iced tea.

Steve’s smile was blinding. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap he loved so much. Bucky sat hunched over in his seat behind Steve, his smile small but genuine. It was the kind of smile that said ‘my friends forced me to join them but I’m secretly glad they did’. Sam was leaning sideways against Bucky, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You look like a completely different person,” you said. “So... strong.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? I’m still strong.” He removed his arm from behind your shoulders and raised it to flex his biceps. “Look at that!”

With a roll of your eyes, you let your hand roam over his muscular arm slightly squeezing his biceps. “Okay, I’m impressed.”

“Ah! Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Now, c’mon, s’ time to eat.”

Bucky got to his feet and extended his hand to help you up. You trailed behind him as you walked toward the kitchen. “I bet Steve could rip a log in half with his bare hands.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Where is he?”

“Hard to say. He works for National Geographic now. I think he’s supposed to be in Siberia.”

You spent the next few days like tourists. You showed Bucky your favourite museums, stayed way too long in front of several artworks but he never complained. Bucky took you to the movies. You sat together in the dark for several hours watching foreign films, and you only fell asleep once. Then the two of you would walk around Manhattan speaking in a made-up language and pretending to be characters in a movie.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. A little voice in the back of his head kept repeating ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ but he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Bucky said, gesturing at the tree in the living room. “She went to the store to buy some ornaments.”

He handed Sam a bottle of beer which he took with a smile before tipping it to his lips for a long drink. Bucky hit his beer bottle on the counter to uncap it and followed Sam into the living room.

“She’s excited, uh,” Sam said with a grin. “You guys are spending Christmas together?”

“Liss,” Bucky replied after taking a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating Liss this year.”

“’The hell is that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s an old word. It means comfort, happiness.” A respite from pain. “We decided to make our own holiday. We’re going to spend two days in our fanciest loungewear, eating junk food and playing board games.”

“Cute,” Sam drawled out. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky glared at him. “Why do you always do that? I finally feel at peace with myself. I’m happy, I’m ready to take on new challenges. Why do you always have to make fun of me?”

Sam’s eyes widened at this. “Woah, I’m joking. It’s what we do. You tease me, I tease you. C’mon, I know things have been hard for you. I’m proud of you,” he rushed to say, afraid he might have hurt his friend’s feelings, but then he caught Bucky’s barely concealed smirk behind his beer bottle. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course, man. Can you say ‘I’m proud of you’ again? Wanna make it my ringtone.”

“Screw you.” They sipped their beer in silence, each deep in thought. “But you like her, right?”

Bucky twirled the neck of the bottle between two fingers. “I do, she’s nice.”

Sam shook his head like he was frustrated with the answer “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not in love with her, Sam.”

“I never said anything about being in love.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “Beside there’s an entire world between like and love.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of hurt and fear in the depths of Sam’s eyes. He reminded him of Steve: strong yet vulnerable, generous and righteous. Bucky had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about you.

“Is this about Natasha?”

Sam hung his head and stared at the beer bottle he rolled between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like it was inevitable. These sugar daddy relationships are complicated; at first it’s fun and easy, we both get what we want.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “And then it changes, so fast you barely see it coming, and it becomes the only thing you look forward to.” He took another swig of beer.

“These few hours with her mean more to me than anything else in this goddamn world. But it’s not real, none of this is real.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“I pay her.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She spends time with me because I pay her. Sex wasn’t part of our deal but it came naturally. It’s going to end, one way or another. And If my time with her is limited, why make things complicated, y’see?”

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Bucky’s stomach, taunting him, trying to make him see something he wasn’t ready to see yet. “What if she feels the same way ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “To know that I’d have to talk to her, and I’d rather not take my chances. I’m happy with the way things are right now. It hurts, but I’m okay.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “You gotta be careful, Bucky. I see the way you look at your angel. You’re skating on thin fucking ice.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like, love,” Sam said, weighing the two words. “And everything in between.”

They mulled over Sam’s words while they finished their beer. A million thoughts raged through Bucky’s head, circling around like wasps, buzzing and annoying. He was relieved when he heard the front door open.

“Italian leather loafers, mmh is Sam here?” you called out from the kitchen where you set your shopping bag down on the table before you joined them in the living room. “Hey guys! What’s the matter? You both look like someone kicked your puppy-OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT TREE!”

While you ran across the living room, Sam cast Bucky a look. The message was clear; be careful. They got to their feet and acted like nothing happened. Sam put on his coat and gave you a quick hug before he left.

Bucky was silent while you were decorating the tree. He let you decide where you wanted to put the tinsel and baubles. He just sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, handing baubles. A smile curled his lips when you cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone. He looked up at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Just old and moody.”

You laughed. “Come here, help me with this. It’s actually super boring when no one’s fighting for the baubles.”

“Oh, you wanna fight, angel,” he said with a smirk while he played with a tinsel garland. “Ok, let’s fight.”

You took a step back. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Too late!”

You shrieked when he launched himself at you. He wrapped the tinsel garland around you, loosely pinning your arms to your sides. You laughed so hard your eyes watered and your shoulders shook. He used it to his advantage and looped two baubles over your ears like giant earrings.

Still laughing, you tugged one of your hands free and threw a handful of tinsel all over Bucky before you ran away. He chased you around the living room, using one of the fairy lights as a lasso.

Soon, the living room was a giant mess. There was more tinsel in Bucky’s hair than on the tree, and you had managed to wrap the fairy lights around his body. You look pretty ridiculous with your giant earrings and dishevelled hair.

You and Bucky collapsed on the floor, out of breath and euphoric. The sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers casting a warm golden glow over the room. You turned on the fairy lights and burst out laughing when Bucky sparkled like a tree.

He found his phone on the sofa and handed it to you. You opened up the camera app and nestled closer to him. The first photo was blurry because you couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky thought the second photo was nice but you didn’t like it.

“My smile is too wild,” you said.

“You look beautiful,” he argued. “I look like a Christmas tree.”

Bucky felt a pleasant stir in his belly when you placed your head on his shoulder. Be careful. He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head. His chest was hurting. It wasn’t unpleasant, just peculiar and unexpected. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Bucky! You have to open your eyes,” you scolded him after looking at the picture, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He wasn’t sure he could; tears were welling up in his eyes. He was terrified of his feelings for you, but his body was screaming at him to stop burying his head in the sand. He didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to alarm you, because the truth was, he hadn’t been careful.

“Can’t. I’m comfy,” he replied, masking his true feelings behind a joke.

“Open them or I’ll tickle you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to use force.”

He soldiered on and opened his eyes, smiling at the camera. He liked you, and he promised himself he would never tell you. His feelings didn’t matter, it wasn’t part of your deal.

Part 7

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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kawaii-harrys · 3 years ago

Text

MAYBE HE HATES ME

Word: 2k+

Synopsis : Your particularly rude neighbor takes an interest in your friend.

TW : None, just that it gets shitty

______

“KEEP YOUR CAT IN CHECK!”, was the first post-it on your door from an angry neighbor after Small Tinkle managed to scratch the neighbor’s door.

“STOP THE FIRE ALARM”, was the second post-it on your door after you had accidentally managed to set the fire alarm.

And since then, there was silence. Although, the smell of the luxurious cooked meal would waft around the hallways at times and you could hear the clattering of crockery too. You had seen him, once. Once when you had to be stuck in the elevator with him after having a shopping spree. He looked like he hated you. After all, the whole time, he did not look at your side, even once and ignored your presence altogether.

Caitlyn was a good friend of yours. To be said, she was the one who listened to you at times like this. She bothered herself with your business and you couldn’t ask for more.

You could easily admit, you were not even near as lucky as Caitlyn when it came to guys. In a room full of people, if someone like Harry had to walk in, he would easily choose Caitlyn, while you would be left behind in the shadows.

She was kind, beautiful, cheerful, and without a second nature. When it came to studies, she was super intelligent. School, music, dance, cutlery, martial arts, and love, she was good in everything. While you could find nothing good about yourself, she was a walking prodigy. You did feel self-conscious when you were next to her. People who you assumed hated you, were kind to her. You didn’t feel like you belonged by your side.

So, today, you were in the cafe you both always met, all alone. You thought it was fair for her since she was stuck with you ever since college started. You even thought the chances of her getting a guy had gone low since she was stuck with you.

When your phone rang, you jumped a bit at the sound. It was Caitlyn.

“Hello?”, you asked, wondering if everything was okay.

“Are you at the same cafe as always?”, she asked through the phone.

“Yeah, is everything okay?”, you asked.

“Is it okay if I bring over the guy I have been seeing for a few days? I want him to meet you”, she sighed at the other end.

You were in a frenzy mode, though. Your hair was all over the place and your skin was blotchy. It wasn’t like you had put in an effort for your looks like Caitlyn did. You were in a gray shirt with mud brown jeans and you wondered if the guy would leave Caitlyn because she had a friend like you.

“I--I mean, if you feel comfortable enough”, you said, knowing there was nothing you could do.

“Alright, we are nearby so we will drop-in in 5 minutes”, she said hanging up the phone. Your glasses were getting foggy due to the steam of the coffee nearer to your face.

You didn’t really feel confident in yourself. Black braided hair, purple rimmed glasses, a copy of a country-themed book by your side, and coffee that looked near beige due to the amount of sugar you used.

Would her boyfriend really like you?

It didn’t matter though. It was their thing.

When the bell at the door chimed, you looked up to see the fair-skinned, blonde, navy blue-eyed girl, that you had always adored and then, there was the guy who lived next door to you.

In a minute both of them approached you, Caitlyn with her big smile and him with just a small one. But when he looked at you, you wondered if he even recognized you.

“Hey Y/n, this is Harry. And Harry, this is Y/n, the most important person in my life”, she said, giving you a big hug.

“Y/n? Aren’t you--”, he stopped mid-sentence as Caitlyn looked at him expectantly. “You look awfully familiar”, he mentioned, looking closely at you.

“Y/n here is very shy around new people. But, she is cool when you get to know her”, Caitlyn babbled.

“Really? I am waiting to get to see her cool side”, Harry laughed along.

“Y/n, I have told you enough times to not braid your hair. You look beautiful when your hair is open, you know? ”, she said, waving a spoon in her hand as Harry called out in the order.

“I just feel comfortable when the hair is out of my face”, you mutter lowly.

“Well, whatever suits you”, she said, dropping her shoulders.

“So, may I ask why your fingers look toasted?”, Harry asked, noticing the burns you had.

“I was just cooking something”, you lied.

Ever since the last post-it note, you had been dropping variety of sweets at his doorsteps anytime you could. Sometimes cookies, sometimes pastries, sometimes jelly. You didn’t want to know who the sender was, since he might get irked off and throw them in the dustbin. You didn’t know what he did with the sweets though, but not seeing them when you returned to get you relaxed for a while.

“Y/n, are you okay?”, Caitlyn asked, noticing the change in energy.

“Yeah, I just have a bit of stress. Miss Evelyn asked me to submit the homework as soon as possible, but I haven’t even started”, you replied.

“Is Miss Evelyn the one who teaches graphics design?”, Harry asked and you looked up at him, easing for a while.

You nodded.

“She can be uptight sometimes”, he laughed. You looked at him for a while. You had been dropping off sweets, hoping to get on his good side, but, all it took was Caitlyn getting him talking to you. It really showed how you were not fit near Caitlyn.

“Caitlyn talks about it all the time. Although she is a Physics major like me, she has taken an interest in Graphics designing”, Harry laughed.

“Hmm”, you nod again.

The rest of the time, it was Harry and Caitlyn flirting with each other all along, not even noticing your presence.

“I think”, you say to grab their attention, “I will go home first. I have some work to do”, you say and grab your purse. “Sorry, y/n, did we make you feel excluded”, Harry asked, with a gentle smile and you shake your head in a ‘no’ and left. Tears pricked at the end of your eyes as you walked down the chilly road.

Small Tinkle needed you anyways. It was time for his food too.

So, you sped your feet in order to reach home sooner.

Your apartment was around the corner so it didn’t really take you much time. As you entered the empty lift, you had an urge to cry out loud. You would be shamed to accept that you were jealous of your best friend; one who was kind enough to be your friend in the first place. But as you unlocked the door, Small Tinkle jumped to your face, making you fall behind.

“Small Tinkle, what’s the matter?”, you asked as you wondered why she was acting such. You thought, she must have escaped through the window to take a patrol. “Oh, are you hungry?”, you said, scratching the cat’s back and as it purred, you smiled and walked in. It was like a miracle, the way she always knew when you felt bad or sad.

“Sorry, Small Tinkle, but you have to do with the dry food again today. I haven’t cooked any meat or fish, you know”, you speak to your cat and you see it visibly sigh, even if it wasn’t possible. “A cat’s life is difficult, isn’t it”, you say jokingly as you lay out the food and water.

You look in the fridge to see if there is anything you can eat, but unluckily, you seem to have finished the last packet of ramen last night, in the spur of the moment. You sigh, not wanting to make a run to the supermarket. Maybe you can sleep hungry today. But, the angrily rumbling stomach wants food. You could order a pizza or a takeout, but, it’s month-end after all.

“Small Tinkle, stay here until I come back in five minutes. Don’t go patrolling today, the weather looks bad”, you say looking at the particular gray clouds out the window.

You re-wear your coat, get your purse and walk down the hallway to the elevator.

The wind has picked up its speed and is even raising the dust. You walk into the supermarket and look for some cheap meals. The instant noodles have at a 20 % discount and the frozen meal some offers on them too. You rush to take a glance at them, but being clumsy for not having eaten for a while, you feel weak and sway back to fall into a hard chest.

“I am sor--”, your words don’t find a way out as you see Harry holding your arms.

“Yo, you are her friend, aren’t you?”, he asked, despite the fact that you both had met just a while ago. You nodded your head again. “Instant noodles and frozen food. Must admit, they aren’t good for your health”, he said, frowning a bit. “It’s the month-end, I can’t help it”, you mutter and he quirks his brows up. “How long have you been relying on this, may I ask?”, he asks waving the box in his hand. “Not your business”, you say, turning away from him, twiddling your hair in between your fingers.

“Means, nearly every day. Am I right? ”, he asks, and you look away trying not to look like a pauper.

“Then you can stop by my house any time you want. It’s nearby”, he says while you push in all the frozen meals in your cart.

“I am not the one to burden anyone”, you mutter under your breath. “Lately, my annoying neighbor has started leaving sweets by the door too. Well, sometimes they aren’t a treat to the tastebuds, but there is way too much that I can’t seem to finish”, he says, walking by your side. Your breathing had visibly taken up speed. “S--So, ask them not to leave them”, you suggested. “I am not the one to pass up free treats”, he says with a bright smile.

As you walk to the counter, he follows you close behind.

“Do we live close to each other?”, he asks and you gulp in your saliva. He had more ravishing raw vegetables and spices in his bag. Maybe he was going to do something good today too.

You notice his eyebrows crinkle when you both get on the same elevator. And he is more certainly shocked when you walk in the same direction. When he realizes that YOU were the annoying neighbor, he was talking about, his face falls. Small Tinkle comes to you when you open the door.

“Missed me?”, you ask her and she purrs. You cradle her to relieve some of the anxiety now that he knows.

“Wait, Y/n, YOU are my neighbor?”, he asks, shock on his face. You nodded again and walked in the door to close it on his face.

He wondered if you already knew that he was the neighbor.

And as it neared 9 PM, the downpour outside, making you crave something warm, you walked into the kitchen to get one of the frozen meals out and microwave it. Just then, there was a knock at the door. You wondered who it could be and walked to it. There stood Harry in all his glory with a casserole. “What happened?”, you asked him, puzzled. “I am really sorry for earlier and as an apology, I thought I could leave you some mushroom ravioli. I have extra, so…”, he trailed off, biting his bottom lip as you smiled.

“It’s alright.”, you said as you let him in. “I was wondering if you were vegan or not. I was even contemplating if you were allergic to mushrooms, but, I didn’t really have much time, so, I hope you understand”, he smiled at you again.

“Thank you”, you smiled at him through your glasses.

“And the next time you are starving, don’t go to frozen meals, you can ask me instead. I make extra for my roommate and sometimes he isn’t around, so…”, you wondered what his obsession was with leaving sentences open.

“I get it”, you mutter.

You wanted to ask him to eat with you, but maybe if there was a chance of a next time, then. Because today, was eventful.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harrystylesoneshot #harry styles oneshot #harrystylesfanfiction #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles #i absolutely hate it #harrystylesfluff #harry styles daily #harry styles

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

Text

something part 3--calum hood

A/N: This is it! The final piece! Thank you for bearing with me while I took you on this rollercoaster of emotions and for being so kind while I took my break. Much love💕

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: drinking, mentions of smoking weed, dealing with heartbreak, sexual situations

Part one || Part two

***

Five months have gone by and Calum tried to push the idea to publicly date Missy away as best he could. The guys even tried to help, but inevitably he was forced to say yes. Calum’s reading over the itinerary he and Missy have to follow over his morning coffee. He takes a sip remembering when she was brought in to discuss the arrangements. It was the Monday following the best and worst weekend of his life with Y/N.

Calum’s body language is screaming ‘leave me the fuck alone I’m pissed’ as he sits slouched in the chair, arms folded against his chest and his hands in fists. His facial expression mirrors a rock, hard and unforgiving as Missy walks in with her manager and the band’s PR liaison. He watches her with hard eyes take a seat next to him, Calum purposely shifts his chair far away from her. She frowns slightly then smiles politely to the rest.

Calum listens as the team discusses the arrangement. How it will benefit both the band and up the ante on her modeling career.

“To be tied with one of the most desirable bachelors will increase magazines wanting to feature you,” Christina the liaison explains excitedly. Calum can’t help but snort.

“Pair her with Styles’ then, he’s more notorious than I am,” Calum grumbles.

“We couldn’t get in contact,” Missy’s manager says, her voice clipped as she narrows her eyes at Calum. “It will boost record sales for your music—”

“And we want the first single to be the love song, ‘Through the Dark.’”

Ashton, Michael, and Luke’s heads whip to Calum who has become even more outraged. It can’t be that song; he wrote that about Y/N.

“With the new romance rumors and the song, it will be a hit in no time, probably surpassing the charts of Ariana Grande and Styles combined.”

“No, we’re not having that be the single,” Ashton tries to dissuade the agreement that neither member of the band was a part of.

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t written about Missy,” Calum says. His voice is as monotonous as his face. From the corner of his eye, he sees Missy look at him with a quizzical look.

“So what? No one will know except the people in this room. The relationship will last about eight months, until the album is officially released, and touring starts. You’ll inevitably break up because Missy will be too busy modeling around the world and you gentleman will also be touring. Everybody wins.”

There’s grumbles amongst the band, Calum’s jaw clicks in anger. He turns his gaze to the window, sees the clouds rolling in as his private life is being scheduled like he’s some sort of robot. He closes his eyes thinking of Y/N, and how she looked in that flower crown and then how she looked with the petals scattered in her hair like she was some type of goddess. Then he sees her with tears in her eyes.

“Calum?”

He opens his eyes and turns at the sound of his name. It’s just him and Missy in the conference room. He’s getting really tired of hearing his name if it’s not from Y/N’s lips. She moves a little closer to him in her chair, an apologetic look on her face.

“Kind of surprised ‘fake dating’ actually happens. I’ve heard rumors and look, they’re true.”

“Imagine that.” He rolls his eyes.

Missy feels the iciness in his tone, and she tries again.

“Look, this is weird for me, too. It was all my manager’s idea which is insulting because if I need a fake boyfriend to get more modeling gigs then her faith in me isn’t all that great. I don’t think of you that way—”

“Your kiss at my party said otherwise.”

“I was drunk, I’ll kiss anyone. And…all right, maybe I did have a crush on but when that girl—”

“Y/N?”

“Right, her. When Y/N showed up and I saw the way you looked at her…I couldn’t compete with that. I don’t want to come between you two.”

“Too late.”

“What happened? Maybe I could talk to her—”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it, Missy, all right? She’s not even talking to me, so I highly doubt she’d talk to you. The woman of my dreams ended things before they even began, and I couldn’t even tell her I love her.”

Missy’s quiet for a moment then offers a kind smile.

“Sounds like you want to talk about it a little….”

He pushes away from the table in a huff then stops with his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll play this act if it helps you in some weird, twisted way but it means nothing to me. We’ll do all the proper pap shots and appearances but no physical contact whatsoever. Those are my limits.”

He storms out as he hears a quiet ‘okay’ and the guys are waiting for him down the hall. They try to reach out for him, but Calum continues walking.

Calum looks down at his notebook, sketches and doodles of flowers are scattered about the page. Their stems and vines looping through the words that are constantly running through his head. He takes a long drink of his coffee, letting the bitterness warm his insides.

After the meeting with management and Missy, Calum called Y/N. He texted her. He knocked on her door. It wasn’t until Crystal told him to give her space did he really back off. He knows Y/N didn’t mean what she said. That night they shared was something special. From how she was so perfect with his untimely manner to how she took care of him while he had allergies from the flowers he picked. And finally, to the way they connected.

The radio in his car is still broken, but he doesn’t listen to music anymore, he can’t because it reminds him of Y/N. Everything reminds him of her.

It’s not like Missy is a bad person. She’s actually become a good friend to Calum and respected his boundaries he set up for their ‘relationship.’ The only touching that happens is by her with her hand holding onto his arm, and even that is just for pictures. No hand holding, no hugs, no kisses.

She’s gaining the hype her manager wanted and Calum has remained off social media as soon as it started. When he’s not rehearsing with the guys or doing PR with Missy, Calum’s secluded himself to his home and music room all while being viewed like a goldfish in a bowl.

So, he writes. He writes about flowers in hair, flowers pressed between bodies and flowers held together by a chain. He also writes about strawberries. He hasn’t eaten one since he kissed her last.

Y/N’s been keeping herself busy, well, as much as she can. Everywhere she goes she’s reminded of Calum. Especially when she opens her closet and sees the small wooden box she placed his bouquet of flowers and flower crown in. She couldn’t find it in herself to throw them away.

That first week after what happened with Calum she spent it crying and listening to sad music. Her heartbreak had her rethink of past moments with Calum. All of the ‘what if’s’ are now ‘will nots.’ Which is way too close to ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ for her liking hidden in the petals of the flowers.

She ignored his calls and texts.

The first time she saw them together was a month after the whole ordeal. She thought she was in a good place and as she was scrolling through Instagram on her lunch break she saw the first picture. Calum and Missy were walking along the pier going in and out of shops. They were wearing sunglasses and Calum didn’t really show much emotion but if he knew paps were around, he never did.

What Y/N zeroed in on was Missy’s hand on Calum’s arm.

Her heart fell into her stomach and she closed the app without even reading the caption. She deleted her Instagram and Twitter apps that day.

When she got home she opened the box of flowers, their scent mixed in with the cedar wood twisted her heart. Very delicately, she lifted the bouquet from the box. Calum’s chain was still wrapped around the now dry, frail stems.

She should throw them out. She almost did. She couldn’t. The dried flowers were the only reminder that what happened between her and Calum was real. That it actually happened. How could she let that go? Even if he was the one that got away and kept getting away?

“You did this Y/N,” she muttered to herself placing the flowers back in the box. “You made him leave before you could get attached.”

The next day there was a knock at her door. Not expecting anyone she peeked through the curtains and saw it was Ashton with a pizza box and a plastic bag.

“Ashton…what are you doing here?” she asks upon opening the door.

“I come bearing gifts of the heartbreak kind,” he grins sheepishly holding up the box and bag.

“Is that a champagne bottle I see in that bag?” she asks seeing the slender neck and gold foiling.

“It is. And caramel ice cream.”

“All right. You can come in,” she allows stepping aside so he can enter.

“So,” he sighs falling heavily against the couch. The pizza box is open on her coffee table, he has a glass of water while Y/N is holding onto the bottle of champagne. His hazel eyes take her in, “how are you?”

“That’s a loaded question,” she scoffs pressing play on the Marvel movie. She decided on Infinity War. “It’s been a month, so you think I’d be okay. I was told that however long you were with someone, that’s how long it takes to get over them divided in half. So, if you’re with someone for a year, you should be over them in six months. Calum and I were…’together’ for a day so it should have been twelve hours, right? But nope.”

She takes a long chug of the champagne until it makes her eyes water from the bubbles. The sweet nectar bites at her tongue and teeth.

“Who told you that math?”

“An old boss of mine,” she shrugs.

“Well, it’s stupid as shit. There’s no time limit for how you fall for someone just as there’s no time limit for you to lose feelings. You have feelings when you have them.”

“We went on one date, Ashton. I shouldn’t be this bent out of shape over that.”

“Hey,” he pinches her shoulder affectionately until she looks at him. His face softens. “You and Calum always had something between you. From an outside perspective, I get why you both danced on that line between friends and something more. You’ve both been hurt and there was always something in the way.”

“Or someone,” her eyes drop at the thought of Missy. Then she thinks of the photo she saw of them and rubs at her eyes, so the tears won’t come.

“My point is,” he stresses grabbing hold of her hand, “you’re allowed to feel hurt and sad and angry.”

“I’m trying so hard to not feel that way all the time, but it…it’s so consuming sometimes.”

“I know. Before you drink the whole bottle, eat some pizza, we’ll watch the movie and we can talk some more, okay?”

About halfway through the movie Y/N’s hugging the ¾ full bottle against her chest as a comfort object. She never drinks her sadness away, she knows how dangerous that is, but it feels nice to have her head not feel so full because all her thoughts are tumbling out to Ashton. His arm is around her shoulders in comfort as she leans into him.

“You always thought there was something between us?” she asks.

“I didn’t think, I knew.”

“What’s the difference?” she stares at him quizzically; the bubbly made his words confusing. Ashton smiled at her response.

“He’d always tell me how he wanted to ask you out. He’d ask if you were coming to any dinner or party we had. But he was scared to ruin your friendship and in my opinion, I think it scared him how close you two got so fast.”

“Hmph,” she slumps against the inside of his arm.

“Your song played while we were driving that night, you know.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“Drive,” she giggles at the comedy of it all. “He gave me wildflowers with his chain around it and bought me a flower crown.”

“It sounds like a great night.”

“It was! But then he got sleepy cause he was allergic to the flowers, then he passed out on me. But I liked it…” she takes the last sip of her champagne then pouts that it’s empty.

“One is enough for you,” Ashton chuckles placing the bottle next to the pizza box. He settles back next to her and they watch the movie for a moment.

“I saw their picture today,” she says somberly. “I know it’s fake. But they’re both a catch…so it’ll be no surprise that it’ll become real.”

“Y/N—”

“It happens all the time Ash,” she shrugs. “I’m the person before everyone’s happy ending.”

“That’s not true. Look at all you and Calum have been through together. This damn arrangement is a roadblock for sure, but you two are the final drive.”

“That…kind of makes sense. I can’t tell,” she shakes her head.

“It’d make sense a full champagne bottle ago,” he mutters but she hears him.

She nudges him in the ribs playfully until they’re both laughing.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she says and moves down the hall.

Ashton checks his phone to see Luke is trying to console Calum, too. It was hard for him to act with Missy today. Luke reports that Calum has had only one drink but is smoking a lot of weed to help clear his head and wants to drive to Y/N’s house.

When Ashton has finished replying to keep an eye on him, Y/N is standing next to the couch. He looks up at her to see she has her arms wrapped around herself, her lower lip caught between her teeth, but he hears the quick gasps of her sobs.

“I really hate this, Ashton.”

“C’mere,” he opens his arms to her and hugs her tightly.

“It’s really hard being lonely.”

She cries into his shirt, finding comfort in his embrace and friendship.

Y/N’s found a good friendship with Max from work. Nothing romantic at all, but he makes sure they do a lot of fun things together. It’s been almost five months since that night with Calum and when Y/N comes across a photo of him and Missy together, Max is there to take her to the beach or a movie to distract her mind.

Now when she sees photos of them it doesn’t make her go in her closet to look at the wilted flowers. It’s still a sting in the thorn of her heart but it’s more bearable. The first single off their new album was ‘Through the Dark’ and it made her cry. Max found her laying on the floor of her room with it playing on a loop, the box of flowers unopened but lying next to her. He laid next to her and held her hand as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She’s meeting up with Max at his place for lunch and she was craving the chicken Caesar sandwich from the bistro on the pier. It wasn’t until she saw her that Y/N remembered this is a favored spot for Calum and Missy to be spotted and there she was. Standing off the side of the counter looking gorgeous in a spring dress.

Y/N tried to keep her head down as she ordered.

“And what’s the name?” the cashier asks.

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Y/N? Oh, it is you!” Missy says suddenly next to her.

“Got it this time, thanks. We’ll call you when your food’s ready.”

“Thanks,” Y/N mutters. She takes a deep breath and turns to Missy. “Hi.” She looks around the shop expecting to see Calum and trying to prepare herself to come face to face with him.

“He’s not here,” Missy says quietly glancing around the shop as well then grabs Y/N’s wrist pulling her to the far end of the sandwich showcase. “He’d actually hate me for even talking about this…and to you but…I’m so sorry. For everything. My manager came up with this PR stunt.”

“You don’t have to explain, I get it’s for publicity,” Y/N tries to get away from this situation as quickly as possible while also keeping herself together. Her neck is warm, and her breathing has accelerated in a slight panic.

Missy grabs her wrist again but pulls her into the women’s bathroom. Y/N’s affronted at the boldness of Missy’s actions.

“It is all publicity, I swear! I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Calum but he’s miserable. We’re friends now and all he talks about is you. How funny you are and kind you are. He really misses you,” Missy continues with a frown.

Y/N sighs. She really does seem nice but she’s still keeping her guard up. How could she not?

“He really cares about you, Y/N.” Missy stresses squeezing Y/N’s hand for emphasis.

“Missy, look. I appreciate you telling me all this. You… you actually seem really nice and genuine which makes it that much harder for me to dislike you.”

“I get that,” Missy nods her head, “but he really, really cares about you.” Her eyes grow bigger each time she said really, and Y/N gives her a confused look.

“Yeah…you um…you said that?”

“No, he…ugh he’s going to hate me, but he loves you. ‘Through the Dark is about you. He told me you’re the girl of his dreams when we met the Monday after his party. I’ve felt horrible all this time.”

Y/N stares at Missy while she processes what she just heard.

“When did he tell you that again?”

“His party was Friday, and we met that Monday to discuss the logistics of this stupid ploy. Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for kissing him in front of you! I was drunk, I’ll kiss anyone, and I told him I did have a small crush on him but when I saw the way he looked at you it went away. I swear!”

“He really said he loves me?”

“Yes! When we’re not out getting photographed he’s always writing in his notebook and drawing flowers in it. Not that I’ve read anything,” Missy adds in a rush. “It’s just over his shoulder I saw it a couple times before he closed it.”

“Yeah but that was months ago, I’m sure he��s already caught feelings for you.”

“No, he hasn’t. Trust me. He’s become more like a brother to me, honest. I’ve been trying to force him to talk to you and our ‘contract’ is up in a few months anyway for the album release. I want to break if off early publicly so you can finally be together but he’s so stubborn he won’t.”

Y/N laughs lightly at how fast Missy talks. She’s not sure if it’s out of keeping this all to herself for so long or if that’s really how she is, talking a mile a minute.

“Thank you for telling me this, Missy. I…I can’t believe I’m telling you this since we don’t really know each other but I love him, too. I’ve loved him for so long but I’m the one who pushed him away. I’m the one who told him to do this deal with you because he and I only had one night together,” Y/N explains.

Missy’s eyes widen and she squeals in joy. “You love him too?! Oh, this is great. I’ll arrange for you two to meet up and—”

“Missy, Missy! No, no don’t do that. It’s been too long,” Y/N shrugs. “I doubt he’d want to see me.”

Missy plants her feet on the ground firmly, her face turning very serious very fast. Y/N’s a little taken aback at the fierceness in her gaze.

“Do you want to be with him?” she asks.

“Um..yes.”

“And you love him?”

“Yeah…”

“Then let me help you fix this, please. It’s the least I can do for coming between you when it wasn’t my plan to do so in the first place.”

Y/N takes a deep breath. She’s really starting to like Missy; she has a good heart.

“Okay. How can you help?”

“They’re all planning to go to the Invisible House for a week. I can’t go because I have a shoot to do in New York, but Ashton told me that Calum will be there a couple days before they all arrive.”

Y/N mulls it over, her mind thinking of ways to make it up to him. To apologize. To make him realize how sorry she is and how special he is to her. That despite all the hurdles and messes they’ve been through, that something they have is meaningful.

Then, she gets the perfect idea.

“Do you know when he’s going to be there?” Y/N asks and Missy smiles.

“I know all the details, Y/N.”

The drive to the Invisible House is pretty boring without his radio working so he hums to himself as he drives. Calum’s glad he decided to head there a few days before the rest of the group shows up. The pictures are immaculate and he’s excited to try out the hundred-foot pool.

He texted Missy when he was leaving, and she responded with an encouraging text in return.

‘Have fun! Let me know how everything goes 😉’

He’s confused by the winky face but appreciates it all the same. He’s glad to have her as a friend.

When he arrives at the building it’s dusk, the stars are just dusting the sky and the house is a glowing violet in the desert air. He stares at it for a moment, taking in the beauty of the panes of glass, breathing in the cool desert night. If they were all here a year ago maybe Red Desert would have been Purple Desert.

He shakes his head in disbelief. He’s starting to sound like Luke.

He grabs his belongings, two suitcases and a duffel bag and makes his way to the entrance. Ashton and Michael will be bringing the instruments for a jam session, so he didn’t pack his bass.

Once the door is unlocked, he’s mesmerized by the space before he hears music playing. Was that supposed to be playing? He sets his things by the counter and walks further in. The pool is lit up in a light blue and purple with glowing white lotus flowers floating on the water.

There’s flower petals beneath his feet as he walks the length of the pool. It’s a sweet aroma that fills his nose. Then he panics and thinks Michael has this set up for Crystal. He does not want to walk in on them having a private moment, but that’s hard to do in a glass house.

When he’s at the halfway point of the pool, the soft music becomes a bit louder and he recognizes the drum and guitar chords of Something by The Beatles. His mouth goes dry as he comes to the living area at the end of the pool to where Y/N is standing.

There’s petals on the carpet and she’s holding a white flower in her palm with a flower crown on her head. He’s at a loss for words.

“Hi,” she welcomes quietly.

“Hi…what are you doing here?” he wishes he didn’t ask such a dumb question.

“I should have rehearsed this beforehand what I wanted to say but I had to make sure this was all perfect before you got here. Um, I’m here for you. I know it’s been so long, and this is all my fault in the first place. Pushing you away and I thought I was protecting myself.”

She takes a step forward.

“I’ve been a mess without you, Cal. I miss you, so much it hurts. I think of you all the time, and that night we spent together. Your necklace is still wrapped around the flowers you gave me and that’s what made me think of doing this,” she gestures to her flowers on display all around. She takes another step forward. Closer to the step of the living area, closer to Calum.

“We’ve had our fair share of messes with each other. And it’s my fault for the last one so it’s my responsibility to rectify it. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, how much that night meant to me.”

Another step forward and Calum is reminded of that night in his room. How he came to her, now he’s the one on the receiving end. He watches her with bated breath, and he knows she’s nervous (like he is) by the way she’s playing with the white flower in her hand.

“And the more I thought about the messes we’ve been through it made me think of the Lotus flower. It grows through the mud but when it breaks through, it’s this vibrant and full flower,” she takes two steps and is right at the edge of the step. She holds up the flower.

“And it’s like we’re the flower. We’re growing through the mud and I called it quits before we really bloomed. And…” she takes a shaky breath then laughs nervously, “this sounded romantic in my head but now it sounds super cheesy. But when I heard you were drawing flowers it made me feel like we were still connected.”

She doesn’t say anything more and neither does Calum. Then, when she looks up at him it all makes sense. What they’ve been through these last several months, that was their mud.

“Can you say something?” she whispers, “I’m starting to feel like an idiot and that this was a really stupid idea—”

He lifts her up to his level connecting their lips together. He brings her against him, and she wraps her arms around his neck, their lips getting reacquainted with each other. She tastes like strawberries and smells of flowers and he’s filled with bliss. He feels whole again.

“I love you,” he gasps when they pause to catch their breath. “I should have said it months ago, but I was scared. I thought it was too soon.”

“I love you, too. I’m so sorry for what I said that day. I wish I didn’t—”

He silences her with another kiss.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I understand why you did it, sweetheart,” he cups her cheek and gazes into her eyes. “I shouldn’t have walked away like I did.”

“We really are a mess,” she laughs brushing his curls from his face.

“A beautiful mess,” he corrects sucking a kiss from her lips then holds her against him in a tight hug. He never wants to let go.

“Was this too much?” she asks moments later.

“No, it was perfect, thank you for doing all of this for me. I’ll be honest,” he stands up straight to look at her, “I thought I was walking in on Michael and Crystal.”

Y/N laughs and continues laughing until Calum kisses her and she’s left gasping.

“How about we try out the pool?” he mumbles.

They spend a good forty-five minutes in the pool. Soft touches and kisses are exchanged until they reconnect as one. They’re surrounded by the glowing flowers and the ripples they create from their movements. Words of love are spoken and moaned, echoing throughout the space.

They transition to the bed that is also covered in flower petals. Calum kisses down the length of her body, his lips ghosting over her core. Their eyes lock as he attaches his mouth between her folds, his tongue swirling around her bud.

Her legs squeeze around his head on their own accord as she’s vibrating with pleasure. The moans are continuous as he works her over into her second orgasm of the night. When it surpasses, she’s giggling quietly as Calum peppers kisses to her thighs.

“Wow…”

“That good, huh?” he remarks, his lips smacking against her skin bounce off the walls.

“Yeah but…” she rises up on her elbows to look down at him. “Is that all you got? You told me you’d make me cum eight times when we were in your bathroom. Or was that just talk?”

“Oh, you want to be a little sass, huh?” he bites down on the fleshy part of her thigh. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” she smirks.

“Because now I’m going to make you cum ten times.”

“Okay, Cal, I was just jo—OH!” She falls back against the bed as she’s already filled with intense pleasure.

Suffice it to say, Calum did make her cum nine more times. The overstimulation and her noises got him riled up and he had to be close to her again. He made love to her slowly and tenderly. He gave her gentle kisses and she molded to him.

Before she fell asleep he was stroking her face after she drank some water, he really exhausted her.

“How did you know I was going to be here?”

“I ran into Missy at the bistro I love. She explained everything,” she replies sleepily. She’s struggling to keep her eyes open. “I like her, she’s nice.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I think she and Max would get along,” she yawns snuggling closer to him.

“I’ll take your word for it. You can go to sleep you know.”

“I want to keep talking to you,” she squeezes his lower back.

“We can talk all day tomorrow. And tomorrow night. And the next day, and the next…”

“Mmm, that sounds nice,” she smiles closing her eyes. “I love you, Cal.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Two days later the rest of the group arrived, and it was a happy albeit awkward reunion because Calum and Y/N were still naked in bed. They spent their time eating, watching movies, and having sex as much as they wanted. It was perfect but also took a lot out of them.

They were both fast asleep until their names were shouted, and Calum scrambled to cover Y/N up.

“I’m glad to see you, Y/N but I’ll hold off on the hug until you aren’t naked with Cal,” Luke laughs.

“We’ll go bring in the rest of the stuff,” Ashton giggles then winks at Y/N.

“Please tell me this was the only place you had sex,” Michael asks peering at them both with narrow eyes.

“Umm…”

“Ugh!” Michael throws his hands in the air. “You guys better not have left messes anywhere!” he complains walking back towards the main kitchen area.

Calum looks over the wall separating their ‘room’ from the rest of the house and turns to her.

“We’re done with messes, yeah?” Calum grins down at her and she nods bringing his face closer to hers.

“Something great came from the mess,” she agrees and slots her lips with his. They’ll have to be super quiet now.

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @haikucal @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @superbloomed-c @littledrummeraussie @sexgodashton

#calum hood oneshot #calum hood angst #calum angst #calum hood smut #calum smut #calum 5sos writing #calum writing #5sos writing #calum hood 5sos #calum fic #5soso fic #calum hood fic

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eberles · 4 years ago

Text

After He Cheats

Mat Barzal

Request: ummmm can you write something angst for mat barzal??? love you!!

A/N: hiii, i hope you like this!! there’s no happy ending i’m sorry in advance!

Warnings: cheating relationship, angst, swearing

The pictures were everywhere, on every social media platform you were a part of and you felt like you couldn't escape them. But you also couldn't stop looking at them as much as it hurt, you wanted to memorize every single detail on these pictures to try and understand why. All you friends were texting him and even a few of his friends too, but you ignored all of them and only after what felt like hours of looking at these pictures, he called you.

“Hello?” you answered with a shaky voice and immediately regretted your choice when you heard him on the other end. You could picture his broken, sad face on the other end of the phone and it only made you more angry.

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like.” Mat whispered into the phone and you shook your head before scoffing and hanging up the phone, letting the tears finally flow down your face. You opened up instagram again looking at the multiple pictures of Mat and a beautiful blonde kissing in the hotel lobby, in the parking lot, on what looks like a dinner date. This wasn’t the first time Mat had cheated on you, but he promised it was a one time thing and that you had nothing to worry about. You felt pathetic for believing him and staying with him especially when your friends and family warned you about him.

please answer me

i love you

it was an accident

she doesn't mean anything to me

The repetitive texts came rolling in and you were stuck in your position sitting on your living room floor, switching your phone screen between your boyfriends texts and the pictures of him. You declined the rest of his phone calls for the remainder of the night knowing that he would be home tomorrow to “explain himself.” You weren’t going to let him manipulate you this time, it was his fault and he did do it on purpose. He did.

**********************************************************

just landed, i’ll be home in 30

i love you

By the time Mat texted you telling you he was on his way home, you had most of your clothes and a few other things you had around the apartment packed. You stopped crying hours ago and your whole body felt numb at this point, you were just exhausted. Exhausted of being lied to, exhausted of letting your boyfriend walk all over you. You heard the front door open and close bracing yourself as you heard Mat’s footsteps running up the stairs.

“Hi.” Mat spoke hesitantly walking into your bedroom and you looked over, forcing yourself to smile at him.

“Hi.” you said before walking into your bathroom with a small bag to put away your toiletries, Mat following closely behind you.

“What are you doing? Don’t do this.” Mat begged, eyes wide watching you move around the bathroom grabbing all your shower stuff.

“You did this, Mat. Why are you surprised? Isn’t this what you wanted?” you asked, turning around to look at him, a spiteful smile on your face. “What did you think would happen?”

“It got out of hand, I swear. You have to believe me. This is not what I wanted.” Mat defended himself and you rolled your eyes, leaning against the sink in the bathroom to look at him.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore, Mat. We’re done. I’m done.”

“What can I do?” Mat grabbed your hands, pulling them to his chest. You didn’t move them away, letting yourself touch him one last time.

“Did you have sex with her?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it. Mat didn't though, instead he put his head down and kissed the tops of your hands multiple times while repeatedly saying “sorry.” “You know, I could understand meeting up with an old friend and having dinner and I could even understand an accidental kiss, but I cannot understand how you can try to call sleeping with someone else an accident?”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could take it back but I can’t. We can move past this though, together.”

“No, we can’t.” you said, ripping your hands from Mat’s grasp and walking past him.

“You don’t even care, do you?” Mat followed you back into the bedroom and you laughed at his question.

“Of course I do, but i’m done fucking crying over you.” you zipped up your last bag, throwing them both over your shoulder and walking towards the door and turning around to look back at him. “Goodbye, Mat.”

The following weeks were hard for you and a few times you wondered how Mat was doing and if you should check on him. You forced him out of your thoughts and it took everything in you, blocking his phone number helped because his multiple attempts at contacting you were a little too much for you to handle. You didn’t want Mat to be in pain, but after coming across newer pictures of him and his blonde you couldn’t help but wish she would do the same to him just so he would know how it feels.

**********************************************************

A year has passed since your break up with Mat and you couldn’t be more happy. Mat didn’t randomly appear in your thoughts anymore and when you came across a picture of him your heart didn’t ache anymore. You never moved out of the city, but seeing him in the grocery store exactly a year after you left him was not what you expected.

“Y/N, hey.” Mat said, his carriage bumping into yours in the pasta aisle. You looked up at him in complete shock, but with a genuine smile on your face.

“Oh my god! Mat hi, how are you?” the two of you stepped out of the way of other customers in the store and continued your small talk.

“Honestly, i’m really happy. I’m gonna propose soon, I think i’m finally ready for that step ya know?” Mat spoke, and his face showed the biggest, happiest smile you may have ever seen on him.

“That’s great! I’m happy for you.” The two of you said your goodbye’s and you watched as Mat walked away, not being able to help the slight anger bubbling up inside of you. You just hoped he spends his last dime to put a rock on her hand.

**********************************************************

Another year has passed since your break up with Mat and since you had last seen him that day in the grocery store. You could confidently say that seeing Mat a year ago had not affected you one bit, and you hadn’t thought about him since that day. At first you were angry that Mat was able to propose to the blonde after only a year, but it just reminded you of how lucky you were to be rid of him. After leaving the grocery store a year ago, you stopped into your favorite coffee shop and met your now boyfriend, Tyler.

The two of you were currently celebrating your one year anniversary of meeting, even though your actual anniversary was still 2 months away. You were sitting at a corner table in the coffee shop, laughing and enjoying each other’s presence when you saw Mat walk through the front door with Tito. After they ordered their coffee and found a table to sit at, Mat spotted you and waved you over to him.

“This is going to be an every year occurrence isn't it?” you joked, saying hi to Mat and Tito.

“I guess so, how are you?” Mat asked, looking over at your boyfriend at the table behind you.

“I’m great! That’s Tyler, my boyfriend. How are you?” you asked, smiling down at Mat from your standing position.

“I could be better. She um, she cheated on me so.” Mat shrugged, a small frown on his face and you forced your happy attitude down for the sake of his feelings.

“Oh i’m sorry.” you said awkwardly, continuing small talk before saying bye to Mat and making your way back to Tyler, knowing that Mat’s eyes were following your every move and watching as you greeted your boyfriend with a kiss.

“I love you.” you said to Tyler, after sitting down earning a cheeky smile from him, as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“I love you more.”

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

taglist: @sortagaysortahigh @sweeterthansammy @butgilinsky @kiedhara @taiter-tots @jjmaybanksbaby @jamiedrysdales @ana-maa @iamtheblondestblonde @elitebarzal @bestestbenn

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #new york islanders #new york isles #nhl writing

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ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Seven

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: so this chapter doesn't exactly have a hay bale maze but it has something even better :)

***

Being a legal consultant is surprisingly easy.

Years of studying business law in order to take down big corporations in the courtroom is now being used to help a big corporation— Nesta wants to be disgusted at the state of her morals. Fortunately for her, all the issues that have come across her desk so far are minor negotiation matters. The way Night Court Inc. is run is virtually perfect, and she almost hopes a blatant lawsuit drops into her lap just so she can give Rhysand and his sycophantic workers hell.

Though Nesta knows better than to dream big. This is essentially busy work that Night Court’s actual lawyers don't have time to do, but she's grateful for it either way. She's grateful for the man who got her this job even more.

When her car finally gets back from the auto shop one sunny November morning, Cassian suggests they go out to celebrate.

“Celebrate what?” Nesta says. “Not having to rely on you for rides anymore?”

“Exactly that.” Cassian grins and leans his elbow against the kitchen counter. “There’s a fall festival an hour north of here that pops up every year. There's good food and hot cider. Let’s go.” He nudges her excitedly.

Nesta narrows her eyes at him. “You’ve been planning this,” she accuses.

“I go every year,” he shrugs. “Come on, we have the whole day ahead of us.”

He makes pleading puppy eyes that have absolutely no effect on Nesta, but she doesn't want to hurt his ego by letting him know that.

There is nothing appealing to her about going out into the cold and doing autumn-related activities, so she surprises herself and Cassian both when she agrees to go. He rewards her with a wide smile and tells her to get ready.

Nesta feels oddly giddy afterward. She can't recognize the feeling, so she tamps down on it while she gets dressed and braids her hair.

Outside, her burgeoning smile drops when she sees Cassian getting the truck started. “I thought the point of this was that we could use my car now.” She gestures to her beat up blue sedan, a sad little thing parked next to Cassian’s fancy truck.

“Nes, if I thought your car could go anywhere near a mountain road without falling to pieces, I would get in it without hesitation.”

It's as close to apologetic sympathy as she’ll get from him, so she only grumbles a little before climbing into the passenger seat she's gotten all too familiar with.

The door slams as Cassian gets in the driver’s seat, and something on the dashboard catches Nesta’s attention. Reaching out, she picks up one of her coloring books and her zipper bag full of markers and pencils.

She glances at Cassian. “Is this for me?”

He looks up from where he’s buckling his seatbelt. “Oh, I just picked it up on my way out. Cell signal gets spotty the closer we get to the mountains, so you might get bored.”

Nesta looks down at the coloring book she's clutching, surprised.

“Did you want anything else before we leave?” Cassian says. “I can run inside and pick up some books.”

“No— no, this is good,” she says softly. She flips the page open to a fresh landscape scene, black on white lines staring back at her. “Thank you.”

She unzips her pencil bag with a new reverence, barely noticing as they pull out of the driveway and head for the highway leading out of town.

Nesta is intent on her coloring the entire ride, falling far too easily into that little bubble of her own mind where she forgets that other things and people exist. Cassian, unlike most people, doesn't seem to mind this. He's content with driving in the quiet, the only sound the soft crackle of the radio and the scratch of Nesta’s pencils.

She’s trying to get the blue shades of the lake just right when she feels the truck start to slow, and she looks up to see that they're in some kind of parking lot. Ahead, a market-carnival setup sits at the base of the mountains, and it sprawls as far as her eyes can see. “We’re here already?”

“Yeah.” Cassian glances at her hesitantly. “Is it lame?” He gestures to the autumn-themed affair, as if he’ll turn around and drive them right back home if it isn't to Nesta’s liking.

Nesta can’t pay the festival any attention yet. “I’m not done with this picture yet,” she says simply. She holds it up for Cassian to see, even though he probably can't tell that the mostly-completed picture is still missing a couple of details.

He just says, “We’ll wait till you're finished, then.”

She brightens with relief, and takes her time adjusting the colors of the landscape to her liking. As soon as she's satisfied with what she has, though, she throws her pencils and book down like they're on fire and grabs her coat. “Let's go,” she demands.

If Cassian is surprised at her sudden change of pace, he hides it well and follows Nesta onto the fairground. “Slow down,” he calls for her.

Perhaps the fall season isn't terrible, Nesta thinks as they buy warm candied apples. The air smells nice and the weather is brisk and Cassian stands so close to her that she never quite gets cold.

It feels almost like a date.

Nesta glances at Cassian from the corner of her eye as she chews on her apple. Wind ruffles his hair and his brown cheeks are flushed red, but he looks content. It's too bad they're just friends, because this would have been a nice date.

She has to stop her train of thought before she gets distracted by how Cassian’s hand isn't holding anything, and how her hand isn't holding anything, and maybe their hands should—

She makes a fist with her free hand and shoves it into her coat pocket. This is why she doesn't usually have friends, she remembers— because she can never stop hungering for more.

Nesta and Cassian’s not-date is spent with Cassian throwing his money at every other thing he sees on sale, and Nesta biting her tongue at the unnecessary waste of it all.

“Eight dollars for a cup of cider? Come on, you're being scammed.” Nesta pulls at his elbow, trying to lead him away from the drinks stand.

“But it comes in one of those cute little jars,” Cassian protests as he’s pulled away.

There’s a laughably small hay-bale maze that they complete in less than three minutes, thanks to Cassian being tall enough to see over the hay bales. Then there’s a ferris wheel that Nesta adamantly refuses to get onto, regardless of how high it goes or not. And then, without either of them noticing, the sun starts slipping behind the mountains.

With her arms full of bags of snacks and random knickknacks that she’ll never need in her life, Nesta finds herself back in the market area.

There’s a painting at an art stand that has caught her attention. Something about the brush strokes and choice of color palette… it reminds her of Feyre’s art style. Amateur, but warm and comforting, clearly made with love and dedication. She approaches the elder salesman carefully, only wanting a closer look at the piece.

It’s of a glittering forest in the peak of autumn, ruby and flame-colored leaves littering the scene. An unwalked pathway cuts through the scene, and a longing Nesta can’t place swells in her stomach.

“My daughter painted this one,” the salesman says to her, pride peeking through his voice. She glances up at the kind-faced man. “Only this one?” she asks. The rest of the paintings don’t have the same art style, Feyre’s style.

“Yes.” He places a protective hand over the canvas. “She’s still learning, but she’s got heart and potential. One day she’ll be a better artist than me.”

Nesta blinks at his words. “How much is it?”

“How much do you have?”

She looks down at her hands full of shopping bags and realizes not one of them is carrying her wallet. “Oh, I must have left my money with my—” She glances up then and looks around. “Cassian?”

He was just here with her. They were walking together and she took note of the pretty fairy lights that were starting to turn on, and then she saw the art stand. She scans the milling crowd for a glimpse of his face, but it’s five p.m. and fully dark now.

Unease starts to pump in her chest. “Cassian?” she calls again. She wanders away from the art stand, painting and salesman forgotten. Maneuvering her full hands, she wrangles her phone out of her back pocket and turns it on. Just as she suspected— no signal. Waving it high in the air doesn’t do much for her either.

Shoving her phone back in her pocket, Nesta takes a strained breath and resolves to keep looking. If she can’t find him, she can always make her way back to the parking lot—

Something shoves hard into Nesta’s back, and her glasses slip right off her nose in the collision. She feels a metallic crunch under her boot and gasps. Suddenly there are people everywhere, heading in the opposite direction that she is, and whoever bumped into her yells a quick apology that gets lost in the crush of bodies.

Nesta stumbles out of the crowd, blinking quickly. She can’t see a thing, and the fairy lights are now blurry orbs. “My glasses—” she says to nobody. She scans the flattened grass and dirt furiously, squinting until she gets a headache, but she can’t find them. “Shit.”

She ends up roaming out of the market area, finding herself back on the fairgrounds. There are a few tents around her, but they're empty and the noise has died down. She doesn’t know where she’s going.

At one point, Nesta simply drops her bags and keeps walking without them. She barely notices leaving them behind. The magic has drained out of the festival, and she just wants to find her way back to Cassian’s truck. If the ferris wheel is that way, then the exit should be that way… she thinks.

She looks around in the dark, frustrated tears rising at her inability to recognize anything. She's alone. She’s cold. She was abandoned.

Nesta doesn't know how long she stands there, hopeless in some deserted corner of the fairgrounds. She forgets what she's supposed to be doing, and just stands there staring at nothing. Escaping to a numbing void in her mind.

The desperate call of her name brings her back to earth.

Blinking, Nesta turns around to find a tall figure heading towards her. Cassian.

He’s holding something in his hand, she can tell, but he drops it when he sees her face and breaks into a run.

“Nesta!” Hard warmth crashes into her as strong arms grab her and yank her close. Her face presses into his chest, and hot tears fall despite the lingering numbness.

“Where did you go?” Cassian is demanding. “You had me so fucking scared—”

“I lost my glasses,” she says weakly into the wool of his coat.

“I know.” He goes from stroking her back to clutching her face. His thumbs rub at the wetness beneath her eyes, and finally she can see his face. He’s close enough that she can read every detail, their foreheads pressed tightly together. He isn't letting go.

She presses her lips together. “I lost you.”

“I know.”

In the next moment, Nesta feels everything all at once: Cassian’s heavy breath on her face, his fingers digging into her scalp, his hazel eyes looking relieved and apologetic and terrified at the same time. His heartbeat racing beneath her hands.

For the briefest eternity, Nesta and Cassian share the same mind. They are thinking the exact same thing.

There’s a moment of painful hesitation, where Nesta has the opportunity to pull away. She doesn't take it, and by then it's too late— Cassian’s mouth is on hers.

Oh. Oh.

Nesta buckles a little under the weight of his kiss, but he holds her upright with his grip. His fingers wind so tightly into her braid she worries he might undo the whole thing, but then she's tucking her cold hands into the warmth of his sweater and wow, what a wonderful end to a terrible night.

His lips break from hers for a breath, only to come in again and kiss her deeper this time. A helpless noise escapes from one or both of them. She’s unraveling with every stroke of his tongue, and she thinks distantly that if kisses were flavored, this one would be sweet enough to make her teeth ache.

It's over far too soon, with Cassian’s series of kisses slowing until they stop completely. He pulls back far enough that they both have room to breathe, and with oxygen comes sharp reality.

For once, Nesta has no words. Her thought process is a tape jammed on a few moments ago, so Cassian is the one that has to slowly drop his hands from her hair and clear his throat.

“Let's go home,” is all he says.

***

The drive back to the cabin is silent. Nesta puts her earbuds in and turns on music as soon as they get in the truck, and halfway home Cassian glances over and realizes she's fallen asleep.

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and it's a struggle to keep his eyes on the headlight-lit road ahead.

Losing track of Nesta with no way to contact her was one thing, but nothing scared Cassian more than when his eyes caught the metallic glint of broken gold rims in the trampled dirt of the marketplace.

After running from stall to stall searching for Nesta, only one man was able to give Cassian a straight answer. “She was looking at some art and then she went that way,” the old salesman pointed. “She seemed upset; I think she was looking for you.”

The pieces of Nesta's glasses sit in a bag in the backseat now, tucked alongside a canvas painting of an autumn landscape.

The relief Cassian felt when he found her in one piece, when she turned to him with the saddest eyes— he was more cemented in his feelings for her in that moment than in any late night he’d spent dreaming about her.

And when she looked at him like that, fighting not to cry… it was over for him. Weeks of restraint that he hadn't even noticed building up snapped at the last second, until he was kissing Nesta like it was his final dying wish. All of it, utterly over.

He glances over to her now, where she sleeps with her head against the fogged window, exhausted after the day she's had. His hands twitch with the temptation to reach out and touch her.

Gravel crunches as Cassian pulls up into the driveway, and he looks at Nesta again and sighs. He almost goes to wake her, but changes his mind at the last moment and gets out of the car instead. Circling around to the passenger side, he opens the door and carefully lifts her out of her seat.

Her head lolls against his chest, but she doesn't wake. Stress and high emotions have no doubt knocked her out for the rest of the night.

Realizing there's no way to unlock the front door while holding Nesta, Cassian has to circle around to the back of the cabin, entering through the open kitchen door and carrying her on silent feet up the stairs.

Once she's safely tucked in her bed, Cassian can relax his shoulders for the first time all night. Later, he sits down in the half-lit kitchen with Nesta’s broken glasses before him. The frame is split right down the middle, but he already knows Nesta won't allow him to get her a new pair. He’ll need wire and some pliers.

Tying his hair back, he settles down and gets to work.

***

a/n: i'm trying to apologize less for my work but this chapter is not only short and late but also super iffy in terms of writing quality 🥴 so im sorry. if my secret snowflake gift has anything to do with it part 8 will also be a little late (i'm looking for balance guys i really am).

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

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bangtanshomura · 3 years ago

Text

PINK | 2/? | pjm

summary: A neighbor as pink and hopelessly romantic as you and an equally pink neighbor like Jimin (but without a thing or two in common), sounds almost perfect together, right?. The only problem? That you are madly in love with him but his tonalities are very different from yours.

pairing: park jimin x female reader.

genre: fluff, angst, (maybe in the future a little of smut? not so sure).

word count: 1992

warning: unrequited love, pinning, so much embarrassment, a looooot of pink hehe, hurt, some mxm with ot7, you know…it happens sometimes.

------

Pink, 'cause you are so very

“Sup with the face, sugar?” Seokjin’s voice pulls you back to reality. Or maybe was Jimin’s text.

“Jimin asked me if he should go on a date with the pretty girl of the coffee shop across the street”

“You are a pretty girl” He points you with a finger, looking at you harshly. “And Jimin always says stupid things, so please, don’t overthink this”

“But I'm not the pretty girl he would consider asking out on a date” your voice is almost a whisper, so genuinely hurt that Seokjin can't help the tug at his heart.

“Well, his loss, I’m telling you” He scoffs “He will see you someday—” Tucks a lock of hair behind your ear with an affectionate smile. “ like, really see you. And I hope it's not too late when that happens”

Everyone knows what a wonderful person you are, including Park Jimin.

The only person who apparently lacks this information is you.

And it's not that Seokjin has any feelings of hatred and contempt towards the now black-haired boy; but he didn’t appreciate the way he lured you to him and then pushed you away.

Actually, even if Namjoon thinks otherwise, he is absolutely certain that there is some reason why Jimin's colors look somewhat... dull.

There must be a reason why despite the subtle -quite obvious in Seokjin's opinion- attraction Jimin feels for you, he doesn't let it develop but also doesn't let it stop.

Seokjin just knows it's like that, it's a feeling,

“I love you so much Jinnie, but I don't want to talk about this anymore” You leave a small kiss in his cheek before you continue talking. “Are you coming for some unhealthy dinner tonight?”

“You know that we will, baby” The wink it throws at you makes you giggle “Namjoon will pick us up ten minutes before we close the store, safety an all, you know my man” You both laugh a little. “Any suggestions?”

“I'm craving a cheeseburger from McDonald’s”

“A cheeseburger from McDonald's will be” It’s a reality, they don’t know how to say no to you. And they don’t want to. “Now, help me with this arrangement, I have never met a bride as demanding as this girl. I swear”

______

"Just when I think you can't get any more idiotic, you come along and surprise me Jimin."

Yoongi’s raspy voice makes him roll his eyes.

“What are you talking about now?”

“You know what. Don’t play dumb with me” He signals his phone with a movement of the head and scolds him with his eyes. Translation: He read the messages. “You can’t keep doing this to her.”

Jimin looked out the window again, exchanging glances with the barista who batted her eyelashes flirtatiously, gifting him a smile that he returned with a smaller one of his own.

She's pretty, he had to admit that. But neither her flirtatious smile nor her long, stylish hair, managed to provoke anything in him.

Not like his small, pink, innocent neighbor.

A sigh left his lips and he returned his gaze to his phone.

“I know”

______

“Are we hungry or what?”

Namjoon enters the shop with his extra-large arms extended, prepare to wrap you two in a bear hug.

“We are always hungry; you already know that hun”

Seokjin takes his face in between his hands with so much delicacy that you want to cry but instead you fake a gagging noise that makes them chuckle and you smile fondly to the presence of their love.

“Let’s go before you suffocate me with so much PDA” You give them a weak smile walking towards the entrance, in a crestfallen manner.

The taller one knows there is something in your voice that doesn't fit the facade you want to sell him, so, he looks to his boyfriend direction with a raised brow and an interrogation mark painted on its face.

His boyfriend answers him with a silent lip movement, a name, clarifying the situation.

Of course, it had to be.

“I cross paths with Jungkook this morning”

“Really? How is he?” Your question doesn’t come as curious as his want’s to, but he keeps anyways.

“You know, hotter than before” Seokjin watches him curious while locking the gate of the flower shop, eyebrow arching and he clarifies his voice. “I might have invited him to dinner today”

Okay, he may not have invited him, but they did crossed paths in a convenience store while the younger one was carrying a bag full of banana milk.

But he will.

“…You did?”

The hesitation in your voice gives him a push.

“Yeah, I mean, is it wrong?”

————

You should have known.

How is it possible that a specimen like Jeon Jungkook exists and on top of that, he is single.

Damn Kim Namjoon and damn his twisted plan or whatever that goes through his prodigy brain.

“You could have warned me that he looked like that!”

“Boring” Namjoon prolonged the ‘o’ “I don’t see what’s wrong. He is hot, you are hot, he is single, you are single. A win-win situation if you ask me”.

“But I didn’t”.

“Irrelevant. We are having an amazing night y/n. You know that I’m not going to force you on a date with Jungkook but I want you to enjoy this moment with me, with us”.

“I am enjoying the moment, excuse you” You murmur.

“No your not. You think that I didn’t see the sadness in your eyes?”

“Nam…”

“No baby, not today” He takes a deep breath and looks at you with so much love and concern. “Please”

Deep inside, you know he is right, that you need a night of rest from the problem in your heart that has Park Jimin as its name.

Jungkook is funny, sweet, attentive and Namjoon isn't lying when he says the four of you are having a spectacular night.

You can see it in your best friend's eyes, the desperation to see you well, happy.

So, you agree.

“But!—” Namjoon waits for whatever that you are going to say “What the fuck with those tattoos? And the piercing? He can’t be real, you created him”

He lets out a thunderous laugh as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Girl, I know”

______

“Thank you so much for having me tonight y/n”

“Oh, no, no” You blush. He chuckles, watching you trying to burn holes in the door of the apartment in front of yours to avoid his gaze. “I-I…eh…Thank you! T-Thank you for coming, like, here, to my house, obviously…oh my god”

You want to slap your face for making a fool of yourself in front of another extremely hot man.

And then, he smiles.

And it's not a smirk or a chuckle that can be interpreted as "I know what I’m doing to you."

It's genuine.

He’s giving you his adorable bunny smile.

“Cute”

If he is about to say something else besides what your brain translated as a compliment, a voice coming from the elevator at the end of the hall momentarily distracts you from it.

“Hey pink”

Although Jimin's greeting is for you, his eyes are intently fixed on the male figure next to you, who watches him curiously.

“Jiminie, you are at home”

Jungkook's eyes travel quickly from Jimin to you, who -with incredible speed for someone so small- runs into the arms of the black-haired boy standing in front of the elevator door.

The gears in his brain working at full power, stopping abruptly when this guy drops the bags he was carrying on the floor so he can wrap his arms around your waist, still throwing daggers in his direction.

Then the realization hits him, and his lips let out an amused chuckle.

This guy must see him as a threat and being honest, he could be.

If you'd let him, that is.

“Yoongi didn't let me escape early, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner with you”

The butterflies in your belly do a triple loop at his words.

"It's okay, I understand" You say turning around but not before grabbing one of the bags lying on the floor and incidentally, the hand he keep unoccupied by the other bags, you turn to Jungkook with a smile "Jungkookie, this is Jiminie, my neighbor!"

“Hi, Jiminie the neighbor”

Jungkook extends his hand offering it in a cordial greeting, while Jimin examines him completely to finally put down the bags and shake it without separating his hand that is holding yours.

“Just Jimin”

You don't quite understand why they seem to be having a battle to the death with just their eyes, in the middle of the hallway, while Mrs. Kim passes by and watches the scene with curiosity.

You give her a somewhat apologetic smile and make a small bow before -trying- to take a step to get closer to Jungkook.

Try, because the moment Jimin detected movement on your part, he pulled your hand with a little force -without hurting you of course-, to return you to his side.

Jungkook catches between his lips the mocking laughter that wants to escape from his chest and instead returns his gaze to you, smiling softly.

"I'd love to stay and get to know 'Just Jimin' a little more, but I'm afraid it's a little late" You can watch from the corner of your eye as Jimin rolls his eyes and turns to the side with a pout on his lips.

Weird.

Not the tantrum, you've seen it multiple times.

The moment. Yeah, that's weird.

"Actually, yes. It's late. Jungkookie from college" Jimin says dryly

For some reason your brain fails to organize its ideas and thoughts, they're all scattered all over the floor of what you assume is the control room in your head.

"Sure" Jungkook replies without looking at him, taking a step to get closer to you, snapping you out of your thoughts "Really, thanks for tonight, y/n"

Jimin knows, he can feel it.

His cheeks must be red and his forehead must have the biggest scowl in history.

Because, who does he think he is, Jungkookie from college, to hug you like that?

Even when his hand is intertwined with yours!.

"Oh" Jungkook's warm embrace brings you back to your senses completely. unconsciously letting go of Jimin's hand to return the gesture with affection "Thank you for coming, I hope Namjoon didn't force you to come all the way here."

"Not at all. Actually, I'd love to meet with you guys again."

When you part, Jimin makes his presence noticeable again, taking your hand quickly with a huff.

------

"I thought only Namjoon and Jin were coming for dinner?"

Jimin lets the question out casually, wishing it wasn't too obvious his need for information from the - apparently - new member of your group.

"Oh, yeah, Namjoon found Jungkook by chance and invited him over for old times' sake."

He can see how you arrange some cans in his cupboard, as if you know the place by heart.

Leaning on his kitchen counter, a smile moves over his lips at the domesticity of the moment.

How can you look so pretty and pink, doing something as mundane as stocking his pantry?

And it's this very thought that forces him to take control of the situation. Because he knows that what happened in the hallway a few minutes ago must have confused you even if you don't show it to him.

And it's not something he can afford.

"I see" Running his hand through his hair -a habit he doesn't intend to abandon-, he starts rummaging through another shopping bag as he continues "Did you read my messages?"

He can see you cease your movements and stand still with a bag of candy in one hand.

"I-I..."

"Nevermind" He Interrupts you "Yoongi advised me on one or two things that might be useful."

"He did?"

No.

But you can't know that.

"Yeah, he did."

------

A/N:

For the people who read the first part, I'm sorry for the delay but I've been going through an unexpected and difficult time, so I promise to make up for the lost time. In the meantime I'll leave this chapter here and I hope you enjoy it and again, I'm really sorry!

#park jimin fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #park jimin #jeon jeongkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim taehyung #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bangtan fic #bts fic

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