#yeah. i’ll probably be done after final shape - at least done playing as often as i do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktheist · 4 years ago

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girls like you [don’t] run ‘round with guys like me | m

characters. popular!reader x shy!jimin

genre. college au. rich kids au. fwb au. eventual ceo au. eventual racer au.

words. 4k

warnings. 18+

note. this is a repost. tumblr messed up my exposure last time. this fic didn’t show up in search and it’s probably a third post of mine that ends up like this. this one probably won’t either but posting bc someone might see it and like it.

It’s easy to tell when Park Jimin is in love.

Unlike Kim Seokjin, his eccentric, dad joke-loving friend, Jimin would only wear the pastel pink when he’s feeling giggly and shy and mushy inside.

The source of said feelings being either the barista he goes to get his daily dose of coffee from, or the girl at the library he studies at during finals or well, right now it’s the girl he’s fucking almost every day of the week - you.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin looks at him like he just dumped a spoonful of salt in a broth that needs a little, teensy bit of sugar.

Or his face seems to say that as he goes on, “she’s a mean girl. She’s mean.”

Jimin isn’t sure if Seokjin’s aware that he’s just repeated the same thing twice.

“She calls you Chim!” The older man reiterates.

“Yeah, it’s…” Jimin trails off, the heartwarming image of you cuddling into him after yet another mindblowing sex, flashing at the back of his mind, “...her pet name for me.”

“Sounds to me like she can’t remember your actual name,” Min Yoongi interjects from the couch he’s claimed for himself ever since they got to their usual hangout.

It’s a penthouse Jimin’s parents bought him on his 18th birthday. Him and the boys would hang around there after they’re done with classes or just need a place to crash whenever they have problems with their girlfriends or boyfriends or parents or any sort of problem that renders their usual room not sleepable.

“I think we can just agree we have different wants,” Jeongguk - or the sanest of them all, as Jimin likes to call him - chirps in, taking a bite of the apple he got from the fridge.

“Exactly,” Jimin throws his hands up as if freed from his elder friends’ judge-filled eyes. The vibration of his phone in his lap gives him even more comfort to know that he finally has an excuse to slip away - he checks his phone, your name flashing in the bubble that says ‘hey, wyd?’

“I have to go, it’s ___.”

A series of groans and hollers equally erupts from the men in the room at the realization of what Jimin’s ‘having to go’ means.

And so it goes. Jimin finds himself under your blanket that smells like fresh laundry - it’s a nude green color compared to the pleated black and white from last time. Your head is on his chest and he’s caressing your hair like it’s the softest thing he’s ever laid his hands on.

Besides your boobs, that is.

“I was thinking… since we have Monday off… maybe we could-”

It’s the way you push yourself off him, eyes that are onto him gazing straight into his soul, “oh shoot, Monday’s a public holiday. I totally forgot! I have to meet my parents. My dad’s been nagging me to come back since I skipped Christmas and New Year.”

And there goes his chance to ask you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, what were you saying about Monday?”

Jimin wears the biggest fake smile he can muster, “just that… me and the boys are gonna hang out and we’re bringing our girlfriends and boyfriends and uh- doesn’t have to be someone you’re exclusively seeing,” he almost chokes at the almost-admittance that he has the fattest crush on you and wants to make it official by inviting you to a couple’s-only hang out, “but like, I don’t think I’m going, it’s boring anyway.”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying to play it cool.

You make a cooing sound, eyebrows knitting together as your lips pout cutely before a playful smile blooms on your face, “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Jimin thinks he heard his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Yeah, you’re single and all the boys have someone special they’re gonna bring… it’s gonna be awkward as hell because they’re gonna act different because they’re around their special someone so you thought if I was there, it’d be more fun because at least you have a friend with you that’s not gonna act fake the whole time there but I can’t go so you decided you’re not going too like a minute ago.”

Silence lulls in after your analogy that you sound so sure of when, in fact, he has a whole list of things he’d do on the date which he may or may not have gone over a hundred times in his head.

Doesn’t matter now, since that date is a no-go.

He’s going to delete that list off his phone once he gets to his place and drink himself silly until he wipes it out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Jimin says a moment later, “yeah… I mean, girls in love are cute but boys in love are just… annoying.”

The week flies by without Jimin ever mentioning Monday and you’ve showed him the clothes you’re going to wear to visit your parents because apparently-

“It’s lunch at some five star Michelin restaurant and I think they’re gonna tell me they’re getting a divorce,” your voice drifts into the room from the open, walk-in closet.

“If they’re not in some long, dreadful battle on who gets the holiday house with the pool and the dogs - how do I look?” You step out, in a frilly creme sweater with a black ribbon tied around the collar of your white undershirt with a black pleated skirt that stops mid-thighs, just inches from your black stockings.

A glaring contrast to your collection of washed out skinny jeans, plain t-shirts and sneakers.

“You… look…” Jimin knows he should stop openly ogling at your never-before-seen drip but there’s just something about the creme colored sweater.

“Like a good girl?” You offer with a smile Jimin couldn’t quite put a name to. Somehow he notices a trace of sadness in your eyes, but you disappear into the closet too soon.

“I’ll think about what to wear the morning I need to wear it,” you’re in the middle of pulling off the sweater when Jimin comes up behind you, kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs like they’re his.

The sound of your giggle is music to his ears.

That is, until his boner brushes against your butt and you gasp, “Chim! We just did it.”

“I know but you look so cute in that sweater.” He sounds exactly like Jeongguk. Like a fuckboy.

Like one of the boys you got tired of before you finally noticed him, the quiet, shy guy who’s friends with the outgoing, baby-faced Jeon Jeongguk whom - Jimin hates to admit it but he thinks about this every once so often and gets jealous all on his own - you’ve humped and dumped.

How you and Jeongguk still manage to stay friends and tease each other about the other’s choice of partners, Jimin doesn’t know.

It’s like a twin calling the other ugly.

He wonders if you and him will still stay friends after…

Jimin pushes the thought out of his mind. It’s not hard to forget everything when he’s with you - when he’s kissing you on the mouth like you’re the only girl he’ll want to spend the rest of his college life with and maybe his old days with together too.

“Chim, I can’t get my shirt creased,” you say but you’re already dripping wet and laying down in said shirt that’s half ridden up from him sucking and biting on your nipples.

He stopped you when you tried to take off your clothes.

“I’ll wash it and iron it for you,” he negotiates just as he rolls the condom over his length.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart skip a beat. Or maybe that’s the libido?

Either way, your mouth clamps shut when he pulls you down against him by the dip of your waist.

A different kind of hymn leaves your lips as Jimin throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of you around him.

When Monday rolls around, Jimin’s lying on the bean bag with his two legs sprawled over the floor. The boys are all out with either their significant others, working part-time or at a party.

The worn out baseball Jimin’s been tossing in the air and catching with one hand finally hits him square in the face when he hears the doorbell, signaling the presence of someone at the door and that someone being none of the boys because they would just punch in the code and strut in like they own the place.

Jimin thought maybe it’s Yoongi - the guy couldn’t even remember what he had for dinner and actually forgot the passcode to his own rental room once.

So he didn’t think to check who it was.

When your bright smile and slightly puffy eyes flash in front of him, Jimin thinks his soul just yeeted itself out of his body.

“Hey!” You sing song, holding up two plastic bags of beers and snacks.

It takes a moment for him to snap out of his stupor and grab them from your hands and then stepping aside to let you in.

“Is… everyone late or am I just early?” You sound increasingly confused as you step further into the center of the room, standing right next to the bean bag he was laying in just a moment ago.

“Oh-” he says once before he opens his mouth the second time, ready to spurt out another lie, “oh yeah… we decided not to ‘cause why hang out in a group when you can hang out with your significant other… you know, just the two of you… doing what couples do…”

“Huh,” you say, nodding though not quite believing him but you being you, easily lets it slide, plopping on the bean bag and grabbing the closest thing to you which is the ball that hit Jimin in the face - he’s sure he has a circular mark smack dab in the area on the top of his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

The dress you end up wearing is creme colored and riding up your thighs - Jimin swallows thickly and give extra attention to the bottle opener.

“So… how did lunch go?” He pops two beers open and hands one to you, taking a seat on Yoongi’s favorite couch and admiring how your dress is taking the shape of your body as gravity pulls it down.

“Oh, you know, everyone was being fake and acting like the perfect role in the family,” you put the beer down a few inches above your head so as to not tip it over with the ball you’re waving around but not throwing in the air like Jimin did.

“Sounds suffocating,” Jimin repeats a similar answer he gives whenever you use that dismissive tone while talking about your family.

“...are you okay?” Then he asks - and he’s genuinely asking - about your state of mind while casually downing the beer and feeling the bitterness lessen with every gulp.

The silence that lapses in between you is familiar.

“If I say no, can I get a hug?” It’s the look in your eyes, glimmering like the lake he used to go to in summer.

“Always,” he sets his beer down on the table next to the couch and goes over to you, standing on his knees before bending down and engulfing you in his arm.

You’ve always had a knack for picking yourself up.

When he sees you the next time, which is on instagram and a post of you having lunch with your friends, Jimin could hardly believe that’s the girl who asked him for a hug as if she’s afraid she’ll be putting him in an uncomfortable spot by asking for too much.

But there’s something…

Like an invisible wall made of ice that he can’t thaw through nor can he climb over to get to the other side where you are. Where you keep the people you love the closest. Closer than he’ll ever be.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of them.

In the picture of five people huddled close to fit in the frame, Jeongguk has his arm over you with a peace sign while you lean your head on his neck but not actually resting on it - like it’s an unconscious action you’d do because you’ve done that plenty of times.

Is it when you two were together?

Everyone he knows, knows that you and Jeongguk used to be more than just friends at some point.

Sometimes he still hears people talking about you two in passing.

‘Did ___ and Jeongguk get back together? I saw in Jeongguk’s snapstory - they were in a club or something.’

‘No way. There goes my chance of getting close with Jeongguk.’

‘Girl, with ___ hanging around him 24/7, do you think he’d look at girls like us?’

‘A girl can dream though.’

Jimin wanted to open his mouth and tell them they deserve way better than Jeon Jeongguk - though they’re not prettier than you.

He thinks you’re the loveliest girl on planet earth and if there was another life form on another planet, he’s almost a hundred percent sure you’d still be prettiest being in the universe with your obsession for skinny jeans and the way you’d unconsciously pout when he talks about how things weren’t going his way that day as if you would’ve exchanged your abundance of luck with his shitty one just because you’ve got that big of a heart and how you’d be walking with your friends, laughing and giggling and when you see him, you’d wave at him like you’re good friends.

Second only to Jeongguk and your friend group that you’re always hanging out with.

“Oh, ___? We were childhood friends.”

“Hmm… Gguk and I became friends because our parents are friends.”

The two of them say at different times and settings when Jimin asked, trying to play it cool. Like he isn’t just brimming with jealousy. Like he’s not half-way to losing his mind because the girl of his dreams just went to a retreat with his friend-of-a-friend-turned-actual-friend together when everyone else in the group who was excitedly planning for the trip - couldn’t make it.

The rooms at the inn weren’t even pre-booked. It was owned by Jeongguk’s family and they didn’t deposit any money for the trip for them to rationalize going on that trip anyway despite everyone else not being to go.

“The trip? It was fun, if you want we can go together next time.”

Jimin isn’t sure if you even mean that when he asked how the trip went after you’re glistening with the glow of after sex and scrolling through instagram, liking posts of everyone you know.

But then three months later, on your break, Jimin is hit with a ‘keep your schedule free next week for a whole week!!!’

Then he finds himself at a five star hotel by the beach with the most breathtaking view of the sea.

It wasn’t the inn owned by the Jeon’s but Jimin liked the fact that you brought him to a place - and he hopes his assumptions are true - your friends have never been before. Especially Jeongguk.

“Woah, this place is better than I thought,” a king sized bed lies directly across from the balcony where you’re standing, hair flying behind your back as the seaside breeze blows into the room.

“We can watch the sun rise and set from our bed,” Jimin comments for the sake of saying something.

He’s not sure what this means. He’s not sure if he should be having a boner at the thought of the two of you being together for a whole week without any other person getting in the way. He’s not sure if his heart should be thumping this fast.

For the first time since he’s known you, Park Jimin is the most unsure he’s ever been.

“You know what I wanna watch?” Your hands slip in his as you stand between him and the open balcony door, “you under me, biting your lips because you’re still shy about the sound you make.”

So when you tug him back into the bedroom just minutes after checking in, naturally, Park Jimin follows like he’s been bewitched by your ungodly beauty.

Once the one week of nothing but heavenly morning wishes and passionate night kisses - oh, there was more than just kissing but Jimin remembers how your lips meld so perfectly together with his the most - Jimin is sure.

‘Something definitely changed.’

He thinks maybe it’s not impossible to dream of a future with you even after college.

“Jimin I-... I’m not at a point in life to be thinking about relationships,” you say, hand gripping your arm, head lowered as if your whole body is saying sorry.

“O-oh,” is all he says, he hearts his heart breaking and his chest caving.

All of a sudden, the lights in Gangnam city doesn’t seem so bright anymore.

You both live your last year pretending like the other doesn’t exist. He doesn’t look at you when he passes you and neither did you. Only talks to Jeongguk even though you’re right next to the aforementioned man - granted you were talking with your other friends like you didn’t even notice him there.

But Jimin’s never felt so invisible in his life than he does now.

Then, graduation rolls around and he thinks finally, he won’t have to walk through the hallway and pretend like he didn’t see you. Don't have to keep a five feet distance whenever you meet up for a group project.

Park Jimin doesn’t need to see your pretty face and starry eyes anymore.

“Jimin… do you have a minute?”

Or so he thought.

“So… congrats on surviving college,” you make small talk while standing just ten feet away from the boys whom he’s sure are speculating on what you’re talking about.

Jimin never got to prove to his friends that you’re not the mean, name-forgetting girl they all thought.

Jeongguk knows you’re not. He’s always backing Jimin up when Jimin’s debunking their passing accusations about you.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out between two people but doesn’t mean one of them is the bad guy.” Jeongguk's words put an end to their debate of whether Jimin deserved better than you or not.

For someone young, Jeongguk spoke his mind decidedly.

Jimin felt ashamed that he’d ever been jealous of Jeongguk’s relationship with you.

“I just… didn’t wanna leave things on a bad note. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no but I really like spending time with you - whether it’s sex or just staying over and cuddling for hours… I like it all.” You say the word sex and cuddle like they’re used interchangeably and Jimin thinks his heart just fluttered.

And you’d said it in public where your everyone can see or possibly pick up on what you were saying, at that.

Well, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got bigger balls than he does.

“My feelings are the same as six months ago and call me crazy but I don’t think you dislike me either.” He finally says and it feels like a deadweight has been lifted off his shoulders.

There comes that pout, as if something is bothering you and you always ever pout like that when that something concerns him.

“You kidding me? I can never dislike you.”

The Jimin from six months ago would have stared at you with disbelief and a dust of pink on his cheeks. But the Jimin he is now simply smiles, heart thumping in his chest. He nods.

“Thanks for telling me that,” and Jimin knows that’s the closest to an ‘I like you’ he can get with the girl who builds an ice fortress around her heart.

A whole year passes by and Jimin finds himself in different shades of grey every day, working at his dad’s company and attending dinner meetings. Life comes to a standstill while time passes him by.

“So, like, you have a sports car, right? Why don’t you come over to the race circuit after dinner? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Jeongguk tells him over the phone.

And by ‘everyone’ he means the sons and daughters in the corporate world. It’s networking at its finest.

When he’s there, three cars are already racing in the circuit. The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of tires screeching against asphalt isn’t exactly his favorite but they have cheap booze instead of fine wine and he knows the people here are in for the same thing as he is.

An escape.

Away from the grandeur of fine wine and dinner dresses and the elders breathing down their necks and having to act like the next heir to the legacy they were born to carry.

“That Chevrolet over there,” Jeongguk comes, hand on Jimin’s back as his other one that’s holding a bottle of beer points at a red car that looks like a racing fireball, “everyone’s betting on that one tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t know there’s a bet.

“I’ll skip the bet this time ‘round. Haven’t seen the driver yet,” he shrugs dismissively.

Even in stock investment, he’d learned to study the market first before placing his best bet.

Jeongguk leaves his side when his friends - he’s got new ones now - beckons him over. At the same time, the Chevrolet passes the finish line seconds before the Ford Mustang and McLaren 720s, making it the winner of the night.

The driver seems like a show off with the way the car rolls up to the audience, the sound of its engines revving into the night being met with cheers of half-drunk young adults.

Arrogance is a man’s downfall.

Jimin’s about to turn around and head for the exit when the door of the car gets pushed open. The driver steps out, decked in black and red leather jeans and jackets that seem to match the car.

But it’s the smooth, silken hair that cascades past the helmet that catches his eyes.

Park Jimin’s seen many arrogant men in his life but he’s only ever seen one woman with balls and looks good wearing them.

“___! ___! ___!” The crowd starts cheering as you pull off the helmet, holding it underneath your arm and waist.

Your eyes are as brilliant as the night sky full of stars. They’re tinged with shock and then recognition. And finally, you smile that gorgeous smile that gets you misunderstood often as a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone but uses them as they come.

But Park Jimin knows better than anyone, how wholeheartedly happy that smile looks when you see him.

Like meeting a good friend after a long time.

Seven months down the road, Jimin finds himself with just a blanket draped over his waist while you’re taking a shower in his bathroom to get ready to head to Hong Kong for a business trip.

He hears the sound of the shower head being turned off. The tapping of your foot around his bedroom as you pick up your clothes that are strewn all over the floor.

Then the bed dips ever so gently under your weight as you climb over to him, the fresh scent of shower get filling his senses. Lips press a deep, lingering kiss on his. As if you don’t want to go to a place where he won’t be.

A few socials and midnight races after his first meeting with you after a long time, you asked him if he’s seeing someone.

“If I say yes, what will you do?” It’s playful at first, because Jimin didn’t want to get himself hurt the second time.

But it’s the way you tilted your head, a finger tapping on your chin as you pondered on his words, “that’s a problem because I don’t want to be that girl that steals another girl’s man,” then you looked at him like you know he’s the one you want to wake up to every morning and the last face you see when you sleep at night and if you can’t have that. then-

“Can you be mine… just for tonight?”

“I don’t think I can.” The crestfallen expression you wear makes his own heart break, even if it’s just for a split second-

“Because I’m not seeing anyone but I’m in that point in life where I want a serious relationship or nothing at all.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is how he doesn’t want a relationship if it’s not with the girl who still haunts his dreams even after all this time.

Just like how you’d turned him down because you weren’t looking to be in a relationship before, you’d courted Jimin like you’d want to spend your whole life with him now.

Flowers got sent to his office everyday until it smells nothing short of floral. You’d be there, waving at him like he’s your savior in that dreadful social you were both attending. Every week, you’d plan dinner dates under the guise of catching up.

Before you race, you’d look over to where he’s standing, as if saying ‘this one’s for you’ before slipping into your car and coming out first every single time.

As if you were making up for every month of the year that you’d let life pass you by.

Now you’ve won a total of 36 races since he met you and the metal band you gifted him on the night of your 12th win feels warm against his skin. As if it’s absorbed all the love and adoration you poured into it.

And you’re wearing that ring he got you on your birthday on your finger that’s resting on his chest where his heart is as he kisses you back just as reluctant to let you leave.

But Park Jimin knows wherever you are, wherever you will be - you will always find your way back to each other.

Back home.

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts fics #jimin fic #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #bts x you #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jimin fics #bts fic #bts fanfics #jimin fanfics #jimin scenarios #bts scenarios

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Getting In Tune | Chris Evans x reader fluff

summary: taking house calls as a piano tuner doesn’t usually mean meeting hot guys… mostly just old ladies who offer you lemonade, which is great and all, but did not prepare you for an appointment to tune chris evans’ full grand.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, dirty jokes about pianos, allusions to nsfw things?? vaguely?, mostly just fluff and flirting and awkwardness

Checking that the address on your worksheet matched the one on the door in front of you, you reviewed the nature of the appointment as your boss had written out for you:

Customer: Christopher Evans

Appointment type: Warranty tuning and check-up

Arrival time: 10 a.m.

You checked your watch and saw that it was 9:58, but hopefully that wouldn’t bother him too much. Leaning forward, you knocked on the door and waited. You could hear a dog barking inside, running up to the other side of the door as someone unlocked the bolt and cracked it open, poking his head out while he held the dog back with his leg.

He seemed a little surprised to see you standing there, made even more apparent by the fact that he was obviously wearing pajamas— specifically, a baggy tank top and gingham flannel pants. A few tattoos were visible on his arms and collarbones, though you tried not to stare at them or anything.

“Did you not know you had an appointment today?” you asked him. When he didn’t answer, you tried to give a bit more of a prompting. “I’m here from Boston Steinway…?”

“Right, right,” he agreed, “uh, let me put the dog out, and… put on a shirt…”

“Good idea,” you suggested, “I’ll be here!”

He smiled at you one more time before shutting the door again, his footsteps shuffling away as you waited for his return. Thankfully it was a nice day out so you weren’t too cold in your work uniform (yes, you felt like a total dork having to wear a polo with a nametag on it, but such is the life of a piano tuner). When you heard the dog run into the backyard, and the sound of Chris coming back to open the door, you took a moment to straighten yourself in hopes of looking like you’d been waiting patiently.

“Come in please,” he offered as he opened the door one more time, wearing a navy sweater and jeans now (and a NASA ball cap, for whatever reason) and stepping aside to invite you in.

“I hope I didn’t scare you too much,” you smiled as you stepped past him, letting him shut the door behind you, “a lot of people forget when I’m supposed to show up, trust me.” You shuddered as you remembered those times you caught people in a lot worse than pajamas.

“No, I knew somebody was coming today, I just… wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off.

“A girl?” you finished for him with a smirk.

“I… yeah, I guess I wasn’t expecting a girl,” he laughed, looking a little embarrassed.

"Well, piano tuning is a real boy's club," you joked.��

"Is it?" he asked sincerely.

"Um, no, not particularly."

"Oh."

After an awkward moment passed while you cringed internally at your failed joke, he finally guided you across the house to where the piano was; you set your toolbag down beside it, stepping back to admire the instrument. “It’s gorgeous,” you told him.

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled a little. “Yeah, she’s a beaut.”

“How long have you been playing?” you asked. “Or are you one of those people who keeps it mostly for decoration.”

“Decoration?” he repeated incredulously. “Do people do that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “more often than not I end up doing cosmetic repairs instead of internal ones because families are basically using this as the most expensive object possible to put framed family photos on.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, “I mean, I’m sure I’m not using this thing the way it deserves, cause I’m still not very good at it but… yeah, at least I play it a few times a week.”

“Good, it deserves that,” you agreed. “Mind if I…?”

“Oh, go ahead,” he prompted, stepping back and motioning for you to touch the piano. You didn’t sit down, just leaning over to do a quick scale up and back down. "Anyways, I think it's mostly fine but those higher notes are getting kinda squeaky…" he mumbled.

"Right,” you noted, messing around with the keys near the top to check what he’d said, “well, they do that, especially out here with these cold winters making the strings tighten up. Should be fixable."

“Great,” he smiled.

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s take a look at your guts,” you grinned, groaning a bit as you lifted the heavy lid to see the strings inside. "It's in great shape,” you observed aloud, “this can't be more than a few years old."

"Yeah, I got it pretty recently actually. It's never been tuned before."

"Oh, this is its first time?" you smirked, leaning in to whisper to the strings: "don't worry, I'll be gentle."

He blushed a little as he laughed, making you pretty sure your joke hadn't gone too far.

“You, uh, don’t have to be around for this part,” you informed him. “I mean, unless you want to, but it’ll just be me messing around in here for a few hours.

“No, I’ll give you some space,” he decided, “just let me know if you need anything. Do you want, like, water or something?”

“I’m fine, but thanks,” you dismissed, “just continue as if I wasn’t here.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna see that,” he disagreed, looking like he regretted saying it as soon as he finished his sentence. You felt your face warm and hoped he just meant that he’d be eating cheetos out of the bag in his underwear and not anything more… mature.

As he awkwardly shuffled away, you opened your toolbox and got to work. Your first task was to get a pitch reader so you could figure out how well-tuned each string was— you set that on the soundboard and got to work testing keys and reading the little digital display of your device. Once that told you how much work each key needed, it was easy to just put your tuning hammer on one pin at a time, loosening or tightening until the pitch was just right. You couldn’t just start at one side and tune all the way up to the other, oh no, there was a very specific ideal tuning order that you’d memorized by now: first the middle strings of the octaves from C3 to C5, then the one of each of the unison strings in the double bass section, then the middle strings from C5 to C8, then the lower single bass strings, then every left string of all the unisons from C3 to C8, then the rest of the double bass section, and finally all the right strings from C3 to C8.

Easy peasy, right?

It actually sort of would be, if you hadn’t gotten stuck on the unison bass string of E flat 3, your tuning hammer suddenly unable to turn even when you tried to brace yourself against the piano for some leverage.

"Um, Mr. Evans?" you called out.

"Yup!" he answered, swinging out from the entryway instantly— he must have been waiting just outside, which made you feel a little like you were being spied on.

"Would you maybe come over here and use your manly-man strength on this?"

"My what now?" he laughed, walking towards you.

"You know," you explained by flexing your biceps and making a sort of serious face; your charades version of what a muscular man looked like, apparently.

"Oh, I see," he nodded, "my—" and he repeated the charade, except it made your face warm and your eyes all but bulge out of your head. That was him jokingly flexing?! What did he look like when he was actually trying to show his muscles?

You tore yourself from that train of thought as he leaned over the edge of the piano, gripping the tuning hammer you'd left on the pin there.

"This one?" he asked.

"Yeah, just give it a little nudge counter-clockwise, please."

He did it like it was no trouble at all.

"You could've at least pretended it was difficult," you rolled your eyes.

"No, you loosened it up for me," he winked. WINKED. Was he trying to kill you or something? "Chris is fine," he said abruptly.

Chris is fine indeed, your brain supplied instantly. "I'm sorry?" you choked out aloud instead.

"You can call me Chris, I mean," he explained. "You called me Mr. Evans before."

"Oh, right," you nodded. "Chris. Thanks for your help with that, Chris."

"Sure thing," he smiled.

Just as the conversation began to lull, you could hear the dog whining and scratching at the back door, and you felt so guilty that he had been left outside. “You can let the dog back in, you know,” you suggested, “I don’t mind.”

“I shouldn’t,” he shook his head, “he’ll jump all over you and stuff…”

“No, really, it’s fine, I love dogs,” you assured him.

“Alright, just prepare yourself,” he chuckled a little as he slipped over to the back door to let the dog in. Running past his owner instantly and straight to you, you knelt down to let it lick your face as you laughed.

“Hi puppy!” you greeted. “Oh, thank you for the kisses, it’s nice to meet you!” He calmed down a bit when you scratched behind his ears, wiggling and putting his paws up on your knees. “What’s his name?” you asked, turning your attention to Chris who had his arms crossed and a prideful smile on his face.

“Dodger,” he informed you with a nod.

“Aw, hi Dodger,” you cooed at the pup, “I’d sit here and pet you all day, but your dad’s not paying me to play with you— apparently.”

Chris laughed a bit as you stood up, and Dodger actually took it pretty well, dashing to curl up on the nearest couch as you got back to work on the piano.

“I’m just about halfway done,” you informed him as you started to move on to the next string, occasionally plucking the string to test that the pitch was right.

“I’ve never heard a piano plucked before,” he observed, leaning in to watch you work.

“Yeah, probably better to just stick to hitting the keys,” you smirked.

“Psh, anybody can do that,” he scoffed, “you could invent a whole new genre of music!”

"I'll leave the musical experimentation to you," you decided, "and I'll stay on this side of the action board."

"See, I didn't even know that was a part of the piano," he admitted.

"And that's why you're on that side."

You two chatted while you worked— he asked some questions about you, you asked some questions about him, classic small talk sort of stuff. He managed to keep it interesting, though, and keep you laughing throughout the whole conversation. It was significantly more fun than you usually had during house calls like this, and instead of distracting you it actually seemed to help you keep your focus. It was easier to talk to him when you could keep your eyes on the strings anyways: looking right at him was sort of overwhelming.

With the last string adjusted, you slipped the tuning hammer into your back pocket and dusted off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work.

"That's it?" he asked as he stood up from the couch, noticing the signs of completion.

"It is if it sounds good!" you smiled. "Go ahead, take it for a spin," you suggested. "Play something and tell me if it sounds how you want."

"Okay," he nodded, slipping around the bench and sliding onto it. He took a breath before he placed his hands on the keys, but then suddenly stopped and set them back on his lap with a sigh as he turned to you. "Um, it's a little weird with you watching me."

"Oh, are you not used to performance?"

"Not outside of my family and friends and stuff, no."

"I don't really have to be here for this part, as long as you're happy with it then that's fine," you shrugged, "but you know, I wanna be able to fix any issues while I'm still here—"

"No, it’s not a big deal," he shook his head quickly, "I should get over myself. I guess it's just scary cause you've probably heard people a lot better than me play…"

"Don't worry about that," you laughed, "just play something, really, I won't judge."

He spun back to face the keys, placing his hands on them— for a second you wondered if he struggled to hit just one key at a time with those thick fingers, but you pushed that thought away quickly.

As he started to play, you found yourself focusing on the music more than the sound of the keys like you should've been. He was good, actually, although you could hear the hesitance in the way he played. He didn't rush as much as most people did, though; he was savoring the piece, one note at a time, and you let your eyes fall shut as he continued to play.

You broke from your trance when he suddenly stopped, repeating the phrase he'd just finished and stopping on the same note.

"Does this one sound kinda… off to you?" he asked.

"Um," you paused, "play it again?"

He poked the key with one finger a few times, and you frowned. "I can't really tell." You stepped forward and leaned over his shoulder, caging his body in accidentally as your arms wrapped around his shoulders to fiddle with the keys in front of him. You rested your knee on the bench beside his legs, not even realizing that it was a massive invasion of his personal space until you were already in it.

He moved his hands out of the way so you could repeat the phrase, and although you didn't hear anything wrong, you felt the key sticking.

"Oh," you mumbled to yourself, "it's the key, not the string."

"Can you fix it?" he asked looking up at you.

"Yeah, I—" you stopped in the middle of your word as you looked back at him because his face was really close, so close that his bright blue eyes were burning right through you; so close that you completely lost your train of thought. "I can fix anything," you finished softly.

"Great," he whispered back, eyes seeming to glance down to your lips quickly before moving back up to meet your gaze.

You cleared your throat as you stepped back, giving him space again as you nervously crossed your arms. "It's probably just something stuck under there or whatever, but I can order a replacement key if not."

"Right," he agreed with a nod, sliding to the side of the bench to give you room to fiddle with it. You grabbed your smaller toolkit and sat beside him, starting with your flashlight to see if there was anything hiding underneath there.

Moving to peer behind the action frame, you realized it was a problem with the hammer hitting the string— or, more specifically, with the mechanism that kept the hammer balanced. All you had to do was reach in with a long screwdriver and shift some parts around, and it seemed to be back in working order.

“Play it again?” you requested, and he slid back to the middle and started the piece over. He grinned when he reached the part he’d stopped at before, flying through the phrase without stopping.

“Hey! You fixed it!” he beamed.

“I’m a genius,” you shrugged, smirking a little. He stopped playing and you found yourself a little disappointed by that, unexpectedly. “Any other musical ailments I can magically cure for you today?”

“Unless you can make me a better sight reader, that’ll be all,” he smiled, standing up from the bench.

“Ah, if I could do that, I’d be using that power on myself.”

He shrugged; "Fair enough."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," you announced as you put the last of your tools away and picked up your bag. "Hope I didn't disrupt your day too much."

"You did, actually— in a good way," he grinned. "I definitely learned a lot more than I was going to just watching TV and drinking beer."

You followed him back to the front door, which he opened for you. "You can always give us a call if you need anything. Um, anything piano-related, that is. Tell the dog I said goodbye, okay?"

Chris smiled a little, softer than his normal expression. "I'll be sure he gets the message."

As you got back in your car, you took a minute to just catch your breath for the first time since you'd gotten here. Trying to be funny and cute and charming when all you wanna do is stutter and gawk and melt is exhausting! As enjoyable as it was, in a certain sense, you were relieved at the idea of returning to your routine— which typically did not include super hot dudes chatting you up at work.

“This must be a mistake,” you shook your head as you showed the work order form to your boss, “I was at this address two weeks ago, the piano’s in perfect condition.”

“Well, he has an unlimited warranty, so either something happened since you were there last, or you fucked something up when you were there last, or he’s just determined to get his money’s worth out of us,” she explained without looking up from her computer.

You sighed and left, heading back to the same address and hoping you weren’t about to get chewed out for somehow ruining Chris’ like-new piano.

Knocking on the door, you found yourself chewing your lip as you waited for him to answer the door. You were a little surprised when he answered in a button-up and slacks— entirely opposite to pajamas, although you sort of missed that get-up if you were being honest.

“Hey,” he greeted with a grin, stepping back to motion for you to come inside.

“Hi,” you responded awkwardly as you stepped past him. “Is... everything alright with the piano? I didn’t damage it, did I?”

He cleared his throat as he shut the door behind you, the size of the hallway forcing the two of you to stand slightly closer together than you would’ve personally preferred; it was hard to focus with him so close, sometimes. “No, no, it’s not that,” he answered, “the piano’s fine, I just…” he stammered a little, starting over. “Uh, there was something I wanted to ask you about last time, and I called the Steinway store but I couldn’t figure out how to call you specifically, so I just had to make a new tuning appointment.”

You furrowed your brow with confusion, not sure why someone else on the phone couldn’t answer whatever question he had, but decided to let him go through with his thought. “What did you wanna ask me?”

“Uh, I just wanted to ask you… out,” he finished plainly.

You paused as you processed that. “Out?”

“Like, I was wondering if you’d wanna… go out, with me.”

You hoped your face didn’t give away all of your shock, but at the same time, you figured it probably did.

He winced as you continued to stare at him in silence. “I’m kind of out on a limb here,” he reminded you.

“Right, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “um, I guess I’m just sort of surprised because you’re, like… hot, and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“Yeah, like… nice…” you explained.

“Hot and nice?” he laughed. “Slow down, you’ll give me an ego.”

You laughed, too, and less nervously than you expected. Feeling the rare urge to be spontaneous, you scratched your neck as you prepared to propose an idea. “Listen, so, this might be crazy but... I have another appointment today, at the Symphony Hall— it’s a final tune-up on the pianos and harps before this massive concerto thing and they always let me stay to watch the performance afterwards. If you came with me, I could get you in for free.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you probably have better things to do today—”

“I don’t,” he refuted.

“And if you just wanted to, like, get lunch some time then that would be great, I just thought I might as well invite you to hear the chamber orchestra from the best seat in the house,” you shrugged.

“The best seat?” he questioned incredulously. “And where is that?”

“The rafters,” you laughed.

And that was how you and Chris ended up sitting on the steel catwalk suspended on the ceiling of the Boston Symphony Hall, dangling your feet over the edge as the sounds of the concerto echoed out from the stage, over the silent audience and, finally, up to you two.

The music was incredible, if a little quiet from where you were listening, and so soothing that you felt compelled to close your eyes and focus on the sound. You were partial to the piano, as always, but the violins and cellos in harmony made your chest warm unexpectedly. Or maybe that was from the feeling of Chris’ gaze on you, as you opened your eyes to find him looking at your face rather than the performance below.

“What are you looking at me for?” you asked him with a nervous laugh.

“For fun,” he shrugged.

“Doesn’t seem very exciting,” you scoffed, looking back to the stage.

“Oh, it’s exciting,” he mumbled his reply as he returned his gaze to the performance as well.

Your cheeks burned when you heard that, in spite of the fact that it was actually a bit drafty in the auditorium. Even though your nerves were buzzing with anxiety, a rush of bravery struck you and suddenly you were leaning your head onto his shoulder. Just the warmth of him through his shirt— hell, even the smell of his cologne— somehow managed to relax you and energize you simultaneously. His hand gingerly slipping around your waist was even better.

After this many years of tuning pianos, it felt like you were getting yourself in tune for the first time.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff

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rostovs-lover · 4 years ago

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garble

din djarin x reader | electrocution mention, fretting over the baby, mando is a touch insecure of his parenting skills | fluff | gender neutral | wc.1082

i wrote this whole thing in one night and it hasn’t been edited the best, very sorry. i hope you enjoy!!

blxckhearthood : Hi love! Whenever you have the time was wondering if you could write a mandalorian fanfic/imagine where the reader & Din get into an argument about letting Grogu go work on the wires & have in end in a cute cuddly way? 🥺 Please & thank you & hope you're staying safe & heathy & hydrated! 🤍

Mando thinks the child could do a good job on the wires, you disagree.

The bed tucked into a nook of the Razor Crest was small and cramped but it was far more comfortable than any of the places you’d slept in a while. The blankets were exactly where they’d been the morning you first landed on Tatooine, before you’d met Vanth or taken Peli’s passenger. It had been worth it, reuniting the Mother with her husband but by the time all was said and done and you were on your way to find Ashoka Tano you were all exhausted.

After the crash, the Crest had been practically destroyed and its repair was hardly that, it was in some shape to fly, but that even seemed risky. All of this didn’t even begin to cover the creatures you had found inside. The baby had eaten one but you had also found one in the shower. At least your bed had been untouched.

Another problem with the new and improved Razor Crest was the exposed wires, more how often they needed repair. The hole was terribly small and Din couldn’t get in much past his shoulder, with a bit of finessing you could get in just a bit farther than him but not far enough to really fix anything. To reattach wires you had to see and seeing wasn’t possible with how small the space was. You had tried to feel, moving with Din’s guidance, to reattach things but that hadn’t gone as well as planned. You had put the wire into the wrong port and it sent a sharp jolt of electricity all the way up to your shoulder. You had gasped, jolting your arm out and stumbling back. It stung for a moment before dissolving into an uncomfortable tingle.

“The kid would fit,” The Mandalorian said, hoisting the child up into his arms.

You glared up at him, “No, absolutely not.”

“He’ll be fine, he can do it,” Din looked at the child, “You can, you’re tough,”

“No,” You reached up, pulling the Child from your companion and cradling him in the arm you could feel, “He can’t, he's too small,”

Din crossed his arms, “Exactly, he's small, he’ll fit,”

You pulled the Child closer, “What if he gets hurt? He could get electrocuted, what then Mando?”

He sighed, “He’ll be fine, I’ll watch him,” Mando opened his arms to you, “Give him to me, I promise it’ll be alright,”

But you were still reluctant, not willing to give up your hold on your child yet, “Think about what a shock will do to him, he's not equip for that.”

Din motioned for the child again, “He's gonna be fine, he can take it. I promise,” The affirmation cracked your resolve and you surrendered, giving up the Child to his father. Din squatted down in front of the hole and set the child inside, “Go on, crawl down there,” The boy cooed and tilted his head so Mando pointed, “Down there kid,”

With a bit of instruction, the Child finally understood what he was being told and shuffled down to the panel. The wires seemed infinitely bigger in his small grasp and he stared at them with awe. Anxiety burned through your chest as you watched your child fiddle with high powered electrics. You did not enjoy him being in there, the parental instinct yearning to have him back in your arms. You hadn’t meant to get as attached to the little green thing as you had but here you were, fretting over his wellbeing.

“Careful,” Din mumbled to the child, “Yeah, you’ve got the right wire. Now put it- No. no don’t touch-” A sharp zip shot out and smoke began to dribble out.

Your chest tightened, “What did I tell you?” You hissed, pushing past the Mandalorian and reaching in for your boy. He tugged him out and held him up for inspection. A thin layer of soot covered his small cheeks and his robes were dirty but he waved his paws and giggled down at you. He wasn’t hurt.

“See, he's just fine.” Din chided, but he still took the child from you to look over himself. When satisfied with his son’s safety he nodded, “Just fine,”

“Do you want me to try that wire again?” You asked.

He shook his head, “No, it's fine. It just hooks to a steering mechanism but it's not important. Not important enough to deal with now at least, I won’t need it to land.” He adjusted the kid and turned back to the cockpit. You followed, settling into the passenger seat and staring out of the windscreen in the abyss.

Din flicked a switch overhead and began to check things on the console, “You worry too much,” His voice was even, there was no malintent behind his words, just an observation.

“Do I?” You turned the seat to look at him.

“You do,” He nodded, “It's not bad, it's just something you do. You’re a good person, a good parent, so you overthink things.”

“Should I… stop?”

“No, definitely not.”

You grinned at him and waggled your eyebrows, “You’re right, its probably good to have one cautious party on this team.” It was quiet for a moment before you spoke again, “For the record, Din, you’re also a good parent.” He didn’t respond, “You really are, overly cautious or not. The baby is lucky to have you, I mean you were sent to kill him. Not many people would have had the compassion to spare his life,”

“He was just a kid, I couldn’t have killed him. No one could have,”

You shook your head, “He had a bounty out on him for a long time after you saved him. People are ruthless, but not you. You are good and kind.” Din grunted in acknowledgment, “You’re wonderful, you really are,”

“I… thank you.” He turned to you, “But where did the ‘good dad’ speech come from?”

You shrugged, “You brought it up, I just felt like you needed to know as well,”

He sighed, “Well, I appreciate it,”

You nodded, “As long as you know,”

The Child babbled up at you from his pram, waving his little green paws. It was astonishing, how in tune the boy was with the both of you, almost as if he could sense your conversation. When he let out more garbled gibberish you picked him up and provided him one of your fingers to play with. He smiled, content. Content with the both of you, content with the world.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #lennie writes #my head hurts so bad wtf #anyways wnjoy

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tobesobri · 4 years ago

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Bust | Part Three: Carve (5.5k)

content warning: body image, fatphobia

She wasn’t sure what gave her the boost of confidence to trek up goddamned Justice Hill for the second time today, but she was here. And she was glancing through the windows to find Harry up at his front desk. His cup set aside while he focused on a mound of clay in front of him that roughly took the shape of some humanoid object.

Without giving herself time to second guess, she pushed through the front door and got his attention immediately.

He sat up a little straighter, opened his mouth and then closed it. Loosened the knot between his brows and then tightened it. All while she just stood at the back of the room catching her breath and just staring at him.

“Wh-” He started but it was too late.

She turned right back around and left again.

In which Y/N is an annoyance in Harry’s sculpting class.

story masterlist | my masterlist

She already regretted letting her doubts and her nerves get the best of her while she sat in front of Rose and wished it was Harry instead. Maybe he would have said yes. It was just coffee and she knew he drank it. Nothing had to happen from there. She even could have invited him to come with her and Rose, to make it a little less stressful on herself. But she just… did nothing.

“Hey I guess great minds think alike.” Rose commented, glancing over Y/N’s head. And when she turned to follow her gaze it was like the universe was giving her a second chance.

Harry stood in line behind an older couple, his white jumpsuit a thing of the past as he now wore a pair of joggers and a long-sleeve t-shirt with tour dates printed on the back of some band she’d never heard of. She wondered if he took a spare change of clothes with him to the studio. If sometimes he stayed late and had them just in case. If he stayed late, fixing her sculpture in his spare comfy clothes while playing his music throughout the empty studio.

“I’m going to ask him to join us.” Rose was gone before Y/N could protest, not that she really wanted to anyways. She wanted Harry to pull up a third chair at their little round table. She wanted to hear his voice again up close. Feel the heat radiating off of him. Compare her hands to his while he gripped his own cup of coffee. She just wanted him around in general.

And that was so very not typical of her. To care so much about someone.

So when Rose returned without Harry trailing her, she was a little disappointed at first.

“He said he’d come over for a bit once he orders.” She reassured then and it was all sunflowers and daisies in Y/N’s head again. She just hated that Rose had to be the one to ask him because she was too much of a coward to do it herself.

Rose made room and Y/N flipped her head around when he got close, pulling the chair out Rose had readied for him. He sat down with a smile and his cup in hand, placing a little bag on the table in front of him.

“Do you guys want some?” He asked, noticing both girl’s preoccupation with what was in the bag, “It’s a blueberry scone.”

In unison, they gave two completely different answers. Rose agreed eagerly while Y/N politely declined. And the second he pushed the bag towards Rose and watched her pull the delicious little pastry out of it, Y/N regretted a second thing that night.

“So do you like, stay late at the studio or something?” Rose started, making casual conversation with him in a way Y/N wished she was capable of.

He nodded, “Sometimes, if I’m working on something.”

“And are you?”

He stared at the table and blinked a couple times before shrugging, “Sort of, I guess.”

Rose looked up at him confused, “How do you sort of work on something?”

He laughed at himself and sat back against his chair after having been hunched over the table, “Well I don’t really know if it’s going to turn out. So I don’t like to get my hopes up.”

“What is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

And maybe she just imagined it, but Y/N swore she saw him glance at her. It was brief, barely even a second that he looked her way.

What the fuck did that mean?

“Um,” he coughed into his hand and cleared his throat, “well I sculpt a lot of figures of women so… it’s that.”

“Anyone in particular or do you just make them up?”

“Depends. This one’s in particular.” He explained quietly and for some reason it made Y/N’s heart fucking burst through the roof. Like Harry would ever make a fucking piece of art after her likeness.

“Well, that’s cool! Will we ever get to see it?”

He shook his head abruptly, “They take me at least a month to complete, and we only have two and a half more weeks.”

“Oh… well do you have social media where you post them when you’re done?” Rose asked and Y/N hid her face instantly behind her coffee cup, pretending to genuinely be thirsty when she really just wanted to avoid the topic of her already being fully aware of Harry’s Instagram.

“Yeah, um, I have Instagram.”

“What is it?” Rose picked her phone up from the table, readying herself to search his username when he gave it to her. And Y/N could sense the bit of reluctance just before he did, like he either didn't give it out often or didn’t really want Rose to know about it.

“This one?” She asked, pointing at the top of a list of potential Harry accounts and he nodded.

They both watched as Rose scrolled through his photos in a way Y/N had already done. Harry was sitting in a pit of nerves because he never really enjoyed being in front of someone while they saw his work for the first time. He had no idea what she would think of it or why he even cared. But he did. He always cared. And Y/N, well, she just hoped Rose wouldn’t notice that Harry already followed her.

She wasn’t sure if there was a way to easily see that on Instagram, but if there was, she prayed Rose didn’t know about it either.

Instead, Rose tilted her head to the side, looking a little confused. “Oh… you do um…”

Both Y/N and Harry leaned in a little to see the photo Rose had clicked on. It was one of his sculptures. One of the female figures that was most definitely not skinny. Y/N bit the insides of her mouth and prepared for the worst.

“Plus sized women…”

Y/N didn’t move a single inch. Not even to blink. The connotation laced in Rose’s words said everything and she had no prior clue that Rose was so bothered by fat people before.

“Well, I do different body types, yeah.” Harry corrected. He did sculpt plus sized women, but not in the sort of light Rose was making it out to be.

“Sorry,” she glanced between the both of them, “I just didn’t realize.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Y/N finally spoke. Finally did something other than sit in her fear and anger.

“No. I mean… it kind of glorifies like… being overweight don’t you think?”

Y/N thought she was going insane. How did she manage to have a friend who thought that way? How did she go all this time not realizing Rose felt that kind of hatred towards Y/N’s own body? She couldn’t help but feel a wave of embarrassment and panic.

Harry scrunched his face and sat away from her again. “No.” He stated bluntly. “Too many times in art thin bodies are glorified as some sort of ideal.” He argued and Y/N fell madly and deeply in love with him right on the spot because he wasn’t just speaking out of his ass. He wasn’t just blindly following some trend. He poured all his love into his work and he meant every word. “That’s more damaging than the small selection of art focused on trying to correct the way we view beauty… don’t you think?”

Y/N wanted to bow down to him. To sing his fucking praises. To get down on her knees and kiss his fucking shoes.

Rose stared at him a bit stunned for a moment before she glanced at Y/N like her friend might help dig her out of the hole she was in with Harry. But Y/N did no such thing. So, Rose shrugged and put her phone down.

“Guess I never thought of it like that.”

“Right, um…” Harry started gathering himself and it was the first time within the past couple minutes he did something Y/N didn’t approve of. “Thanks for the chat. I’ll see you guys on Saturday.”

When he left, it was awkward between the two like some real truths had finally come out. Y/N didn’t blame Rose for what she said, she probably just genuinely didn’t understand it. She didn’t get what it was like. And frankly, neither did Harry. But at least he made an effort.

“Think he despises me now.” Rose downed the last bits of her coffee in one go.

“No. He doesn’t really seem the type to hate anyone.”

Rose rolled her eyes, “Well after I made a complete ass of myself, I’m sure he’s willing to learn.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, just a little. Because Rose did, in fact, make an ass of herself and Y/N was just glad she was painfully self-aware.

“You ready to go?” Rose asked, pulling her jacket from the back of her chair.

“Um, actually I’ll catch up with you later. I’m going to hang out here a little while longer.”

“You sure? It’s not safe walking home alone once it gets dark.”

Y/N nodded anyways even if Rose scared her a little with that harsh reality. “Yeah. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay well, be safe. I’ll be home trying not to murder myself.” Rose stood, looking genuinely disappointed in herself as she tugged her jacket on. Y/N didn’t really know what to say, so she just said goodbye and left it at that.

Although, within about five minutes of Y/N being alone in the cafe, she was leaving too. Tossing her nearly emptied cup into the bin on her way out of the cafe and then fast walking her ass up the hill again until she reached the studio.

Without giving herself time to second guess, she pushed through the front door and got his attention immediately.

“Wh-” He started but it was too late.

She turned right back around and left again.

He pushed away from his chair and followed her this time, and went right back outside without a jacket and without his shoes on until he caught up to her before she fast-walked her cowardly ass back down the hill.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he grabbed her arm once he was close enough, luckily not having strayed too far off from the studio so that the lights on inside still illuminated her face when she turned around. “What was all that?”

She stared blankly at him. She had no clue what it was. She had a million things on her mind and the second she was alone with him it was like everything that wanted to come out just completely ditched her. Her head went empty and she panicked.

“I, um… thank you.”

He was even more confused. “For what?”

She blinked, shivering when the cold breeze got to her, “For what you said back there.”

He easily glanced right over her head, down the hill at the little coffee shop, wondering what had happened to Rose and why Y/N was alone now.

She took a deep breath and got his attention again, “I uh… to be honest,” she stared at her feet, trying not to distract her train of thought by his lack of shoes, “when I first saw your sculptures they made me feel… seen. If that makes any sense at all.”

“It does.”

She glanced up at him quickly, “Right well, um… I just wanted to say thank you.”

“I know… you told me that already.”

She nodded like she had more to say but never got around to it.

“What happened to your friend?”

Y/N twisted around slightly, glancing down the hill, “She went home. Which is what I’m going to do now… because I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.” She cringed at her own rambling even though it made Harry smile.

He grabbed her hand when she turned to walk away from him however. “Actually um… would you mind if I walked you home? It’s not really safe, you know?”

She didn't even think twice before nodding. There was no way she could disagree to spending more time with him, especially not with the way he was smiling at her now.

“Okay, well, give me like two minutes to get ready… you can come in.” He walked backwards and grabbed the door of the studio, pulling it open for her. It was profound character development when he didn't cut in front of her like the last time he held the door open. Instead, they just shared loved-up smiles as she walked past him and into the warmth of the studio.

He walked up to the front of the room while she stayed in the back and quickly slid his feet back into his shoes. She watched him the entire time, too, while he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and pulled his fingers through his hair as he grabbed a set of keys from the top drawer of his desk.

When he returned to her end of the studio, it was with that same old smile, “Ready, then?”

After flipping the Open sign and turning off the lights, he locked the front door and they made their ways down Justice Hill together. It was just past eight-thirty now, and definitely a time of night she didn’t like walking alone in, no matter how much she tried to convince others she could handle it.

His knuckles brushed hers when they reached the bottom of the hill and when she glanced at him, he pulled his hands into the pockets of his jacket. She was reading way too much into things again. He’s your instructor, she reminded herself, he’s just being nice.

Even so, all the words they’d exchanged the day Rose had the flu flashed through her head again. Surely he didn’t talk to other students the way he had with her. He didn’t follow them on Instagram and slide into their DM’s, did he?

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself when they turned the corner onto Main Street, their backs facing the ocean as the temperature dropped.

She kept her eyes on the cement beneath her shoes and didn’t notice he was pulling himself out of his jacket until it was too late.

“Here,” he handed it to her, leaving him in just his long-sleeve.

“Oh… I’m alright. You’ll get cold.”

He shook his head and insisted, “I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, she took it from him. It was a brown suede jacket that clashed horrendously with her outfit, but she wasn't too worried about that. Not as much as she was worried about it even fitting her. Swallowing and hoping for the best, she swung it around her shoulders while they walked and, by some miracle, fit her arms into it.

All the times she refused jackets from men because of her fears were a total waste.

He smiled and buried his hands into the pockets of his joggers, not exactly convincing her that he was, in fact, fine, but she wasn’t quite done obsessing over the scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses.

“So, um,” she started, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket as she desperately racked her brain for something to say after her mouth had opened without her being fully prepared to spark a conversation. When something finally came to mind, she praised jesus. “How long have you been sculpting?”

He chuckled and she swore she heard his teeth clattering. If she didn’t know he would refuse to take his jacket back, she would have already returned it. “Um… well professionally since I was nineteen.”

“And before that?”

“I apprenticed in a studio where we made pots and plates and stuff like that.”

“Isn’t that professional?”

He tilted his head, “Not really. I was still learning. I did traditional art before getting into sculpting when I was thirteen, and I was really bad at it for a long time.”

She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, which he appreciated. He’d never really known her to think about what she was going to say first before she opened her mouth. “What made you want to make things?”

It was a good question, and one he never really thought about much. He hummed as they continued down Main Street, passing all the little shops that were just beginning to close for the night. “I don’t know really. Just liked making things I thought were beautiful, I suppose.”

That made her heart flutter. All the plus-sized women, according to Rose, he sculpted were things he considered beautiful. Maybe he didn’t actually plan on dating someone who wasn’t thin, but it was the thought that mattered.

“I guess um,” he continued when she was silent, “I got into sculpting people about three years ago. My first attempts were worse than yours so I gave up on it. But then…” he trailed off and right when she glanced at him to ask him to continue, he did, “I met this girl and I fell in love with her and she convinced me to try it again.” He smiled at the memory. “I made her model for me and taught myself by watching videos so I could get her face just right.”

“Are you still together?”

His smile faded, “She…” he huffed, his eyes dropping to the ground and Y/N prepared for the worst when he opened his mouth again, “she had cancer.”

There was a sharp pain in her chest, like someone dug their fingers in and slowly ripped her heart from its cage. She didn’t know what to say and ended up saying the most useless thing to say to someone in his situation.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “It’s alright. But I think what I make now… it’s because of her.”

Y/N nodded and then mumbled about them needing to cross the street at the next light.

Once they were on the other side of the road and headed into her neighborhood on Saltwater Avenue, he changed the subject. “So what do you do for a living?”

She sighed, “I work in marketing.”

“Sounds like you hate it.”

Shrugging, she became very much aware again that she was wearing his jacket and that they were only three houses away from her house and she didn't want Harry to leave yet. “Sometimes… I just really hate capitalism, you know?”

He laughed, the sound of it echoing through the quiet neighborhood and making her shiver, not because she was cold, though, but because it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard, even more so than the other times she’d made him laugh.

“I do know what you mean, yeah.” He agreed, pulling his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest, “Why stay, then?”

“Well… I kind of have a marketing degree…”

He nodded, “So? A degree just means you’re educated. You can do what you want with it.”

She wasn't sure he knew how degrees worked, but it didn’t matter when she saw her front door fast approaching, “This is me.”

He stopped just as she did in front of the little beach house with white paneling and a bright red door. It was cute and the second thing he noticed after the door, was the barking from the other side of it.

“Think Max was missing you.” He said, just seconds before he realized what knowing her dog’s name implied. He didn’t even know why he said it, either. But he’d gone through one too many photos of her mini Australian shepherd that the dog almost seemed like his now too.

“See someone’s been stalking my instagram.” She lifted an accusatory brow while slipping out of his jacket as they stood in front of her picket-gate.

“S’only fair.” He retorted, bringing up the ghosts of her past that made her internally cringe again.

Handing his jacket back, she rolled her eyes, “Touché.”

He took it, folding it over his arm as a quiet moment passed between them. Then finally, he glanced up at her front door and then back to her, “Well, um, it was nice talking. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

He glanced at her lips while she nodded, while she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down on it. It would be the most cliche way to kiss her, if he even had the guts to do that. He had to repeatedly remind himself that… well… nothing. He had no reason not to kiss her, he supposed. Other than her not wanting him to. And he didn’t have the guts to ask her if she would want that.

“Yeah, Wednesday.” She confirmed, giving him a polite smile before reaching around to open her gate and step into her small front yard. She glanced at him before turning away to walk up the short path to her front door and then once more when she waved at him just before disappearing into her house. He waited until she locked her door before he left.

* * *

She fell into the trap of his Instagram again once she was in bed. It wasn’t to check if he’d posted anything new, though, it was to go back even further in his feed to see if he’d ever posted the sculpture he made of his ex-girlfriend. And it took quite a lot of digging, in fact, when she found herself at the very end of his posts. But it wasn’t in vain when she spotted the sculpted face amongst a bunch of old posts about vases and bowls.

Pulling the photo up, it was clear she’d found what she was looking for. Except, there was more than one photo. The first was of his completed sculpture, and according to his caption, his ex-girlfriend, Juliana, had already passed. She swiped left on the photo and was met with one of him and her. She had a beanie on, but it was still obvious Juliana had cancer. The thing that stuck out the most, however was that Juliana was not, in fact, thin. She was beautiful and had the same kind of body Y/N had and Harry loved her enough to sculpt her out of something he could keep forever.

Max jumped up on her bed then and pulled her out of her thoughts. Just the mere possibility of being Harry’s type filled her head with way too much hope. She clicked her phone off and set it on her bedside table. He had all the time in the world just now to make any sort of move and he didn’t. And there was a reason for it, she was sure. It crossed her mind a few times since he’d said what had happened that maybe… Harry was one of those guys that never moved on. She wouldn’t blame him, everyone grieved in their own way. She just felt horrible herself for hoping she had a chance with him when he’d been through something like that and probably wasn’t even emotionally available.

He hid it quite well if he wasn’t. Either way, as she pet Max while he curled up beside her, she completely convinced herself to give Harry some space.

* * *

Rose switched seats for the day to sit beside Julian, who she’d apparently been getting to know quite well the past week without Y/N’s knowledge. So that left Y/N on her own with the few others that sat in the very back of the studio. She leaned on her elbow and doodled on a scrap piece of paper while Harry gave another lesson. Most everyone was at the point of adding limbs to their bodies but Y/N had a really hard time focusing when all she could think about was Harry. And it didn’t help that the only voice she heard was his too.

Frankly, she’d feel like a complete bitch for telling him how she felt after learning about his previous relationship. Even if he had moved on and grieved, it still didn’t feel right. It felt like she’d be taking advantage of something. And with Harry in no hurry to tell her if he even liked her, she was stuck. And it hurt more than she’d like to admit.

She continued doodling while everyone listened, while she glanced at Harry, found him already looking at her, and then went right back to her piece of scrap paper again. She didn’t look up from it either, not when he dismissed everyone to get to work and not when he made a bee line, as nonchalantly as he could, to her table.

“So your friend has a boyfriend now?”

Y/N lifted her head just enough to glance Rose’s way and then retreated to her doodles without giving Harry any attention of his own, “Were you interested?”

His brows furrowed as he watched her, something so completely different about her than the last time they’d been together but he couldn’t figure out what. His eyes scanned down her arm and watched while she drew literal scribbles that he couldn’t make out into any solid thing. “No I was just… making an observation.”

She nodded absentmindedly and he grew frustrated.

He glanced to the people sitting beside her, making sure they were fully engrossed in their projects before he leaned in and whispered just for her to hear, “Are you mad at me?”

That finally pulled her eyes from the desk and onto him where she immediately shook her head, “No,” she said genuinely, hating that he’d gotten that impression. She didn’t want him to think she was mad. He hadn’t done anything. “Why would I be mad at you?”

He blinked a couple times and then opened his mouth but no words ever got the chance to come out.

“Harry! Can you help me please?” Another student shouted from the middle of the class and he turned around to assure that he’d be right there. And when he faced Y/N again, she was back to scribbling.

“If you’re not going to do anything here,” he began, “maybe you should go home.”

She stopped when he walked away. Her entire body immobile. He wanted her to leave. She wanted to leave. She hated that she was upset over what she was upset about and seeing Harry only made her hatred for herself that much worse.

While he preoccupied himself, she packed up her things and left. On her way down Justice Hill, she texted Rose that she wasn’t feeling well.

* * *

It was just past eight-thirty when there her doorbell rang and while she sat on the couch as Max jumped up to bark at the noise, she checked her phone to see if she’d missed a text from Rose saying she was coming over. With her phone empty of any notifications, however, she proceeded with caution.

She picked Max up, mid-bark, and opened her door after unlocking it to find Harry standing on her front porch looking at her with his brows furrowed as he ripped his fingers through his hair nervously.

“Harry what are you--?”

“I’m sorry,” he cut her off, “I’m not sure what I did to upset you, but I’m sorry that I did.”

She glanced down at his feet, finding his same old white vans that he’d recently cleaned all the scuff marks off of, before she faced him again, sighing. “You didn’t do anything, it’s just…” She paused, hesitating. When his eyebrow tilted curiously, she sighed and just came out with it. “I like you. And after what you said yesterday, I just felt stupid for thinking you were into me if you’re still dealing with that.”

He was stunned into silence for an entire five seconds until he cleared his head, “I’m not.” When he saw the way her face fell in disappointment, he clarified, “Still dealing with it, I mean. I’ve had another girlfriend since then. It was hard, but I did move on.”

“Oh.” She readjusted Max in her grip.

“And I am… into you.” He assured. “I was when I first saw you, but then… you opened your mouth.” He laughed optimistically and even though she pretended to be insulted, she couldn’t help but be embarrassed by her past self.

“God, I’m sorry for being so annoying. It was nothing personal, I just--”

He stepped forward and, to Max’s dismay, grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her. Without talking himself out of it this time, but he just didn’t want to listen to her be self-deprecating for one more second. She kissed him back once she was out of the initial shock, and brought her free hand up to the back of his neck to pull him in.

She took a couple backward steps until he was fully in her house and he closed the door shut behind him. Pulling apart for less than five seconds, they never took their eyes off each other as she put Max on the ground finally and then came crashing right back into Harry. The only sound apart from Harry’s moan around her lips as she pressed him into the door, was Max’s nails as he walked across the hardwoods to his spot on the couch again.

He broke away first, a few moments later, with his hands still on either side of her face, pushing her back and giggling when she pouted at him for doing so.

“Sorry, I just wanted you to stop talking,” he whispered while tucking her hair behind her ear softly, so much that just feeling the tip of his fingers on her skin like that gave her goosebumps.

“Well, you’re welcome to shut me up anytime you’d like if that’s how you go about it.” His forehead fell onto hers while he laughed and she did too, breathlessly like Harry had taken all of the air out of her lungs when he kissed her.

“I, um…” He mumbled once they were done laughing and then lifted his head again and began removing his hands from her, “I didn’t close up the studio so I have to go back.”

“Oh,” Y/N nodded, taking a step away from him, “Yeah, you should go do that. I have work in the morning anyway.”

“Can I see you sometime… before Saturday I mean?” He asked and her heart fluttered at just the mere prospect of seeing Harry outside of their regularly scheduled meetings. She’d gotten into the habit of looking forward to her Wednesdays and Saturdays because of him, and it was overwhelming to think of seeing him on a Thursday or a Friday.

“I get off for lunch tomorrow at eleven-thirty to twelve-thirty.” She offered, knowing she’d want to see him again before she was off of work at five. And then she rambled on about why that was her only free time. “I have meetings on Thursdays after work and then I’m too tired to do anyth—“

He cut her off again.

It was quick this time though, but when he pulled his lips from her it didn’t matter, because she stopped. “Eleven-thirty’s fine.”

“Okay.” Was all she said, even though in hindsight she probably should have kept rambling just to get him to kiss her again instead of what he did next.

Which was, reaching behind himself to grab the handle and ease her front door open.

“I’ll slide into your DMs later then…” he stepped aside and pulled the door open just enough to be able to fit himself out of and she stepped back to give him room to do so even if it made her heart ache to see him leaving. And when she seemed confused about why he’d be in her DMs, he clarified. “About where we’ll meet.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” She smiled at him finally and stepped closer again to grab the door from him while he stood in the space between it and her small front porch. They stared at each other for a brief moment, her looking up into his eyes while everything that just happened finally began sinking in and him, glancing at her lips before leaning down to kiss her one last time before he ran off.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #sculptor!harry

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Text

Sugar and Coffee [14]

Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 14.5 OR Chapter 15

➜ Words: 4.7k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“After we’ve rolled our gum paste and cut it, we want to pinch the ends while tucking and rolling all the edges to thin it out and distort the shape. Peonies aren’t perfect after all.” You follow closely after her, taking the ball tool to make press it into the sugar petal and roughening the ridges. Sejeong continues to explain, “It’s a back and forth motion. Just trace the edge. Like that. When you’re happy with it, just add it to the covered center. Slide it up, like so, and then fold them up and make it tight. Overlap them and there we go! We have our bud. Repeat it for the other layers and watch that alignment. When it’s dry, you can colour it with petal dust.” When the older woman finally looks over, she’s stunned. “That’s lovely, Y/N!” “Really?” You turn your head up, eyes burning after concentrating so hard while trying to follow along. “Yes, you’re a very fast learner. I thought I would have to show you at least a few more times, but it looks like you’re on the right track. See? Isn’t this a lot more fun than just piping flowers?” “It’s more realistic.” You smile. “Thanks for showing me.” “It’s not a problem. I’ll be right back, so keep on going.” She pats your shoulder and leaves for the front where her husband should be, probably in consultation with a couple. You continue, folding the petals up so the flower looks like it’s blooming. But then your focus is shattered by a frustrated grunt from across the island. “How are you doing this?” Jungkook’s eyes bore holes into the flowers you’ve completed. You grin at him and stick it into the styrofoam. Brushing your hands off, you walk over to see his attempt of a flower. It appears more like a squashed bug. “Are you adding the glue? Your petals are too thin, Jungkook. That’s why they’re breaking apart. Not too thin, but not too thick. Here, watch.” You demonstrate despite how Sejeong already helped him individually for the past half hour. You take another rolled piece of sugar paste, cut the pattern out and pinch lightly. “See? Try it.” You hand it off and watch diligently over his shoulder as he uses the ball tool. “Like this?” “You can put a bit more pressure than that.” Your hand gingerly wraps around his wrist, guiding his motion. Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you in the meanwhile, staring. He’s noticed it for a while now — it’s hard not to when his eyes constantly stray to you. But it’s clear you’re falling in love with making wedding cakes. That you’ve found a passion within this industry. It makes him glad to see you like this. It's hard though. Since it makes you that much more attractive. “Jungkook?” He puts down the tool and knocks his head back with a long, loud sigh. “Ugh. I can’t do it.” “Psh. Quit whining, baby. You can do it.” Jungkook looks at you, suddenly quiet. He leans in, doe eyes searching your expression. There might be something on your face, but he doesn’t say anything. You start to lean back when he gets too close yet the boy hovers over you, an inch away. You can feel his breath on your skin as the heat rises onto your cheeks. Jungkook’s lips part. “Can’t you do it for me?” You snort, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. “Yeah, right. You wish. You’re never going to learn how to do it if I do it for you.” Jungkook sulks as you return to your station. “I’m not even a fan of flowers. They always die.” “Well lucky for you, these don’t die or wilt. We just eat them,” you chirp mischievously before barking, “Hurry up, we have to learn how to use royal icing and pipe lace!” Jungkook scoffs lightly and tries to continue. Even if he’s a complete amateur, it’s cute to see him so concentrated. The daily routine has fallen into place. The pair of you have learned what you need to do and it’s easy to fall into a rhythm when it’s a consistent cycle of consultations and wedding cake making, practicing techniques and cleaning. And it’s not just you two who are in and out of the kitchen. Yuna comes often to help out every other day, usually flanking Jungkook’s side much to his dismay or being amazed at your piping and sugar decorating. “How’d you do that?” She looks at you inquisitively. “How’d I do what?” “Make those flowers,” Yuna asks, mesmerized at your piping. “Mine looks so…” “Here.” You smile softly to the younger girl. “I’ll help you. When you squeeze the cream out of the bag….” You enjoy the work — it’s fulfilling to see satisfied couples on their beautiful day enjoying a slice of what you’ve created. The cakes are breathtaking when they’re complete too and you can’t believe that you’ve actually done it. That you played a big part in making a day they’ll remember forever. Jungkook seems to like it as well — maybe not as much as you, but at least when he has some time with Namjoon and the two of them work on chocolate. They always discuss things you don’t understand and often turn the kitchen’s temperature all the way down to keep the chocolate from melting. It always makes the rest of you run away to seek warmth. “Have you ever tried sculpting chocolate, son? Made any chocolate showpieces?” “I tried to make a building once but it didn’t really end up working out.” “It collapsed on you?” “It ended up being a mess.” “Ah, I know how that feels. The first sculpture I ever tried was a phoenix and it was a disaster. But don’t worry. You’re in good hands now.” Namjoon laughs heartily. “You’re talking to the master of masters here, self-proclaimed, of course.” Jungkook grins and when asked what he would like to make first, his thoughts automatically stray to you. He hears your muffled voice filter from the front entrance, laughing with Sejeong. “Is it….possible to make flowers? Like a bouquet and a vase or something?” “Yes, great idea actually! It’s simple enough to build the rest of our foundation on.” They start to pull out bowls and saucepans. “Chocolate sculptures basically break down into three types….” You’re glad to be here, even when there were so many rumours that wedding cake internships were the hardest. Somehow, you always feel satisfied at the end of the day. Especially with Jungkook by your side.

“Well, you should congratulate them afterwards” “Why? Just do it after you ask for their names.” “But then you have to do it afterwards anyway and that gets repetitive.” “It’s not repetition to congratulate them on their engagement,” you argue. “It’s called good customer service.” Jungkook scoffs. “I bet they’re tired of hearing it all the time. It’s just unnecessary, and what happens if they’re not happy about it?” Your brow cocks. “They’re not happy to be getting married?” “You never know the situation of these couples.” The little shit shrugs, simply playing devil’s advocate to fuel the banter and relish in how easy it is to make you argumentative. “Maybe it’s a marriage of convenience or an arranged marriage or they’re doing it to get a visa.” “I highly doubt that, Jeon.” “I’m just saying it’s not impossible, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.” “And only congratulate them once?” “Exactly.” “You’re fun at parties.” His arm wraps around your waist and he flashes the biggest smile. “The funnest.” Before you can utter a single word, the bell at the front rings and Jungkook’s warmth is gone from an instant. He takes a step to the side like he never showed you physical affection in the first place. “Welcome to Kim’s Wedding Catering Company. Do you have an appointment?” The woman, with long blonde hair draped down her backside, pushes her sunglasses up her head. She tugs her expensive pea coat that’s keeping her warm over her dress and leggings. She looks familiar somehow, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. “Yes, I do.” “Congratulations on your engagement!” you quickly interject, much to Jungkook’s dismay. You grin at him and he has to repress his smile, simply shaking his head to show his disapproval. The woman smiles. “Thank you. My name should be under Kim Chungha.” Jungkook flips open the book, but your brows furrow. Your brain searches. You’ve heard that name somewhere before. Wait a minute… “There she is!” Sejeong emerges from her office with a wide grin. She opens the gate to waltz to the woman and engulf her in an embrace. “I almost thought you weren’t coming!” “Sorry, I was running late.” Jungkook leans over to you. “Who is she?” “It’s Sejeong’s sister,” you say and he nods, enlightened. “These were the two interns I was telling you about, Y/N and Jungkook. Y/N and Jungkook, this is my dearest, younger sister, Chungha.” “Nice to meet you.” She comes over to shake your hand and Jungkook’s. Chungha turns to her sister, expression endeared. “They’re so cute.” “Yeah, the young ones always are. Full of that hard-working spirit,” she muses. “How long are you staying here for?” Chungha glances at her wrist watch. “I have twenty minutes give or take.” “Perfect. I’ll let these two give you a cake tasting and then you can be on your way.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to look at the design or anything?” Chungha asks, voice moving up a few pitches. “You don’t want me to decide the tiers or look or the flowers or the decorations? I read online that the cake should match the theme of the wedding.” “Aren’t you stressed enough with all your other wedding arrangements? At least let one thing at your wedding be a surprise.” Sejeong scoffs, hands placed on her hips. “If you can’t even trust Namjoon and I, then who can you trust?” “Alright, alright.” Chungha concedes and Sejeong allows the pair of you to take over, not wanting to influence her sister’s opinion too much. She leaves and you follow the usual protocol, taking out the decorated slices of cake on the long plate for her to try. “How long have you guys worked here for?” she asks as she tastes the first one. “For several weeks now.” You quirk your head to the side. “Two? Three?” “I think three,” Jungkook agrees. “I know they were pretty swamped ever since Soohyun went on maternity leave, so I’m glad that they have two more sets of hands here helping out. But do you guys enjoy working here?” The older woman’s eyes are curious. “You can be honest, it’s okay. I won’t tell. I know my sister can be tough.” “I actually really like it. I don’t know about him.” You laugh while hitching a thumb to the person beside you, throwing Jungkook under the bus completely. He’s stunned and Chungha takes the opportunity you’ve set up to tease him too. “Ooh, so you’re the slacker, huh?” “No. That’s not it,” he defends. “I just wouldn’t say I’m passionate about making sugar flowers and piping and stacking cakes.” “Which is half the job,” you chime. “I like the chocolate work and the people I work with,” Jungkook says with a cheeky smirk, outright staring at you. Your face heats like a furnace and you divert your vision elsewhere, mustering a half-hearted scoff and retort. Chungha notices the exchange and smiles to herself. She tries the next slice, and suddenly hums. “I really like this one. Is it chocolate?” “It’s chocolate with ganache.” “Well I guess, I finally found the one!” Sejeong’s younger sister is pleasant. She’s kind compared to the many bridezillas you encounter on a daily basis that request a gluten free, vegan friendly, and dairy-free cake in the shape of a heart with a large, customized slice for Uncle Joe. Chungha even compliments you both as great workers and leaves praise to both Namjoon and Sejeong that you appreciate. You find out that she’s getting married in three weeks — a destination wedding in French Polynesia right by the beach. Apparently the whole venue is ready and the last step was the cake that her own sister was going to make. With the way she describes it, it sounds lovely. You wish you could come see it for yourself. “We’re not taking any bookings since we’re going to have to close up shop for the wedding,” Namjoon mentions passingly. “Oh, how long will you guys be gone for?” “We’ll probably be gone for about a week,” Sejeong says. “We need to get there at least three to four days before Chungha’s wedding to prepare the cake and then maybe two or three days afterwards just to enjoy ourselves. It’s not often we’re in a resort in French Polynesia.” You exchange a discreet look with Jungkook. A week off doesn’t sound so bad. Kind of nice actually. But then Namjoon exclaims— “So you two better start packing!” “What?” You whirl your head over. Jungkook is a deer in headlights. “We’re coming?” “Of course you two are coming.” Namjoon laughs exuberantly. “We’re going to need all the help we can get! The flight and room is counted as business expenses, so you guys don’t need to worry about anything. Think of it as a business trip slash vacation privilege that you get in this internship.” “Weren’t you supposed to tell them about this on their first day?” Sejeong frowns, mouth dropping open. “Did you forget?” “Was I?” Her husband chuckles tensely much to his wife’s exasperation. “Can I come?!” Yuna interjects herself, standing on the tips of her toes, excited by the proposition. “School is done for me then!” “This is Sejeong’s side of the family and I’m sure she already has all her guests already planned. It’s rude to crash someone’s wedding.” Namjoon lolls his head to the side, waiting to see how his niece will argue. The young girl pouts. “Yeah, but Chungha knows me. Plus, I’m not just a guest. I’d be helping with the wedding cake.” “Okay.” Namjoon seems to contemplate it and the girl is hopeful until he smiles, revealing the other trick he has up his sleeve. “But what about your summer school?” “I…” Yuna opens her mouth and then closes it. “I can always skip or...catch up later.” “I don’t think so, missy. Your dad’s going to have a word with me if you fail math again and then you wouldn’t be able to work here at all.” The high schooler pouts, stamping her foot. “This sucks.” “We’ll come back sooner than you expect,” Jungkook says and she looks up at him. The boy smiles gingerly like an older brother to a younger sister. “We’ll get you a souvenir.” “Really?” “Yeah, sure.” That seems enough to placate her and Yuna hums underneath her breath as she continues on. It’s cute to see their interaction. You and Jungkook buzzing with excitement too. You’ve never been to French Polynesia and traveling while working is a win-win. It couldn’t get better than this. // “What a coincidence — I may or may not have been shopping online late last night again and impulsively got myself a sun hat. Now I can put it to good use. I should probably buy a new dress or two or maybe sandals,” you sing-song. Jungkook is amused at how you’re throwing all your money away practically in a fire pit — but you like to argue it’s money well spent. Better than him buying video games, anime figurines, and more IU merch. “Should I get a bathing suit?” “Be careful. You might just blind everyone on the beach.” “Okay, fuck off, Jeon.” “I’m just kidding.” He laughs cheekily and when he passes by you, he taps your nose lightly. You blink and Jungkook boyishly smiles. “You could go topless if you wanted and I wouldn’t mind. Trust me.” “Gross.” Your expression blanches and he cackles, moving away. “I will if you wear a speedo.” “Yeah and I might be the one to get arrested when my goods spill.” Your eyes roll. “Not if we go to a nude beach.” “Is that a proposition?” Jungkook’s irises sparkle in the light. You flick flour towards him. “You wish.” It’s another one of those late nights. The both of you are off work but are still willingly here. The shop is closed, Namjoon and Sejeong gone, but you’re still using their kitchen to practice what you’ve learnt. They’re happy to let you use their space as long as you keep it tidy and clean. Some of Jungkook’s music is playing softly in the background and you’re tapping your foot to the rhythm. You’re working on a sugar rose that’s abundant in petals, dusting the tips with a light pink. There’s a long silence as you concentrate, the jazzy melody keeping the kitchen from being solely white noise. And right when you’re about to finish, Jungkook’s arm slings over your shoulder. He presses to your side and leans over to look. “Woah. Did you do that?” “Who else would’ve, dumbass—” Giggles bubble out of your throat when he starts to tickle you. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it! Jungkook!” He lets up, but is still sulking. “Show me any more attitude and I’m going to hold you down for a tickle torture, brat.” You’re rendered speechless at his dominance, but he pays no mind, too busy looking at the sugar flower. “I was going to say that it’s amazing. It looks real, Y/N. Better than real actually.” “Thanks.” “How’d you get so good so fast?” “I don’t know.” You can’t help being bashful. Jungkook’s stare is intense and you clear your throat obnoxiously, getting a grip. “Maybe cause I don’t suck.” His brow twitches. You jump out of the way before another tickle attack can ensue. You laugh as he starts to chase after you. “Jungkook! We’re not supposed to run in the kitchen! It’s a safety hazard, don’t you remember bakery safety and sanitation?!” “Then stop running, Y/N.” He’s on the other side of the island as you round a corner. Every direction you walk, he mirrors you. “No, you first!” “You started it.” There’s no way you can win against his muscle pig-ness, so your eyes flicker to the door and with a breath held, you book it to the doorway. Unfortunately for you, Jungkook already detected your plan the minute your eyes strayed away from him. And with two strides, he has his arms around your waist. He pulls you up in the air as you giggle and squeal. “Caught you.” Jungkook grins. “I win.” “Okay, okay!” He puts you down in front of his station. There are metal sheet trays on the counter with something rather special on them. “Is this what you’ve been working on with Namjoon?” “Not exactly.” Jungkook smiles. “We had some leftover strawberries that no one was using so I made my infamous chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes.” “They look too pretty to eat.” He did a good job with the piping. The frosting is a light colour of taffy, swirled on top with the chocolate strawberry. “This was what Taehyung was raving about, right?” “Yep.” He picks one up, holding it in front of you. You’re about to take the cupcake from his hands, but he clicks his tongue in annoyance and retracts his arm. “Nuh-uh.” You pout at him, but give in anyhow. Your hand wraps around his wrist so he can’t play any games and you allow him to feed you. You bite into the cupcake and immediately, the moist chocolate is gooey in your mouth. The frost is overwhelming with the fresh taste of strawberry, the texture rather silky. Your eyes widen as you chew, the taste developing, and he watches your reaction with a pleased smile. Jungkook takes the strawberry on top that’s dipped in dark chocolate and drizzled with white chocolate. He urges you to part your lips and you bite down. The chocolate is tempered, falling apart into pieces. But it melts on your palate. The flavour is sweet but the fruit is refreshing, chocolate smooth. It’s an explosion. You almost cream your pants. “Oh my god.” You swallow it reluctantly, wanting to keep the taste forever on your tongue. “Taehyung was right. I think I almost creamed my pants.” His nose wrinkles. “All of you guys are so disgusting. But it’s good, right?” “It’s fucking amazing. Jungkook, you could open up a business just selling these.” You secure your hands on his shoulder, shaking him to his senses. You can’t believe that he’s never thought of this. That he’s never done anything with such an incredible recipe. Jungkook laughs boyishly. You let go, looking at the tray that’s appearing more like a gold mine. “H-Holy shit!” “If I had to make these all day, I think I would be bored to death.” He throws the rest of the cupcake into his own mouth, chewing in his cheek. “Can you give me the recipe then?” Your eyes are glimmering. This is big. If he doesn’t want to make a profit from it, then you can. This and Yoongi and Taehyung’s lemon meringue pie, you’ll be swimming in bills in no time. Jungkook flicks your forehead and your fantasy shatters. “I don’t think so. I might like you, but not enough to sell my secrets.” You pout at him, rubbing the spot he flicked that doesn’t even hurt that much. If he won’t give you the recipe, then you want to at least eat one more. “Can I have another one?” “You can have all of them,” Jungkook says nonchalantly with a grin. Your expression lights up like a lamp. “Really?” “Yes, really. I made them for you.” You wonder if you can reverse engineer this somehow and figure out the recipe. But knowing you, you’ll probably end up burning saucepans trying to get the chocolate right and knowing Jungkook, he most likely threw in a secret ingredient that no one would ever think of. “I’ll pack them up for you.” He grabs a paper box. “If you eat all of them without having dinner first, you’ll have a stomach ache. Dessert’s always last for a reason.” You watch him and it hits you in a delayed manner that Jungkook stayed late when he didn’t need to. He wasn’t working on anything. He just stayed to make these. “Where do you want to eat?” “How about Alberto’s?” “Sure.” Jungkook finishes packing and helps you clean up. He opts to wash the dishes and tells you to go sweep instead. As the boy scrubs the plates and utensils, he sings along to the music and you listen quietly. When all is done, the lights are turned off and the door to the shop is closed up and locked. Your steps and his fall into a rhythm. “Oh, you know that movie you wanted to watch? When Spring Meets Autumn? It’s playing tonight. We can go after dinner and I’ll pay since I have a two for one deal coupon anyway. The reviews aren’t great, but it shouldn’t be too bad.” “What are you doing?” You suddenly stop in the middle of the empty sidewalk, underneath the street lamp that warmly illuminates both of your figures in the crisp, cool night of the city. Jungkook halts with you. The light softly glows on his skin. He tilts his head to the side, doe eyes gazing into yours. “What do you mean?” “I mean this. Us. What is this?” You gesture between your bodies, conflicted to no end as the realization sinks into you. “Going out to eat, going to the movies together…” “We’ve done these things before.” “Yeah, but it's...different.” You can feel it. It’s not like two friends going to grab a bite together or going to the theater to purposely catch a bad movie and shit on it afterwards. There’s something there. You don’t know what it is or even how to explain why the dynamic between the two of you has shifted so drastically. “How so?” Jungkook questions. Maybe he’s egging you on, trying to get you to utter a coherent response. There’s no way he doesn’t feel this too. “Like….this.” You lift your bag that has the box full of chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes. “Baking things for me. Staying with me after work. Waiting for me in the morning. Washing my dishes. Buying me lunch. Getting breakfast prepared. Putting your arm around me. Tapping my nose….just...things….like that.” Slowly the corners of his mouth curl. Jungkook casually digs his hands in his hoodie pocket. “I’m courting you, Y/N.” “What?” You’re absolutely stunned. “This is what people do when they like someone.” Jungkook keeps walking and when he realizes you aren’t following, he spins back around. “It isn’t complicated. I want to spend more time with you, so I am.” Jungkook continues moving, and you snap back to reality. Your body is in motion, trying to catch up to his side. But you’re still dazed, not knowing what to say. But there’s no need for you to utter a word. The topic casually changes like he had been previously discussing the weather. You feel unsettled, not sure what this means. It’s almost been half a year since Seokjin broke up with you. You’re not sure if you’re ready. And it scares you even more that Jungkook makes you want to be ready.

You’re feeling it frequently these days— A panicked sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach. As if you have an inkling of what’s to come and your intuition is preparing yourself. Like seconds before you spill milk, or a glass cup is about to hit the hard floor. Moments before catastrophe that the tickle in your tummy ignites. You can’t move or react quick enough, but your brain knows it’s going to happen either way. You’re quite confident this discomfort is dread, a sense of foreboding. Either that or it’s the feeling is butterflies. Maybe it’s both. You haven’t decided. But you feel it most strongly when you look at Jeon Jungkook. Him and that stupid, big nose of his and those sparkly eyes as if his mom inhaled a tube of glitter before he was born. It’s just awful the way he doesn’t even notice. It’s awful when he scrunches those brows of his, when his eyes are darkened in concentration, and his pouted lips are downturned. It’s awful when he rolls sleeves up to his elbows and his veins are popping from his forearms. It’s awful when his fingers and knuckles are kneading into dough and he’s panting, out of breath and breaking a sweat. It’s awful when he’s focusing hard on his work and trying his best. God. It’s just stressful looking at Jungkook. It’s distracting. You try not to look at him. As if he were the sun and too blinding for you to face. But he’s always in your peripheral. He’s always the person you pick out first in a crowd. No matter what he does, you always seem to pick it up. It’s appalling. “Are you okay, Y/N?” Sejeong’s question brings you back down to the ground, crashing the train of thoughts that should’ve been stopped long ago. “Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just spaced out a little.” You stiffly laugh and she nods. “All ready for the trip?” “Yup! I’m all packed.” “Good. I’m giving you a fair warning that it’s going to be hot, so dress appropriately. Wouldn’t want any of my interns getting heat strokes.” You bob your head and quickly steal another glance into the kitchen area. “Hey, Sejeong. Do you know what Namjoon and Jungkook are working on?” The older woman smiles, stealing a brief glimpse. “Last I heard, they were trying to make a bouquet of flowers.” Flowers? You thought Jungkook hated them.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #btsboulangerie #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook reader insert #sugar and coffee #JUNGKOOK AS A MF SMOOTH DUDE #Y'ALL IM SCREAMING #honestly editing this chapter has healed my soul

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aggresivelyfriendly · 4 years ago

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‘Tis the Damn Season- Chapter 2

Winter Wonderland

Hello loveys! Here is chapter two, a new year, a new world, a new Harry video! Thank you to @dirtystyles for fixing my tenses, which I promptly messed up by revising and adding. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Happy reading- reblogs are love!

Emma was annoyed before she even caught her flight, but she loved airports, so she got lost in watching the peculiar things people did in the there to sublimate what was probably just anxiety. She'd once watched a boys' trip, maybe a bachelor party, get on a plane and begin toasting at 5:30 am. The groom had almost bought the whole plane a round, but one of his mates had stopped him. She assumed this wasn't his first beer of the day, but maybe it was the last of the night before?

People acted different in airports.

That had been her first flight to Holland. When she went to her interview at Wageningen University and Research Center. She really needed to impress, she'd pressed her outfit more than she had ironed anything since she'd been taught to do it. This was her dream school and the climate research they did was groundbreaking and she wanted to be part of it so much that she was willing to do whatever it took. Beyond the heavy course load she could expect during the regular school years, the top students got amazing summer work or internships. She'd promised herself she would not be going home for breaks for some time. Honestly she was just fine with that. There wasn't much left for her in Holmes Chapel.

There wasn't much in Holmes Chapel at all.

She'd wanted to move from the little village the minute they'd moved there when she was eleven. Sure it was cute, picturesque and maybe something out of a Jane Austen novel, but Emma did not read much Pride and Prejudice. Though she definitely had seen Mr. Darcy come out of the pond. Honestly, she was more of a nonfiction girl, and she like investigative reporting. She'd missed London pretty much immediately and begged to go back for months. It was a time in her life she would have called the absolute worst, until it became the foundation for the best years. Emma made really good, motivated friends. Big dreams were common in little Holmes Chapel, so Emma fit right in. It may have never felt like home exactly, but she made a home of those friends.

Gemma was one of them. She had done her share of Austen reading. Reading in general, and she had the sweetest family. Her little brother Harry was so nice to their mum, though he loved nothing more than bugging Gemma. Like all little brothers. She'd heard at least, Emma was an only child.

All her parents' hopes and dreams rested right on her shoulders.

But theirs weren't nearly so weighty as her own. Even then she knew she was going to save the planet, or at the very least reduce the number of climate refugees.

Now, after two summers in Reykjavik, she was more into sustainable energy and zero waste production, but she was still trying to change the climate game.

She would really rather be going back to Iceland now. A friend had invited her to see the Northern Lights. They were most active in the winter and she'd only caught glimpses of them during her summer internships. It may have been the experience of a lifetime.

But her mother had laid on a major guilt trip. Emma hadn't been back to little Holmes Chapel in two years. She'd come home that first Christmas because she was tired, overwhelmed, still adjusting to her school schedule, and a little homesick. Her mother told her so. She'd even skipped the Twist's Christmas party, which was the shindig of the season. She'd slept right through it, and only seen Gemma at the pub later. She hadn't been up for company, but Gemma was family.

This year? After a year's absence, she'd be going. And she'd receive the hometown-hero-returns treatment. Though she was sure her reception at the airport would consist of her mum with a single sign. When she did make it to the pub, she might see a few friendly faces besides Gemma. Last time? Since she'd missed the party, she didn't have anything to contribute to the discussion. She'd just listened to everybody else rehash it. Normally, that would be fine, but she already felt removed, and had always felt a bit like a screw among nails in Holmes Chapel, so she was determined to go to the party this year. She had all kinds of plans, how many hours she'd socialize, rest, and read.

The flight was easy at least, and the train up to Manc doubly so. She liked to sleep on trains, something about the rocking, and she resumed her old habit of sleeping wrapped around her backpack.

"Welcome home, love!" Her mother shouted and Emma actually got a little misty, just like her Mum. Maybe she should try to get home more than once a year, but there's just so much she wants to accomplish. She even had a list. All the things she wanted to do before she turned thirty. It's been revised of course, she'd not unrealistic. Once the list is complete, she can have a life outside her ambitions, like a real boyfriend.

There's not much time for anything but hook-ups for the next ten years., and Emma was ok with that.

Up til now. She might need another pass at her bullet points, or to at least read her goals again when she got to the Twist's new brick beauty of a house. Harry had bought his mum a new home, one not watched as closely by his obsessive fans. They hadn't found this one yet.

Emma could see why they followed him around so, and why some people risked it all for a certain face. His face, his very famous, gorgeous face.

It was so weird that Harry wasn't just Gemma's little brother who grew up cute anymore. His music wasn't really her style, though some of the songs were catchy and Emma did like his latest album. She caught herself humming about life stories long after she heard it, and she seemed to hear his latest single playing in lots of shops and restaurants, even in Holland.

At the party, she also found herself in the same room as Harry more often than she can find an excuse for. Her eyes also seemed to find him a lot, she knew because of how many times she had to whip her head away quickly. As a tactic, that didn't work because he was always either already looking at her,or he immediately turned like he knews where she was. Maybe her gaze had weight, or she was as subtle as an axe.

When he smirked at her the tenth time their eyes lit upon each other, she choked on her wine.

What the fuck?

She'd finally got herself calmed from that little encounter. Mostly because she left the room to find a loo. The water she splashed on her face was cold and woke her up. "What are you doing, girl?" Emma asked her reflection but found that she couldn't help but smile at herself, and bite her lip. The flush on her cheeks was lovely; she could blame the wine, everyones favorite excuse.

An hour later she was pleasantly tipsy, the kind of buzz you could maintain and still wake up the next day not regretting, and she'd gone to the kitchen to grab another glass to nurse her merry state. "Be right back. We need another round!" She was calling back to Gemma when she bumped into a tall lanky body. She caught his hips with one hand and found them with just enough give to grip. "Oof!" She exclaimed before looking up to see how much damage her wine had done. Good thing she drank white, there was a growing spot ok his sweater. Wait a second! Then she coasted her head up the lovely lilac sweater toward his face. "That's my sweater." She said first off, bopping his chin.

"Um, no, mine now." Oh, his voice was adorably thick with drink too. "You give it to Gem or something?"

What was he talking about? Her eyes stayed with his and she was kinda trapped in his greens when she realized he meant the sweater. She had, right. "I'm yeah, years ago. Was my favorite and we shared it a lot. I decided she should have it before I moved. And I guess she decided you should have it when you moved. Though I expect your life change was a little different than mine. Yours was like overnight and mine a life long plan, and oh my god, Emma stop talking." She would have kept rambling except, well, he kissed her, right on the mouth and held his overfilled lips to her own. No, overfilled wasn't true. They were full, but not crazy big, they just were so plump at the edges. God, when had she thought about Harry's lips so much.

Right now, as much as she could think of anything, it was Harry's lips. She'd relaxed into his rhythm and was following his lead when her free hand took on a mind of its own and coasted from his hips up his back and into his hair. He groaned a little before he disengaged and then chuckled.

"Well," he said as the offending hand went to her mouth. Maybe she did need to stop drinking. That was bold, unlike her, and strange. But wait! What just happened? Why did he kiss her?.

"Huh?"

"I think that beat my last mistletoe kiss and I'd convinced myself that was impossible!" He was giving her a knowing look, like a wink in his smile. Did he kiss somebody else tonight? She looked up at him and tried not to be annoyed, or feel jealous, or focus on the shape of his mouth, still a little wet from her kiss. Was he just hanging out by the mistletoe like a weirdo? Seemed odd for a bloke people were lining up to meet, let alone kiss.

"Why'd you do that?" She found her voice to ask. It was rusty, like she hadn't just been laughing and talking for hours with people she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed.

"You bumped into me under the mistletoe. I assumed you wanted me to." Well, she did while he was kissing her, but now he was being a bit of an ass.

"Um, you were just in the way..."

"Well, I'll have to find myself in your path as often as possible then." Ok, that was cute, a bit cocky, like the smirk on his face. Then his face flushed and his dimples were so deep and she decided that shift, from smirky pop star to hometown mumma's boy was the best quick change she had ever seen. "Ah, see, that got you to smile!" He bopped her nose and she knew her own dimple pressed in even further.

"Nah, you're a little shit, but I like your smile. Especially when you blush." The color he turned then made her laugh out loud. She felt drunk when she realized how long they'd been staring at each other grinning. She was counting her drinks a second later when he caught her off guard again.

"Where'd you just go?"

"Wha'?" Oh boy, she'd dropped her t, she was really home now.

"We were having a moment." He motioned between their faces. "Then you went in your head. Lost your attention, didn't like it at all."

Then he caught her hand, their fingers entwined together like their lips moments before. It was hot in there. Emma shook her head and glanced around, but she didn't untangle them. She looked at her boots and felt shy. But Emma wasn't shy, Harry used to be shy, though now he was bolder than her, apparently.

"Listen," he started and she looked up to his eyes again. When had they gotten so attractive? What had gone on with him in the last couple years? Other than the international superstardom she supposed, but he'd grown into himself, like expanded his skin and presence. He was cute, but all she could think was that the end of puberty was rarely so damn kind. His fingers even seemed attractive, long and slim and she was imagining him playing piano, but then the instrument was her body, and damn, she was in her head again. She could feel that her eyes widened comically. She knew her pupils were blown. When was the last time she'd gotten laid? Apparently too long if holding hands had her imagining unspeakable things and holding in moans.

He smirked then, she guessed he knew where she went then. "Listen," he leaned in close and she nodded, their noses brushed. He exhaled and her lips tingled. "Where are you staying?"

"Huh?" She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say, but that wasn't it.

He giggled, and it was cute enough that Emma felt a splash of awareness hit her face. She looked around to see if anybody saw them flirting if she could disengage her gaze. "Are you at your parents?"

"Oh, um yeah?"

"Are you sure?" He laughed then and the brush of his thumb across the back of her hand was warmer than the mulled wine in her belly.

"No, I'm sure, just not sure why you are asking." She nudged him and realized a bit too late that her nipples touched him first, she was only half sorry this top meant no bra when she felt the friction.

It was his eyes' turn to widen. "Um," he exhaled and she missed his eyes when he quickly glanced down her dress like there might be a cookie there and then up quickly like he remembered he wasn't supposed to have any sweets. "Ok, um," he said after he visibly took hold of himself, "I was just hoping you had a room above the pub or something."

She knew her face called him idiot better than her mouth could.

He rolled his eyes, "I know, it was a shot in the dark!"

"Did you expect me to slide you my room key if I did?" Emma flashed her eyebrows like she wasn't imagining him finger fucking her with his piano hands a moment ago. "Isn't that your move?" She teased, kind of. She imagined he knew his way around hotel rooms, and women in them.

"Heeeey," he was being cute but the corners of his eyes dropped a moment and the green dulled. "It's not like that."

Emma scoffed.

"Well, I mean," his other hand found hers and now if anyone was watching them they were getting a show. "If it was like that, I wouldn't say no, but just want to hear about Holland, seems so amazing, and where you are in the summers..."

She could see him racking his brain.

"Iceland." They said together. And then giggled together too.

"You been keeping tabs on me?" She leaned forward and enjoyed the brush of him on her again. He shivered.

"Yeah, always admired you." He looked at her through his lashes. "I'd like to hear more reasons you're the most impressive person I've ever met."

"But I don't have a place." She reminded him.

"If I got one?"

"What?" She thought she knew what he was asking, but she wanted a minute to think about her answer, to quiet the resounding YES that echoed in her body and her mind. Because he might have said it wasn't like that, but they were chest to chest and had been holding hands since they kissed moments ago.

He looks down chagrined at his pigeon toes, before his gaze lit on their hands, then her face. "If I got a room at the Vicarage? Would you come with me? Really! We can really just talk." He assured and then the cocky boy who found his stride in hotel room assignations showed out, "if you want." Those dimples were deadly.

"Can it be the Boar's Head?" She knew she'd showed her cards, by asking for a room the town over.

He nodded and grinned like he'd just hit the hotpicks. "It can be the Boar's Head." He nodded like a dashboard bobble head. "I have to make nice here a bit longer, but I'll call now, and put your name on, so you can go when you're ready."

They'd been standing close for just a few more seconds when Gemma said- "Harry! Get off. God you are such a flirt!" But she was in her cups too, so they laughed it off.

The next hour, Emma stayed near Gem, but her eyes tracked Harry. Once, he came by and stole a sip of Gem's cocktail off her and Emma was glad her friend's ire distracted her, because Emma was watching him giggle like a fiend and the contraction of his throat. When their eyes met, she knew hers made a promise. One she wanted to keep.

So now she was alone in a couple of quaint rooms a town over, waiting to have sex with Gemma's little brother, Harry Styles.

She was torn, half of her wanted to open the bottle she'd swiped from the alcohol table at the party. The other half wanted to call an Uber and go back to her parents' house, where she should have stopped and grabbed some clothes so she wouldn't have to do the walk of shame.

But getting clothes would have meant forethought; she will deny that, especially to herself.

Emma had just opened the uber app and cursed their rural area when she heard a key in the lock.

Like a gun at the races.

They were never going to just talk. She'd just dropped her phone on the couch before Harry laid the first kiss on her.

The first kiss she planned to really remember, that is. Their mistletoe kiss had caught her off guard enough that she could only remember the feelings, not the details.

Yet, she was here, kissing him in a rented room after sneaking out of his mum's Christmas Eve party, on the strength of those feelings.

The kiss started strong and sweet, just like she takes her tea. He didn't taste like tea, he tasted like wine, Merlot maybe, but it could have been any red. And his tongue had this delicious slither to couple with its intoxicating flavor. She was in for a penny when she rode over here, but now there was no way she was going anywhere but to bed with him, no matter how pound foolish. He was nipping at her bottom lip and mouthing at her jaw before he sucked an almost mark into her collarbone and love bites onto the sides of her neck. He was just about to hit a particular sweet spot while working off her clothes, his hands were at her zipper. The cheeky boy, and she felt like they should at least hit pause even if stop was off the table.

"Harry," she moaned, or breathed, it was a sound she'd never made before.

"Hmmm?" He asked without stopping any of his forward momentum.

"I thought we were gonna talk." That one was like a laugh, there was a trill in her voice certainly.

"We'll talk afterwards." He said it like a statement, but looked to her for confirmation. At her nod, her skirt dropped and his hands were all over her bare ass above the stockings she'd worn to feel sexy but hadn't expected anyone to see. She normally would have worn tights. Thick ones, certainly, in Amsterdam. It would have been smarter here too. It was at least as cold. She'd been feeling that mix of confidence and self consciousness one gets when seeing people from your past when you think you've leveled up. She wanted to feel her best, look her best. Sexy, even if no one was interested. She's thankful, both for his interest and her unintended preparation. When he caught the sides of her knickers while her shirt and bra were as untouched as his clothes, she figured she needed to get with it. She'd been clutching his shoulders and his gorgeous hair instead of doing anything of use to their current pursuit.

Emma pulled at his shirt until it came over his messed up disheveled hair and laughed at the hodge podge of black ink haphazardly spread over his torso and one arm. "What's this then?" She said between licks of his tongue.

"After, we talk after!" He'd gotten her shirt unwrapped. She liked that detail of the shirt too, a sexy secret, like her matching bra. He pulled back to stare and was distracted long enough for her to give him another look over. He does look sexy in his decorated skin.

"What do they mean?" She liked things to make sense, her world was ordered, scientific.

Harry shrugged. "Lots of different things. Or nothing. Now can we please go to bed and we can discuss my stupid tattoos after I've had you."

"Oh fuck,'' was all she could say to that. He smirked and hoisted her up his hips to carry her through the open frame to the bedroom. He pulled her knickers free as soon as she was done bouncing.

She'd just about caught her breath when she saw him go for the button of his jeans. She lost it again when his thick bulge became visible and he pushed his tight jeans forcibly down his thighs. "Damn!" She looked at him with a glint.

He mounted the bed and spread her open, kissed her right knee over her stocking, which he seemed intent in keeping on, and looked pointedly at her center. She was swollen, his eye contact with the evidence didn't help. "Damn!" He echoed and she would have laughed but Harry, Gemma's sexy little brother, was kissing up her right thigh, with just a few licks and nips to her hip creases and so damn close to where she wanted him before he was testing the fuck out of her by kissing and licking and loving her left thigh. Ignoring her desperate need.

"Fuck, Harry. Please." She'd got the bedspread balled in her hands and she would normally have removed that before considering getting into the bed but she was also usually in pajamas and alone.

The filthy things he was saying were way worse than whatever could have been on the bedspread. Though she enjoyed them a great deal more, and it made her happy to have taken off everything already.

Harry had finally gotten to the main course. Only After her begging got loud enough to be heard by the room next door and the innkeeper, she won't make eye contact with anyone tomorrow. Maybe not even Harry, if he stayed. Emma had his full attention now, she could learn about all the things his mouth could do. The wet flat of his tongue caressed her like she was a bit of deliciousness and sunk down to find her creamy center.

"Fuck!" She yelped when he sealed his mouth over her for a tight suck and rub until she was rolling and writhing and fighting against the arms banded around her thighs. He laid one across her belly to hold her down.

"Do you like that?" He kept going because her answer was obviously yes. When the arm not restraining her passion made its piano fingered way between her thighs to do the thing she'd imagined earlier, sliding in tightly where she was wet and wanting, she clenched down on his three fingers and said his name.

He slid up her body and reached for the condom, but Emma had gotten her head back around to stop him before he got it on. She hated the taste of rubbers, and she'd like to know his flavor first. "Wait." She leaned forward between his legs and stroked him base to tip. He really was well favored, and not just from the neck up. She pressed his length to his stomach and licked the seam from his balls around and up to his head before she got a mouthful of him. Now he was her dessert. She didn't even think to try the pies and things at the party, she had been so preoccupied with the taste she'd had of him. It was but an appetizer for this. He leaked on her tongue and she moaned and hummed.

"Jesus! Emma! Stop, I'm gonna!" He pushed her back. And she was a little mad he'd taken away her sweetie. "Enough. I'd like to get inside you."

That was a suggestion she could take. So, she lay back and thought of anything but England while he stroked his skinned cock and spat over the tip. God. The way his stomach flexed caused an aftershock to recapture her. "Harry?" His name a plea. His knees hit the bed and her heels pressed him toward her, toward them.

"God, I've never seen you like this!" She'd have to ask him what he meant by that, later. Then he nodded, using his thumb to press his cock head inside the tight ring of muscle at the top of her entrance. Except he was a little low.

"Uhh!" She glanced down and grabbed him to redirect. "Wrong one." She tried not to laugh.

"Sorry, might be a touch too eager." He confessed: She's now laughing, openly. "Hey! It may have went right in, as wet as you are?"

Now she'd be indignant if he wasn't so ridiculous. "Are you really complaining about how wet my pussy is?"

"No, no, that would make me an idiot right?" He asked and found the right spot to start pushing in.

This was always her favorite part, and since this was her favorite fuck already, she knew the pop when he got the lip of his head in would be enough to begin her tip over the edge.

She moaned even before he caught the exact right angle to square her desire and she clutched his back and lifted her bottom to chase his withdrawal. "It would, god, you're perfect, an idiot."

"Oh God, Em!" She liked that. And the kisses to her mouth and chin and neck. Messy and wet and out of control. He'd gone from deliberate and self possessed to a man overcome as he rolled his hips up and into her and against that delicious place inside.

"Harry, don't stop. I'm close." Her head fell back when he slowed down just enough to draw out her orgasm, bring it to the surface and ride it home. He stroked her through and then brought his hands under her ass to lift her pelvis up to his driving thrusts, more deliberate and direct than the ones he used to get her off. She watched his face scrunch, and then open, his jaw down and his eyes closed until he smiled and licked his lips.

It's that face she decided she wanted to see as much as she could.

And she did, it was made better when he bit his lip and laughed. "Am I a perfect idiot then?"

She was blissed out and couldn't stop herself saying, "no you're an idiot with a perfect cock!" He was just pulling out of her then, and she was so embarrassed when he stood up to tie off the condom and preened.

"Am I now?"

She was the idiot. "I'll Pay you to forget I said that!" Emma wants to scurry to the bathroom and get out of here. She's already feeling shame, may as well get the walk over with.

"I don't need any money." He's laughing now. Shes scooting to the restroom when he catches her hands and holds her close. "Where are you going. You owe me, you're gonna pay me in conversation."

Wait, he still wants to talk, even after they've done what they came to do. "Ok." Shes still a little embarrassed and pulling away.

"No, no, stay and talk, come back to bed and tell me about my perfect co—" she's clamping her hand over his mouth.

"Only if you shut up, and I have to have a wee first."

"After!" He begged. "I wanna hear about school and everything. What exactly you're doing to save the world."

"I'll tell you, I have to go after, prevents uti's and such." She hated being clinical, well right now.

"It does?" He asked and she nodded. "That's good to know."

She wants to be embarrassed, but his ease when she comes back from washing up, the way he is still naked and opens his arms to her, helping her find the right spot on top of him where they are both comfortable, it makes her less self conscious, about her little factoid, her nudity, or that she's essentially slept with him right off.

She sighs and is about to ask about the giant butterfly, moth, when he speaks. "Tell me about Holland, about school." His voice is like molasses, and her words come out as slow.

"It lovely, and school is so hard, some times I might as well move onto campus, live in the library-"

"You don't live on campus?" She shakes her head. "Do you ride your bike into town?"

"Yes, I do."

"Oh, you must send me a picture of you on your bike. In a dress." He wants to text.

"Then I want updates on any stupid tattoos you get!" She counters.

"You think my tattoos are stupid?" He pouts, and she's captivated by that face.

"Very." She kissed both sparrows beaks. "But their also sexy."

He likes that, his dimples say so. Then he asks about Iceland and they talk for an hour or more before she's over him, swallowing his moans. They have another go in the morning before leaving, he's hard to convince that she'll be fine with an Uber. If he drives her, it'll blow their cover.

She wound up in his suv anyway.

For the next week they snuck out to warm up the backseat of his Range Rover, her mother's kitchen counter, his childhood bedroom, and then the inn again the night before she left. Just for a few hours, she'd told her mum she was going to the pub to say goodbye to mates.

Their goodbye meant his face remained her go-to for the next year whenever she was alone in her room, at night, missing him.

"Can I have you again, next year? For Christmas?" He'd asked.

Who could say no to that?

She faced those plans unafraid, the ones they made, for the whole next year.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #winter wonderland #chapter 2

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winryofresembool · 4 years ago

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Caleo fic: It’s all about the name

Chapter 5

Summary: Calypso is a barista at a coffee shop and one day she gets a customer who refuses to give her his real name. At first he seems really annoying but eventually Calypso finds out not all is what it looks like on the surface. (Coffee shop AU!)

a/n: OK, I lied about this being the final chapter (no one is surprised). I decided it'd be better to split the final part into two because it was getting pretty long and I didn't want to rush it, so here we go. At least we'll get some answers in this chapter :'D The 'epilogue' will be posted soon, hopefully tomorrow already or on Tuesday the latest so stay tuned for that!

Hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think!!

Words: 2,7k+

Genre: fluff, humor

Warnings: none

previous chapters / AO3

...

For a couple of months the Bad Boy Supreme showed up at the coffee shop pretty much every day. Sometimes he stayed a bit longer - those days weren’t that busy at the garage so Jo was fine with him staying – and sometimes he just dropped by to say a quick hi to Calypso, but he still always came. That’s why, when he suddenly didn’t appear anymore, Calypso got really worried. Had something happened to him? Had she done something wrong? Those questions and more went through her head.

On the first day that he was away, Calypso kept glancing at the clock every couple of minutes, and back to the door, but she didn’t see the familiar curly hair anywhere. When a full hour had gone since the guy’s regular break time, Calypso was visibly restless and pacing back and forth behind the counter. It got to a point where Reyna had to pull her to the backroom to talk to her.

“Are you really that wound up over that guy? Wow, Calypso, I knew you liked him but… this is getting kind of out of hands. I’m sure there’s some perfectly understandable reason why he isn’t coming today; he is probably just too busy or has caught a cold or something else completely normal.”

“But… what if it’s something I did?” Calypso asked with frustration, pulling the end of her braid.

“You haven’t done anything wrong; I saw him smile as wide as you can possibly imagine when he left yesterday. So, please calm down,” Reyna tried to reassure her.

Calypso moped at her. “Easier said than done. But about that earlier: who has said anything about me liking him? I’m just worrying about him… like you’d worry about a friend?”

“Goodness, Cal, you should see your face every time he appears. I can see you trying to keep a poker face but your eyes say ‘bésame ahora’,” Reyna teased.

Calypso did have a pretty good idea of what that sentence meant even though she didn’t know a lot of Spanish (although she was more motivated to learn now that she knew the Bad Boy Supreme was a Spanish speaker as well). She felt her face heat at Reyna’s implications but still wasn’t ready to admit that her coworker may have been right.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying now,” she claimed but Reyna didn’t buy it.

“You definitely do,” she stated. “You’re not that amazing an actress, you know. Your voice got squeaky and I could compare the color of your face to tomatoes.”

“Whatever.” Calypso rolled her eyes. “Can we please go back to work now? I don’t want to keep the people waiting.”

“You know just as well as me that it’s quiet at this time of the day,” Reyna reminded her. “But sure, we can go back as long as you’ll stop pacing around like crazy.”

“I will,” Calypso promised. “I don’t owe anything to that guy anymore and he doesn’t owe anything to me either so he doesn’t have to come here if he doesn’t want to.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Reyna.

“He still hasn’t told you his name?” Reyna asked with surprise, having noticed Calypso calling him ‘that guy’. “That’s so weird. I thought he’s just into you as you’re into him.”

“Well, we’re just playing this game…” Calypso started hesitantly. “Ugh, forget about it. I could easily ask his coworkers or something but I don’t want to pry. He’ll slip it eventually.”

“Okay, I’ll just call him Bad Boy Supreme then,” Reyna shrugged before going back to her work.

…

Days passed. The first few days Calypso tried to calm herself down by telling herself that her mystery guy really was just busy and he’d surely come back soon enough. But once a couple of weeks had gone since his last appearance, she became restless again. This time Reyna and the others decided that it was better to just let her be that way until it passed because there really wasn’t much they could say to comfort her. As a result, Calypso seemed more effective in her work but mistakes also happened more often and she had to apologize to her customers at least twice as often as she had previously. The manager luckily brushed it off as a ‘learning process’.

Eventually that phase ended, though. After a few months had gone by, Calypso started to get convinced that the Bad Boy Supreme was not coming back. She was now calm again but at the break time she still kept glancing at the door sadly, hoping to see the familiar figure. She hadn’t realized how much she really had been looking forward to his visits until they abruptly ended and she wished she had gotten a chance to tell him that before he disappeared. But maybe it was better this way; maybe she had been the more interested one, just like in all of her previous relationships.

On one busy afternoon, Calypso wasn’t thinking about the mystery guy a lot anymore. Sure, she had briefly noted that it was the usual break time again, but she was no longer expecting to see him and was focused on serving the customers that were currently present. That’s why, when the bells above the door rang again and in came a new customer, she didn’t pay a lot of attention to him at first. She just nodded and said a quick hi before finally raising her gaze from her work to see who had arrived. Her mouth involuntarily opened into the shape of ‘O’ when she finally registered who it was. There was no mistaking that curly hair and the mischievous, yet warm, almost chocolate colored eyes.

“Oh my gods, it’s you!” She finally managed to squeak after gulping a couple of times so she could get some voice out of her mouth. Her face melted into the widest smile she was capable of and she had to contain herself so she wouldn’t jump over the desk to hug him. “I didn’t… I wasn’t expecting…” She cleared her throat and said with a lower, fake angry voice: “I mean, you’re really late, mister.”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, but still seemingly happy to see her. “Sorry ‘bout that, Sunshine, a lot of weird things happened recently and I just couldn’t come here even though I wanted to.”

“Well, you’re going to have to explain to me what exactly happened,” Calypso demanded. She couldn’t keep her face angry for long, though. “But before that, what do you want to drink? A double espresso?”

“You know well it was a one time occasion and I didn’t even get that drink!” The guy reminded her. “I’d like your freshly made orange soda today, though. It reminds me of Sunshine.”

“Okay, coming up,” Calypso nodded, wondering if the air conditioning didn’t work that day because she was suddenly feeling rather warm.

“Not gonna ask my name today, are you?” the guy asked with amusement while watching her do her work.

“No. I don’t need to,” Calypso said mysteriously without raising her eyes from the cup.

“Oh?” he asked curiously but she didn’t elaborate so he moved to the other counter to wait.

Calypso took her time with the soda and the guy seemed to wonder if she did that on purpose, until finally she stepped forward and gave him the plastic cup with his ‘name’ on it.

“Alright, Bad Boy Supreme, here you go!”

The guy’s thoughtful frown melted into a huge smile immediately. “Did… I just hear right??” he asked and checked the cup. “Did you just say the magic word?”

“I did, but don’t you dare to make a big number out of it!” she warned, but the twinkle in her eye was enough to tell that she wasn’t being serious.

“No worries, no worries, I won’t,” the Bad Boy Supreme reassured her, raising his free hand up. “But what made you change your mind? I thought you refused to say it?”

“I don’t want to tell,” Calypso said reluctantly.

“C’mon, just do it.”

Calypso didn’t answer for a while, pretending to be more interested in swiping the table. When the guy didn’t show any signs of giving up, though, she finally spoke. “The truth is that I promised to myself that if you’d show up again, I would finally give in. Well, I did it. You won. Go ahead and laugh.”

“No, I won’t. That’s kinda sweet of you.” There was a short pause. “Well, I promised to tell you my real name, so here it comes: I’m Leo. Leo Valdez,” the Bad Boy Supreme said sheepishly and looked a bit embarrassed for some reason.

“Leo,” Calypso tasted the name on her tongue. “I think I like it. It does suit you better than Bad Boy Supreme.”

Leo took a swig from his cup to get something to do with his hands. “Eh heh. Listen. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier. It was pretty stupid of me… I didn’t intend to keep that game going that long because I actually wanted you to learn to know me better. And I wanted to learn to know you better.”

Surprising even herself, Calypso said: “Don’t worry about it. If I really would have tried, I’m sure I would have found out somehow, for example going to your boss and asking her. I… had kind of fun trying to guess it. I wasn’t too far off with that Leon, right?”

“That’s true,” Leo grinned. “I was kind of trying to bluff when I started talking about Ed instead so you wouldn’t notice my reaction to that name.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that!” Calypso exclaimed. “I should have gotten the hint.”

“Well, you know now and that’s what matters, right?” Leo asked.

“Yeah. Um, and about that thing you said earlier…” Calypso blamed the air conditioner for feeling even warmer than a moment before. “I’d like to learn to know you better as well. Although thinking about it, you’ve probably told me more than you even realize already. About Emmie, Jo, Georgina, your friends, family, Festus… But hey, you promised to tell me why you were gone so long, so come on, let’s go sit there so you can fill me in.”

Calypso’s workmates knew better than to say no to her when she suggested having a break so she could talk with Leo, and they went to sit at an empty table opposite to each other.

“So, what happened?” Calypso asked once they were seated.

“Well… remember how we one time talked about our future dreams?” Leo asked, to which Calypso nodded. “After that talk I started doing some maths in my head - yeah, laugh ahead, but I can actually count surprisingly well - and discussed the topic also with Jo and Emmie and they said they’d be more than happy to help me give me a chance to continue studying. Practically, it means they’re willing to give me more flexible work hours and they promised that I can continue staying at their house until I want to or have enough money to move to a place of my own. We have some mechanics come and go and many of them stay there for long periods of time so it’s no problem for them. Anyway, after that I learned that the next entrance exam for the mechanical engineering program would be held in about a month so I needed to start studying right away. That’s a big reason why I didn’t have time to come here, but it was worth it, because guess what…” He pulled a big envelope from his bag. “I just got this today. And it says…” he did some drum rolls on the table with his fingers. “I got in!”

“That’s amazing!” Calypso exclaimed and couldn’t hold herself still anymore, instead getting up from her chair to hug him. “I’m very happy for you!”

“Of course it means I’ll have less time to come here in the future but we’ll make it work, right?” Leo said a bit uncertainly once they separated, blushing hard.

“What do you mean with ‘we’?” Calypso asked, not wanting to give herself false hope.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… I… that… of course I still wanna keep seeing you! Why do you think I came to this coffee shop every day for several months even though I don’t even drink coffee?” “You… came because of me? I mean, I thought…”

“For such a smart seeming girl you really are dense,” Leo noted. “Of course I came because I liked you. You made quite the first impression already on the day we met.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, then?” Calypso wanted to know.

“Because at first I thought you were way out of my league and probably hated me and then you told me you had recently broken up with someone and… yeah. Multiple reasons. And then the college thing happened and my friend Jason got into an accident and… Sorry, I guess I didn’t mention that yet,” Leo finished when he noticed Calypso’s expression.

“Wait, what? Your friend got into an accident? Is he OK?” Calypso asked with concern.

“Yeah, he’s gonna be OK. He had luck on his side because that car accident could have ended a whole lot differently but he’s now recovering in the hospital. The doctors expect him to make a full recovery. But we were definitely quite worried about him for a while.”

“I’m sorry… But I’m happy he’s getting better.” Calypso said, resting her hand on Leo’s for a moment as a gesture of comfort.

“Yeah… It’s a relief…” Leo nodded absentmindedly.

“You sounded like you wanted to tell something else as well.” Calypso remarked after a while.

Leo seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “Well, you’re not wrong… Did I ever tell you that I’ve never met my real dad? Well, I have now. Turns out he’s working at the same college I applied for, I saw him on the day of my entrance exam. A huge technology nerd, it seems. No, I’m not planning to stay in touch with him in my free time – the dude abandoned me and my mother before even legally admitting he’s my father – but… I dunno. It is still kind of interesting to see what kind of person he is.”

“Wow, sounds like you’ve really had a lot going since we last met. But it is good to hear things are starting to work out… and who knows, maybe your father turns out to be a decent guy. Wouldn’t that be great?” Calypso asked.

“I guess…” he shrugged. “But right now I’m more interested in other things.”

“Such as…?” Calypso inquired.

“You really missed me that much that you were even ready to call me Bad Boy Supreme if I showed up again?” Leo teased.

“Oh gods, I was wondering when the jerk would appear again…” Calypso said with partially faked annoyance.

“You still like me, though,” Leo stated.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

A moment of silence.

“Leo Valdez, will you go out with me?” Calypso blurted before she could regret it.

“Yes… I mean… YES?!” He stared at her with wide eyes and she couldn’t help but giggle at his expression.

“Alright, glad to know where we stand.”

Leo was quiet for a while. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you just asked me out…” he looked at the distance with a dreamy expression on his face. “I was hoping but…”

“Well, you don’t have to hope anymore, silly. I really did it.” Calypso smiled at him encouragingly.

“I… I…” Leo was still too flustered to say much else.

“I guess that means ‘I’m looking forward to it’?” Calypso interpreted before glancing at the queue of customers by the counter. “Looks like I should go back to work but I can text you afterwards.”

“Alright…”

The couple exchanged their phone numbers, but before Calypso handed Leo’s phone back, she surprised him once more by giving him a kiss on the cheek. Once she was already long gone, Leo still remained on his seat, his fingers touching the spot where her lips had been.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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New X-Men Xtrospective Part 1: E is For Extinction “They Will Need Us”

I am SO fucking excited for this one. As might not be obvious to ALL of my readers but should be obvious to some, I fucking love the X-Men. They are one of my favorite superhero teams period as are several of their spinoffs such as X-Factor (All versions), New Mutants, and Marauders. I love the wide cast, the hugely vast universe within the already vast and wonderful marvel universe, and the sheer amount of GREAT stories. I own all 11 movies, have several action figures, and two posters from Jonathan Hickman’s current and utterly dynamite run right above me right now as I work, as well as a marvel 80′s themed poster behind me that’s at least half x-men for good reason. I love this gang of mutants and I have not talked about them enough.

I”ve done some X-Men stuff sure: I’ve talked about hickman’s time as head writer of the books a year in earlier this year, I did a few scattered reviews back when I did single issues of comics, and then we get to the one I beefed big time: covering ALL of X-Men evolution. While it’s a noble endeavor I freely admit to overexerting myself: I recapped the episodes way too closely, gave myself no real schedule and did so while I was already covering two shows a week at the time. My point is it was a good idea, but the timing was REALLY fucking bad and if I do it again, I intend to do it right and iwth a proper place in my now properly paced schedule. I also planned to do the movies which, unlike evolution, I have solid plans to do once I clear out some of my projects. Point is I burned bright and then exploded and took a whole projecet with me phoenix style.

I had until this moment yet to do a really big x-men project, something digging into the comics, something that could help fans both of the comics and not get familiar with something really good, and help me dig into both the good and bad of something. I jsut needed the right start.

Then Christmas gave me that spark, that project that gave me the idea for a butload more x-men content on here and was the perfect starting point for some. See my friend Marco lives in Honduras, and so since i couldn’t afford to send him anything for christmas in the mail, as i’m not exactly rich, I instead offered him three reviews of anything.l He still hasn’t taken up two of them, nor one I gave him for graduating college, but the first one was a doozy, something he hadn’t read due to not liking the art, which is fine as I have some art in comics I don’t like everyone has diffrent tastes, at least for the first arc, and something VITALLY important to x-men as a whole and that’s the backbone of hickman’s current run: the first arc of new x-men, e is for extinction. And given New X-Men is one of my faviorite comics of all time I not only lept on it.. but decided fuck it I’m covering the whole thing. So every so often on here from now until I finish, i’m going to be covering Grant Morrisons ground breaking, mind shattering, status quo destroying run on the children of the atom. This.. is going to be fucking awesome. Buckle up.

New X-Men came about in 2001. Stop me if you heard this one: The X-Men, once marvel’s best selling title and one of i’ts most beloved, had been set adrift in a seal of editorial bullshit, bad writing, bad storylines and a stale continuity where not much could change or grow and things always reset to about the same place it was last week. If this sounds familiar it’s because it somehow happened AGAIN thanks to Ike Perlmutter’s bullshit, hence the current hickman run, but we’ll get into all of tha tsome other time. Point is as it was in 2018, so it was in 2001: The x-men were in bad straits and marvel reached out to a host of various creators to swing for the fences and find a new direction, something to bring sales and life back to the book. To my shock they actually took a LOT of diffrent pitches in before Morrisons won and from huge names: Geoff Johns, who had not yet returned to DC never to leave, Alex Ross, Keith Giffen.. all huge creative types. but in the end the best man won.

For those unfamiliar with him, Grant Morrison is a gloriously batshit scotsman with a long, storied and delightfully insane history in comics, mostly at DC before and after this comic. This is for good reason: DC scouted Morrison specifically because of his early work at 2000ad. See at the time Alan Moore had hit it really big with Swamp Thing, taking a d list, so so book and making it into an utter masterpiece and giving it thoroughly interesting mythology. Given it was a blockbuster hit that’s still widely loved and discussed, as it should be today, DC decided to repeat the strategy of asking British indie comics creators to come do the same to another property. This same experiment is why Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman exists, so.. yeah it was actually a great strategy and naturally Grant had their first big hit with Animal Man, a metafictional take on a b-list hero that made him a loveable family man, while also putting him through hell and playing with the medium and dc’s vast history, the last two being Morrison’s trademark from then on out.

They’d next go on to reinvent one of my other faviorite teams: THE DOOM PATROL! The patrol are a bunch of victims of strange accidents who got powers out of them that are basically curses... and Morrison solidified that concept, taking over after a weak run that ironically enough was trying to imitate the x-men’s success at the time. Instead Morrison just went all out with his weird shit for the first time and made them a team of broken but likeable people with weird powers fighting just the weirdest most incomprehensible shit, a run i’ll likely be digging into eventually along with the team as a whole. It’s also, along with Gerard Way’s recent run, the bedroock for the current and utterly masterful doom patrol series I need to catch up on. They also apparently once wrote a satrical comic starring and lik mocking hitler... a fact I somehow JUST learned but naturally doesn’t surprise me at all.

Morrison’s career at dc, after doing some creator owned stuff there when Vertigo opened up, hit it’s peak in the late 90′s as they were given the go ahead to reinvent the Justice League, with the wildly successful and awesome JLA, another book I probably need to take a look at that put the big 7 back into the team. And by now your probably getting the point of me covering his career pattern.. besides giving morrison the praise they deserve, and they’d have some really great runs after this.. and some terrible ones but no one’s perfect. My point is that at this point in their career Morrison’s greatest skill was taking something that had grown stagnant or been forgotten, blowing it up and reworking it into something glorious and new. Taking what worked, scraping away what didn’t and on the whole making something fucking glorious out of it. So here we are. The X-Men needed a new coat of paint and uncle grant had their lcd laced psycadelic paint bucket and brush shaped like a pidgeon at the ready. And for better, way better and admitely sometimes here and there worse,they changed the x-men for good. Some changes were rolled back out of spite, others finally got their chance after said rollback recently, and some were just outright thrown on the grown and smashed with a hammer. But for the most part Grant left a huge impact on the x-men and i’m here to show you why, warts and all. To me my x-men, this is new x-men. Now naturally there’s even more exposition but i’ts more in what COULD’VE been. Originally while Wolverine, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Professor X were all part of the team the other two members of the slim roster for this run, Beast and Emma Frost.. weren’t. Originally Morrison was going to have Colossus and Moira Mactaggert, long time team ally, token human until very recently, and now thanks to hickman one of the most important x characters peirod and long before that a fan favorite of mine, on the team, with Moira taking over for beast.

This.. didn’t pan out since Marvel apparently either didn’t give a shit about their plans or already had things in motion as the climax of the longtime legacy virus storyline killed both off. Colossus until Joss Whedon, bastard he may be, brought him back for his terrific Astonishing X-Men, and Moira SOMEHOW stayed dead until House/Powers of X. See this speaks to one of the big roadblocks morrison faced: Jonathan HIckman currently has absolute power and all his writers working in concert, a new way of doing things comic companies shold honestly copy en masse as it’s really working wonders. Grant.. was just one of many writers and one of three main x books the others being Chris Claremont’s XTREME X-MEN, basically “let the legend do what he wants since he can’t get freedom on the main book” and another writer on uncanny... before eventually chuck austen took over and I will tackle that horrible mess some other time. Point is while Morrison was setting the tone, costume style and making the big waves, they still didn’t have full power and thus had to play nice with eveyrone else. So their next idea was Rogue, making mer more like her x-men evolution version.. except Chris wanted her, so that was out, though being a decent enough guy he willingly gave up Beast since the moira thing meant Morrison needed a science person. As for Colossus replacement, as it turned out a fan had suggested Grant do something with Emma Frost since Gen X was canceled and while Morrison had zero intention for it clearly Emma clicked with hthem and she was soon both a main part of the cast and one of their biggest contributions to X-Men as a whole.

As for what I think of the needed changes.. they ended up being for the best. I do like Moira... but Hank ended up being a much better fit for the team dynamic wise and power set wise, while Emma was the same. While Colossus, Rogue and Moira are all fantastic characters, I think what we ended up with was just a better mix overall. I DO think the team is incredibly white, but that’s a general x-men problem, even with having an assload of diverse and intresting characters, so it’s not entirely his fault. All in all it’s a fantastic roster: four of the x-men’s best, their leader in the field for the first time in forever, and a new and intresting wild card. IT’s a nice ballance of characters and we’ll get more into it as we go. Now all the expositions done, we can finally dive head first into new x-men. I hope you survivie the experince under the cut.

After an utterly gorgeous and striking cover, the one used up top, we get one solid page to introduce us to Morrison’s mission statment, how they feel and how good Frank Quitely’s art looks

I cropped it best i could for tumblr but this one image immidetly says a lot. Our heroes are just.. easily taking down this sentinel, an old model... the same one we’ve seen a dozen times. What were once the grim, possible destroyers of an entire race of beings in days of future past and devistating killing machines in the present.. had become stale easily defeated murder bots There had been noble attempts to really make the sentiinels work again like the horrifying omega sentinels, humans forcibly converted into sleeper agent killing machines, during operation: zero tolerance, but otherwise they were mostly just a prop for the x-men to knock down. And that.. really is morrison’s whole point. Lampshading and mocking the fact the x-men had grown stale, things hadn’t really progressed.. and that it was time to move on. But to Uncle Grant’s credit, they not only uses this as a mission statment but it’s plot relevant: this mission will both be explained soon and explains why Logan and Scott are out and about enough to end up where the plot will soon need them. It also helps, via the sight of the syndey opera house establish something Morrison made a staple of their run: the X-Men going global. While the x-men were never really NOT global post claremont, Morrisons run has them handling rescue missions and what not worldwide far more often than most runs before it sans Claremont, and really made it feel like they weren’t just another super team but a global force of good with a specific goal and mission. More on the global aspect next time, as that’s where it really comes in but I felt it was important to show it was there for minute one.

So yeah before we move onto the first full scene of the run, let’s talk about the costumes.

We’ll talk about Emma’s later since she’s not introduced to the story for a while but yeah. There’s a sharp, obvious and immediate change just in the outfits, which take after the movie’s more military look, having the x-men not only look more like a unit but more like a professional orginization. Someone to come and help when needed. While this would take on more siginifigance in a bit, we’ll get to it, it also fits Morrisions own views that the x-men were less of a traditional superhero team and more something different on the edges that fought things out there, sorta what like he did with doom patrol. And it’s honestly a valid interpretation as the x-men are often seen as outlaws and misfits by society for beingn well.. mutants. Not as trusted as the avengers. So having them adopt this look played into that: Having them look more professional and focused as The X-Men have a less blanket mission statement than the avenger.. but also mildly threatning. Something to alarm the humans. It’s an utterly brilliant look thrown best together by the big yellow x’s, still giving it a nice flash of color to show off and show this is still a comic and this is still damn colorful.. this just isn’t your AVERAGE supherhero comic or the x-men your used to. IT’s a real shame the only fox x-men movie to use it was fucking dark phoenix.. a film where it didn’t even fit as xavier was getting flashier and more reckless so why wouldn’t he have more garish and colorful and more traditional superhero outfits. They did look good in their variants in first class though. Props there. Point is this is a classic, utterly stunning look, and tha’ts coming from someone whose fine with goofy superhero outfits and perpetually bitter hawkeye is almost never allowed to wear his actual comic outift and is instead stuck with shades instead of you know.. a mask. Or anything resembling an actual good looking costume. This though this is how you do a less superheroy costume: practical and realistic, but still cool looking and comic book friendly.

We cut to a mysterious lady, we’ll come to know her as Cassandra Nova and while I know her origin... i’m saving it for later as the comics themselves explain it eventually, and a simpering dolt she brought with her, Donald Trask, a distant relative of the creators of the sentinels who, via holograms she’s showing cro magnons slaughtring the neanderthal. Her point is that Mutants are going to do this and she’s clearly fearmongering him and trying to talk him into genocide: to wipe them out before they wipe out humanity. And it’s here we get one of hte most important plot points of Morrisons run and one of the most intresting: according to cassandra’s research Humanity will be no more in 4 generations. Mutankind is on it’s way to overtaking them at last.. i’ts still a few decades off.. but it’s coming. It’s sometihing that the whole decimation nonsense sadly snuffed.. and John Hickman has thankfully brought back. I’ll get to his run once i’ts complete in a few years, but point is it’s an utterly marvelous plot hook: Humanity, whose already attempted genocide a few times, is now in real danger of what their petty, racist, fearful attacks have been about: being replaced. It’s one of the central themes of the work the other two being “Just what IS mutantkind and what will it be”. WHat are they as a people? We’ll dig into these as we go but the threat of exctincion is the backbone of this arc... and will lead to something truly ghastly.

It’s then we get our title page.. which nothing really to add it just looks really good and helps show off who are cast is and what they can do with striking simple art.

And since we’re already talking the art of the book, let’s take a moment to discuss an intresting detail of this run: despite it’s short length there’s quite a few diffrent artist, who we’ll talk about of course as we get to each one. The most common and notable though is Frank Quitely. Frank Quitely is one of Morrison’s closest and best creative partners, having a unique, squishy art style.. i.e. the one my friend didn’t like which is why i’m covering this. And while I like the art style quite a bit, I do get why it’s not everyone’s cup of tea: His art is squashed, weird, and admitely some faces can be good god no incaranate. But it’s also why I like it: his characters feel unique, each body and figure feels like it was custom made and thus feels.. real. Like this is a person before you. And given comics can often surrender to having everybody look the damn same, this is nice. His faces may sometimes look similar but his bodies are where the action is. But while having a realistic feel his work also has a weird alien quality that perfectly fits Morrison, and thus his run on x-men. I will say while I love All-Star Superman, his art fits less there in the more hopeful silver agey story, so he’s not an artist for EVERY STORY OF EVERY TYPE.. but when it comes to sci fi weridness, he fits it like a glove so i’ts unsuprising he and morrison are practicaley soul mates, nor that his art sets the tone perfectly for the run: this is something new, diffrent and strange.. and what says x-men at it’s best more than that?

So after our opening titles we cut to the mansion where Hank is showing off his latest and greatest invention: Cerebra. Cerbebra is a massively upgraded version of Cerebro, aka Professor Xavier’s iconic helmet that allows him to track mutants to help them out.. and covertly backup their conconousness for his long game plan, but shhhh, don’t tell anyone yet that’s not going to be retconned in for a few decades. Though i’m damn certain if Morrison has heard about the current era of x-men and how it both builds on what he built, shatters the status quo and is incredibly weird, he’d be damn proud. As for how it’s diffrent Cerebra not only has a large dome around it but said dome allows the machine to amply Charles powers to a global reach. He can now see mutants all over the world anywhere in the world, something I didn’t realize wasn’t ALWAYS a thing because it seems so simple. It’s also likely to bring it more in line with the movies. And while marvel has done TERRIBLE with bringing things in from the movies or in line with them in recent years, i.e. making star lord more like his movie self while forgetting that’s how he already used to be in canon before later writers thankfully did hte better step of merging the two, Hawkeye’s outfit, Cap’s outfit or Nick Fury Jr. But for every mistep there’s also been tons of times it’s worked out really well such as here, as well as bringing hulk into the avengers for the first time since the founding, making tony stark more like the mcu version and less like a nightmarish self righetous dicktator who rightfully gets beat up and called out a lot, making Scott Lang prominent since he became prominent in the MCU, Wakanda being a major force in the marvel universe as it always should have been and various titles that have popped up to tie into movies, often bringing back a team or property that hadn’t had a book in some time like Ant-Man, Black Panther, and Shang Chi just to name a few. It’s not always hawkeye looking all jeremy renner is what i’m saying.. though thankfully comics clint isn’t that uninteresting. Hopefully the series will change that.

So yeah along with a bigger shinier cerebro we’re also introduced to a big change in Hank whose taken on his lion form rather than his classic gorilla with a weird haircut or his return to that except bald. Here he’s more like aslan in a human body and I.. love it. It looks great, helps sell hanks delima of being brilliant while looking like a beast and makes sense: he kickstarted what was likely his own secondary evolution by drinking the potion that made him bestial, so it only makes sense his body wouldn’t be all that stable even if it took years to change again. And even that makes sense as hank was breifly turned back to his original hairless ape mutation during x-factor, easily one of the books.. worse decisions honestly and one that louise simonson thankfully later undid. That probably bought him some time hence why it’s only mutating further now. It also adds an intresting wrinkle which the run will explore further: how far does this go? Will he regress? and how much hank will be left? And how will society treat his new form?

For now he’s actually extatic. While he’s going through hormonal changes, and giving out some excellent banter with Jean

Which also includes one of the greatest lines in comic book history, one that’s been in my head for decades and made me absolutely love henry mccoy.

He’s just great is what i’m saying. As you can tell it’s stuff like this why i’m glad Moira fell through. While I love her.. Morrison’s hank is just a delight and one really questionable subplot aside, we’ll get to that, he’s one of the highlights of this run with an intresting internal struggle, and great chemistry with EVERYONE. And that is the main reason i’m glad Moira fell through as his history with everyone but Emma, who he still has a great raport with, means each interaction has weight. He’s close friends with both scott and jean and thus serves as their needed confidant, while still being able to buddy and banter iwth good old weapon x, and speak with his mentor charles as an equal. While I love moira... Beast just fits into the cast too perfectly and I 100% suspect Morrison was only using her because, while she’s awesome, Claremont wanted her and thus gladly snapped her up when he no longer had a science person. I’ll get into his Jean soon enough but she’s likewise fantastic and easily my faviorite version of the character.. not that until very recently there was much honest competition.

So Cerebra fires up showing a massive cloud of mutants, showing just how much of a huge spike theirs been with Xavier wondering what it all means.. and Hank seeing a weird flare on the mointor for just a second with his special eyes. But since Xavier isn’t stupid and isn’t the kind of idiot who just dismisses it as a fulke, and since Scott and Logan are in the field, he decides to confrence call them in to see if they can go take a look.

And naturally we get to see what their up to and get context for what the hell happened in the first page. Our heroes were on a rescue mission to save Ugly John, tha’ts what people called him, a three faced mutant who ends up passing out as they head out of the atmosphere for a second. Wolverine is regenerating and smoking out of his neck becaue he could still smoke back then before marvel decided “he’s setting a bad example”.. in a comic meant for teens and adults.

I mean I get it on some level as the x-men cartoon was a huge thing in the 90′s and Ben Grimm is basically a giant children’s toy with the mind of a surly 40 year old jewish man from yancy street, but stilll it’s just.. why. I may not like smoking but it’s not like it was SPIDER-MAN saying

It’s a grown man.. whose not a sterling roll model and who Claremont went out of his way to have Logan point out his healing factor means it really dosen’t hurt him in the long run and when Kitty, an actual teenager, tried one of his cigars she choked. I know it’s a weird thing to get hung up on but while i’m all for keeping kids from smoking, this was a really clumsy way to try and hehlp that that made no sense and will never make any sense.

One tangent later we find out that Cassandra was showing Trask a simulation on a flight to, unsuprisingly, south america, to a sentinel blacksite. Between covertly funding civil wars as they do, the US Goverment naturally founded an experimental sentinal project, and a second master mold during the production of the first line... when larry trask asks where it could possibly be well...

Subtly was not the trasks strong point.. or common sense... or.. not realizing their creations would dominate humanity too or not dying.

Anyways we then cut back to the x-men, as their having a psychic zoom meeting with Charlie giving one of his patnted big speeches.. and like a lot of this comic it’s too damn good not to use

The reason I couldn’t should be obvious: This one speech sums up the x-men, why their great and why their necessary in a nutshell: in a world full of prejucided morons.. there’s plenty of scared kids who NEED the x-men to protect and guide them, and with a surge in the mutant population, their needed now more than ever. We also get a good explanation in universe for the uniform change: Charles had them in the superhero outfits hoping humanity would accept them if they were packaged as something they know. Since that clearly hasn’t worked he’s trying new ways to reach out and thus going with a diffrent more rescue team approach to the uniforms. He assigns Wolvie and Cyke to go check out the flair as you’d expect and the meetings over. On the blackbird we get our first hint at a subplot as Logan noticed Cyclops couldn’t wait to get out of there, and is being a tad distant to his wife. He actually has reasons for being kind of cold for once instead of just bad writing as he just came back from being possed by apocalypse. Yeah that happened. So the experience has rattled our boy some what. More on that as we go. But Jean ducks the subject with hank but does breach the fact that Charles has been going kind of crazy with the spending, new uniforms and ambition lately. Hank explains it perfectly: After all the death, suffering and misery the x-men have endured lately, the aforementioned deaths I talked about that took Colossus and Moira off the roster, have lionzed Charles to make sure it was all worth something and look towards the future.

But enough hope time for horror as Cassandra makes her first direct move, trying to take over Charles brain , make his body her own and use cerebra to kill lots and lots of mutants. We then get one of the best moments of Morrisons run with Charles response to a horrifying monster trying to take his brain

While it is shocking to find out Charles has a gun..it’s a grim but kind of understandable precaution. The guy once got fully taken over by a brood, assembling the New Mutants in part because the brood wanted to create more of i’ts kind with more super powers. You’d be paranoid too if some of your beloved students were brought together partly due to your good intentions and partly because a space monster wanted to make more space montsters out of helpless teens, and even horribly gaslighted one of them. We’ll get to that some day. Point is Charles brain is one of the greatest weapons on earth and if the wrong person got a hold of it, it’d be the end of said earth. Thankfully Charles does not need plan gun, as Jean yanks Cerebra off him but the sheer HATE Charles felt from Cassandra, the sheer power has rattled him.. and also told him she’s in Ecuador and his X-Men need to be warned NOW. It’s a great way to set up just HOW powerful Cassandra is. Speaking of which as our first issue of the arc ends, we find out two things: Cass faked being int he government but really just used dead soldiers as prop.. and just what kind of sentinels are out there.. wild sentinels. Easily my faviorite variant of the old killing machines and one that’s barely used despite being really damn awesome. Their adaptive killing machines, designed to mutated just like their pray and take tech from around them, as a result they look like a jumble of guns and parts.. but not only does it give them a unique, cool look.. but it makes them ten times deadlier as instead of being big bricks of robots that while intimidating, the x-men know how to kill... their unpredictable variable killing machines. You can figure out how to kill one sure.. btu the next might be entirely diffrent. They are one of morrisons best creations and I hope someone uses the idea again.. aka hickman. Please use it jonathan I know your focused on nimrod but come on.

And we end on one of the best lines of the entiire run as we close out the issue

Yeah it goes without saying but i’ll say it anyway; Morrison is really damn good with dialouge and being damn quotable.

So we open with another great quote “When I got up today I didn’t expect to kill 20 million people”... and Cassandra being aware Wolverine and Cyclops are on their way and sending the Wild Sentinels to dispatch them. Also our heroes brought Ugly John along while while a dumb move, Wolvie does point out how dumb it was to divert to Ecuador with a civlian in tow.. after the plane crash of course. As for “wait what plane crash’, the sentinels attack and start picking it apart... and since letting them have such good tech is a terrible idea, Scotty blows up the damn plane. So to recap our heroes are stuck in ecuador, surrounded by murder machines, and oh look their there and knock off cyclops viser. Fantastic. So yeah our heroes are fucked. And naturally captured by the enemy.

The rest of the x-men are doing SLIGHTLY better. While beast makes a note for his girlfriend, more on that later on, Charles is in bed, half alive, explaning the rationale I gave for why he has the gun with Jean refusing to let him get back out of bed and you know.. put on the device that just nearly killed him. But when beast announces they lost contact with our boys.. yeah that ceased being an option.

Back in the Ecuadorian Genocide Factory, Cassandra does the obvious and kills donald trask as his real purpose..was to stick around and be stupid for a bit while she copied his dna so she could have full control of her new murder toys.She soon uses them, having a horrifying death chamber slaughter john.. or at least flash fry him. Wolverine takes it how you’d expect and since the sentinels need to “perserve trask dna”.. they can’t fire on him without killing her. Scott escapes.. and in a heart wrenching scene mercy kills john.. before getting badass.

To anyone who says Scott Summers is boring, unintersting, or a stupid asshole idiot head I present exhbit shut the fuck up. Morrison gets scott just right, deconstructing his emotional suppression, while showing him off as a dedicated, companionate man who gets the job done and who seconds after tearfully having to mercy kill an innocent mutant whose death was partially his fault, wastes no time making it painfully clear to the person responsible she WILL die if she tries that again. Logan however realizes she’s already won in some fashion as she’s grinning.. and yeah never a good sign when a genocidal madwoman is grinning like a loon.. and when we find out why.. it’s even less good> We cut to Genosha. A lot of you probably know what happned to Genosha but in case you don’t know what it is it was once a horribly racist country that genetically enslaved mutants and used them for slave labor. It was freed, but still struggled to truly move on.. till Magneto showed up, took the country for himself and made it a home for all mutants. When we last saw him he once again tried to take over the world leading to Logan seemingly killing him. Right now though Emma Frost finally enters the scene teaching some mutants.. when a young one named Negasonic Teenage Warhead.. yes that one and yes she was entirely chosen for deadpool for her name, reveals, via precognition, that their all going to die.. right as the sentinels attack.

Genosha.. is gone. In an eyeblink 16 million mutants are dead, a possible future gone, and one of their greatest leaders is no more. Yeah Magneto WAS alive.. but paralyzed so he could do nothing when his island was utterly slaughtered. Only a handful of mutants will be revealed to survive. Humanity had done a lot to mutants before .. but for once.. they’d succeeded in wiping a massive chunk out. What was an x-men location for DECADES at this point.. was now a smoldering crater. A what could of been that would hant the x-men ever after, even now into utopia it remains the darkest day in mutant history outside of hte decimation. It is a truly horrific moment.. and if the changes already hadn’t made it clear this is morrison saying “NO character is safe, nothing is safe, and nothing will be the same and I damn well mean that”. In one act of hate the world has changed. And it hasn’t finished changing yet.

Issue Three opens hammering in things, as Jean and Beast are in the ruins of genosha, with Xavier having found ONE surivor among the rubble, and our heroes sturggling to find even them, though Jean eventually picks them up and uses her TK to sift through the rubble.

They find Emma who emerges from a bunker in shock, clutching NTW... and not realizing she’s dead until later and revealing she now has diamond skin, her own secondary mutation. Secondary Mutation was a birlliant idea, new powers sprouting up within established mutants.. it’s just morrison barely used this great idea as did hardly anyone else. Only X-Men Blue ever really dug into it and those were artifical at that. IT’s a great idea..it’s just barely used and at most heavily implied to explain changes in powers like Jamie Madrox Multiple Personalities later on or Doug Ramsey’s vast increase in power. Disapointing.

While Charles takes in the tragedy and the fact his old frienmie is dead, the x-men wonder what the fuck Cassandra is and what to do with her.. why did she kill 16 million people, and what the fuck is she. I mean I know, but as I said i’ll explain that when the story does. IN the other room Beast tends to Emma who wants none of not fucking killing Cassandra.. and is utterly right. Bitchy, because i’ts Emma, but right: she killed 16 million people. Say what you want but while it may not be up to the x-men to kill her.. she shoudln’t be living much longer. She commited genocide. Emma decides fuck that and prepares to leave summoning a cab and making peace with being a glorious living fabrige egg. Emma did apparelty change in generation x.. but Morrison is responsible for returning her not only to being a bitch, but a gloriously delightful one And really I don’t think they reset her character entirely: she’s not the heartless monster she started out as: she has empathy, grace, and caring.. she just buries it under a lair of absolute bitch and after you know, surviving a fucking genocide who can blame her? And honestly.. I love their verison of her. She provides a nice contrast to the more idealistic, even logan, x-men and a nice contrarian voice in the room without being obnoxious and her style and sacrastic swagger makes her endlessly entertaning. Thanks to morrison she’s stuck around to this day and went from a pretty good character.. to a great one. And what makes her this way, or as jean puts it “such a bitch?”

With that settled, Hank explains what Cassandra is: a competing species. As he puts it sometimes evolution takes a quantum leap forward.. and Cassandra is the result. Thus she wants to wipe out the compettition and is so far above humanity, she dosen’t need them... especially since she knows what Hank now knows: humanity is at an end. As hank puts it we have an E Gene, one that basically shuts off a race.. and thus the x-men now know what we learned earlier and that cassandra wasn’t lying: in 4 generations there are no more humans and something has to repalce htem. And Cassandra wants it to be her.

Before Logan can do what he does best, and asks why she looks like charles, Cassandra escapes, and Scott briliantly urges them to fight only on instict as she’s a telepath. A damn awesome fight insues including Cassandra donning Charles Psoonic battle armor, Scott being put in his black bug room and the general good looking chaos you’d expect from a superhero fight. While this goes on Emma has an ephinany and realizes she likes to teach, the x-men have a school.. and she shoudln’t give up on helping kids just because of what happened and turns around.

Cassandra is near victory, slipping her way to Cerebra.. and planning to kill only one mind before getting to the millions she wnats, a horrifying slug manifesting around her.. only...

So the x-men accept this and cassandra rises.. seemingly saying “I am charles” Huh... and then charles uncaracteristiacally shoots her saying things must change

We’ll get to what all of that means next time as we close on Jean and Scott in bed. Scott explains why he’s been so distant as what I said earlier: fighting off apocalypse stripped away a lot of illusions about himself and he’s having a hard time walking back from that but Jean is willing to help.. but before they can resolve their issues.. charles has an annoucnment to make and grant has one last whopper of a suprise to end his opening arc on, and just like genosha...it’s a game changer of titanic proportions

No longer is Xavier’s School hidden. Their walking into the light now and so is charles. Hope they surivive the experince. Obviously this move is brilliant: while it removes the veil of saftey the x-men had it also brings on tons of new possiblities and unlike secondary mutation, this one not only stuck but would impact the x-men for good: no longer would they hide and cower.. their mutant and proud.. and their here to stay. E For Extinction is one of the best x-men stories period. Blisteringly paced, full of great character, great concepts and utterly terrifying and terrific moments that would impact the x-men all the way to present day. It’s beautifully drawn, well paced, and a masterwork. I highly recommend it and it’s a great kickoff to a great run. Shame the run couldn’t of ended on this kind of high but.. we’ll get to that. For now this is a masterclass in how to start a run and if you haven’t read it do so NEXT TIME ON NEW X-MEN: A bunch of weirdos try to harvest mutant organs, the x-men get a brain in a jar and a new teamate, and Scott maybe cheats on his wife. Until then, goodbye goodbye goodbye.

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merigreenleaf · 4 years ago

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Unexpected Inspiration Series: Concordia’s Art Magic

Blythe could only assume that if Adair was holding a paintbrush, the jar in his other hand must contain paint or ink. Then again, it was Adair. It could just as likely be grape jam. And to think, she'd finally got herself unsticky from Sol's glue fiasco this morning. With some trepidation, she held out her hand. Adair dipped the tip of his brush into the jar, then drew a quick blue swirl on her palm. At least that solved the mystery. It was, in fact, paint. "I wouldn't call a paint smudge much of a glow." "Give me a minute." This time Adair didn't return the brush to the jar and instead held the tip of the bristles just far enough away that they tickled Blythe's skin. She fought back the reflex to close her hand so she wouldn't disturb whatever it was he was trying. When nothing happened for a long while besides Adair gazing intently at her hand, Blythe mouthed to Etri, "What's he doing?" Etri tapped his finger against her wrist, calling her attention back down. She had expected nothing to change and hissed a sharp intake of breath when it had. The swirl was still there, but now there was an aura of purple about an inch away from her skin. When she moved her hand, the strange glow stayed with it. Etri leaned closer for a better look. She pried her eyes away in time to catch Adair looking pleased with himself in an embarrassed sort of way. "So all Weavers' hands look like this?" "Yeah, but not just our hands. Picture that covering your entire body and you get a better idea of how we glow." Blythe made a face and wiped her hand clean on the paint-stained cloth he handed her. "Blech. I'll pass." -Excerpt from an early draft of Colorweaver (Book 1)

Concordia as a whole is filled with artists, craftspeople, inventors, and creative hobbyists. The culture has art at its center and almost everyone joins in, even if it's just a way to pass the time rather than as a vocation. It's a drive passed down from generation to generation and the reason for this is that art magic runs deep in the blood of Concordians. History and myth have blended together into stories telling of how the first Concordians-- several struggling, displaced groups of people who joined together to survive-- asked for help in driving away a threat and to help keep their small population safe. Legends say that the constellations came down from the sky to teach magic to the people. Centuries later, these magics have become the nine types of art magic in Concordia.

(Info about the art magic below!)

Here are the types of magic. These are represented in the moodboard from left to right, top to bottom.

Wordweaving (Glow color: red) These Weavers work their magic into words, both spoken and written. These are the poets, the storytellers, the actors, the writers. They're the ones who can affect emotion or, in the case of my morally ambiguous main character, influence someone's thoughts for a short time. This is probably the most dangerous or easily corrupted of magics, but considering the tests that go into becoming a master artist and the checks in place after someone does, this hasn't been a huge problem. (Dray has just made it a problem by avoiding any real training, which is also not a usual thing-- nothing Dray has done with their magic is correct, if you get down to it, and it means that they are going to have Consequences sooner than later. But I digress.) Another example of how this magic can be used is in the scrolling marquee in front of the theater the characters visit in book 1.

Colorweaving (Color: purple) These are the artists whose tools are ink, paint, pencil, charcoal, etc. They're essentially illusionists with the ability to make what they draw/paint move around on whatever they're using as a canvas. Adair has this magic and while he'll sometimes use this to make animated paintings, his career as a cartographer has him creating interactive maps. As the series progresses, he figures out that if he paints on himself or someone else, he can change their appearance. He may even work out something that Colorweavers have forgotten they once knew how to do: by drawing on the air, it's possible to create a believable 3D illusion.

Timberweaving (Color: dark green) Woodworkers and carpenters, obviously, but their magic does more than just allow them to make sturdy creations from wood. Not that this is anything to scoff at-- this is why the oldest Artisans' houses haven't fallen over despite being built on stilts and almost every generation adding a new room or even a new floor. This magic can also make wood as buoyant on air as it would be on water and is a frequent way transportation is built. Not all vehicles hover a few inches off the ground, but this does include the "float-wagons" my main characters call home. Those are something of a cross between a motorhome and a house and can be driven (albeit slowly) around.

Terraweaving (Color: orange) These are the Weavers who work with stone and clay, sculpture and pottery. Way back in Concordia's history there was a Terraweaver who used to sculpt trainable dog-sized animals to give companionship and help to those who needed it. Not just by way of a service dog-- one of the things she made for a gardener friend was a pet that doubled as a planter. The more traditional ways of working this magic are the ability to work stone as though it were soft clay and putting their magic into buildings to make them more steady and solid, much like the Timberweavers, or to make them resist fires.

Oreweaving (Color: red-violet) These Weavers frequently have chemical or heat magic and often use this to etch, shape, and manipulate metals. They're the jewelers, the smiths, and are probably the most "inventor" group of the bunch. Sol tends to use his light/heat magic in a similar way to how the arcane metalworkers would (softening and shaping metal in his hands), so there's some overlap here in terms of heat with the glassworkers. The reason for this is Oreweaving was originally a kind of lightning magic. You'll still find it used as a kind of "battery" when an Oreweaver works with a different type of Weaver on a project. This could be to extend the life of the magic in something else, because eventually all magic inside a creation will run out and need to be recharged, or it'll be a backup battery. Concordia relies on wind, water, and solar power, so magic is only ever a backup or a way to store power they already have.

Savorweaving (Color: pale green) The Weavers who work with food and drink. What they cook doesn't burn, produce stays fresh longer, herbs don't lose potency or flavor after they're dried, food keeps longer or can be made to be more filling. They're the reason Concordia has the equivalent of refrigerators. These artists can also influence the taste and strength of flavor, and I bet they can look at a person and guess what their favorite foods might be.

Glassweaving (Color: gold) This magic involves heat and/or light. These artists are the reason why Silveridge has so much stained glass! As well as using this to make super-strong glass, some Glassweavers use this magic directly by putting it inside glass globes to be used as lamps. Portable heating, like something to keep in your pockets to keep your hands warm? Probably also had a Glassweaver involved. Concordia's mail system is via pneumatic tubes that run about twelve feet off the ground, and while a few different kinds of art go into creating these, the tubes themselves are made of magically-influenced glass.

Songweaving (Color: blue) This magic involves sound and voice, although in terms of pitch and changing how you sound, not the verbal influence of the Wordweavers. I have a character in later books with this magic who can make her voice sound like anything, as well as throwing it so that the sound appears to be coming from somewhere else. This is also the reason that Concordians are able to record sound and music, as well as amplify it or play it at another location simultaneously.

Threadweaving (Color: blue-green) These are the fiber artists, the spinners, weavers (small "w"), knitters, tailors, etc. They can put their magic into clothing and fabric to make it warmer or cooler than it would otherwise be. (This suits Concordians well because current fashion calls for lots of layers of embroidered fabrics and they live in a warm climate.) This can also make clothing protective, usually against things like weather, but it is also how the Protectorates are able to stay safe without needing to wear something heavy that would look like protective gear. Remember the floating homes I mentioned earlier? Some of these are propelled via large fans, sort of like a hovercraft, but some are made with sails on the roofs. Whether it's land or sea, these sails can propel the vehicle forward even if there isn't much wind and can quite likely store some of the wind for later, should it be a still day.

Not everyone in Concordia has magic particularly strongly: some are only good at never burning what they cook, some have simply a pleasant singing voice, some are above average at writing poetry. Sometimes these people will make this part of their careers, sometimes it'll only remain a hobby they enjoy. If the magic is particularly strong, though, it requires additional training and those people are considered Artisans. There isn't a lot of difference between an Artisan and a craftsperson when it comes down to what they create; the only real difference is that an Artisan has magic as an extra tool, so their end results are different. Considering no two artists ever create exactly the same thing anyway, this means that there has never been more importance placed on the Artisans versus craftspeople. Each person will only ever have one type of art magic; even if they carry several types in their bloodline, one will be dominant and only this one will be usable. Each of the nine types of art magic has its own color that glows in both the artist and the creations they make. Only those with decently strong magic can see this, but it does mean that a lot of people, clothing, objects, and locations in Concordia have almost a stained glass look to them if it's something you can see. Part of the reason buildings in Silveridge are made with white stone is because of these glows. Silveridge is where a large percentage of the Artisans live, so it became a tradition to build and paint in white, then add colorful embellishments. Otherwise think about how badly paint colors might clash with the glows used to create the things in the city! Even if most people aren't really aware of how magic glows, they've embraced this aesthetic. Concordia, and Silveridge in particular, is all about aesthetics.

These are just some examples of what each kind of magic can do. Concordians are always coming up with new ideas-- sometimes those ideas work great, sometimes they fail spectacularly. Either way, the artists and craftspeople are constantly creating. Their art magic allows for greater technology than their world might have had without it. Concordia freely trades their creations, so most of their world has access, as well. At some point I'll talk more about Galanvoth, the country that considers itself Concordia's competition.

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This moodboard is for @homesteadchronicles theme of “craftsmanship” because how could I not talk about Concordia and their art magic when most of my series involves this. :D In the future, I'd love to talk more about the Artisans, the history of Concordia’s magic, and just more world building stuff in general.

Tagging my series list! Let me know if you want on or off the list, it’s all good. And as always, please add me to any writing tag lists you have, whether you’re on my list or not. I love reading about writeblr projects. :)

@homesteadchronicles @ageekyreader @lynnafred @the-gay-hufflepuff @oceanwriter @desperatlytryingtowriteabook @muffindragon227 @theguildedtypewriter @toboldlywrite @wchwriter @dreameronthewind @shadow-maker @pen-for-sword @loopyhoopywrites @emptymanuscript @madmoonink @perringwrites @megan-cutler @elliot-orion @thatwriternamedvolk @indecentpause @writer-on-time @ravenpuffwriter @siarven @musicismymoirail @lady-redshield-writes @bluemartlet @reeseweston @worldbuildingwren @hiddswritingrefs @cay--scribbles @focusdumbass @enasroterfaden @missrobinswritings @joshuaorrizonte @zofiehelen @kainablue @kalis-scribbles @inspirited-goddess

#writing #writeblr #moodboard monday #moodboard #world building #about my world #fantasy series #art aesthetic #worldbuilding #magic #unexpected inspiration series #unexpected inspiration aesthetic

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shade-romeo · 4 years ago

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Part 2/2! I'm feeling very motivated and I wanna write this before that goes away.

@potereregina part 2! :D!!

The sun was almost set as the three arrived at the clearing. Roman had dressed up a bit, having put on a button up shirt paired with some nice pants. He had complained about not having anything nicer, but that was short lived once they got going.

Logan had also put on something nice, though it was more casual then normal. He had put on a long sleeved shirt, paired with a thin jacket, and jeans.

Despite the two of them having two vastly different outfits, Virgil thought they both looked wonderful. And they had both assured him, more than once, that his black sweatshirt and ripped jeans looked great. He didn't exactly believe them, but he didn't really have anything else to wear.

But yes.. It was true, that Virgil had grown.. attached to his roommates as of late, but there was no way he would ever say so. They were already dating! Telling someone who's already in a relationship that you like them is basically asking for rejection.

Anyway, yeah. That was his situation, and he was fine with pining for the rest of his existence. He was fine.

Once they stepped through the thick tree branch archway, Virgil gasped. "Oh my god.."

The clearing was huge, half of it being taken up by a lake, though there was still definitely enough room on land for a huge amount of people. And the whole thing was lit up by a ton of fairies, all flying around and chattering in their little bell-like voices. And there were so many creatures! Werewolves and Vampires hanging out and chatting, Mermaids swimming in the lake with Sirens, Nagas and Avians walking around with a smile. It was..

"Awesome.." Virgil spoke breathlessly.

Roman snickered, "Now, now, don't go all starstruck on us cryptid hunter." He teased with a nudge.

Virgil shook himself out of his amazement and looked over at Roman, "Sorry, I just.. I've never seen this many creatures all at once before, or.. at all.."

Logan smiled, "Well, we should bring you here more often then. The clearing is almost always this bustling, especially at night though."

Roman nodded, "Mhm! Except on the full moon or things like that, this place is pretty sacred so, in the werewolves case at least, they stay away when the full moon comes near."

Virgil rose an eyebrow, "How do you know that?"

Roman was about to answer, when a really tall werewolf bounded over with a huge smile.

"Logan! Roman! Human I don't know! Hi! It's awesome to see you!!" They picked Roman up easily, squeezing him tight enough for him to groan.

"Pat.. I need to breathe." He mumbled.

"Right! Sorry!" Pat (?) quickly sat Roman back down, and went over to Logan, picking him up off the ground as well, though not as high as Roman, considering Logan was much taller than the familiar.

Once they were done hugging Logan they ran towards Virgil, who panicked and put out his arms, "No! Uh- sorry- just.. could I get your name first..?"

Pat blinked, "Oh! I'm sorry! My name is Patton, He/Him Pronouns. I'm a werewolf, obviously. What's your name?"

"Virgil, he/him too. Uh.. I'm human, though you noticed that earlier.. nice to meet you." He held out a hand, silently saying 'Look, you seem nice but please don't hug me..'

Patton seemed to understand, as he grabbed Virgil's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "It's nice to meet you too! Oh! Roman, Remus is over by the lake, he said to send you over if I saw you come in."

Roman nodded and bid his goodbyes to Logan and Virgil, Patton doing the same before they were heading over to the lake.

Virgil turned to Logan to find him smiling at him, and maybe that made him flush a bit.

"So, I'll show you around, and introduce you to some people." Logan smiled, holding out his hand.

Virgil flushed even worse and nodded with a nervous smile, taking his hand and letting him lead him further into the clearing.

The rest of the night went amazingly. Logan did indead show him around the entire clearing, and introduced him to a few creatures he was close with. A vampire named Remy, an avian named Emile, a merman named Thomas, and a siren called Nico. They also passed Roman and Remus, who were hanging out with a shape-shifter named Janus. And Logan did indeed clarify that Janus was the one who helped with his potion.

They were all incredibly nice, aside from Remy, but Logan informed him that was just the way they were.

Virgil sat on the ground next to the lake, Emile sitting next to him as Thomas waded in the water, the three of them having a pleasant conversation with Logan standing behind Virgil, watching fondly. Then suddenly, a witch was calling out to everyone from the edge of the clearing.

"Okay everyone! It's officially midnight! You all know what that means!" Virgil couldn't help but feel a pang of fear, despite himself, "Dancing time!!" Virgil immediately felt a bit silly for being frightened, especially as many of the creatures rushed to the "dance floor" as a large group of fairies flew over said dance floor, and started playing music. Pop music actually. How they did that Virgil had no idea, but he didn't really care much either.

Logan sighed with a smile, and held up three fingers, Emile snickered as Thomas shook his head with a smile.

Virgil rose an eyebrow at them as Logan counted down silently. Once he got to one, Roman was right at Logan's side, grabbing his arm and shaking him, practically begging him to come dance with him.

Oh.. wow they know each other really well.. his heart hurt a bit at that realization, but he ignored it as Logan turned to him once again.

"Will you be okay here by yourself?" He asked.

"He won't be by himself!" Thomas interjected, "Emile and I are right here."

"I appreciate your correct grammar Thomas." Logan smiled.

Roman groaned, pulling on Logan. "Come ooooon!! Virgil's fine with Emile and Thomas! Right?"

Virgil nodded.

"Yeah! So come on!! Just one dance pleeeeeaaaaaassssseeee!!" And then Roman was using his pleading eyes, and even though they were directed at Logan, Virgil couldn't help the way his heart melted.

Logan finally gave in, going over to the dance floor with Roman after a quick goodbye.

Emile and Thomas continued talking, but Virgil didn't, he was preoccupied with something else.

He stared intently as Logan and Roman made it to the dance floor, immediately latching onto each other and dancing to the beat, never separating for very long. It was.. mesmerizing, to say the least. He didn't look away, he couldn't, they were.. they were too stunning to not look at. And then he suddenly realized just how much he cared for both of them, no.. he realized just how much he loved them. Oh god.. he's in love with two people who are already in a relationship.. he's so fucked.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts, that he didn't realize Thomas was trying to get his attention, at least not until there was water being flicked into his face.

He flinched and turned to the other two, seeing them both with sympathetic faces.

"So.. you've got it bad then?" Emile asked, and Virgil hesitated, glancing back over to the couple before looking down, nodding solemnly.

"I get that. Not to the extent you're feeling right now, but I get the pining." Thomas offered, "I'm in pretty deep for someone in particular as well."

Virgil nodded, "It sucks.. especially when you know you can't have them.." he wasn't sure why he was opening up like this, maybe it was because of how open these two seemed? How sympathetic they were? He doesn't know.. but it doesn't matter much anyway.

Thomas nodded, sighing a bit. "Yeah.." he glanced over to the other side of the lake, directly at Nico, Virgil noted, before back to Virgil and Emile.

Emile hummed, "You should tell them. You too Thomas, but we'll talk about that in a minute."

Virgil blinked, "Are you serious? I can't tell them! They're dating! They'd hate me!"

"They won't hate you. They care for you a lot, I can tell. If anything they're going to let you down gently." Emile spoke softly, placing a hand on Virgil's knee. "Don't you want to get it off your chest, put it out in the open and.. take a chance?"

Virgil was silent for a while, contemplating Emile's words. Apparently he took too long, because before he could respond he was being tugged at by an excited Roman, and he realized the song was now over.

"Hi. Come on Vi! Your turn!" He grinned, as Logan sat down on the grass next to Emile.

Virgil flushed and sputtered for a moment as he stood up, stumbling a bit as Roman continued to pull.

"Wh.. Me?!"

"Yes!! You!! Now come oooonnn!!" He whined and pulled.

But.. but Logan and Roman had been dancing so intimately during the last song! W..would Roman want to dance with him the same way?! No, no way, he probably just didn't wanna be alone up there.. yeah..

And after convincing himself of that, he agreed, letting Roman drag him off.

They made it to the dance floor, which wasn't actually as crowded as it looked. But before he could take in his surroundings, Roman was grabbing both his hands and putting them on his waist, wrapping his own around Virgil's shoulders.

Virgil was surely bright red, and if his eyesight was to be believed, so was Roman. The familiar grinned and started leading the dance, Virgil following along like a lost and incredibly flustered puppy. Though eventually, he got into the flow of things, moving in sync with Roman, comepletely engulfed in the song and dance, so muxh so that he didn't bat an eye when Roman seemed to push himself closer.

Once the song was over though, he realized that was.. really fucking intimate, and Oh God. Roman though, was giggling and bouncing in place, gushing about how much fun that was and how good of a dancet Virgil was. And wow he's so far gone for this cutie.

A few minutes later, Logan finds them, a soft smile on his face.

"You two had fun?"

Roman grinned, "Of course! That was great!"

Virgil couldn't help but smile giddily as well, "I.. yeah. That was.. great."

Logan nodded, "Good to hear, we should probably head home now though."

Roman pouted but nodded, taking Logan's hand, and squeezing Virgil's, before walking with Logan out of the clearing.

As they walked through the forest, Virgil spoke up, shaky and vulnerable.

"What.. was that? I mean, why did you dance with me like that? I mean.. I.. I liked it, it was uhm.. fun, but.. I just.. uh.."

Roman pursed his lips, "Well.. okay. I know we had a rocky start." Understatement of the century, "But.. I've grown to like you. A lot."

..wait.

"As have I. Even while our relationship wasn't strained before, I have taken a certain.. liking to you." Logan spoke, as Virgil noticed both of their faces flushing under the moonlight.

..what.

The two of them shared a look, before Logan nodded and Roman turned back to Virgil. "So, we've been talking.. and.. we wanted to ask you to join our relationship? Like, a polyamorous relationship, where all three of us are dating each other."

..oh my god.

Logan nodded, "Yes, we didn't know the right time to ask you, so we.. haven't, and Roman suggested that he could dance with you tonight and explain while you were on the dance floor."

..no fucking way.

"I chickened out though.. so I'm glad you asked about it." Roman smiled sheepishly, before taking in Virgil's blank expression.

"..Virgil? Are you okay?"

Virgil seemed to let out a large breath, a small smile forming on his face. "You couldn't have picked a better night to ask me this."

Both of them were confused, and so Virgil started explaining, his brain not comepletely catching up with everything he was saying.

"I've been in love with you guys for.. a while now, I just never realized what it was until I saw the two of you dancing before, and I was just.. mesmerized, because you two are stunning separately, but together you're so, so perfect, and I couldn't look away until I was forced to and-" he stopped, his brain finally catching up, "And uh.. I'd love to date you guys, is what I'm saying."

And then Roman was beaming, immediately hugging Virgil tight and celebrating as he did so. And Logan.. Logan was looking at him, with that soft fond look he always gave to Roman, and.. and he couldn't ask for anything more.

(Reblogs > Likes)

#roman sanders #sanders sides #remus sanders mention #logan sanders #virgil sanders #logince #analogince #emile picani #c!thomas #nico flores #remy sanders mention #janus sanders mention #ts spoilers #cuz i added nico.. i couldn't help it

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xazz · 4 years ago

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Moth Wings 7

Pairing: AltMal, Altair+Desmond Rating: Explicit Tags: vampires, romance, servant AU, music AU, fluff, angst, flangst Status: WIP

Oof it’s been a while. I should really keep on top of this here on Tumblr. As before Tumblr gets updated before AO3, meanwhile Patreon is like 40k words ahead of everyone. Like Malik and Altair have fucked already lol

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Altair was alone in his room carefully restringing his violin. One of the strings had snapped and he took it as an excuse to put all new ones on. He saved the good old ones but putting new ones on gave him something to do before he passed out.

He’d been playing so much and that was why the string had broken. He’d tightened it too much and just all the playing he’d been doing the past few weeks had put a strain on the string and made it snap. It’d also left a cut across the top of his hand when it’d snapped, nothing serious but he’d had to leave Desmond in the care of someone else until the bleeding stopped. You couldn’t have an open wound around a vampire child like that. They didn’t have the control adults did.

He perked up when there was a knock on his door. Who? He got up and opened the door and couldn’t help himself. He looked down at Malik’s chest instead of at his face. “Did you need something, sir?” Altair asked.

“I came to see how your hand was doing,” Malik said.

Altair self consciously reached over and touched his bandage wrapped hand. It stung a little still but the bleeding had stopped. It had only broken the top few layers of skin, barely bleeding at all. “It’s doing fine. Probably won’t even scar.”

“Won’t affect your playing?”

“No, sir,” he said, still not looking at Malik directly.

“Are you able to play now?” Altair just shrugged. He flinched when Malik gently tipped his head up. “I don’t like talking to the top of your head, Altair.”

“Habit,” was all he said. Malik’s hand stayed under his chin, barely touching him.

“Is your hand well enough to play?”

“Tomorrow, probably. I should give it time to heal.”

“Good,” Malik nodded. “I’ve heard you playing for Desmond, you sound better every time, I swear.”

“Yeah, it’s called practice,” Altair said. Malik laughed. He’d never made a vampire laugh before. Well, except Desmond. But that hardly counted. Desmond was a baby.

“How are you sleeping?”

“That’s not your concern,” Altair said and finally pulled his head out of Malik’s reach, taking a step back into his room, hand on the door. “I don’t give you permission to come in here,” he said when he saw Malik try to step over his threshold. While Malik was invited into the castle and that meant every room he was welcome in you could revoke that permission. Altair had learned that when Desmond had first learned to walk and ended up almost going into rooms he shouldn’t have been in because he was curious. Altair was technically a member of the house and he could deny others access to rooms. He didn’t do it often.

Malik was frozen at the doorway. “I’m just trying to help you, Altair.”

“I asked you to leave me alone, sir,” Altair said. “That would help me.”

“How? Huh?”

“What does my condition have to do with you? You’re not of this coven, you’re not of this house. You’re just a guest. You shouldn’t meddle in the affairs of your hosts-

“Because I am not a monster is why,” Malik snapped. “And when I see suffering I want to end it if I can. My country is tearing itself apart and my coven decided to ‘make the best of it’ by coming to the conclusion that because humans were killing each other they could just casually hunt humans again like we were monsters. I couldn’t do anything to end the suffering there but damnit I can try and do something here,” he’d gotten very worked up and Altair was glad they were on opposite sides of the threshold.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like this, Altair. I want to help you.”

“I don’t want your help. So far you’ve done nothing but bring me pain,” Altair told him. “I was in ignorant bliss before. And you thinking you know what is best for me, a man you don’t even know, just made my reality all the more crushing. I told you before, you may help me now but you won’t be here forever, and when you leave this is where I’ll be. I’d rather not know the silken pillow for the stone that comes later.” Malik had nothing to say to that but he looked very annoyed.

“I need to go to bed now. Goodnight, Malik,” and he closed the door. He heard Malik make an wordless noise of anger and frustration on the other side but he didn’t care. He sat back down on his cot to finish stringing the violin. Only then did he put it away carefully and crawl into bed.

—

Now that Altair had taken Desmond outside the boy wanted to go more often. Altair didn’t mind. It was nice this time of year. Brisk at night, a creeping autumn chill settling in the valley. The leaves were starting to change color and soon they’d be falling. The master would bring some humans up in the day and have the grounds raked. It’d start snowing early and last well into spring. Altair had liked autumn and winter before he’d come to the castle but up here in isolation he hated it. There was no hot cider or warm fruit pies or the harvest festival.

So he was surprised when the master came and found Altair and Desmond in one of the gardens. Desmond was splashing his hands in the fountain, chasing the fish around the circular pond and slapping the water to make them dart away. Every time they swam away he’d laugh. Altair had a lamp beside him and was drawing idly. When the master came up he stopped drawing and kept his eyes down.

“So this is where you’ve been off to,” the master said.

“Yes, sir. The young master likes being outside in this weather,” Altair said, looking at the vampire’s well made shoes.

“Good. The town is throwing a festival in a few days. Bring him down to it.”

Altair looked up in surprise but when he met the master’s black eyes his brows went down and Altair immediately looked down again. “The harvest festival? We’re to go this year?”

“Yes. It’s good for him to see what sorts of things humans do so he isnt stupid.”

“Am I simply to accompany you and the mistress or am I free to wander?”

The master was thoughtful. “We will be the king and queen of the harvest and stationary. But a festival is a big place for exploring. We want our son to experience it.”

“Of course, master,” Altair bowed slightly where he was sitting.

“Ensure you look presentable when you go down there. You reflect on us as well,” he said.

“Yes, master,” Altair nodded. You mean not wear the same shirt he’d worn three days in a row because he hadn’t had a chance to wash them because he couldn’t add his laundry to the coven’s. William left after that, stopping briefly to see what Desmond was doing but he didn’t have much interest in the child.

Altair bit his lower lip and went back to his drawing. He needed to plan for this and make sure he had time to clean his nicer clothes. Or at least his nicest clothes. They were fairly nice too. He didn’t wear them often so he could keep them in good shape.

He heard a rustling of the trees and looked up, shielding the lamp slightly to help with his night vision. At first he saw nothing and then he hunched. A few members of the coven were flying off into the dark, their dragonfly and beetle wings flashing in the silver moonlight. He could hear their voices from here but not what they were saying, chattering to each other. Desmond looked up too. He held onto the fountain and started jumping up and down his little transparent wings buzzing without generating any lift. But he was trying.

They swooped across the nearly full moon, laughing and playing and Altair didn’t like watching them. Seeing human figures with wings like bugs flying in the night sky didn’t fill him with a sense of wonder. Were they just playing? Or were they out to play hunt? He’d heard of that happening, especially this coven. Not in Castlesong but in other towns in the valley they’d play stalk and hunt the people there only to laugh and dart away into the sky, finding the human’s fear of being eaten hilarious.

The vampires darted around the air but eventually flew too far away for Altair to hear or see them anymore. That made him feel better. He turned away from the sky. Desmond whined in annoyance he couldn’t fly with them and kept jumping to try and fly after them. Then he sat angrily on the ground, arms folded, pouting hard. Altair grinned watching him. “You’ll fly one day, Desmond,” Altair called to him. Desmond just whined and reached up towards the moon. “I know. You’ll get there when you’re older, just like the others,” Altair promised him.

“Now,” Desmond whined. Altair laughed. Desmond got up and came over to Altair and collapsed on his thigh. “Now,” he said looking up at Altair.

“Sorry. I can’t fly, neither can you,” he stroked Desmond’s hair gently. “But once your wings are bigger you’ll be able to.” Desmond just whined. “I know. Being a sweet little boy is so hard,” Altair teased him. Desmond whined louder and Altair just laughed some more.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Altair nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him. He twisted around and frowned. It was Malik. He’d left Altair alone for a few days but he couldn’t seem to figure it out that Altair wanted to just be left alone for real. He was dressed in an elegant black and blue outfit that wasn’t a cut Altair had ever seen. At least not on a man. It looked almost like a dress but closer to a long tunic.

“Did you need something, sir?” Altair asked, looking at Desmond instead of Malik.

“I couldn’t help but overhear. Desmond wanted to join the others in a flight?”

“Yes. But he’s still too little.” Desmond pouted at Altair.

“Well that’s true, but he can still fly.”

Altair looked at him in confusion. “Unless there’s something I’m missing about how wings work, no he can’t,” he said.

He almost swallowed his tongue when Malik came around and without asking picked Desmond up. The child protested for half a second but in that time Malik unfurled his huge wings and picked himself up off the ground. Then Desmond started making happy little squeaks like he did when she was a newborn.

Altair got to his feet nervously, drawings forgotten. “Don’t drop him,” Altair called up to Malik who was only ten or so feet above his head.

“I would never,” Malik said. He flew back and forth around the fountain.

Altair’s heart was in his throat when Malik flew up over the garden trees and he lost sight of them in the darkness. His heart pounded with anxiety and then a huge pair of eyes appeared in the darkness above. Altair took a moment to realize it was the false eyes on the inside of Malik’s moth-like wings. He let out a shaky breath of relief when Malik landed in front of him.

“He’s fine,” Malik said even as Altair snatched the baby from Malik.

“If he was anything less than fine it’d be my life,” Altair said, holding Desmond tightly.

“Plaw!” Desmond cried happily, squirming in Altair’s arms but Altair kept a firm grip on him.

Altair took a deep breath to calm himself but his heart was still hammering. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked Desmond. Desmond nodded hugely, a huge smile on his face. “What do we say to people who do nice things for us?” he asked and faced Desmond towards Malik.

“Thank you,” Desmond cried cutely.

Malik looked taken aback a moment and then softened. “You’re welcome. What are you doing out here?”

“We’re enjoying the night,” Altair said, trying not to sound incredulous. He was a servant, not a captive. He could leave the castle as he wanted and certainly walk the grounds.

“Plaw plaw,” Desmond demanded.

“Desmond, hush,” Altair said.

“Altear, plaw!”

Altair sighed. “Alright.” He’d left his violin in the castle. He tried to juggle Desmond around to pick up his things but to his surprise Malik just did so instead. “I can take those,” he said, holding a hand out for them.

“I don’t mind,” Malik said.

“I’m sure this doesn’t qualify as leaving me alone,” Altair said.

“I live here. You’ll have to get used to me being around,” Malik said with a smirk. The real annoying part about it was that it just made Malik look more handsome, especially with his slightly wind ruffled hair from flying.

Altair just didn’t bother arguing. “Fine,” he said and took Desmond back into the castle. He let the boy down in his room and Desmond ran around and pulled out some of his toys and set them up like a little audience to listen to Altair play the violin. “I’ll take that now,” he held his hand for his things again to Malik.

“Can I join the audience?” Malik asked sheepishly. That annoyed Altair. Why was he so persistent in trying to bother Altair? Couldn’t he just leave Altair alone? But Altair figured at this point it’d be easier just to go along with it than fight Malik on it. He was good at making himself a nuisance and Altair didn’t have the energy to fight him.

“If you want,” and Altair took the sketchbook and his pencils. Malik glided into the room and sat cross legged behind Desmond’s toys he was still setting up to witness Altair’s playing.

Altair got his violin and got ready. He’d built up the proper calluses now over the weeks and his hand dexterity was way up. That made him happy. “Is everyone ready?” he asked Desmond who was carefully aligning his toys just so.

“Almost,” Desmond said, rearranging the wooden horses he had into some order that made the most sense to him, which Altair had no idea what that was but it made him happy. Then Desmond flopped down next to a large soft stuffed animal. “Plaw,” he said and he gave a little cheer when Altair drew out the first chord across the strings.

The two vampires watched and listened in silent delight. Altair hardly noticed them. He was playing a song he’d found the last time he’d visited his father. He’d brought some sheet music back up to the castle to have some actual music to play. The song he played was the only one he’d memorized so far. It was normally played with a singing accompaniment but Altair didn’t sing well enough to try. It was about a mountain climber trying to reach the tallest peak surrounding the valley. But he was foolish and went during a blizzard and never came home. People found him frozen to death on the side of the mountain a week later once the weather turned. It was a sad song but the tempo was upbeat and was usually sung as a cheerful but cautionary tale about not being an idiot and staying home during blizzards.

He finished the song and Malik clapped. Desmond looked at Malik and after a second mimicked him, slapping his palms together and not really succeeding in a proper clap. “That was amazing,” Malik said. “Right, Desmond? Altair plays beautiful music.”

“Bu-ful,” Desmond declared, still clapping.

“Did you make that?” Malik asked him.

“No. It’s a well known bard tune here in the valley. It’s about not going out during a blizzard or you’ll freeze to death,” Altair said.

“Excuse my ignorance: what’s a blizzard?” Malik asked. “We don’t have that where I’m from.”

“Well it's a storm but instead of rain it’s snow so thick you can’t see through it and can drop feet and feet of snow. It’s dangerous to go out in because of the cold.”

Malik grimaced. “That sounds terrible. Do you have blizzards often here?”

“A few times during winter, yes.” He laughed when Malik shivered just thinking about it. “You came here.”

“I didn’t think the weather would be that extreme,” Malik admitted.

“Altear, plaw plaw,” Desmond said, quite over the adults having a conversation when he could have more music.

“Okay okay,” Altair said to quiet him. He tried playing a song he was in the process of memorizing. He had the first part down but the second part was coming along slow. But he played it and the vampires didn’t care that he played the first few dozen bars over and over again to try and remember the next part.

Eventually he grew frustrated. He needed the sheet music. “Alright, that’s enough for now,” he declared.

“Awwww,” Desmond complained.

“I’ll play later,” Altair said.

“Yay!”

“Now put your toys away. They all want to go home after the performance,” Altair said. Desmond got up and started picking up his toys.

Malik unfolded from the floor. “That was magnificent,” he said, coming over to Altair as he was putting his instrument away. “It sounds so different from how you started off.”

“Desmond insists I play every day. It’s hard not to improve,” Altair said.

“I’m quite jealous of him. He gets to hear you play all the time. I just do if I happen to walk by at the right moment.” Altair just shrugged. Malik looked at Desmond cleaning up. “I’ve seen other vampire children, they’re never this well behaved, or clean up their own mess,” he said.

“Were they raised by vampires, or humans?”

“Vampires,” Malik said.

“Vampire parents don’t care about their children,” Altair said, punctuating it with clasps on the case snapping closed.

“That’s not true,” Malik protested.

Altair looked at him mildly, looking up but over his shoulder just so Malik wouldn’t touch him. “From what I’ve seen so far they don’t,” was all he said.

Malik grimaced. “Well... William and Kaley aren’t really star parent material I’ll agree,” he said. “But most other vampire parents care about the raising of their children. They’re still rarely this well behaved.”

“You can care about your children but if they’re old and aloof you’ll neglect them anyway,” Altair said. “And they’ll act unruly. I assume that’s why the masters have had humans raise their children for them. They know they don’t care, so force a human to care about them instead.”

Malik was taken aback. “The rest of them?”

“As far as I know,” Altair shrugged. He moved away from Malik and went to help Desmond with the last bit of putting his toys away. “What do you want to do now, Desmond?”

Desmond looked thoughtful. “Dwa,” he said.

“Okay,” Altair said gently and got some paper and pastels and pencils and put them on the floor for Desmond to draw with. Altair didn’t mind if Malik was still there. He could hang around if he wanted but Altair didn’t care about him. His only worry was Desmond. Desmond had an active imagination and loved drawing and it was full of color and intricate lines as he mimicked Altair. Altair also sometimes drew him lined drawings to color in. He’d gotten very good at drawing flowers as of late for Desmond to color in as those were some of Desmond's favorites. It meant there was a stuffed folder full of messily colored well drawn flowers.

He was shocked when Malik sat down on the floor with them. “May I join you, young master?” he asked Desmond.

“Dwa?”

“Yes. I like to draw too.”

“Okie,” Desmond said happily and went back to merrily scribbling on some paper.

Altair looked at Malik as he started drawing on a half used piece of paper Desmond had already drawn a few wide scribbles on. He was using Desmond seemingly random lines to make something out of them. Altair couldn’t help but keep glancing at what Malik was drawing even as he was casually using the pastels to make block shapes on his own paper. He was surprised that Malik was actually quite good. He had a delicate but purposeful hand, the pencil he was using barely leaving a mark on the paper but he went over it again and again to build up depth and volume in a way Altair had never seen before.

After a little while he’d turned some spiraled scribbles Desmond had put on the paper into strange centaurs of those striped horses that pulled his carriage. Zebras? Altair thought that was what they were called.

“Ooo,” Desmond leaned over to see what Malik was doing. “Horsey,” he pointed.

“Yes. They’re called zebras,” Malik said patiently.

“Zeeebas,” Desmond said.

“Close,” Malik allowed. “I have some.”

“Have horsies?”

Altair sighed. “Now you’ve done it?”

“What?” Malik asked.

“Horsies. Horsies. Horsies!” Desmond cried. “Altear horsies.”

“I take it he likes horses?” Malik asked with a grin.

“He loves horses. Ever since he saw Jacob and Evie leave that one time on them a few weeks ago to go visit a town in the north part of the valley but they were too lazy to fly,” Altair sighed.

“Altear, horsies! Zeeeebas!”

“I think he just wants to taste one at this point,” Altair leaned on his thigh.

Malik chuckled. “I have zebras,” he told Desmond. Desmond’s black eyes got huge. “Would you like to see them, young master?” Desmond’s mouth popped open and he just made a high pitched screeing sound he did when he was excited.

Altair reached over and closed his mouth. “That’s loud,” he said. Desmond flapped his hands at Altair excitedly, whining loudly. “Use your words and answer master Malik properly,” he said calmly.

Desmond tried to compose himself but he still flapped his arms excitedly. “Go zeebas?”

“Ah— if it’s alright with Altair,” Malik looked at Altair.

“What do we say?” Altair asked Desmond.

“Please!”

“Yes. We see the zebras. But first we have to clean up.” Desmond made an annoyed noise. “The quicker we clean up the sooner we can see the zebras.” Desmond immediately got up and started putting the pastels and pencils into their wooden bin. Altair gathered up the papers. Malik handed over his zebra centaurs over to Altair to add to the pile. Altair took a more than cursory glance over the picture and quickly put it away and got up to hide his blush. The two centaurs had his and Malik’s faces on them.

How inappropriate.

Altair picked up the bin and put them away, out of reach of Desmond normally and the paper went into one of the nearly overflowing folders full of paper. “All clean?” Altair asked Desmond.

“All cwean!” Desmond said proudly. Altair held out his hand and Desmond bounced over to grab it. “Zeebas now?” he asked, pulling on Altair’s hand.

“Yes. If that’s alright with you, sir.”

“Of course. I offered,” Malik said. He guided them out of the room and through the castle. They passed a few members of the coven who’d just come back from their flight, laughing and shoving each other playfully. They greeted Malik and Desmond but ignored Altair entirely, not even acknowledging that he was holding Desmond’s hand while he excitedly told them they were going to see the horses in the stables. Then they passed the trio by and disappeared into the castle.

“Rude bunch,” Malik said.

“They’re vampires,” was all Altair said and he saw Malik wince.

They left the castle and Altair saw the dull color of a false dawn on the horizon. They couldn’t be out here too long. Malik led them around the drive to the stables. In the large stables were normal horses and in a paddock outside were Malik’s four zebras.

Desmond cried out when he saw the zebras and pulled on Altair’s hand but Altair only walked a little faster.

They got to the fence and Altair picked Desmond to put him on top of the fence to sit, holding onto the boy lightly so he didn’t fall. “Just be ready to grab him,” Malik said.

“Why?”

“Zebras can be... aggressive,” Malik said even as he climbed over the fence. Yes. Just say that and walk off like it didn’t shoot worry all through Altair instantly.

He didn’t know what Malik was doing but he did start leading a zebra over by a halter. The creature seemed lethargic. Not a shock. It was late and it had probably been just woken up. “Here we go, young master, a zebra,” Malik said, presenting the zebra before Desmond. “I believe this one’s name is Qaseem.”

“Horsie,” Desmond said and reached out to pet the front of its nose. The zebra allowed it, its eyes lidded and sleepy. “Pretty,” he said.

“Yes. They are, aren’t they,” Malik said. “They’re from my country, far to the south of here. Only vampires keep them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re a pain to train, and breed, and maintain,” Malik said and Desmond just stared at him, not understanding. “Because humans don’t like them,” he said instead.

“Ooooh.” That Desmond understood.

Malik let Desmond pet Qaseem for a little bit before Altair said, “The sun will be up soon. We should go back inside.”

“No. Horsie,” Desmond whined.

“We can see the horsie tomorrow night too. But the sun is coming. We don’t like the sun, right?”

Desmond looked torn. “Sun bad,” he finally agreed.

Altair helped Desmond down from the fence once he gave Qaseem one last pet on the head. Malik released the zebra to go back and join the others of the little herd. He climbed over the fence and joined them on the right side. “See zeebas again?”

“Yes, of course,” Malik said.

“Yay! Altear, hungry,” he proclaimed.

“Yes. I’m sure,” Altair said.

---------

Hey you, yeah, if you liked it, consider reblogging. It helps me a lot. Maybe leave something nice in the tags idk.

#Assassin's Creed #AltMal #Altair #Malik al-Sayf #Desmond Miles #Moth Wings #shut up bb

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kdtheghostwriter · 4 years ago

Text

The Dust Up in Jaku

You sure are!

Okay, housekeeping first. I don’t often go here. In fact, this is my first proper visit. I’m caught up with the manga entirely to be clear. I just don’t always go looking for feedback. This blog is miscellaneous, tailored mostly to my whims at the time, but it’s known primarily for its monthly posts on Shingeki no Kyojin. That series is ending soon. These posts have been for practice primarily. A way for me to keep my writing chops warm for other projects. They’ve been incredibly helpful in that regard. I’m not sure yet what I’ll do to supplement that practice after the series conclusion. I don’t see myself doing monthly meta posts anymore. I started doing One Punch Man write ups a couple years ago and doing the occasional meta for big plot developments is probably the ticket. But then there’s BNHA.

My Hero Academia is a bit more…shall we say ‘aggressive’ in its storytelling. That’s what I’ve seen in this latest arc anyway. I’m a fan. And I figured, hey, I can dip a pinky toe in the fandom for a bit. So, before reading any further, please note that this will read as the perspective of a reader that has one eye on the story and doesn’t spend a great amount of time in the discourse.

Okay so let’s start with the obvious or what should be the obvious. Bakugo isn’t dead just yet. If for no other reason than Gran Torino getting spiked by Shigaraki only to supply a sassy quip moments later. You don’t die in a shonen series without permission. Besides that, though, no one I’ve seen seems to be asking the important question here.

What is All For One’s idea?

We saw him reach out to Tomura who was himself on the verge of death and took full control of his body. Those telltale black tendrils have seldom caused bodily harm on their own and there’s little evidence to believe they’d start now. We then can make one of two assumptions.

Quirk theft: AFO has the ability to steal and redistribute quirks and Shigaraki made clear that stealing One For All was his main goal in this fight outside of surviving. Bakugo is one of the few people who know about this secret war and he more than anyone there would recognize that losing OFA to Tomura would be in the nicest terms a disaster.

Forced Quirk Activation: Considering that Kacchan is a walking napalm bomb, this is another possible disaster. Using a massive explosion to escape the battlefield at this moment has some very “I’ll get you next time, Gadget!” energy.

And Tomura has to escape this. I’ll explain that later. But first I must laugh.

No, that’s not Garou after his first hour in the Monster Association. Tomura has been annihilated over the course of this fight. He’d probably be dead two or three times over if it weren’t for his fancy Deadpool Healing Factor which itself wouldn’t be working if Eraser Head wasn’t out of commission.

Shout-outs to Aizawa by the way. There’s a reason Tomura stopped in the middle of the battle to tell him how cool he was.

Anyway, more to the point: Shigaraki can’t beef it here. Don’t get me wrong, as tragic as his story is, there really is no other option currently than to destroy him. The only other course of action is to say, “Please, Tomura, don’t make this entire city and the innocent people living there disappear into dust.” Which…yea. On top of that, he’s the series antagonist and the clear foil for our hero Deku. Narratively it just wouldn’t make sense to have him climb that mountain before he’s ready. And he’s still not ready. His arms are thrashed yet again from his current onslaught.

For anyone having trouble visualizing this, imagine Shiggy as a red rubber ball and Deku is a paddle, smacking him repeatedly. I have this great picture in my head of the news chopper zoomed in on Deku as he calls out every state and major city in the contiguous United States. Jokes aside, the art is phenomenal. This panel in particular really hammers home the aforementioned duality like so many haymakers to the face. The damage is stacking up faster than his regeneration can supply but All For One has stepped in to take the reins, surely saving his neck but that isn’t the only reason Shiggy will see his way out of this spot.

Yeah! Remember him? This big fucker is still on his way. And he’s got the League of Villains in tow. Why is that detail important?

The only thing more important than a major plot event like this is the aftermath. You can easily develop your characters through the way they react to the events that occur to them. Somebody has to break it to Tomura that Twice is gone and I don’t envy the one who gets that job.

Also…lol okay, I don’t wanna do the trolly thing of “oooh Dabi’s a Todoroki!” but c’mon man Dabi’s a Todoroki. I’ve barely paid attention to this subplot and even I know that. Shonen series are by their nature very melodramatic and it would only make sense for such a massive bombshell to be dropped now, in the midst of life-or-death struggle, with direct implications for the Number One Hero and his children – one on each side of the law. Point is! None of that can happen if Shigaraki bites the big one so I’d expect the dusty lad to keep kicking for now.

The same goes for Bakugo, although, he may have early retirement in his future. The main reason Kacchan can’t die here is because, despite what you may think of him as a character – and I’ve seen enough discourse to know that many many people are not fans, such is your right – having a teenaged bully redeem himself by sacrificing his life is a bit much. Especially when you consider this little nugget.

All Might has him pegged here. I would never endorse someone telling another person to kill themselves even when done ironically but Katsuki was a child and children say any manner of dumb, reckless things. More than that, children lash out when they’re scared, and nothing scared him more than being surpassed by Midoriya. All Might goes on to point out that Bakugo earnestly helping with Izuku’s training is his way of atoning for his past behavior. I agree with that stance and I think it’s more than enough. He knows he was wrong and more recently he’s discovered that he knows he wants no harm to come to Deku. Bakugo learned a big lesson in this chapter; by extension, Deku must learn a lesson as well.

Then there’s this geek.

Disclaimer: I don’t hate Endeavor so much as I’m apathetic towards him. He’s the Number One hero by default and it shows throughout this arc. Even here, we see the rookie Kacchan barking orders at him and Shoto and coming up with a pretty solid plan to finally end this damn fight. It didn’t work, but that has more to do with outside interference than inexperience, and it’s not like Endeavor was rapt with ideas to begin with.

I will defend him slightly, however. Some people have gone so far as to call him useless in this fight and I wouldn’t. Shigaraki got a massive buff even if he’s only at 75% capacity. Enhanced speed and strength, plus a healing factor means he has a threshold that Endeavor just can’t overcome. The days of one guy taking on the Final Boss is long past gone. Even so, this must be pretty mortifying for a guy so obsessed with climbing the ladder. His second real test as the top hero and he gets his ass kicked for an hour or more by a shaggy kid who forgot his lip balm at home. LOL is what I’m saying.

Thanks for indulging that aside. Back to Deku. The very first panel of this chapter is a nurse warning him that repeated injuries could result in him losing the use of his arms. Naturally, this follows with Deku smashing Shigaraki in the face five or six times in a row. The combination of Float and Black Whip is keeping the villain suspended in the air where his disintegration quirk can’t reach the support team below. A fact that Deku points out when Bakugo shouts at him to disengage. This is a great bit of dramatic tension, because neither one is wrong. Izuku’s body is falling apart. I mean, Tomura’s is too, but Tomura can lowkey ignore that and if he reaches the ground, everyone is screwed anyway.

This plays into Bakugo forming the plan with the Todorokis in the first place and then intercepting AFO’s attack on behalf of the helpless Deku. He sees One For All as a cursed power, but he’s smart enough to know that this power is the only chance they have of winning. He then saves his friend to help them win.

Now we come to the bit that has me more interested than even Kacchan’s fate. That being Izuku’s reaction, both in the moment and after the battle is done. As previously noted, Deku is not in less danger now. He’s emptying the tank right here despite possible long-term damage to his body.

The implications of that statement are terrifying. More so coming from a teenaged boy that hasn’t even made it through a third of his life yet. The legacy of OFA is dark and bloody. It was Bakugo who pointed out that the previous holders of the super strength quirk all died young – all murdered at the hands of Tall, Dark and Faceless. Toshinori would have suffered the same fate if it weren’t for a time sensitive cocktail of rage, survival instinct and adrenaline. Deku is sipping from that same cocktail right now and he’s in better shape than All Might was (barely) but it’s clear that he cannot 1v1 a boss with a replenishing health bar. Perhaps if he could sustain an attack without his limbs exploding like Squidward after too many Krabby Patties? Oh well.

My Hero Academia is an origin story. The story of the hero Deku and his journey to number one. With that in mind, we know he can’t lose but he doesn’t necessarily have to win. Not here at the very least. I have no clue how this arc resolves itself but finding out is going to be much fun.

#bnha meta #bnha 285 #my hero acadamy #izuku mydoria #katsuki bakugo #tomura shigaraki #shoto todoroki #toshinori yagi #all might #endeavor #i whip my nemesis back and forth

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multiverse-in-archive · 3 years ago

Note

Five Times Touched (for Vegeta)

send me "five times touched" for a drabble about five times my muse touched yours!

((So some of these will be long, so I'll put these under read more-))

The Saiyan propped his arm up on the doorway, admittedly a tad exhausted from... well... today's events.

It was all rather hectic.

But it taught him something.

This family that he'd inadvertedly created. He... wanted to be a part of it...

Starting with the mother of his son...

Now where...

"And what are you doing here?"

And there she is.

He turned his head just in time to see her previous casual pace picking up to speed walking.

"Oh my Kami, are you still hurt!? Why didn't you go up with the others to the Lookout!?"

And there's the fussing.

... Alright, so how does he do this?

"... I came to talk to you..."

“And what could you possibly need to say that's more important than-"

He cut her off when he reached his free hand over to gently grasp her arm. And for a moment, they both stared at each other's eyes in silence.

He swore he'd never seen anything so blue before her...

... After a while she sighed and reached up tp grasp his wrist.

"Come on, go take a seat and we can talk about whatever you need to say while I work on that mess you made yourself.”

He simply nodded before pushing himself off the doorframe and allowing himself to be led further inside.

---

Alright... So... This took a while to prepare.

It took interrogating the Earthlings about the customs of what he was about to do while trying to avoid being found out before he could even make plans. And once that was done, Vegeta had started running errands with Bulma more often, eyes scanning the ground for coins to pick up discreetly.

... Of course, when he found that rings were something he could never hope to afford with the route he was going, he settled with the next best thing.

He melted the coins down with his own ki, and tirously sculpted and molded the metal into something she could wear on her finger.

... It was far from pretty, but it was the best he could do.

Now was the time.

The prince slipped into the bluenette's lab, makeshift ring clutched in his hand as he approached the heiress from behind.

"Bulma."

She paused her work and looked over her shoulder as soon as he announced his pressence.

"Yeah? Did Trunks lose something again?"

He didn't answer, simply continued his approach.

He saw Bulma raise a brow and turn to fully face him as he came closer and closer, only stopping when he was right in front of her.

"Uh...? Can I help you?"

Again, no answer. He looked down at her hands.

They said... left... right...?

So his free hand made a grab for it, heightening her confusion.

"Uhm... Vegeta?"

... What's the ring finger again? It's... right right right- The- The one next to the pinky finger!

So he moved to slip the ring onto her finger.

It was somewhat lumpy and a tad big on her finger. Not really surprising, as his hands were bigger than hers and he'd attempted to mold it around his own finger to get the shape right. Which he didn't even succeed at. And it looks like he forgot to smooth out the imprint his calluses left in.

So there she was, staring bewilderedly at the piece of metal hanging limply off of her thin, delicate finger.

"... What's this?" she finally asked, looking back up at his face only to be met with his intense stare.

"... Marry me," he finally said, his tone commanding.

This is how you propose, right?

---

Earth customs were so odd. Though he'd already knew that from the proposal.

So much planning and preperation, and much of it was focused on vanity rather than power.

And frankly, he felt a tad rediculous, standing in this suit in front of everyone that Bulma knew on either side of the asile. Some of who he'd never met.

Apparently one side of the asile was supposed to be taken up by the bride's circle. The other the groom's. But since everyone Vegeta knew that he could have ever cared about was dead, two of which he'd burned bridges with due to his own selfishness, that arrangement couldn't happen. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he waited.

What was taking so long anyway-

Then, he heard the music play, and his eyes trailed to the other end of the asile.

And there she was, dressed in pure white and her face covered in a semi transparent veil. One arm clutched the arm of her father, the other a bouquet of colorful flowers.

Time seemed to stand still around them for a moment as she moved closer. And it felt like the only people in the world was just the two of them.

It took a second for him to realize that his jaw had slackened, but when he did, he clenched it and he had his face shift back to its typical stoicism, though he did feel his cheeks warming a bit.

It was when she joined him at the front did Dr. Briefs let her go, joining the rest of the guests in an unoccupied seat next to his wife. Vegeta huffed before flipping the obstructive veil from over her face. What is the point of this thing?

From there, a stranger from behind the podium droned on and on, and he really didn't pay attention.

At least until something caught his ears.

"If anyone objects to this union, please speak now or forever hold your peace."

Vegeta's eyes flicked to the guests, eyes narrowed hostily.

Who's the motherfucker that would dare-

He looked over all of them, trying to find the most likely canidate. It past over Chichi with her new son in her lap, a photo of Kakarot between her and Gohan. His soon to be parent in laws, his soon to be mother in law holding little Trunks in her lap. Krillin, growing in his hair and sitting next to the tincan. A blond woman with a laptop on her lap displaying a blue and purple face on the screen and sitting next to an old man. His dark eyes finally fell on Yamcha, whose gentle smile seemed to drop at the eye contact.

Got something to say, wolf boy?!

Almost as if reading his mind, the scar faced man rose up his hands and shook his head in response.

His eyes were torn away from the crowd when he felt a satin gloved hand cup his face and gently turn it away back to his bride.

Finally, the man spoke.

"Do you, Vegeta, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, until death do you part?"

Vegeta blinked at having been adressed, dark eyes flicking to the speaker for a moment before returning to Bulma.

"... Uh... Yes? I'm the one that proposed. What the hell kind of a question is that?"

He heard a bit of snickering in in the crowd and noticed Bulma hiding her face in one of her hands.

What?

Even the man stared at him bewildered for a moment before shrugging.

"And do you, Bulma Briefs, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, until death do you part?

Bulma peeked back up at Vegeta from her hand, looking like she was seriously considering to say no.

What? Was it something he said?

"I do..." she murmured, her hand slowly returning to her boquet.

"Then by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Vegeta raised a brow at that.

"I neded permission to do that?"

"Vegeta..." she sighed in exasperation.

He looked back at her before cupping her face. Then he leaned forward, close enough so that their lips were brushing against each other.

"Your Earth customs are strange..." he breathed.

"Just shut up and kiss me already...!” she hissed back.

He found a couple of chuckles huffing out of his nose before he finally joined their lips to do just that.

---

Vegeta sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

He's... got a lot to answer for after the shit he pulled... Especially to...

He swallowed.

She was probably never going to forgive him for this...

Rightfully so, he reminded himself.

Just get it over with.

He pushed the door open, seeing his son and wife's heads pop up to face him.

"Dad!" Trunks called out before rushing towards him, practically tackling into him.

Reflexively, Vegeta wound his arms around his son before loosening the hold, hands lightly resting on the boy's shoulder blades.

"Trunks! Don't jump on me like that!" he scolded.

He saw the lavender haired boy open his mouth to reply, but whatever he said never came out as the matriarch of the family stood up, arms crossed.

"Trunks, go upstairs and play with your toys, okay? Your father and I have some things to discuss."

Vegeta held back a grimace.

Yup. Sounds about right.

"But mom-" the Saiyan hybrid started in protest.

"Do as she says, boy," Vegeta said firmly.

The boy looked between his parents for a moment before reluctantly doing as he's told, flying off towards the stairs.

It was only when they were sure he was gone did they approach each other. Until they were face to face.

Blue eyes glared into his dark ones, and the heat of them reminded him of the newer stars in the universe. Burning. Scorching.

"... Bulma..."

She pushed him in repsonse, causing him to step back. Of course it didn't hurt him a bit. She couldn't hurt him if she wanted to.

"What the hell were you thinking!?"

Push.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Push.

She looked like she was starting to tear up.

"Killing all those people!"

Push.

"Holding them all hostage like that!"

Push.

"You almost killed us!"

Push.

"What if you actually did kill us!? Huh!?"

Push.

He could definitely see tears starting to roll down her face now.

"WHAT THEN!?"

Push.

"All BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO BEAT GOKU!!!"

Push.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS NOW!!!"

Shove!

"... I'm sorry..." he finally said, quietly.

Bulma froze then, staring up at him in shock.

Not surprising. He's never said sorry.

Not before now.

So they stayed like this for a moment, staring at each other.

Then her brows shifted to a scowl.

"If you're really sorry... then... Then don't do this again...! You hear me!? Don't you ever pull this crap again, Vegeta!"

He reached a hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing away a tear.

"You have my word..." he said softly.

And just like that, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. Vegeta simply held her there, letting her let it out. His fingers on one hand was tangled in her short blue hair, and his other hand was resting on the middle of her back.

All the while, he felt an aching in his chest, and he couldn't describe it.

Never again... He'd never hurt her like this again.

---

"Vegeta," her voice called from the intercom in the Gravity Chamber, "Could you come out here? We need to talk."

He huffed, though partially from exhaustion.

"Can't this wait? I'm in the middle of training."

"It's important!" his wife snapped, "Get your butt out here before I drag you out!"

... He gave a sigh at that.

Dammit, fine...

He moved, albiet with some difficulty, to the console before shutting it off. The red lights went out, and he was freed from the merciless pull of the artificial gravity.

He rolled his shoulders as he made his way out, met with the sight of Bulma leaning against the wall nearest the exit of the room his chamber was situated in.

She first tossed the towel at his face, which he proceeded to wipe the sweat off with. Then she tossed him a bottle of water.

"So you know how I've been sick lately?" she started as he chugged down the beverage.

He coughed at that, his muscles stiff as he eyed her.

"It's not terminal is it?"

"Oh calm down, I'm not dying," she huffed.

His muscles sagged in relief, though he cocked his head to the side.

"Then what is it?"

Slowly, her hands moved to her stomach.

"I'm pregnant again..."

He nearly dropped his bottle, and he stared at her for a moment, gobsmacked.

Then, slowly, he approached.

"... So... we're...."

"Having another kid, yeah."

Slowly, his free hand reached up to her stomach, fingertips resting lightly on it.

It was flat right now, of course, as it probably hasn't even formed a vaguely human shape yet. But in the coming weeks...

... He remembered her first pregnancy, where he up and ditched her. At the time, he wasn’t willing to accept having a family.

But this time... This time things would be different...!

#Message in a Bottle {Ask}#Let Me Tell You a Story {Drabble}#The Unit {The Briefs Family}#I HOPE THESE ARE OKAY KDGHUGVBHJ #I TRIED REALLY HARD ON THESE-

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queen-scribbles · 4 years ago

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Failure’s Reward

SO. Have 3k of Ryn/Red that’s partially @haledamage‘s fault for A) screaming about Red meta with me and B) generally being an enabler/encourager. The rest of the fault lies with me playing in the @shepherds-of-haven kiss generator after I finished Ryn’s recruit form and liking more of the options it gave for her first kiss with Red. 😅

----

Xaeryn was not used to failing.

Between her intellect, magical talent, and various other skills, she succeeded at what she attempted far more often than not. ‘Even the best of us feel the sting of defeat from time to time,’ Archmage Tevanti had reassured her once, a fatherly hand on her shoulder, when one of her earliest attempts at divination had left her with little more than a headache. He was right, of course, but it had been a long time since Xaeryn felt that sting. And never quite so close to literally.

True, the attempted ambushers were all dead. But they’d put up enough of a fight it didn’t really feel like a victory. The room was a wreck, curtains still smoldering around the broken windows, the artifact she and Red were supposed to be transporting was smashed to bits, and the two of them had hardly escaped unscathed.

“So much for throwing off potential pursuit by staying here rather than in town,” Red muttered, giving a mirthless chuckle as he crouched to look more closely at the shattered artifact. He nudged a few of the pieces with one hand, his other--wrist already swelling and likely broken--curled in close.

“Yeah,” Xaeryn grunted through clenched teeth, surveying the mess made of their intended lodgings. At least the house was abandoned... “They knew what they were doing, I’ll give them that.”

Red stiffened at the taut edge to her voice. He turned from his examination of fragmented crystal and clay even as he pushed to his feet, then blanched when he saw her; barely standing with the wall’s support, one hand clutching her side in a futile effort to stem the blood soaking her shirt. “Shit, Xaeryn!”

“That bad?” she tried to joke as he crossed the room in just a few swift strides. She winced at the small cuts just above his eyebrow trailing blood down the side of his face, at the way he was holding his arm. But he clearly only had eyes or care for one thing right now, and it wasn’t any of his own injuries. “Doesn’t... nngh. Doesn’t feel like much...”

“Ryn...” Red tugged on her hand and she tipped it away from her side to let him see. “Yes, it’s that bad. Shit.” His hand fell away and he stepped back.

“It’s just a scratch,” Xaeryn mumbled, clamping her hand back over the stinging wound, for all the good it was doing. Sun above, hope it’s not poisoned...

“Ryn, I could see bone,” he informed her, running his good hand through his hair as he started pacing. It stayed in sweat-matted red spikes. “That’s more than a scratch. And neither of us knows a damn thing about healing, regular or magical-”

“Red.” She’d only seen him get this wound up a few times over the course of their friendship. While it made sense it would happen on an adrenaline crash, she needed him thinking, not babbling.

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to hear her. “-we’re miles out from town, so there’s no help close by-”

“Red.” Xaeryn straightened slightly, sending a fresh trickle of blood oozing between her fingers and spots freckling the edges of her vision. She couldn’t help a faint, small smile watching him pace an uneven path between the smashed furniture and bodies strewn over the floor.

“Come to think of it, we only have cursory knowledge of the town in general, since we weren’t planning to actually stop there.” Red made another swipe through his hair, leaving it an even spikier mess. “We don’t know what kind of aid they could even provide, their attitude toward Diminished, any of that.”

“Red.”

He swung back toward her without a pause in his rambling. “I’m sorry, Xaer, this seemed like such a good idea-”

His pacing brought him closer to her again, and rather than continue her previous efforts, Xaeryn reached out, grabbed a fistful of his shirt collar, and dragged him into a kiss.

There was the barest split second flinch in shock as his good hand instinctively braced against the wall to keep from full tilt stumbling into her, then Red was kissing her back. Desperate and gentle and awkward and wonderful all at the same time. Until they broke for air.

...Wow. Xaeryn saw the half-formed question on Red’s lips and answered before he asked. “You needed to shut up and breathe for a minute so you don’t... don’t pass out,” she teased through a grimace, grip still white-knuckle in the collar of his shirt.

Red gave an unsteady, breathless laugh. “That seems a counter-productive way to go about i-”

She kissed him again, deeper, her hand moving from his collar to curve against his jaw. “That was just because I’ve been wanting to do it forever.”

He laughed again, sheepish mischief in his eyes, and whispered “Ditto,” as his thumb brushed gentle arcs against her cheek.

Xaeryn blinked and pulled back as his meaning hit her, stopping just before her head met the wall. “Wait, what?!” The sharpness of the motion sent a fresh spike of pain tearing through her injury and she sucked in a harsh breath.

Red pressed his hand over hers where it gripped her bloody side. “Let’s maybe have this conversation when you’re not bleeding to death, Xaer?”

“See this is why I needed you thinking instead of panicking,” she muttered wryly through clenched teeth. “You’ve always been the smart one.”

“Now I know you’re in bad shape, you’d never admit that out loud otherwise,” he joked, but he was still pale and his gaze worried as he looked at the stain spreading from under their hands.

“Wouldn’t want you to get an ego,” Xaeryn said with a shaky laugh at the sheer absurdity of the idea, unsure if her head was spinning from blood loss and pain or the warmth of his hand over hers and the fact she’d (finally) kissed him. Probably all of the above... “We need something to actually put pressure on this, stop the bleeding...”

“Right.” Red slipped his hand from over hers with obvious reluctance, absently wiping the blood off on his shirt as he scanned the room for something serviceable. “Here.” He snatched up a shirt from where his pack’s contents had been strewn across the floor during the fight, did his best to fold it one-handed.

Xaeryn caught the wince he tried to hide when his injured wrist brushed the bedpost. He succeeded in folding the shirt just as she opened her mouth to offer help, however, so instead she peeled her hand away from the deep gash to give him access. The movement pulled her shirt with it and a whimper escaped before she could bite it back.

Red flinched. “Sorry.”

“Not you,” she grit out, pressing her hand back over the clumsily-folded shirt. “Just hurts...”

He nodded, something vaguely frantic creeping into his eyes again. “We need something to hold it on, something steadier...” Another rapid scan of the room and he yanked the sheet off the bed, holding it out toward her. “Grab the corner?”

Xaeryn complied almost automatically, Red got a decent grip a few inches in, and between them they tore off a long enough strip to bind her makeshift bandage to her side.

“Now we just need to get... somewhere for help,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes.

“Ryn, stay with me.” Red poked her shoulder.

She dragged her eyes open. “’M trying. ...How’re we getting to help?” They both needed it, after all, and should probably tell someone about the mess this house was now, abandoned or no.

“However we can,” he said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “Hael, I”ll carry you if I have to--”

“But-” Xaeryn started to protest with a strongly dubious look at his swollen wrist.

“Pretty sure that’s just a sprain,” Red brushed it off. “It’d be fine.”

She snorted, which hurt but was the only appropriate response to such a blatant lie. “Liefred Antiqua, if that’s a sprain, this is a papercut.”

He had the decency to give a sheepish chuckle when she broke out his full name. “I’d manage, if that’s what it took. Fortunately, there’s something else we can try first.” He took her arm and gently tugged her closer so he was supporting her rather than the wall. “It’s much faster, too.”

“Do you... d’you have the energy for that?” she mumbled, even as her head lolled toward his shoulder.

Red’s grip around her waist tightened and she’d almost swear she felt his lips brush over her temple. “Only one way to find out.”

---

He was right--appearing out of thin air, battered and bloody, on the outskirts of a town was a very fast way to get help. It came with the watchful presence of a guard or two, but their Shepherd badges alleviated suspicion to the point that presence was more cursory than anything.

In a huge stroke of luck(or answer to prayer, but they could debate that later), the town did actually house an experienced Elae Mage. The no-nonsense Norm man tutted and tsked as he looked over their injuries but promised he could have them patched up in a jiffy. He paired the assurance with a wink and a smile that brought out his crow’s feet. “I’m good at what I do, enough to be cleared by the Autarchy to practice my craft, so long as I work for them and behave myself.”

That’s always the trick, isn’t it? Xaeryn thought but kept to herself.as he set to work carefully undoing her makeshift bandages.

To her relief, he was as good as his word. A scar still remained when he was done with her side, and Red’s wrist(which had been broken, and she almost smacked him for trying to downplay it) was a bit stiff, but they were in much better shape than they’d been an hour ago. The Healer still insisted on bedrest for Xaeryn, citing the copious blood loss as reason enough. “I can mend the flesh, but some things the body must do on its own, you know?”

She did know, and both of them were exhausted anyway--she really didn’t know how Red hadn’t passed out Traveling in his state--so Xaeryn didn’t even protest. She just settled into the relative comfort of the clinic bed he offered. She didn’t fight a smile when Red sat heavily on the edge of it and leaned against the wall next the her so they were shoulder to shoulder, slightly squished in the narrow space. Silence stretched between them for several long moments as they took the chance to catch their breath; comfortable but expectant. A decade and a half of friendship balanced on the cliff’s edge of quiet.

Red was, of course, the one to break it.”So...” he began, then trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

Xaeryn gave a small--slightly nervous--chuckle. “So.”

He rolled his head against the wall to look over at her. “You’ve wanted to kiss me forever, huh, Ryn?”

She rolled her eyes and briefly thought about pushing him off the bed. “Forever in this case being since I was sixteen, yes. And ‘Ditto’? You, who dated practically everyone our age at the Veiled Circle, have wanted to kiss me since forever?”

Red gave a sheepish chuckle. “...Yes. It’s been...more since you came back through Capra and we joined the Shepherds,” he admitted, “but it’s always been there, pretty much. Since about sixteen, at least.”

“You mean we...” Xaeryn groaned, the sound turning to an almost hysterical exhausted giggle halfway through. “We’re idiots.”

Red snorted softly and nudged her shoulder. “No arguments here.”

“So, what was your reason for never saying anything?” she asked, idly tracing her finger back and forth against his knee.

“Same as yours, I suspect,” he said, biting back a smile. “Our friendship’s always meant a lot to me, and I didn’t want to risk-”

“-Risk messing it up,” Xaeryn finished through a yawn “You’re right; mine’s the same. I spent a sennight and a half before I left debating whether or not to say anything,” she admitted.

“So did I,” Red said ruefully. “Not that I was hoping to change your plans or anything, I just know you like making-”

“Informed decisions.” She chuckled, paused with her fingers just brushing his. “You wanted to make sure I had all the relevant facts.”

He hooked his pinkie around hers and smiled. “Something like that. But i kept chickening out. Second guessing myself. And then you left, and Tevanti named me Archmage when he died, and I figured that was that.”

“And then I came back,” Xaeryn said softly, staring at their linked fingers, remembering the slightly thunderstruck look in his eyes that day in Solhadur.

“Ten years later and all grown up,”he said just as softly.”Looking very badass, by the way. And I was happy to see you, as... as an old friend. But I couldn’t help wondering, especially after... you know,” he gestured vaguely with his free hand. “everything in the Phantom Shore.”

She gave a quiet chuckle. “Ditto.”

Red turned to look at her again and she almost lifted her free hand to trace the dark circles under his eyes. “Still didn’t want to risk messing up what we have...”

“Mmhm.” Xaeryn shifted to better face him, bending in her knees so her feet didn’t hang off the end of the bed. “Our friendship’s very important. Precious. We wouldn’t want to gamble it without being sure there’s a chance...”

“So we dance around it and drop hints,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Guess one of us is just going to have to be the brave one.”

She mirrored the shift as she pointed out, “I thought I already did th-”

Red kissed her.

Xaeryn smiled as she leaned into it, felt him do the same. They savored it, hands cupping each other’s faces, stealing quick breaths before going for more. It only broke because Red started to fall off the edge of the bed and jolted back, throwing out an arm to keep his balance. They both laughed at that; the soft giddy, knowing one they’d shared over a dozen or more inside jokes since sixteen.

“Probably just as well,” Xaeryn sighed, nodding toward the window and purpling sky outside. “We both need rest.”

“Mm-hm,” he agreed, rubbing his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to figure out where I’m sleeping...”

“Just stay. For now, at least,” she said. She squeezed his hand. “We’ll both fit.”

Red arched a skeptical brow, glancing at the way their feet were almost hanging off various edges, one of his actually braced against the floor after his near-tumble. “I don’t think we will, Ryn. It looks barely big enough to fit you.”

“That’s my point; if I’d have to sleep half-folded anyway, might as well do it half-siting up with you for company.” Besides, she’d miss the warmth of his side pressed to hers too much.

“The curse of being tall?” he said with a wry laugh and glib tone of one similarly familiar with said “curse”.

“Pretty much,” Xaeryn said with a matching laugh, sitting forward to share one of her pillows with him. “At least it means I grew into my ears.”

He smiled at her tone. “You know, I never even noticed.”

She grinned and tugged an earlobe. “And if you’d said anything to that effect when we were younger, we wouldn’t have had to wait so long for me to kiss you,” she teased.

“Better late than never?” Red offered through a yawn.

“True.” Just looking at how tired he was made her yawn, too, and Xaeryn settled even more, feeling the tug of sore muscles around her new scar as she leaned more heavily on his shoulder. “It’s not like this is the worst place either of us has fallen asleep, either.”

“Mm.” Red squeezed her hand and shot her a teasing grin. “At least this one you won’t have to spend an hour picking twigs out of your hair...”

She swung her free arm to lightly smack him center of the chest. “You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”

“You almost landed on top of me, Ryn. No, no, I’m not.”

She was laughing as she whacked him again. “Bastard. “There was no heat behind the insult, and she nestled her head against his shoulder. “I suppose we can talk more in the morning about... us After we figure out how to tell both Blade and our would-be ally there’s no more artifact.”

Red groaned as he leaned his head against the wall. “Can’t we skip those? There’s a couple conversations I’m not looking forward to having.”

“Oh, me, neither,” Xaeryn agreed, her thumb rubbing over the heel of his hand as she fought down the rising bitterness of failing. “I’m not sure which will be less pleasant; Blade or the mysterious intended “ally”. Which is why we’re putting it off until tomorrow, but having that discussion before we can talk about us. It’s incentive.”

“Good idea.”

“I am the smart one,” she said lightly.

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Red chuckled in reply as he kissed the top of her head.

“I was trying to make you feel better,” she deflected with a smile. “You were looking all panic-stricken and all.”

“Hey, you were in pretty bad shape, I think I’m allowed, Xaer,” he said warmly, jaw cracking as he yawned again.

Xaeryn laughed and snuggled closer, letting her eyes drift closed. “G’night, Red.”

“Night, Ryn.” His breathing slowed almost immediately, body pressed warm against hers, and their hands still tangled together.

Out like a light, she thought with a fond smile. Not that she could blame him. Today had been... eventful. Half-asleep herself, she brought their hands up so she could brush a light kiss against his knuckles(purely because she could now), then let them settle back on the bed, still joined, as she followed Red’s example and drifted off to sleep.

No one liked failure, her even less than most. But if this was what she got out of today’s, Xaeryn was fairly sure she could live with it.

----

Yes, they wake up bc one of them(probably Red) starts to fall off the bed. Yes, they’re a bit sore. No, neither of them care.

#queens fic #shoh #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #ryn/red

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winters-blue-children · 5 years ago

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Games and Theory (A 10k Evan Buckley disaster fic featuring jealous Eddie, phone sex, a fake relationship, and Albert being a genius)

Eddie's not looking for serious. He just wants casual, easy, and uncomplicated.

Buck has been in love with his best friend for two years. Does he take his sister's advice and confess his feelings? Nah, Evan Buckley always has to do things the hard way.

At some point, Buck and Albert became pretty good friends. Maybe it’s the shared older siblings mackin’ on each other, or the having horrible parents thing, but it turns out they get along really well. A little too well, as Chimney often likes to complain about. He calls it a Buckley-Han recipe for disaster.

Wanna meet up for pool later tonight?

Can’t. It’s movie night with Eddie and Chris.

The blinking ellipses begin immediately after his last text is sent. Buck rolls his eyes in anticipation. He knows exactly what Albert is going to say.

Have fun with your looover.

Fuck off. He’s not my lover.

But you want him to be ;-)

Buck scowls at his phone before turning the screen off. His loud, frustrated groan echoes throughout his empty apartment. Damn high ceilings. While it’s nice to have someone to complain about being completely head over heels for his best friend, it also sucks to be reminded constantly that his love life is hopeless and helpless and, in Chim’s words… embarrassingly tragic.

“Movie night,” Buck mutters to himself, mentally preparing for an evening of kid-friendly movies, lots of popcorn, and being in painfully close proximity to the man he’s desperately in love with. “Completely platonic movie night.”

…

In between their last film and Chris’s bedtime, which the kid managed to convince his dad to push back—“But it’s not a school night, Dad!” And like most people who have met Christopher Diaz, Eddie has trouble saying no to his kid too—Buck finds himself seated on the living room floor, a jumbo Lego set spilled all around him. He spends the next thirty minutes sticking pieces together with his best friend’s son.

“What is that?” Chris asks, tilting his head in confusion at the multi-colored lump in Buck’s hands. It’s all sharp angles and weird shapes.

“I’m not sure, bud. I made it to match yours.”

Chris laughs loudly, head thrown back as he giggles. And Buck laughs too, open and free and so genuinely happy.

Several feet away from them, Eddie watches quietly, a soft smile on his face.

…

Eddie’s not much of a talkative guy, at least not compared to Buck. When they’re together though, Buck brings him out of his shell, and Eddie makes sure to keep Buck grounded. Chim and Hen joke that they ‘complete’ each other. Whatever that means.

The point is that Eddie has a shy side. And considering he’s about twelve years out of the dating game, he needs his best friend to help him out.

“I thought you said you needed a wingman?”

Eddie stubbornly looks up and glares at Buck. He’s nursing his third beer, which he’d been staring at with what Buck had described as ‘crazy eyes’. And he’s adamantly refused to look anywhere around the bar that they’re currently in.

Buck leans closer over their small table. “We’ve been here for an hour and you haven’t even made eye contact with anyone. What are you doing?”

“Look, I haven’t done this in a very long time, okay?!” Eddie hissed. “I was with Shannon for two years before I enlisted. Two tours later, and add a kid to the picture, I’m a little out of practice!”

Buck’s face softens and he seems to take pity on him.

“Well, if you would get out of your own head and take a look around, you’d notice that more than a few lovely ladies have been eying you up all night.” Buck pauses and adds, “A few guys, too. If you’re into that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls a face like Buck just told a joke. He misses the way Buck looks slightly dejected, just for a second, before his grin slides back into place.

“So what are you looking for then? Blonde? Brunette? Are you into any weird stuff ‘cause the chick with the sleeve tats over there looks like she likes to play with toys.”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head, finally looking around the room for the first time. “I want something… uncomplicated.”

“Uncomplicated like a quickie in the bathroom? I’ve been there, and would not recommend. Your back will be killing you the next day.”

“Just… something easy, no strings attached, never have to call them again…”

“A one-night stand?” Buck frowns and tilts his head curiously. “Sounds like my old kind of thing. I didn’t think it was yours.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s too hard to try for anything serious. I have Christopher to think about, and he needs one hundred percent of my attention. And I definitely can’t be bringing home random girls, hoping one of them is going to be Chris’s new mom.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Most would run away once they find out I’m a widowed veteran-father anyway. Talk about a flight risk.”

“Don’t be so negative about yourself,” Buck says, his voice low. “You’re a great guy, and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Eddie pauses at the sincerity in Buck’s voice. It’s sweet. And nice. But he shakes his head and the moment ends. “Alright, help me out here. I really don’t want to go home tonight to just my left hand for company. Who do you think I’ve got a chance with?”

Buck grins, a little mirthless. “The girl in the red top, drinking a Long Island at the bar.” He raises an eyebrow and nods in her direction. “She’s with a group of friends, but she’s not been chatty. She keeps looking around the room like she’s looking for someone.”

Eddie turns and to his surprise, he makes eye contact. She’s attractive, probably mid to late twenties, with brown hair and blue eyes. Three solid seconds pass before she grins flirtatiously, bats her eyes, and looks away.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Buck murmurs.

Eddie finishes off his beer. The bitter taste lingers and settles in his mouth, giving him an odd sense of confidence as he stands. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Buck says softly.

Eddie slides against the bar next to the girl in the red top. He grins, friendly but not over the top. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she answers with a bright smile.

Eddie waves over the bartender. “Hi, can I get an IPA and another of what she’s having? Oh, and one more beer for my friend—” He turns his head, about to point to Buck when his eyes land on their empty table. Buck’s jacket is gone too.

He must have left.

“Um, nevermind about that last one. Thanks.”

…

Evan Buckley has been in love with his best friend for over two years. It’s painful, that they can be so close and yet he sometimes feels a million miles away. “I can’t get him out of my head, Mads. I think about him all the time and it’s so fucking distracting.”

“Dude, I work with you guys,” Chimney says slowly. “In a very dangerous line of work.”

Buck scowls as Maddie slaps her boyfriend’s arm. “I came over here to talk to my sister. Do you really have to be a part of the conversation?”

“I was here first!”

“Hm, yeah sorry,” Buck frowns and shakes his head. “I think I’ve got about twenty-six years on you in that department.”

“Stop fighting, children, please!”

Buck continues to mope on the couch while Chim shakes his head and helps himself to snacks on the coffee table. The crunch of chips between his teeth clashes harshly with the constant thump of Buck’s knee bouncing against the underside of the table.

“Look, Evan,” Maddie says carefully. “I think you really need to tell Eddie how you feel.”

“Why? What’s the point?” Buck demands. “So that he can reject me nicely? Let me down easy, maybe? Best case scenario, he says that nothing’s ever going to change between us and then he acts all weird and awkward because he knows that his best friend—who is a guy—is fucking in love with him!”

Maddie reaches over and grabs her brother’s hand to hold. Even Chim’s eyes are downcast, looking like he feels a bit bad for him.

“You have to tell him, so that you can start to get over him,” Maddie says softly. “So that you can move on.”

“Maddie’s right,” Chim chimes in. “Rejection is the first step. If Tatiana hadn’t rejected me, I’d probably still be in that awful facade of a relationship. I never would have found the most wonderful and amazing person that I was meant to be with.”

Maddie grins softly at him. She leans over and they share a sweet kiss.

“Ugh,” Buck pulls a face and looks away. “Gross. That’s it, I can’t take any more of this. I’m out of here.”

“Evan, you don’t have to go!” Maddie says.

At the same time that Chim says, “See ya tomorrow, Buck.” He shrugs when they both give him a look. “What? I spend all day with the guy, I gotta see him at home, too?”

“Love you too, Chim,” Buck says sarcastically.

“He’s family,” Maddie says sternly.

“Hey, speaking of, where’s Albert?” Buck asks.

“Probably hooking up with rando hot girl number thirty.”

“Huh.” Buck pulls out his phone and hums. He says his goodbyes and leaves his sister and Chimney to do… whatever old, happy couples do on a Wednesday night.

Where you at?

A minute later, Albert responds. Some bar on West 23rd St. Wanna join?

Not feeling up to it. Wanna come over and hang instead?

Sure. Albert says. And then another text. I’ll be over in an hour.

…

It’s the middle of their shift and things are slow, which is never something to complain about. Eddie regales a tale about the latest girl he hooked up with. There have been a few girls since that night at the bar, and Eddie never shies away from telling Buck. Nothing too lewd. Just the highlights.

Buck nods and hums in response. His attention, however, is glued to his phone, where his thumbs rapidly fly across the screen as he texts. He plasters a lopsided grin on his face for show.

“I’m sorry, is my story about my foray back into the dating scene for the first time in over a decade too boring for you?”

Buck’s eyes snap up and he grins apologetically. He quickly slips his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry! I was listening, I swear!”

Eddie doesn’t buy it for one second.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Buck says quickly. See, he was listening. “You sealed the deal, right?”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah. It was alright. Not exactly a night of passion.”

“Better luck next time. Plenty more one-night fish in the sea, am I right?”

Eddie frowns, figuring Buck is right. He puts his mediocre night out of his mind. Buck looks like he’s itching to check his phone again. And then Eddie suddenly wonders what’s got his friend so distracted lately. “Hey, what was that just now? You’ve been glued to your phone the whole day. What is going on with you?”

Buck blushes and actually looks embarrassed, a rare sight. “I uh—I met someone,” he says bashfully.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Wow, um, congrats, dude. You haven’t mentioned getting back out there or anything.”

“Yeah, well. I figured it was time. It’s been a year since Ali…”

Eddie frowns and tries to be happy for him. But the only thing he can think is, “Is it serious?”

Buck grins softly. “It might be. Too early to tell, you know? But I think I want it to be.”

Eddie nods. An uncomfortable feeling rolls around in the pit of his stomach. He must have eaten something at lunch that doesn’t agree with him. He brushes it aside. “What’s her name?”

Buck hesitates. “His name is… Tom.”

Whatever Eddie ate for lunch might be threatening to come back up again.

…

“How could he not tell me? I mean, how could he not tell me?! We’re best friends, this is the type of thing that you tell your best friend!” Eddie gestures wildly with his arms as he speaks.

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Hen takes a drink of her cocktail and narrowly avoids being hit accidentally by Eddie’s flailing hands. “It’s not like he outright lied to you.”

“Not telling me that he’s into guys isn’t lying to me?”

“He’s dated one girl in the two plus years that you’ve known him. So he omitted one small fact about himself, so what? There are people who like both, you know.”

Eddie scoffs, incredulous. “Yeah, but Buck?!”

Hen gives him a pointed look and Eddie sighs. “I just… I don’t get why didn’t he tell me sooner.” He says softly.

“Please. You are not about to ask a lesbian why Buck didn’t out himself to you sooner. And you are definitely not having an issue with the fact itself, right?”

“Of course not,” Eddie says firmly. He might have grown up in a homophobic town in Texas, but that was never him. He stood up for the kids who got bullied growing up. He would never hate Buck for being gay, bi, pan, or whatever he labels himself. He would never hate anyone for that.

He just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. Why didn’t Buck tell him sooner? Why does it feel like such a painful and devastating betrayal, knowing that Buck met someone and they ‘might’ be getting serious?

“Wait,” Eddie freezes. “Hang on. Why aren’t you more surprised by this?”

Hen chuckles. “We have… a type of radar. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” She finishes her drink and laughs to herself. “From the second I laid eyes on that boy, I could tell he was a womanizer and a playboy. But let me tell you, that bitch also looks like he is two clicks away from calling the first man to pull his hair Daddy.” She cackles loudly, unaware that Eddie is struggling not to choke on the air in his lungs.

…

Albert is really good at chess.

Apparently, he won some sort of big deal tournament in South Korea. He brushes it off like no big deal whenever Chimney brings it up.

“It’s about being able to predict your opponent's move before they’ve even thought of it. You need to be three steps ahead, always. And flexible enough to adjust your strategy to the evolving game.”

Buck frowns. “That sounds really complicated. And hard.”

“I can teach you. Have you ever heard of game theory?”

“Dude, I told you I wasn’t the best in school,” Buck groans.

“Game theory is recognized as an important tool in many fields. It’s won Nobel prizes,” Albert says seriously.

Buck’s head spins from the nerd talk. “The only thing I care about, is will this even work?”

“Trust me,” Albert smiles, young and soft and genuine. “With my help, it will work.”

…

“Hi, Buck!”

Buck grins at Christopher’s excitement and quickly shoves two bags of take-out into Eddie’s hands so that he can kneel down and give Chris a hug. “Hi, buddy, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Buck!”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been over in a while. I’ve been busy.” His brow furrows, regretful, and he sneaks a quick glance at Eddie, who wears an unreadable expression while he tries to balance the bags Buck had pushed into his arms.

“That’s okay, you’re here now.” And with that, Chris takes Buck by the hand and leads him over to the couch.

Clearly, it’s now Eddie’s responsibility to handle the food.

After dinner, Buck helps Eddie with the dishes, while Chris is engrossed by a movie in the living room.

“So I was thinking maybe you could spend the night?” Eddie says, as he rinses a dirty dish under the tap. “We can do breakfast tomorrow morning at the diner on Stratton, the one that Chris likes. And I was going to take him to the park afterwards, you know he loves having you there.”

Buck is silent for a moment, just long enough that Eddie stops and looks up from what he’s doing.

“I um… I actually have plans later tonight.”

“Oh,” Eddie says dumbly. Out the corner of his eye, the clock on the oven blinks 8:11 PM. “What kind of plans?” He asks casually.

Buck blushes and drops his gaze. “Tom’s coming over.” A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I don’t think you want any details beyond that.”

Eddie purses his lips and returns his attention to the dishes. He doesn’t want to think about Buck and Tom, the latter is just a faceless shadow in his mind. But one with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw.

Nope, he does not need any more details.

“Maybe I could still join you guys at the park though?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters, as he scrubs a plate with far more force than necessary. “I’m sure Chris would love that.”

…

Eddie isn’t as great at hiding his emotions as he would like to believe. Maybe once upon a time he got away with it, but over the past two years, the 118 has become family to him. And families pry. They get into each other’s business, with good intentions, of course.

“Rough night?”

Eddie looks up and sees his Captain’s concerned face watching him. “Uh, sort of, Cap. I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admits. “Kind of have a lot on my mind right now. But I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s not affecting my work.”

Bobby takes a seat in the chair next to him. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately. Is everything alright at home?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” Eddie says carefully. “Christopher is doing well and he’s loving his classes at school. Everything’s great, Cap.”

The words taste like ash and sound fake to his own ears.

“Listen, it’s my job to know when something is wrong with my team,” Bobby says seriously. “And you’ve been off for weeks now. Is there… is there something going on between you and Buck that I should know about?”

“No! No, of course not!” Eddie says, a little too quickly. “I mean… Okay, honestly, Buck hasn’t been around much lately—” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Since he’s been seeing someone and… Chris has been asking why he hasn’t been around as much, and I know that he misses him.” He sighs and runs his hands through his short hair. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”

Bobby gives him a strange look, like maybe he’s being a bit slow. “Have you tried… talking to Buck about this? I’m sure Buck is more than happy to make time for you guys. You’re family to him.”

Eddie blinks, oblivious. “No. Why would I?”

“Because it might solve all your problems.”

Eddie snorts. That doesn’t quite compute.

Bobby pats him on the shoulder and gives him a sad, knowing glance. He wonders how long it’s going to take for Eddie to admit to himself that it’s not just Chris who misses Buck.

…

“Eddie, h-hey, what’s up?”

Eddie grins. Buck’s voice is breathy like he’s just gone on a run, or been going hard at the gym. It’s a sound that Eddie associates with a bad call that ends well because they saved the day. Out of breath and gasping, but still with a grin plastered across his face so bright it could light up a room.

“What’s going on?” Comes Buck’s concerned voice over the line when Eddie doesn’t answer. “Is everything okay? Is Christopher alright?”

Eddie closes his eyes and tries to get himself out of his own head. He’s been having trouble thinking straight lately. “Yeah. Yeah man, everything’s fine. Just wondering what you’re up to tonight? Chris is having some friends over and I could use another pair of eyes on them. You know I hate being outnumbered,” he chuckles.

“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t,” Buck says, and then there’s a rush of air into the phone before he continues, “I uh… I think I’m staying in tonight.”

Eddie frowns. Something doesn’t sound quite right. He narrows his eyes and presses the phone closer to his ear. There’s rustling in the background, like something is going on over Buck’s end. “Come on, dude,” he presses. “We haven’t hung out outside of work in like two weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” Buck drawls. “You’re hopeless without me.”

Eddie is about to say something snarky in return when he hears a muffled sound in the background, right before Buck grunts softly into his ear.

His hand tightens on his phone. “Buck?”

“W-what?” Buck sounds distracted, and then the clear sound of a backboard squeaking rhythmically tells Eddie all he needs to know. “Eddie, I gotta go,” he says breathlessly. His voice is cut off by commotion on his end of the line.

Eddie winces when he hears the clear clatter of Buck’s phone dropping to the ground.

“Shit, I dropped my phone!”

Muffled noises and heavy moans drift over the line. Warmth floods his body and Eddie feels his face flush red. It’s suddenly very hard to breathe. He should hang up. He should pretend this call never happened. He really, really should not stay on the line listening to his best friend having sex with another man.

“Oh, fuck, harder—”

Eddie closes his eyes. Buck’s face in high definition lights up in his mind, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed, and maybe he bites down on his bottom lip as he gets fucked—

What the hell is he doing? Thinking about Buck’s red lips and how it’s so adorable that his birthmark is the same shade as that luscious mouth—

Eddie considers hanging up yet again.

But the grunts and moans and sounds of pleasure are getting louder. And he’s suddenly so fucking hard.

“Fuck! Come on, give me more, right there—”

His hand is reaching down his pants and wrapping around his hard cock before Eddie even realizes it. He jerks himself roughly as he listens to the sound of Buck’s voice.

He’s never come so fast in his life.

…

“Hey Chim, how’s it going with Albert?” Eddie asks. “You guys getting along any better?”

Chimney frowns and glances over at the bar where Albert, Buck, and Hen are sharing a laugh over drinks.

“They are getting along wonderfully,” Maddie answers for him.

“Well, he’s family,” Chim manages, shaking his head.

Eddie chuckles and his eyes can’t help but land on Buck and stay there.

Of course, they never mentioned the call, instead both chose to act like the whole thing never happened. Maybe Buck didn’t realize that it was blatantly obvious what he was doing when Eddie called, and maybe he didn’t realize that Eddie stayed on the line, blowing a load over him, like a goddamn creep.

The next day, he just smiled and clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder like nothing was wrong. Nevermind that Eddie’s whole world was crashing around him because he got himself off to his best friend being fucked by another guy. And the orgasm he had over Buck’s voice was more intense than any he’d had with the random women he’d slept with over the past month.

He can’t even remember their names.

So lost in thought, he doesn’t realize that Maddie and Chim are giving each other smirks and looks while he’s distracted.

“What’s going on with you, Mr. Mopey?” Chimney asks.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, confused.

“Come on, you’ve been acting off for weeks,” Chim says while Maddie tries to hide a laugh. “Everyone’s noticed. Just admit it.”

“Admit what?” Eddie genuinely has no idea what he’s talking about.

“You can’t possibly be that thick,” Chim says slowly.

Maddie pats him on the shoulder. “Babe, don’t push it.”

“Oh, come on! Even Albert won’t stop talking about it—”

Eddie never finds out what it is because they’re interrupted by the presence of none other than the man who is the star of his wet dreams.

“What’s up, guys?” Buck’s grin is a mile wide and he’s just loose enough from a few drinks that he’s extra handsy. And he’s pretty handsy with Eddie on a regular day.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat as his skin hyper focuses on Buck’s arm around his shoulders. He quickly takes another drink of his beer so that he doesn’t have to answer.

And then he spends the rest of the night hoping and praying that his jeans are tight enough to hide the obvious erection in his pants.

…

Eddie thinks it can’t possibly get any worse. He’s wrong.

Weeks of blue balls and pining leave him in a near constant bad mood. Even Chris has noticed that he’s been snappier than usual—which of course, makes him feel like an asshole.

Buck hasn’t mentioned anything, though everyone else seems to be avoiding him like the plague.

And then during one of their shifts, twenty minutes after Eddie texts Buck to confirm his pizza topping of choice for lunch, he receives a photo to their text message chain. He thinks he’s hallucinating when the little icon image pops up on his screen.

But then he opens the image and his eyes bulge wide out of their sockets.

Buck is shirtless. It’s not like Eddie hasn’t seen the guy naked before. After all, they’ve spent plenty of time together in the showers and locker room at the firehouse. It’s the look on his face that gets him. The angle is taken from above. It’s meant to be sexual. Buck is biting his lip, head tilted back, a look of absolute sin gracing his handsome features. Eddie has never thought of his friend as pretty before, but god damn, Buck is pretty.

And as Eddie’s eyes trail down Buck’s chest, down his chiseled abs, they travel over the gorgeous V of his hip bones, to just past the base of his shaft, the rest cut off by his boxer briefs pulled down by the hook of his thumb.

The picture was clearly meant for something else.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He’s torn between confronting Buck about this egregious error that he made and running into the bathroom to jerk off.

In hindsight, the latter would have been better. After all, with post-nut clarity, he never would have done what he actually did, which is yell at Buck, in front of the whole firehouse.

“What the actual fuck?!”

Buck gapes at the lewd image on his phone, when shoved in his face. “I—I am so sorry, Eddie!” He stutters, red with embarrassment. “I did not mean to send that to you! I—I didn’t check the chain, and I had forgotten that you texted me your order—”

“You think I want to be getting shit like this on my phone?” Eddie rages. “Be more fucking careful next time you send shit like this to your boyfriend, or whoever the hell he is!”

Buck looks hurt. “Sorry, man,” he says softly. “It won’t happen again.”

Head bowed, Buck walks away with his tail tucked between his legs, leaving Eddie feeling like the biggest asshole on the face of this earth.

It doesn’t help that their little squabble had gained an audience.

Eddies groans and clenches his fists by his sides. He fights the urge to smash his phone to pieces.

He never does delete that photo.

…

Eddie’s not sure how they got to this point. Their friends pity them and Bobby has personally demanded that they resolve their differences. Fast. Or they won’t be covering the same shifts anymore. And now Buck is mad and wanting answers.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you, Buck.”

“You haven’t looked at me in days. If this is still about the pic that I accidentally sent you—”

“No!” Eddie says loudly. “No, it’s not about that. I am definitely way past that.”

Buck pauses and stares at him in disbelief. “Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie swallows thickly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“You’ve been acting like a real dick lately,” Buck says blatantly. “If you have a problem with me, you should just say it.”

Eddie bites his tongue. “Nope. No problem at all.”

Buck grits his teeth and storms away. And that’s that.

…

Not too long later, Eddie reaches his breaking point.

“Alright, fine! Maybe I am pissed at you!” Eddie gives in to the weeks of loneliness and sexual frustration and yells at his friend. “I’m pissed that you haven’t been around! And when you are, you’re distracted and distant and all you talk about is this Tom fella—”

“My boyfriend?”

“Whatever!” Eddie says. “Fuck!”

He knows he’s being a Grade A asshole, but he can’t help himself. Buck drives him crazy and he has no idea how to stop it.

A long moment passes before Buck speaks, “Well, not to get your hopes up or anything,” he says softly. “But this Tom thing might not last much longer.”

Eddie’s curiosity is piqued. Despite knowing better, he asks, “What’s going on?”

Buck shrugs uncomfortably. “I think we just want different things. Probably not going to work out in the long run.”

“And… what do you want?”

Buck looks at him and for a second Eddie gets lost in the blue of his eyes. “I want something real, you know? And I thought that’s what he wanted too, but… he wants to keep it open. Keep seeing other people.” He sighs heavily, sounding sad and defeated. “Which I was fine with for a while, but… I kind of thought he’d change his mind eventually.”

Buck shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You don’t want to hear about this—”

“Tom’s a fucking asshole,” Eddie spits.

Buck blinks in surprise. “W-what?” He chuckles softly.

“You heard me. He’s a fucking asshole. I’ll kick his ass if I ever meet him.”

Buck stares at him for a long moment. And then his face breaks into a grin. “Thanks, Eddie. You’re a good friend.”

Eddie nods. For the first time in a long time, he does feel like a good friend. Because he would absolutely kick anyone’s ass who hurt Buck.

…

Things between them get better after that.

And one evening, after the end of a long shift, Eddie and Buck get good and truly hammered.

It’s been a long time since Eddie had drank that much. But they don’t have to work the next day, Chris is sleeping over at Abuela’s, and him and Buck are friends again. So he lets loose and just goes along with whatever Buck wants. And Buck leans very much into his personal space in his drunk and disorderly state.

Eddie doesn’t mind one bit. Like an idiot, he doesn’t push him away.

He misses the laughs and doesn’t catch the mild looks of judgment and concern from Hen and Chim, because he’s too drunk to care. And when Albert keeps pushing tequila shots their way, he giggles and throws them back with Buck because it finally feels like they’re them again. And he’s really missed this.

…

The pillow that smacks him in the face wakes him up fast. With a startled gasp, Eddie blinks the sleep and haze out of his eyes. The first thing he registers is his throbbing headache. “What the hell—” The second is the pillow that hits him again before he can do anything more than blink dumbly in surprise. And then he’s pissed. “What the fuck, Buck?!”

“Stop that!” Eddie grabs the pillow before the other man can hit him again. “This is not exactly the morning after I was hoping for!”

“What exactly were you hoping for?! What the hell, Eddie?! We had sex last night! TOGETHER!” Buck’s voice gets higher until he’s nearly screeching, which is not great for either of their hangovers. He seems to suddenly realize he’s naked because he pulls the covers up tighter around himself as if it might preserve his chastity. A bit late for that, Eddie thinks.

“You… asshole! What the hell?!”

Eddie rubs the residual fog out of his eyes and stares at him. “You told Chim last night that you would give your left nut to suck my dick, so what the hell are you complaining about?” He smirks and nods at the shocked expression on Buck’s face. “Yeah, apparently, you get reeeal chatty when you’ve had tequila.”

“Chim said what?” Buck whispers softly, looking mildly shell-shocked and like he really wants to bury himself in the earth and never come out again.

“Oh, and by the way, I am way hotter than that guy you were flirting with at the bar,” Eddie growls, indignant and affronted. “If you want to know regret, know that you could have woken up next to that!”

“He—he was perfectly fine looking,” Buck stutters.

At the same time that Eddie hisses, “Man-bun.”

“And more importantly,” Buck continues harshly. “Since when do you sleep with guys?”

“Since last night, apparently,” Eddie says steely, not nearly as mortified and shocked as he should be. He adds, “And it was really great. Morning after could use some work though.”

Buck swallows. “I never thought… I never thought you were interested.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie lies. He takes a breath, counts to three in his head, and on a whim and a prayer, he reaches for Buck and crashes their lips together with such force that they nearly topple over.

They’re all awkward limbs and gross tequila morning breath—and yet, they seem to fit together perfectly in each other’s arms. They fall back onto Buck’s sheets. A mess of gangly limbs, dried bodily fluids, and lips desperate to feel more.

Perfect.

…

If anyone were to ask what this thing is between him and Buck, Eddie would say that it’s casual. That’s the word he likes to use when he thinks of them. They’re sleeping together and it’s good and hot and mindblowing sex. But it’s also easy. Because Buck is uncomplicated, and he’s there again when Chris wants him. He loves Christopher, Eddie has no doubt about that. And most importantly, Eddie can get laid whenever he wants.

“Hey, so I was thinking about asking Carla to stay late this Friday to watch Chris,” Buck brings up to him one night. “Maybe you and I can go out to dinner after our shift. We could go some place nice. That new restaurant on Main St. maybe.”

Eddie follows his first instinct which is to laugh, because it sounds like Buck just suggested that they go out on a date. The look on Buck’s face says that he made a mistake.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Eddie asks after seeing the dejected look on Buck’s face.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Buck’s voice is low and strange.

“Because that… that sounds like a date,” Eddie says incredulously. “That’s not what you and I do. We don’t go to nice restaurants, we’re not—”

“A couple?” Buck cuts him off roughly. His expression has grown hard. “So what exactly are we?”

It’s a rare moment when Eddie is at a loss for words, but right now they seem to be stuck in his throat and he has no idea what to say.

“What exactly is this to you, Eddie?” Buck asks slowly.

“We’re just… good friends helping each other out,” he manages.

“Friends?” Buck demands, eyes narrowed and furious. “I’ve sucked your cock, I think we’re a little beyond friends, Eddie.”

“Jesus, Buck! Keep your voice down!” Eddie hisses, even though Chris’s room is on the other end of the house and he’s probably fast asleep at this hour.

But now Buck just looks defeated and hurt, and it’s the last thing that Eddie wanted.

“I thought this meant more to you,” Buck says quietly. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Look, Buck,” Eddie starts. “You know I love you, man. Just… just not like that. I can’t do that.”

Buck scoffs and looks away, which makes Eddie feel worse.

“I told you, a long time ago, that I’m not looking for anything serious, with anyone. It’s… it’s not you, Buck. It’s just that, I have a son to think about.” It makes sense in his head. It’s not like he’s sleeping with anyone else. He just needs to make Buck see.

“Okay.”

Eddie blinks. Okay? “Yeah?”

Buck nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. He slowly turns away, looking lost for a moment, before turning back, eyes glazed and hurt and unseeing. “I’m gonna go.” He says, pointing a thumb behind him. He starts gathering his things to leave and Eddie’s heart sinks into his gut. It hurts like there’s a knife buried there, twisting.

“Wait, no,” Eddie says desperately. “Buck, don’t leave—” He reaches for him but Buck snatches his arm away before Eddie can make contact. Somehow that stings more than when Shannon asked for a divorse.

Buck is adamant about avoiding eye contact, or any type of contact at all.

He’s hurt. And Eddie hates that this time, he was the one to do it.

“I’ll see you later, man,” Buck mutters, and then he’s gone.

Eddie stands, alone in his kitchen, feeling more lost than ever before.

…

Hen, bless her soul, is the first to pull him aside and demand to know how he managed to fuck up such a sure, good thing.

“What kind of moron are you?” She asks after she listens to his side of the story.

“W-what?” Eddie sputters helplessly. “This isn’t my fault.”

“You are both miserable,” she says bluntly. “Why?!”

Eddie sighs heavily and agrees. “Buck looked like he was about to dry heave when I stepped into the station today,” he says sadly.

“You are dumber than a bag of rocks. Eddie Diaz, I’m going to say this once and only once. You. Love. Him.” She says, enunciating each word.

“Of course, I love him,” Eddie responds. “He’s my closest friend. He’s Buck. I trust him with everything—”

“No, you dumbass. I mean, you love him. He’s not just some rando hookup you picked up for a night. He’s not just a friend, he’s Buck, the guy who would rather die than see anything bad happen to you or your son. He’s the guy who loves your kid like his own. And, speaking as a mother, that is not something to be said lightly.”

“I know Buck loves Chris,” Eddie says softly. “And I never asked him to, he just…” His voice trails off, as the realization slowly dawns on him.

Hen raises a brow. “Let me ask you a question,” she says slowly. “Why did you stop looking for girls to sleep with? You stopped long before you and Buck started this thing between you two. So why? Why did you stop?”

“I…” Fuck. Eddie remembers the longing that he felt when Buck was with someone else. He remembers how much it hurt. Like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. “Anyone else just… wasn’t what I wanted,” he realizes.

“So what are you waiting for now, dummy?”

“I’m scared,” Eddie admits. “I thought that it would be too difficult or too complicated, or whatever dumb shit I was thinking at the time. I thought it wasn’t worth the risk. To me and to my son.”

“And is it?” Hen asks softly.

Eddie bites his lip. “If this goes sideways, I don’t know what it’ll do to Christopher. That kid has lost so much already. And he loves Buck to death, if this doesn’t work out—”

“Kids are a lot tougher than we like to give them credit for. I’m saying this from one parent to another. You can’t let that hold you back. You can’t let it stop you from going after what you really want. Trust me, Chris will understand. He probably already knows you’re head over heads for his Buck.”

Eddie laughs and bows his head. “Yeah, probably. I never did hide it very well, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Hen agrees.

“I think I was wrong,” Eddie finally whispers.

Hen’s fingers flex around his forearm, offering what comfort she can. “Are you done being an idiot yet?”

Eddie considers it. “Yeah, I think so. I just gotta clear it with one more person,” he says softly.

…

His son is the most important person in his life. Eddie has so much to make up for. He was away for so long and he missed so much. And he vowed that he would never let Christopher down again.

But he has. Of course he has, he’s only human. But he keeps trying and he never gives up. And he figures that’s got to count for something.

For over two years, Eddie watched the relationship blossom between Buck and Chris. He watched as Buck doted on his kid, took him under his wing, and not long after, he started loving him.

Eddie now includes Buck’s name on his list of emergency contacts.

It took a little while longer, but eventually Eddie realizes that Chris looks up to Buck like another parent.

The moment really came when he peeks into Chris’s bedroom and sees Buck reading his son a bedtime story, one of Christopher’s favorites. Chris insists every night that Buck is there. Buck does the voices better than Eddie.

There they are, side by side. Chris’s eyes are drooping, no longer focused on the page. Buck’s voice is still animated and excited, though getting softer by the minute. And the look on his face, Eddies loves that look. Eddie loves him.

It’s a terrifying thought.

It catches him off guard. It scares him. Chris already lost one parent. Eddie couldn’t bear his son losing another. So he kept Buck at a distance. Tried to draw a line between what he had with Buck and what they had as a family.

Hen was right, he was a goddamn moron.

Buck was family long before he and Eddie got wasted and fell into bed with each other.

“Hey, kiddo,” Eddie kneels down by his son where he’s playing with his toys in the living room.

“Hi, Dad.”

Chris’s grin warms his heart and Eddie can’t help but smile as well. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

Eddie smiles at his kid, the shining epitome love of his life. “I want to talk to you about Buck.”

Chris’s grin grows wider. “I like Buck. Is he coming over tonight?”

“I like Buck, too.” Eddie says carefully. “So you… you like it when Buck is here?”

“Yeah, Buck is fun. And he loves me.”

“He sure does. Who wouldn’t love you, kiddo?” Eddie jokes.

“No,” Chris shakes his head. “Buck is special.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And why is that?”

“Because you love him, Dad.”

Eddie freezes. He closes his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat. “Chris, how… how did you know that?” He whispers.

“The way you look at him,” Chris says easily. “And the way you act around him.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie presses.

“When Buck was hurt, you were really worried,” Chris explains. “You were sad and you were upset, and you would do everything you could to make him feel better. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Eddie says softly. When Buck got crushed by a ladder truck, there were moments when Eddie thought he was going to lose him forever. He was scared—terrified. Not just for Buck’s health and safety, but he was scared that his life could forever be changed because some asshole kid decided to play bomber.

And when Buck almost died from the pulmonary embolism, because he pushed himself too hard—that made Eddie angry. Angry that Buck risked his life and his health and did this to himself. And maybe if Eddie had tried harder to be there for him, Buck wouldn’t have felt the need to get back to where he was so quickly.

Apparently, Eddie didn’t hide this very well.

“When Buck’s not here, you’re sad,” Chris says softly. “When he’s here, you’re happy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. Kids make it sound so simple. He has a hard time remembering why he’s been acting like an idiot for so long. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So you love him,” Chris says simply.

“I do,” Eddie says quietly, tears growing in his eyes. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am, Dad. Buck is amazing,” Chris says with a grin.

Eddie has never been so grateful that he has such an amazing kid. He still can’t believe he lucked out, that he has such a wonderful son. “Yeah,” he agrees, pulling him into a hug. Tears trail down his cheeks, but they’re happy tears. “Buck really is amazing.”

Chris smiles and lets out a soft laugh against him. “I love Buck, too, Dad.”

So, now Eddie has some groveling to do.

…

Buck isn’t surprised when he opens his door to see Eddie on the other side. He does huff in annoyance though. “What are you doing here?” He asks. They haven’t spoken since Buck walked out. Buck has avoided his calls and the texts go unanswered.

Eddie doesn’t answer at first. But he motions awkward with his arm and Buck eventually steps back to let him in.

“Look, I really don’t want to do this with you, Eddie—”

“Of course, you don’t,” Eddie says quickly. “We were always awful when we’re mad at each other. Over such dumb shit too.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Buck gives him an odd look. “Am I just supposed to get over it? I mean, I’ve had your dick up my ass, are we just supposed to pretend that never happened?”

Eddie blushes. “Yeah, that’s not really a memory I want to erase from existence, so…”

Buck stares at him, stubborn and calm. “So, what exactly are you saying?”

“What I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been acting like a royal idiot lately,” Eddie says. “I did pretty much everything wrong. I didn’t think that I wanted you until you were with someone else. And then when I did have you, I didn’t realize that what we had was so much more than I ever gave us credit for.”

Buck stays stubbornly silent. But he’s not kicking him out, which is enough to make Eddie continue. “I need you to know that I love you, and not just as a friend. I love you like a partner, like Chris’s second dad, like a missing piece of myself, and when you’re not there… it literally feels like my life is falling apart.”

His breath shudders and he sighs, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am so lost without you, Buck. And I was such an idiot that I didn’t realize it sooner. So, please… I am asking from the bottom of my heart… will you give me another chance?”

“I always knew you were an idiot,” Buck eventually says. “I don’t know where Chris gets his smarts from, because it definitely isn’t you.”

Eddie grins and takes a hesitant step forward. “Yeah, I deserve that,” he says softly, and then he takes another step. “You’re right, I was an idiot.”

“I’m gonna make you take me out, you know,” Buck whispers. “You’re gonna have to wine and dine me, and I mean, the good, expensive stuff.”

“Whatever you want, babe. I swear.” Eddie takes another final step and then he’s crowding into Buck’s space, pressing tight against his chest. He leans up to press their lips together and Buck’s got that look in his eyes that Eddie knows all too well. The look that says he’s in too deep, he loves too much, and if Eddie hurts him again, that’ll be the end of him.

But Eddie swears to high heaven, he’ll do his best to never ever hurt this man again.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been such an idiot,” Eddie murmurs against his lips.

“You swear you’ll stay with me this time?” Buck asks. “You’ll try this for real with me?”

Eddie nods. He presses their lips together, again and again, like he can’t get enough. His fingers are wrapped tight around the other man’s shirt, and he can tell Buck is holding himself back. He presses his weight against him, pushing him through the small apartment until they both fall against the couch—the stairs being too much to traverse in their state. The intense heat of their bodies together opens all the floodgates.

“I promise you, Buck. For real. You and me,” Eddie nods his head, his fingers fumble with Buck’s zipper, and then his own. “Like we should have been this whole goddamn time.”

When the clothes are off and skin is pressed to bare skin, they moan like starved men gasping for air. There’s lube somewhere in Buck’s coffee table drawer, and a box of condoms. Eddie presses his fingers into the hard flesh along Buck’s hips and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He sucks bruises into Buck’s skin, tastes him on his tongue and smells him in his nostrils. He can feel the other man’s pulse; strong, fast, and steady. He feels it rise and flutter as he moves inside him.

Their bodies grind together and the feeling is intoxicating; hot, sickly, and sweet. They’re reckless and dangerous and so in love that they’re sure nothing they’ve ever experienced even comes close to this.

They groan and pant and freefall toward climax together, limbs wrapped around each other, messy and uncoordinated. And when it’s over, Eddie presses his sweaty temple gently against Buck’s cheek. He’s gasping, struggling to catch his breath.

Buck chuckles softly, his hand comes up to wrap around Eddie’s arm. Their sounds echo through the apartment, a familiar comfort to them both.

“I’m hungry,” Buck says softly, before Eddie has even pulled out of him. “You wanna grab some food?”

Eddie grins and nods his head.

This feels good, he thinks to himself, better than anything he’s had before. And this time, he’s going to remember that.

…

Some time later:

“Chim, your brother is still here?” Eddie nods to Albert who’s engrossed in conversation with Buck by the bar. Eddie narrows his eyes at the serious look on Buck’s face. He wonders what they’re talking about.

Chimney gives him a strange look, perhaps surprised that he asked, and then he shrugs. “Yeah, thought he was staying a few weeks. Guess that’s turned into a few months now.”

“Couch-surfing for months, that’s got to be rough,” Eddie comments.

“My couch, random strange hook ups’ couches, Buck’s couch. That guy really knows how to get around.”

Eddie frowns. “Buck’s couch?” He knew Albert had stayed at Buck’s place once, after Chimney blew up at him. Not that it had happened again though.

Chim raises his eyebrows. “You don’t know? They hang out like… all the time. It’s fucking weird, man. If I didn’t know you and Buck got a serious thing going on, I’d be a little worried about Buckaroo over there taking my little brother’s innocence.”

Eddie gapes. “Are you serious?” His eyes fly around the bar again, not knowing what he thought he’d see. Buck and Albert look the same as they did twenty seconds ago, still talking by the bar.

“I’m kidding!” Chim says, laughing as he slaps Eddie on the arm. “Of course, I’m kidding!”

Eddie breathes in relief.

Until Chim continues, “My little brother doesn’t have an ounce of innocence inside him.”

Eddies doesn’t know how to approach this. He wants to know why he didn’t know—why Buck didn’t tell him that he was apparently close to Chimney’s estranged half-brother. He wants to go over there and find out what they’re talking about. How does he do that without coming across like some jealous asshole? His mind flips back and forth between playing it cool and storming over there.

Thankfully, Buck saves him the trouble.

He pulls him aside and looks hesitant when he speaks, which Eddie takes note of right away.

“Hey, can we talk about something real quick?” Buck asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie says carefully. “What’s going on?

“Um,” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “You know how I kind of made you grovel when you came back? And I kind of emphasized how you were a total dick, who needed to beg and plead before getting back into my pants?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah.” He remembers it vividly.

“Okay,” Buck admits. “So, I’m kind of an asshole.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Eddie chuckles.

“No,” Buck insists. “I actually am kind of a dick.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He clicks and swipes while Eddie watches confused until Buck holds the screen up in front of his face.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s looking at. It’s his contact info, with call data, and all their incoming and outgoing calls.

“Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

Eddie stares, blank and confused, until it dawns on him. He sees the call log. He sees the date and the numbers and there’s only one possibility. Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds that he stayed on the line. Listening. Like a perv.

“Um… I—I wasn’t—” He stutters. “I don’t know what—”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I knew you were listening,” Buck says quickly as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Um, I don’t really know how to tell you this, but… Tom wasn’t real.”

“What?” Eddie blinks and struggles to process. “Tom, your… ex-boyfriend?”

Buck looks genuinely shameful. “Yeah, he was… kind of, made up?” He says lightly.

Eddie’s mind sort of short-circuits then. Because what the hell does that mean? “W-what?!” He sputters.

“I’m sorry!” Buck says quickly. And then he rolls into a tangent that Eddie can only hope to follow as best his can. “It was Albert’s idea, ‘cause I was complaining about how much I was in love with you. And apparently, I talk about you a lot, like non-stop and he was getting sick of it. And I think I was moping and pissing him off because he just wanted a drinking buddy. And then he kept going on and on about behavior theory and logical decision making and all this other shit that I don’t really understand!”

Eddie blinks and Buck continues, “He told me what to do to get you and I just went along with it! He told me to invent some guy and it would make you realize what you wanted all along… And that if I threatened to pull away, you would realize that you love me and that this thing between us—” He gestures quickly with his hands. “—is real. And it worked!”

Buck shrugs, a small, hopeful expression on his face. “Except now I kind of feel like a dick because I made you feel bad, and he said that I should come clean about everything and that you wouldn’t mind because you love me too—”

“Wait, wait, wait… hold up,” Eddie’s mind hasn’t quite caught up yet. “You lied to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispers.

“Tom was… was a lie?” Eddie tries to think of the evidence. He never met the guy, never even saw a photo. Buck just kept talking about him… “But the call…”

“Yeah, I kind of had a bit of fun with that one,” Buck grins bashfully. “Our first phone sex!” He tries to joke, but it falls flat when he sees the look on Eddie’s face.

“You tricked me? You’ve been lying this whole time?”

“Well, I… I prefer to think of it as, I used dishonest tactics to persuade you…”

“The—the fucking… naked picture of you…” Eddie’s jaw drops as the pieces finally come together in his head. “You sent that to me on purpose!”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says softly.

“I cannot believe this! You—you inserted yourself into my life, lied to me for months, pull yourself away, and of course, I’m over here tweaking like an addict without dope! And feeling like the biggest jerk in the world!”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic, I think.”

“Where is that asshole?”

Buck’s eyes widen comically when he sees the other man prepare for a rampage. “Eddie, wait!”

But Eddie’s already making his way back to the group. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but he knows that he’s furious, embarrassed that he was played so easily, and completely blind-sided by the truth. He can’t even put his thoughts in order to make a coherent—

“Hey, asshole!”

All eyes turn to him, shocked by his outburst. Hen and Chim are clearly confused, unsure of what’s going on. A second later, he registers that Buck has caught up to him. The expression on his face is oddly reminiscent of Scrat from the Ice Age movies that Chris loves watching. Stunned, sheepish, and a little bit of ‘did I do that?’

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You think you can just mess with people’s heads like this?! You think you can just treat this shit like a game, like… like some fucking chess game?!”

“Eddie, stop!” Buck pleads.

“Whoa, wait, what the hell is going on?” Chim asks.

“You fucking piece of shit, I ought to—”

Albert stands slowly, his hands held up innocently in front of him. Eddie breathes slowly through his nose. He can feel Buck’s presence behind him, ready to hold him back in case he decides to do something royally stupid.

“I’m sorry if you feel fooled,” Albert says carefully. “We had no intention to hurt you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Behind him, the others stare, mouths gaping. “What is happening right now?” Maddie whispers.

“Eddie, please think about this,” Buck says softly. “Please—”

Eddie cuts him off by taking a step forward. They all hold their breaths. And then, to their surprise and his own, Eddie wraps his arms around Albert in a tight hug. “You are such an asshole.” His voice is tight and strangled. “But thank you.”

“Okay, can someone please explain what is going on?” Chim asks. “We’re kind of losing our minds over here.”

“I think we might need some more drinks for this,” Hen says, right before she and Maddie share a look.

“Amen, sister.”

Later, after everyone is caught up and thoroughly impressed—

“I studied game theory in college,” Albert explains.

“Glad to see you’re doing something good with that fancy education of yours,” Chim says sarcastically.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this,” Maddie says, incredulous. “Who knew you were such a good actor?” She smacks her little brother on the arm and chuckles at Buck’s yelp.

—and Buck and Eddie finally have a moment to themselves, Buck asks him, “So I can relax and trust that you’re not going to kick his ass?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head. “I wanted to.”

“You had me worried there for a second.”

“Albert’s genius is what got me to stop being an idiot,” Eddie says softly. “He got us together, and you are the love of my life. I could never hate him for that.”

Buck makes a face, about to coo and aww at the ‘love of his life’ comment until Eddie continues. “You, on the other hand, you lied to me. For months. You manipulated me, made me feel like an asshole for hurting you. And this whole time, you were playing me. I think I’m owed some groveling now.”

Buck pouts and says, “My feelings were never a lie. I’ve been in love with you for years and I was getting desperate. You know, desperate measures and all.” His lips turn up a little and he wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist, tugging him close. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. Please don’t be mad at me. After all, I am the love of your life.”

Eddie grins and leans close, pressing their lips together for a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, you really are.”

Fin.

#911 #911 Fox #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Buddie #Buddie fic #my fics #I loved writing this so much

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