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starsthoughtsonthings · 4 months ago

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"Warning" before the actual content: I do like to write, but I tend to only write one side of an interaction (I rp on another blog on here). - As I'm writing this down, I need to add, I feel like my writing is very very bad and un-emotional. Sorry. I've been writing for a long time - like I said, rp usually - but apparently that doesn't make me any good at it. I still needed to try writing something for them, because I love this character and I just have to try. I feel like I'm in no way capable of capturing any of the characters well, outside of my own Tav that is. I still wanted to try writing something because I need to somehow manage to express my love for this game more. I also know very little about DnD and its world and I just read through a few random search-engine-results on elven trance, which is all I'm basing this on.

This is supposed to take place while Kori (my Tav) and Astarion are in a relationship, and somewhere after the confession of his "nice, simple plan".

It has been another exhausting day. Nothing new, really, when there were so many urgent problems to deal with - both personal for anyone of the group, or more general like the cult and the Absolute - but even if it was common that the days ended with a lot of exhaustion, it didn't make it any easier. As usual, everyone sat together and chatted a little about the day as the group shared food and some drinks, often accompanied by bickering or teasing between everyone - all in all a very nice little routine for the end of each day of this adventure. Soon enough, it was getting late, and everyone retreated into their tents to rest in one form or another. Or, well, almost everyone did.

Kori had a feeling that someone was - again - not ready or willing to rest yet - perhaps only not yet, perhaps not at all, she hadn't been able to tell these last days because at some point she did need to close her eyes and rest to be ready for another day of adventuring, herself, and surely he was more than capable to just pretend to be fine even without any rest at all - but she didn't want to just watch him and wonder if he rested at all, tonight. For a little while longer, she stayed in her tent and watched him from here. Astarion was reading, as usual, some of these last nights she spotted him drinking or tending to his clothes or weapons, all perfectly normal activities of course, but it never looked like something he did to get more into the mindset for trancing. It always looked, felt, like he was actively trying to avoid taking any form of proper rest.

Having watched for long enough from within her tent, Kori got back up from her bedroll and walked over to the camp's vampire. He noticed her approach, of course, and the grin he offered her made her realize that perhaps her constant looking over towards him for multiple nights hadn't quite been as stealthily as she had thought she had been.

"Finally decided that staring isn't enough anymore, darling?", he greeted, and immediately, Kori felt a little blush creep to her cheeks. "It's not like that." Which somehow sounded like an excuse no matter how honest she meant it. "... Maybe it is, but, that's, not the point. I'm just..." She paused for a moment to make a better sentence for her concerns. "You're delaying your rest again, aren't you?" "You're an elf too. You know we don't need to lie down as much as the others do," he responded matter-of-fact-ly, but for once, Kori didn't buy that as all there was to it. "I know. But... I've seen you awake all the time. I don't see you rest at all, no matter how I time my rest." "Maybe I just happen to trance shorter than you need to, and do it at the same time as you." Kori leaned in closer, focusing on his eyes, trying to be able to determine... something. Perhaps whether he was exhausted or not, whether he was saying the truth, or if he had any rest - trance or sleep - at all during the last few days, or perhaps even during their whole adventure.

Apparently she had been looking for too long - again - because a chuckle brought her focus back out of his eyes. "Enjoying the view?" Flustered, Kori didn't immediately have anything ready to answer, and Astarion chuckled again. "If my battle prowess is what you're worried about, rest assured that I'm strong and clear enough to face any of our little battles." "It's not how good you do in battle that worries me." Which, she had to admit, if he was actually running on days (or more) without at least some form of rest, he was surprisingly good at doing his part in the fights the group ran into despite it. As long as she didn't go all out willing to exhaust her magic quickly, he was easily doing at least double the amount of damage to their enemies that she did. "I'm worried about you. Not resting at all is not good for you." Even after all they had already shared, after him opening up and confessing his initial plan, after her reassuring him that she still wanted to be with him; it still seemed to surprise him when she said that she cared - or worried, in this case - about him. For just a moment he was as if frozen from hearing it, and then he laughed, because of course he was going to play it down. "You're sweet, but you don't have to worry about me. You're already doing enough to keep me strong and well - or is that why you've come over?" It wasn't really the reason Kori had approached him, of course, but she also did not mind giving some of her blood when it helped someone important to her be strong. "Well, no, but, of course, you can feed on me tonight," he didn't directly ask to, of course, but she still understood. "But that's not it. Getting enough blood can't be enough alone." It didn't seem like he was willing to admit to it just because she'd ask again and again, so Kori decided to go a more direct route, as much as she'd rather not say it as directly. "In trance, we relive memories. I can't help but think, you're avoiding rest because the memories it brings you back into won't be pleasant ones." She didn't add more, not wanting - likely not needing - to point out what exactly non-pleasant memories she assumed it would bring to him everytime, and Astarion was silent for some moments too. "Just tell me honestly that you actually are resting, and I won't keep bugging you." There was still no answer, not immediately at least. He glanced away, a few times it seemed as if he was going to say something but then didn't, until he sighed. "You're right. Of course I avoid going back to that every single night." Then, quickly, came the usual reassuring, the facade of everything being good. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry so much, my dear."

They were silently standing there for a few moments, until Kori spoke up once more. "If trancing isn't something you want to do... have you considered trying to sleep instead?" "Sleep?" Astarion laughed, assuming it a joke until he realized Kori wasn't laughing along. "You're serious? Sleeping, like the others do, being completely unaware and vulnerable for so many hours?" "Yes," she nodded. "I like sleeping. I prefer it over trance, even. It's fascinating what strange and unusual things you can see or experience while doing it! It often doesn't make sense, but it's very wonderful and refreshing." He seemed curious, although clearly also very much doubting sleep was anything of a good idea. "Things like what?" "One time, I was flying through the sky freely. No limitations, no obstacles or anything that pulled me back down, I could just fly among the birds and brush the clouds," Kori remembered with a smile - it was one of her favourite dreams she had ever had. "Another time, I was in a land made entirely of sweets. The rivers were honey, the ground was made of cake, and it looked beautiful, too. I got myself to be part of stories I've read, too, almost as if they were existing as more than fiction within my mind for the night." She would probably be able to think about more examples, too, but figured these would be enough to name for a basic idea. "And you actually enjoy that nonsense?" He didn't sound exactly interested in trying it, but Kori wasn't going to stop trying yet. "Yes. It really is nice. It's like, briefly getting to experience something completely different, like a different life or something impossible even." After a brief pause, she added: "It wouldn't hurt if you tried it, yourself." "And leave myself an easy target for the whole night? No, thank you." "You know there is always someone keeping watch over our camp." Kori glanced over to the corner where the watch usually was sitting, right now it seemed it was Lae'zel's turn. "Oh, yes, because she totally would have noticed if, for example, one of our group snuck over to another to kill them, sitting all the way over there." "She would have. It's not like someone keeping watch doesn't notice when we move within camp, it's a matter of privacy that they only act if something's off." At least, that was how Kori understood watch to work like. It wouldn't make sense for the one holding the watch to come over to listen in on anyone that wanted to chat during nighttime. Now Astarion, too, briefly looked over to where Lae'zel was sitting for a moment, then shook his head. "It's not good enough, darling," he answered eventually, and it almost sounded like he was sad or disappointed that this was the end to entertaining the idea of sleep. "You have too big of a heart and trust everyone, of course you wouldn't mind knocking yourself out and being defenseless for hours during the night. I, however, would rather not risk to suddenly wake with a blade to my throat."

Of course, it made sense that he wasn't willing to try something that carries such a risk. With the kind of life he had, before this whole adventure, it's very understandable that he would refuse to take any risk like that. But if he also wasn't doing trance because it brought him back to that life... "How about if I keep watch over you while you sleep?" Kori suggested after a moment of thinking about it. "Right here, right next to you, to make sure nothing happens?" He clearly trusted her deeply, that much was clear from the talks they had before, so this was worth suggesting. Astarion seemed stunned by that suggestion, briefly. "I'm not going to send you tired and exhausted into the next day just because you insist I try sleeping." "I can always just trance instead. Stay aware of my surroundings, and so still be able to keep watch over you," she suggested quickly. Somehow, her attempt at convincing him to give it a try did enough to make him consider it, she could tell from the way he looked at her. Maybe he was also just so exhausted that he would be willing to try even as ridiculous an option as sleep might seem to him, that was possible too. He seemed to ponder something for a few moments, almost not wanting to speak up again, until he did. "How would it even work? I lie down, and... then what?" Since she had done it so often already, sleep didn't really feel like something one would need a how-to for, to Kori. But his question about it sounded honest, and she realized that not everyone might have it come as easily as she was used to. "Then... nothing, really. You let your thoughts drift, you try to think of nice things and to get calmer. And eventually, sleep will come." It didn't look like that explanation helped much, but Astarion sighed. "Very well," he relented. "I will try to sleep, since you are so insistent." He laid down in his tent and closed his eyes, while Kori sat on a cushion nearby. A few minutes passed, perhaps half an hour or so even. Kori kept her focus on Astarion, and she could see the point when he started to relax, likely started trying to let go of his thoughts and find sleep. He didn't yet look like he was sleeping, though, and after a while, he grimaced before he suddenly sat upright again. "It won't work," he said almost immediately, and Kori frowned at his words. "I can't just 'think of nice things'. I don't do that." He spoke maybe a hint faster than usual, a sign that his thoughts hadn't been going down a good route.

For a little bit, both were silent, Astarion probably expecting Kori to give up and leave him to it, while Kori was thinking about how to make it easier for him to find sleep. "We should lie down together," she said after a moment, only after having said it realizing how it might have sounded, and quickly getting flustered to the flirty smirk she got in return. "That eager to bed me again?" He asked teasingly, and Kori coughed to try to shake some of the flustered-ness, then did her best to sound serious even while still blushing furiously. "No, not like that! I told you I want to be with you without that, too. I mean just lying down together. Intimately, perhaps, but not like that." "A rather novel idea," he commented with a little smirk, but shifted to make some space, inviting Kori to join him. She moved in to lie next to him on his bed, and the two of them just lay next to each other for a little bit. Still flustered, Kori spoke up after a few moments. "It'll be of more use if we're closer, I think." Of course that wasn't said without her blush increasing, but she assumed just lying next to him wasn't going to make a difference in his thoughts. It needed to be more than that. Grinning, Astarion rolled onto his side to look at her. "And you're sure you're not hoping for something else here?" "Y-yes, I am sure." Incredibly flustered and very much enjoying being so close to him, yes, but Kori wasn't doing this with any other intention than to help him find some rest. She reached out for his hand, hesitating before taking it as if to silently ask if he was alright with it, then moving it towards herself and resting it together with her own hand on her chest, so he could feel her heartbeat. Hopefully, this would be as calming of a thing as she hoped, and not doing the opposite and perhaps alluring his hunger too much. She looked over to him, trying to figure out if she was as helping as she was trying to be. His breath caught for a moment, and he returned her look for a few moments in silence, before shifting closer to her. Perhaps it was her body warmth that he wanted, perhaps the intimacy, or maybe it was just about being so close to a beating heart. But whatever exactly it was, it did seem to work, Kori could tell from his breathing that he was starting to relax. "Now close your eyes. Try to sleep," she hummed softly, trying to keep her voice down to not pull him out of the calmness again. He did close his eyes, and Kori barely dared to keep breathing to not disturb him. After a few moments, Astarion let out a long sigh, and to Kori, it felt like he was finally letting go of a big tension, a big waryness, that he had been holding onto for... probably for all of his vampire-existence. He visibly relaxed more after that, and as the minutes passed, Kori smiled at Astarion next to her, seemingly finally able to rest again for once in who knows how long. "... Thank you, darling," he muttered in a half-asleep-voice, and Kori's smile widened as his breathing calmed down. Now all that was left for her to do was silently pray that he would find some good dreams, like he deserved. And of course trance eventually to make sure she was ready for the next day, but that was an afterthought, for now.

It was that night that he finally took a rest again.

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Notes:

Yes, there it is. As I said above, I don't think my writing is very good, so I'm surprised if you even came until here.

I don't know much about the DnD world or anything, but a few search results told me that elves' trance is mostly them reliving their memories, mostly focused on the more emotional ones, and I couldn't shake the thought of what his most emotional memories would be. Certainly not the few little adventures or battles the group did.

And before that I already decided that Kori prefer sleep over trance, and, what can I say, this was the only logical consequence to have as a situation. I wish I could write fluffier, more emotional, more touchy, but I guess it's just not how my writing style is. I don't know.

Yes, I know, somewhere in the dialogue I had her offer him to feed on her, and then I didn't actually write it happen before sleep. It just didn't fit in there, I don't know. Assume they just both forgot about it and will do it after sleep, or something, idk.

I also am aware that this whole thing doesn't really fit with, how at the end of each day, we see our companions, including Astarion, sleeping or trancing. But I had this idea, and I had to make it.

I'm also not a native english person, so if there's anything that isn't quite how one would commonly word it, that's probably because I simply don't know how it's usually said. I'd appreciate tips on things that sound too, I don't know, "unnatural" or whatever, but of course don't be mean or anything.

If it isn't obvious, I made Astarion's dialogue red, and Kori's dialogue green. Both based on their eye colors, I suppose.

I will try to not blabber as much as I did in this one before starting the actual text, but this is my first writing on here and I am just someone that tends to overexplain or try to justify myself or something. Like right now. Okay, I'm shutting myself up now.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #Astarion #MyTav: Kori #MyWriting #starsthoughts #About Kori

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darkmajesty-xo · 2 years ago

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soft awkward izuku fluff

izuku doesn't do this.

he doesn't like nightclubs, finding them too loud and crowded. with his line of work he's constantly on edge, so it's seeming impossible for him to "let go" in an environment like this.

he doesnt like hard liquor, preferring to sip a beer, or two, throughout the night because he'd always been a lightweight and he'd hate to ruin someone else's night by having them babysit him. kacchan's complained about it more than once.

he doesn't like small talk, it's not one of his strong suits. he can be a bit oblivious to social cues and tends to ramble incessantly about quirks, and all might and topics much too personal for polite conversations with strangers. he always ends up stammering out apologies and turning beet red when he gets "the look".

izuku doesn't do this.

he really did not want to go out tonight.

he really did not want to put on this dress shirt.

he really did not want to wait at the bar.

he turns around to look at his friend group. they're all laughing and carrying on with models and bottle girls that are desperate for their attention. even kacchan seems to be having a good time, probably recounting his victories and relishing in the way the girls linger to his every word. it's just not like that for izuku, he's always felt so awkward.

izuku doesn't do this.

he isn't some cassonova, like shinsou or sero, that can have a girl leaving with them before they'd even exchanged pleasantries.

he isn't cool or funny, like kaminari or kirishima, that can laugh a girl right out of her panties.

he isn't mysterious like shoto or confident like kachaan, whose mere existence is enough to attract a harem.

izuku doesn't do this.

he isn't his friends.

he's just--

"deku!?"

you're pretty, so so pretty; beautiful even. your smile is radiant; it leaves him breathless. your voice is angelic; like his own personal symphony. your eyes are kind; he could stare into them for hours. your body is amazing; you look so soft-- he wants to touch you in all the best, and worst, ways. your scent is hypnotic, it compliments you perfectly; he can't stop himself from leaning in-- it's like he's in a trance.

"wow, i can't believe i'm meeting my favorite hero! what can i get for you?"

he's your favorite hero? praise all might, he's blessed. to think that an angel like you had even considered his presence was astounding. if this was a different time, he'd worship at your feet with offerings of sacrifice and allegiance. you are the embodiment of all the beautiful things in the world that he'd sworn to protect. he doesn't even know your name but he's already named your three children and decided where you all would vacation in the summers.

izuku doesn't do this, because if he did he wouldn't have said that out loud and you wouldn't be giving him "the look". and fuck if he isn't mortified. can he not be a fucking nerd for once in his miserable existence ? maybe shinsou can brainwash him into forgetting how you flipped him off and called him a creep. his self deprecating mind can't handle that kind of torment on repeat.

izuku doesn't do this… and it seems like you can tell because why haven't belittled him ? why haven't you ran in the other direction? why aren't you giving him 'the look' anymore ? why are you smiling at him ?

"do i at least get to help plan the wedding? or was marriage not on the agenda?"

a joke.

that was a joke.

you were laughing with him, and not at him.

"of c-course you could help p-plan it but i think you should give me your number first".

he can thank the vestiges of OFA for that confident delivery because he was on the verge of passing out.

you whistled lowly, then bent down to grab two beers from under the bar.

"how about we start with names and see where the night takes us, huh? cheers".

izuku doesn't do this, but with the feeling of your fingers brushing his own as you hand him the drink lets him know that you're well worth it. he doesn't like his shirt, or this club but he likes you.

"cheers"

#deku x black reader #deku x chubby reader #deku x reader #mha deku #izuku midoriya imagine #izuku midoriya #midoriya fluff #midoriya x black reader #midoriya x reader #mha fluff #mha imagines #mha x reader #mha x blackreader

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greenorangevioletgrass · 3 years ago

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So, a fancy gotham party? Not the most ideal place to be.

You look wildly out of place as you look around. People here look they're wearing clothes that they've never worn before, dripping in jewels that are only going to back to their expansive closets, never to be seen again.

Your shoes are worn in and why wouldn't they be? You love these shoes. Your outfit is pieces that you adore. The fanciest stuff you own.

Not fancy enough for these people apparently, the stares look kind enough on the surface but underneath? Their true feelings are shown, an aura of condescension washes over you and their thoughts are clear, "You shouldn't be here."

If you were wearing your press badge, they'd be kinder, a fake plasticky kindness because of course they only care when you can report on their flaws to the public.

For rich people, they don't realise their kindness to people less fortunate than them is like that. As noticeably fake as the knockoff purse you stuffed your notepad into.

As they booze and schmooze, you're stuck in the corner, practically hiding like the emo cousin at the family gathering who's only there because their mum promised them a new Evanescence CD.

Your Evanescence CD? A pay rise. It's probably the only thing you'll get out of this.

You sigh, jotting down basic things as your gaze drifts over to the man standing with you.

He looks as out of place as you. Well, to these rich people. In your eyes, you should fit more a little more than him.

His look is almost perfect, with a few tweaks he could fit in. His suit is a little long in the sleeves but is too expensive for him to be able to afford a tailor, he keeps hiding his hands in it, like it's a $25 hoodie and not a $1000 suit. It's pressed perfectly though, strangely enough. His hair is slicked back but not in a smooth way, there are little pieces still sticking up like someone tried to get it all down. It's messy but in a pristine way. Confusing but you understand, it's probably one of his first fancy events too. Around his eyes are remnants of eyeliner, lightly drawn on, an act of defiance in this main event of benign conformity. His eyes are a piercing shade of blue... Fuck.

His gaze matches yours; he gives you a smile but it looks like it's hurting him. Like he forgot how to and... it made a sound. You didn't know it was possible to make a sound with a smile.

He quickly looks away, presumably seeing your confused expression, mumbling but you could understand that he thought he was creeping you out.

"Sorry, that was rude of me, you're the first person here who's smiled at me all night. It's nice to meet you."

He moves a little closer, peeking at your notepad.

You turn it to face him more and start to explain, "I work for the Gotham Gazette, specifically the gossip section. I have nothing, these people are unwilling to share their secrets to me, how rude."

He exhales loudly out of his nose, which you can assume is his version of a laugh.

"If I do this, I might get a promotion so the judgemental stares are worth it," you smile at him, "At least I have good company."

He clears his throat and speaks for the first time, although it's still quiet, pointing at a man who you know to be a theatre actor, "He only adopted his children so he could get their fortune if one of them dies."

"How on earth do you know that?" you look at him, seemingly with sparkles in your eyes as he looks back bashfully.

"People tend not to notice me so they assume I don't notice them. I'm good at picking up on information from context clues. These people also tend to say their secrets quite openly."

You laugh a little, "So, you don't mind selling them out?"

He can only stiffly shake his head, like an old action figure.

The two of you go through almost every member of the party, until you remember, "Damn, if I got something on Bruce Wayne, I'd really get that promotion. I thought he'd be here tonight."

His usual natural silence is changed to a panicked silence when the penny drops.

"Oh." you say simply. "I could just make something up, if you're comfortable with that."

"Not very journalistic of you." he grumbles.

Was he teasing? You assume he was in his own awkward, messy way. You sort of have gotten used to his little quirks over the evening. They're charming on him.

Charming... You start writing something down.

You say the words as you write them, "Bruce Wayne spent all evening charming someone, refusing to talk to anyone else except the mysterious beauty, could Gotham's most reclusive bachelor actually be making a move out of the dark?"

He practically whispers, "You don't need to lie for me."

You comically gasp as you write another note, "Mister Wayne, how dare you!", you hand him the note as you walk off, accidentally brushing hands, trying to hide your wide smile, "I always report the truth."

He is left dumbfounded as he makes his way home from the party, adding what he can only assume is your number to his phone during the limo ride home.

Alfred hands him his reward as he gets home, a My Chemical Romance CD, "Did you at least talk to someone?"

Bruce curtly nods as he briskly walks to his bedroom, removing the uncomfortable suit and tucking himself into his sheets.

He makes a mental note to call you when he needs a date for another event. You make him feel comfortable, weirdly enough.

He hasn't felt that for a good long while.

If only he asked for your name. His flirting skills really need work if he's going to fall into the playboy persona. It's a good idea. Some people could figure out his little secret and well, if he pretends to be an idiot, they'd suspect it less.

He falls asleep comfortably, thinking about you.

guys nbd @awkward-darkness just dropped a fucking GEM of a oneshot into my ask and i am so honored??? this is absolute perfection in a nutshell of a wet cat man *chef's kiss*

#battinson #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #ask ava

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sebstanseabass · 4 years ago

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 10

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the support and feedback! I'm so glad you're enjoying this fanfic <333 Feel free to like, reblog and comment. Would love to hear more of your thoughts! Love u guys <3

CHAPTER TEN

Just like last time he was here, Bucky grabbed some cereal box, poured the contents on a bowl followed by a tall glass of milk dumped over, making a mess on the kitchen island like a ten-year-old kid. You just finished changing into some new clothes when he finished pouring the milk in the bowl.

You followed into the kitchen, pouring yourself a hot cup of coffee from Peter's new coffee maker he got just two weeks ago and cleaned the mess that Bucky had left.

"How is it," you started just as he was about to walk out, "that you can flawlessly make a drink without making a huge mess but not with a cereal?"

He plopped down on the couch and placed his feet on the coffee table and turned on the television. He shrugged in response, eating a mouthful. "I was just trying to impress you. You're Peter's best friend. I want you to like me."

You just hummed and sat down on the love seat as soon as you finished, lifting your knee to your chest and letting the warm liquid slide at the back of your throat, letting the caffeine sit in me. You gave him no response as you didn't know what else to tell him. You just gazed at him, watching him like a hawk, as he continued to take a mouthful.

But you weren't staring at him like you did before. You were, somehow, trying to read his mind because the person sitting right now on your couch felt and looked so much different from the person who kept giving you lingering stares at the bar. One moment he was complimenting your photos, and the next your face. It felt like there were two of him and you didn't know which one attracted you more.

No one had ever looked at your photos the way he did. No one had ever talked about your photos the way he did. And no one had ever succeeded in getting a sudden yet fleeting internal reaction from you by calling you "doll."

"It's rude to stare, doll."

Except Bucky.

You apologized, and averted your gaze from him towards the television screen which showed the news channel. You took a huge sip of your coffee and ignored the searing pain of the hot liquid on the roof of your mouth. That's gonna leave a mark.

You hibernated inside your room for the next few hours, watching some sitcom on your laptop. You would hear Bucky yelling at the television screen from time to time or into his phone. Some names unfamiliar to you were mentioned. You hated the feeling of isolating yourself from the world but here you were, cocooning because you didn't know how else to be around Bucky after what happened that one night.

Plus, it felt like you were a child stuck with your babysitter.

He would knock on your door, check up on you, ask you if you needed some snacks, or if you wanted to do anything else besides locking yourself up in your room. The last time he called out for you, he was asking you to lunch, to the little Italian place across the building. Starving, you agreed to come with him only if he paid.

He just shook his head with a smile on his face. "I feel like you're taking advantage of me."

"I am." You said, locking the apartment door behind. "It's not like everyday I'm out with a rich guy."

"You gotta stop calling me that. I'm not rich rich."

"Compared to me, Buck," you said, "you are. Come on, let's go, I'm starving."

Just as you anticipated, Marco was beaming at you two once you entered his place, clearing a way for you, parting the customers like Moses did with the Red Sea. He pulled out two chairs for you and Bucky. Marco, as you assumed, was more than happy to see Bucky and more of his money. Bucky shook hands with Marco, thanking him.

Once you ordered, you turned towards Bucky who was busy looking at the photos of the gorgeous places in Italy on the walls. There was a bridge of silence between you as you continued to stare at him, still trying to read him. He may be an open book but it felt like his pages were complete blanks. Pages that were deep, far away from the cover, hidden and hoping to never see the light of day.

"Hey, Bucky?" you said, grabbing his attention. "What did you mean that night? When you told me I was something else? And please, don't give me one of those 'you're not like most girls' crap." You gave a snort of disgust.

He chuckled, biting the inner part of his lower lip before speaking. "I wasn't, anyway. You just intrigue me, that's all."

You subtly glance at him. "I intrigue you?"

"Yes, honestly you do. And you're fun to be with. It's not everyday someone agrees with me to scare off a one night stand the first day we meet." He laughed. "And I would like to get to know you better. And not just here."

You knitted your brows together in utter confusion. "Wait, what do you mean not just here?"

He shrugged, his eyes leaving yours and looked at somewhere else besides you. "Like outside."

"Like outside?" You repeated, the realization dawning on you. "Bucky, are you asking me out on a date?"

Bucky lifted his head and proceeded to look at the spotty ceiling, his lips curved downward. "If you want it to be."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

Then, he shot his head towards you, an agonizing frown marring his perfectly chiseled face. "Why not?"

You could think of many reasons why it would be a bad idea. First, you haven't been on a date for a very long time. Every person who had asked you out never had the luck of receiving a good answer from you. Second, Bucky was a complicated man.

And third, it would feel like betraying Peter.

"You're Peter's stepbrother." You sighed, defeated. "I can't do that to him."

"Right. Peter."

Marco came just about damn time to give you your newly-cooked food. Bucky ordered the same thing he got last time he was here: an Aglio Oglio pasta, paired with two large slices of pizza and garlic bread while you got a footlong Italian sub dripping with Marco's secret family sauce he never dared reveal. Marco said something in Italian before going back to the counter to tend to other customers.

Bucky smiled at you before you started digging in and began to speak. "How about this? Just two friends hanging out, not in the apartment, not here, not even at the bar, and getting to know one another. No funny business. Just like this. How does that sound?"

"As long as you promise not to give me those weird creepy stares you've been giving me since last night."

"Please, you also couldn't keep your eyes off me." He rolled his eyes. "Plus, I do have to admit you do look hot making drinks." He scrunched up his nose, taking a bite of his pizza without his eyes leaving yours.

A wave of confidence surged right through you, prompting you to ask this next question: "Did the whole cleavage thing push things?" You winked.

Bucky tilted his head to the side, just like he did this morning in the apartment, swallowing his food. "I'm not gonna lie, doll, that was also pretty hot."

"You should thank my friend Nat for that then."

He smirked. "I'll be sure to. So, uh, are you in?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well, I don't know how you kids these days ask things. Is it like that? I feel like it is."

You rolled your eyes, chucking a piece of garlic bread to his face. "I'm not a kid. By the way, how old are you?"

"I'm turning thirty-nine next month."

"Thirty-nine." You repeated. "Wow, if we were to go on a date, you'd be the oldest guy I've dated."

"Well, I'd be honored."

After your little lunch, Bucky went back to his office in his penthouse to deal with a few things with his associates while you, on the other hand, headed to the bar and started to fix all the stuff accordingly. A few hours later, Nick and Nat silently creeped up behind you, scaring the shit out of you and nearly making you drop the bottle of whiskey you were holding. You scolded both of them which they just, in turn, shrugged off.

You pulled Nat into one of the booths, making sure you were out of Nick's sight and wouldn't be able to hear you.

"Bucky kind of asked me out on a date." You whispered.

"Holy shit, I knew it. I knew he has the hots for you!" She said with a voice louder than you would've liked.

"Sshh, keep your voice down! I don't want Nick to hear this."

"Oh right, 'cause of the whole thing."

"Yes." You replied. "So anyway, I told Bucky it wouldn't be a good idea because it feels like I'm betraying Parker."

"He's just his stepbrother. Honey, you wouldn't be betraying anyone at all."

"But Parker's my best friend -- "

"Exactly." Nat's eyes bore into yours. "He's just your best friend, not your boyfriend so go date whoever you want to date. Just not Nick. He's kind of a loser."

"Isn't there some kind of code?"

"Like a bro code?"

"Yes, something like that."

"Did you and Peter have an agreement that you shouldn't date his stepbrother?"

You shook your head no.

"Then it's okay."

"Isn't dating your friend's siblings a part of some unspoken rule?"

She rolled her eyes at you, obviously fed up with all the excuses you have been trying to make. "As long as you're not hurting anyone then it's fine."

An exasperated sigh came out of your mouth. "Well, Bucky seemed to kind of agree to it, so what was supposed to be a date turned into just friends hanging out and getting to know each other. His words, not mine."

"Right, and once you get to know each other, you two can go on expensive dates and such."

"I don't know, it doesn't feel right."

"Now, now, don't be too sudden with that thought. Deep down you kind of want this to happen. If you didn't, you wouldn't be having second thoughts about this."

Oh, what you would give to prove Nat wrong but there was nothing else you could give because you knew she was right. You were fleetingly staring at Bucky as much as he did with you. And right from the get-go, there was spontaneity which opened up a whole new thrill in you. Something you never thought you'd ever feel.

The rest of the night felt excruciatingly slow.

There were some familiar faces in the crowd and some unfamiliar ones brought in by the regulars, having fun on Saturday night. While you were taking orders and making drinks left and right, your eyes kept roaming in the nameless faces inside the bar, hoping to see Bucky but your hopes were crushed when you found no sign of him. You were forced to take your mind off him for once as you were flooded with more orders, and complicated drinks that weren't on the menu. In the middle of your shift, there was even a small argument between a college student and a man in his thirties at the pool table. Eventually, the man, assaulting the poor boy, got kicked out of the house by Steve which was just a piece of cake with all the muscles he was packing.

Steve approached you with a stern look on his face. "If you see that guy again, don't let him in anymore alright? I don't want any fights in my bar."

"Got it." You said, taking note of the man's face from earlier. You warned the other bartenders beside you and the waitresses going around. You sighed, thinking to all the times you've told Steve to hire bouncers for the place but he just said:

"What do you need bouncers for when I'm here?"

And it was kind of hard to argue with that because it did make sense. The only problem was he was always cooped up in that small office of his. You never bothered to learn the secrets he was keeping in there. He couldn't always be doing work stuff. But after a few weeks of working with him, it was best to let those things slide as he was your boss.

Once your shift ended, you texted Bucky where he was but you never got a reply. You exchanged numbers right before he went back to the White Wolf.

You were greeted by an unlocked apartment once you got there but there was no sign of Bucky.

"Bucky?" You called out his name as you removed your jacket and placed it on the coat rack just beside the door. "Are you here?"

Silence answered you back. You went into your room and changed your shirt into something a bit more comfortable: an oversized sweater. A few seconds after you changed, you received a message from Bucky telling you to go to the rooftop.

You immediately went up, the chilly New York air touching your cheeks. You emerged from the ladder with a bewildered look crossing your face. The once grimy floor of the rooftop was perfectly cleaned up, leaving no dust and dirt behind. There were two large crates in the middle, big enough for two people to sit on. On top of the crate were a large box of pizza (you assumed it was from Marco's), and two bottles of ice cold beer.

"What on earth?" You gasped, finding Bucky emerging from behind a big box just casually standing against the brick walls.

"Hey, doll." He greeted you with a cheeky smile.

You stepped towards him, enveloping yourself in a hug in an attempt to warm yourself up against the cool air. "Did you clean our rooftop?"

"I may or may not have. Who knows? Anyway, I got us some pizza. I figured you were hungry from your late shift."

As a matter of fact, you really were. Drained from the endless orders and demands, you usually didn't have the time to sneak a bite of food or even a sip of water.

"I got the pizza from Marco's. He's a really nice man and was more than glad to see me when I stopped by."

"Of course he was." you laughed, sitting down on one of the crates. You opened the box, your mouth already drooling from the sight of Marco's mouth-watering pizza. "He likes the dough. Ha! Get it?"

He rolled his eyes at you but with a hint of a small smile in his lips as joined you on the crates. "So, are you gonna spend the night in the apartment?" You asked.

"Yes."

"What, got another girl back in the penthouse?" You teased, nudging his shoulder.

He gave you a throaty, sarcastic laugh. "This time, no."

"Too bad. I was ready to give a performance of a lifetime." You chuckled, glancing at him sideways and catching him with a big smile on his face.

You looked around you. The only source of light you had was the city lights towering above, and ahead of you. "You know," you started, "if you hung those little lights on the walls or just above us, this would seem like a date."

He pretended to wipe some sweat off his forehead. "Phew, dodged a bullet over there huh?"

You giggled, tipping the cap off the ice cold light beer and bringing the top of the bottle to your mouth. The liquid felt cold in your mouth but soon warmed up, nestling inside your stomach.

"This is nice." you commented then started to ramble on some more. "It'd be nicer to see New York during sunset though. Ever since I got the night shift in the bar, I rarely do. It's all the traffic and bright city lights."

You painted Bucky a picture of the last sunset you've watched. You had no recalling memory when it was but you remembered it as another cold day (but not as cold as tonight). The colorful sunset hues plastered in the high skies. Seeing it from the rooftop felt like they could easily be reached, as if they were wanting to be touched. And without a warning, the sun started to go down millisecond by millisecond.

"To others, what happens after a sunset is just another sign of the darkness to come. And then poof, city lights." you continued, then proceeded to gesture at the sky. "But for me, the feeling after a sunset is what I love the most. The sun wallowed in serenity in the pale break of light in between those dark clouds forming. Ugh, I just love that."

"I see what you mean." Bucky hummed, withdrawing his eyes to the sky to look at you. "It's like an afterglow."

"Yes, like an afterglow." You agreed, meeting his intense gaze. "If seeing something so beautiful makes you feel good then the after of it all must be... more pleasurable."

"A lot of people tend to miss that detail after sunset." He replied. "But not you. You're a photographer, y/n. The details in nature, in people are some things you can never miss."

You just hummed in response, taking a huge sip of your beer. " So, when did your love for photography start?" Bucky asked.

"It started when I was young." You replied. "I would play around with my parents' digital cameras, take photos of literally everything around me, especially when we were on vacation. It was just a hobby then. I never thought of it as a means of living until I was in college. God, I hated business school. Every second of it. I just did it to make my parents happy but I really wanted to be out there, embracing people, embracing everything in life. It's like -- "

"Capturing people's stories in a different light?" He continued for you, as if reading your mind.

"Exactly." You smiled, quite happy that he saw it the way you usually did.

"If it wasn't for the hotel business I also would've been an artist. Maybe an actor."

"So, why didn't you?"

"Because business is all I know." He sighed. "Tony Stark, the guy who adopted me, taught me everything there was to know. As he was building his empire, he pulled me towards it and now, I'm running one of his hotels. Y'know, I don't think of him as a father or anything. More like a friend, a wingman."

And just like that, Bucky peeled himself like an onion. Slowly. Layer by layer by layer. But then he stopped. He opened his mouth to say more but then he decided to stop. You waited but nothing else came out. As much as he wanted to know you, you too wanted to know him — and not just his wild adventures but the things that were deeper than that.

It felt nice to talk to Bucky this way. Actually, it wasn't just nice. It was very comfortable that it gave you a warm sensation on your chest.

Seeing that he wasn't as comfortable as he was before opening up, you steered to a different topic. "Have you ever felt that kind of feeling?" you asked.

"What feeling?"

"The afterglow feeling."

"No," he chuckled, "I don't think so. I'm stuck in a routine, y/n. Business, party, booze, girls. Nothing exciting, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything's the same, everything feels like nothing after."

You agreed with him. "I guess I'm also stuck in a rut." You harmonized with his laughter, seeing your life flash before your eyes. "Cheers to that."

With that, you drank the night away.

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kozutenshi · 4 years ago

Text

the harmonious sound of the instruments halted and the silence filled his ears as a light sheen of sweat covered his face. his accessories gleamed under the bright spotlight focused on him, his eyes sparkling underneath the shadow casted.

he hoped he looked glorious. a smile grew on his face, one may describe as lovely, one, lovesick. nevertheless, his mind had only one goal as he stood on the stage:

make music,

share it, and

show his love,

"for you."

PAMULINAWEN

— a folk song famous for its romantic lyrics. with this, people mostly sing it as a way to harana or serenade a girl before.

— the song, however, is actually about a girl with a hardened heart who doesn't bother herself with her suitor's pleads.

— some say that when people still had to cross the river to get to the other part of the land, they chanted the song quite frequently, resulting to it becoming popular among the people and a few changes in its words.

— the festival of the City of Laoag held around February to commemorate their patron saint, St. William the Hermit.

'wear something classy if you come here.'

it wasn't like him to get nervous.

but as he sat on his chair, rereading his text to you, waiting for his friends' voices and laughter to reach his ears even if they were already late for 5 minutes, he was starting to get anxious.

the night was planned very simply. fairy lights? check. the surprise detour? check. a dinner table for two? check.

it was supposed to be, until his friends looked for him and found out about his plan.

he understood that they wanted to help him, and so he did give them a chance. but, right now, as his suit keeps him warm from the chill of the air, he wished he predicted this night to go wrong for a bit.

sighing, he scrolled through his playlist, playing a different one as the other had finished. he didn't want the peace that the ocean gave.

distraction. that's what he needs.

so when he finally heard tendou's laugh echoing through the walls softly, he straightened up a bit and fixed how he looked. his friends had left you to wander around the beach house, the palm trees decorated with fairy lights and small sky lanterns.

gracefully, he appeared in front of you with a smile on his face that looks too tense to be natural, making you laugh at him.

"hey, i'm trying here." his smile was replaced by a scowl but it slowly melted to a tiny grin as you take his outstretched hand. "I know. but, it's fun teasing you."

his face warmed, his shoulders relaxing and his movements even more fluid as he led you to that spot by the laggoon, small enough to be crossed by a boat.

who was he kidding? this was you. you, who never judged him, who put up with his attitude that tended to be sour.

he would even say that he trusts you with his own life; well, that is if you won't be taking it.

"well then, don't trip nor please don't be scared. i promise i know what i'm doing."

he let your hand go to steady himself in the boat perfectly, making him look like an expert, before taking his black suit off and draping it on your seat. he then guided you into the shifting vessel, and though it was a bit wobbly, you managed to stand and sit in.

he smiled warmly, a silent gesture to reassure you, before tendou removes the rope connecting it to the dock. he bid the two of you with fake sniffles and tears, waving a handkerchief as if he was the parent of one of you two. this made you and semi share a look before laughing.

the stars twinkled overhead, dusted with gold and silver specks before it slowly disappeared, the cave swallowing the two of you up.

"semi? where are we going?"

"you'll see. well, for the mean time, you can open the lantern next to your feet if you want."

and so you did. the water was clear as the sound of water on the walls of the cave filled your ears. it was eerie if not for the calming expression on semi's face, something you didn't expect to see on him, and his soft humming echoing.

reaching the end of the cave, you reached another beach where he docked the boat and led you underneath a willow tree in the greenhouse that you had just entered out of curiosity.

"i know that i'll never grow old with you."

his voice made you turn to him as he softly sang the song. in his mind, all he thought of was pleasing you with a song, of making you smile.

he was only thinking of you.

you recognized the song: Monster from the movie the two of you had watched about Marceline and Princess Bubblegum from Adventure Time. as he sang full of love and emotions, it made you want to tear up then and there.

"you're the pink in my cheeks, and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft.."

it was his teasing smile that made you stop. you won't give in; not now, that is. "you're gonna cry now?"

"no? why would i?"

"aw, and here i thought i'll see your tears tonight."

"dream on."

he let his guitar lean on its old position, careful not to let it fall, before sitting in front of you. "so, are you gonna take me as your boyfriend now?"

"what makes you say that?"

"well, you came. and uhm, you let me hold your hand? i- uhm-"

he became a stuttering, blushing mess in front of you as he frantically searched for answers. were those normal? did he jump to conclusions too fast? he was panicked inside, his insecurities slowly creeping up.

the look on his face made you pause. "you know.. i was just asking.." your face was too warm for your liking, your blood roaring in your ears from your nerves.

"i just think.. i'm too obvious.. and uhm.. yeah."

"so- you're saying-"

his eyes went wide as he jumped up happily. it reminded you of his expression whenever he scores in his games before, of how he smiles after a performance; it reminded you of youth, the past, the present and the future in one.

you imagined seeing it every day, the spark in his eyes, the smile, his face; the feeling his arms as they wrapped around you abruptly out of excitement, love, and the warmth it carries.

your face grew even warmer as he pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead, murmuring sweet words that your comprehension hadn't caught. your brain was muddled already, and all you wanted was to sink in his arms, but as he detached himself from you, letting ushijima walk out of nowhere in a tux, serving your food, you were brought back to reality.

"so, how did you convince the team to help?"

"i didn't."

a grateful look passed on his face before he continued. "they volunteered. well, the plan started minutes late but it's alright."

"as long as you're here."

and there underneath the stars, the drifting clouds, the moon and the team gazed down upon you two, wishing things to turn out great as goshiki starts playing the violin softly in the background.

TRAVELLERS: @doodleniella @kenmakodzu @lyzzklm @mfcassandra @oikaw-ugh @seijohlogy @thesecondapplepienation

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5hfanfiction · 7 years ago

Text

you're like a piece of art (you need to be nailed against a wall)

A/N:

Part of a one shot book on wattpad, at jaureguicabello5eva

–

Camila doesn’t know what she’s looking at exactly. Actually, she does know what she’s looking at, she just doesn’t understand the big deal. Like, it’s a bunch of colorful squares and rectangles? She thinks she’s absolutely capable of painting that, and she doesn’t even consider herself an artist, so yeah, pay her whatever they’re paying these “abstract” artists. Whatever that means.

God, she feels uncultured as fuck, she thinks as she takes a sip of her third(?) glass of champagne.

Camila’s spending her Friday night in a too-tight red dress at the Museum of Modern Art in New York instead of catching up on sleep like she had planned. The museum is holding an exclusive exhibit for the weekend that features several works from known artists around the world. Not that Camila actually knows any of them.

Dinah, her best friend since coming out of the womb, had scored passes for the event from the sister-in-law of her cousin’s best friend’s girlfriend? Camila lost track after sister-in-law to be honest. Dinah knows way too many people, and she’s related to like half of California, so who knows?

Anyway, Dinah had gotten these passes and had planned to surprise her ex-boyfriend, who is the broody, artist, mysterious, lying, cheating, S.O.B. type apparently. After finding her ex in a very compromising position with some wench in their previously shared apartment, Dinah had immediately broken it off and proceeded to get over him by getting under as many people as she could, until she got over that too, and now she’s sort of just wallowing in self-pity.

So, Camila, because she’s the greatest best friend in the world, naturally, offered to go with her to the stupid exhibit anyway in hopes of cheering up her best friend, and maybe you’ll even get lucky with some hot-shot artist who makes hundreds of thousands of dollars painting blobs, Dinah!

Well, now she’s kind of regretting her decision. She loves Dinah, she really does, but is everyone who attends exhibits just naturally broody and boring or does she just have to widen her perspective?

–

Lauren is in heaven. She thinks this must be where starving artists lay their brushes down and go to die. She’s surrounded by incredible pieces that range from hundreds of years old to decades to within the last few years. There are pieces from your classic Van Gogh and Warhol, to newer pieces by Philippe Parreno, and her personal favorite, Weiwei. She’s convinced she’d actually died and gone to artist paradise.

She’d gotten a hold of a pass for this exclusive exhibit from Normani, her best friend, and who, by the way, was already Lauren’s favorite person in the world before she’d given her the pass, but now undoubtedly and solely owns the green-eyed girl’s heart.

And because the universe is being extra kind today, the exhibit just so happens to have Piet Mondrian’s Tableau I on loan from Museum Ludwig in Germany.

Lauren is absolutely ecstatic. She’s been having kind of an artist’s block lately and there’s nothing like one of the greatest pieces in abstract history to inspire her. Mondrian’s Tableau I is a math-based geometric perfection that brings colors and lines and absolute arithmetic precision to life and Lauren can’t wait to see it in person.

She’s majoring in architecture [A/N: sorry I keep writing Lauren as an architect/aspiring architect lol] though if things were up to her, she would have majored in fine arts with a focus on painting and drawing. She’s a great painter and she’s not too bad at digital design either, but her passion lies in drawing. Give her a pencil and anything can be her sketchpad.

She’s studying architecture because it incorporates her love for design and drawing and you need to major in something realistic, Lauren. There’s a reason they’re called “starving” artists. Do you really want to starve your future husband and kids?

Has it been mentioned that her mother can be a bit overbearing? Well she is, and so Lauren is going to let her mom have her way because as suffocating as her mom can be, the dark-haired girl does love her with everything that she has. But since she’s hell bent on getting some say in the matter, she’s also minoring in fine arts with a focus on, yup, drawing and painting.

She needs inspiration for her project in her Drawing II class as well as for her Advanced Urban Design class and thinks Tableau I is the best of both worlds. Some people might think his work is just rectangles and squares but those are probably the same people who think pineapple on pizza is okay, which it’s not.

Also, her mother doesn’t know it, but she’s pretty sure she’s not going to end up with a husband anyway. Not when she’s just laid her eyes on the most beautiful person? goddess? God’s gift to gay women? she’s ever seen.

Lauren is on her way to where she knows the painting is displayed when she spots a brunette squinting at Mondrian’s work. One of her hands has delicate, slender fingers wrapped around an almost-empty flute, while the other is worrying the bottom of her luscious lip.

Normani who? This woman owns Lauren’s heart now as far as she knows.

Lauren is your typical artist/aspiring architect so of course, she carries a sketchbook and pencil everywhere she goes. She pulls them both out and sits on a bench not too far, but not too close to pretty, brown eyes either. She doesn’t want to seem creepy, even though she is being creepy.

Lauren forgets the world around her as she gets completely absorbed in trying to capture the beauty in front of her as best as she can. She needs to capture how this girl’s long lashes curve up in the most tantalizing way and the delicate way they fall over her mesmerizing eyes when she blinks. She needs to properly portray the gentle slope of her nose, the curve of her mouth when her desirable, full lips smile, and the defined cheeks and sharp jawline that flank her entire face.

And that ass though.

She’s finishing up on outlining how her hair falls perfectly down her curved spine when she looks up and the object of her affection is gone.

“Shit,” she whispers to herself. “Where did she go?”

“I’m right here,” Normani says as she takes a seat next her. “I thought you’d be glued to an art piece by now, Laur” Normani chuckles. “You were so excited to come here and I find you just sat here, not even appreciating the work around you?” Normani clicks her tongue.

“Whatcha got there anyway,” she asks as she leans over and tries to see what’s got her friend busy.

Lauren scrambles to close her sketchbook and answers, “Nothing, just- um,” she struggles to look for an excuse that’s not I was drawing this pretty girl I saw. “Just working on a piece for my class,” she finally says. “All these pieces have given me the right inspiration,” she says with a bright smile and a thumbs up.

“Uh huh,” Normani says skeptically. “Anyway, I have to get back to finish this thing that’s due tomorrow. Did you want to leave with me or do you wanna stay for a bit?” Normani asks her friend.

Lauren takes one last desperate look around the museum for any sign of the mystery girl, and finally gives up when she sees none. “I’ll go with you I guess,” she answers despondently.

–

It’s been two weeks since Lauren saw Ms. Brown Eyes and she still can’t get her out of her head. The girl’s been hounding her thoughts, partly because she feels frustrated that she can’t finish her piece, and partly because, well, pretty girls tend to occupy her mind a lot.

She’s rushing out of the Starbucks on campus to get to her design class on time for once when she spots the same wavy, brown locks that she’d been trying to re-create on paper, sitting on one of the outside tables. She guesses it won’t make a difference now if she’s late to class one more time.

She goes here! Of course she goes here!

When Lauren sees the girl get up to leave, she immediately follows her before she realizes what she’s doing. Stalking is probably not the way to get her point across to the girl, although, she’s not really sure what to say to her.

Hey, I saw you at the museum and then I started drawing you without your permission, but you left before I was able to finish, so do you mind just posing for me for a bit. Also, you’re really pretty. My name is Lauren and I’m an idiot.

That doesn’t sound like it would get her a very desirable outcome.

So, naturally, she proceeds to just follow the girl like the creep that she actually is and finds out that she’s taking a class in the BIOL. building around two-thirty on Thursdays. The stalking gets a bit out of hand and before Lauren realizes what’s happening, she’s basically got the girl’s schedule on three out of the five days of the week memorized.

In her defense, she really just wants to get a few more details on the girl’s face so she can finish the drawing. She’s an excellent artist, but she’s also a perfectionist, and her memory just isn’t doing the girl justice.

“Mani,” she catches up to the girl one afternoon. “I saw her again but she took a different route to the CHEM building today, and so I still don’t have enough details for my sketch,” she pouts. Lauren has given up on keeping the girl a secret from her best friend and since that cat got out of the bag, it’s all she ever talks about now.

Normani rolls her eyes and tells her, “You are an actual stalker. Just go up to the dang girl, geez. I’ve never seen you have so much trouble talking to a girl.”

“She’s not just some girl, Mani” Lauren insists.

“So you think the best course of action is to never speak to her,” Normani deadpans.

“Alright, fine” Lauren responds. “I’ll talk to her tonight. After her night class in the physics lab building” she decides with a determined nod of her head.

Normani looks at her like she’s crazy and shakes her head, “I’m not even gonna say anything about how that sounds.” Lauren rolls her eyes but slings an arm over the other girl’s shoulder. “I think I’m in love, Mani” she sighs dramatically, putting a hand over her heart as the other girl laughs and pushes her away.

–

So the whole coming up to and talking to mystery girl plan has totally fallen through. Lauren’s not sure how she got to where she is but that’s not important at the moment. Right now, she’s truly reached absolute stalker level because she’s currently following her in the dark to what Lauren assumes is her apartment on campus. Every time she tried to approach her, the green-eyed girl’s nerves got the best of her and she ended up psyching herself out. Now, the window in which it’s acceptable to approach a stranger about possibly drawing them has passed and Lauren is stuck.

She’s so lost in her thoughts she didn’t realize the girl she was following is no longer in front of her. She takes a few steps forward and when she passes an opening to an alley, the mystery girl jumps out in front of her with her hands holding something pointed towards the dark-haired girl and screams,

“I HAVE MACE! STAND BACK” the girl screams and Lauren can’t help but think even her voice is sexy, and wow she’s about to be sprayed.

“No! Wait,” Lauren pleads, raising both her arms up. “I’m not going to hurt you I swear” she tries to convince the girl.

Camila is a bit taken aback by the girl in front of her. When she first realized she was being followed, she expected some buff, tattoos-in-the-face, hoodlum, who may or may not be armed with a knife or – or like nunchucks (she’s never robbed anyone before, she doesn’t know which types of weapons are appropriate).

Anyway, she wasn’t expecting this- this, beautiful human being. God, those eyes are mesmerizing, she thinks. But, back to the topic at hand.

“Okay green eyes, I’m gonna need you to explain yourself and if you so much as make a move,” she warns, “I’m going to spray you.”

Lauren keeps her hands up and decides to just rip the band-aid off. This situation cannot get any more out of hand so she thinks it’s best to just come clean.

She takes a deep breath and says, “Okay, well, I saw you at MOMA a few weeks ago and I was just so taken by your beauty and I thought you were the prettiest piece of art there so I started drawing you for my class, but I lost you before I had the chance to finish, so I started to sort of follow you around? You know, to add details to my sketch but it’s so hard when you’re constantly moving, so now I have this unfinished piece and it’s due tomorrow and I was wondering if you would mind posing for me? So I can finish my drawing?” Lauren rushes her words all in one breath. “How was your physics lab by the way?” she asks with a nervous chuckle.

Camila tries to process all the information and when she does, she can’t help but flush red. This gorgeous human being called her pretty? And she wants to draw her? She’s not sure if she’s creeped out or endeared.

She decides on the latter.

She slowly brings her hands down and puts her mace away. Lauren relaxes at that and throws her a meek smile. “I mean, it’s probably a hundred percent not safe because you just admitted to stalking me and you’re a complete stranger, but you’re really pulling off the whole awkward-but-cute thing you got going on, so….” Camila trails, putting a finger to her chin and pretending to think.

“…sure,” Camila concedes. “I’ll pose for you.”

“YES!” Lauren exclaims and then clears her throat. “I mean, thank you so much,” she says, her cheeks flushed. “My name is Lauren by the way.”

“I’m Camila,” the younger girl answers back while trying to contain a smile, extending one of her hands.

“Great, where do you want to do it?” Lauren asks after shaking hands with her. Then she realizes what that sounds like and backtracks quickly, “I mean do the drawing, for my piece, not like, do it in that way – I mean not that you aren’t, you know, attractive - because you totally are, and I’m not assuming you’re even into gir–”

“Oh my gosh, Lauren. Calm down,” Camila says amidst her laughter while putting a hand on Lauren’s arm to calm the girl down. The touch is doing things to Lauren’s body and she feels a spark of heat travel from where Camila is touching her to the rest of her body, sprinkling a comforting kind of warmth in its wake.

Lauren flushes a deep red that’s accentuated by her light features and rubs the back of her neck.

Once Camila thinks the girl has gone back to her normal pale color, she answers Lauren’s question, “We can do it at my apartment, so at least if you turn out to be a sociopath, my roommate, Dinah, will hopefully get back to the apartment and find evidence of what you might have done,” she winks and Lauren is blushing again in no time.

On their walk to Camila’s apartment, Lauren says “Well if I were really crazy and was planning on killing you, I think I would be called a ‘psychopath,’” she explains. Camila furrows her eyebrows and Lauren elaborates,

“Both obviously have problems regarding their conscience and the way they think, but psychopaths tend to seem like well-adjusted members of society. They can even have charming personalities and hold high-paying jobs, like, they could be doctors,” Lauren explains.

“Sociopaths, on the other hand, are a bit more obvious in their behavior and they tend to be antisocial, and since you think I’m “awkward-but-cute” which I’m going to interpret as subtly charming, I would be a ‘psychopath,’” she concludes.

Camila looks at her and says, “Yeah, your knowledge of this is not helping your case in convincing me that you’re not out to kill me.”

Lauren looks back at her and shakes her head, “I was just clarifying you know,” she says nervously. It’s like she’s lost all of her ability to function socially around this girl. “I swear, I’m not usually this weird,” she responds with a nervous chuckle.

“I hope not,” Camila winks and continues to walk on.

Once they’re in the apartment, Lauren is wringing her hands nervously and Camila raises an eyebrow, “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just-” Lauren sighs.

“Not to push my luck or anything, but since we’re here and you’re willing to pose, do you mind if I start the drawing over? Like the one I’ve been working on is kind of hard to finalize because I’ve had so many viewpoints of your face. So, if it’s okay, would you be willing to pose for a whole, new drawing instead?” Lauren asks nervously.

“Well, since we’re here anyway,” Camila thinks about it. “Sure,” she finishes with a smile.

Laurens spends a couple of hours perfecting her drawing. Well, she tries to perfect it anyway. She doesn’t think it’s possible for anyone to capture Camila in a way that does her beauty justice. Now that Camila isn’t constantly moving and because she doesn’t have to draw from a distance, she does a better job at highlighting some of her features.

When she showed Camila the finished product, Camila had gasped into her hand and praised her talent so much that Lauren was convinced the blush on her cheeks was going to be permanent.

Now, they find themselves watching Black Mirror on Netflix and no, they’re not Netflix and Chilling. They’re actually just watching.

Lauren is in the middle of a passionate rant about the dangers of social media especially bullying in social media after watching an episode where literally hundreds of thousands of people died because of it, when Camila catches herself staring at the girl’s beauty.

Lauren is obviously pretty on the outside, but after spending a few hours with her and speaking with her about her passions and views on life, Camila is convinced maybe that the saying about beauty coming from within is true because Lauren is the embodiment of beautiful. She’s breathtakingly exquisite without reservation.

“Sorry, I’m ranting,” Lauren says with a weak smile.

“No, I think it’s great. I think you’re great,” Camila responds without thinking.

“Um, thanks” Lauren says. Then, she doesn’t know where she gets the courage, but she asks anyway,

“Would you like to have coffee or something, some time this week, my treat” Lauren asks shyly. “You know, it’s the least I could do to thank you for saving my assignment and not calling the police,” she says with a nervous chuckle.

“Are you asking me out,” Camila asks teasingly.

“I mean we can do something inside,” Lauren responds cheekily.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a dork,” Camila says mid-laugh. Lauren thinks she’d gladly shed her bad girl persona and be the biggest dork if it elicits laughs like this from Camila.

“It’s a date,” Camila says and Lauren’s heart soars.

Lauren is about to bid her goodbye when a loud clap of thunder, accompanied by a sudden downpour of rain and strong winds, sound from outside and reverberate through the apartment.

The girls jump and Camila says shakily, “Um, maybe you should stay the night? It’s late and it’s raining, I don’t want something bad to happen to you,” she explains. “Also, I’m not sure when Dinah is coming back, kinda depends on how her date goes.”

Lauren starts to refuse and says, “I don’t want to impose and-”

“Honestly, Lo. It’s fine. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe,” she says with a genuine smile.

“Okay, I’ll take the couch,” Lauren concedes, the nickname catching her off-guard but sending another wave of pleasant warmth through her chest. She recognizes this feeling and she knows it’s way too early, but Camila’s soft smiles and genuine concern and just her overall presence is captivating Lauren in a way she’s not sure she has a chance to go against.

“No you can-,” Camila starts to protest.

“No, Camz,” Lauren says resolutely.

She shakes her head internally for letting the name she’s been calling Camila in her head all night slip out loud. “I’ve already asked too much from you, I’m not gonna take your bed too,” she says with a smile when it doesn’t look like Camila is going to object to the nickname.

“Okay,” Camila breathes out.

–

It’s about two in the morning when Lauren sleepily rubs her eyes as she hears movement from the far side of the couch. She jumps up from the couch in fright when she sees a figure standing above her and sighs in relief when she realizes it’s just Camila.

“Shit, Camila,” she gasps. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Camila answers quietly, her breath shaky.

“Is everything okay?” Lauren asks the younger girl.

“Um, it’s just that – I mean the thunder, you know, it hasn’t really stopped,” Camila answers weakly.

There’s a curve to Lauren’s mouth when she says, “Are you scared of thunderstorms?”

“What, no,” Camila says indignantly. “Of course, not. You’re scared of thunderstorms,” she throws back lamely.

Lauren raises an eyebrow and tries to stop herself from smiling.

“Okay fine, I’m scared of thunderstorms, so you’re either coming with me to bed or I’m joining you on the couch,” Camila dictates while crossing her arms.

Camila’s words spark a jolt of lightning through Lauren that starts from the base of her stomach and courses through her veins, spreading to her extremities, leaving her hot and bothered. She shakes the many different, dirty ways she’d made out of Camila asking her to bed and responds as steadily as she can, “Y-yeah, I’ll just join you. I don’t think we can fit in this couch anyway.”

She knows she wasn’t successful in hiding Camila’s effect on her when she spots the younger girl smirking at her shaky response from the corner of her eyes.

The heated atmosphere between them dies down when they settle in Camila’s bed. It’s not long before they start talking about anything and everything under the sun. They get in passionate debates about world issues and laugh at the silliness of toe socks.

Lauren, for her part, is decidedly continuing conversation between them because she recognizes a distraction is what Camila needs as she realizes early on that Camila’s fear of thunderstorms is pretty serious. Camila can tell that Lauren is fighting off sleep to keep her company and she feels herself falling.

It’s been less than twelve hours, Camila she thinks. There is no way she’s actually falling, right?

She goes to sleep free of the nightmares that usually plague her whenever there are thunderstorms and dreams about green eyes and white smiles and flushed cheeks instead.

–

The next morning, Camila walks out of her room and she is immediately jolted awake by the sight in front of her. Lauren had borrowed her clothes to sleep in and she’s wearing Camila’s favorite oversized hoodie that goes down to Lauren’s mid-thigh, sufficiently covering her short shorts and giving the illusion that she’s not wearing anything underneath.

Her messy hair is in a loose ponytail, highlight her widow’s peak and a few dark strands are framing her face. Her burrows are furrowed as her tongue is poking out between her teeth, seemingly in great concentration as she mixes what looks like pancake batter.

The sight is doing unhealthy things to her heart and even unhealthier things to the heat between her thighs.

She walks forward and makes her presence known. The green-eyed girl looks up and flashes her a smile that is threatening to combust her heart from where it’s trying to escape from her chest. The morning light catches Lauren’s eyes perfectly, making them the lightest green she’s ever seen them and highlighting the brown specks that are scattered right around her pupil. Camila’s heart needs a break, for crying out loud. How can anyone look this good at – Camila checks the time - seven in the morning?

She’s shaken out of her thoughts when she hears a raspy voice say, “Good morning, I hope you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen. I made you breakfast,” she says while gesturing to a plate that’s already made with eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes. Okay, she seriously needs to stop.

Lauren’s voice sounds even sexier in the morning and Camila has to take a deep breath to collect herself. She’s about to respond when –

“Why thank you, kind stranger,” Dinah says, walking out of her own room and grabbing Camila’s toast from her plate, proceeding to stuff her mouth with it.

Camila scowls and Lauren just looks amused.

“Wow, none of Camila’s previous hook-ups have made it past midnight before,” Dinah says while chewing. “And here you are making her breakfast and shit,” she says chuckling.

Lauren feels unmistakable heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks as Camila throws a piece of bread at her best friend, “Dinah! We didn’t hook up. Jeez,” she says scandalized, not yet at least. “She’s a friend. I helped her with a project. Lauren, this is Dinah,” Camila says gesturing to her friend, “Dinah, my friend Lauren,” she says as she introduces the two.

“Hm-mhm,” Dinah says, eyeing the two skeptically. “We all know what ‘friend’ means,” she says with exaggerated air quotes.

–

Their coffee date goes well and they continue to find out new things that they like about each other. Lauren is as passionate about her art as she is about world issues and Camila somehow pulls off being goofy and sexy at the same time while still keeping up with Lauren in their many, varied conversations.

They’ve gone on a few dates when Camila asks Lauren to go on a road trip with her to Baltimore one weekend. Lauren says yes without even thinking about it. She thinks she’ll follow Camila to the ends of the earth if she asks her.

Camila is finishing up her make up on the dresser in their hotel room when Lauren comes out of the bathroom, already made up, except for her dress, which she’s holding in the front of her chest with two hands.

“Hey Camz,” she says as she turns around and flips her hair over her shoulder so Camila can have access to her back, “Can you zip me up please,” she asks with her head only half-turned. She misses the way Camila basically drools at all the exposed skin.

They’ve only been dating a couple weeks and haven’t gone further than heated make out sessions where Camila had snuck a couple gropes on a breast or two and Lauren had made herself familiar with expanse of skin that is Camila’s ass. But right now, Camila is seriously considering throwing away her plans and throwing Lauren to bed instead and telling her she won’t need clothes for the rest of the weekend.

She’s shaken out of her trance when Lauren’s voice floats through the air and addresses her, “Camz?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she says as she stands up and goes behind Lauren. They make eye contact through the full body mirror in front of them and shoot each other meaningful smiles.

Camila steadies her shaking hands as she rests her left hand on Lauren’s hip and the other grabs the zipper near her lower back. She swallows hard and slowly pulls the zipper up, her knuckles grazing Lauren’s skin and leaving goose bumps in their wake. She hears a soft gasp from Lauren and she squeezes her hard on the hip. When she sees Lauren through the mirror closing her eyes with her red-painted lips slightly ajar, Camila leans forward, turning her head to face Lauren’s side and grazing her mouth on Lauren’s ear as she breathes out, “Can’t wait to help you of this later,” she husks as she gives Lauren one final squeeze and a quick, but deep kiss just below her ear.

Lauren turns around breathless and says, “I don’t care what the surprise is, I want you naked on this bed now.”

–

Camila should really get an award for having the world’s greatest self-control. After Lauren not so subtly expressed that she’d wanted to take Camila to bed, Camila had to power through and convince Lauren that the surprise is worth seeing.

Not very many people can defer such an offer from one Lauren Jauregui.

Lauren walks into the Baltimore Museum of Art and an energy of pure excitement courses through her as she looks around the exhibit. The museum had secured an exhibit from Ai Weiwei, Lauren’s absolute favorite contemporary artist. Weiwei is the perfect embodiment that showcases the intersectionality between Lauren’s two loves, art and activism. He uses his prominence to give voice to victims and decry faulty governments. He’s using a hundred percent of his profits from this specific exhibit to help the refugees in the Middle East.

The exhibit was pretty hard to get into and many other prominent artists and powerful figures had already secured VIP passes to this exclusive, one-night show months ahead, from what Lauren knows anyway. She looks at Camila and her heart soars at the way she’s looking back. Surrounded by magnificent art and Camila is looking at her like she’s the central piece.

“How?” she asks quietly, Lauren’s eyes stuck on Camila’s.

Camila shrugs her shoulders and says, “Pulled a few strings. I knew some people so…” she trails off when Lauren keeps looking at her like she had brought the moon to her.

“Thank you,” Lauren says sincerely squeezing Camila’s hand in hers.

“Anything for my girl,” she says with a with a wide smile.

–

After spending a couple hours in the exhibit, Camila finds Lauren in front of Weiwei’s Odyssey, a wallpaper piece that covers an entire wall on the far side of the gallery. The piece depicts the struggles of refugees in the Middle East in an ancient art style in which the characters in the piece are drawn as if they would have been in ancient times, on earth ware clay (Shaw, A. (2017) “Lest we forget, Ai Weiwei’s first show in Turkey is a meditation on refugee crisis. The Art Newspaper) [A/N: I still don’t know how citations work].

Camila comes up behind her and gently wraps her slender arms around Lauren’s midsection, laying her chin on the other girl’s shoulder.

“Do you like your surprise,” she whispers softly.

A fond smile forms on Lauren’s red lips. “I love it,” she says turning her head slightly. “I don’t even remember mentioning my favorite artist’s name to you” she says furrowing her brows.

“You may not have said his name, Lo” Camila explains. “But you mention his works a lot. Gosh Camz, there’s this artist I love. His pieces are so powerful and he’s a self-taught architect. He’s like me basically! An artist, an architect, and an activist,” Camila says in a deep, husky voice in what is supposed to be her imitation of Lauren’s raspy voice.

Lauren laughs softly, and god, she is endeared by the woman in front of her. “I do not sound like that,” she says mid-laugh. “I hope you don’t do that impression of me to anyone else.”

Camila feels that familiar warmth in her chest whenever she hears Lauren laughing because of her and she tightens her arms around the girl, trying not to say anything that could definitely scare the other girl away. Two weeks is way too short for such deep feelings.

“But I can’t believe you pay enough attention to my ramblings to pick out my favorite artist just from talking about different pieces. I mean, I talk about a lot of other pieces too,” Lauren continues to point out.

“Well, it really isn’t hard to pay attention to you, Laur,” Camila responds softly. “I know you don’t notice it, but half the room pays attention to you even when you’re not doing anything. It helps that I’m also always so in tune to everything you do. It’s like my body and mind are programmed to listen to and watch everything you do,” she finishes.

Lauren’s heart is hammering against her chest. She can’t believe Camila turned out to be even more beautiful on the inside once she got to know her. She turns around in Camila’s arms and wraps her own hands around the other girl’s neck.

“You know, you called me ‘your girl,’ earlier,” Lauren says.

“Oh did I?” Camila pretends to scrunch up her face.

“Well, am I?” Lauren asks hesitantly. “Your girl I mean, like, are we girlfriends?” she powers through the mad blush that is taking over her face.

Camila can’t believe this precious human being is all hers. “Lauren Michelle Jauregui,” she responds while trailing her hands down Lauren’s back so softly Lauren might not have noticed it if all her nerve endings weren’t firing like crazy at the moment.

“Will you be my girlfrie-,” Camila tries to say.

“Yes,” Lauren breathes out before she even finishes and attacks Camila’s lips with her own, immediately slipping her tongue in Camila’s mouth when she gasps. Lauren indulges in the warmth of Camila’s mouth and tongue and the soft breaths she’s letting out for every particularly hard swipe of her tongue before she pulls back, lest they get kicked out for public indecency.

Camila opens her eyes slowly, still slightly dazed, “I’m gonna go research a bunch of exhibits you like if I get thanked like that every time” she says in a breathless voice.

Lauren laughs and then leans close to Camila’s ear, playing with the hairs behind her neck when she rasps out, “That’s not all, baby. I plan on thanking you a lot more when we get back to the hotel.”

Camila swallows hard and responds shakily, “H-how exactly are you going to do that?”

Lauren smirks and subtly sucks on Camila’s skin where her jaw meets her neck while wrapping her slim fingers around Camila’s neck lightly, but noticeably more tightly than before,

“How about…,” she whispers, “I let you have your way with me?” she says and Camila drags her out of the museum before Lauren even has a chance to figure out what’s happening.

–

They’re cuddled up on Lauren’s bed one night with Lauren’s arms wrapped around the other girl and Camila facing away from the green-eyed girl, the brunette’s own hands playing with Lauren’s fingers, which have snuck their way in Camila’s shirt and is drawing patterns on her toned stomach when Lauren breathes out against her neck,

“Will you let me paint on you?” she asks.

Camila turns around in her arms and brings both hands to Lauren’s face, cupping her face gently when she responds with a cheeky smile, “You want to paint me like one of your French girls?”

Lauren laughs lightly and turns her head to plant a quick kiss to the inside of Camila’s palm. Camila’s gaze softens at the action and she’s close to saying the same words she’d made a conscious effort not say to anyone for a very long time when Lauren says,

“No I mean like, paint on you” she says. “I want to paint on your back, specifically.”

Camila shakes her thoughts away internally and thinks about it for a second. “Hmm, that’s very tumblr-y. And kinda gay. That’s very tumblr-y and gay, Laur” she finally says.

“Well then it’s perfect for the both of us,” she says with a bright smile. “Come on,” she implores while running her hand down Camila’s back and up her shirt, tracing the soft skin along the ridges of her spine as she leans forward to breathe out against the other girl’s neck, “Your back is so sexy, baby. It would be like making art on art,” she husks out after sucking on a sensitive spot on the other girl’s neck.

“You can be very persuasive,” Camila half says, half moans.

Lauren smirks against her skin and pulls back, “So is that a yes?”

Camila looks her girlfriend in the eye and says, “You’re way too charming for your own good, you know that? It’s kinda scary, like what if down the road you want to paint our kids’ room a crazy color or display raunchy paintings in our living room because it’s art, Camz.”

They both seem to realize the implication behind Camila’s words and the brunette flushes a deep red as her hands become sweaty.

Shit. She’s gonna run. I totally freaked her out.

Lauren’s heartbeat is thunderous in her chest and she can’t help but picture a future with Camila. A slow smile forms on her lips and she says before the other girl can backtrack, “Then I guess I’ll just have to persuade youthe only way I know if I want paintings of naked girls in our homeor if I want to paint our kids’ room a light shade of smaragdine.” [A/N: it’s green].

Camila’s heart leaps in her chest and it’s like Lauren and Camila’s hearts are competing to see who can jump out of their ribbed confines first. They look at each other with soft smiles and twinkles in their eyes, and against all the dating rules they’ve placed for themselves, with love. With Lauren’s response confirming that the green-eyed girl is in this for the long run, Camila can’t help but think she can’t wait to hang paintings of naked girls and design smaragdine-colored rooms.

That’s how Camila finds herself on her stomach with her top off and wearing only her Iron Man boy shorts with Lauren straddling her, the green-eyed girl perched right on top of her butt. They both go to sleep in just shirts and underwear so Lauren herself is sitting on Camila with nothing but a shirt and some lace underwear and Camila is finding it hard to focus.

They’re facing towards the foot of the bed so Camila has a perfect view of Lauren working on her back through the mirror on Lauren’s dresser, which is in front of the bed across the room. Lauren’s The 1975 shirt, or is it Camila’s(?), has already collected a few paint spots as Lauren seems too absorbed in her work to notice anything else. Her hair is up in a messy bun and her tongue is poking out between her teeth in the way that it does when she’s concentrating and she’s wearing her glasses and Camila is in love.

She’s still reluctant to say it because it’s still way too soon in her opinion and she’s had her heart broken too many times. She’d given her heart out way too easily in the past and she refuses to lose in love again. Her thoughts are broken when Lauren moves on top of her.

The older girl leans forward and props her right hand by Camila’s chest, her fingers grazing Camila’s exposed side boob, while she uses her left hand to work on, apparently, a very small detail on Camila’s back because her face is inches from Camila’s skin and her hot breath is sending a warm, tingling sensation throughout her body. Lauren leaning forward also shifts where the green-eyed girl’s center is sat on top of Camila’s ass and the friction causes Camila to moan.

Lauren seems to be shaken out of her focus and immediately asks, “Shit, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“NO! Um-,” Camila clears her throat. “I mean it’s just um-” she tries to gather her thoughts to no avail and swallows hard.

Lauren looks at Camila’s flushed cheeks through the mirror and sees how her blush has spread to her ears and the back of her neck. She smirks, “Oh, I see what’s happening. Can’t you keep it in your pants for like two seconds?” Lauren says while chuckling, their point of contact making Camila feel every vibration through her body.

“No I can’t just keep it in my pants. Have you seen yourself?” Camila huffs indignantly.

Lauren just shakes her head and laughs. She leans forward and puts her brush down, placing both of her hands on either side of Camila’s head, being careful not to touch the paint, and turns to give Camila’s cheek a lingering kiss followed by a whisper in her ear, “Later, babe.”

Lauren finishes up and takes a picture of Camila’s back with her polaroid camera while remaining seated on Camila. She retrieves the picture and can’t help the smile that forms on her lips. The flawless curve of Camila’s back had been the perfect backdrop for the galaxy that she painted, the swirls of the cosmos perfectly complementing the shape of Camila’s body. She can see her own pale thighs dotted with paint and contrasting against Camila’s tan skin as she straddles her. Camila’s head is turned to the side, showing her mid laugh with her eyes closed and smile wide.

Lauren looks at it and knows she’s in love.

–

Lauren and Camila are at another exhibit and this time, it’s Lauren’s.

It’s been three years since Lauren stalked Camila on her way to her apartment and started their story of a lifetime. Camila graduated with high honors and is now nearing the end of her first year as a medical student. Lauren, on the other hand, had been picked up by a benefactor when Camila and Lauren spent the summer after graduation in France.

Her patron’s massive wealth combined with her incredible talent meant it took almost no time before Lauren gained ground in the art scene and became one of the fastest rising artists in the world. Following the footsteps of her artist/activist hero, Lauren has been donating a good portion of her profits to various charities, some she’d founded herself, after she had established a steady pace in her career.

Now, she’s in the middle of one of her most important exhibits yet. The gallery is filled with art pieces that depict her own life. Her benefactor had convinced her to create a showcase as a way for people to “get to know the artist.” She had used as many different media as she could think of to symbolize the many different layers and nuances that make up her life. She has her career, her friends, her family, her hobbies and interests, and of course, she has her Camila.

Lauren feels exposed and not because there are people looking into different aspects of her life, but because even after years of being with Camila, she feels the most nervous about her art when it comes to the brown-eyed girl. What if she thinks the whole exhibit is ridiculous and narcissistic?

“Hey, babe” Camila addresses her cheerily as she comes up to her girlfriend, effectively stopping Lauren’s train of thought. She looks up and sees her inspiration for just about every significant art piece she’d sold.

“Hey,” she says. “What do you think?” she asks nervously.

Camila comes up to wrap her arms around the other girl’s neck and Lauren instinctively places her hands around the girl’s waist. “I think you continue to amaze me with your talent is what I think,” Camila says, pride shining in her eyes.

Lauren lets out a sigh of relief and grabs Camila’s hand, “Come on, it’s time to reveal the central piece.”

Lauren is next to Camila as the curator for the gallery is giving an introduction about Lauren and her piece and Camila can feel the nerves radiating from the girl next to her. Lauren had refused to show Camila the piece before the actual exhibit. She had even worked on it in secret, sneaking out at night and sneaking back in the early hours of the morning. It had caused quite the problem for them.

–

Camila stirs awake and her hands instinctively reach out for her girlfriend’s warmth, only to be met with cold, empty sheets. She sits up and rubs her eyes, adjusting her eyes to the darkness and finding no sign of the green-eyed girl. She gets up and calls out into the empty apartment,

“Laur?”

Nothing.

Her heart thuds in her chest and she feels a familiar ache in her chest. Lately, Lauren has been busy “working on something” and she’s barely seen her. She had trusted the girl early on, but Camila had been cheated on so many times she knows the signs like the back of her hand. She picks up her phone and dials the other girl’s number only to see it vibrating on the coffee table.

“Damn it, Laur” she whispers.

She tries to stay up for the girl but finds herself falling asleep on the couch after a couple hours. She’s stirred awake when she hears keys jingling on the door. She stands up and crosses her arms immediately. Lauren walks in looking tired.

“Long night?” Camila asks harshly.

“Camila, what are you doing up?” Lauren asks.

Camila looks at her like she’d lost her damn mind, “What am I- are you kidding? Where have youbeen?” she asks angrily. Her temper rising against her own volition.

Lauren sighs and moves to the kitchen, “I’m tired Camila, can we not do this right now? I told you I’ve been working on something.”

“Something or someone?”

Lauren turns her head and says angrily, “Are you serious? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“You’ve been out late most nights and all you have to say about it is you’re ‘working on something’.” Camila says heatedly. “I mean, we live together and I barely see you, Laur,” Camila says, her voice cracking. “I just miss you.”

Lauren looks at her with an unreadable expression, “Do you not trust me?”

Camila looks at her and stays silent. Lauren scoffs and shakes her head, “Unbelievable, after almost three years of being together, you still think I’m like your exes? Like I’m just gonna get up and leave? What do I have to do to show you that I love you and I’m here for the long run?” she asks exasperatedly. “You’ve been looking for reasons to not make this work, Camila, and as far as I know, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Lauren I’m sor-”

“You know what, I can’t do this,” Lauren says picking up her keys again. “Come talk to me when you’re ready to listen” she says as she walks out the door.

That following night, when Lauren doesn’t come home, Camila cries herself to sleep. Lauren had left her phone again in her haste to leave and now Camila doesn’t know how to reach her.

Lauren is spending another late night at the studio and when she walks out of the ART building, she sees Camila by the steps. “Camila?” she asks. The girl turns around and gets up quickly. Her body is aching to bring Lauren in her arms and hug her and never let her go again, but she’s not sure where they stand so she keeps her hands to herself, choosing to stuff them in her pockets instead. Her eyes are swollen and she looks like she hasn’t slept in the last couple days. Lauren’s heart breaks at the sight. She thought she was doing the right thing by giving them space.

“I’m sorry,” Camila says, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I do trust you Laur. I do. It’s me, I just get so insecure,” she looks up with pleading eyes. “Please come home.”

Lauren closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around the other girl. She’d miss Camila and her warmth and just her these past few days, it’s like she’d been on autopilot until she got to touch her again. “I’m sorry,” she responds. “I’ve just been so stressed lately and I thought I was doing us a favor by giving us a break,” she turns her head to give Camila’s head a kiss.

Camila pulls back with tears in her eyes and leans forward to give Lauren a watery kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Lauren sighs. She’s glad to be home again.

The next morning, Camila wakes up to empty sheets again but when she turns her head, she sees a single rose with a note,

“I love you, Camila. I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel otherwise. I’ve packed your stuff. Get dressed and come meet me downstairs, I’m getting the car ready. We’re going away for the weekend. – Yours forever, Lauren”

Camila smiles to herself and gets ready as fast as she can. She sees Lauren downstairs leaning against her car and holding a bouquet of red roses with her attention on her phone. “Is this how you’re going to make it up to me every time we fight?” she asks as she approaches the green-eyed girl.

Lauren looks up and smiles as she offers her girl the flowers. “Actually, I’ve had this planned for a while. I’d been working late because I was trying to finish my piece so we can have this weekend all to ourselves,” she says sincerely.

Camila’s gaze softens and she starts to feel guilty. “Don’t,” Lauren interrupts her moping. “I should have done a better job at communicating with you. We both messed up,” she says as she brings Camila’s chin up with her fingers. “We’re going to continue to mess up but it won’t matter because at the end of the day, we’re always going to come back to one another. My heart isn’t capable of doing anything else but beat for yours, okay?” she assures Camila as she kisses her forehead.

–

Camila looks over and sees the girl worrying her lip and fiddling with her fingers. Camila reaches out to stop her fingers and interlaces their hands instead. Lauren gives her a soft look and mutters a “thank you” in her ear when she leans over to give her forehead a kiss.

“…and now, it’s time to reveal, The Center of Her Universe,” the curator announces as the veil is pulled down from the framed piece.

There are soft gasps all around and flashes flicker as the invited press takes pictures of the gigantic drawing in the center of the room.

Camila herself is finding it hard to breathe. She’s looking at the piece and it’s causing a rush of emotions that bulldozes right through her entire being. The art piece is a larger-than-life drawing of a girl that looks a lot like Camila.

The artist’s perspective shows the girl’s side profile. She’s standing with her hand worrying her lip as she looks to be concentrating on what’s in front of her. Camila notes the familiar geometric shapes that the girl is looking at.

Tableau I.

It’s a drawing of Camila when Lauren first laid eyes on her.

What makes the drawing breathtaking is the fact that on the dress Camila is wearing and throughout her wavy, brown locks, there are miniature drawings of different scenes from Camila and Lauren’s time together. The mini scenes are drawn with exquisite detail despite the seemingly non-existent space. There are sketches of their movie dates, gifts they’ve given each other, and quotes and declarations of love they’ve said over the years.

Camila, with tears in her eyes, turns to look at Lauren, who of course, is already looking at her.

“Lauren,” she whispers in awe. “This is incredible.”

“It doesn’t do justice to half of your beauty and what you’ve done to my life since I found you,” Lauren responds sincerely. Camila can’t say or do anything but throw her arms around Lauren and say, “I love you so much.”

–

They’re sitting on the rooftop of the gallery a couple hours after the exhibit had come to a close with Camila’s arm intertwined with Lauren’s and her head leaning against the other girl’s shoulder.

Camila can’t think of any other place she’d rather be.

Lauren disrupts the silence when she reaches for something in her jacket and for the second time that night, Camila is speechless. In front of her, Lauren is holding onto an open small box with a ring.

“I actually wanted to this at the reveal, but then I remembered how every milestone in our relationship had always just been between the two of us and I also didn’t want to pressure you in front of those people so…” Lauren says with a nervous laugh.

Camila looks up into her favorite green eyes and she sees the other girl’s nervous gaze as if Camila could even say anything other than yes to her.

“Like I wanted to depict in my main piece,” Lauren starts. “You’re the center of my universe, Camila. You’ve brought nothing but happiness and pure love to my life and I can’t thank you enough. You continue to be my number one supporter and have stayed by my side through everything. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how grateful I am for you if you’d let me, so…” she takes a deep breath.

“Camila Cabello,” she starts again, “Will you marr-”

“YES!” Camila answers and throws her arms around Lauren’s neck and kisses her as if to say every single thing she doesn’t know how to describe in words through the way her mouth moves along Lauren’s. She’s kissing her to show Lauren that with the green-eyed girl, it’s always going to be a resounding yes. Lauren owns her heart and everything else. She owns all of Camila.

“A thousand times yes,” she breathes into Lauren’s mouth as the other girl’s lips curve into a smile.

–

Camila is admiring the ring on her finger when she suddenly says to the other girl, “I still can’t believe you didn’t just come up to me that first day in MOMA,” she says with a confused look.

“That was probably honestly for the best,” Lauren says.

“What, why?” Camila asks curiously.

“The only thing that was going through my mind at the time was a lame pick-up line that definitely would not have worked in my favor,” Lauren says laughing to herself.

“What was it,” Camila asks.

Lauren looks at her and concedes. She clears her throat and says in a deep, husky voice,

“You’re like a piece of art,” she starts.

When Camila only raises an eyebrow, she continues.

“I want to nail you against the wall.”

–

The End.

–

A/N:

Hey everyone,

I’m back with another one shot. I’m compiling my one shots in a book on wattpad under @jaureguicabello5eva (still working on getting these on ao3). I have a few ideas and I’m going to try to upload semi-regularly.

Feel free to send me some prompts or just general things you want to see in future stories and I’ll see what I can do.

Comments/feedback give me life so please tell me what you think. Talk to me about some ideas, scenes within the story, your thoughts on the plots, the characters, point out some typos if you want, etc.

Hope you guys enjoyed this one!

side note: there are pictures in wattpad if you want to have a better idea of the pieces being referenced

-Maddox

#UPDATE #one shot #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #humour #romance fluff #submission #youre like a piece of art you need to be nailed against a wall

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lalainajanes · 7 years ago

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I don't know if you're taking prompts, but I had an idea: Klaroline fanfic, Misfits AU/AH. I don't know if you're familiar with the show but basically a bunch of young offenders get struck by lightning and gain (super)powers. They find out that others got struck and also have powers. It doesn't have to be young offenders, but could be based around the idea of one or both getting struck by lightning and gaining powers. The show was like Heroes meets Skins/Skam/Teen Drama,

I’ve only seen a bit of Misfits! It’s on my to continue list. I snuck in some bonus Halloween vibes just because.

The Rush Too Much

Klaus rollsinto the driveway slowly, his eyes on the half constructed haunted house on thefront lawn. It was rather larger than he’d anticipated but then he’d only seenit in pieces.

Carolinehas obviously been busy.

It’s beendrizzling all day, and claps of thunder have been steadily growing in volume asKlaus made the drive home. Caroline seems undaunted, decked out in a rain coatand a knit hat. She’s perched on a step ladder, carefully stringing lightsaround the top edge of the haunted house’s façade. Her curls are a wild messunder her hat and her cheeks are pink and wind chapped. Still, he’d bet moneyshe’s humming happily to herself while she works.

The Fourthof July Barbeque she’d thrown had proven that Caroline took holidays veryseriously and thoroughly enjoyed herself in the process.

Carolinehad moved into the house in June. At that point she’d merely been a friend of afriend who’d been looking for a new living situation. Klaus had been desperateto fill his spare room. Kol had been unsubtly hinting about relocating andneeding a place to stay and Klaus thought living with his younger brother wouldbe a special sort of hell.

Asroommates he and Caroline could havebeen a disaster – they were both a bit overly fond of getting their own way – butthey’d come to rub along rather well. Despite being the social sort, and anunrepentant chatter box, Caroline was very much an only child, fond of her ownspace and occasional bouts of quiet. She was excellent at reading when hewanted company and when he preferred solitude. And while Klaus might not be asneat as she liked as long as he kept his clutter confined to his private spaces(and took care of the messes in the shared ones in a timely fashion) she mostlymanaged to keep from complaining too strenuously. They liked some of the sameTV, enjoyed arguing about the instances where their opinions differed.

If an outside party were to witness one of those debates they might have commented on how Klaus andCaroline tended to crowd closer together on the sofa, all under the guise ofmaking their points. Klaus had come to deliberately stoke the flames, tossingout a not-so-innocent observations that he knew would irritate her. He thought Caroline might be doing thesame, that she was going out of her way to touch him when they sniped at eachother, and Klaus was mulling over a way to test the theory.

Theroommate angle made making a move annoyingly complicated. Klaus had neverhesitated to go after what he wanted but he didn’t relish the potentialawkwardness that would follow if he was drastically misreading the situation.Their respective friend groups had begun to mingle and Rebekah would likelykill him in his sleep if he ruined it now that she was making her own moves onCaroline’s friend Enzo.

Besides, itwasn’t as if Klaus was just attractedto her. That would have been easy. He’d seen the way she looked at him when hewas just out of the shower, noticed her eyes lingering appreciatively when hewas shirtless and rushing around in the morning. If it was just lust they wouldhave been able to work that out in a night or two and then slip back into theireasy routine with their sexual tension no longer an issue. Klaus had found thathe liked Caroline. Liked making herlaugh, liked hearing her impressions of her least favorite coworkers as sheunwound from her day, liked sharing coffee and the newspaper over bowls ofcereal on Saturdays.

It wasdifficult to figure out if Caroline felt similarly. She was an affectionateperson in general, free with smiles and touches and, as far as Klaus couldtell, she’d yet to make a gesture that could be definitively considered morethan platonic.

He spentfar too much time thinking about it, dissecting their every interaction,wondering if she were possibly doing the same.

A wickedgust of wing whistles past and Caroline wobbles on her perch, steadying herselfjust as Klaus gets out of his SUV. “Hey!” she calls, once she’s stable again.“I didn’t hear you pull up.”

Klausburrows deeper into the collar of his jacket, stuffing his hand in his pocketsas he approaches her. “Lost in your own thoughts?”

“Somethinglike that. Do you like it?” She wriggles her fingers, dropping her voice, “Isit spo-oo-oky?”

Klausfights a smile as he studies the weathered planks. The haunted house is made ofwood with groves cut into it in a brick pattern, painted grey and made to looktextured. Caroline had made a special trip back to Mystic Falls to pick it up afew weeks ago, had spent last weekend painstakingly re-doing the paint. Klaushad helped, had even added some creeping vines around the windows and door inshades of green.

He’d been abit dubious as she’d laid it all out. He’d thought she’d been exaggerating whenshe claimed that she took Halloween was muchmore important than July 4th (and hewas a bit concerned about what Christmas would bring given that holiday’sposition at the very top of Caroline’s hierarchy of celebrations. He’s going toneed to draw the line at a Santa suit). It had been impossible not to be sweptup in Caroline’s excitement as she’d told him about how she’d helped her Dadbuild the haunted house, how they’d added and embellished over the years untilshe’d gone away to college.

He’d died afew years ago and this was the first time since that Caroline had lived in aplace with a yard. She was determined to restore the house to its former gloryand make a Halloween to remember.

By the timethe painting had been done Klaus had agreed to help carve jack o’lanterns (andhe’d been out on a mission all day searching for perfect pumpkins). He’ssomehow even been roped into manning the haunted house, in costume (though he’dvetoed the first dozen or so of Caroline’s suggestions), and handing out candyto the neighborhood children – previously the stuff of his nightmares.

A crack oflightning sparks and they both startle. “It certainly fits into the currentambience,” he says. “It’s perfectly apropos for a dark and stormy night.”

“Right?”Caroline agrees. “I’m going to have to take a picture for Instagram after I’mdone with the lights.”

Klausglances up at the darkening sky, “Maybe the lights can wait until tomorrow,love.”

“I’m almostdone. You can go in. The pumpkins will be fine in the car. I’ll help you unloadtomorrow.”

She turnsback to her task and Klaus fights a sigh. He’s only lived with Caroline for afew months but he’s well aware of what she’d like when she’s set on a project.She stretches to reach a corner and Klaus eyes the step stool worriedly. He hasno idea where it had come from and it doesn’t look especially sturdy. He stepsa bit closer, a hand rising to hover around her lower back. “How about I help?If you fall and break your neck I’ll be stuck with about a dozen pumpkins and aBatman suit.”

He can’tsee her face but he knows that she’s smiling. “Pumpkins are nutritious and delicious. And I’m pretty sure youcould totally use the suit to pick up women. Chicks dig the illusion of atwelve-pack.”

Klaus openshis mouth, intent on using the opening she’d just given him – he has zero interest in picking up women whoaren’t her – but he’s interrupted by another flash of lightning, closer thanbefore, and accompanied by an ear-splitting burst of thunder. Caroline yelps,losing her balance and toppling off the stool. Klaus lunges for her, wrappingan arm around her waist as she crashes into him. He struggles to stay uprightwith her added weight, and they plow into a nearby tree. “Fuck,” Klaus gritsout as he takes the brunt of the impact and pain shoots from his shoulder.Caroline looks up worriedly at the curse, her hands running over his sides,“Sorry! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” hemanages, clenching his teeth together.

Carolinerises up on her tiptoes and touches his shoulder. It stings, even though she’sbeing careful. “Ouch, that looks gross. You’re bleeding. I can call Elena. I’msure she’d be thrilled to practice her stiches.”

“No,” Klaussays, immediately. “I’m sure it’s just a scratch.” Elena Gilbert was Caroline’sleast tolerable acquaintance and he did nottrust her to sew him up, doctor in training or not.

Carolineisn’t completely placated, “We’ll see. I’ll clean it up when we get inside andsee if the bleeding will stop on its own. The better news is I think I can evenfix your jacket.”

“You don’thave to…”

She makes adisbelieving noise, “Shush. It’s the least I can do after you did such a kickass knight in shining armor impression.” She catches his eyes, hers narrowingeven though a smile curls her lips, “Try not to ruin it with an ‘I told youso,’ okay?”

“I wouldnever,” Klaus teases, gratified to see her smile widen.

He thinksabout kissing her. Imagines her sharp inhale and grasping hands as sheresponds, softening and crowding closer until they both forget all about thechill in the air. Unfortunately, once again, Mother Nature sees fit tointerrupt a moment.

The lastthing Klaus remembers is a light so bright he has to close his eyes.

He awakenswith a cough and it’s painful, his throat dry and burning. It’s fully darkoutside though the moon is full. Klaus can just make out the splinteredremnants of a trunk where the tree used to be. He’s soaking wet and smells ofsmoke though all that barely registers because his head is pounding. It’s difficult to focus – why in the world is he layingon the ground?

A movement catches his eye and a he remembershe hadn’t been alone. He sucks in another lungful of air and turns his headwith a pained groan, one that’s echoed by Caroline as her hand flutters to herchest. He hears her thick swallow, watches her push her tangled hair from hereyes. She looks confused and Klaus can’t blame her, wincing as he sits up.“What…” her face twists and she coughs, hoarse and hacking, rolling to herside.

Klausreaches out to rub her arm, helps ease her into a sitting position when shequiets. “I don’t know,” he says,answering her unspoken question. He nods to the tree, or the jagged splintered remainsof it. “I suppose the lightning hit the tree? And we were thrown in theimpact.”

“We wereunder a tree during a lightning storm,” Caroline moans, burying her face in herhands. “My girl guide troop leader would kick my ass. Of all the moronic…” Herexpression turns guilty, “Sorry, It’s not like you had time to figure out abetter plan when I fell. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Klaus wavesher apology away, “I know you didn’t.”

“It couldhave been worse, right? We’re both in one piece.”

Klaus’relief grows when she smiled. If Caroline’s managing that sort of optimismalready she must not be injured. “I genuinely did not think the storm was thatclose though, truthfully, I was a bit distracted.”

“By?”Caroline asks with a slightly teasing flutter of her lashes.

“By havingmy lovely roommate so near, of course.” He heaves himself to his feet beforeCaroline can reply, stretching and double checking to ensure all his limbs havea full range of motion. He’s a bit achy but it’s nothing a proper meal and a littlesleep in a warm bed won’t cure. He offers Caroline a hand and she takes it,mimicking his actions once she’s upright. He watches her carefully. “All right,love?”

She nods.“I’ll probably have some nifty colored bruises but everything’s intact.” Shehesitates for a moment before she steps closer, winding her arms around hiswaist in a hug. Klaus draws her even closer, gently, mindful of the bruisesshe’d mentioned, burying a hand into her hair. Her forehead rests against hisshoulder, “I’m really glad we’re okay,” she says.

“As am I.And look, your haunted house survived too.”

“It’ssturdier than it looks,” Caroline mumbles. He expects her to pull away to checkbut she doesn’t, seemingly content where she is. Klaus eyes the structure, thebranches and chunks of tree that litter the ground next to it with somedisbelief. “You’re probably not as stoked that it’s standing,” she teases. “You’restill on candy duty. Wonder Woman can’t face the hungry hoards alone.”

“I’llsurvive,” Klaus tells her dryly. He might even enjoy the experience, because he’scertain Caroline will go all out with her costume. “Shall we go inside?”

Carolinehums and Klaus stiffens when her lips brush his throat, “Yeah. We smell likebarbeque and dirt. Rock paper scissors for the first shower?”

“Deal. Doyou want to order some food?”

“Totally. Ideserve pizza.”

She tanglesher fingers with his as they make their way up the footpath. Caroline casts hima speculative look, “You know, they say near death experiences arelife-changing. That they put things into perspective.”

“Oh? Andhow do you expect your life to change?”

Shesqueezes his hand, “First, I think you should pay for the pizza so we can callthis a date.”

That issomething Klaus can definitely do. “And second?”

Caroline’slips curl, a smirk with a naughty edge that makes Klaus’ interest rise and hisbody tense. “I’m not sure. But I’m open to suggestions.”

He’d wonthe first shower (best two out of three). It might have been more gentlemanlyto have let her win but Caroline wouldn’t respect such a move, as competitiveas she was. He’d rummaged under the sink for his electric razor, figuring hemight as well tidy up a bit since the evening has potential to go somewhat differentlythan his evenings in with Caroline usually go.

If he getsthe opportunity he’d hate for the beard he’s been lazy about tending to chafeany of her delicate skin.

He stripsdown, happy to get out of his wet clothes. Turning to the side he’s pleased tosee that Caroline had been wrong about the severity of the cut on his shoulder.There’s only a thin scratch, and it’s no longer bleeding. He doesn’t even needa bandage nor does the wound hurt when he pokes at it. Klaus is just reachingfor a towel when the door opens and Caroline enters. He hadn’t locked it andshe jumps when she sees him, the door shutting behind her. Her eyes widen andshe flushes prettily, her eyes slamming closed as she turns around. A hurriedexplanation tumbles from her. “I didn’t think you were in here since I didn’thear the water! I was just going to pee but I can totally wait and…” she’spicking up speed and Klaus wraps the towel around his waist. He’s about tointerrupt her (or at least try to) when their very eventful evening gets evenweirder.

Maybe he’dhit his head at some point but Klaus drops the razor as he watches Caroline plowthrough the bathroom door. She’sstill talking, apologizing, but it’s now muffled by the wood.

“Caroline!”he calls, taking several large steps forward. He rips the door open, uncaringwhen it bangs into the wall. She faces him slowly, her lips parted like she’dbeen in the middle of a word. She eyes the door for a long moment, reaches outslowly, “Did I just…” she breathes unsteadily.

“I thinkyou did,” Klaus manages, fighting to keep his own tone even. Caroline’s gonealarmingly pale and if he loses his composure she’ll surely feel worse. Still,it’s difficult to maintain calm. “But how…”

He gripsthe doorframe when she touches the wall, her hand slipping into it, coming out on the other side, once more inside the bathroom while the rest ofher remains in the hall. He hears her breathing quicken, the obvious edge ofpanic in it.

He can’tblame her. He lifts his own hand, presses his palm to hers, pushing hers back untilhis own meets the solid wall. She yanks her arm away and into her chest,cradling like it’s been burned.

“You…” hestarts, trailing off. “Your hand. Through the wall.” He’s never been lessarticulate in his life but his brain is having trouble comprehending what he’djust witnessed. It’s impossible and,if he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes he’d never believe it.

Sheattempts a smile, and there’s a hint of tears in her eyes. “What was that I wassaying about life changing? Becoming a super freak was so not what I meant.”

She blinkshard and Klaus shakes his head, grasping her shoulders firmly, “Don’t say that.You are not a freak. Perhaps it’sjust a fluke.”

Herexpression turns stubborn and she shakes him off and darts forward, easilypassing through the wall and circling behind him. “You were saying?”

Klaus runsa hand through his hair, “We’ll figure this out, Caroline. It’ll be okay.”

“Promise?”she asks, though her chin lifts and he sees a welcome spark of determination.

He doesn’thesitate before answering, “I promise. And I don’t hand those out to justanyone, you know.”

Carolinepresses her lips together and takes a tentative step forward before she laysher hand on his chest, dread flitting across her expression. Klaus holds hisbreath but remains still. The both relax when nothing happens, her palmsettling on his skin. It’s cooler than he’d like and he brings his own hand upto cover hers. “I can touch you,” she says, relief evident.

“Anytime,”Klaus replies, letting his tone dip suggestively. She rolls her eyes, a smallsmile tugging at her lips.

“This is such an inappropriate time forflirting.” As an admonishment it’s weak, particularly when her other hand comesto rest on his stomach. Her eyes fall, tracing over his skin as her hands pressharder. The towel was hastily secured, sits low on his hips and her eyes lingeron it for a long moment. Klaus’ lack of clothing seems to dawn on her andCaroline takes a quick step back, bumping into the vanity. She staresresolutely at a spot beyond his shoulder. “Right. We can’t do this right noweven though I really, really want to.You, shower. I’m gonna call for the pizza and get my laptop. I’ll see if googlehas any entries for post lightning strike weirdness.”

She bustlespast him before Klaus can think of a clever way to lure her back. Perhapsthat’s for the best. They’ve got a pressing matters to deal with, a problem tosolve. He’d promised to help her and it’s not one he’d made lightly. Whateverit takes for her to be okay he’ll do it.

He’s waitedmonths for a sign that Caroline felt something for him he can wait a littlelonger know that he knows that she does. When they do move forward, when he hasher underneath him, flushed and squirming and on edge, he’ll require her full attention.

#Anonymous #klaroline #klarolineauweek #klaroline drabbles #imaginary bonus points for guessing Klaus' power

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