#i went to a proper salon for the first time in a long time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xoteajays · 2 years ago

Note

Try coconut oil.. Not shampoos or conditioners with coconut, actually use coconut oil before washing your hair. Seriously. Coconut oil is just very good for your heath and hygiene - including your skin, hair, nails, teeth and digestion. Coconut oil is really good for everything you may be able to think of for health and hygiene. So just really soak your hair coconut oil before washing your hair with shampoo and conditioners.

Coconut oil would moisturize skin, hair, nails, whiten teeth, helps with digestion. Everything you can think. Do some research on it if you will want to try it. But there are a lot of health and hygiene benefits with a coconut oil product. Just actually try it before you criticize it though.

My maternal grandmother was one of my hairdressers that was really my style became too complicated to keep up with. But... Because she was in and out of the hospital, she eventually had to give up her salon though. She sold her shop to someone who used to work with her but for some reason, that same person (who bought the shop) just hasn't been taking proper care of the shop. Like why even buy this business, if you aren't actually going to run the business the way it should be so that pisses off the family to know. So we have go to different people - we go to different hairdressers, but not from my grandmother's shop.

That's a disappointment.

I would like a new hairdresser besides my mother's friend. She's really a professional hairdresser, but she never seems to do what I asked for my hair though. Like she's too afraid to actually do anything with how my hair is. I don't know. That annoys me. The only reason why I would go their is that I get a huge discount from her, compared to any other hairdressers. If I actually went to another hairdresser, I'd have to really spend hundreds of dollars for my hair. I have long hair so that actually means more products, dyes, shampoos and cuts. That's more money than short hair people. Spending three hundred dollars is ridiculous.

I had similar thoughts before.. My first thought was why have a whole drug factory in Nameless City, where not a single person (besides the one character Shion) knows about this factory. The factory was really loud to not have noticed. I'm assuming Nikaido was living there for so long, maybe his whole life like everyone else. Nikaido's real name was Cain. And it was also mentioned that he actually was an older brother figure towards everyone in Nameless City, especially toward Shion of all people too. So if he did manipulate Shion, unless someone else did then, he might have used his 'brotherly instincts' to manipulate Shion in that way. But I've always assumed Nikaido knew Smoky was sick.

As an introvert, I have never been adopted by extroverts. That I would know of.. I don't think I have. And I would rather keep it that way since most of them have too much energy for me to tolerant. I can't do it.

But I have always thought it was unusual that Ryu's apparently one of the Mighty Warriors, is friends with them. But is barely with them too.

Not including Ice though.

I've been to one club in my life. If you could consider that ever place a club. I was too young to drink alcohol there. Let me explain! Because I was young.. There was kind of a 'ball' inside club, where there was too many different bands playing. Almost like how bars have bands but it was inside a club instead, the bands were real bands not the bands of nobody people. This event happened a couple times a year. So we did going as often as we could. Since we were so young, my aunt actually took my cousins and I most of the time - especially since the club just wasn't in good neighborhoods either. Mostly people for all alternative styles (like emo, goth, punk, cyber styles). Dressing up, listening to all the music if the bands were good. You could buy merchandise in a lot of the little stands. But they had alcohol for adults. And there were so many times where my cousins and I would walk in the restrooms, just to see people people having sex in public restrooms. That's too gross. Don't forget! My cousins and I were young teenagers when any of this happened. So my cousins and I would laugh at people having sex in a public place, that was filthy, in a club like that. So many experiences.

That was the closest to ever being in a club. With the exception of the music in Club Heaven, I hate most music in clubs because I've always never liked that genre of music in my opinion. Strangers grinding on a lot of people, sweaty people. And too many creeps too. I just have the grace of a baby deer. I'm clumsy, I have no rhythm either so I just can never dance. I'm too awkward with dancing. And, like you said, I really wouldn't want to spend money on drinks. Don't get me wrong! I could have drinks. But if I don't like the flavor to the drink, that drink may be wasted unless someone else drinks it. And being a small person, then that also means I wouldn't be able to drink lots of alcohol anyway too.

And sometimes club music is too loud to enjoy. And, if you're really to for some reason, you won't be able to have conversations with people since you can't hear anything. Which could be good or bad. Depends.

If a club like Club Heaven existed, and I don't mean the actual club I'd seen listed online. I mean.. A place were the workers protected any of their customers from harm, and from being harassed. A place where I would be able to enjoy myself (to an extent), I would go there if that is a place that existed. Even if I may be sitting with the White Rascals all night if I'm lucky, maybe converse with any of them if I can. But still.

And as for concerts, I've been to a lot of concerts. Part of me actually misses going to concerts.. But I have no friends to go with. Especially since most avenues in my area are in bad neighborhoods, just like the clubs are. So it's like my parents would allow me to go without people with me either. I know, I know. I'm adult who is still being controlled a lot of the time by my parents (mainly my mother). And I hate that just way too much. But yeah. It might be a while before I can attend some concerts again in some way. Doesn't help that most of the bands that I enjoy listening to have not been coming to America in years lately.

Kizzy is probably part of the problem any time a situation happens to the Rascals. Koo actually deserves a raise after everything he does all the time, Kizzy gets a raise despite not deserving it half the time. But Rocky has to care for his sister friend. Kizzy's so overly melodramatic.

There's this movie I watched before. Called Pet. It's this horror thriller, and the movie stars Ksenia Solo as the main female character (so you would know her from Orphan Black). The movie was an okay movie in my opinion. But I just watched it the other night.. I realized Rocky was going to hate this movie if he watched it with his girlfriend (or wife) as this movie mistreats women. The female is stalked by the guy despite her telling him she isn't interested, with her actual boyfriend cheating on her with her best friend, her being kidnapped, and everything else.

Rocky would hate that movie. And maybe make him angry about it.

Poor Rocky can't caught a break.

I don't know if I would watch Ballerina. Maybe. Because I know... That the movie is a revenge plot. And it's a movie, not a show. So there is a possibility that I might watch the movie at some point. Not right now.

But if the main character is a ballerina, or was a ballerina, then maybe that could help with any of your ballerina characters. Like for Hinami.

So the Ji's character is pretending to be a relative to the gang leader's childhood friend? That's a good way to manipulate someone. Also the wife manipulating him because of his feelings for her. He's so stupid.

This is why women should be in charge.. Not men. They would always think of their dick instead of their brains. Just let this backfire on him.

He deserves it for being so stupid.

I know what I said. I'm not changing my mind either.

i would do that. but i hate putting anything in my hair. i have a whole sensory issue with hair products …… and make up and lotions/creams. i use one non-shampoo/conditioner hair product because it was foisted on me and it’s not even the actual one my hairdresser wanted me to use because i hated even the idea of my hair being crunchy because of hair products.

i might try it, because my hair and scalp does probably does need it. but i really do hate putting stuff in my hair.

god i have absolutely spent more than $300 at a hairdresser’s because i have such thick hair so they have to use extra products. it fucking sucks!

i hate it. i hate nikaido. god if he wasn’t the one actually working the drug lab, he probably told his lackeys to go set up in nameless because he knows it well from growing up there. he probably manipulated more people than just shion. and to know smokey was sick and know why! and be probably used that to manipulate shion! because he knew the boys would be desperate to help smokey!

i had a lot of introvert friends in high school. we kind of broke apart after we graduated, but the one i still have is more on the extroverted side. she really enjoys clubs and stuff, i’ve gone out with her a few times, but not for years now.

i’ve seen pet! so creepy. stalker movies always creep me out. but i do watch a lot of them for exactly that reason.

i watched ballerina! more below about that. the main character actually isn’t the ballerina in the movie, but her best friend who dies was. i enjoyed it tho! the fights scenes were very good. heads up for like. weird bondage stuff tho. idk if it was shown in the trailer, i didn’t watch hat, i just saw jong seo and went ‘yay!’ and added it to my watchlist. but yea. weird - though brief - bondage stuff.

and not to be gay but oh my god. the main character and her friend. there’s no way that wasn’t supposed to be read as at least a little gay. they showed flashbacks like she was a dead wife! the main character said she felt like she was ‘suffocating until she met her’. they were so awkward tomboy x eccentric femme gfs. the friend was such a cutie too.

also jun jong seo looks so good splattered with blood. i love women.

he’s my dumb pretty idiot boy. he’s so gonna get arrested. or killed. i’m just. please. please use your upstairs brain. you’re trusting this new guy too quickly and you shouldn’t be hanging out with this chick who is a cop. please listen to your longtime friends who are literally telling you this!

#tj answers #long post //#long post anon

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie x fem!reader. [vol I]

Summary: just a bit of Eddie’s shenanigans 😈

TW: no minors, angst, mentions of hard times.

W.C: 4.7k

A/N: hope you are all enjoy this! Thank you for all the love received on the first chapter 🥰

You spent the rest of the night questioning why you ever placed the ad in the paper to begin with. Certainly you could just go to sleep and you’d wake up to all of Eddie’s belongings gone because this was a nightmare.. right? Of course. You’d wake up any minute now and things would go back to the way they used to be.

////

Oh how you had hoped.

Eddie wearing your robe was just the tip of the iceberg of the stupid shit he would endure for the next 12 hours. After eating 7 slices of pizza, he wiped his greasy hands down the front of it. Settling for that instead of the arms of the couch after you had scolded him. He talked during the entire episode of The Nanny.

“Holy shit, she’s hot, I mean her voice is kinda nasally but woooowwweeeee.. you think she’s into metalheads? I bet she is. I bet she’d love to be wrapped all up in me, it'd be a secret though for her.” He talked with his mouth full, bits of cheese and pizza sauce flying from his lips and landing on his naked chest. His feet were propped up on the coffee table, toes wiggling like he was a child watching cartoons. “Got any chips? I’m hungry.”

He left a mess wherever he went. The chips he begged you for were still sitting open on the couch. Crumbs decorated the upholstery like confetti at a New Year’s Eve party. His pizza plate on the coffee table, holding an impressive amount of beer cans. Instead of hanging your robe back up on its proper hook in the bathroom, he left it on the floor in between the living room and the hallway. You had gone to bed after he insisted on belching “Love Bites” with three beers tucked between his legs. It was at this moment you thought of begging Steve and Robin to move in with you instead.

“For the last time, I refuse to try to out burp you, I will not be duct taping beers to my hands, and for the love of god if you get salsa on the carpet I will skin you alive.”

“It puts the lotion on its skin….”

You stomp to bed, slamming your bedroom door and throwing the covers over your head. You can hear Eddie slurring through your bedroom walls.

“C’mon Tooooty, I thought we were having a slumber party. You didn’t even paint my nails yet!” His small hiccuping giggles turn into a roar of laughter lasting entirely too long.

The next morning you wake up to your alarm, it’s peaceful, content. Today is a new day and you have a busy schedule working at the salon. Saturdays are easily the most hectic at Josie’s. It seems it’s the only day off for most people to come in and get their hair done. You dress in a simple black tank top tucked into a black mini skirt, a form fitting denim vest over top, and black chunky slide sandals. Spritzing yourself with your Exclamation perfume you just have to brush your teeth and grab a little breakfast.

Upon opening your bedroom door you are hit with a stench so ungodly, it makes the hair stand up on your arms. Did a fucking tornado crash through your home? How hard were you sleeping? You felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz only in reverse, while she was mystified by the sights around her you were full of rage, disgust, and sheer anger.

Eddie.

For fucks sake it is almost as if he needed a goddamn babysitter.

Beer cans litter the floor. A silver ball made of duct tape was sitting on the couch, the small tv was still on. All your VHS’s were scattered along the floor by the entertainment center. A plate of what looked like hardened shredded cheese was balancing on the edge of the coffee table. Rolling papers, and two joints were piled on top of it, along with various baggies of god knows what. Chips were ground into the carpet, their sharp edges making the carpet glitter with nacho cheese and tortilla shrapnel. And sitting opened and probably now dry, was the blue nail polish you had gotten with Robin. The whole place reeked of the dirty rotten scent of spilled stale beer soaking cotton fabric, the remnants of weed wafting from the furniture baking into the fibers from the sun streaming through the windows in lazy strips of golden yellow.

Homicide is probably what? 10 years? You could manage that.

You make your way into the culprits room, swearing under your breath and feeling the sweat start on the back of your neck. Pushing through the heap of clothes and worn boots, you find the prince of trash laying on his back, soft snores escaping his slack mouth. There aren’t even sheets on his mattress, just mountains of his belongings.

A beer is taped crudely to his left hand, your brand new bottle of jergens lays next to him along with a playboy— flipped open to a brunette with obvious fake tits and her lips placed into an orgasm. He apparently threw some boxers on during his midnight raccoon shenanigans.

This is comparable to bringing home a dog from the humane society, you aren’t sure how they’ll act but once you go to sleep— all hell breaks lose.

“Eddie,” you yell, loud enough that your own ears are ringing. He doesn’t move a muscle, just a loud snore erupting from him. You kick at his legs, push his body around but nothing. If it weren’t for the snoring you probably should have called a coroner.

One last slap against his bare chest and he finally groans, “gimme five more minutes baby and I promise I’ll rock your world.” Jesus Christ.

Fuck it, just go to work, you can deal with him when you get home. Breath in and out. Nope— the fuse that was lit in your brain from Eddie’s mess inches its way slowly towards the dynamite, licking up the wick. Also like a dog from the shelter, they need to be trained, told when they are doing something wrong, and immediately corrected.

Filling a cup with cold water you waltz back into his room a smile plastered to your lips.

The splash of water against Eddie’s face is music to your ears as he gasps for breath. Spluttering and sitting up, spilling the beer taped to his hand, he looks like a cat that was thrown in the tub, long curls soaking wet, his bangs parted and thrown back from the force of the water hitting him.

“Damn sweetheart, I said give me five minutes and I’d give you all ten inches of my co—” the plastic cup bounces off of Eddie’s head. “Okay, ow. Goddamn what was that for?!”

“What was that for?! Look around Eddie!” You motion around the house as he stands up holding his head and pressing the palm of his right hand into his eye, dragging it down his face to wipe the remnants of cold water away, “this place is disgusting!”

You begin to list off everything wrong, as you walk around the house, Eddie following begrudgingly behind you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You point out the chips in the carpet, the hardened cheese plate, the vhs mess. Each and everything you show him your voice gets higher and higher and louder and louder. The rage bubbling up in your body as you huff around. A large hand and the odd sensation of a rubbery plastic mass spin you around, holding onto your shoulders.

Eddie’s face is so close to yours, you can see the sun reflecting off the usual darkened browns of his eyes, bringing a goldmine to the muddy surface.

“Tooty— it’s far too early for this shit,” he speaks slowly, the Cheshire Cat like grin on his stupid face spreads across his lips revealing his straight white teeth, “you need to relax a little bit.” He notices the weight of the beer can and tips it back into his mouth, chugging the rest of it and smacking his lips when he’s done. Adding a deafening belch upwards to the ceiling.

You curl your lip in disgust and shove his arm off of you. “What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”

Crossing your arms and taking a step back from him, you take a deep breath, “I don’t know how you lived in the trailer park, and frankly— I don’t give a fuck—but, you will not, make a mess of my house. Either, clean this shit up before I get home from work, or I’ll personally move your crap out to the lawn. Got it?”

His smile fades, and his eyebrows pull together, eyes squinted. The hum of the ceiling fan is the only noise in the house. “Are you threatening me at 7:30 in the morning?” he asks, checking his watch, towering over you. No doubt he is trying to freak you out.

It takes everything in you to not slap him upside the head.

You stand your ground, not letting his carved jaw and mean eyed demeanor get the best of you.

“Damn right I am. I’ll have your shit lying on the lawn like a horrendous Halloween yard sale. Just because the whole town thinks you're some psycho, bastard doesn’t mean I do— you don’t scare me, Munson,” his surname falling from your lips like agent orange, thick and heavy painting the air around you both. Your head held high, eyes glaring back into his. His bravado falters and he also crosses his arms, matching your energy.

“Maybe you should pull the stick out of your ass before it splinters, babe.” Eddie chides back, lips spreading manically across his face.

Neither of you will let the other win, and if you didn’t have to go to work, you would stand here all day arguing with him. You poke a manicured nail into his chest. “You owe me a new bottle of lotion.” With that you push past him and make your way into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“It was either that or the mayonnaise, sweetheart!”

You had always found comfort working at Josie’s. She had taken you on immediately after finishing Cosmetology school at Empire Beauty School in Indianapolis, giving you full time hours and helping you buy your supplies. Nancy had dropped down to part time, working for both the Hawkins Post and cutting hair on the side. Josie was like an older sister to you, and you loved her dearly.

After doing matching perm sets on a mother and daughter, a trim on your regular client, Audrey, and catching up with the latest gossip from Molly about her date that ended with them making out in his car—it was time for your lunch break.

The leftover half of a tuna salad sandwich stared you down from its cellophane wrapper, begging you to ingest the soggy yet stale bread. A stomach ache waiting to happen. Tossing it into the trash, you settle for Marlboro menthols and a Diet Coke. The sun is high in the sky, begging you to enjoy it.

You shed your vest as you sit on the back patio, leaning your head against the neon pink and white striped plastic pool chair lounger, stretching your legs out and kicking off your sandals. You accept the sun’s rays into your skin. Sunglasses poised on your face and a cigarette tucked between your mauve painted lips, you pretend you’re in a movie.

But you’re not— you’re in the middle of Butthole, Indiana. The only exciting thing that happened here was the possibility of hearing the latest town gossip about someone’s cousin, friend, or ex getting knocked up by the high school football star.

You longed for a day off where you and Robin could enjoy the once luxurious but not desolate woods of Lover’s Lake. Nothing but the peaceful breeze to fill your mind and the light rustle of the leaves.

Nancy pulled the blue matching chair up next to you, curling her legs beneath her as you silently pull your lighter from your pocket and hand it to her. A small cloud of smoke dances around your face as she lights her cigarette inhaling deeply.

“Ready for the honeymoon?” You ask her as she inches her way down the seat, a slight squeak to the rubbery plastic as she settles her body in.

Nancy and Jonathan had gotten married two months ago. The wedding was pristine and beautiful in typical Nancy fashion. Her glorious curls in a French twist, soft tendrils framing her youthful face. A pearl colored lace gown billowing behind her and sleeves puffed around her shoulders with dainty lace decorating down her delicate wrists. She looked incredible.

You cried standing beside Holly and El in your peach colored satin gowns, wiping your eyes when they read their nuptials, vowing to be together during sickness and in health. Will, Argyle, and Mike stood beside Jonathan trying like hell to stand upright as the bachelor party spilled into the midnight hours, Mike, paler than usual and Will, drenched with sweat under the beaming lights of the church. Argyle was the only one smiling through the entire ceremony, moving his head to the rhythm of the organ.

Karen had wept and gathered you into a tight hug for helping style the bridal party’s hair that morning, and for being such a wonderful roommate to Nancy. Ted checked his watch every half hour, and kept an eye on the punch which seemingly looked to get darker and darker throughout the night.

Joyce and Hopper held each other close and danced slow to every song played. Their undying love for one another evident on their faces.

A very drunk Murray Bauman hollered obscenities behind the bar, obviously taking advantage of the open bar night as he mixed drinks for the Wheeler and Byer wedding guests, heavy on the liquor. It wasn’t until grandma Wheeler grabbed the mic and started singing Frank Sinatra that someone caught on to Murray’s antics.

You had danced and laughed along with your high school classmates all night, spilling champagne and beer onto the community center floor, the bottom of

Nancy’s dress turned an ugly smoke gray. It was a perfect summer wedding, one that all of Hawkins would be talking about for years to come.

Nancy stretched her back and twisted her neck to look at you, blue eyes peering over round colored lenses, “Yes, I can’t wait to dip my toes in the ocean,” she says beaming, “we’ve been going to the pool pretty often these last few weeks trying to tan Jonathan a little bit so he doesn’t burn like a piece of bread in Cancun.”

A giggle bubbles on her lips as you laugh along with her. “Any luck on finding a roommate?”

You had been dreading this conversation. Originally you had hoped that Erica Sinclair or even Max would maybe want to be your roommate. Sadly they were both either starting college or finishing up their degree this year—Lucas turned down a full ride basketball scholarship to be with Max. Even the boys had places to go. Dustin and Suzy were finishing their summer internships and moving in together—he had plans on proposing after summer’s end. Will lived in Indianapolis, he became a teacher’s aid after finishing his Bachelor’s in Fine Arts, hoping to one day become a professor. Mike and El lived in Hopper’s cabin, tucked deep in the woods. Celebrating being together for almost 10 years. It was quite literally just you— single, and desperate for a roommate.

“Yeah— I uhh— they moved in last night actually,” you said through a wall of smoke nonchalantly. Lighting another cigarette to power through this conversation.

Nancy is picking at her cuticles and flipping through Cosmo as she asks who answered the ad.

A nervous laugh surpasses your lips, “Eddie,” you say in almost a question.

Nancy stops moving entirely. The ash from her cigarette threatening it’s length. She shakes her head and corrects herself, “Sorry, I think I had a stroke… did you say Eddie? As in Eddie Munson?”

You throw your arm over your eyes and slip further into the chair, hoping it would swallow you whole. A groan escapes your lips followed by your confirmation.

“There was no one else! Everyone is off at school, or getting engaged— he was the only one to show up and look at the house! Plus he forked out more cash than I had originally been asking for so obviously he can afford the rent.”

“Probably drug money,” Nancy coughed.

“Honestly I don’t care if he robbed a bank, the money is there and right now—” the threat of what your life could become stings like a wasp in your brain, red ink showing final notice, light switches not working due to the electricity being shut off, before Eddie moved in— you were well on your way to that lifestyle. “that is what matters.”

Nancy huffs in disagreement, taking a breath to settle her nerves. “I don’t know him personally— but just be careful. Wait, wasn’t he friends with—”

“Yup.” You quip, tight lipped and short, “Robin and Steve know him too.”

“That's what I had thought, well at least he’s not like, a total stranger then.”

Nancy listens intently to the horrors of the past 24 hours at the house she once lived in. Twisting her wedding ring around her small fingers, she had never been more thankful to be married.

The work day ended later than you had hoped, a last minute client showed up begging for a “quick perm” — as if there were such a thing. You waved goodbye as you reminded her of the strict no washing policy when it came to maintaining her curls in place. You sweep the floor in a rush and place your combs and scissors in the blue barbicide. Putting away the perm rods and wiping down the surfaces. Switching over the laundry so at least the towels would be dry by the time you opened on Monday morning.

You were tired and your back felt a little stiff. You shut off the radio, still humming Material Girl, to yourself as you turned off the lights and locked the door.

The drive home was short, your small Ford escort a blur through the streets of Hawkins. You could hear your bed calling you, maybe you’d make yourself a grilled cheese and do some laundry so you wouldn’t have to do it tomorrow. But when you pulled into your driveway you realized you wouldn’t be relaxing at all tonight.

The garage door was pulled open, a makeshift banner with red and black spray painted letters on it spelled out “Corroded Coffin”, a better glance at it and you could see it was the same pattern as your spare bed sheets that you kept in the linen closet. The garbage cans were moved out of the way and tossed into the front yard. Cords from amps and a microphone were plugged into every outlet your small garage could offer. A drum set was in the back beside the shelf that held old paint cans full of lead. The floppy blond haired idiot slammed a Busch Light as he twirled a drumstick in his hand. Two members of the band were head banging along to the guitar solo that Eddie was plucking away at. His fingers moved fluidly over the fretboard. Years of practice evident in the dexterity of his hands. The muscles in his arms tight and flexed, veins protruding around them. There were beer cans scattered all around them. Another dirty thirty, no doubt. Fries were spilling out of empty fast food bags and greasy burger wrappers were littering the ground. The push mower was laying on its side, in the middle of the driveway. The rake snapped in half.

The slam of your car door goes unheard.

The unhinged quirk of your jaw starts to ache as you clench your teeth, stomping towards the garage band. The guitar solo ends just as you get to the garage. They’re all hollering and cheering as Eddie whips his head back, long sweaty strands of his curls whipping around as he tries to catch his breath. Holding the beer at arms length, he pours it into his mouth, light amber colored lager flowing down his chin and the expanse of his neck.

“Fuckin’ told you Jeff,” Eddie says, throwing the beer to the ground at the other guitarists feet, “don’t matter if its been five or fifteen years— I can still play that Master of Puppets solo.” A smug smile spreads across his mouth as he pulls a joint from his back pocket, and lights it between lips.

Jeff swings his guitar off his neck and places it on one of the amps, “yeah, yeah whatever man— you gonna share that or just keep gloating?”

You are standing on the driveway, hands on your hips, weight balancing on one leg, the other straight out, foot tapping in annoyance, waiting for the band of rejects to notice your throat clearing.

“Tooty!” They all yell in unison.

Your expression doesn’t fade. Jaw unhinged, lips pressed together tightly. The icy cold of your stare burrowing into Eddie’s beer and sweat soaked skin, a hazy film around him as he exhales the joint.

“Aww, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He says with fake concern, a smirk curled on his lips, “you mad you missed the jam sesh?” Eddie croons, the tip of the joint goes red as he inhales again and passes it to Jeff, “don’t worry we do this every other night I’m sure you’ll catch the next one.”

The garage fills with echoing drunk laughs and the asshole on the drums hits a ba dum tss. Causing Eddie to choke on his exhale and start a coughing fit. He’s doubled over laughing as he forces the smoke from his lungs.

“Not here you’re not.”

He looks from you to the guys, all four dumbstruck by your words.

“Please tell me, Tooty, why I, a paying resident of this house,” he says, gesturing wildly around him, taking long legged steps towards you, head dipping and turning to catch your gaze, “am not ‘allowed’ to practice with my band, in a garage that we share?”

He’s lowering his head down to you, the ends of his sweaty curls licking your cheeks as he closes the gap between you, rubbing a hand across his chin, that same smirk on his face as always.

“Hmm?”

You let out an exhausted sigh. After a long day at work the only thing you had wanted to do was relax— not deal with Eddie’s antics.

“I’m not going to entertain your little half-witted dreams from middle school on being the next Kirk Hammett— find somewhere else to play rockstar, and get this shit out of here.”

You shove past him and the band as you stomp through the door leading into the kitchen, hanging up your keys. A quick look around made your head spin.

The house looked worse now than it did when you left for work. Dishes piled along each surface on the counters and into the sink, the microwave was open with what looked like the remnants of a spaghetti-o explosion, a beer can pyramid was starting in the living room. A burnt aluminum pan of jiffy pop sat on the stove, charred on the bottom. The trash bag suitcases Eddie had packed his belongings with, were now thrown in between his room and the hallway.

You were fed up with this bullshit, it had been 24 hours and he was already on your last nerve. Dragging both hands down your face in sheer fatigue, you grab a roll of trash bags from under the sink. Walking heavy footed back to the door, making as much noise as possible, you fling open the door, four pairs of wide eyes stare you down as you shake open the garbage bag.

“Here, let me help you because apparently you don’t have any common fucking sense.” You stomp over to Eddie and rip another bag free from the roll and toss it to him.

In the best condescending tone you can muster you explain, “This, is a garbage bag. Oooh, ahhh. Cool right? See? When you are done with something and it’s empty,” you educate the gaggle of degenerates, “you pick it up, and throw it away! Wow.” You demonstrate for them, picking up an empty can of beer and placing it in the bag.

“See how easy that is? Now,” you say turning towards Eddie your eyes lost of any endearment, “Do you think you big boys could handle that? Or do you need written instructions?”

A scoff is heard from behind you, as it’s now your turn to smirk, stomping back up the steps and into the kitchen, slamming the door hard behind you.

Huffing and puffing, you know that the house will never get clean if you don’t do it yourself. You change into a faded Hawkins High shirt and a pair of old worn cotton shorts with paint smears on the hips from when you and Nancy tackled painting the living room last summer, as you set to work on the kitchen. Pulling on a pair of rubber yellow gloves, you make work on cleaning the mess Eddie had made. The soft hum of your kitchen radio plays as Pearl Jam invades the background. You first fill the sink with the hottest water the faucet allowed, dousing the dishes with dish soap. You’re carrying around the garbage can, picking up empty beer cans, cigarette butts, and the charcoal mess of black popcorn on the the stove.

You don’t hear him enter the kitchen, your mind far away to another time, when Nancy lived with you and the only problem she caused was paying rent a week early. He advances towards you and stops in front of you, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath.

“What’s your fuckin’ problem? You can be a bitch to me all you want, but the guys don’t deserve that.”

You set the garbage can down by your feet, a rubber glove shoved into his chest, “If you think I give a fuck about what they deserve, you are sadly mistaken! I deserve to not have my house completely trashed every time I turn my back!”

“I didn’t know I was living in a fucking convent, Sister Tooty.” Eddie argues, proud of his comeback he leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest, “that why you never get laid?”

You roll your eyes, “fucking yourself with a beer can taped to your hand isn’t exactly getting laid, Munson. But keep it up, you won’t be living here for long if you keep acting like a fucking pig!”

“Again, with your empty threats, sweetheart. Isn’t it tiring being so mad all the time— careful, looks Iike you’re already getting wrinkles.” A throaty laugh escapes his mouth and he sweeps his thumb between your eyebrows, trying to joke around and diffuse the tension growing between you both.

You swat your hands at him and pull away, a look of disgust and frustration planted on your face.

“Jesus,” he says irritated, “Harrington told me that your family moved away— didn’t know it was because you’re such a stone-cold bitch.”

Without even thinking, you shove him hard in the chest. He goes crashing backwards, the rest of the cluttered items on the counter cascade to the floor with loud thuds. Your cheeks are heated, and your eyes glisten with tears, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. You look at your socked feet and back up to him. Your lip quivering, head held high.

His expression is stunned, not angry like you thought he would be. A look of worry washes over his face as he realizes he crossed the line. Anger ran its course as he recognizes that he hurt you.

“Ah fuck,” he breathes, putting his head down and shaking his long mane. He looks back up to your face, still steady, not daring to let those traitorous tears fall.

“Tooty, I’m— I’m sorry.”

You pluck off your rubber gloves and toss them to the counter, making a dash to the bathroom and locking the door. Eddie doesn’t hear your crying, drowned out from the shower head as he starts to clean up his mess.

vol iii

—

A/N: thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! If your name is crossed out on the Taglist it means your settings are more than likely set to private and you’re not allowed to be tagged!

Tag list: @tlclick73 @sweetsweetjellybean @bbyhargrove @sidthedollface2 @eddiesguitarskills @manda-panda-monium @luna-munson83 @sinczir @icequeen1371 @stephywxphy @aol19 @munsonzlsvr @2lekk @thirddeadlysin @sevikasblackgf @whenshelanded @b-irock @daleyeahson @alanamarie @ijustwanttoreadsmutttt @emmalee-01 @justsheerfilth1 @mynameismothra @1weirdbitch @emma77645 @aysheashea @kaitlynnlo @micheledawn1975 @iheartyouyou @xladyluna15x @awhoreforeddiemunson @fallinginlovewithqueue @notdeadnotalive @seventhlevelofhell @belleoftheba11 @secretdryrose @harlowsgirl @gloryekaterina @veravee-blog @leahjean @Ifaewrites @amestbr @lunatictardis @munson-blurbs @corroded-hellfire @agentmarvel @ghost-proofbaby @jo-harrington @abibliophobiaa @josephfakingquinn @bimbobaggins69 @loveshotzz @jadequeen88 @joejoequinnquinn @divamatrixx @myosotisa @boomhauer @br0ck-eddie @avalon-wolf

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #Eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x f!reader #roommate!eddie #roommate!eddie munson

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memphisbluesagain · 2 years ago

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Pattie Boyd 1961-1962 (Elizabeth Arden, Cherry Marshall and Norman Parkinson)

I couldn’t find much detailed information about lovely Pattie from 1961-1962, so I decided to put together this long form post. Please, do let me know if I’m missing anything. Thanks!

- June 1961, Pattie leaves school with three GCE O Level passes and is living at home in Wimbledon, with her single mother and four siblings

- Late 1961, Pattie’s mother pulls some strings and gets her daughter a job at the Elizabeth Arden hair salon in London

“After school, I got a job at Elizabeth Arden in Bond Street, London - because I wasn’t qualified to do anything and my mum knew the CEO there.” - Pattie Boyd (December, 2022)

- In the new year, Pattie moves to London and begins working as a ‘shampoo girl’ / ‘trainee beautician’ on a small wage of £4.50 per week - which roughly translates to £97.53 as of 2023

“I thought: ‘I must get out, I must try and be independent’ - so I got a job and shared a flat with about five other girls.” - Pattie Boyd (December, 2022)

“I shampooed people’s hair and took their coats. I was a general dogsbody, but I must say that it was terribly glamorous because it was where I first saw fabulous magazines - like Vogue, Tatler and Harper’s Bazaar.” - Pattie Boyd (December, 2022)

“The job at Elizabeth Arden was deadly boring. I was training to be a beautician, but my heart wasn’t in it and I’m not sure I would have made the grade. Elizabeth Arden herself came in one day and berated me for my makeup. She didn’t like the black pencil under my eyes; it was not the ‘Elizabeth Arden’ look, she informed me.” - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

- Early 1962, Pattie had been working at the salon for roughly two months, until a Cherry Marshall Model Agency staffer took a special interest in her look

“A client who worked for Honey magazine asked me if I’d ever thought of becoming a model.” - Pattie Boyd (December, 2022)

“Imagine my excitement when a client came into the salon one day and asked if I had ever thought of being a model. I said: ‘No, but I certainly could.’” - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

- The following day, Pattie was scheduled for a test shoot

“When I arrived, she had arranged for her in-house photographer, Anthony Norris, to take some test shots of me. He had set up some lights in a little studio and she gave me a couple of outfits to wear - I remember a beret and having to look sultry, smoking Gitanes. [a French brand of unfiltered cigarettes] They were black and white, moody shots, with a bit of a Parisian feel.” - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

- Anthony Norris sends Pattie along to a secretary at Cherry Marshall Model Agency and a personal meeting with Cherry Marshall herself is arranged - Pattie was signed to a modelling contract the very same day

“A successful model has just got to be strict with herself and lay off all fattening foods. That means no bread, butter, spaghetti or sweets! Watch out for ‘puppy fat spread’ - eat proper meals at regular times, with lots of lean meat and green vegetables.” - Pattie Boyd (April, 1965 - Letter from London)

“My fairy godmother phoned Cherry Marshall, who then ran one of the top model agencies and she said she was sending me to her. Anthony Norris went with me and told Cherry he thought she should take me on.” - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

“My secretary brought Pattie’s picture into me and told me Pattie was waiting outside. ‘I’ll see her’ I said - and there was Pattie, a shy 17-year-old who when she spoke, bubbles with impish charm. It would have been a mistake to change a thing about her. All we needed was to groom her rebellious hair and slim down her puppy fat. She started training immediately, the following Monday.” - Cherry Marshall, 1964

“She was shy until she started talking and then she bubbled over with enthusiasm, as she spoke of her ambition to be a model: ‘I know I’m a bit plump - but I can’t stop eating sweets!’ I said: ‘Pattie, from now on you cut out all sweets - and I want you to report on Monday at the school for training’. I wanted her rebellious hair groomed into a straight gleaming bob and she had to be taught how to apply photographic make-up. Nothing else should be changed. The name was right, the look was right and it would have been crazy to do anything to subdue her sparkling personality.” - Cherry Marshall, 1978

- Pattie attends Cherry Marshall’s modelling school - graduating within three short months

“So that’s the advice that I’d pass on to all of you who dream of becoming models: train at a school that has proved itself - not just one of those places that give you a paper diploma and nothing else - and don’t try to sell yourself when you have qualified. Let your agent do that.” - Pattie Boyd (April, 1965 - Letter from London)

- Pattie attends test shoots and works to build her portfolio - unpaid

“I knew I had a winner - everyone in the office agreed with me and they immediately swung into action. New pictures were taken, photographers and magazines informed, casting agents bombarded, press alerted. Here, we told them with absolute confidence that Pattie Boyd was the girl for the swinging sixties.” - Cherry Marshall, 1978

“Finding an agency was easy; finding a job was the hard part.” - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

“We were too experienced to expect things to happen overnight, but we were impatient because Pattie was already seventeen and that wasn’t the youngest anymore. All we needed was to get one top photographer mad about her and she was made, but few of them would risk using an absolutely new girl on a job. They’d take test shots to find out what she was like and give her pictures for her portfolio, but no money. It was invaluable experience, but Pattie had to earn her living and we didn’t have much time.” - Cherry Marshall, 1978

“My agent would phone me last thing in the afternoon and tell me my jobs for the next day and my diaries would be quite full. But not to begin with - I had to work quite hard, going around to photographer’s studios and showing them my portfolio.” - Pattie Boyd (December, 2022)

[Rayment Kirby, 1962]

“Everyday I would go out with a list of photographer’s names and addresses and trudge around with my portfolio, hoping they would like what they saw and use me on a job. And if one did, I would try very hard to get him to give me some prints at a low rate, so that I could add them to my portfolio. I must have travelled on every bus and tube in London and when I was out of money, I walked. My diary for those days is full of IOUs for the odd fiver.” - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

“Within three months her diary began to fill up and she (Pattie) was in constant demand.” - Cherry Marshall, 1978

“If I had a job, I had a big, tall bag - no wheels in those days - with dark shoes, light-coloured shoes, all sorts of jewellery, wigs and hairpieces.” - Pattie Boyd (December, 2022)

“I was lucky. The trekking around worked and soon my diary was full of jobs. Modelling was fun. I loved trying on clothes and fiddling with my hair and makeup. We had to do it ourselves - there were no hair stylists or makeup artists and certainly no chauffeur-driven cars to ferry us around. We were not celebrities in the way that today’s top models are. For advertising jobs, we even had to bring our own accessories. I have my old appointment diaries about what I had to take to a shoot. Usually, it was light and dark court shoes, flatties, gloves, costume jewellery, hats or caps, boots, makeup, wigs and hair pieces. You could spot a model a mile off from the heavy bags that she was carrying.” - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

“I went on to do lots of lovely shoots, although I never enjoyed posing for Freeman’s catalogues. They’d book you in for three or four days in a row, which meant lots of money, but the clothes were hideous and far too big - they had to have clips on the back.” - Pattie Boyd (December, 2022)

“I rang Norman Parkinson, the king of them all - and asked if he’d see her. A model had to be really good before he could be approached, particularly as he was not impressed by an agent’s idea of who was photogenic. We knew that, superficially, Pattie had certain drawbacks - she was un-modelly in the accepted sense, her face was too round and she had a gap in her front teeth. She came back to us in tears, eyes swimming with disappointment, all set to give up. She finally blurted out: ‘He asked me if it’s fashionable these days to look like a rabbit!’” - Cherry Marshall, 1978

“One day I went to see the great Norman Parkinson. He looked at my book, then looked at me and said: ‘Come back when you’ve learned how to do your hair and makeup properly’ I felt so humiliated.” - Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

“Seeing myself in magazines was so exciting. I couldn’t wait to show my mother and she was totally amazed, saying: ‘How on earth did you do that?’ - she had no idea that I’d been trampling the streets trying to get jobs and hopping on buses and trains to persuade photographers to take pictures of me.” - Pattie Boyd (December, 2022)

- Late 1962, Pattie began working for Honey magazine, which led to many other opportunities...

I will try to make a Pattie Boyd 1963-1964 long post soon! :)

#pattie boyd #pattie harrison #pattie clapton #1961 #1962 #i tried lol #elizabeth arden #norman parkinson #jean-claude #cherry marshall #swinging sixties #london #vintage #mod #pattie boyd archive

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soulkeeper801 · 3 years ago

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They don’t know about us pt. 3

(A/N: Part 1 | Part 2)

Rosé x F!reader

You’re an idol and Blackpink’s Rosé just wanna have fun.

“Pizza?” you grinned at her as she opened the door.

Rose grabbed you by your collar and pulled you in for a kiss.

It had been almost a year of you sneaking into her apartment to spend a few hours without anyone noticing. It all started feeling so familiar for the both of you: the long stares, the whispers, the soft moans while making out. You knew her entire body by heart.

“You had people over?” you asked as you saw bags on the counter at the kitchen.

“Yeah, the girls were here in the morning. I told them I had an appointment at the salon so they would leave”, she smiled softly encircling your neck with her arms pulling towards her. “And now I can have you all for myself”.

You deepened the kiss, grabbing her by her hips. She moaned at the roughness.

“Pizza will get cold,” she pouted. “Let’s eat first?”

You nodded and brought her to the table so you could eat.

“I really like spending time with you,” she said in a whisper, not making eye contact.

You smiled. “So do I,” you replied. “Sometimes I wish I could take you out on a proper date”.

Her gaze met your eyes. Confusion, nervousness but mostly fear.

“I-I don’t mean to put any pressure on you, baby. I’m just thinking out loud”, you replied hurriedly. “Sorry, let’s just eat, alright?” you said, caressing her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m a jerk that just wants to sleep with you and that’s it,” she said, her gaze fixed on the table. “I really like you. I do. And I want to be brave with you”.

A smile grew slowly on your face as she inspected your expression trying to read your mind.

“Let’s be brave for each other”.

As you cuddled on the couch, little pecks lead to deepened kisses and there she was straddling your waist one more time making you gasp under her touch.

“I love how you sound, Y/N,” she growled as you shut your eyes closed since her kisses went down to your neck. She nibbled and licked, making you lose control.

“I-I love you”.

Time froze in a second and Rosé stopped moving.

You fucked up.

How could you be this careless to let your real feelings flow out like this? What were you thinking?

“I’m sorry,” you abruptly said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that”.

She avoided making eye contact with you as she sat up straight when her phone rang.

She picked up, “Hello?”, she said, still on top of you.

Her eyes widened. “What?!”

Silence.

“No, no. Of course you can come to my place right now, Lisa”.

You were confused for a moment. Was she going to introduce you to her friend? Was this what being brave was? Weren’t you going to talk about what just happened?

She hung up. “Lisa is coming here, says she needs to use the restroom”, she sighed and whined. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but you have to go. She doesn’t know you’re here”.

Your heart broke.

“Aren’t we going to talk about what happened?”

“Not now, please… We will but not now…”

As you were still processing everything, the bell rang.

Rosé gasped. “Fuck, it’s her”, she whispered. “Get in my room. Wait there until I tell you to come out”.

“Are you seri-”

“Please, we don’t have time!”

You did as she told you and waited in her room. From there you could still hear them.

“What took you so long?” Lisa asked with a mischievous tone.

“Nothing, I was just in my room”, Rosé answered nervously, “go use the bathroom. It must be an emergency if you’re coming here…”

Lise stayed in silence for a few seconds. “Were you with someone here?” she asked.

“What?”

“You took a long time to open the door, your hair looks kinda messy, you seem a bit nervous…”

Rosé chuckled trying to hide her nervousness, “what? go use the bathroom and stop the nonsense!”

Lisa laughed out loud.

After a minute, Rosé opened the bedroom door. “Please go, while she’s in there”.

You didn’t even look at her and made your way out.

Once outside you felt like crying. Why did it have to be this difficult? You roamed around until you found a cafe where you could stay for a while. You couldn’t go back to your dorm since you lied to your team and told them you were going to be outside of town for a photoshoot. It didn’t seem worth it at this point. All the lies, all the excuses. You thought it was all leading to something. You loved Rosé, more than you wanted to admit but at that moment you were lost.

You took the furthest seat in the place you found and took a sip of your coffee. You needed to ease your mind, think about anything else. Yet your mind kept going back to her face, her touch, her voice. How you wished you could brag to the world that she was yours and you were hers. But was she really yours? She wasn’t even willing to introduce you to one of her friends. Not even as a friend. You were confused, heartbroken and alone.

“Y/N?” a voice you recognized immediately asked.

You lifted your head and saw her standing right in front of you.

“I wasn’t sure about coming to say hi since you look like you have a lot on your mind right now”, she said nervously. “But at the same time I wanted to make sure you’re okay. And the best way to do that is to come here and drink a coffee with you,” she said, smiling at you.

You smiled back.

“Thank you, Sana”, you said sincerely. “Please, take a seat. It’s been a while since the last time we met”.

She sat down and nodded. “It has. So… you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but you can tell me about you. Or I can tell you about me, your choice.” she grinned.

And it made you smile again.

“Well, this is exclusive information, but my group is preparing for a new album this year,” you said and she clapped excitedly. “We’ve been in the studio a lot for the last month…”

As you kept speaking, you noticed her whole attention was on you. She listened carefully to what you were saying and at that moment you felt grateful she was there with you.

Part 4

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gentrychild · 4 years ago

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I wish you would write a fic where... Fuyumi dyes her hair pink

Fuyumi left the Himura house so furious that she couldn’t think straight. Dry ice followed her every step and she hoped that her uncle, so devoted to their grandparents, would step on it and break a leg.

“Fuyumi, what’s wrong?”

“She is a beauty, just like her mother.”

She kept walking, too enraged to dare to look back at him because something was going to happen. Something that could land her into Tartarus if she made eye contact, because right now, she hated him. She hated her grandparents. And she hated herself.

How could she not have seen that coming?

Her grandmother, telling her to please visit, because her health wasn’t so good and seeing her granddaughter would surely make her feel better.

Only to find both her grandparents, her uncle, looking in perfectly good health while they were sitting next to her suitor, a man that was looking for a bride with the right quirk.

“She has a very strong ice quirk. Almost too strong, if that can exist.”

“If it upset you so much, why didn’t you say so?”

Because she had been too stupid to make a scene She hadn’t dared to react, to show their dirty laundry to a stranger, and now, she was running because the anger had been rising and rising and she was afraid it was either going to eat her alive or explode.

“She is such a good cook and she loves children. She is a teacher, after all.”

“You know how grandparents are! They just want you to be happy. And he is a very nice man…”

Her uncle finally caught her – her short legs be damned – and he grabbed her arm.

“She has two brothers and she took such good care of them.”

Fuyumi raised her hand to bat away her uncle’s hand and the next thing she knew, her palm was colliding with her uncle’s cheek. The noise was akin to a lightning strike, her palm started to burn but her uncle’s expression was worth it.

He looked at her like she has gone mad, like he was afraid of her. Like he was just realizing that her quirk was far stronger than his and that the Himura name is half forgotten while the Todoroki name is known through the whole country and abroad.

“Tell your parents that they don’t have a granddaughter anymore. I am done chasing a mirage. Do not call me. Do not try to contact me. And help me, if you ever tried to use contact Shouto or even Natsuo, I will burn everything you hold dear, consequences be damned.”

Whatever was on her face or in her voice, he seemed to believe her.

After that, she went straight home, just holding the rest of her anger, repressing it like she had done all her life. She could do this. Now that she had cut away all ties with her grandparents (really, she was the last one, her brothers hadn’t seen them in ten years), maybe, just maybe things would get better?

She reached her room and took a deep breath, imagining a red cloud leaving with the air she was exhaling. As she did, she felt the anger leaving.

Until her phone rang.

Grandmother was the caller ID.

From that point, things became really simple but slightly chaotic. And loud. Loud enough for someone (she wasn’t sure who) to knock on her door, then knock some more. For said door to be opened then closed in silence.

Her phone met an unfortunate end as it crashed into the wall hard enough to be thoroughly shattered. Other things followed, most of them trinkets offered by her grandmother. Then came the clothes, that needed to be ripped until nothing remained. And finally, various things needed to be frozen solid.

By the time she was done, she felt better. She tied her hair into a ponytail, cleaned her room, and when she walked out of her room, she realized that her father and her brothers probably were in the house.

Maybe they didn’t notice?

She put one foot one foot on the living room and saw the three of them avoiding eye contact. Her father was reading the newspaper, something she had never seen him do. Shouto was also reading but his manga was upside down. And Natsuo was in the kitchen, making tea.

The tea was disgusting infused for too long, but they all drank it. She mentioned that she needed a new phone and her father immediately gave her one, registered to his agency but it would do in the meantime. And Shouto talked about his life in the dorms.

No one mentioned anything about Fuyumi’s outburst.

All in all, the day ended pretty well.

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“She is a beauty, just like her mother.”

Even with her immediate family being extremely considerate (or scared of her but she was fine with both) and her grandparents’ phone numbers blocked, her grandmother’s words kept following her. Enough for her to start avoiding mirrors again, something she hadn’t done since her teenage years.

Her first impulse was to cut her hair. She had never worn it short and that seemed like enough of a drastic change.

Until she remembered what her mother looked like when she had gotten married.

Hair dye it was, then.

She went to the salon thinking black. It was proper, neutral, and a hair color she could handle.

And yet, somehow, when she came out, her hair was pink.

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“It suits you.”

Those words quickly replaced her grandmother’s words. She heard it from her family, her coworkers, and her friends. She had more of the latter those days, as she spent less time at home and learned to be more her and less the eldest Todoroki daughter that was supposed to take care of everyone.

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

“You look happier.”

She didn’t feel like she was happier. She felt angrier than before. She felt more melancholic. And less patient.

But she did feel more. And smiled more.

So maybe it meant something.

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“You’re not taking that call?”

“No, I guess I’m not.”

“Good for you.”

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“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for this family. Back then, I didn’t realize it but you’re the reason we managed to fare so well.”

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“You’re incredible. I hope you know that.”

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Slowly, more words were added to the ones that were haunting her. It didn’t replace them. She doubted that they would ever disappear.

But they took more place, until it was the first thing she thought about.

#quirk marriage #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #ask game #deer deity #my writing

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

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Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit.

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience.

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it.

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others.

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism.

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve.

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place.

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire.

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

#yandere #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you

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bonky-n-steeb · 4 years ago

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𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝐸𝑆𝑇 𝐷𝐴𝑌

𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧: doctor!reader has no clue that Bucky is a secret agent and she soon finds out.

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: Fluff, minor angst.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

MASTERLIST

Bucky was finally back from his business trip. He had been gone for two whole weeks and you both had missed each other terribly.

Today he had decided to make it up to you, and had taken a day off from his work, and so had you. Instead of a simple date, you both had decided to spend the entire day idly roaming around the city. It was a nice reprieve from all the stress that came with being a surgeon.

While walking, you stopped in front of your favorite boutique. The dresses there were expensive but chic and you were friends with the owner and designer, Maria. Whenever you wore one, you used to turn all the heads in the room. Currently there was no special occasion coming up, and you already had enough of the dresses so you decided to window shop.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Bucky asked. “Buck, I already have so many of the dresses and I don’t need another one as there is no special event coming up anytime soon.”

“My doll doesn’t need a special occasion to look good.” He said kissing your temple. “Buck...” you tried to protest but he nevertheless dragged you in.

“Welcome! And congratulations you are our lucky customers.” You looked at her dumbstruck, Maria wasn’t a person to give any discounts. “Lucky customers?” You asked.

“Yes, today is the 7-year anniversary. And we had agreed that the first person to walk in the boutique would get 75% off on any dress of their choice.” She said with an infectious smile.

“75% off? On any dress?” You squealed. You looked up at Bucky and he gave you his signature smirk. You were a sucker for sales. As you looked around, your eyes were captivated by a dress. It was maroon, with long bell-shaped sleeves. It had a V-shaped neckline and was a flowing gown.

“You like that one doll?” Bucky asked as he saw you staring at the gown. He knew you would like that one. “Yes. I love it.” You said excitedly. “Alright then, pack it.” In your excitement you failed to notice the understanding nod shared between Bucky and Maria.

You were super excited and were talking nonstop. That was one of your traits when you got excited. You couldn’t believe you walked in at the right time, and the credit was Buck’s, he was the one who dragged you in. You couldn’t believe your luck.

The next you decided to visit the bookstore you usually frequented. The moment you entered, the book store clerk, Simone happily waved at you as if she was waiting just for you.

“I have something for you.” She said as she bent down and produced a book. It was your favorite one. “Open it. It’s a signed copy.” You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your favorite author had signed that book along with a sweet message scribbled just for you. “Oh my goddddd!!”

You couldn’t believe that this day was even real. “Bucky, I don’t know what is happening today, but it’s already the best day of my life.” You squealed and he pulled you closer to him, “It’s definitely the best day of our lives.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

After around an hour later, your beauty salon lady called up and informed you about her latest offer. And so, you decided to give her a visit while Bucky went home. Once you were done, you were looking exquisite.

You were too euphoric to notice all the coincidences. Everything was perfect until you went home. Bucky face was worried. “What happened? You look worried.”

“It’s Nat’s birthday today. We both forgot. Don’t worry, Steve has arranged a party. So now let’s get dressed and go.” Nat and Steve were Bucky’s colleagues and best friends.

You knew this universe was giving you signs. After all the shopping you did, it was worth it. You decided to wear the new elegant dress.

When Bucky saw you and his jaw dropped. He himself was wearing an expensive navy-blue suit. “I swear to god, if it weren’t so important, we would’ve never left this house.”

Once you reached the location, you were surprised to find no one was there and it was completely dark. But then a sudden focus of light was out on where you stood with Bucky.

Just then Bucky got down on his knees and produced a velvet box. “Will you make me the luckiest man alive by marrying me?” He looked flustered and scared. Without thinking twice, you squealed “YES!”

Apparently, Bucky had already bought that dress for you, there was no offer at Maria’s. Also, he had arranged for the signed copy and the salon well. He just wanted it to be the best day of your life in all sense.

———

Maybe you had been wrong. It had been a week since your engagement, but today was the best day of your life.

After learning the news, you had been euphoric. You wanted to tell Bucky as soon as possible, but he was too busy today and you knew better than to disturb him.

Before going home, you decided to celebrate a little and went to the nearby cafe. You ordered your favorite pastry and sat at one of the tables.

Suddenly there was a small pat on your shoulder. You turned around and saw the last person you expected in this cafe. “Tony?”

Tony Stark was a billionaire. Despite having all the money in the world, his heart wasn’t as healthy. And that’s when you came in. When he had first come in due to an emergency, you had treated him and ever since then he had become your patient.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked as he took the seat in front of you. “Having some coffee, I guess.” He said shrugging. And then his eyes fell on your ring.

“Woah! I see someone is engaged. Didn’t think you’d break my heart so ruthlessly.” He said pretending to be hurt. You excitedly nodded, “Just a week before.”

“Well, so who is the lucky man?” He asked. “Bucky Barnes.” You said smiling giddily. “I’m sure he must not be more handsome than me.” Tony quipped.

“You’ll be disappointed!” You took your phone out and showed him a picture of Bucky. Tony squinted his eyes and took your phone into his hands. “This is Bucky?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Why?” Tony seemed confused and then pulled out his own phone. “As long as I remember, his name is Andrew and he is already married.” Your eyes widened at that.

“What? You just be mistaken. Are you sure it’s him?” Tony nodded. “Yeah, see this. I met him around a week ago, that’s why I remember. Not gonna lie his wife, Sonya was impressionable.”

He said giving you his phone. There was a picture of Tony and a couple. You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was indeed Bucky, and the worst part was, his ‘wife’ was none other than Nat.

~~~

You were sitting on your couch and crying when Bucky came home. “What happened?” He quickly kneeled on the floor besides you.

“I’m gonna only ask once, because I can’t emotionally afford to ask twice; what is going on between you and Natasha?” You ask, your eyes were blood red and puffy from all the crying.

“What?” Bucky took your hands in his and pressed kisses. “Don’t lie, I know everything. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“I don’t get what you are saying, doll.” You took out your phone and showed him the pictures Tony had sent you. At that Bucky scoffed, “Oh this!”

“Oh yes Andrew! What the fuck is even your name you liar!” At that Bucky’s demeanor grew serious. “Listen, it’s not what you think. Wait right here.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and went upstairs.

“See this.” He said running downstairs and giving you a file. “And what is this? Your marriage certificate?” You asked incredulously. “Just read it once please.”

You took it and started reading. First it didn’t make sense but after some time it did. Bucky was an agent working for a secret government organization called ‘Avengers’.

“What is this Bucky?” He slowly started wiping your tears. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long now. But I always thought that I’ll tell you tomorrow; but turns out tomorrow never came.

I know you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so this is the proof. My own file. I’ve worked as an Avenger for years. That day at Tony’s party we were undercover. And we pretended to be married. The ‘two weeks business trip’ was actually an undercover mission.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Bucky seriously! You couldn’t tell this to me before? Do you know what I’ve felt in the past two hours? I literally found out in the worst way possible, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” He pulled you closer to him and pecked you on your cheek. “This was some True Lies level shit.” You said laughing.

“So... now that you know this, I might as well confess something more.” You raised your eyebrows and wondered what all news today’s day was going to bring.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” You nodded, you remembered that day very clearly.

It had been an excellent day. Your surgeries had gone perfectly but you were tired. So, you decided to do what you did every time you had a good day; go and eat a pastry.

As you entered the cafe, you could see the pastry section to be completely empty. You pouted and were sad to break the tradition. You inquired but they weren’t going to make any more pastries for the day.

As you were about to turn around and leave, you came face to face with the most handsome man you had ever met, his eyes were so captivating, you feared you’d get lost in them.

“I saw you wanted a pastry, well, I guess I have one and you can have it.” His voice was smooth and you swooned. “Uh, no it’s fine.”

“Oh, I insist.” You looked up at him and gave him a pleasant smile, “Why don’t we share?” You asked shyly. You spent the entire evening chatting and decided to meet the next day for a proper date. And that is how you had met.

“It wasn’t actually my first time. I had seen you before that at the hospital but I was undercover and so I couldn’t approach you.

But then I just got too shy to ask you out so I used to follow you around. I didn’t mean to creep or stalk. I just... God! This is embarrassing. But I kind of learnt your routine and habits.

I knew when you had a good day you would go and have a pastry at the cafe. That day before you went in, I bought all of the pastries. So, when I asked you whether you wanted to have mine; I actually had at least 23 pastries with me.”

You giggled at that. “Wait you are not mad?” You shook your head. “Actually, I would’ve been, but now that I know how you are, and that I love you so much, this is actually pretty cute.”

You stopped laughing and said, “Well, now that you’ve shared your secrets. I’d like to share something too. I fear I won’t be able to love you in the future as much as I do now.”

Bucky tensed up. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked adorable. “Because when a mini version of you will be running across the house, I swear to god I won’t be getting any reprieve.” You said snuggling him.

“I... what? Are you? Wait, is it what I’m thinking it is? Are we pregnant?”

“YES! You’re gonna become a daddy, James!”

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot

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bellebridgerton · 4 years ago

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Favor: Chpt 8 (Chubby!Bucky x Y/n)

Taglist: @jeeperky @silentkiller2374

✨Last Chapter✨

Bucky's POV

Sitting in a chair at the salon I know (Y/n) goes to, I watch my hair get cut and fall to the floor. It's time to be different, more confident, for myself and for her. My long hair was part of a dark time for me mentally, I need to shed it.

I make small talk with the nice lady cutting my hair. She cuts my hair and glances at me through the mirror, "You look familiar, have you been here before?"

I chuckle, "No, I don't think so."

She smiles softly, "You sure? I'm positive I've seen your face before."

I think about it for a moment, "My best friend comes here to get her hair cut, I might have popped in for a second for her, but other than that, no."

Her smile widens, "Is she yay high," she holds her hand up to roughly (Y/n)'s height, "big doe eyes, kinda bouncy?"

I laugh, "Yeah, that's her."

She nods, cutting my hair, "(Y/n)'s a sweet girl. Oh now I know! She showed me a picture of you! Told me all about you. I'll tell you what sweetie, you need to snatch her up before someone else does."

Sighing, I look at her through the mirror, "That's why I'm here, I thought getting my hair cut, since I let it grow out during all this last almost two years, this might help me feel more confident to actually ask her out."

The beautician nods, finishing up with my hair, "Honey, I think you stand a very good chance at winning her over."

After fixing my hair a little, I knock on (Y/n)'s apartment door. I know she's probably in bed, curled up, watching some sort of superhero movie.

(Y/n)'s POV

There's a knock at the door, groaning, I pause Bridgerton and walk out to the living room, opening the door.

Bucky, with short hair, is standing before me.

My hands immediately fly to his hair, "You cut your hair!" I'm not sure how to feel about it, he's always handsome, but I liked the long hair, not that the short looks bad.

He rubs my back, moving us more into my apartment, closing the door behind him. He smiles, "What do you think?"

I look up at him, "You're always handsome, but why the sudden change?"

He shrugs, "I needed a change. Plus I want to look good when I take you out."

Smirking, I play with his newly short hair, "You're taking me out?"

He blushes, his hands on my hips, "I want to take you out on a date, a proper first date. Last night was amazing and I wouldn't take it back for anything, but you deserve to be taken on nice dates."

I kiss his cheek, then pull back to look up at his beautiful blue eyes, "I'd love to go on a date with you."

He grins and rubs my back, kissing my forehead, "I love you, doll."

I melt into his embrace, "I love you too, Sarge." Trailing kisses up his jaw, to his cheek, I land on his lips, he immediately kisses back, his grip on me tightening a little.

As we have to pull back from the kiss, he smiles down at me, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Grinning, I nod, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to ask me that."

He laughs, "You have no idea how long I've dreamed of being able to call you mine."

We stumble back to his apartment, Bucky opens the door and we practically fall in.

Steve walks over, he chuckles, "What have you two been up to?"

Bucky smiles, "We went out, very tired." I nod, my head on his chest, getting comfy in the entryway of their apartment. He rubs my back, "Come on, doll, let's get up."

I nuzzle my face into his shoulder, " 'm comfy here with you."

He chuckles and picks me up with ease, "Bedtime, my love."

I wrap my legs around his waist and drape myself over him, "Carry me?"

He carries me to his room, he waves to Steve and Natasha, "Goodnight." Bucky gently lays me on his bed, taking my shoes off of my feet for me.

Bucky's POV

Placing (Y/n)'s shoes on her side of the bed, I hear a knock on the door, "Yeah?"

Natasha pokes her head in, "Hey, how was your day?"

I turn around to face her, "It was great, I got my hair cut, took my girlfriend out on a nice, long first date."

Natasha giggles, "She's your girlfriend finally?!"

I smile, "Yeah, she's mine, all mine."

She smiles, "Congrats Bucky, don't mess it up, she's a special one."

I nod and chuckles, "I know, someday she'll be my wife and mother of my children."

Natasha laughs softly, "I better be the godmother."

Looking at her, I smile, "So you and Steve, huh?"

She blushes and waves her hand at me, "Shhh! We're just having fun!"

I laugh, "Yeah, uh huh, we'll see." I can tell Steve is smitten with Natasha and vice versa.

Natasha playfully rolls her eyes and walks out, closing the door behind her.

(Y/n) speaks up, "Wife and mother of your children, huh?"

Turning around, I blush, "I mean, only if you want to, eventually." I didn't want her to feel any pressure.

She sits up in bed and smiles, "Of course I do."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in, climbing into bed with her. She cuddles into me, my hand rests on her back. I kiss her forehead, "You'll be an amazing mom."

She looks up at me and grins, "I know, my love."

Epilogue: 2025

(Y/n)'s POV

"Aurora! Stop it! Uncle Tony is busy, baby," I pick up my curious toddler so she stops getting in my uncle's way.

Tony chuckles, "It's alright dear, she's very funny, like her mother."

I smile, holding Aurora on my hip, "She's also a handful."

Tony laughs, "So were you when you were a kid."

Bucky walks over, "Hey doll, do you know if Nat's ready?" He kisses my cheek, then Aurora's, "Hey monkey, wanna come to Daddy?"

Aurora goes to Bucky enthusiastically, she's a bit of a Daddy's girl. She cuddles Daddy, "Auntie looks pwetty in her dwess."

Bucky smiles, "So do you, princess." He gently fixes her brunette curls.

I smile at my husband and my daughter, "You two are adorable, I'm going to check on Nat."

Bucky smiles, "Go on, doll, I got this under control."

Walking into the bridal room, I see Natasha in her dress, "You look beautiful Nat."

Natasha smiles nervously, "You're supposed to say that, you're my best friend and maid of honor."

I nod and gently fix her hair a little, "I am, and I'm telling you the truth. Steve's a lucky guy."

She blushes, "I wouldn't have met him without you or Bucky."

I gently wrap my arms around her waist, "Looks like I'm quite the matchmaker. How the turn tables."

Natasha laughs, "You're so weird! I love you!"

I laugh, "I love you too!" I look up at her, "I know today is your special day, but I want to tell you something, not even Bucky knows yet."

Nat grins, "Ooo! Tell me!"

I giggle, "I'm pregnant!"

Nat squeals and giggles, "This is officially the best day ever!"

Standing at the altar, waiting for Natasha to come, I smile at Steve, mouthing, "You got this!"

He chuckles softly and nods, but I could tell he's nervous.

The ceremony was beautiful, I should know, I helped design it.

Bucky walks over to me, he kisses me softly. Kissing back, I cup his cheek in my hand, then I slowly pull back and smile, "Our babies are finally married!"

Bucky laughs and nods, "They look very happy."

Aurora runs towards us, nearly taking out Bucky's knees, "Mommy! Daddy! Can I have cake?"

Swooping Aurora into my arms, I kiss her chubby cheek, "You can have a cookie, the cake hasn't been cut yet."

She grins and nods, happy with the compromise. She plays with my hair while I carry her to the dessert table. Aurora looks at me, "Mommy, I want lille sissy."

I give her a chocolate chip cookie, "You'll have a little brother or sister soon."

Aurora practically beams, eating her cookie.

Bucky finds us, "There's my girls!"

Aurora looks up from her cookie, "Mommy says I gonna have lille broder or sissy soon!"

Bucky smiles, raising an eyebrow at me.

I blush, "Don't tell anyone yet, it's their day, but yes, I'm pregnant, Buck."

Bucky grins and kisses me deeply, "I love you so much, (Y/n) Barnes."

I kiss back deeply, despite Aurora giggling at us, "I love you too Bucky Barnes, so much."

#favor #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #chubby!bucky x reader #chubby!bucky #chubby!bucky x y/n

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ddeonghwaa · 5 years ago

Text

Can We Fix This? (Jaehyun)

Characters: Jaehyun x reader

Genre: angst, romance

Word count: 5.9k

Hello! This is the sequel of my story “Too Late”. I hope you guys give it lots of love because I’ve been working on it for quite some time! Enjoy!

If you haven’t read Too Late, you can read it here.

“I’ve been really happy for the whole five years of being in love with you, Jaehyun. Thank you for all the memories we’ve shared. I know I’ve done my best for every single moment I had with you in this relationship, so I have no regrets. Regrets… I hope you regret what you did to me and reflect on your actions.”

"I did, I regret my actions so much y/n. Please don’t leave me.”

You shook your head lightly and took a step back away from him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You looked at him for one last time, tears brimming your eyes. Tears that looked like fragile crystals, they could break any time. Before you let the tears fall, you said one last thing to him.

“Once you’re done packing my things, leave them outside.”

Your last encounter with Jaehyun kept on replaying in your head although a few days had passed. Breaking up with someone you have loved with your whole heart wasn’t easy. Everything now felt so… empty. You weren’t used to being with your own company.

Never would you have imagined yourself saying that to Jaehyun - who you thought would be the love of your life forever. But things ended up very different from what the both of you had expected. You didn’t want to blame Yewon entirely, because you knew your relationship with Jaehyun at that time wasn’t the healthiest either.

At that moment, as if Yewon knew that you were diving deep into a black hole in your mind about this, a text from her came.

Yewon: Hello, it’s me, Yewon. I’m sorry if I am bothering you. If you don’t mind, I would like to have a talk with you over lunch today.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “What does she have to say?” At first, you thought of rejecting her invitation because you didn’t have anything to say to her. However, you ended up accepting her lunch invitation to listen to whatever Yewon has to say. Giving her a chance to justify her actions? Maybe you could forgive her then.

You immediately regretted agreeing to meet up with Yewon because it just made you feel worse about yourself. The two of you went to a nearby café and sat in front of each other. You hated - no - you despised this atmosphere with Yewon. “Why did you want to meet up?” You started. Yewon cleared her throat and looked at you. “Um, I don’t know if I should say this right now, after your breakup with-”

You shot her a glare when she mentioned about your recent breakup. Who in this whole world would think it was a good idea to bring it up to someone who just recently went through it? Especially when she was partly the reason for it.

“I just thought I’d tell you this. I’m really sorry but I have sincere feelings for Jaehyun,” You flinched when you heard his name, “and I am thinking of dating him seriously. I feel guilty because of you so I thought of asking you first about it.”

You scoffed at the absurd statement. Is this girl for real? The audacity to say this to me after what she has done? You thought to yourself.

Tried maintaining your facial expressions, you replied with an “Oh.”

After what felt like a long minute, you voiced, “You can do whatever you want. It’s not like he is my boyfriend anymore. We broke up, so he can date whoever he wants.”

No. I’m still not over him. I can’t see him dating anyone else. Especially you, Yewon.

You bit your lower lips, trying hard not to break down in front of her. The corner of Yewon’s lips raised as she shot you a smile, “Yeah, but I’m really sorry about your breakup though. I knew getting in between the both of you was wrong, but I couldn’t help it,” she said insensitively.

Her apology didn’t seem sincere and you were trying your best not to smack her in the face. She looks like she’s putting on this show to look like this sweet and nice girl that everyone likes.

“Go ahead, I’m not stopping you. But just so you know, Jaehyun really loved me and I don’t think he’d get over me that fast. What you had with him was only temporary flutters, not real love. He only wavered a little, he didn’t fall for you. He remembers every little thing we did together, every single date, every single kiss,” you shrugged and took a sip of the tea you ordered.

“To be honest, I don’t even know if he’d date you because you’d remind him of how we broke up. If you really end up dating him, I hope his memories with me will continue to haunt him and you would remind him of how he broke my heart. Although I got over it already now.”

Liar. You sound the total opposite.

“Yeah but I’ll try anyways because I really want to date him. I really want to give it a shot.”

“Yeah, go for it. You know what, Yewon?” You grabbed the glass of water in front of you and unexpectedly threw the water at Yewon without hesitation. “Don’t you think I at least deserve to do this?”

Yewon’s eyes turned big as she stood up immediately. She was shocked at what just happened and just stared at her dress that got wet.

Yes, this is not a dream. You really did that. You re-enacted a typical scene from Kdramas and it felt so satisfying. You didn’t even know you had the courage in you to do that. Other customers in the café looked weirdly at you and obviously showed expressions of sympathy for Yewon. But you didn’t care anymore. “I know it’s wrong to do that, but I couldn’t help it,” you shrugged, throwing back her own words to her.

“I hope one day you experience the same as I did. I hope you go through the pain I’m in right now because of you.”

“What did you just do?! I know you’re mad, but how can you do that?! UGH!” she shouted as her hands reached for her glass of water to throw it back at you. Your eyes squeezed shut, expecting yourself to get drenched, but nothing happened.

You peeked one of your eyes open and saw a hand stopping Yewon from doing so. A hand so familiar that you almost forgot he no longer belongs to you. It was Jaehyun.

You didn’t know how he magically appeared there but there he was, staring at you in concern. Your heart started beating so fast it felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. Your breathing started to get faster each second and your palms turned cold. Clenching your hands into a fist, you tried to calm down.

I miss you. It’s only been a few days but I miss you so much, Jung Jaehyun.

You snapped back into reality when you heard Jaehyun whisper sadly, “Y/n… Are you alright?” Letting out a sigh, you picked up your bag and gave Yewon a last cold glare.

“Go get your shot,” You started walking away from the two of them, not even sparing Jaehyun a look.

“She started it first!” You heard Yewon complain to Jaehyun right when you left and thankfully her voice faded the further away you got from the café. Every second felt so suffocating with the presence of him. You couldn’t hug or kiss him like you used to. You couldn’t even take a proper look at his face without breaking down right there. You wished you could get over Jaehyun fast. Or sometimes you wished things went back to how they were before Yewon appeared. But it was too late.

It has been a tough week after the incident and you couldn’t hang out with most of your friends anymore because the two of you shared a similar group of friends. You shivered at the thought of them asking about Jaehyun and how unprofessional you would react to their questions – like bawling in front of everyone because of heartbroken you were. Yeah, you didn’t want that. Also, you didn’t want to make them feel awkward and walk on eggshells because of the breakup, although they probably already knew by now or have caught on.

The following days were filled with nothing but avoiding Jaehyun. You created this mission for yourself to help you get over him fast. It was difficult because he lives in the same building as you and moving out from your apartment wasn’t really the best option now.

One time, the elevator doors opened and before setting your foot in it, you looked up only to see Jaehyun standing inside. He looked at you softly and pressed the open button to hold the doors for you.

But you weren’t ready to face him. You immediately took a few steps back and turned, running back to your apartment.

“Y/n! Why are you running away from me…” he sighed sadly and closed the elevator doors.

A few days after that, he waited for you in front of your class to talk. When the class ended and you exited the room, he took your hands softly and whispered, “Y/n, can we talk? I have something to say to you. Please.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anything else from you,” you replied as you signalled to your hands, “Can you let go of my hands, please?” Jaehyun’s shoulders dropped as he let go of your hands again. He really didn’t want to let go this time, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

You hated feeling this way about yourself. You kept on blaming how you weren’t good enough for Jaehyun, how you were so foolish to end this relationship when you knew for a fact that you can’t live without him. Your best friend witnessed your breakdowns and she couldn’t stand seeing you suffer like that anymore.

Being the amazing best friend ever, she made appointments at hair and nail salons to give you a treat and to just cheer yourself up. You were so grateful for her, because without her, you would have struggled so much more alone.

You felt bad for yourself for not trying all of these earlier, because looking at Yewon, she was so pretty, always having her hair and nails nicely done. She’s young and knows how to present herself prettily in front of others. You envied her for that. So after so long, it felt nice getting your hair done, getting manicures and pedicures in pretty colours you’ve never tried before. It was like turning a new page in your life, trying to start anew.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, was having the hardest time of his life. He couldn’t understand how you were coping up so well because he sees you smiling in campus from time to time and it broke him more and more.

He couldn’t concentrate in class, stared into space most of the time and looked so dishevelled as if he only showered once every few days. He even got into trouble for not submitting his assignments properly. He had lost weight because he’s not been eating well after the incident. His appetite never came back and he only ate a little to make sure he stays alive.

Basically, life was giving him shit. And it was what he deserved. He had the most precious human being with him for five years and he took you for granted.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, it did. His mother decided to visit him that week to drop off some side dishes. She usually drops by every two months ever since Jaehyun moved out from the family house to stay in the apartment located near the university campus.

"You look terrible,” Jaehyun's mother said as soon as she arrives in his apartment. She fixed Jaehyun's hair a bit and patted his head. “Thanks, mum. Really needed that,” Jaehyun replied in sarcasm as he raised a brow to look at his mother.

“I brought your favourite side dishes and I packed more for y/n too this time. You told me she really liked it last time, remember?” Jaehyun lightly nodded as she placed some of the side dishes in Jaehyun’s fridge and put aside the ones she brought for you.

His heart broke when he heard that because he hasn’t told his mother yet about the two of you. He knows how much she loves you and was hoping for the two of you to get married right after graduation. So, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the situation right now.

"Since I’m here, I should go drop by y/n's place too. Let’s go together, Jaehyun. Help me carry all these side dishes. They’re so heavy! I hope y/n enjoys them."

“Umm mum-" He bit his lip and felt genuinely scared. What if you were as broken as him? He couldn’t bear seeing you like that. His mother looked at him with a questioning look, “What?”

He blinked and lightly shook his head, “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but he was curious and wanted to see how you were doing. What if the smiles you had on campus were all just a show? How well were you actually coping with the breakup? Were you eating all your meals?

Jaehyun just wanted to see you.

Jaehyun led his mother to your apartment while carrying all the side dishes she has packed for you. She rang the doorbell, "Y/n, are you at home?"

Jaehyun unconsciously started biting his lower lips harder than usual that it turned so red. I’m finally seeing her after so long. He thought.

Not long after, you replied, “Yes, I am!”

You opened the door and bowed to Jaehyun’s mother politely, greeting her after so long of not seeing each other. Surprisingly, you didn’t look shocked or caught off guard even when you saw Jaehyun standing behind his mother. Instead, he was the one looking shocked with widened eyes. He looked like a lost puppy with sad eyes staring at you.

How much you’ve missed that man standing right there.

You just wanted to throw your arms around him and hug him tightly. You wanted to kiss his cheeks, lips, nose forehead, but you couldn’t. Instead, pushed your feelings aside and focused on his mother instead.

“How have you been, Mrs Jung?” you asked as you led her to the living room. She took a seat on the sofa and softly smiled while looking at you.

"I’ve been well as always. You look extra beautiful today, y/n. I can tell you’ve been well too,” she caressed your hands and patted them softly.

I’m not doing so well though. You thought, but you just smiled back at her in response.

“I brought some extra side dishes for you too this time. Jaehyun told me you really liked the jangjorim (soy braised beef) I made last time, so I packed more for you," she pointed at the containers that Jaehyun was placing on your kitchen counter and you thanked her.

You turned to Jaehyun, but he avoided your eyes. You knew that he probably has not told his mother yet about your breakup and you understood that. You knew Jaehyun didn’t want to disappoint his mother. So, you just went along with it. Although inside, you were hurting. Your heart hasn’t healed, and it was breaking more every second you glanced at Jaehyun. He looked so lost and unattended. You could feel tears brimming in your eyes but you tried holding it in.

Crying in front of his mother didn’t sound like a good idea.

"So, how's university and studies so far? Doing good?" Jaehyun’s mother asked as Jaehyun took a seat next to her after arranging the side dishes. You nodded in response, “Yeah we're graduating soon, so things are not that easy, but manageable, I guess. By the way, would you like some tea or coffee? I’ll make them for you.”

She shook her head, “It’s okay, I’m not staying that long but it’s good to hear that you’re doing well,” she cleared her throat and leaned closer to you, “Anyways, I hope you won’t get offended by what I’m about to ask.”

You blinked and slowly nodded, “S-sure.” Jaehyun sensed that something was coming. "Mum-"

Before he could even stop her, she has already thrown her question, "Are the two of you planning to get engaged as soon as you graduate?"

Silence filled the room and you could feel the tension rising.

Jaehyun groaned and ruffled his hair in frustration. “Mum, I told you to not talk about this.” She pouted, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just curious about you two. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my future daughter-in-law.”

You awkwardly smiled without answering. Suddenly you felt as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room because it was suffocating. Jaehyun saw from your eyes how you were hurting and it was so hard for the two of you to be in the same space right now. So, he mustered up his courage and spoke up.

"Mum, listen,” he hesitated and took a glance at you, “We- we broke up. We’re taking a break from each other and it’s all my fault."

Your eyes widened when Jaehyun suddenly said that. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

Jaehyun waited for his mother to be shocked and yell at him for being such a jerk to you. He was expecting his mother to scold you for breaking up with her son. He was ready to face the wrath of his mother and was already expecting the worse. But his mother did the exact opposite.

The atmosphere was unexpectedly calm. It was so calm that it made you feel more uncomfortable.

She calmly placed a hand on top of yours and caressed it gently. "Ah I didn’t know,” she paused, “I’m so sorry for being insensitive about it, y/n. I don’t know what the both of you went through, but I hope you’re doing fine,” she smiled warmly. Her presence was so warm you wanted to just jump into her arms and cry your heart out about how much you’ve been hurting as if she was really your own mother.

Tears filled your eyes to the brim and Jaehyun’s mother noticed that immediately. She knew that the longer they stayed in your apartment, the harder it was for you. She then stood up and took her purse, “We should get going now, Jaehyun. Enjoy the side dishes, yn! Stay healthy, okay?” She smiled at you so dearly and patted your cheeks gently for one last time.

Such motherly love.

You let the tears fall slowly down your cheeks as you greet them out of your apartment because you couldn’t hold them in any longer. Jaehyun saw your tears and his heart broke even more. That’s when he realised, you weren’t doing so well either.

Jaehyun sat across Yewon in a café because he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to clarify things so she wouldn’t have hopes of wanting to date him. He knew his heart only belonged to you.

“You broke up with y/n anyways, and I’m partly because of it. You were also wavered by me at that time,” Jaehyun frowned at Yewon’s words, because he knew it was true. However, Yewon wasn’t the girl he wanted to be with. It was true that he was wavered by her when they texted each other daily, but it meant nothing to him.

He sighed. Yewon bit her lower lip and glanced at Jaehyun. “We don’t have to date straight away because I know you just went through a sad breakup,” she paused, “But I will wait for you.”

“Yewon,” Jaehyun started, “Even if a long time has passed after I broke up with y/n and I can date anyone I want, it wouldn’t be you.”

Yewon’s brows furrowed and she looked devastated. “W-Why not?”

“You keep on reminding me of her, so how could I date you?”

She scoffed as she heard his words, “What does that even mean?” Jaehyun let out another sigh, “The only reason I talked to you was because you reminded me of the young y/n I met in high school. So pure and innocent, felt like I needed to protect her always. When you approached me for the first time, you gave off the same vibes as her and that was what made me continue talking to you. You were so similar to y/n.”

Yewon stared at him in disbelief, “What? I-,”

Before she even continued, Jaehyun cut her off, “Don’t be mistaken. It’s not that I can’t date you because there’s y/n in the middle, but the reason I even noticed you was because of y/n.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you weren’t really wavered by me, but only talked to me because I was similar to y/n?” She said sadly, as Jaehyun lightly nodded in response.

“I’m sorry. I’m know that I’m also at fault for giving you hope back then, and I want to apologise for that. That is not something someone with a girlfriend should be doing, and I messed up. But let me tell you something, even if I’ve broken up with y/n now, I don’t have any thoughts of dating you at all. Heck, I don’t want to be with anyone else other than y/n,” Jaehyun took another glance at Yewon and drank his coffee.

Yewon looked so defeated and embarrassed because she was mistaken all along. She thought she could have a chance with Jaehyun after the breakup but unfortunately her plan went downhill.

Days and weeks passed as the two of you tried distracting yourselves with the upcoming exams. The final step before graduating college. You knew you couldn’t delve in deeper into being sad because of the breakup because it was affecting you negatively. But at the same time, you also knew how unhealthy it was to dismiss your own feelings.

It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry when you’re down. Everyone has those days. It will get better.

You tried telling this to yourself everyday and it was one of the coping skills that you realised helped.

But it wasn’t easy.

Traces of each other were left in daily routines and you can’t stop thinking about each other.

Is it normal for every breakup to be like this?

When Jaehyun ate meals alone, he felt so lonely. He missed being in your company where you had lots to talk about. Your happy, cheerful smiles brightened up his days and now he couldn’t see them anymore. All you ever asked was his attention and that was the least he could have given you, but he failed.

He remembered how much of a jerk he had been during your last few dates before you broke up. How dare he streamed a soccer game when in front of him sitting was the most beautiful woman? Too late for regrets now.

When he went to wash up, he saw your pink toothbrush next to his and remembered the times when you were too lazy to freshen up that he had to carry you to the toilet and make brushing teeth more fun. Jaehyun laughed softly at the sweet memory. Now his days were dull. He didn’t sleep, spent all his nights studying for finals. Bed feels bigger now without you lying there with him. He even spread out all the pillows he had to feel enveloped and cope with the loneliness he was feeling.

The bed depicts so much of his heart right now, empty.

On the other hand, you weren’t doing so well either. On the outside, you looked like you were doing okay. But little did people know you were hurting every night too. When you opened your drawer, you saw some of his hoodies placed in there for him to wear whenever he sleeps over at your place, and now he doesn’t come over anymore. You felt hot tears flowing down your cheeks as you shut your eyes.

You missed him.

You missed his scent, his touch, his presence. You missed having meals with him, watching movies together, cuddling, kissing, and just… loving each other. Maybe you missed Jung Jaehyun. Maybe, just maybe, you wanted him back in your life. You never expected him to affect you so much.

It was soon graduation day and you made it. You still weren’t sure how you survived university, but you did. After going up stage for the certificate giving ceremony, you found yourself outdoors at the campus, staring into space.

A lot had happened throughout your journey in university and you couldn’t believe that you even got yourself a degree amid the chaos. You looked down at your degree certificate on your lap and chuckled to yourself at how ridiculous your situation was.

Staying up at night while burning the midnight oils were already so difficult, but adding a breakup on top of that? It was the worst. You swore that you almost gave up a few times, but you didn’t want to affect your future just because of the incident.

Jaehyun didn’t bother you anymore after the day his mother came to visit because he couldn’t bear seeing you heartbroken anymore. He’d always just look out for you from afar, making sure you’re safe. He didn’t want to bother you, so you can study in peace. He promised to himself that he would give you some space and look for you only after graduation.

Now there he was, on graduation day, looking for you after the ceremony ended. In his hands were his folded graduation robe and mortar board. He spotted you from afar and his gaze softened at the sight of you. You also had your robe folded next to you, while you held onto your certificate.

With a thumping heart and nervous palms, he slowly approached you. You noticed a figure coming towards you and looked up. Your eyes matched Jaehyun’s and you swear you could feel your heart bursting. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, and you forgot how it felt to get butterflies in your tummy. But your gaze turned sad when you were realised that you were not dating him anymore.

“Hey, can I sit here?” Jaehyun asked, signaling to the empty seat next to you. You nodded in response and moved to the side to give him more space.

He sat next to you, leaving a little gap in between in case you felt uncomfortable. “You look really pretty today,” he said, “I mean, you always do.”

“Thank you,” your heartbeat got faster at his simple words and you felt yourself turning red. The wind blew and you could smell his cologne that he usually has on him. The one you bought for him because you really liked the scent on him. You missed this scent so much that it felt so unfamiliar today. But it was nice.

“Congratulations on graduating. Your efforts paid off,” he flashed a sincere smile to you. You turned away immediately because you knew you couldn’t handle looking at him. You could cry any time now because of how much you missed him. But you didn’t want him to know that. You didn’t want to show him the side of you crying because you were the one who ended the relationship. You didn’t want to seem pathetic. “You too. Congratulations,” you whispered.

“How have you been?” he asked. You almost scoffed at his obnoxious question because he obviously knows you weren’t doing well after the breakup. “Good. You?” you said in short.

“Not really.”

You blinked and didn’t reply to his answer.

The breakup happened only a few weeks before graduation and the both of you were still broken because of it. You never really had a proper closure because both kept on running away from each other, avoiding the topic. It’s now finally time to sit alone and talk about it. Just the two of you, nobody else.

“Finals really took a toll on your life, huh?” you joked, trying to make the mood livelier. But you still avoided eye contact, and it just made the situation more awkward. “Yeah. That too,” he replied.

Silence.

Jaehyun sensed that you were avoiding his eyes, so he tried to change the topic.

“Remember when we graduated high school a few years ago?”

You nodded in response, “Yeah. What about it?”

Jaehyun slightly glanced at you and chuckled to himself, “Am I the only childish one who remembers what we said then?’ You raised your brows in confusion.

He replied, “I thought we could conquer the world then. I really thought graduating high school was everything,” he laughed, “But you made me promise to graduate university together too.”

You smiled softly at the fond memory of innocent high school kids graduating. Both of you ditched the rest of your friends to go on a jjajangmyeon (black bean noodles) date together. “Yeah and we made it. We graduated both high school and university,” you replied.

Jaehyun lightly nodded and continued after a few seconds of hesitation. “But I also made another promise.”

He searched for your eyes, and this time, you looked into his sad eyes to listen to what he has to say. “I promised you that I’d take care of you and that I’d never hurt you. Your trusted me with that, but I-,” he stopped and let out a sigh, “I couldn’t fulfil it. I made you think of me as someone who would never hurt you, but I did.”

You turned silent as you listened to him. You felt bad that he thinks this way about himself. You never asked him to be perfect, you just wanted his presence in your life.

“Y/n,” he called. “Hmm?”

“I don’t think I can let go of our five-year relationship just like this. Things were so good for the five years, and only a small part of it went bad. It’s all my fault and I’m really sorry for that.”

You bit your lower lips and fondled your fingers in nervousness. You didn’t know how to reply to Jaehyun and your heart wasn’t calming itself down any moment now. You turned to him and caught his eyes. They looked so fragile, he had tears in them that looked like they were ready to fall any time now.

“I was so caught up trying to do my best for you to a point where I lost myself in between that. It made me scared whenever I think of you finding someone better than me because I know I’m not worth your love. You deserve someone so much better than me, so I tried becoming better. I tried to improve but I found myself getting lost. I sought assurance from someone else to make myself feel better, but it didn’t,” you knew he was talking about Yewon, and you nodded lightly, signalling him to continue while you listen.

“I thought that maybe talking to you less would lessen the mistakes I make, but it ended up making things worse. I was lucky enough that you gave me another chance- heck, you gave me a lot of chances and I blew them all away,” he ruffled his hair in frustration, ruining the hair he had prepared for graduation. Your brows furrowed as you stared at his now messy hair. You wanted to reach out and fix it for him, but he continued talking.

“I love you so much, I don't think I can ever let you go, y/n. The thought of losing you completely because of how I broke your heart hurt me so much that it almost killed me. You can call me a jerk, you can curse the heck out of me, you can leave me now, but I just wanted to say that it will always be you. It has always been you. I can never see myself loving someone else other than you, y/n. And I'm so sorry for hurting you. I regret it so much. I’m- I’m really sorry.”

At the end of his words, Jaehyun was already sobbing. He covered his face with his hands and just kept on crying. Your heart broke at the sight and you felt yourself tearing up as well. You extended your hands and reached out to pat his back gently. “It’s okay,” you said, “It’s okay to let it all out, Jae.”

You wiped your own tears and sniffed silently. “I’m sorry too. I should have trusted you more and gave you a chance to properly explain yourself, but I didn’t. I went along with my anger and broke up with you.”

Jaehyun’s sobs got softer and he looked up to face you. His eyes and nose were red from all the crying, but you still thought he looked adorable.

You chuckled although you still had tears in your eyes, “Do you think we can fix this? Fix us?” You asked him and gave his hair a quick fix. Jaehyun’s eyes widened as you asked that. “Does that mean you’re giving me another chance?”

You softly nodded and smiled.

“That day, when you met up with Yewon at the café after our breakup, a friend of mine was there. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she heard what you said to her and told me. My friend said maybe it could help me be less angry towards you,” you chuckled, “And weirdly, it did.”

Jaehyun sighed in relief and a small smile started to appear on his face. “You told her that you talked to her because she reminded you of me?” he nodded in response to your question. “Then why didn’t you just talk to me? I was always there with you,” you asked.

Jaehyun nodded and slowly took your hands into his. Your hands were so cold because of the nervousness earlier, and the warmth from his felt so nice. As if his warm hands were made to hold yours in them. “I told you I feared making mistakes and hurting you. I wanted to be the perfect boyfriend for you and I still want to.”

You furrowed your brows, “You’re perfect with all of your flaws, Jaehyun. I thought I’ve always told you that. I love you as you are, and I don’t need you to change any bit of it. I love you, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun felt his heart beat fast when he heard that. He held your hands tighter and looked you in the eyes softly. “I love you too, y/n.”

You teared up again and slowly wrapped your arms around Jaehyun to give him a big, tight hug. A hug you’ve been wanting to give him since forever and today you finally had the chance to. Jaehyun returned the hug and wrapped his arms tightly around you too. He whispered, “I’ll never let you go again.”

“Let’s go get jjajangmyeon, just like the old days?” Jaehyun asked when you released the hug, “Anywhere with you sounds great,” you smiled and caressed his cheeks. Jaehyun leaned in and gave you a peck on the lips. Your brows raised and he shrugged.

“Couldn’t help it. My girl looks amazing today.”

The both of you stared at each other for some time and laughed. You went through so much together and now, you were happy you got back with Jaehyun. Jaehyun was also elated because he finally got bac together with the love of his life. “No one else, only you y/n.”

To happier days ahead.

It’s never too late.

masterlist

Tell me what you think of this piece! Your comments give me lots of strength and motivation to write more and improve. I hope all of you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for your support! I really appreciate it.

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astralpenguin · 4 years ago

Text

@transnaturalweek day 6: euphoria

1.9k, ao3 link

“I want to do something to my hair.”

Jack and Kaia looked up from the puzzle they’d been slowly working on together. Claire was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily as if they’d been running.

“I thought you liked your hair long,” said Kaia.

“I do,” said Claire. They stepped into the lounge and collapsed onto the sofa nearest the door. “Well,” they said, “it’s not that I like it long so much as I don’t like it short.”

“Why don’t you like it short?” asked Jack. “I think you’d look great!”

Claire shrugged. “You’re not wrong,” they said. “I cut it short when I was like fourteen and it looked pretty good, except for how I looked almost exactly like my dad did when he was fourteen.”

Kaia winced.

“Yeah,” said Claire. “I’m not risking that happening again. No way.”

“But you still want to do something with your hair?” asked Kaia.

Claire groaned. “Yeah, something,” they said. “Mostly I just want people to stop looking at me and assuming I’m cis. Doing something to my hair might work, but I don’t know what.”

“You could dye it?” said Jack as he placed a piece of the puzzle down. His head then snapped up and his eyes shone with excitement. “Can I help you dye it?”

“Aren’t you God?” asked Kaia. “Couldn’t you just snap your fingers and make their hair a different color?”

Jack’s face fell into a slight pout. “I guess, but that wouldn’t be as fun.”

Claire laughed. “Sure,” they said. “Let’s dye my hair.”

Jack’s smile reappeared on his face. He jumped to his feet and ran from the room. “I’ll ask the others if they want in on this too!”

Kaia rolled xir eyes and smiled as xe stood. “He’s like an excitable puppy.”

“He’s three,” said Claire.

“And God.”

“And God,” agreed Claire. “And he wants to help me dye my hair.” Claire shook their head and smiled.

Claire and Kaia waited by the front door for Jack to come back downstairs. They only had to wait a couple of minutes before he was bounding down the stairs so fast that he almost ran right into them, only just managing to stop himself in time.

“Alex said to leave her alone and let him sleep.”

Claire snorted. “Of course he did.”

Kaia elbowed them in the ribs. “She’s been on call for three days, don’t be mean.”

Claire gasped. “Me? Mean? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What about the others?” Kaia asked Jack.

“Patience said that they think it’s a great idea, and Magda said to get her some pink dye as well as whatever other color you end up choosing.”

Claire frowned. “I hadn’t decided on a color yet. I could’ve gone for pink. They don’t know. I don’t even know yet.”

“Claire,” said Jack, an overly patient tone to his voice, “Magda is psychic.”

Claire blinked.

They flung the front door open and stode out.

“I’m going to dye my hair pink just to spite her.”

Kaia caught Jack’s eye. They grinned at each other, and they both followed.

Claire did not, in the end, choose to dye their hair pink.

The store they went to to pick out the hair dye had a huge range of colors, and the trio spent nearly an hour wandering up and down the aisle and debating the pros and cons of each option. Claire wanted something bright, that couldn’t possibly be mistaken for being a natural hair color even at a distance, and even though they’d declared that they were going to choose pink in order to prove the psychics wrong, they ended up more drawn to some of the other options.

Kaia made sure to grab a bottle of pink dye for Magda.

Eventually Claire settled on purple.

When they got home, Claire and Jack raced to the bathroom, eager to get started. Kaia hung back, detouring to Magda’s room to deliver the pink dye she wanted. Magda and Patience were both lying on their fronts on Magda’s bed, watching something on one of their phones.

“You want us to let you know when the bathroom’s free?” xe asked as xe handed the bottle over.

“No, that’s okay,” said Magda. She put the bottle to one side and smiled up at Kaia. “I need to bleach my hair before this will show up.”

“Normally you would,” said Kaia. “But we’ve got literal God here with us, and he’s very excited about dyeing people’s hair. He’d probably be happy to help you skip the boring step.”

“It still weirds me out that Jack is God,” said Patience, not taking their eyes off the screen.

“Honestly, same,” said Kaia.

A muffled yelp came from the bathroom, followed by the sound of two people bursting into laughter.

“I’d better go supervise,” said Kaia, glancing around behind xem. Xe looked back at Magda. “I’ll let you know when we’re done, but there’s no pressure to do it today.”

Magda nodded.

Kaia closed the door to Magda’s room behind xem and went into the bathroom without pausing to knock.

Claire’s shirt had been dropped on the floor and kicked to the side. They were sitting up against the bathtub with their head tilted over the edge and hair loose inside of it. Jack was standing next to them and holding the showerhead close to Claire’s hair, running the water across Claire’s scalp.

“Hey,” said Claire as Kaia walked in. “Jack’s giving me the proper salon experience!”

“Why screaming?” asked Kaia. “Alex is still trying to sleep.”

Claire grinned. “He forgot to wait for the water to warm up first, so I basically got an ice blast aimed at my head.”

“The water’s warm now though!” said Jack, looking proud of himself. “I was able to make it warm up faster so we could get on with washing Claire’s hair, and so Claire wouldn’t be cold for too long.”

Kaia closed the bathroom door and leaned back on it. “Isn’t that an abuse of your God powers?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t care though.”

Claire’s grin grew even wider. “That’s the best attitude to have! What’s the point of having powers if you don’t use them?”

“There’s no point at all,” said Jack, almost as if he was reciting something that he’d been told before.

Kaia couldn’t stop xirself from smiling as xe said, “Okay, but when his dads inevitably asks who the bad influence was, I’m pointing them at you.”

Claire blew Kaia a kiss in response.

Once Claire’s hair had been washed and the dye had been applied, they were faced with some time to kill before they could wash the dye out.

“We could dye your hair purple too?” said Jack.

“We can’t,” said Kaia. “My hair’s too dark for it.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I can make it so the dye works anyway.”

Kaia laughed. “I told Magda you’d say that. Thanks, but it’s okay. I don’t want to dye my hair today.”

“What about you?” said Claire. “We could do your hair.”

Jack thought about it for a few moments. “I don’t want purple hair,” he said. “I think I like my hair the way that it is. I would like to paint my nails purple though.”

“That, we can do,” said Claire. They looked over at Kaia. “Babe, do you have purple nail polish?”

Kaia shook xir head. “I can ask the others if they have some?”

“Don’t bother asking Alex,” said Claire. “If you disturb his beauty sleep, she might bite you.”

Kaia paused with xir hand on the doorknob. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Claire nodded sagely. “If I didn’t know what actual demons are like then I’d swear he was one.”

“She didn’t try to bite me earlier,” said Jack. He seemed genuinely confused about the direction that the conversation had taken.

“That’s because you’re the baby of the family,” said Claire, as if it were obvious, “and nobody’s allowed to be mean to the baby.”

The look of delight on Jack’s face was almost blinding.

“Family?”

As Claire stammered out a response, Kaia took the opportunity to slip out of the bathroom. Xe knocked on Magda’s door and waited to be called in.

“Do either of you have any purple nail polish? We’re painting Jack’s nails.”

Magda paused the video they were watching as Patience stood. “Yeah I do,” said Patience. “Let me go grab it.”

As they left the room, Kaia turned to Magda and said, “He did end up offering to skip the lightening-my-hair step if I wanted to dye my hair too. So the option’s there for you if you want it.”

“Thanks,” said Magda

“Here you go,” said Patience, walking back into the room and holding the small bottle out to Kaia. “One condition.”

“What is it?” asked Kaia, taking the bottle.

“Don’t let Claire do the painting.” They smiled and shrugged. “I’ve seen what their nail polish looks like, and I actually try to keep mine neat.”

Claire only owned a single bottle of silver nail polish. It was only ever applied to the nails on their toes, and the bottle was covered in splashes of nail polish from the many times that Claire had not been paying close enough attention to what they were doing when using it.

“You’ve got it,” said Kaia.

Claire only grumbled a little when Kaia relayed Patience’s condition to them. They couldn’t deny that Patience had a point. The minor disaster zone that was Claire’s single bottle of nail polish spoke for itself.

Kaia and Jack sat cross legged in front of each other, and Jack held his hands perfectly still while Kaia painted his nails. Once xe was done, xe handed the bottle over to Jack and he painted xirs. Xe didn’t manage to hold xir hands as still as Jack had held his, but Jack managed to paint xir nails perfectly anyway. Once he was done he closed the bottle, put it to one side, and snapped his fingers.

“What was that for?” asked Claire.

“Our nails are dry now,” said Jack. “That way we won’t end up smudging them.” He held his hands up in front of his face and smiled. “I really like this!”

Kaia sighed fondly and stood. “Definite abuse of God powers.”

“And I didn’t even have to directly encourage it this time!” Claire said. “He just did it! I’m so proud!”

Kaia returned the nail polish bottle to Patience, who was glad to see that it was undamaged.

The three in the bathroom then only had to wait a little longer before it was time to wash the excess dye out of Claire’s hair. Kaia took charge this time. Xe spent longer washing Claire’s hair than was strictly necessary, but as Claire’s eyes slipped shut as xe ran xir hands through their hair and over their scalp, xe knew that Claire didn’t mind.

And, finally, it was done.

Just like he’d done for his and Kaia’s nails, Jack clicked his fingers and Claire’s hair was suddenly dry.

They stared at themself in the mirror in silence for long enough that Kaia began to wonder if xe needed to start worrying, but xe abandoned that train of thought when xe saw Claire start to smile.

“I love it!” they said. They turned around and pulled Jack and Kaia into a hug. “Thank you for helping me with this.”

“It’s nothing,” said Kaia.

“Thank you for wanting this,” said Jack. “I had fun!”

“Technically you suggested it, Jack.” Claire squeezed them both tighter before letting them go. “And you’re a little genius.”

Kaia didn’t know if xe’d ever seen Jack smile so much in such a short space of time before.

And Kaia knew that xe was biased, and that Claire always looked amazing to xem, but they really did look beautiful with their new purple hair.

#transnaturalweek #spn #supernatural #kaia nieves #claire novak #jack kline #magda peterson #patience turner #fanfic #el creates

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lupismaris · 4 years ago

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Summertime, And The Livin’s Easy- a black sails fic prompt fill

this became incredibly long so instead of just posting it with the ask i’ve made it’s own post

@themelonface asks- For the fic prompts (if you're still taking them), silverflint talking about children. Can be AU, can be set during or after canon. I just have a feeling Miranda never wanted any, Thomas was too wrapped up in the fight for equality to need anything more than cats, but maybe James would have wanted kids in another life.

HERE MY DARLING HAVE THE FIRST OF hopefully TWO PROMPT FILLS because i want to write a post canon ficlet for this ask as well.

but for now have modern au silverflint (and hamilton at the end) and the discussion of children 💕

cw for mentions of child abuse and shitastic fathers!!! but theres nothing graphic mentioned or shown.

***

It was the hazy space between what would have been brunch on a weekend and the corporate lunch time rush and the start of cocktail hour on every other day when half the bars in Brooklyn Heights hadn’t actually opened their doors yet and those that had were serving sandwiches and day drinking friendly cocktails.

The Walrus was one of the latter.

Silver slid off his bar stool as the last member of the aforementioned lunch rush stepped out the door and leaned against the polished bar top with a bright grin. “How you holding up, honey?” Muldoon rolled his eyes. “Please, a corpse could make an aperol spritz.” “I doubt a corpse could make that many of them that quickly.” “Flattery might work on other men,” Muldoon said, as he always did, with a wag of his tattooed finger and a smile fighting to show on his face. “But it will not work on me.” “Are you sure? Cause you were pretty sexy with those martinis. Remind me why its always vodka?” “Your boyfriend has told you that a dozen times already, I know it for a fact, you shit.” “Okay but maybe I wanna hear you explain it. Again,” Silver said, propping his chin on his hands and putting on his best Cheshire smile, throwing in a slight batting of the lashes just for Muldoon’s sake. They played this game every time Silver wasted away a few hours at the bar, which he was starting to do more and more often. He’d joke with Flint that it was only out of boredom, but in truth, he felt safe there, nestled in the corner with his laptop or acting as an honorary member of the staff when they needed some help. He didn’t want to dwell too much on it, on why he felt so safe there or why after so many years he was once again feeling so painfully devoted to the same group of men who’d despite everything, seen him through hell. Muldoon sighed, his hands making quick work of filling the high powered steam dishwasher under the counter. He pushed it closed with his hip and looked up at Silver, finally cracking a smile. “Do you want to help me run bar for a bit, love? While it’s quiet?”

Silver was behind the bar before Muldoon could even consider changing his mind. He did pause to duck into the kitchen quickly, where the two line cooks- Randal and Dooley- were working on their mise en place and Vane was wedged into the alley doorway with a cigarette in his mouth, recovering from the lunch rush. His long hair was carefully tied up in a braided bun and covered in a bandanna, ears lined as always with half a dozen hoops a piece. “Why do you look like you just ate a canary?” Vane asked around his smoke. “No reason. Where’s the Captain?” Vane nodded to the walk in pantry where Flint was likely checking stock counts, “he’s in a mood again.” “When isn’t he? When he’s done tell him to come up to the bar I’ve got a surprise,” Silver said, still wearing that grin, and Vane laughed with a nod, going back to watching the alley behind the bar. “Alright come on you flirt-” Muldoon called, and Silver quickly washed his hands and snagged one of the spare aprons Hal kept behind the bar. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to make a cocktail, he played bartender for house parties all the time. But there was something different about learning to do it properly, from Muldoon who clearly took great pride in it, and in a place that was quickly becoming a second home to him. An hour in, and several successful cocktails later, Muldoon allowed Silver to help him actually fill orders for the few customers they got, though it wasn’t many. Flint still had not resurfaced from the kitchen, and so Silver kept his focus on the recipes Muldoon had him run through- proper martinis and Manhattans, Mojitos and mules, mezcal margs and all the things you could do with the collection of Amaros and aperitifs behind the bar. The customers were students on their way home from morning classes, morning shifters heading home or stopping for some food before the evening shift at their second job started, regulars who stopped in for lunch because no one made a cuban quite as well as their kitchen did. And then the door chimed and Silver looked up with his customary smile and greeting ready, waiting to see where the guests might seat themselves- the host wouldn’t be in till four when the official dinner service started- and found himself staring at, well, children. Six of them, all too young to be in a bar unsupervised even before happy hour but probably even too young to be wandering around Brooklyn by themselves as it was. The older two definitely had the hardened older sibling with “semi absent if not entirely absent parents” look around them, Silver knew that look far too well, though whether the four younger kids were siblings or just under their care he couldn’t be sure. All of them were wearing some variation of public school uniform which Silver recognized from the public school a few blocks away. “Hey Nicki,” Muldoon said with a wave, and one of the older kids with short messy dark hair and equally dark eyes waved back. Silver looked at Muldoon quickly with raised brows. “Do me a favor go find Flint, okay? Tell him the kids are up front.” Silver just nodded, watching as Nicki and the other older kid shepherded the younger kids into the big corner booth closest to the bar without being told to, and slipped into the kitchen. Vane was at the prep table, knife in hand and making quick work of a cut of meat. He didn’t look up when he heard the door swing open but tilted his head expectantly. “Flint?” Sliver asked. “Smoke break, should be about done. Said he was coming up to see you in a minute.” Silver threw open the back alley door and there was Flint, propped up against the wall with a beaten up paperback on his knee and a forgotten cigarette in his hand. He looked up at him with a frown. “Hey whats wrong? You set the bar on fire with a flaming mojito or something?” he said, wearing a rare teasing smile. “Not yet but theres like, half a kindergarten class upfront.” Flint blinked, looked at his watch, and swore, “shit they must’ve let out early cause of the heat.” “Darling, what in the hell are you talking about.” Flint stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it in the ashtray by the door, kissing the top of Silver’s head as he passed. “I’ll explain in a minute- Vane! Leave the dinner service I need you on the meal kits with me-” “Already started on them,” Vane said, waving the knife idly as he portioned the meat into rather exact ready to cook portions. Flint nodded and washed his hands. “Dooley wheres those sandwiches I told you to fix-” “Here boss.” “Silver,” Flint loaded up six plates of sandwiches onto two serving trays and passed the lighter of the two to Silver. “Take one of these out with me ‘kay?” Silver nodded and balanced the tray on his shoulder, following Flint out of the kitchen. The bar was still mostly empty, Muldoon hanging out at the corner of the bar closest to the kids, making them each a Shirley Temple and passing Nicki a pitcher of water for them to share. Normally, Silver would’ve made some smart ass remark about how apparently it was normally for a bunch of kids to just turn up at the bar for lunch but something about this felt different and something in the set of Flint’s shoulders told him to stay quiet. “Let me guess the AirCon crap out again?” Flint asked upon reaching the table. “Or did one of you sabotage it to get out early?” The younger kids all started talking at once, bursts of loud excitement at seeing Flint, and the food, all wanting to explain why they had been let out of school a little bit early that day. Nicki and the other older kid, Sola, helped distribute the plates of food with smiles and nods of thanks while Flint listened intently to the kids’ rambling and incoherent explanations. Once the young-ins were distracted by the sandwiches, Nicki offered a more coherent explanation. “Yeah they said the AC’s gonna be out till tomorrow with the heat, so they’re closing school till Monday,” he said. “Three day weekend I guess, without the extra homework since the teachers didn’t have time to prepare for any.” “Nice. Gonna meet your friends at the bridge park tomorrow? You mentioned wanting to get your kick flips more polished.” Nicki shook his head, looking bitter about it. “Can’t, busted up my front bearings and wheels on a ride home last week, won’t be able to afford to fix it for a bit. S’fine though, got chores to do.” Flint nodded, leaning back against the bar with his arms lazily crossed over his middle. “Do me a solid and bring the board by tomorrow okay? I think one of my guys might have some spare parts they’re not using.” Silver felt something in him break a little at the way the boy’s face lit up at Flint’s words. Or maybe it was at the ease with which Flint handled the kids, the openness he showed them, listening to how their days had gone, if only in brief, listening to their problems, which to them seemed world ending- Sola’s internet was out for the weekend, so she’d be at the library doing homework on Friday and probably most of the weekend when she wasn’t helping at her aunt’s salon, the little ones would all be shuttled to various relatives until Monday until they went back to school and Sola and Nicki, or another of the older kids in their building would take charge of them again. One of the younger kids was staring at Silver, her sandwich half held to her mouth. Just staring, bright brown eyes fixed on him in that quizzical way that children possessed that always made Silver feel transparent. Flint noticed and followed her gaze with an amused grin, waving for Silver to come over to join them instead of hiding behind the bar with Muldoon. Silver looked at him wide eyed for a moment, then at the kids, specifically the little girl who was staring him down like a gunslinger, and then back at Flint, who just reached for him. Damn the bastard, he knew that was all it ever took. Silver came over and let Flint pull him in under his arm, feeling like a bug under the microscope in a science class he never attended but had heard about from other people. “You have pretty hair,” the little girl said. She was missing her two front teeth and Silver wanted to melt. “Thank you. You have big eyes.” “Yeah. They see a lot,” She said nodding solemnly. Silver could feel Flint shifting with the effort it took not to laugh. “They’re a pretty color. They remind me of this stone called tiger’s eye,” Silver continued. He could see Nicki giving Flint a look, though he didn’t know what Flint was doing in response. The little girl tilted her head. “Whats that?” So Silver pulled out his phone and showed her, which lead to a short lesson in gemstones that mostly amounted to excited cries of “oh shiny” and “I’d steal that one” which did Silver’s heart good. “This is Silver, a friend of mine who just moved back to town. He’s helping out round here. So he and I are gonna go fix your take away bags,” Flint said, once the momentary fascination in gemstones had faded and the kids were once again fixed on their plates. “Sola, you and Nicki just let Muldoon know if you guys need anything, or stick your head in the kitchen and yell okay? We’ll hear you. C’mon Silver.” If Silver had hoped for an explanation, he didn’t get one. Once he and Flint crossed the threshold back into the kitchen there was work to be done- Randal and Dooley handled the orders brought to them from the waitstaff while Flint and Vane, with Silver doing whatever Flint told him to, made quick work of assembling meal kit after meal kit from dishes both on and off the bar’s menu. Everything was boxed up and taped shut, paired with pre-typed instructions on how to cook the meals and how many servings each would make, and tucked into sturdy double layered brown bags that would hopefully survive a trip across the neighborhood. As they were finishing twenty minutes later, Hal’s voice could be heard through the window behind the bar, which answered Silver’s most pressing question- did he know that Flint was just running a school cafeteria out of the bar? Apparently yes, and apparently the kids were just as excited, if not more so, to see “Uncle” Hal. Because of course they called him Uncle Hal, why wouldn’t they. God, Silver was going to have to book a fucking dentist appointment for all the tooth rot the sweetness of this was giving him. He helped Flint carry out the bags of food, Vane insisting the kids would be too scared of him while Flint argued that Vane was just scared of the kids, and Silver watched as Hal and Flint got the bags labeled for each child and into a push cart that Sola promised to bring back the next day when she passed on her way to her Aunt’s salon. He then did his very best not to pass away on the spot as each kid, even Nicki and Sola, hugged Hal goodbye. Flint had crouched down to say good by to the little ones, accepting their clumsy hugs, reminding them to be careful walking home, and asking them to recite the bar’s phone number for him just in case (though Silver was sure they probably had cellphones, even if they were elementary schoolers), before he stood and gave Nicki and Sola each a one armed hug and watched them shepherd the group outside again. “Only group today?” Hal asked and Silver thought his voice sounded a bit heavy. “So far. Powers out at their school though, likely a couple others’ll come by later. Want me to call around to the other bars and see if they’ve heard anything?” “Yeah call the food bank and the closest shelter too for me, see if we can’t drop off our end of night supply to them this weekend.” Later, several more hours of food prep and three more groups of wary looking kids who all seemed completely unafraid of Flint and his crew, plus a Thursday night dinner rush, and Silver finally got his explanation. He also thought he should have gotten the nobel prize for being able to keep his mouth shut for as long as he did. “So are we gonna talk about it?” Flint was sitting on the floor in front of him, half asleep already between his thighs, as Silver combed his hair. They had taken home food from the bar and shared a six pack between them on the deck, Thomas held up at a Client dinner where he was no doubt being wined and dined and bored to absolute tears. They had treated themselves then to a hot bath, with the jets, and were now just wasting time with the kind of nonsexual intimacy that Silver had learned he craved with Flint, waiting for Thomas to join them so they could all manage a good nights sleep. “Talk about what?” Flint asked, his voice a heady rumble. “The kids. And why they knew to just wander into a bar on a Thursday,” Silver said, keeping his voice gentle. He coated his hands in more product and worked it into the shaved sides and back of Flint’s head, massaging his scalp as he went. “Why you and Hal and the rest of the crew seemed completely unphased by it.” Flint hummed lowly, nearly a purr as he leaned into Silver’s touch. They’d settled into the bedroom Thomas and Flint shared, like they did most nights since it had the nicest adjoining bathroom and all the obnoxiously nice hair and skin care products. Silver sat in the old plush armchair, bundled up in a robe while Flint, naked and content to air dry, leaned into him, a picture of ginger hair, rich freckles, and well loved tattoos on a soft strong figure. If Silver hadn’t been so distracted by the day, he’d have been more appreciative. “S’not that big a deal. Lots of families round here with young kids, can’t keep an eye on them between working two or three jobs, haven’t got money for babysitters or relatives to watch ‘em, or enough to cover food for the week, especially when the public schools can’t feed em. You start to notice which kids it is, when they pass by, which schools they go to, which blocks.” “In Brooklyn Heights?” “They don’t live in this neighborhood, Silver, you know that, not all of Brooklyn has been gentrified to shit by the developers. Hell walk a few blocks east towards the tech school and you’ll find a lot of them. Or south towards Bayridge. Anyway, the groups you met today are all right from Downtown Brooklyn, they go to school nearby you’ve seen them.” “Yeah I just… I dunno, you see so much of the multi-million dollar condos I guess you forget thats not all theres is.” “Nicki lives with his mom, his dad walked out and she’s working two jobs to keep the one bedroom they share over on Jay street. He’s only thirteen but he tried getting a job with me washing dishes last summer, I turned him down, sent him home with some food for his trouble,” Flint continued. Silver smiled, he could picture the scrappy dark haired boy trying to square up with Flint, trying to convince him he was old enough to legally work. “Let me guess he wasn’t the first.” “Won’t be the last either. If they aren’t working for the family to earn some extra money or to cut back on hiring expenses they’re looking for shifts somewhere to pick up the slack. They’re losing out on being kids all because the rent keeps going up and there ain’t shit else to do about it other than leave. And a lot of them can’t even afford to do that.” There was a familiar grit to Flint’s voice, the old bitter salt that meant someone had touched a nerve. It scared other people, but Silver knew it just meant Flint was, for the moment, being vulnerable with him. “Were you Nicki once? Trying to bully your way into work?” Silver asked softly. He reached for the comb again and sectioned off a part of Flint’s hair to start working with. Flint was quiet a moment. “Yeah. Yeah worked the docks a bit as a boy, most kids did it to earn pocket money or to help out with the bills.” “Which was it for you?” “Granddad only had his pension. And he spent that on booze. So whatever I earned at the docks helping the fishermen, or from pickpocketing, that was what bought food. Kept the lights on, shit like that. I told you once, that I met Henessy that way, picking his pocket.” Silver laughed softly. “I do remember. You technically succeeded, didn’t you?” “Mm, he only caught me cause someone snitched. Broke that fuckers nose real good I’ll tell you.” They were quiet for a moment, Silver combing Flint’s hair with impossible care, working his fingers through any knots he found, before following with product and conditioner, Flint grew heavier and heavier against him, warm and soft and his. “So you and Hal decided to do something, the way you always do?” Silver asked. “Hm? Oh yeah- city isn’t doin’ much, food banks and schools are already over run, and when school holidays hit, they can barely keep up demand for kids who need free meals. So we got a few other bars involved, met with some schools and the food banks and sent out some notices and just- started feeding people. I mean thats why Hal wanted to open the bar you know? You feed people and you give them everything. You feed them and they’ll do the rest. So thats what we did. In a week or two when the schools are out for the summer we’ll have a couple trucks that’ll make deliveries, so the kids don’t have to come to the bar.” Silver hummed and kissed his temple. “You’re sweet.” “Am not.” “You’ll let me help, right? Prep the meals and stuff?” Flint tipped his head back to look up at him. “You want to?” “Yeah. This altruistic thing is new to me, as is the cooking for fun thing but… it matters, to you, any idiot can see that. And I want to be part of it.” Silver smiled and leaned down to kiss him best he could. He could feel Flint smiling into the upside down kiss. “You’re really good with them too, you know, which please don’t take this the wrong way, I did not expect,” he added when he pulled back. “What with the kids?” “Yeah.” “Oh no offense taken I have no idea how it happened. They just aren’t afraid of me for some reason. I fully expected them to be, mind. I used to think I had the kind of face that would make babies and small children cry but apparently they just, I dunno, think I’m alright.” “They trust you, thats a big deal for kids. Especially ones who have clearly been let down by other adults. I mean you also talk to them like they’re just tiny adults which probably helps.” “They’re gonna be adults one day, might as well treat them with dignity well before they realize they should be fighting for it, you know?” Silver smiled softly, “Sometimes I don’t think you realize how magnificent you are, you bastard.” Flint didn’t say anything, just blindly reached for Sliver’s hands so he could pull him closer. So silver set aside the comb and rested his chin on the top of Flint’s head, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight to his weathered, tattooed hands. “You were good with them too, once you stopped being scared of them,” Flint offered. “Kids scare me, I’ve never spent enough time around them to learn how to make them happy. They’re so easy to hurt, so easy to damage. And extremely durable, extremely resilient but… I dunno… Just never trusted myself and never had the opportunity to do more than amuse them for a few minutes at a time before vanishing into thin air like Santa Claus.” “Well, you’ll have plenty of practice at the bar. I still think you were good with them. Little Sylvie likes you at least.” “Not as much as they love you.” Silver thought a moment. “Hey…” “Hm?” “Have… Have you and Thomas ever talked about kids?” It was a heavy question, one that might have been too much too soon and a part of Silver wished he hadn’t asked it. But there had been such a softness in Flint’s face when he’d spoken to the children, a kindness and a focus in his attention that meant he’d put time and effort into his actions, into making sure what he was doing was what the kids needed in that moment. It wasn’t just an adult slumming it with the neighborhood kids cause he had nothing better to do, it was almost, dare Silver think it, Paternal in nature. Paternal and the dread Captain Flint being used in the same sentence had not been something Silver had ever considered as possible, and yet- And yet it was, and it had piqued the old curiosity. Flint was quiet again, though he didn’t pull away or let go of Silvers hands, so Silver trusted that he hadn’t upset him. Silver held him tightly, turning his head to rest his cheek on Flint’s hair and wait patiently for him to speak. “Its complicated, pup.” “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. I never thought of you as a dad until today but now I’m… I won’t lie a part of me is still thinking about it.” There was a soft shuddering sound and Silver felt Flint shift in his arms, curling tighter in on himself for a moment before trying to settle again. Silver held tight, pressing his face into his hair. It took another moment or two, and several deep breaths, but Flint eventually spoke. “Thomas and Miranda were expected to have children when they married,” he said lowly, “all wealthy families expect heirs. But Miranda didn’t want to go through pregnancy and Thomas wasn’t sure if he could sire so they found ways of putting it off and focusing on Thomas’ political career. Thomas… he wanted to save the world, I’m sure for a while he thought he couldn’t allow himself thoughts of a future until that was done.” Silver hummed. That did sound like Thomas. Even now, with the chip on his shoulder and the somewhat colder view of the world, he still seemed to think he could save it. Silver wasn’t about to point out that Flint still seemed to think the same way. “And after everything I dunno I guess it just took so much time to remember how to be living, breathing people again, that children were never part of the consideration,” Flint said with a shrug. There was a weight to his voice, an emptiness that had Silver frowning slightly in surprise. “How can you care for a child when you’ve only just come back to life? When you’ve only just found reason to stay alive? It- Any child we brought into our lives would have been at risk, back then for certain, though I’m not sure a child would be better off now and besides with how much we work its not like-” “James,” Silver said softly, lifting his head, “you’re rambling.” Flint went still in his arms, still as if waiting for the lash that he knew would never come, but waited for all the same. The readiness with which Flint expected violence broke something in Silver, just as much as it felt like a mirror, smudged and smoky and cracked with age. “Is this your way of saying you want to be a father, but the thought of it terrifies you?” Silver asked. “The things I’ve done,” Flint said in a rough voice, “The stains my hands have carried- I’d see them every time I held my child. That’s my fear, I think. That I’d see them, and that violence would stain them as well.” He paused. Silver held him, hiding his own face. It was easier, they had learned, to talk about such things like this, with Flint’s back to Silver, their faces just hidden enough to give the illusion of control. How many secrets had they shared like this? Silver was losing count. “I was raised by a drunken old sailor and a bastard of a navy man who brought nothing but ruin- what could I ever give a child, John?” Flint asked, his hands white knuckle tight on Silver’s, his eyes the deep green of the sea, ghostly and far away. “What could I give them but that same ruin?” And what could Silver say in the face of that? So he said nothing, just nodded and kissed Flints throat until the tension in his shoulders softened and Flint settled back against Silver’s body to rest, weary and still haunted, but at least no longer at knife point in his own home. Silver went back to brushing his hair, singing softly to him as he worked, until Thomas came home and they were able to find more pleasant ways to spend their evening than discussing the sins of one’s father. They didn’t talk about the possibility of children again, not for the whole of the summer. They helped the food banks and the neighborhood families as best they could through the summer, made sure whatever kids stopped by the bar or the kitchen door in the alley left with something to eat, on the house. Thomas made sure checks were written to the shelters and the food banks that needed them, that the families that needed childcare could get it free of charge. They got through the summer, and the conversation never arose again. Silver just kept the thought of Flint holding a bright eyed child that sometimes looked like Thomas’ kid, and sometimes looked like his own, locked away safely in his heart and didn’t examine it too closely. Then Idelle had her baby in August. In October they held a two month belated baby shower for her at The Walrus, so the crew could meet little Wesley Ira Featherstone and his father, bless him, could cry with his crew mates about how proud he was while Idelle had her first stiff drink in over a year. Rackham was there, of course, as the boy’s God father (Silver was delighted by the idea because Rackham was absolutely as terrified by the concept as he was as honored) and Wesley took to him as well as any two month old possibly could. But when it came to crying babies, Rackham didn’t know what to do, and Hal the God Father to all and obvious baby whisperer was back in the kitchen unable to assist. And so Thomas and Silver watched as Flint, who seemed to be acting without really thinking about what he was doing (outside of scolding Rackham who was himself on the verge of tears) scooped up the baby and promptly rocked him calm within moments. “How did you-” Rackham stared at him in shock. “If you didn’t fuckin panic all the time then he wouldn’a started crying,” Flint growled at him, which Wesley found hilarious, if the slew of gurgling giggles was anything to go by. Silver watched, feeling his face split into a ridiculous smile, as Flint refused to give the baby back to Rackham until he’d sobered up, and instead let Idelle tie a sling around his chest to tuck Wesley into, so he could still fix drinks and use his hands while keeping the baby safe. “Sure you don’t want me to take him back?” she asked, Max watching with an amused smile. “You’ll have plenty of him soon, I got ‘im. Just give Rackham a 101 on how to actually hold a baby.” Silver leaned into Thomas as they watched Flint from their seats at the bar, humming as Thomas’ arm went around him automatically, pulling him close into his side. He looked up, curious to see what Thomas thought of his husband suddenly so at home with a child. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn’t what he saw. Thomas’s face had gone soft, from the crows feet around his eyes to the laughter lines around his mouth, which parted in the gentlest shape of awe Silver might have ever seen on the man, as if he’d realized something he’d never considered before. His shoulders were rounded, leaning forward against the bar, hand fidgeting against the polished bartop as if desperate to reach out for his husband. Silver could feel the arm he hand around his shoulder tensing with the need to act. They watched as Flint moved behind the bar, one hand resting where Wesley’s head was under the sling, rocking him gently as he fetched fresh beers for himself and for Hal. Silver was watching his face, watching the way his lips were moving, as if he were talking to the baby, but he was just too far away to hear what he was saying. “He’s singing,” came Thomas’ voice suddenly, almost lost to the noise of the bar. “What?” “He’s singing,” Thomas said again, nodding to his husband. “Padstow Farewell, he sings it to me sometimes when I have nightmares, I’d know the lyrics on his lips even in the grave.” Silver smiled softly. “He sang it to me when I was recovering from my leg. I didn’t know it could be a lullaby.” “Neither did I but…” “But now-” “Yeah.” Silver reached for Thomas’ other hand and kissed his knuckles, leaning into him further. Thomas held him impossibly tight, resting his cheek on his hair. There’d be more to talk about in the morning, tomorrow, the day after, next week, next month, next year. And there was a dizzying sense of joy in that, the same kind of joy that came from watching Flint carrying the future in his worn and weathered hands.

#my fic #jamie's fic prompt fills #black sails #black sails fic #black sails modern au #silverflinthamilton #silverflint #james flint #john silver #thomas hamilton #@themelonface #muldoon #hal gates #charles vane #i had a lot of feelings writing this one y'all just so many feelings all over the plave holy shit!!!!

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tenspontaneite · 4 years ago

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The Ceracurist (Chapter 1/?)

Rayla has been at university for nearly three months, trying and failing to take care of her horn upkeep alone, before she admits defeat and goes to visit a professional horn salon.

It ends up being somewhat less of a terrible experience than she expects.

(“You’re human?” She blurted, unthinking, and the smile he’d been wearing went momentarily fixed. A little more professional than it was genuine. Then he huffed, an easy laugh, and she felt herself go red around the ears.

“What gave it away?” Her ceracurist asked, dry, his grin a little lopsided.

Rayla stared, taken off-guard, and gestured expansively at his entire body.)

(Chapter length: 6k. Ao3 link)

---

Rayla pushed through the doors of the salon with a bearing that would have been better suited for heading into battle. Regrettably, there was no one she could legally fight here, so she slunk cautiously in, grimacing at what she saw. She might have hoped to find somewhere to lurk and get her bearings unnoticed, but there was no hiding in that open and well-lit reception area, and no disguising the way that the bell on the door chimed cheerfully at her passing. It was altogether a terrible start to what she fully expected would be a mortifying experience.

A Sunfire elf looked up from the desk and smiled. Their dark skin and hair was typical enough, but the horns caught her eye; she stared for a second before she could avert her gaze. Far from the usual plain gleam of Sunfire horns, these had been carved into elaborate patterns and dyed in an astonishing gradient of red and purple. She’d never seen anything like it outside of the mageskein, or maybe the cover of a magazine. “Welcome!” the elf chirped, friendly. “Do you have an appointment?” Beside them, on the desk, a potted melodaisy sang a tune that she vaguely recognised. It was weirdly anachronistic to find melodaisy music in a place as modern-looking as this.

Rayla stopped short, tension locking her joints. Her neck prickled with self-consciousness. “...Do I need one?” she asked, after a moment, with an edge to her voice. She eyed the door, already wanting desperately to escape. Shouldn’t have listened to Ethari, she thought morosely. This had been a bad idea from the start.

The receptionist inspected her, and in that moment Rayla was entirely certain that they knew exactly what she was about. It was unnerving, the calculating weight of that look. Then it passed, and they waved dismissively. “If you wanted something complex done, yes. But I’m guessing that’s not what you’re here for.”

She gave serious thought to the idea of just...walking out. She could do that, right? But then she’d have to explain the cowardice, such that it was, whenever she next called her family. And what a stupid thing this would be to lose her nerve over. “No.” She agreed grumpily.

“Touch up?” The receptionist questioned. “Basic buff and polish?”

Her shoulders hunched. “Just the filing and buffing,” she relented, in the end. “I’m not here for anything fancy.”

“Polishing is part of our standard service, I’m afraid. Nothing fancy about it, as far as we’re concerned.” The Sunfire elf smiled at her in a placating sort of way. It grated. “Why don’t you go take a seat and I’ll see who’s available?” they gestured at the row of seats, smartly upholstered, arrayed along the wall. Again, Rayla eyed the door. This was apparently noticed. “It’s alright, we’re used to first-timers,” they assured her, already receding from the desk and heading for the door into the salon proper. “It’s really not that scary. Just wait a minute, alright? I’ll be right back.”

They couldn’t have known it. Or maybe they did? But Rayla heard ‘scary’ and stiffened before she could help it, setting her jaw. Very stubbornly indeed, she stalked over to one of the chairs and planted herself in it, staring grimly at the assorted posters and advertisements on the walls. They were, of course, largely advertising different things one could have done to one’s horns. Because this was a horn salon. A horn salon that her entire family had suggested, implied, or outright stated she desperately needed the services of.

It wasn’t her fault that it was hard to get to the undersides of her horns on her own. Even using a complex set of mirrors, working on what you couldn’t see was decidedly challenging. She’d filed off the nasty parts, but apparently, that wasn’t good enough, and she looked unkempt, and undignified, and how do you ever expect to follow your parents into their line of work looking like that, Rayla-

“Ugh,” she muttered to herself, disgruntled, and folded her arms. She glared at a poster that implored her to, in very bold and cheerful lettering, ‘Ask about horn art today!’. Rayla had absolutely no intention of asking about horn art today.

While she was waiting, a Skywing elf emerged from the same door the receptionist had entered, and approached the desk curiously. He turned to her, and as he did, the light caught on his horns. “Did the receptionist leave?” He asked, and Rayla tried very hard not to stare. Not only did this elf have elaborate patterns carved into the horns, but there was – some sort of silvery metallic inlay in there, gleaming bright and almost liquid in the daylight filtering through the window. She hadn’t even known people did that. It was startlingly striking.

“Er,” she said, and “yeah, I think they’ll be back in a minute, though.” The unfamiliar elf accepted this agreeably enough, and stood by the desk to wait.

Sure enough, the receptionist returned in short order, pausing briefly in the doorway to do a double-take at the man waiting there. “Oh, so that’s why he was free,” they muttered to themself, just about loud enough for Rayla’s excellent ears to pick up. More loudly, they said “Tairas! You look fantastic! Glad you decided to try the metallics after all?”

The elf, evidently some sort of repeat customer, chuckled at them as they strode back up to the counter. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure at first, but-“ he waved expressively at his horns. “-wow, right? You’ve got some serious talent working here.”

“We’re very glad to have him, yes,” agreed the receptionist, and then conducted what ended up being a rapid exchange of a staggering amount of currency. Apparently, fancy horn-decorating did not come cheap. Rayla glanced uneasily at the price lists on the walls to reassure herself that what she was here for wouldn’t be so extortionate. Finally, the customer with the fancy metal-patterned horns left, and the receptionist approached her again. “Well, you’re in luck, Callum finished up with Tairas just in time for you,” they told her. “So I can take you through now.”

“Great.” Rayla said, unenthusiastically, and the receptionist snickered at her.

With a friendly pat on her shoulder, they said “It’ll be fine, trust me. And Callum’s one of our best ceracurists anyway, so you’ll be in good hands.”

The words didn’t soothe her. They’d be stranger’s hands, no matter their skill; that was what had unsettled her. Of course it was what had unsettled her. What else?

Still. She supposed if she had to have a stranger’s hands on her horns, at the very least it could be a stranger who knew what they were doing. Rayla sighed, resigned, and followed the receptionist through to the treatment area. She entered a long corridor with yet more doors arrayed along it; some further down its length marked ‘staff only’, others nearer and unadorned. The receptionist took her into the closest, revealing a large room lined with curtained-off booths. The sounds were precisely what she’d expected; the buzz of a half dozen electric buffers in operation, the hum of voices, the shuffling of feet. She could smell keratin dust and horn polish on the air. Horn oil, too.

It ought to have unsettled her further, and it did, a little. But the sight of the curtains had soothed her at once, with all their attendant implications of privacy. Somehow, she’d anticipated something far more open, where she had the sight to go with the sound of however-many elves having their horns groomed. She’d anticipated that others would be able to see her, sat beneath the ministrations of a ceracurist who she didn’t even know.

It had been a stupid expectation, in retrospect. For all that it was more common in the larger cities for elves to see a ceracurist when they needed to, they still had their dignity. Of course there’d be booths. Of course they wouldn’t be able to see each other. Of course.

Her relief at the realisation sustained her until she was led a little further down the room. Only one booth was open and empty, and within it she saw what she expected: a chair, a basin, a mirror. A table of tools. There was no one waiting there for her, but she tensed regardless.

“He’ll be here soon,” reassured the receptionist, as if mistaking the source of her anxiety. “He’s just changing. The metallurgy is careful work, you know.”

She didn’t know, in fact. She didn’t particularly care, either. “Right.” she said, terse, and eventually allowed herself to be prodded over to the waiting chair. Stiffly, she sat. And then the receptionist left her there to wait.

It didn’t take long. On-edge as she was, her ears twitched at the footsteps in the corridor long before anyone entered the room; she traced their approach, staring at the sight of her own terse expression in the mirror. Then, finally, the person drew near enough to pause at the edge of her booth. She could see the edge of their body in the mirror, wearing some sort of dark apron over a uniform.

“Hey there,” he said, friendly, and there was the sound of a curtain being drawn. “So you’re my surprise appointment, huh?”

“Suppose so,” Rayla muttered, eyes on her hands as they tightened in her lap. She still hadn’t looked. She didn’t really want to look at him. This was the person who’d be handling her horns. A stranger. She wasn’t quite ready to put a face to the voice yet. But, ready or not…he stepped into view.

Startled, she blinked up at him, and registered several things in rapid succession. The hair was a little surprising; brown, but smooth in a way you didn’t often get with Sunfire or Earthblood elves, and his skin was pale. Eyes a pleasant forest-green. Cute, Rayla’s mind supplied after a moment, as though to distract herself from the far more obvious conclusion of-

“You’re human?” She blurted, unthinking, and the smile he’d been wearing went momentarily fixed. A little more professional than it was genuine. Then he huffed, an easy laugh, and she felt herself go red around the ears.

“What gave it away?” Her ceracurist asked, dry, his grin a little lopsided.

Rayla stared, taken off-guard, and gestured expansively at his entire body. The lack of horns, the rounded ears, the – the five-finger hands, so strange in their shape that for a moment she couldn’t pull her eyes from them. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen humans before. But these circumstances were weird.

“Yeah, that’s fair.” He acknowledged. He stepped up to the table of assorted tools, inspecting them, and nodded before returning his eyes to her. Again that lopsided smile. “Don’t worry, though. I promise I’m good at my job, even if I don’t have my own horns to practice on.”

Her face burned, blood flushing hot in her veins at the sudden and abrupt reminder of what she was here for. Of what he was here for. “…Is that something people worry about?” She found herself asking, struck by how practiced those words had seemed, like he’d said them – or some variation of them – a great many times.

“Eh, sometimes.” He shrugged, then went over to pull the rest of the curtains closed. “It’s not something people expect, anyway. A human ceracurist, I mean.”

“I definitely didn’t,” she muttered, not quite under her breath, and he snickered.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” He offered a smile, and then – to her surprise – a short polite bow, in the human style, fist clasped over his heart. She’d not seen anyone do that since she was a child. “I’m Callum, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Thoughts suddenly muddled by some very old memories, she blinked, then nodded cautiously. “Rayla.” She hesitated. “Same?” Under the circumstances, she shouldn’t have found it nice to meet him. But, unaccountably, she did.

“Is it okay if we get started?” He asked then, nodding to his table of implements. “Don’t want to hurry you, but this does take a while.”

Whatever ease she’d managed to find in the brief conversation abruptly fled her, and she went still and wordless. She glanced at him, at his face, for all of a second before the mortification overcame her and she had to hide behind her hands. “Moon above,” she muttered, into her palms, shoulders hunching. “Ugh.”

There was a pause. “You alright there?” His voice was only half joking.

“…Yeah.” She said eventually, and forced her hands down. “Just…”

He sounded sympathetic. “Never had your horns done outside the family, huh?” She made some sort of affirmative noise, and he nodded understandingly. “It’s okay, we get a lot of that here. If it helps, just remember that it’s a professional setting, and doesn’t come with the normal implications, okay?”

She sighed. “I’ll do my best.” Despite that resolution, though, she still couldn’t help the embarrassed grumble when he draped a gown around her front and shoulders, ostensibly to shield her clothes from horn debris, and leaned the chair she was in back towards the basin.

“Do you prefer to have a hair-shield on, or to have your hair washed afterwards?” He asked, after a moment, and she balked. She hadn’t even realised that was an option. But – of course, otherwise people would have to leave the salon with their hair wet with horn-oil and full of disgusting keratin dust and flakes…

“Hair shield,” she opted, quickly, and he hummed his agreement.

“No problem.” He pulled something from the table with a rustling noise. “Does mean I won’t be able to get at the first centimetre or so of your horns, though, so keep that in mind.”

Worth it, she thought. It was something of a mercy, even. The horns themselves were just insensate keratin on the outsides…but the skin at the beds? That was sensitive. She’d be glad to avoid that particular intimacy.

Even as she thought it, the ceracurist lowered something over one of her horns, and then the other, perceptible by the light and gentle weight grazing over them. She went utterly still, and peered up to try to see in the mirror what he was doing. It was a kind of…hood, or shroud, with two horn-holes in it. And some sort of drawstring around both holes. She watched with a bizarre and anxious tension as he pressed the hood down and then tightened the drawstrings around the base of her horns until they were flush with the hornbeds.

Then, visible in the mirror, he paused and looked her horns over. His expression didn’t change much, but she could see the minute lift of his eyebrows. Her face burned. “Been a while,” she offered, by way of explanation for the state of them, and she saw his smile in the reflection.

“You’ve done a pretty good job by yourself, really.” He said generously, dipping something into the basin with a distinct watery splash. “The oversides are pretty neatly filed.” Briefly, there was the lightest sensation of weight on her right horn, like he’d touched a fingertip to it. A shiver of apprehension stiffened her shoulders. “You’ve done this ridge a bit flat, though. And the undersides…” He paused, like he couldn’t think of anything charitable to say on that moment’s notice.

Rayla closed her eyes, embarrassed and unnerved at once. “Ugh.”

“They’re hard to get to, I know,” he soothed, and then planted a wet soapy cloth on the horn in question. “It’s okay. I can fix it up.”

She sighed, neck prickling with tension. “Sure.”

The next few minutes she sat silently warring with her impulse to twitch at every touch on her horns. Given the ceracurist spent said minutes washing those horns, this was a considerable challenge. The sensation of heat from warm water radiating through the keratin wasn’t unfamiliar, and neither was the scrub of the brush – but she’d never experienced either outside the company of family before. It was unsettling. Reminding herself that it was professional didn’t help that, either – all it did was calm the flush in her cheeks a little.

“I’m guessing you moved here recently, then.” The ceracurist – Callum – said after a while. “Away from family.”

She startled a little, and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. As best she could, anyway, with her head tipped mostly backwards. Her nose obstructed most of her view from this angle. “…Yeah. Few months back.”

He paused. “You’re a student?” He guessed, and she supposed it wasn’t a difficult leap to make. She was the right age, this part of the city was packed with students, and the first term had started nearly three months ago in March. The conclusion was obvious. She offered a vague hum of agreement to confirm it, and he was silent for a while. “That’s actually kind of impressive,” he said at last. “Most of the other new students with tricky horns gave up trying to do it themselves after like, a month. Not three. You’ve been managing pretty well.”

Rayla snorted. “Tricky horns?” She repeated, ignoring the rest for now, and he huffed at her.

“Moonshadow, Skywing, you know. Tricky horns.” He elaborated. She could practically hear the smile in his voice. “The Sunfire elves manage pretty well, theirs are simple enough.”

“And meanwhile we have the most annoying kind of all,” Rayla muttered, of her own race. “Stupid ridges and all.”

“Well, if you’ve not seen a Skywing elf when they’re casting their shells, maybe hold off on making that call.” He sounded amused. “But yeah, you guys don’t exactly have it easy. We get a lot of Moonshadow elves coming in here for horn help.”

“Students?”

“Mostly. But there’s other elves around who don’t have anyone in their personal lives they’d trust enough, too. So they come here.” He removed the brush, wiped her horns off, and went for a distinctive tool on the table. An electric buffer. Considerably faster and more effective than doing it by hand, she knew, but they were expensive enough that a lot of elves didn’t have one. Her family had, though. They all shared the tools. So she knew what to expect.

The noise of it started up, and accordingly their conversation dwindled. She felt the buzz of the buffer against her right horn a moment later, angled carefully into one of the ridges there. As always, the sensation hummed straight through the keratin to the vaguely-sensitive skin beneath; it tingled. The next while passed like that, with the ceracurist occasionally sitting her up and coaxing her to move her head this way or that to get better angles on her horns, paying particular attention to the neglected undersides. She didn’t even want to think about how many keratin flakes must be littering the gown he’d put on her.

Her inner-horn had gone thoroughly numb from the vibrations by the time he switched the buffer off and set it aside to get the cloth again. “I’ll just wipe this down and go for a second run, then do the same on your other horn, alright?” He said, soothingly, probably seeing how she twitched at every motion, uncertain what he’d do next.

She tried to relax a little. It was uncomfortable, yes, but…this was his job, and it – that was all it was. Plenty of elves had their horns done by ceracurists. It was fine. “Right.” She muttered, and tried not to flinch when she felt the weight of the cloth on her horn again. More to distract herself than anything else, she asked “How long have you been doing this?” Except, once she’d actually asked, she was curious. How did a human even end up working in a horn salon? Why was he in an elven city in the first place?

The ceracurist huffed, and said, impishly, “This? Probably coming up to ten minutes, so far.” He tapped her horn cheerfully, as if to indicate it, and went back to wiping. Her cheeks heated instantly; she couldn’t exactly help it, with that very direct reminder that he was touching her horns.

She rolled her eyes anyway. “Ha-ha,” she said, dryly, and he snickered at her.

“About two years, now.” He relented after a moment. “I’m only in a few times a week, but, eh. It’s a hobby. And I get paid for it, so.” He shrugged, then went for the buffer again. Accordingly, there was no more talking for a while, but in that interim her interest grew. He looked around her age, or maybe even younger…and he’d been doing this for years?

She’d assumed, from his accent, that he came from one of the human countries. Possibly even Katolis, though she wasn’t great at telling the different West Xadia accents apart. But if he’d been living here for years…was he a resident? Long-term? That was rare. The curiosity nagged at her enough that she half-forgot the embarrassment of having her horns handled by a stranger, and when he put the buffer down again, she said “You don’t have a Gullcrest accent.”

“That’s probably one of the politest ways anyone’s tried to ask me where I’m from,” he mused, and for a second she felt like an absolute racist boor before he waved dismissively at her. He explained “It’s fine, people get curious, I don’t mind. I didn’t grow up here or anything, I just came for the university.”

Rayla startled. “You’re a student?”

He smiled, and this time he looked decidedly proud of himself. “Mastery student, even.” He agreed cheerfully, and she stopped short, turning her head over her shoulder to squint at him. “You know, it’s hard to work on your horns if you’re facing me,” he told her, very reasonably, but she was busy inspecting his face. He had to be around the same age as her, surely. And he was on a masters degree?

“How old are you?” She demanded, suddenly completely uncertain of her ability to judge human ages.

The ceracurist looked pleased at the question, as if he relished every chance to show off the absurdly young age at which he was pursuing a mastery in…whatever it was he studied. “Eighteen.” He said, and then gently nudged her into turning around again. She made an incredulous face at him, but obliged after a moment. “How about you?”

“Nineteen,” she answered, distractedly, trying to parse the mystery of her ceracurist’s unlikely academic circumstances. Generally people were only allowed to pursue a mastery when they’d done an apprenticeship or undergraduate degree already, and those were never less than three years long. An apprenticeship, then? She couldn’t imagine a fifteen-year-old being let into the university…

Unceremoniously, the buzz of the buffer interrupted her thoughts and the conversation, so they fell quiet again. It was him who spoke first when he was done with the first pass on her other horn. “What are you studying?”

However logical it was as a follow-up question, it still caught her off-guard. “Er.” She scrambled for the name, mind suddenly blank. A moment later she supplied “Professional Security. And Tactics.”

“Huh.” He sounded bemused. “I know someone on that course, actually. He’s second year now.”

Rayla snorted. “How’s he finding it?”

“Says there’s way more math than he thinks is fair. And he thinks Professor Sadris is evil.”

That neatly matched her observations thus far, at least. “Sounds about right.” After that, the second buffing run silenced them again, and she was left in thought. What would a human be studying at Gullcrest at a mastery level? How long had he lived here? She’d seen a handful of humans at the university, but…well, they stood out. There weren’t a lot of them. Had she seen him before, perhaps? There was something weirdly familiar about him…

She was all set to come out and ask one of the dozen questions on her mind when the buffer stopped, but he just said “I’m about done with this now, so it’s onto the polishing next. That won’t take as long, but there probably will be horn-polish splatter, so…brace yourself, I guess.”

“Isn’t that what the hair shield is for?” She asked, neatly distracted, and was surprised to realise that most of her nerves had disappeared, somewhere between her curiosity and the human ceracurist’s efficient work.

“And the apron,” he agreed. “But it does still get messy. You want any colours?”

“Colour?” She echoed, disconcerted, and he seemed to understand what she was asking.

“Horn polish can come in colours, with dyes in it. It’s a really easy way to add colour to horns. If you’re just here for basic care, though, that’s fine.”

“Er.” She thought for a moment on that startling gradient of colour on the receptionist’s horns. Was that how theirs had been done, or was there some other method needed for something that striking? Either way… “No, no colours. Thanks, though?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. You’ve got a nice base horn colour, anyway.” He said, as if making comments like that was the most normal thing in the world. For a ceracurist, it might well be; but her cheeks flushed an instant and virulent red regardless. “It’s a good clear dark purple. It’ll look great when it’s polished up.”

Rayla wondered, amid her embarrassment, when she’d last seen her horns polished. Her parents did the buffing, sure, but polishing…not so much. It was a lot of work without the special oils and tools. She thought maybe they’d done it once, when she was pretty young, for one particular formal occasion. Aside from that, though… “I don’t even know what my horns look like polished,” she admitted, flustered, and he paused for a moment.

“Huh.” He said, just a little surprised. “Well, the colour goes darker, and a lot shinier. Looks really nice, I think. You’ll see.” And, with that, he uncapped the horn polish, the smell hitting her like a slap to the face. Her nose wrinkled, and she wondered how many times she’d have to wash her hair to get the residual stink of it out. The hair shield probably wouldn’t be able to keep all of it off, after all.

Her ceracurist seemed entirely oblivious to how awful the smell was at close range, but she supposed he’d had practice withstanding it. Either that, or he’d burned out his sense of smell in the first week of his alleged two years. She closed her eyes a couple of minutes in, the acrid reek of the stuff making them water and sting. It felt like she was dousing her sinuses with acid every time she inhaled.

Callum chuckled at her, as if he knew precisely what she was thinking. “The stuff we use is a lot stronger than what you’re probably used to.” He said cheerfully. “Has a pretty interesting smell, right?”

“It feels like it’s burning my nose,” she complained, lifting a hand to rub at it with annoyance. “And it’s making my eyes water.” The sensation was rather alike being too close to the epicentre of a very enthusiastic onion-chopping endeavour.

“Yeah, we have spells on to keep it out of our eyes so we can actually see what we’re doing,” Callum said, uncapping the bottle again. It decanted a fresh wave of acrid reek into the surrounding air. “It’s not harmful, though, just sort of stings. Plus, I’m only using the full-strength stuff because your horns haven’t been done in a long time. It’s a lot weaker when it’s just a normal touch-up.” Though she couldn’t see his face, she could practically hear the grin. “Come back a little sooner next time, and it won’t smell this bad.”

Come back? “Ugh,” she said, en lieu of addressing that statement properly, and fell quiet to ruminate disconcertedly on what he’d said. Come back? She hadn’t thought about it, but – of course, she’d need to come back. She was going to be at university for years, and would barely be home for any of that. If she didn’t want her horns to get disgusting again, trips like this would have to be an ongoing thing.

“Every month, is usually a good bet,” Callum said, as if she’d actually spoken the question that was suddenly on her mind. “Usually between half-moon and new moon is the best time for you guys. You get a lot more active keratin growth around full moon, so if you wait till later, the work we do will usually stay put until the next month.”

Rayla frowned at the mirror. “Do humans have some kind of mind-reading power I don’t know about?” Her tone was dry, for all that she was a little off-put at how well he could apparently read her. It…well, it was useful information, though. She hadn’t known that keratin grew faster around Full Moon, for all that it made sense. She wondered if she should be bothered by learning something about how her own horns worked from a human.

He snorted, but took a few seconds to respond. “Not me, that’s for sure.” He said, lightly, and finally put the stinking polishing-stuff down. “Can’t speak for other humans, though. I think we probably don’t have secret mind-reading societies anywhere, but you never know. Weirder things have happened.”

She thought of the huge scandal of a few years back and made a face. “True enough,” she sighed, turning her neck to inspect what he was doing. “Are you done yet?”

Having moved enough to have eyes on him, she was able to watch as his lips turned up in a wry smile. “You’re that eager to escape, huh?”

Rayla rolled her eyes at him. “Escape the polishing? Yes. It stinks.”

He snickered, but nodded, and went for a more normal cleaning cloth that she was deeply glad to see. “Yeah, that part’s done. I’ll rinse off now and then put some oil on to dry, and that’ll be it.” He wrung the cloth over the basin and then coaxed her head around again, lifting his hands to her horns.

She blinked. “What, ‘it’ as in done?”

“Yep. I like to think I’m pretty speedy at the whole buff-and-polish thing by now.”

“…Huh.” Nonplussed, Rayla went quiet.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Wasn’t as bad as you thought?” He guessed, as on-point as ever, and she felt her cheeks heat again. It was quite a question for someone to ask when their hands happened to be on your horns.

Rayla folded her arms under the protective gown. “….Maybe,” she admitted, begrudgingly, and sat there while the warmth of the water and his hands crept through her horns. The gentle slide of the cloth was easily perceptible, a shift of weight and echoing sensation in the living core. A stranger’s hands, and she was just…sitting there. She couldn’t quite get her head around it. But he was right. It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.

“Make an appointment for next month, when you’re on your way out,” he suggested, setting the cloth back and uncapping some other sort of oil. This one, in sharp contrast to the polish, let off a surprisingly pleasant smell. Faintly sweet, and reminiscent of the lighter oils Ethari used on some of his woodcraft. A pang of nostalgia, just shy of homesickness, stabbed through her gut. “That way it’ll be all sorted for next time.”

“Mm.” She shrugged lightly, noncommittal, a little perturbed at the little secretive thing unfurling in her chest that wanted to come back. Not for the mortifying ordeal of having her horns handled, certainly not, but…

With the finishing oil applied, Callum released the drawstrings from around her horns and pulled the hair-cover away. “All done. Take a look,” he invited, nudging her head up, and reached out to remove the gown while she automatically looked where he’d pointed her. For a moment, she was utterly stunned, wide-eyed at the unfamiliar sight of her horns gleaming darkly in the mirror, perfect to the every ridge. She was still silent when he spoke again, saying “See? Just like I told you. Your horns polish up really nicely.”

She looked up reflexively, expression unguarded, and could do nothing to stop the quicksilver flush that his words brought to her cheeks. He was smiling at her, wide and genuine and a little lopsided.

It took what felt like far too long for her to manage to speak. “I suppose?” She offered, averting her eyes to the mirror, where she watched herself schooling her face into something a little less transparent.

He patted her shoulder, friendly, then reached out a hand – five-fingered and alien – to help her up. She stared at it for a moment, then took it. His fingers were warm, and soft from horn-oil. She could feel a trace of it left on her skin when he let go. “It was good to meet you, Rayla,” he said, with that same smile. “Maybe I’ll see you next time.”

She averted her eyes for a moment. “…Maybe.” She agreed, finally, and managed to master herself enough to flash a tentative smile back at him. “Er. Thanks, Callum.”

Rayla was a little too busy trying not to look outwardly flustered to pay much attention to the next few minutes, but as she found herself escorted back to the reception area, she felt strangely disappointed to see the door close on her ceracurist. The receptionist was eyeing her appraisingly as she eventually summoned the presence of mind to go fishing for her money.

“Looks like he treated you well enough. You’re not all tense anymore.” They observed, looking pleased for some reason. “Good on you for not making a fuss, either.”

She blinked, drawn out of her reverie. “What would I make a fuss about?” She questioned, taken-aback.

“He’s human,” the receptionist said, like it was obvious. “People can be stupid about it sometimes. But you weren’t, which is nice, because otherwise we’d have had to throw you out with bad horns, and that would be embarrassing for everyone. I assume I’m booking you in for next month?”

Rayla was still trying to process the words and didn’t register the question for a moment. Distractedly, she said “Yes? I think?”

The receptionist eyed her. “Three weeks,” they decided. “We’ll book you in for waning crescent. Callum works weekends and Wednesday afternoons only, so if you want another time, you’ll need to go with a different ceracurist.” They looked at her expectantly. For a second Rayla was flustered by the implied suggestion, but then she realised that it was probably just standard practice for people to see the same ceracurist every time. Certainly it would be less uncomfortable that way. She couldn’t even imagine having to put her horns into the hands of a new stranger every month.

She cleared her throat, blinked, then tried to consult her mental schedule. “Three weeks…” she muttered to herself, thinking. “Er. Wednesday afternoon?”

They flipped through their papers, squinting. “Four-thirty? He’s pretty booked for the rest of that window.”

“That works,” she said, hoping her voice sounded normal and not-flustered, and supplied her name to have it written into the schedule. It was another weird anachronism; most people would have written it into a computer, but here this elf was using a notebook instead. It was set aside by the potted plant once closed; the plant in question broke off from its recitation of music to mimic the sound of the doorbell note-perfect. That was the problem with melodaisies. You could teach them all the music you liked, but as soon as they heard someone whistling, they might well just start imitating that instead.

“Thanks for coming,” the receptionist said, after shooting an exasperated glance at their plant. “We’ll see you next month.”

Rayla took the hint, and went at once for the door. She escaped with the ring of a bell, a palpable sense of relief, and considerably shinier horns than she’d gone in with.

---

End chapter.

Notes:

Welcome to the first meet-cute I’ve ever written! Also the first story whose entire purpose is essentially romance. Because it’s me, there is a broader potential plot thread at work, as well as cool worldbuilding, but given I have no idea how much of this I’m actually going to write, I’m not really worrying about that too much at this point.

Hope everyone had fun with this first chapter, and that everyone is curious about what the heck is up with Callum.

Story notes-

Setting:

I’d loosely describe the setting as canon spliced with piaj twisted by most of a millennium of alternate history and technological development. Essentially, it’s sort of a modern AU, but not really.

Because this story is for fun, I’m wiping real-world-modern vibes over it wherever I want to/think I can justify it, and same goes for my own personal university experience vibes.

Worldbuilding:

A great, great deal of the worldbuilding is taken from my primary project – Peace Is A Journey – and adapted for the alternate historical context that this setting involves. I have even borrowed several elf OCs (at least three) from piaj and its sequel. History in this setting diverges from canon some time after the banishment of humans from Eastern Xadia – though I’ve not narrowed the timeline down precisely, it’s likely that the first couple hundred years of history went very similarly to how I’ve ironed it out in piaj, though this isn’t likely to be hugely important.

However, despite the similarities, this AU’s broader global history and foundational metaphysics are completely different to piaj. Worldbuilding and metaphysical specifics that aren’t incompatible with this difference, which is most of them, remain.

I’ve involuntarily put a fair amount of thought into the setting’s worldbuilding, and a lot of it is pretty cool, but considering it is a for-fun project, I’m not too concerned about specifics or ‘balancing’, so to speak. This means that I will be trying not to put huge amounts of thought into why some technologies are advanced and some aren’t. I am trying to keep the Worldbuilding Complexity setting to a dull roar, pretty much, and only develop the stuff that matters.

Glossary:

Ceracurist: a professional horn-salonist; one who cares for horns. From Greek ‘keras’, horn (same root as keratin or polycerate), and Latin ‘cura’, care (same root as manicure or pedicure or even cure). Technically this sort of root-mixing is sometimes seen as bad form, but it works just fine in context.

Mageskein: magic internet, pretty much. This is used almost exclusively in Eastern Xadia.

Gullcrest: an elven city located along the southern coast of Eastern Xadia. The majority of the story will take place here. The base concept and location of Gullcrest was taken from piaj worldbuilding and heavily adapted for the Ceracurist setting.

Extras:

A picture demonstrating an unpolished and a polished bull horn from the same pair, to demonstrate how much of a difference it makes.

#rayllum #tdp fic #tdp rayla #tdp callum #meet cute #modern AU #sort of #College AU #also sort of #Alternate history AU

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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Sparkle

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle)

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: It’s so fluffy!

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: thank you @rmtndew for the edit of Sy in glasses :D More Sy and Wispy? Why yes!

Henry Cavill Master List

“Uncle Sy,” Annie giggled at her uncle, as he pulled a face. “Sit still.” Her voice going firmer.

Beside her, Willow had her hand on her hips shaking her head at their uncle. “Uncle Sy, we need you to stay very still.”

“Fine, fine.” He gave in sitting statue straight, still as could be.

“Close your eyes, please.” Annie instructed.

Doing as he was asked, Sy closed his eyes and leaning against the couch to support his back. Cross legged on the floor, a mound of pillows under him, he fought the smirk that kept threatening to creep onto his face. The two little girls painting the floral scented mud, clay, paint? Whatever the cool, thick stuff was onto his face. Around his beard, across his cheeks and forehead. Sy felt the soft brush that Aimee had handed them against his skin.

“You know Sy,” Aimee's voice greeted him, yet his eyes remained closed, “this stuff is actually pretty good. It might even help brighten that complexion of yours. Tired and sunburned was so last year.”

Snorting, Sy shook his head, both nieces scolding him for moving while they tried to apply the mask. Directing him to pucker his lips, Willow stood in front of him, a glob of lip moisturizer on her brush, she slapped it on spreading it thickly against his red chapped lips. The girls were taking good care of their Uncle Sy.

At least they wanted to do it at home this time. Sy was unsure of the product quality, but the service was far better and cheaper than when he'd taken them to an actual spa. Now that had been a sight, the look on the woman's face when the giant, bearded man in boots strode into the salon with the two little girls in tow. Despite the initial shock, Sy had to hand it to them, those ladies were magical.

He'd left feeling like his hands, feet, and face had been kissed by angels and butterflies. Hell, he'd even let Willow and Annie pick out a polish for his toes. Sitting in the chair chatting with the woman painting his toes, while his nieces had watched from their own pedicure chairs, Sy learned that men coming in to dote on their daughters and nieces wasn't really all that uncommon. He, however, was one of the first to ask for Pompeii Purple toes. The shade had really brought out his eyes.

In his sister's living room, Sy chuckled when Willow announced that he absolutely needed to trim that scraggly beard of his. In their life time, neither of his nieces had ever bore witness to their uncle without his beard. He liked it too much to part with it. Besides, the women loved it. Clearing his throat, Sy opened his eyes, a mocking frown on his face.

“Don't you dare touch my beard, understood bub?” He smirked. Willow nodded and Annie, standing just out of sight giggled. “There will be no cutting of my beard, until I say so.”

“Oh come on, Sy.” Aimee teased from the kitchen. “You could use a trim,” she winked at Annie.

“I would prefer to do it myself, thank you sister dearest.” He winked at Willow, a near impossible task with the clay beginning to set on his face.

“What if we just make it pretty?” Annie piped up, shuffling into the room with a hairbrush and bows in her hands. “Can we?”

“Please, Uncle Sy.” Willow pulled out the puppy dog eyes. Bouncing on her tip toes with excitement.

Playfully grumbling, Sy waited a minute or two. Letting the little girls get antsy before agreeing. Under some conditions. Nothing but a comb and some pink sparkly bows went into his beard. If they so much as tugged the wrong way, Sy was combing it himself. His beard was his pride and joy, right after his Wispy. He'd worked hard over the years to grow this bad boy.

“Gently,” He reminded them, lifting his chin for Willow to gingerly take the comb through his thick beard.

Climbing onto the couch behind him, Annie sat with her legs crossed gently rubbing a hair brush through his growing curls. A full out pamper day wasn't entirely bad. Enjoying his “spa treatment”, Sy winced when he heard Aimee giggling like a child on too much sugar. He knew his sister well enough to know that this was not going to be good.

“Aim, what in the hel-ck are you doing?” Sy asked glancing at his sister. Her phone poised as she giggled and shrugged.

“I thought ma might like to see. Maybe fire one off to the boys. You still in touch with the Major? Show him what retirement does for ya?”

“You wouldn't dare,”

“Send one to the Major? No. But I would send it to ma and everyone else we know. Come on Sy, you're adorable. You should let me share this on that mommy blog, it would be a hit.” She laughed. “Former Army Captain attacked by Girl Scouts.”

Sy replied with a grunt. More than one single mother, and a few not so single, on that damn blog Aimee was part of had themselves hot and bothered for the youngest Syverson. Every time Aimee mentioned her brother, at least one woman would ask if he was seeing somebody or how he liked children, who weren't his. Sy liked children fine, but he had no interest in taking on any to parent.

“Leave Uncle Sy alone,” Willow pouted, as she put the last bow into his beard. “Don't be mean, mommy.”

“I wasn't being mean, baby girl. Uncle Sy and I were teasing. Now, why don't you finish up those bows and help him wash his face. You can't leave the mask on too long, remember.”

“Oops,”

“It's okay bub,” Sy pulled away from the hair styling by Annie. “You ladies clean up a bit out here and I will go clean my face off.”

Striding down the hall, Sy could feel the clay on his face hardening and drying. If nothing else his pores would be flawless for a few days. Chuckling as he went, he could hear Annie and Willow in the living room. No doubt discussing their next plan for their uncle's beauty treatment. If he had to, there was a lovely yellow nail polish that he'd been eyeing in the box of tricks. It may not be the right season for yellow, but it would surely make the hair on his big toes really pop.

In the bathroom, he grabbed a wash cloth and turned the taps. Allowing the water to reach a nice, warm temperature he began scrubbing the dried clay away from his face. The bows in his hair and beard were a sight to behold. Admiring the handy work, Sy stood for a few seconds looking at the man in the mirror. The one grizzled, gruff, hard as nails and fearless Captain was reduced to a soft and gentle giant.

He loved spending the time with the kids, allowing them to have their fun, before Uncle Sy packed up and drove back across town. It was no wonder people were forever asking him when he'd have his own. Ah well, it was better this way. Sy enjoyed the company of the kids, but all the time and he would be even more grizzled and cranky than he was when he was stationed over in the desert.

Being home had it's perks, like getting to be with his family whenever he wanted. Having sleepovers with the kids, whenever Willow decided that he was lonely in his house. Or how she was forever trying to set him up with any woman they came across, while he had her out. That one was less and less cute, especially as she had somehow been targeting only married women lately.

The last thing Sy wanted was to get his ass kicked by some woman's husband or wife, for hitting on their wife because some kid said she was pretty. Shaking his head, he finished checking himself in the mirror to make sure he had all of the clay off.

Cleaned up and refreshed Sy joined the girls in the living room.

“Ladies, what's next?”

“Lunch!” “Make up!”

Laughing at their very different ideas, he nodded to Annie. “I agree lunch is the much better idea, make up can be after.”

“But mommy said we could go out for lunch. You can't go out unless you have a proper face on.” Willow pouted. Annie sighed. Her cousin had a point.

“Girls,” Aimee spoke, she was about to do everything in her mom power, to get Sy out of this one. As amused as it would be, seeing her brother go to lunch in a full face of make up.

“No, no she's right.” Sy nodded in agreement. “Aim, why not let Annie do your make up and Wispy can do mine. Then we'll all be ready for lunch, hel-ck, I'll even pay. Treat all of my girls.”

“Yeah!” The cheers went up from the girls.

Aimee, rolling her eyes and making a mental note to kill her brother later on. She would never forgive him, nor forget. Some day, she would get him back. This is when she should suggest wearing their best dresses – Sy included. Instead, she'd pay him back when he least expected. Maybe the next time, she'd insist they go for lunch wearing some over the top princess costumes.

Sy chuckled, what did they have to lose? At 11 years old, Annie was more than capable at putting together some make up. Willow was eccentric with her colour palate, but Sy wasn't worried much about that.

“Mommy, please. Please, we can all do our make up and go for lunch.”

“I hate you,” Aimee whispered passing her laughing brother, sitting down on the floor. “Okay, girls, let's get to it. Then we can make Uncle Sy take us for the best lunch, we've ever had.”

“Drive thru at Burger King isn't that fancy,” laughing, Sy nudged his sister with his elbow.

“Oh, but Sy if we have our best faces on, we need something better than cheap burgers in a bag. I was hoping maybe we could go to Janet's.”

It was Sy's turn to roll his eyes and stifle a groan. Of course Aimee would insist they go inside to eat. Saturday was the busiest day of the week for the small diner. Whatever, Sy was man enough to take it. With more confidence than anyone had ever seen, he would walk into that diner, head high, and his beard bows sparkling. The things he did to keep these children happy.

If it meant buying a hundred ponies, wearing full make up, and walking across a floor of legos – Sy would do it all to see these kids smile.

“I love Janet's!” Willow squealed dancing on her tiptoes, nearly poking her uncle in the eye with the eye shadow brush she was using. The hot pink creme shadow she had chosen for him was really going to pop with his dark beard. “Uncle Sy, please. Please can we go? You said that you would take me there the next time we went for lunch, you said that I could have a big sundae and...”

“Sy?” A sideways glance at her baby brother, Aimee puckered her lips for Annie to apply some lipstick. Offering the kids ice cream as a meal wasn't a crime, but it would explain why they sometimes came home bouncing around like mad hornets in an old coke can.

“Wispy, you're not supposed to tell your ma that I let you at ice cream as a meal.”

“Sorry, but can I?”

“Maybe for dessert, you can Annie can shade a giant sundae.” Aimee reasoned.

“Fine, but the next time we go....” Staring at her uncle, Willow pouted.

“Whatever you want, bubs.” Smirking at his sister, Sy conveniently pointed to the blush in the bag, asking Willow if she thought the orangeish colour would work for him. “Whatever you want.”

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill

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