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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years

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The Perks of Cold Weather

Hello! This is just a whole lot of fluff because I need some positive vibes this week. Feel free to send some requests my way if you’d like! They can be as specific or as vague as you want and I’ll do my best. None of my ideas are currently working for me.

Summary: Reader and Spencer have some fun in the snow in a small town in Alaska.

Words: 2996

Warnings: none I think

When you first started at the BAU, you were quick to realize the group was more like a family than coworkers. It was clear in the little things they did for each other on case, like the way JJ and Spencer would comfort each other on particularly difficult cases to the slight bickering that would inevitably start up between Derek and Emily about anything that didn’t really matter.

You were quick to find your place in the little family as well. Well, not find it so much as fall into it, but you didn’t mind. You were only 28 years old, meaning you were the youngest member of the BAU. Being the youngest meant a lot of teasing from the “older sibling” personalities of everyone except Rossi and Hotch. Their personalities were much more parent-esque. With how much they’d tease you, you were always quick to jump on the chance to tease them for a change. The perfect opportunity arose when a case came up in Alaska.

Penelope walked through the bullpen, calling you all into the roundtable room right before you left for the day. “Hello my wonderful crime fighters. I wish I had better news, but this case is a real whammy. Three women have been found stabbed to death in a small town in Alaska.”

The collective groans of just about everyone in the room were quiet, but obvious.

“I know, I know. Another freezing cold case. I wish I could send you to LA all the time, but alas bad guys aren’t deterred by freezing temperatures.” She went on to explain the details of the case before Hotch dismissed everyone with his typical “Wheels up in 30.”

The team dispersed to collect their go bags- and winter items for the cold weather they would surely be facing in Alaska- before meeting on the jet. When you got there, everyone else was already boarded, and you couldn’t help but feel the low energy of everyone on the plane.

“Don’t tell me the lot of you are afraid of a little snow?” You can’t stop the smirk from appearing on your face as you sit down across from Spencer and adjacent to Emily, Derek, and JJ.

“Big words from someone who hasn’t been on a case in Alaska yet.” Derek’s reply comes without hesitation. The grin on your face only grows when you realize that everyone really is feeling low because of the impending winter wonderland.

“Don’t tell me you’re excited for the cold weather?” JJ shivers just asking the question.

“Of course I am! I’ve always loved the cold. There’s something so magical about watching snow fall. It feels like Christmas!” The four of them stare at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You are seriously telling me none of you like the snow?” You scan all of their faces in disbelief, eyes landing on Spencer last.

“Don’t look at me. I’m from Nevada, it’s basically the desert. Winter in Las Vegas is comparable to fall in DC. The last time it snowed with any significance was in 2003 and that was only an inch.” Spencer nearly starts rambling about weather patterns across the US, but cuts himself off.

“You all are seriously killing my good mood with your bad vibes. I will change at least one of your minds by the end of this case” You say in a huff while putting your headphones on. You try to catch up on some sleep before you all reconvene to discuss the case.

After the briefing and right before landing, everyone starts bundling up in layers upon layers of sweatshirts, jackets, coats, gloves, scarves, and hats. You pull a sweater on over your long sleeve and zip up your FBI jacket, adding a cute beanie more for aesthetics than warmth. You’ve never been one to get overly cold, so you skip a few layers everyone else put on.

The rest of the team marches off the jet as if they would rather be anywhere else, but you don’t let it deter you. You exit the jet with a smile on your face, taking a deep breath of the cool Alaskan air.

“You really are enjoying yourself?” Spencer asks with a small smile. You meet his eye, the look on his face giving you butterflies, before responding.

“Of course I am. It smells like winter!” The two of you share a laugh as you get in the SUV headed to the police precinct to actually get to work.

The case only lasted two days. You were glad to have solved it so quickly, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss the snow. After the case files are all packed away and Hotch goes off to coordinate the jet, you head outside to absorb every last ounce of winter possible.

“I thought I might find you out here.” Spencer sits next to you on the bench as you stare at the flakes falling from the sky.

“What can I say, I just really love the cold.” You reply without turning your head. “Maybe it’s weird, but I would pick cold over hot any day.”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all! I think it’s kind of cute actually.” That gets your attention and you turn to see he’s looking at his hands in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. “I like how happy you are when you look at the snow.”

Of course, that makes you smile again. “Thank you, Spence.” You can feel your cheeks heating up, but you’re quickly distracted by the sound of Derek calling the two of you back into the station.

“Hey lovebirds, Hotch needs us.” You roll your eyes at Derek before standing up, offering your hand to Spencer to help him up. He takes your hand, squeezing it slightly as he rises from the bench. He only drops your hand when he goes to hold the door open for you, leading you back inside. The team gathers in the conference room, Hotch walking in with a grim expression.

“I’ll cut to the chase. We won’t be able to fly home until this evening. The snow from last night on top of the storm that’s about to pass through is too much to clear right now.” Everyone, including you, sighs before nodding in understanding. As much as you would love to stay longer, you know it sucks that everyone can’t go home to their families. “This case is wrapped up, so feel free to just explore the town or relax in the hotel. We should be able to take off at 9:00 pm, so I expect to see all of you on the jet by 8:45.” Those words were music to your ears. As everyone begins to pack up to head out, you turn to Spencer.

“I can’t believe this. It’s like a snow day! I’ve always loved snow days! We would always go outside, have a snowball fight, build a snowman, and try to build an igloo but end up giving up when it collapsed for the third time.” He chuckles at your enthusiasm, but nods along as you both walk out of the precinct toward the hotel just down the street. “Then we’d go in for lunch, make hot chocolate and cookies, and watch all our favorite movies.”

“Is that what you want to do today?” Spencer asks as you both walk into the hotel lobby.

“I mean, in a perfect world, yeah. That is exactly what I would want to do today.” You smile wistfully as you think back to your childhood snow days with your siblings.

“Well then, let’s see how perfect we can make the world, just for today.” Spencer’s smiling as he says it, taking in the confusion and shock on your face.

“You mean… You want to build a snowman? With me?” Your heart is beating so forcefully, you wouldn’t be surprised if it flew right out of your chest.

“Yeah, and all the other things too.” Spencer’s words are soft and unsure, contrasting the confidence of his previous statement.

“But you don’t like the cold weather…” You simply can’t fathom why he would volunteer to do these cold weather activities when just two days ago he was talking about how little snow he experienced when he was younger.

“But you do, and we’re stuck here anyway. So, why not?” Hearing that he would spend his day off playing in the snow simply because you want to does things to you that you chose to ignore for the time being.

“O- okay… yeah, let’s do it! ” The two of you smile at each other for a few seconds before you each bring your things to you respective rooms with a plan to meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes.

When you get to your room you pull out the warmest clothes you brought to Alaska. Although it would suffice for walking down the street, it’s not exactly made for playing in the snow. After getting dressed you meet Spencer in the lobby. He is dressed in warmer clothes than you, but still not snow proof.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea…” Your excitement to start this day with Spencer has dwindled since imaging the cold, wet clothes you’d end up in. “The key to a good snow day is waterproof clothes and we definitely don’t have any. How am I going to make you like snow if you’re freezing and wet at the end of the day?” You would expect the resident genius to agree with you, but instead of a grim expression and a nod in agreement, Spencer’s smile grows.

“Don’t worry about it. Just come with me.” He leads you outside of the hotel with his hand on the small of your back all the way down to the town store. “What needs to be waterproof? We can find snow pants, jackets, gloves, and boots right here.” He looks so pleased with himself as he leads you around the store to collect all the items you’ll need. He even picks out a sled for the two of you.

After checking out, he leads you back outside where you pull the waterproof gear on over your warm layers, tossing the tags into a nearby trash can. Before you can say anything, he is again leading you through the town with his hand on the small of your back. He stops when he reaches the park, turning to you once again.

“Where do you want to build the snowman?” You mirror the grin on his face as you run across the park to a flatter area.

You begin compressing the snow in your hands to form the ball that would eventually become the bottom layer of your snowman. Spencer copies your actions, forming a lopsided ball for the middle. You leave Spencer to work on the head while you search around the nearby trees for sticks to use as arms and rocks to use for the eyes and buttons.

After finding the perfect set of sticks, you return to see Spencer adding a carrot nose right in the middle of the head.

“I didn’t even see you buy carrots!” He laughs at your childlike enthusiasm, moving aside so you can add the sticks to the middle. You also add the rocks you gathered for the eyes and buttons. Spencer surprises you again by pulling out a hat and scarf to add the finish touches.

After forcing him to take a selfie with you and the snowman, you walk across the park to find a good sledding hill. You find the perfect hill, and offer to go down first since it’s going to take some effort to form the path. Spencer watches you scooching your way through the snow, forcing the sled down the hill, laughing hysterically. You haven’t been able to enjoy snow like this for years.

Spencer was hesitant to sled down the hill together, but one pout from you and he climbed on right away. The sled picked up pace is you barreled out of control, flipping and rolling down the hill.

You took the opportunity of a distracted Spencer to form a snow ball, waiting until he was only a few feet away to throw it at him. Of course, as soon as it hits him it’s game on. The two of you are running through the park, hiding behind trees, and dodging each other’s snowballs. Spencer, being uncoordinated, mostly missed you. That is, until the very end of the snowball fight when he hits you right in the face, the surprise causing you to fall to the ground.

“Y/N! Are you okay! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He’s cut off by your laughter.

“Relax Spence, its fine! It was powdery snow. It’s not like you hit me with a chunk of ice.” You smile at him as he helps you to a standing position. You’re so focused on standing up without slipping on the compressed snow beneath your feet, you don’t realize how close the two of you have become. When you look up to meet his eyes, your noses are nearly touching.

Without much thought for the consequences, you lean a few inches forward, ever so slightly brushing your lips against his.

Spencer is so stunned, it takes him much longer than he’d care to admit to reciprocate your affection. So long in fact, that you’ve pulled away and are frantically trying to think of something to say to save your friendship when he pulls you back in.

The two of you don’t pull away again until the need for air overpowers your need for each other. You stay close though, foreheads pressed together.

“Let me take you on a date. A real one where we go into knowing it’s a date.” Spencer says it all in one breath.

“Oh, Spence. This whole day has been a perfect date, even if we didn’t say it at first. But I would love to go on another with you.”

The two of you are all smiles as you walk back toward the café near your hotel. You’ve been outside so long it’s nearly dark- granted it gets dark around 4:00 this time of year in Alaska. Upon entering the café, Spencer is quick to order two hot chocolates and cookies to go.

“I know it’s not the same as baking them ourselves, but we don’t have access to an oven in the hotel.” He says, squeezing your hand before leading you out of the café.

You would blindly follow Spencer anywhere, but that doesn’t stop you from asking him about it. “Where are we going now? I thought we were going to eat…”

“Back to the hotel. We have one more thing to check off the list for your perfect snow day.” Of course he would remember your list from earlier in the day. “So tell me, what’s your favorite snow day movie?”

“That’s actually a tough question. It changes depending on the mood.” You are genuinely trying to think of the perfect movie to end the perfect day as you walk back into the hotel.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go up to your room and pick out a movie that fits ‘the mood’, and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes?” You simply nod in response, too lost in thought to contemplate where he could be going.

15 minutes later you have finally picked out a movie to watch when Spencer enters your room, carrying a takeout bag.

“I finally found a movie!” You smile at him as you show him your computer screen. Anastasia is queued on your Disney+.

“Perfect. We can now officially start our date.” He smiles, pulling the food out of the bag, he hands you a cup of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Your heart warms at the sight of it. You know Spencer has an eidetic memory, but you still get butterflies at the idea of him remembering your favorite cold weather food.

The two of you sit against the headboard, setting the computer between you to play the movie. After you’ve finished eating you shuffle around on the bed, moving the laptop so you could cuddle with Spencer.

“I’ve got another reason for you to like the cold weather.” You state matter-of-factly, eyes still trained on the movie.

“Yeah? What is it?” Spencer’s eyes are trained on your face.

“It’s better for cuddling.” A small grin appears on your face at the sound of Spencer’s airy laugh. He pulls you closer, both of you completely content.

As much as you love the cold and snow, dragging yourself out of Spencer’s arms and into the cold air to get to the jet on time was not an exciting task. In fact, it put you in a slightly sour mood, something Morgan was all too quick to pick up on.

“What’s the matter L/N? The cold weather got you down?” He laughs at your annoyed expression.

“Not a chance, Morgan. I quite enjoyed our little snow day actually.” You smile at Spencer as you pull your blanket from your go bag and sit on the couch.

“You actually played in the snow? It was only 22 degrees today!” You can’t help but shake your head. 22 degrees is cold, but nothing compared to how bad it can get in Alaska.

“We did indeed. I think I managed to turn Spencer on to the cold weather too.” Spencer sits down next to you encouraging you to share your blanket.

“How’d you manage that? I’ve been to on enough cases with Pretty Boy here to know he prefers the warmer ones.”

“It’s actually rather simple.” Spencer replies, shifting his arm around you on the back of the couch. You smile as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Colder climates make for better cuddles.”

tag list:

@mac99martin

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x y/n

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alegzandryan · 4 years

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Prepping for a Ritual

So since I am doing these things as we speak I thought I would go through some ritual things that I find useful, for anyone that feels overwhelmed or unprepared for ritual work. I know tumblr and tiktok have pushed a lot of easy jar spells on us, but there really is something more to a ritual setting, even a simple one. And as it goes without saying, this is my personal idea of a guide and everyone is entitled to their own opinion and practice.

Get your supplies ready the day before the ritual. ESPECIALLY if you are going outside/somewhere outside your home. Collect all the things you will need and put them together. This will give you a day to remember all the things you forgot before it's time, instead of in the middle of your ritual

Choose what you are going to wear the day before, too. Some people take aesthetic very seriously but others dont. Either way, give some thought to what you are wearing. Is that crystal necklace good for what you are doing? Are those pants comfortable enough to sit for 30 minutes in? Comfortability is just as important as presentation for ritual, so dont wear that corset that hurts you after 15 minutes. You will need to focus on more important things.

Foot wear is also super underrated. Are you hiking 10 minutes into the forest to find a ritual spot? Wear boots. Are you in your house and want to go barefoot? Make absolutely sure you are not going to step on a ritual tool and make yourself bleed, or curse to some gods about the existence of legos in the middle of your ritual

Make some stuff for a cleansing/power bath. I usually assemble ingredients and things day before, then go to bed, and do a quick ritual bath before the actual ritual. Steep a hair rinse or charm a fancy body wash before hand so you dont have to focus on that spell, too.

Do a tarot reading/your preferred divination, before bed the day before you do a ritual. It can be quick or extensive, it doesnt matter. But it can be good to get some guidance before you are gearing up for a spell or ritual, and have some time to think about it before you are minutes away from it.

Prepare food and water, once again especially if you are going outside. Rituals can take a lot out of you depending on what you are doing, and food and drink are very easy and quick ways to help ground yourself if you are shaky or need help coming back to a relaxed state. If you are struggling, boiling pasta or microwaving stuff is the last thing on your mind, or maybe even your ability. So have some fruit snacks or granola bars or cookies or something-- easy to take and easy to eat-- with you. Trust me, this is more important than a lot of people realize. It's a good after-ritual practice and one you should be ready for

Think about your intent and purpose. Set aside some time day-before to do this, maybe 30 min to 1 hr I would say. Maybe make an entry in your BOS if you are the journaling type. This serves 2 functions: one is to charge your intent before the spell. It will give you more oomph and precision in your spell casting, or more prepared behavior if you are speaking to gods. Think about what you want to ask them, what you want them to know, how much respect you should give them, or what they may ask of you. What are you willing to do for them, and what are you not?

The second function is that it gives you time to back out of something. Not all spells are meant to be cast, and especially not if you are in a high emotion before it. Give yourself a day to prepare, an hour to think over, why am I doing this? SHOULD I be doing this even? There is nothing wrong with changing your mind. Doing things impulsively in magic isn't typically beneficial to the caster most of the time. Think through potential consequences, too. How could it back fire? How could it go right but in the wrong way? Is there a better way to get what you want? Can you add a caveat, or a time limit on the spell? Are you using parts of a closed practice and not really thought about it before now?

If you are doing spell work in the out-of-your-house-space-land, even if it is just like, in your appartment parking lot, the park down the street or even your own backyard, make sure someone somewhere knows about it. I know not everyone is out of the broom closet, but even if you just have to tell your friends you are stargazing or something, make sure SOMEONE knows and has a check in time for you. There are creeps and terrible people everywhere, and not to spook anybody, but doing magic can often attract animals or any assortment of beings who want to watch/investigate you. I have been given a heart attack by a baby antelope at dawn before. I have also been given a heart attack by a forest spirit asking wtf I was doing there. I know it doesnt exactly feel witchy to have your cellphone crammed in your waistband, but trust me, better safe than sorry. Be it humans or otherwise, doing magic in the dark in total secret is just not realistic to your safety. Take someone with you and have them wait in the car or around the corner if you can. Once again, make sure someone, somewhere, has a set time to call or come get you in, incase you get kidnapped or fae-napped. Your wellbeing is a much higher priority than any magic spell.

Also familiarize yourself with nearby wildlife. Even if you are in the city, check out what raccoon eyes look like in flashlight, or maybe if your suburb is prone to stray cats or dogs. Check out a rabies registry as well, so you know what kind of risk you are looking at around such animals. Rabid animals are actually more prone to being unafraid of human contact and will readily let a person touch them. Do NOT interact with wild animals. No, they are not a sign or a gift from your god. Most animals are curious about magic in general, but that doesnt make them not wild. Do not interact. If you are in a less populated space, you should also check out what kind of wild life is native to your area and how dangerous they are. Deer will startle themselves into you like getting hit by a BMW and bears and cougars can be active day or night, as well as Bobcats, snakes, or coyotes. Check out your local wildlife center for advice on how to handle what lives in your area

(Last outdoors advice, I promise) also check out what kind of myths and legends existed on the land you are on, ESPECIALLY if you live in north america. Knowing who's land you are on should be important to your practice anyway, and knowing what kind of creatures may be out there may save you some distress later. Indigenous cultures should be respected, and their tales can tell you what's around your area. And I dont care where the hell you live, if you hear whistling in the darkness/forests, it is one of several things coming to get you and none of them are good. Get gone and DONT whistle back. Or at all. No whistling guys. Bad.

For indoor rituals, make sure you wont be disturbed. Much like meditation, rituals are very dependent on focus and intent. Interruptions can mess with your outcome.

More indoor advice, checkout your lighting and ventilation well before you do your ritual. For instance, my altar is in a walk in closet-- there is no way in hell I am burning 4 candles and an incense in that room. I would have to do it in my living room or bedroom where there are windows, or find a way to eliminate the candles. Is the room dark enough to fit your ritual? Is it light enough that you can read your notes? (also make notes/write up a copy of the spell, it helps so much) Make sure you have enough light to see what you are doing properly.

I am a big advocate of "do not over cleanse your life, stop over cleansing" however, if that is something you do a lot of, make sure all your tools and whatnot are cleansed and prepared day before. You can shave a 2hr ritual down to 30 min if you get all of your prep work done day before, which is nice. And it once again gives you time to say "shit I forgot that one thing I need to cleanse" an hour later and still not interrupt your ritual because it is day before.

If you are an of-legal-age type person and doing some drug/alcohol part of your magic, make double sure you have food, water, and a buddy system. You may not need a designated driver if you aren't going out of your house, but you still need a designated sober person to make sure you dont like, astral travel out of your body and get replaced with a pod person, or get hurt trying to cast a circle with a ritual knife while high. Know your limits well before you use them in ritual and, I cannot emphasize this enough, have a friend to keep you under scrutiny incase something goes wrong and you need help.

If you are having the OTHER kind of must-be-of-age type of ritual, be sure your partner is well informed. Maybe have a dress rehearsal so you are both on the same page about mechanics and consent. Speed run through the general timing and motions, and talk about what each of you expect to get out of the ritual. Is it for bonding? Or are you using the energy to try to charge something? Is it for fertility? Are you both good to have ritualized sex (I know that seems like an obvious question, but you would be surprised by how many partners clam up about sexual things to try to not disappoint their partner). If you are a witch and your partner is not, be sure they know what to expect, and that they 100% want to do it even though it's not necessarily their practice and not just to be a people pleaser. If you havent done anything like this before either, tell them that, too. Honestly is 100% required here

And lastly, keep your cool. It's easy to get over excited or over anxious about this kind of thing, but honestly with a little prep time you have a high change of doing awesome. And even if you dont? That's okay too. Everyone makes mistakes, we all learn from those mistakes, and every single experience you acquire will level you up until you are the best at being you. Do what feels right, trust your gut, do some reading, and keep calm and witchy on.

#witchblr #ritual #ritual work #spell #spell work #witch tips #ritual prep #witch advice #chaos witch #eclectic paganism #wicca #diety work #diety ritual #witchcraft #chaos witchcraft #solitary witch #solitary witchcraft

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nari-nim · 4 years

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forever anticipating

“hi i don't know if your requests are open but if they are can you write an scenario in which hyunsuk sets jihoon and y/n on a blind date? fluffy? btw do you think he would kiss on the first date?”

aww anonie this is the cutest request! time for some SOFT JIHOON HOURS! To answer your question, I think Jihoon is highly intuitive and can read body language well so he will use that to inform his decision whether or not to go for the kiss! If his date is down, he will not hesitate. I hope you enjoy the direction I took :) lmk what you think!! 💓

This is how Jihoon secretly looks at you when you aren’t looking during your date. gif credit goes to @khaly-no

Treasure Jihoon x Y/N

warnings: none, this FLUFFY

word count: 1.8k

— the dorms —

Video game night was in full swing and it has never been louder in the dorms. Jeongwoo screeched over the sound of six other members’ simultaneous bickering. Meanwhile, Asahi decided now was the perfect time hit whoever blinked with a couch pillow. Normally, Hyunsuk wouldn’t have tolerated this level of rowdiness under his roof. But he was busy. He sat quietly on the far end of the sofa tapping furiously into his phone, a sly smile plastered across his features.

“Hey, Jihoon—oh my god,” Hyunsuk said, his smile melting as soon as he looked up. The chaos activated his leader (mother) mode. “Jihoon-Jeongwoo get down. Jeongwoo, please. Haruto, wait--Junkyu-Junkyu- ASAHI”

Asahi stopped. The rest followed suit.

The room turned to normal levels of volume, and Hyunsuk was able to try again.

“Jihoon, come here.” Jihoon perked up from his Mashiho impersonation, and got up to join Hyunsuk.

“Bro, you should join us. Junghwan is killing it, you don’t want to miss his true maknae on top moment.” (He’s actually not, the beloved super king cow king baby is getting crushed by Haruto every round). Jihoon slid next to Hyunsuk, glancing at his phone screen. “What are you...”

Hyunsuk flashed him a cheeky smile and hid what he was working on for the past half hour.

“You’re going on a blind date tomorrow.”

“No way, this feels somewhat illegal. Tell me more.”

“Her name is y/n and I met her through a mutual friend. They go to uni together and we met at that hangout I went to last weekend. Park Jun, she is exactly your type. You gotta trust me on this one.”

Jihoon blinked at him, for once without a witty remark. Jihoon squinted at Hyunsuk, and chuckled in disbelief. Reality was hitting him and logic does not like that shit eating grin on Hyunsuk’s face.

“Hyunsuk, you’re setting me up? You, really? This is actually happening? Right before our flight to Japan?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow early morning at the Han River. You’ll have a few hours before we head over to Incheon.”

Jihoon ruffled his hair and sat back into the couch. He sucked in a breath. Hyunsuk frowned, “you don’t want to? Sorry man, I really thought your vibes would’ve matched and-“

“Oh no no, hyung, I’m just...worried since we’re going to promote in Japan for the next two weeks and our schedules are so busy. It might end up hurting us both,” Jihoon confessed. “And it’s been forever since I last been on a date.”

“Nah I think you’re worrying way too much in advance. The policy is chill now and, hey, who can say no to waiting a few weeks for those abs,” Hyunsuk reassured.

“Oh right, I’m going to flash my abs the fifth minute in,” Jihoon said sarcastically. He did make a mental note, though, because if you really are that cute? He’ll need that Plan G.

“Here, I’ll text you the address now. You better not flake and make me look bad.”

“HEY! What are you guys WHISPERING about!” Jeongwoo said, looking at them suspiciously. Simultaneously, the nonactive players of the game whipped their heads to stare at the pair.

“Nothing, the grownups are talking” Jihoon joked, dramatically nodding and shooting thumbs up at Hyunsuk. Jihoon left the resulting hysterics and sound of Hyunsuk cackling behind for the comforts of his room where he checked his buzzing phone. Turns out, Hyunsuk had attached the pictures of you, figuring he would give Jihoon that peace of mind (and a way to find you tomorrow) under the instructions.

Holy shit.

Jihoon eyes widened. You are exactly his type. Jihoon couldn’t stop staring at your smiling features. The soft smile that colored his features never left his face for the rest of the night.

He couldn’t wait.

— Han River —

Wow ok, this is slightly worse than evaluation days, Jihoon decided, nervously kicking a small pebble around on the dusty road.

“Hey, Jihoon?”

Jihoon froze for a millisecond and turned around to face you.

You looked ethereal in the early morning sun. The light reflected off your lovely features, illuminating the kind glow of your smile. Jihoon made another mental note to treat Hyunsuk to dinner once they land in Japan.

“The one and only. Y/n?”

“Yes,” you nodded shyly. “It’s nice to meet you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon loved hearing his name coming from your lips. Which were so pretty and pink and—

Jihoon cleared his throat. “Likewise.” After a small pause, “Is there anything you would like to do in particular while we get to know each other?”

You laughed, the sound music to Jihoon’s ears. He wants to hear that all the time now, he decided.

“I actually really like taking pictures of random beautiful things that pique my interest! Maybe we can just go for a walk and explore what we find beautiful about the Han River?”

“Perfect,” Jihoon smiled widely, which somehow grew when he noticed the blush in your cheeks.

And that’s how you two somehow went from exchanging detailed introductions to sharing hobbies to discussing life goals and values, all while snapping amazing scenery pics. This developed into a made up game of taking the best picture, judged entire on a subjective and nondemocratic point system. The winner gets uncontested glory and a copy of all the photos of the loser’s captured moments.

“HAHA, y/n I just got the spiciest photo of these golden bell flowers over this ledge!”

“What, how??” You whipped around from trying to make some daisies look aesthetic. The competitive side of you was taking over.

“I guess it’s one of the perks of being taller,” Jihoon said, hopping down the said six foot tall ledge he spent the last few minutes scaling. He dusted his pants off carefully and flashed you his eye smile. In a singsong voice, he said, “and one of those perks is winning this game~”

Yeah you were not about to risk a broken arm for that picture. “Okay, fine, but show it to me?”

“Nuh uh.” He flashed you the picture in one second bursts, having the best time teasing you.

Jihoon paused. He got so comfortable with you in the last hour that he just teased you like he does with the other Treasure members. His worries were interrupted at the adorable sight of you giggling. He internally sighed of relief.

“NuH uH,” you mimicked backed at him, reaching for his phone.

Jihoon quickly yanked his phone above his head, dramatically leaned his body so it was out of your reach. Surprised, you tried to change course. But in the spur of the moment, the momentum carried you just a tad too far. You bump slightly into his chest. Jihoon instinctively grabbed at you to prevent you from losing your balance further, his hands falling on your waist. His large hands felt so warm through the fabric, his breath brushing as the top of your forehead. You were so close.

His eyes widened, heat rushing to his cheeks. For a second, your eyes meet. You wonder if he can hear the thundering in your chest.

Jihoon quickly let go and took a step back, slightly bowing at you. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to grab you like that!”

You could tell your face was absolutely flushed at this point, but you made a show of brushing off your outfit and stuck your nose in the air, “as long as you don’t have cooties.”

“Ooh,” Jihoon winced. “I definitely do. Exclusive, premium, limited edition cooties.”

You laughed, thankful he didn’t press you on the obvious blush. Although it’s not like his face was any better.

“Hey, y/n,” Jihoon said, pulling you out of your internal monologue. “This might be about it for the date. My phone has actually been blowing up with reminders to get back.”

Oh, You tried to hide the sadness in your face. The few hours you spent together seemed to fly by so fast, and you definitely longed for more. Within the span of the date, he showed just how incredible he is—unyielding dedication to his dreams, selfless outlooks on life, and a kind, hilarious and loving personality that felt like sunshine on a rainy day.

Jihoon noticed the quiet pause, and softly asked, “May I walk you home?”

You let out an airy laugh. “Not unless you want to walk 45 minutes in one direction and an hour in the other, Park Jihoon. It’s okay, I’ll take the subway!”

“Right, right,” Jihoon chuckled. You guys reached an intersection leading pedestrians away from the river sidewalk. The signs pointed to your destinations in opposite directions, which felt too meta for your taste.

Jihoon turned to face you.

“You know, golden bell flowers means anticipation in flower language.” He looked the most serious he has ever been all morning.

You mustered yourself to look into his eyes.

“That’s suitable, Jihoon, because I anticipate for you to call me as soon as you safely land and are available.”

“Deal.”

Numbers and addresses (for postcards, he claims) were exchanged.

“Jihoon, I had an amazing time today.” You said, suddenly feeling shy again. A part of you wished you could walk him back, but that would attract unwanted attention.

“Me too, y/n. Thanks for waking up so early to spend all this time with me.” Jihoon said, the tone of his voice so soft and genuine.

He shifted a little closer, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your eyes widened.

He leaned in and gently rested his hand against the back of your head. His eyes searched yours, asking.

Oh my god, yes please. You drew even closer in answer, eyes fluttering shut.

Jihoon closed the distance. His lips gently pressed into yours, completing a perfect puzzle. The kiss was was warm, sweet and heartfelt. Your lips gently moved against each other, before you pulled slightly away for air. As your foreheads rested against each together, a warm wave unfurled in your chest.

Just a little more, you thought. Jihoon seemed to agree as you both lean in again, this time the kiss far less hesitant. Your hands rest against his chest while he cups your face with his. Jihoon pulled back, pushing a strand of hair behind your ears. His phone was aggressively ringing, you realize.

“I’ll see you, y/n.”

“I’ll anticipate you, Jihoon.”

He watched your retreating figure for a bit before he headed back to the dorm, giddy with joy.

— your home —

A few days later, a package arrived. It was from Jihoon. Your heart raced.

He never mentioned anything about this in his calls, you excitedly thought.

You slowly pulled out the contents, marveling at each one. A picture of the Han River reflecting the morning light. A dozen of printed photos he somehow took of you that day (you laughing at something you took, looking off into the river, and crouching over vegetation). A polaroid of him in the hotel room, “you better be missing me so damn hard” it captioned. You chuckled, touched by his gift.

You were about to close the envelope until you realized there’s still one item left. You reached in. And you gasped.

A golden bell flower, pressed by hand.

#treasure #jihoon #treasure jihoon #treasure jihoon fluff #requested #treasure jihoon scenarios #treasure fluff #treasure imagines #treasure scenarios #treasure park jihoon #park jihoon fluff #treasure x reader

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anguisette90 · 3 years

Text

Mid Year Freakout Tag!

Tagged by the always wonderful @over-a-rainbow.

1. Best book you have read in 2021 so far?

The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin. Absolutely beautiful and compelling and weird in the best way.

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read In 2021 So Far?

Gonna have to cheat and dip back into late 2020 because most of what I've read this year have been stand-alone or first in a series and of the two sequels I've read, calling either 'best' seems questionable. So, I'm going with Saints Astray by Jacqueline Carey, both because it managed to be super fun and also to make me cry at the same time, and because it was something so completely different than the first book (Santa Olivia) but still felt like an organic continuation of the story.

3.A New Release You Want To Check Out?

The Hidden Palace by Helene Wecker. Kind of cheating with this as well, in that I still haven't read The Golem and the Jinni, but my wife read it a few years back and it's been on my to-read list since due to her rave reviews. I'm looking forward to reading both soon (though 'soon' could mean tomorrow or two years from now at the rate I go.)

4. Most Anticipated Book Release Of The Second Half Of The Year?

I don't know if there's anything I'm particularly looking forward to, though I welcome suggestions of things I should be anticipating! My only pre-order so far for the rest of 2021 is the Lore Olympus book, which I'm eagerly awaiting but, y'know, I've already read it online a couple of dozen times so...

5.Biggest Disapointment?

I hate to say it but the October Daye books, by Seanan McGuire. Not that they're bad just, I think I went into it with my expectations too high. It's got everything I love, but somehow I got three or four books in and just felt astoundingly meh about it.

6. Biggest Surprise?

The Darker Shade of Magic books by V.E. Schwab. It wasn't the series I expected it to be going in, and honestly I expected to be at least two tiers higher on the obsession chart with it than I am, but it did a lot of things that I didn't expect. The plot was mostly predictable and there are a lot of things you see coming from a mile away, but the joy of these books is definitely in the journey and the little things in between. Nothing shakes out exactly how you imagine which is enjoyable. She also does really fun things with her word choice and writing style. "Her words were hollow, and his own fear ricocheted inside them, filling the space." is possibly my favorite sentence.

7. Favorite New Author (Ether New To You Or Debut).

New implies that I don't just read the same five authors over and over. Honestly, my Kindle history is just like "Really? You're reading this again? You know there are hundreds of books in your account right? Fine, I guess here's (*insert any Dresden book, any of the Kushiel books, or the Phantom Tollbooth*)" This ignores David Eddings because when I reread his works I read from my print copies.

8. Favorite New Fictional Crush?

Toss up between Rhy the himbo prince, and Alucard the ludicrously named pirate, both from ADSOM. I mean, honestly that episode of Parks & Rec where they're talking about Game of Thrones and Donna's like "Everybody on that show can get it!"? That, but with the cast of that book series.

Honorable mention to Navani from Stormlight. Turns out once Sanderson lets her have POVs for something other than Dalinar's character development she's amazing and I both want her and want to be her? But this was also a late 2020 discovery so, honorable mention.

9. Newest Favorite Character?

Rereading The Elenium/Tamuli by David Eddings for the first time since I was a wee person and I fully did not appreciate Sparhawk and the sheer big d*ck energy he brings to the table as a child. I mean, my gods, the man is ridiculous.

10. A Book That Made You Cry?

None yet this year. Does @laurabeatrix 's fic beautiful short story inspired by contemporary works count? Legit the only story to make me cry so far this year.

11. A Book That Made You Happy?

Dawnshard by Sanderson. I ended up reading it out of order, because I agreed to read it with the wife and she reads slow, so I read Rhythm of War first and circled back to it when she got caught up (and then re-read half of Rhythm of War over her shoulder, which is what normally happens with new books that we're both fans of.) But it was such a perfect novella and I'm always glad for more Rysn.

12. Most Beautiful Book You Have Bought or Received This Year?

Aesthetically beautiful? Either our Way of Kings leatherbound books (can't remember if they arrived in 2020 or 2021) or that gorgeous Grim Oak edition of Storm Front.

Beautifully written has to go to The City We Became again. I'm actively in love with the way it's written.

13. What Book Do You Need To Read By The End Of The Year?

Clan of the Cave Bear - because it's a friend's "I've read this series fifteen times and I need to be able to geek out about it with other people!" series, and as someone who will not shut up about the Dresden Files, I feel morally obligated to read other peoples' unhealthy obsessions.

The Ruins of Gorlan - because I promised a fledgling nerd (friend's son) that I would read it. As someone who was once a fledgling nerd myself, I can recall being stoked any time one of my mom's super need friends either recommended something to me or took my recommendation so, time to pay it forward.

I'm not tagging anyone because, well, the only people I interact with on Tumblr with any regularity were already tagged in the original post 😂 But if you're seeing this and you're interested, consider yourself tagged.

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chaotic-tired-cat · 3 years

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world walker to date is one of my most favorite fanfics ever. it's so well-written! not too op, with real difficulties and plot, but still light-hearted and funny! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 i hope life smoothens out for you so we can get an update of this awesome story! :D :D :D

Aaaa thanks Anon!! This ask made me super happy - I'm glad you like World Walker and that it hit the right balance between angst and comedic moments (tbh that's one of the things that's really hard to get right). Things are still hectic but as soon as they're not that chapter is getting finished!!!

Since it might be a while, have a post-World Walker scene from the pov of a couple civilians. It was written to try out Cryptid as Izuku's hero name (/^o^)/

(Note: this scene isn't canon to World Walker and was written before I knew how the story would end.)

“Why do you even think this is going to work?” Yua hovers around Mariko’s efforts in the Denny’s parking lot, careful to avoid stepping on the complicated design taking place under Mariko’s second piece of chalk. The first one was sacrificed to ward off a raccoon. They specifically chose to do this after midnight for the ambiance, but Yua is starting to have second thoughts.

It’s very dark, and they’re both fem-presenting teenagers with emitter quirks in a deserted part of town.

This is not a good place to be.

“I got the pattern off a hero,” Mariko assures her. “You know how I was in the gym when Uravity's fight hit school, right?”

Yes, and Yua is trying desperately to forget the worst day of her life, thank you.

“Uravity and Cryptid dug me out, but it was weird, because he drew this symbol on a piece of the roof and it just- stayed. In the air. Even when nothing was supporting it.” Mariko pauses, beaming at the magic circle that’s mostly made of lines and squiggles to complete the aesthetic. One of the symbols doesn't look right. It slides out of focus, and Yua carefully steps back, because hell no.

“How is that supposed to help us summon a ghost-”

“Finished! Start filming, hurry, hurry, hurry!” Mariko drops her piece of chalk as Yua scrambles to swipe open her camera. Before Yua can stop her, Mariko has drawn a pocket knife, cut the pad of her thumb, and is smearing blood on the unsanitary parking lot ground.

Delightful.

Her hand is going to get so infected.

That’s right about when the air above the circle tears itself apart.

Mariko shrieks. Yua almost runs, then remembers herself and makes sure her phone is pointed at the sliver of starlight shining out of thin air. She knows her horror film tropes. Whatever they released into the world is taking them first, but she can at least get a video account to warn people of what they did.

Eaten by a demon or some shit. That’s a bomb-ass obituary.

Pro Hero Cryptid crashes out of the portal, one hand protectively wrapped around a bowl half-full of salad. His Uravity sweatshirt mostly obscures Froppy sweatpants, but Yua is more alarmed by the fact that Cryptid looks surprisingly human. No needle-sharp teeth, no starlit eyes. Spinach flutters to the ground around the hero in a gentle shower of greenery that nestles in his curly hair as if adding to the foliage. He stares blankly at them, then at the scribbles under his feet, before pointing a truly pissed-off look at the sky.

“Are you serious?” Cryptid yells at the city skyline. A spinach leaf falls off his shoulder. “Right in front of my salad?”

“Holy shit,” Yua whispers, and discovers that she can, in fact, be more embarrassed than the time their teacher made the whole class sing ‘Happy Birthday’ while she stood in silent mortification on a chair. “We summoned him.”

Mariko claps both hands over her mouth to keep in her laughter, eyes wide. “We really did.”

This seems to draw the hero’s attention back to them.

“You two okay? Yes? Nobody’s hurt? Oh, thank goodness.” Cryptid stabs a fork into his vegetables, shoves it into his mouth, and makes grabby hands for the chalk. Mariko passes it over with a potent mix of awe and glee.

“I am so sorry,” Yua breathes.

Mariko sniffs. “I’m not.”

“And I’m glad to be summoned,” Cryptid finishes with a sunshine-smile. He’s very… human. The wrinkled eyebrows he directs at Mariko’s chalk art do not resemble the otherworldly creature that showed up during All Might’s last battle. “Better for me to be dropped here than for y’all to get… hm. Yeah, this is good.”

Hm?

Hm??

What does ‘hm’ mean?

Yua reaches over and frantically swats at Mariko’s sweatshirt in an attempt at telepathically communicating her many, many feelings concerning accidentally summoning a hero into this godsforsaken Denny’s parking lot.

“How did you find a stasis glyph?” Cryptid mumbles around his fork.

“Copied it from you. My quirk lets me mimic actions if I see them without blinking.” Mariko peers around his shoulder at the lines taking form.

“That’s such a cool quirk,” Cryptid tells her instantly. “Do you need a clear line of sight? Is it only capable of copying real-life actions or can you use recordings? Oh, are you limited to your own flexibility and strength, or is this a mirror skill instead of a mimic? You could use that for anything, it’s a very adaptable power.”

Yua cautiously edges closer to give the camera a better angle at the ground while Mariko preens. “What are you even doing?”

“Editing. Here, look- right there, you tied it down with intent contrary to the meaning.” Cryptid shuffles over so she can see and points out a circled section. He smudges out the blurry patch.

Mariko watches eagerly as the hero replaces it with a mishmash of lines that Yua can actually make sense of. “I don’t understand any of what you just said, but hell fuckin’ yeah, you funky lil’ cryptid.”

“Oh, sorry. I get called whenever the void gets angry, and this is the language it speaks,” Cryptid says, like this makes sense. He taps the lines eagerly. “Put a stasis glyph on the ground and continents will stop shifting, which is a whole lot of bad news."

"Uh huh," Mariko says. Yua swats at her again, because there's no way she understands and going along with this for entertainment value alone is going to get them into some sort of horror movie B-Plot.

Cryptid just looks amused. "Next time you need to experiment, use a paper base instead of the concrete. It’s safer. And- is that blood?”

“Maybe,” Mariko says, partially as a dare for him to say anything because she isn’t really the type to listen to anyone, regardless of if they’re a hero. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Huh. Yeah, you got me there.” Cryptid puts his bowl of salad on the ground and fishes around in his Uravity sweatshirt for a tiny med kit.

“Where’d we go wrong,” Mariko asks, like they are ever going to try this again. Yua hisses for her to stop and is ignored with the extreme confidence of someone determined to keep making the same continuous mistake until success is summoned through stubborn willpower alone.

“You didn’t need to hurt yourself.” Cryptid bandages her hand, slips away the medkit, and says gravely, “Blood never brings anything good.”

“Holy shit,” Yua repeats as Cryptid takes a bite of salad and goes right back to his art project like this happens every other Tuesday. Mariko glares at her, but honestly, this is the wildest thing.

The hero keeps saying things.

“Not to lecture either of you, but it’s a bad idea to mess around with unborn languages without supervision.” Cryptid hands back the chalk and takes another bite of his salad. “This stuff can blow up in your face. So, can I escort you guys anywhere? Because it’s a little dark and this isn’t exactly the safest part of town.”

That’s about when Yua realizes something under the spinach is glowing.

#Anon #Tired cat asks #World Walker #Fic snippet

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mythrilhusk · 3 years

Text

Our World - Chapter One

Technoblade-centric; obligatory Greek Pantheon/The Office AU, No shipping, Not RPF

2.4k words, slightly funny (maybe?), AO3 Link,

Features ND/Schizophrenic!Technoblade - (Written by myself, an actually schizophrenic/neurodivergent person... Neurotypicals/Non-psychotics should not attempt this.)

CW: Intrusive thoughts/visions/urges, auditory hallucinations

Elysium's smallest company branch rests unobtrusively in the town Oneiros, buried in some backwoods county. Technoblade reads through the list of employees once more as his taxi weaves through a mountain pass. His equipment sits on the seat beside him, while the rest of his luggage bounces in the trunk.

Elysium's CFO, some guy named Eret, hired Techno on the spot when he came to the interview. Seemed kinda desperate, but eh, so was Technoblade.

H's not entirely sure why they would only hire one guy to do this job. Eh, work is work, and they sure pay well enough. They're providing an apartment, too. An actual roof over his head will be nice, for however long Techno can keep the job. He bets a week, tops.

The narrow road crests over the top of the mountain, revealing the town beneath sprawling in the valley. The Elysium office building juts out of the south side of the town, an ugly block of concrete and glass. Technoblade wrinkles his nose in disdain, silently agreeing with chat as they mock the displeasing aesthetics.

When his taxi pulls up into the parking lot, Technoblade piles his luggage and equipment on the sidewalk before paying the driver. He adds a tip, too, though he can barely afford even that much. The driver's pale cheeks stretch in a nervous smile as he clutches the money; he's too afraid to protest the miniscule tip. Techno doesn't make an effort to smile back, too busy ignoring visions featuring the bloody crunch of the man's neck between his thirsty teeth.

The taxi peels away, leaving Technoblade alone in the chilly mountain air. With ringing ears and a heavy huff, Techno gathers his stuff and heads into the building.

The receptionist plays on his phone, ignoring Technoblade even when he raps his knuckles atop the boy's shaggy brown hair. "Tubbo," He grunts, recalling the appearance from the employee list.

Tubbo starts, staring up at Techno with wary intensity, like a tiger cub encountering a wild boar for the first time. Techno smiles wryly at the boy, who must still be younger than eighteen. Chat clamors for blood, urging him with the weight of his knife, but Technoblade doesn't entertain them.

"Technoblade." Tubbo regains his composure and holds out a hand. "I'm so glad you're finally here, big man, we've been waiting."

"Why the rush?" Technoblade snorts, ignoring the proffered handshake. Physical contact irritates him.

Tubbo drops his hand. "We just really like documentaries about ourselves, yeah?"

"K." It's not his place to question a gig, although chat goes wild with suspicion. "Where am I staying?"

"Oh, right, you'll be staying with Philza. Heh, try not to piss him off. Or do, it'll be funny." Tubbo waves to the rest of the wide room. "Phil! Your roommate's here!"

"Fuck off, mate, I told you bastards, I don't want a fucking roommate." Techno recognizes the man who speaks as the dude in charge of customer relations: Philza. His golden hair glints with hints of fire, setting off his blue eyes, as merciless as the stars.

Chat froths, raging for blood, blood, blood, but Techno mentally bats them away. "K, welp, I was promised boardin' with this gig. I don't really care where; just get me a place to stay." Technoblade shrugs, baring his teeth in a smile that's just south of friendly.

Philza smiles too, showing off his fangs. Tubbo holds up his hands, saying, "Woah, woah, here. Phil, it's your turn. It's not gonna last long, anyway."

"Heh? Turn?" Technoblade chuffs, even as the cacophony that is chat hisses, technodead, technodead, lmao, RIP- Shut up, chat, we are not dead yet.

Philza's grin widens maliciously. "Oh, did Eret not tell you?"

"That dude told me the bare minimum, man, I dunno, I dunno what you expected."

"You're not the first film crew he's hired," Tubbo says with a faux apologetic shrug. Before Technoblade can protest the use of crew to describe one man, Tubbo continues with the barest hint of a smirk. "But the other ones died, just like you will."

Technodead, technodead, EEEEEE, RIP, RIP, F, EEE, lmaooo, F, rainbowchat- "Get outta here," Techno drawls, narrowing his eyes. Not for the first time, he wishes chat had a physical embodiment he could punt. "Technoblade never dies."

"We'll see," Philza muses, his eyes twinkling with the apathetic amusement of an ancient god toying with mortals. Hazing, that's all this is. Phil hands Technoblade a business card. "Don't be late."

Techno scans the card, appreciating the flaming torch insignia etched into the bronze-inked paper. Ares, god of war... Chat hisses the allusion, seeming in awe of this man who has taken a god's symbol. Techno flips it over to find the address, and then raises an eyebrow at Phil. "What time?"

Philza picks up a stack of papers from the massive copy-printer and strides back to his desk. "Before evenfall."

Welp, that's that interaction over with. Technoblade notes how all the other office workers are studiously ignoring him. He turns to Tubbo. "Where's the boss?"

Tubbo puffs out his cheeks and crosses his arms, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Are you, are you going to complain to our manager, mister?"

"Yeah," Technoblade plays along. "I'm giving you a three star review."

"Oh, that's not bad."

"Out of ten."

Tubbo's visage darkens, and Techno gets an uneasy feeling like a hurricane is about to hit. The feeling passes, though, as Tubbo pouts. "I deserve more than that, man! Give me six stars, at least!"

"Tell ya what, if you show me where the regional manager's office is, I'll raise my review to seven stars."

"Done!" Tubbo cries, and points to an inconspicuous pair of doors on the other end of the room. "One leads to Manager Puffy, the other leads to Manager Schlatt. Choose wisely, good sir."

Techno hums approvingly, then draws out his pad of stickers from his coat pocket. Tubbo's eyes widen and he gasps, bouncing excitedly as Techno sticks a sparkly gold star to his forehead. "Good work, nerd."

Tubbo just stammers, plopping back into his chair with a blissful expression. Heh. Stickers work every time. Chat begs for stickers of their own, beg to be called nerds, beg for even a little taste of blood, but they don't deserve any rewards after being so bad all day.

Techno strides over to the managers' office doors. Each has a whiteboard on the front, with various scribbles over them. One has a fluffy sheep, and says in swirly script, //The captain is IN//. The other has various dicks doodled on it, and the only word written is, //Candice//. Chat breaks down in immature giggles. Technoblade opts for the former.

He knocks politely. A woman's voice replies, "Enter."

Opening the door, Technoblade scans the room. There's a full bookshelf covering one wall, and a low bureau across the opposite. A bay window sheds light across the manager's desk, tinted by the grey-green curtains.

A woman rises from her chair, her expression hidden by the sunlight behind her. Her waves of hair-- half brown and half silver-- sparkle with the dewdrop diamonds haphazardly woven in.

"District Manager Puffy?" Technoblade bobs his head to her.

"Call me Captain Puffy," Puffy replies, and her teeth glint in a wild smile as she tosses her head. "You're the new film crew Eret hired?"

"Uhh, apparently." Technoblade appreciates that she doesn't hold out her hand to greet him. "He never specified what kind of film he wanted, though, so-"

"Don't worry about that," Puffy tuts, "I'll give you instructions when you're settled in."

"K." Technoblade can respect this kind of person. Chat has been subdued and pouting for the past few minutes by his refusal to give them any sort of attention. He takes mercy on them and stares at the model ships on the bureau, letting them coo over the complexity and aesthetic.

"Uh, Mister Blade?" Puffy's voice intrudes on his appreciation of the ships.

"Just Techno is fine." Techno refuses to look away from the ships, since they're keeping chat happy for the moment.

"You'll be assigned a desk tomorrow, and you'll be given tasks around the office to, to acclimate and get to know your coworkers. Later, you can start filming random candid moments. We want a sort of documentary detailing our office lifestyle." Puffy hands a paper flyer to Techno.

Glancing through it, Techno frowns. "What exactly does Elysium sell?"

"We need a better PR team, which is why we've hired you. Elysium strives for the betterment of lives and the strengthening of minds." Puffy completely fails to answer the question. Chat calls her a sussy baahka, and Techno shoots a pointed glare at the bookshelves. He's definitely not giving chat any stickers tonight.

Puffy seems ready to dismiss him, so Techno bobs his head once more to her and opens the door. A strange noise, like the crashing of waves against a rocky shore, resonates through the air, halting him. Her eyes snap wide, glittering with something cold and unforgiving, yet somehow comforting and protective. "Pray to your god for mercy and it shall be given."

Technoblade chuckles, smothering the fire lit behind his eyes. "I'm kinda an atheist, Brizo; if there are any gods out there, they'll be begging me for mercy." He realizes too late that his extensive knowledge of the ancient Greek religion has escaped his tongue. Chat screams with excitement as they put together the allusions to the referenced spirit, Brizo, patron of sailors and prophecy. What a bunch of nerds.

Captain Puffy stares at him, her smile twinkling: sun rays piercing through storm clouds. "Of course, Hades."

Technoblade smiles back at the retort-- he's always been partial to the god of wealth-- and he bobs his head in deference to her once more. Any fellow partaker of old stories easily gets put in his good book. Puffy bows back, and Technoblade takes that as his cue to leave. He closes the door behind him.

Spotting the break room, Techno makes his way towards it, weaving through the desks. He pulls out his last, wrinkly dollar and slips it into the vending machine, then selects one of the bags of cookies. Sitting down with it, he inspects the coworker who's followed him in. "Tommy, right?"

The youth-- the sole employee in HR-- scowls, his ocean-blue eyes narrowing with scorn. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Technoblade??"

"Heh?" The teen's aggressive tone sets him on edge: hands itching and teeth aching and eyes burning for blood, blood, blood- no. No more of that. "Tommy, I just, I just got here? What are you upset at me for?"

"I'm just askin', Techno. Who do you think you are?" Tommy juts his chin out challengingly. "There can only be one boss man here."

"You wanna be the boss?" Technoblade rips open the bag of cookies.

"Well, obviously."

"Best me in single combat and we'll see." Technoblade is only jesting, of course. Even if the kid agreed to the fight, it would be unfair.

"Yes! Meet me in the parking lot in thirty minutes, idiot, and I'll fuckin' wipe the pavement with your ugly face!!" Tommy whoops and skips out of the break room before Techno can explain he was only joking.

Great. He's going to be fired for challenging a coworker to a fight, now. This will officially become the shortest job he's ever held, beating his last record by three hours. Technoblade munches his cookies and refuses to listen to chat as they bully him for making such a mess of his last chance.

When he's finished his cookies, Technoblade goes down to the parking lot, figuring that if he's going to be fired, he'd better do it in style.

Tommy waits for him, the breeze whipping through his blond hair. "No weapons, no magic, just me an' you, Technoblade."

"K." Technoblade shrugs, not seeing any point to telling the teen that magic doesn't actually exist. It was probably a sort of ironic joke, anyway.

Tubbo stands on the sidewalk, cheering for Tommy. Another teen leans on the wall behind Tubbo, seeming paler than should really be healthy, with a mop of black hair covering their ears.

"En garde!" Tommy cries and leaps to punch Techno.

Swaying to avoid the blow, Techno jabs Tommy in the gut with his knuckles. The youth staggers back, face distorted in pain. Technoblade remains relaxed, raising his hands. "Feel free to back out any time."

"Fuck you!" Tommy roars and charges, fists flailing. The picture of waves recklessly dashing themselves against an implacable cliff comes to mind.

Technoblade deflects the first fist and takes the wrist of the followup, twisting his arm behind his back. Tommy shrieks in rage and attempts to rip his arm away. Techno releases him and steps forward. "Sorry, but you ain't winnin' this."

"I will fucking end you!" Tommy once more flies into the fray.

Technoblade decides to go slightly harder on him. He sends Tommy stumbling with a single smack to his shoulder. When Tommy tries to flail fists at him again, Techno trips the boy. Tommy's back slams into the pavement, air whoofing out of his lungs.

"Y-you fuckin'-" Tommy wheezes for air. "I will not lose to you-"

"Looks like it's too late for that," Technoblade chuffs, watching the boy as he struggles to his feet.

Tommy sneers at him. "I, I'm feeling fuckin' merciful today. I won't kill you this time."

"I suppose I can return the favor." Technoblade smirks. He turns his back on Tommy to rub in how little of a threat the teen is. Not that Tommy will understand the gesture, but it boosts Techno's ego and makes chat jeer.

Tubbo and the other youth, a sales rep by the name of Ranboo, stride over. "That was sick!" Ranboo cries, eyes aflame with hero-worship as he stares at Technoblade.

Tubbo smiles implacably as he pulls Tommy to his feet. "Win next time, big guy. I lost five dollars to Ranboo on that."

"Fuck you, Ranboo," Tommy snarls, clinging to Tubbo's arm even as he's standing. "Bet on me, next time!"

"But you lost! I think that's pretty funny." Ranboo glances back up at the windows of the office. Several pairs of eyes seem to be peering down. Great. An audience to Technoblade's last few moments of employment.

Tommy grumbles as he storms to the doors, "I'll fucking beat you next time, Techno, see if I don't!"

The phrasing seems odd, in that it implies Technoblade isn't about to be fired for beating up his teenage coworker.

#long post #technoblade #dream smp #ao3 link #dream smp au #not rpf #2.4k words #fanfiction

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mss4msu · 4 years

Text

Call Me Doctor. (Chapter 21)

Summary: Fresh out of graduate school, you had somehow landed a spot in the faculty of a prestigious university. The small anthropology department has too many faculty and too few offices; sharing an office does not go as you expected.

Pairing: Professor!Steve x Professor!Reader

Words: 1540

Warnings: Emotions, language

A/N: Ok, this took forever to be updated and then some. My sincerest apologies for not getting this out last Friday. But it’s here now! I make a lot of false promises to you all, but I really am going to try to finish this bad boy up sooner rather than later. Thank you to everyone who is still reading and asking for updates.

TAGS: If you would like to be tagged in future installments or asked to be tagged and I missed it, please send these requests as an ask, otherwise I miss them or forget. I’m sorry to anyone I’ve done that to.

Catch Up on the Story Here

“(Y/N)!” you heard James yelling over the pouring of the rain, “(Y/N) come inside!”

You ignored him; you couldn’t do anything but stand there and cry, the rain soaking you to the bone.

A door slammed and you heard him yell “Fuck it,” as large steps caused water to splosh and you knew James was running towards you.

“(Y/N), come on, being out here isn’t going to help anything.”

“J-j-j-james,” your lip quivered, “He…he just left....”

“Please, will you come back inside? I’ll go over to his place later and check on him.”

“No.”

“(Y/N), you standing out here isn’t doing anything to fix the situation,” he grabbed your hand and tried to pull you back towards the building, but you yanked it from his grip.

You stiffened your upper lip, “No. Going back in there won’t do anything but make it worse,” tears were still burning their way out of your eyes, but they were tinged with anger now, not sadness, “He doesn’t get to do this. Not again. Not now.”

James took a deep breath and you knew that he knew he wouldn’t win this one, “Do you have your stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“Fuck, that shit doesn’t matter. Come on,” he grabbed your hand again, but this time led you towards where he had parked his motorcycle. He unlocked the seat storage and pulled out a spare helmet, then paused, “Shit, I need to go back in for my helmet.”

“James, I don’t give a fuck about safety right now. Can we please just go?” you pleaded with him.

“No. I’ll go with you, but we’re doing it the right way.”

“Fuck the right way!” you said, shoving the helmet back into his hands and taking off running.

“(Y/N)!” James shouted behind you.

You heard him run, but he didn’t catch up to you. You didn’t know where he went and you didn’t care. There was only one person on your mind and you were going to run to find him. You’d never been to Steve’s, but he had told you his address once and you’d stalked it on Google Maps enough to know exactly how to get there. You had to take off your shoes after two blocks; they worked well for a museum opening, but not for running through a downpour. Your breath heaved as you tried to orient yourself in the darkness.

“Glenwood, Maple, Park, one more block North and then four East,” you muttered to yourself, attempting a light jog again, but feeling a growing stitch in your side.

You finally got to his apartment building and buzzed the front gate for him. You waited, but got no answer. You buzzed again; still nothing.

“STEVE!” you began to yell, “STEVE!”

No one yelled back.

You heard the roar of a motorcycle and spun around so quickly you lost your balance and fell into the large puddle forming outside the gate. The engine turned off and you were quickly helped up by a man in a helmet.

“Steve?” you asked hesitantly.

“You couldn’t have waited 5 minutes?” James’s voice was muffled under the visor, which he flipped up quickly.

“James, he won’t answer,” you stifled another fit of sobbing.

“Another reason you should have waited,” he said with a roll of his eyes, procuring a set of keys from his pocket.

He quickly keyed into the front gate and ran into the complex, then into the building where Steve lived; you followed right behind him. You both ran up the stairs to Steve’s door. James knocked loudly, but to no answer. He knocked again. Still nothing.

“Steve, please be decent if you’re in,” James yelled before keying into the apartment.

It was dark inside. You frantically ran around, flipping on light switches and searching for Steve, bumping into and stumbling over furniture as you searched for him.

“Steve?” you called out hopelessly as you turned on the lights to the last room; the bedroom, “Steve?” you asked more quietly, walking slowly into the room.

He wasn’t there. You looked around and found, on his nightstand, a copy of the photo of you both that James had snapped in the coffeeshop. You sunk to the floor, fresh tears prickling at your eyes. You stared at the photo, at that happy time before Sharon had fucked everything up again.

“JAMES!” you yelled out suddenly.

“WHAT??” he burst into the room, actual panic on his face now.

“James, I know where he is,” you turned the photo around.

“The coffee shop?” he asked hesitantly.

“No. He wouldn’t go there now, the Loki thing happened there,” you were shaking your head as you thought it through what you knew would have been Steve’s logic, “He’s somewhere else, somewhere happy.”

“Somewhere happy….” you could see the understanding dawning over him, “Are they even open now?”

“How should I know? I just know that that’s where he is.”

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, gesturing for you to lead the way back outside, “But how about you actually wait for me this time?”

“You’re really joking, in a time like this?”

“Hey, I didn’t judge your coping mechanism of running into a stormy night alone, you don’t get to judge mine of making ill-timed jokes.”

“Shit, fine, let’s just go?” you asked with exasperation, to which he nodded in reply.

When you got outside, you both sprinted to the motorcycle. James handed you a helmet and put on his own. You got on the motorcycle and clung on for dear life as James navigated the way to that small cafe where you and Steve had had your first date. As James pulled up to the curb, you saw that a light was on in the back, but it was otherwise deserted. The yellow walls that looked so cheerful during that brunch now had a gloomy, somber affect on you. You stumbled off the bike when James parked and ran up to the door. You tried the handle, but found it locked. You started to desperately knock on the door, hoping against hope that he was inside.

“STEVE!” James began to yell behind you as you continued to knock.

You saw movement inside, and a man in an apron came up to the door.

“We’re closed!” he yelled out at you.

“Stan, come on, it’s me, James!” James yelled.

“I don’t know a James,” Stan replied.

“Stan, don’t fuck with us right now, is Steve here?” James yelled again.

“I don’t know a Steve,” Stan replied.

“Stan, I swear to God, if you don’t open this door right now I’ll stop eating here!” anger was creeping into James’s voice.

Another figure loomed out of the darkness and came up behind Stan.

“STEVE!” you cried out.

“It’s alright Stan, thanks,” Steve said, patting the cook on the shoulder.

Stan unlocked the door and opened it for you and James to enter, “Don’t fuck up my floors,” he said before returning to the kitchen.

You started to run up to Steve, but James held you back; James went up to him instead and gave him a swift slap on the cheek.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing to storm out of a party like that into a fucking thunderstorm and then disappear?” James demanded.

“Ouch,” was all Steve mustered as he rubbed his cheek.

“I’m so glad you’re ok!” you pushed past James and wrapped yourself around Steve.

“It’s very kind of you to both have been concerned, but I don’t know why I wouldn’t be fine.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” your eyes widened in anger as you unhooked your arms from around him and took a step back, “You just fucking left and you weren’t home! And this is not the first time you’ve gone and pulled some shit like this because of that bitch! You do not get to just disappear and cut me out of your life as a coping mechanism!”

“Oy, keep it down out there! I’m not trying to have the cops join this party,” Stan yelled out from the kitchen.

“Look, I know in the past I have not handled things well, but I’m ok this time. I just needed to get out of that toxic environment, so I called Stan and he said I could come here to cool down. I wasn’t trying to disappear. I’m sorry. I thought it would be better to cool off on my own than to start some shit with either of you. I didn’t know I would cause so much worry.”

“Steve, that’s the first time we’ve seen her in the flesh in...years….Why are you so calm?” James asked, a tinge of fear in his voice.

Steve took a deep breath, “If you must know, I’m fine, because I have a plan.”

“A plan?” there was actual worry in James’s voice now.

“Yes, a plan to serve Sharon and Loki their just desserts,” Steve said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Order up!” Stan yelled from the kitchen, placing a piping hot plate of french toast in the window.

“Speaking of just desserts, there’s mine,” Steve let out a low chuckle as he walked to the window to get his food.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Call Me Doctor. Tag List:

@ashislost @wantingtobekorra @zlixlle @crazy--me @grey-ravens @queenkitten95 @chook007 @tequila1984 @yallneedtrek @ssweet-empowerment @guera31 @justmesadgirl @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @rainbowkisses31 @writing-for-a-chance @sp2900 @notkikibear @itzmegaaaaaaan @partiallyinthecloset @straybattie @angryteapot @fandom-addict-aesthetics @hazellnut94 @abschaffer2 @hadesgirl1015 @biskwitmamaw @justkending @marvelous-capsicle @uhh-katie-griffiths @evanstush @chuckennuggets1213 @everything-is-awesomesauce @tenaciousperfectionunknown @marvels-gurl

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tag List:

@patzammit @xjaneeeen

Permanent Tag List:

@sophiealiice @mrsdeanwinchester19 @thisismysecrethappyplace @ailynalonso15 @221bshrlocked @hazellnut94 @libbymouse @nerdypinupcrystal @hufflepuffchloe @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @dibsonamericasass @kind-sober-fullydressed @kakakatey @sarcasmoverlordxo @vikki-rogue @thefridgeismybestie

#call me doctor #marvel #fanfic #au #anthropology #egyptology #angst #steve rogers x reader #professor!steve x reader #professor steve #professor au #im sorry this took 5 months

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cherryyharryy · 5 years

Text

Burning Words

Chapter Five: Regrets

WC: 7.9k

Previous Chapter

Songs for this chapter

Extra piece in Harry’s POV (I suggest reading this first)

I have to say my intuition is pretty decent. The only time it’s failed me, is when I’ve chosen to ignore it. There’s a fine line though, between me wanting to listen to myself, and the nagging feeling in my gut. I’m an easy person to dismiss.

So when I spent all of last week brushing off the insistent aura of regret from my shoulders, I didn’t expect it to manifest itself in such a tame manner. My life is the embodiment of ‘when it rains, it pours,’ and I’m constantly trying to find a place to feel good within my own existence.

And right now, I really regret being such a pushover. If there’s one moment I could do over again, it would be earlier today when I turned down the overtime my boss offered. Because Jessie is sick. She isn’t, but she says she is; I’ve known her for too long now. We’ve survived a lot together:

That’s three drunken nights, five catcallers, one early morning jog right after the New Year when we said we’d get healthy. Two fake Instagram accounts to spot a cheater, six tampons thrown over bathroom stalls, eight missed calls—then a hurried drive down Park Street to find yours truly in the midst of a panic attack. And now, nine minutes for me to figure out that she’s not ill. That’s like, 75 in women years. No wonder we’re so tired all the time.

I’d put money on a phone call from Anthony. She says she’s never had phone sex, but she does so with a smile, and I’m not an idiot. She’s not ashamed; I don’t think Jessie could ever feel embarrassed with the confidence she has. This only twists the ropes surrounding my organs, pulling tighter and tighter until…

I hope to have secrets with someone one day, and then I can tell Jessie a sweet lie about how I’ve never gone skinny dipping, or Russian kissed, and she’d be content with my fib and cherry smile, because she’s my best friend.

And because I’m her best friend, I’m zipping up the back of my black dress with a hanger, praying it doesn’t pop when I exhale.

“I promise, I’ll owe you,” Jessie whines.

“No you don’t. Just tell me I don’t look terrible.”

“You’re gorgeous as always, babe.”

She’s curled up in her bed, such an actress, with a heating blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a phony stuffed nose that makes her words gel together in a tight knot. I thank her anyway.

“Don’t forget the book.”

“I know, I know.” I push off the threshold of her room to gather my things: a winter coat that looks somewhat classy, my purse, and Beowulf. I button up to my neck and yell my goodbye as I cross the apartment.

We have a small mirror that hangs against a brick wall when you first enter our home. I’ve watched Jessie nudge at her lashes and scrape tiny bits of strawberry lipstick off her teeth before we leave, dozens of times. I usually pass by her while she’s doing her last touch-ups, but now I’m alone, and I have to make the quick decision to look or not. I hope Jessie’s right, that I don’t look terrible, because I close my eyes until I’m locking the door.

***

The theater is frigid, and nearly empty when I arrive. I guess the majority of Jessie’s class isn’t as desperate to watch a reenactment of a book for extra points as she is. Tickets are five dollars, and the water I bought is warm. I am overdressed, and take out my diamond earrings after a girl in sweatpants sits at the end of my row.

At intermission I debate whether or not I should leave. I can hide in my room all night and finish Jessie’s assignment, in my pajamas, with a glass of gas station wine in hand. But I guess Jessie is in love, so instead, I wobble up to the concession in her borrowed heels to buy more junk food that can promise me a breakout by morning.

“Y/n?”

Like an eruption; his voice triggers more physiological responses in my body than a lab rat. My senses have never crossed borders with each other, and yet I stand here, hunger clawing its way up my ribs, past my larynx, banging on the back of my eyes so I’ll open them.

“Hey.” My voice is filled with saliva, and I pray he doesn’t notice.

“Are you here for the extra credit, or to watch a bunch of middle aged call-backs try their hand at acting?”

My laugh is airy and sore. “Uh, Jessie. It’s her class. She’s sick, so I’m saving her.”

“Ah,” he nods. “I’m a life jacket too, tonight. Elliot’s visiting his cousin or something.”

The lights flicker above us, and he blushes like a cherry. “I uh, I guess we’d better head back.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you, would you like to sit together?” He holds up his copy of the book. “Compare notes?”

I nod. I respond, but I’m not exactly sure what comes out of my mouth. All I know is that he has me lead the way, and deciding where to sit becomes an insurmountable task, as if my seating choice is the determinate in how he will see me in the forthcoming days, weeks. Does he like to sit in the front? The back? Close to the aisle? Where had he been this whole time? Had he noticed me when I had my mouth stuffed with gummy bears?

“If you don’t mind,” he answers the questions in my head, “I don’t care for sitting close to the front.”

“The middle then? I think I read that, two-thirds back was the best seating or something.”

“Perfect.”

We settle into our seats, the theater now nearly vacant other than the two of us, and a few people tucked away in the back.

It’s a bizarre group of words to use—the two of us—in reference to Harry and I. Technically, it’s sound. There are two in a pairing. I think it’s the us that plays my heartstrings like a violin. The vibrating in my chest escalates, echoing off the hollow of my bones, wrapping around the fibers of my muscles, weakening my nervous system like a dying light bulb.

He flips through my copy of the book where I haven’t made as many notes as I should have, nodding along to my scribbles which outline the differences between the original story and this live adaptation. “We’ve got a lot of the same.” He’s smiling big when he hands my book back. “Guess we’re doing something right then.”

I feel his energy for the rest of the play. Every move he makes is somehow worthy of interest. The grip he holds on his knee, the tilt of his head, roll of his lips, bounce of his foot. He clears his throat at one point, and I turn back towards the actors as if they are the disturbance. Each time he flips through the book to scribble a note, the pages brush against his thumb, sometimes catching on his ring. When he pricks his skin on the edge of a page, he drives it straight into his mouth. I have to remind my heart to keep beating.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear me? Do you need a ride home?”

When had we walked outside? When did the sun disappear? When did his hair become such a mess?

“Um, no. That’s alright. Thank you though.”

“How did you get here?” His lenses are a pink champagne color, and I hope the filter makes me aesthetically appealing, as I never have been before.

“The bus.”

“The b—you’re going to take this bus? But it’s late?”

I study his face, his eyes through the tinted glass, the lines across his forehead with his brows pushing them up towards his hairline. My intelligence is working overtime.

“I’ve taken the bus at night before. I’ll be fine.” I shrug and he frowns.

“But, I—if I give you my number, will you text me when you get home? Just, I mean, I just need to know you make it back. It’s nearly eleven. And it’s the bus.”

I stand there too long, contemplating the actions he wishes to pursue. His number, in my phone. He says my name.

“Uh, yeah, I can do that I guess.”

Vertigo and an imposture buzz seize my nerves. My hands shake; I always spend so much time waiting for things to end, so I can just live in the memory. Things are easier that way.

And I’m more vulnerable under moonlight, so I hand him my phone.

“You won’t forget?”

“No. no. I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” He passes my phone back, clearing his throat. “Um, I enjoyed this. Tonight I mean. Was pretty pissed at Elliot when he asked me to go for him, but...guess things worked out okay after all.”

“Yeah, not bad.”

“You um, you look...you look very pretty.”

“Oh,” I’m caught off guard, and have to take a second to scrape the word liar off my tongue. “Thanks. Thank you. You, so do you.”

He snickers, but it’s lighthearted, like a feather was tickling his chin. “Thank you, love.”

“Yeah…”

“So um, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“O—okay.”

His lashes flutter against his glasses, and his tongue darts out to swipe over his lips. “Uh, I—do you—are you sure you don’t need a ride home?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he sighs like he’s relieved, but there’s pent up nervous energy leaking out, that contradicts the lax drop of his shoulders and the fidgety hand scratching the back of his neck. “Well I’ll see you later then?”

“Okay.”

His lips are twitching when we say goodbye. He goes one way and I the other. He goes to his car, and I go towards the bus stop. My phone weighs heavy in my bag. How did I end up looking forward to admiring a sequence of numbers? I run through my options of what exactly I will text when I get home. What punctuation I will use, if I am warranted in picking an emoji, what he might respond with.

The bus driver gives me a funny look when the doors close behind me. I can’t find anything inside me to care enough though, as I normally would, and find a seat in the back. I’d give me a funny look too, if I was smiling so big at nothing in particular.

***

I almost forget to lock our door when I hurry into the apartment. I’m out of my coat and shoes by the time I reach my room, flopping down on my bed with my phone in hand.

Seeing Harry’s name at the top of the screen slows down my movements, making the moment more serious. My fingers hover over the keyboard, and I’m stifled on picking how I want to word my text.

I made it back alive

I’m home, no need to worry

I’m here:)

I consider not texting him at all, but brush the intrusive thought that he was just being nice for show, as far away into the corner of my mind as I can manage.

I’m home now

My teeth sink further and further into my lip, the skin stretching and pulling with the corners of my mouth playing tug of war. The three little dots of his incoming text seems to last forever.

How many stops did you have to make? You know how to make a man worry. I’m happy you’re home safe xx

Without much thought, because I know I’d change my mind, I send a smiley face and lock my phone, then quickly make my way to Jessie’s room. Part of me wants to gush to her about tonight, about how he asked to sit together, and how he gave me his number.

But I also have no reason to be so...giddy. His actions are easily explained if you look at them from a different angle. He didn’t want to sit by himself, that’s all. I’m a familiar face. And any decent person would offer a ride home to their...student.

I freeze in the space between our rooms, trying to pick a lane for my mind to travel down. I know myself well enough to know that my first reaction is to dismiss the entire evening, and my brain is pulling on the reins in that direction. But a selfish part of me just wants to relish in tonight’s events. He didn’t have to sit by me, and no one made him give me his number. I need to stop assuming that my presence is so revolting

When I knock on Jessie’s door she hacks a dramatic cough, and mumbles for me to come in.

“How are you feelin’?”

“Oh I’m better, yeah, so uh, how was your night? Did you like it? Did you have fun?” The covers are pulled up to her nose, her big eyes wide and shining right above them. “You look happy? Why’s that?”

“It was good,” I sigh, leaning against the door frame. “I’ll type up your notes in the morning.”

“I’ll probably feel up to it tomorrow,” she nods and I roll my eyes. “So uh, what did you like about it?”

“Oh...just...it was a good play. Really good.”

“Yeah? That’s it?”

I shrug. “What were you expecting?”

“Nothing, you just came in here with a big smile on your face, thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, sighing. “Nothin’, nothin’.”

“Alright, well, m’gonna go to bed then.”

“Okay...thanks for saving me tonight. Glad you enjoyed it.”

My lips twitch, but I manage to reign in a smile. “Yeah, I did.”

***

I’ll be at the Library this afternoon, so you can stop by. 4-ish.

I read over his text and check the time again. It’s four o’clock now, but I feel early. Fashionably late, that’s a thing, right…that I should have done? He said ish. Does ish mean early or late? My poor brain.

I slip the continuing rewrite of my report from my bag, as if to say when I walk in: I’m here for help with school, that’s all, no assumptions, please. It’s cool outside, and when I walk in there is no relief, and yet my hands sweat. I swipe them over the back pockets of my jeans.

“Hi!” Harry’s not in his work clothes, not in his school clothes either. Faded, light-washed jeans are not something I like, but this day is starting to feel weird, so I might as well throw that out the window too. They’re nice. The t-shirt is nice too. How is he not cold? “You made it.”

“Are you sure this is a good time?”

“I’m free all afternoon,” he chirps.

“Okay.”

He’s at the same table we worked at last time. When I sit down, he adjusts his glasses, and I notice his nails are painted black again. It’s just a color. Black. And yet he makes it look brand new, like he discovered it.

“So what questions did you have?”

How do you always look so good? “Um, I don’t like Henry Miller.”

He chuckles. Everything about me is porous, and I absorb him. I can count his teeth, brow hairs, the depth of his dimple; weird how the lines deepening around his eyes are so divinely explicit. He laughs again. “Me too, love.”

When you laugh like that I wanna pass out. “But I don’t know how to write about him like that. Everything I come up with sounds...childish.”

“I think one of the best things you can do is provide examples. Scour the text—believe me, there’s plenty to choose from—that display his character. The whole book is his autobiography with a fictional twist.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I stay in my head, and he waits for me to speak. I feel like he is always waiting for me to talk. “Um, and then the issue of feminism.” I pause and he nods. “One of the things I kept seeing online is that, um, well people were saying that the book upheld women because the man, Henry, he uh…um...”

“Couldn’t get it up?”

It’s not cold in here anymore, oh God. “Uh, yeah...that part.”

“Okay then. Tell me why.”

“What!?”

“How does that make you feel when you read it?”

I shake my head. What I feel? “It’s...shit. A man not, um, performing, does not and should never, be attributed to the value of a woman. Um, some people think this scene gives her...some kind of power or hierarchy. Or that she is this automatic winner. He doesn’t get to...y’know...and all of a sudden there’s a shift. He fails as a man, so by default she wins as a woman. And that’s how she earns her value. That’s gross.”

“Write that down,” Harry says.

“What?”

“That’s very well put. You took reference of the source, gathered your feelings, and produced a well thought-out conclusion. You can clean it up later, but go ahead and write that down before you forget it.”

***

Our conversation veers off the path once the questions I came with are answered, my report pushed aside. I’m much more calm now, and at times forget that we’ve only known each other for a couple months.

We talk about high school and then books and food. And he’s easy to talk to, I’m reminded. He laughs a lot and blushes a lot.

At one point he jumps up like a child on Christmas morning, urging me to follow him through the aisles so he can show me a book he just finished reading. There’s something very boy-like about him...very cute and sweet and cuddly. I consider making up questions about my report just to see this again...see him again.

Soon the sun starts dipping down, casting globes of shadows over the first floor. Ms. Bortnick flicks the lamps on and the room lights up, although there’s still a dark glow of evening around us. I’m busy flipping through Dickenson, looking for a poem I read years ago to show Harry. Once I find it and peer up, I’m frozen.

He’s standing right below a window, weight leaning on one leg, while he slowly turns the pages of a book. It rests in his open palm, fingers splayed out across the spine and both covers. I gulp. His hands are huge. There’s peace in his reddened cheeks, an artistic contrast to the crease between his brows. Lips are in a content line, and I’m buzzed with the thought that I now know the different looks of his lips. How to others he may appear annoyed or disturbed, but I can tell he’s quite happy.

He is serene, golden; a lighthouse beckoning me towards him. He picks up stray beams of light and swallows them whole, right before my eyes, without moving a muscle. Strikingly bizarre, his features. He’s one of those you don’t want to stop looking at. So I don’t, until he notices me and smiles, nodding back to our table.

I keep my finger in place of the page I’m on, but close the book when I sit down. He follows suit after me.

“D’you find it?”

“Mhmm.” I flip the cover open and spin the book around to face him.

“Read it.”

It’s a gentle request, soft, with the hint of a question mark at the end. I clear my throat as quietly as possible.

““Hope” is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all.

And sweetest in the Gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land

And on the strangest Sea;

Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.”

My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I have to take a moment before looking up at him. He stayed foggy in my peripheral while I recited, mouthing along with his hand lazily hung over his lips, pretending not to know the words.

“I love that one,” he croons, “haven’t heard it in a while.” He slides the book across the table and starts flipping through the pages.

I watch his nails dance, and after a minute I have to clear my throat and look away, like I’m watching something I’m not supposed to, and don’t wanna get caught.

“Ah, here.” His face grows serious, lips sewn together.

My heart somersaults, because I know I’m about to be gifted with strings of moments filled with his voice. I straighten in my seat and hold my breath.

“Remorse is a memory awake,

Her companies astir, —

A presence of departed acts

At window and at door.

It’s past set down before the soul,

And lighted with a match,

Perusal to facilitate

Of its condensed dispatch.

Remorse is cureless, — the disease

Not even God can heal;

For ‘t is his institution, —

The complement of hell.”

“I remember that one,” I whisper. There’s something about myself that I suddenly don’t like, and it’s how attractive I find sadness dripping off his tongue. In a much different way than his nails.

“Yeah,” he sighs, lost in his head. I can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. “How about something more...upbeat?”

***

We share more poems, and get back to a place where we’re smiling. Although, with each passing moment, Harry grows more and more fidgety. His hands can’t seem to stay still, traveling from his mouth to his neck to his rings. He’s the one who keeps starting new conversation topics, in between finding books, but I’m scared it’s me that’s got him anxious.

“I uh,” he starts, after he closes one of Edward Lear's books of limericks. His voice has softened like butter. Smooth like whiskey when it’s 2 am. I forget what time it actually is when he looks at me, his eyes watery, and suddenly, I wish I was drunk. “Um. Can I—is it alright if we—” he shakes his head, eyes tired, tongue-tied. “I—”

“There you are!”

We both jump when a tall, thin guy runs up to our table, out of breath and frantic, he starts tugging on Harry’s arm.

“C’mon, we’ve got a gig. Last minute. Been tryin’ to call you for an hour. Let’s go.”

Harry’s stuttering, looking between me and who I assume is a friend of some sorts, while he eventually complies with the man’s actions and rises from his seat.

“I uh, I’m so sorry...turned my phone off…” I can’t tell who he’s talking to, all I know is that he looks devastated for some reason.

“It’s okay, Harry,” I urge, gathering my things. “We were finished anyway. Thank you for helping me. Again.”

The friend, now standing by the front door, calls Harry’s name repeatedly. Harry’s clearly reluctant in moving towards him, offering up more apologies.

“It’s fine, really.” I push down the disappointment filling me up, and force a smile on my lips. “Go...do whatever you’ve got to do.”

“Right, right, uh—”

“Let’s go!”

“Well, if you need any more help, just let me know. Just text me whenever. Whenever you want.”

“Harold!”

“I will.”

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll see you then?”

“You’d better go,” I laugh, “he’s about to pop.”

“So am I,” Harry mumbles, and trudges off towards his impatient friend.

***

Pickles. Pickles are everywhere. All over our counters, in the sink, the table, the chairs. Jars of pickles. On the couch, the floor, the window sill.

Jessie broke up with Anthony.

When she broke up with Charles, it was sour kraut. Devin was jello. Kaiden was black licorice. Brian was pomegranate. She should make a scrapbook.

“One to ten?” I ask, opening a jar of kosher dill. My mouth waters when the salt hits my nose.

“Five.”

“That’s better than yesterday.” The corners of my jaw tingle unnecessarily when I bite into the green spear. I twitch and wait for it to pass.

She didn’t go into detail about what happened, or even who broke up with who. I came home from my evening with Harry at the library, to find her amongst a storm of soiled tissues on our couch.

There isn’t much to a Jessie breakup. She cries, swallows her feelings emotionally, and whatever random food—physically, calls the guy on the phone to tell him he’s a bastard, and then starts looking for someone new.

In the meantime, I pretty much steer clear of her. With Anthony living so far away, I never had to worry about coming home to them undressing in the living room, or shoving my head under the pillow while I tried to fall asleep. But I’m sure it won’t be long until she’s gushing about someone again, so I need to enjoy my boy-free apartment while I can.

“Y’know, he really pisses me off,” Jessie thinks aloud. She’s sprawled out in the armchair—my chair by the window, where I haven’t sat in a week—with her legs dangling over the side. She bites a pickle in half, and speaks through her chewing. “I mean, here I am, basically just waiting on him every day to call or text or send me a picture...like I really thought he was happy. He got a relationship without all the bells and whistles. Guys dream of that, right?”

I shrug. How the hell should I know?

“Bastard. I’m gonna call him.”

She caps the jar and springs from the chair, slamming the door to her room behind her.

I just hope the next guy has his own place.

***

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. New York, I mean. Sometimes it feels like forever, but then I remember my childhood existed elsewhere, high school sucked, and traffic had nothing to do with it. I’m pretty sure each time I leave and go back home, I’ve aged an extra ten years, like I’ve traveled to space and back. I keep finding traces of this city, in every nook and cranny of my life.

Mom was worried about me when I left. But moms worry about everything. I worry about everything, too. So her not so restrained fears, that she kind of pushed out of her mouth with a hiss, like she wasn’t sure if I was capable of absorbing the truth, didn’t really help me.

It’s a biiiig city. You’re not used to that. I just don’t want you to get swallowed up.

She was right. Sort of. Because you don’t move to New York. New York moves into you. It has its own heart and bones and skin, separate from the rest of the country. And soon your own body starts to wrap around this. Your heart becomes more tolerable to grease-soaked dinners at three in the morning. Your bones strengthen like cement so you can stand still through a harsh stop by a train. Your skin grows so thick, any number of insults bounce right off until they hit the pavement.

What New York hasn’t prepared me for, in the however long I’ve been here time-frame, is Harry Styles in my home. Using the words Harry and home in the same sentence makes me feel like I’ve jumped right into one of the chalk drawings from Mary Poppins.

Right now he’s standing at the big window, in the exact spot where I like to stand, running his hand over his stubble. He adjusts his glasses, and then I think he sees me in the reflection of the glass because he smirks. I duck my head back down and continue on the dishes.

It’s an odd string of events that places him here. Odd for other people—not so much me. Jessie apparently badgered Elliot while they were in class, complaining about her breakup, to the point where she convinced him to go out drinking. And then because Elliot doesn’t drink, and Jessie found that reason enough to drink more, I was awoken at midnight to Elliot banging on our door and Jessie singing her own version of The Way You Make Me Feel. And standing behind the two of them, after I swung the door open in my pajamas, while taking my retainer out, and swiping acne cream off my chin, stood Harry.

Harry was not in his pajamas, and he didn’t have a string of spit connecting his mouth to a piece of plastic, and he didn’t have a giant volcano ready to erupt on his face.

After Elliot dragged Jessie inside, he was left standing there, a quirky smile on his face while he did a kind of half-wave, short and dry in front of his body, and whispered out a soft hey.

Now it’s one am. I’m doing dishes because I’m nervous with this man in my space. Nervous that he’s going to pick up on details about me that I haven’t given permission to be leant out just yet. We can hear Jessie’s drinks making their way into the toilet, and Elliot encouraging her like she’s in a race. I didn’t know what to do with my hands or my mouth, so I filled the silence and busied my limbs with everything that had piled up in the sink the past few days. If they don’t leave soon, I may have to start washing clean forks and knives.

“This is a nice view.”

“Yeah,” the word drifts off, mixing and popping with the bubbles in front of my face.

“I like your apartment.”

“Thanks...most of it’s Jessie’s stuff.”

He nods. “Here, let me…” His face is stern, like he’s preparing to start working on a car engine, and not sliding the dish towel off the counter. He tosses it over his shoulder and starts rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. I forget where I’m at and what I’m doing and even my name.

“Oh you don’t have to…” Dear God his nails are still painted.

“No, no, it’s the least I can do.”

The tendons in his hands pulse, rippling, like when you skip a stone into a calm pond as he dries the first plate. His fingers are long, and there’s generous space between his thumb and the rest of his digits that, for whatever absurd reason, I find attractive.

We work in relative silence, only the slight sloshing of water and the clinks of his rings on the dishes. I regret not turning the tv on at least, and I can feel us both sorting out conversation topics in our heads.

“Is that your report?”

When I look at him, he’s pinching his glasses in his hand, and using a free finger to swipe a few suds that had found their way to the side of his nose. He nods to the coffee table where all of my school works lays in a mess.

“Yeah, among other things.”

“Mind if I have a look? Have you worked on it since we last talked?”

“I haven’t done much...but go ahead. You may have to dig a little to find it.”

He dries his hands and strides around the counter, sitting on the edge of the couch. His sleeves are still rolled up—a blood orange sweater, and charcoal slacks that rise up to reveal matching socks. He picks through piles of paper and folders and flash cards until he finds what he’s looking for. A few of his curls fall and I can only see the bottom half of his face.

I finish washing before he’s done reading. And on a random act of impulse—there’s that New York in me—I dry my hands and make my way over to Harry.

“The quote you added, on the third page,” he sweeps his hair off his forehead when I sit down in the chair beside the couch, “brilliant.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you did an excellent job. And honestly, the entire thing, it’s incredible. It’s easy to talk about your opinion, but it’s difficult to actually back it up. You make it look easy.”

“I can assure you it’s not.”

He laughs without looking up. When he finishes and sets my paper down, he starts sifting through all the other work laid out before him. “How’s your chemistry class going? Didn’t you say you were having trouble?”

“Oh that was at the beginning of the semester. I think I was just overwhelmed.” I swallow and push my brows together. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Well, yeah,” he laughs bashfully. His elbow rests on his knee, cradling his face in his hand with his mouth hidden by the heel of his palm. He blinks slowly, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “How about the homework for our class, the analysis on Slaughterhouse Five?”

“I finished that this morning, uh, I squint down at the table until I remember, “oh it’s in my bag.” I point to the space beside him where my school bag lays on the floor. “It’s right in there. You can look over it if you want.”

He slides my bag over and props it up on his lap, and I keep a hurdle of curses from leaving my mouth when my phone ringing beside the sink startles me. I hurry over to the kitchen only to see it’s just a voicemail from school, reminding me to register for next semester. On my way back, Harry’s face is set into a frown.

“Are you—did you find it? I thought I put it in there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he holds up a piece of paper, “I got it.”

When I sit back down it takes him a moment to drag his eyes off me, clearing his throat and straightening his glasses, then reading over the one page we were supposed to write.

“Very good, well thought out,” he nods along to his comments, “I like your comparison to Ubick...you made really insightful connections.”

“So...I’ll get an A, right?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, slipping the page back into my bag. After he zips it up, we’re sitting in silence again, but not for long. “So, I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Harry clears his throat, and shifts on the couch to better face me, “would you—”

“Oh my God, don’t ever let me drink again.” Jessie hobbles through the bathroom door, Elliot right behind her as he helps her to her room.

“What were you saying?” I ask once they’re gone.

“I—”

“That was intense. Horrific, actually.” Elliot bounds into the living room, plopping down beside Harry with a dramatic sigh. “And she only had like, four drinks!”

“Yeah she’s a lightweight. She doesn’t think she is, but I’ve spent many long nights holding her hair back for hours because of a shot or two.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Elliot asks.

“No I’ve got her from here. Thank you for getting her home, Elliot.”

“Anytime,” he chirps. “Okay, well,” he pats Harry’s thigh, “we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry adds, pushing up from the couch with his friend. “I’ll see you in class Monday, y/n.

“I’m sorry you spent your night drying dishes.”

“What are you talking about? It’s basically a hobby of mine.” The words are cool when they slip out, but it takes me a second to register the joke before I laugh.

“Thanks again,” I say while opening the front door.

“No problem,” Elliot assures me. “Hey, tell Jessie I like her tattoo.”

“She showed you her tattoo?”

“She showed the whole bar her tattoo.”

All I can do is shake my head and laugh.

“I’ll see you.” Harry’s movements are much more collected than Elliot’s. When I look past the threshold of the apartment, to the pair of them standing there, I have to hold back a smile that I don’t want to have to explain. It seems like Harry and Elliot are just...altered versions of me and Jessie. A bit opposite—Harry’s hands are stuffed in his pockets while he rocks on his feet, and Elliot pulls a miniature Rubik’s cube from his jacket.

“Bye, Harry.”

When he nods his dimple grows, and I know he’s fighting a smile.

***

The bell over the door jingles, and I force my eyes to stay focused on the menu hanging over the counter, and not acknowledge the attention I’ve drawn to myself. In a few strides, I’m across the room and waiting behind a short, bald man to order a sandwich.

My foot taps impatiently on the sticky floor, and I second guess my decision in coming here. It’s a little everything shop on the street corner by my dentist. And by everything, I’m including the line of ants crawling up the wall. It’s one of those places where layers of paint and wallpaper disguise the previous month’s investor. A seafood diner, an El Salvadoran bakery, pawn shop, and most recently—and with a wash of baker-miller pink slapped on—Don’s Place.

It’s eerie and unnerving inside, but cheap, and I didn’t want to eat all day before my teeth cleaning, so I’m kind of desperate at the moment. Light chatter fills the space, until someone starts coughing, and the strident atmosphere this place held disappears. When it’s ready, my order is nearly tossed to me over the counter. I grab the once frozen sandwich and fries before they hit the floor, and find a cramped two-seater booth in the corner of this place. I’m right below an air vent, so I keep my jacket on.

I pick the lettuce, that I asked not to have, off before taking a bite, and it doesn’t take long, now that I’m settled and still, for my mind to drift to Harry. He’s really set up camp in my brain—but I’m not complaining. My daydreams are stirring, a little less innocent than I’m used to, and at times I have to catch myself from drifting too far off. Even when he’s right in front of me in class, I wander, practically drowning in my own imagination, getting washed away in him. And I think he notices...I’m not sure if he knows what I’m thinking about, but judging by the smirk he gives when he calls my name, I think he might

Jessie keeps teasing me too, and it’s getting harder to keep my composure. All she has to do is stare at me for a few seconds after I come back from class, and I break. I’ll tell her what he was wearing, what words sounded particularly better from his accent, what questions he asks me in class. I don’t ever answer, just mumble out a come back to me, which spares me until the next class.

I’m rapidly finding a reason for addiction in every minuscule movement he makes. How domestication and carnal activity fuse together under his touch. Pushing his glasses up his nose is both endearing and erotic. The way his tongue hovers over his teeth when deciding his words is hypnotic and wholesome Quickly, he is turning into an adoration. He’s really almost too good to be true, and not the arrogant son of a bitch I pegged him as when we first met.

“Hey.”

I jump. This time his voice is not in my head. I force the bite down my throat and smile. “H—hi.”

“I uh,” Harry starts, eyes glistening, “saw you come in. Just thought I’d say hi.”

“Oh—yeah, hi, um—”

“Can I sit?”

“Yeah, sure,” I squeak.

He sits himself across from me, and I notice the flush creeping up his chest. His fingers dance all around each other, and his energy alone makes me nervous.

He gulps in a breath and smiles awkwardly. “How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good, just,” I nudge my half-eaten sandwich, “stopped for lunch.”

“That’s good, uh, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

“Okay…”

“You—I mean I—” he clears his throat. “Would you like to go out sometime? Just...nothing fancy, the two of us? Not school related? Is that something you would like?”

If I’m being honest, I have many regrets in life. Too many to count. Most too personal to share. If there’s one moment I could do over again, it is this one. I don’t know it yet, though.

I don’t know it as I scramble out of the booth, as I blurt out something about how I have to go, as I weave through this disgusting place, my feet sticking to the floor, plowing through the door.

I run all the way home. He only calls me twice, and when a third never shows up on my phone, I start to cry.

It’s such a weird place to be in. When you know you’re right in the middle of a mistake.

If there’s one moment I could do over again, it would be the night he came into the bookstore.

*******************************************************************************************

Thank you for beta reading for me!!! @cosmospy @aileenacoustic @afterstylesmadeit

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scarlettwitcher · 5 years

Text

Dance To This

Summary: Reader and Dean go to a club and reminisce on their relationship.

Characters: Dean, Reader

Word Count:2800

Warnings: Fluff

Author’s Note: So as most of you know, I am back and better than ever!(lol jk) I had this saved in my docs for more than a year and decided to finally post it for all of yall’s entertainment. I know this may seem a bit OOC Dean and reader has specific tastes but I wrote this when I was obsessed with this song. This one shot is based on the song Dance To This by Ariana Grande & Troye Sivan. I’ve thought about having a series of one shots where each one is based on a song. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this story and let me know what you think!

~*~*~

The bass in the club was so loud, it could be heard from the outside. Just as Dean parked the Impala, you opened the door and practically ran out, staring at the giant neon sign on the top of the building, almost as if it was a cinema. Dean watched you and smiled, shaking his head at your enthusiasm as he stepped out of his baby and followed you inside, watching you like a child running into a toy store.

You had told Dean one night while you two were in bed that you had always wanted to go to one of those dance clubs where everything was dark and they actually played good music and they had black lights all over. Almost like those purple pictures you loved, your aesthetics, or atisticks as Dean called them. Dean never understood half the crap you loved, but the fact that you loved it, he made sure to take the time to let you explain it to him. That night you both were talking about what you wanted to do with your life if you weren't hunting.

“I would probably be a writer. I'd start small, of course, maybe write for the newspaper and write my books on the side and when I was ready, I would publish. What about you?“

“I'd probably own a mechanic shop, build cars, restore them, maybe even motorcycles too. What's something you've always wanted to do?”

“I'd travel the world, see everything.”

“We still can.”

“Dean, you know we can't but you know there is something I've always wanted to do that I think we can, only if you'd want to anyways.”

“Anything for you sweetheart.”

You blushed at the nickname, knowing just how much of an effect it had on you, even after being married for a year. “I've always wanted to go to a dance club.”

“Seriously?”

“Hear me out.”

All Dean did was laugh and nod for you to continue. “Not just any dance club, those that have that sweet chill music, not that weird techno crap, kinda almost down to earth. Kinda underground ish. I've always wanted to go, drink, and dance under the black lights with music like this.” You got up from the bed, grabbing Dean's flannel from the chair it was on, slipping it onto your naked body, buttoning the middle two buttons. You walked over to the desk and grabbed your phone, searching through your music library until the song that had been playing endlessly in your head for the last few days passed by your eyes. You smiled and pressed play. The soft rhythm began to play as you put the volume all the way up. “This kind of music would be playing and it would just be.. Amazing.” You breathed out the last part not realizing just how much you craved these small normal things. Dean didn't laugh as he watched you. He stood and slipped on his boxers as he walked over to you.

Young ambition

Say we'll go slow but we never do

Premonition

See me spending every night with you

“And how would we dance to this?”

Oh, yeah

Under the kitchen lights

You still look like dynamite,

You smiled and slowly started to rock your hips to the rhythm of the song and raised your arms above your head and continued as you stepped closer to dean and continued to sway, feeling him slowly sway with you to the music. You smiled and continued, turning so your back was to his chest as you laid back against him and continued to rock your hips, wrapping your arm around his neck as he buried his face into your neck.

You walked into the club and watched as everyone was dancing and jumping, the club exactly what you had dreamed. You watched with such glee and excitement. Dean felt his heart soar just watching you. He pulled you towards the bar as he ordered you both some drinks. Getting them quickly, you made your way to small round booth with a view of the whole club. You watched as everyone was having the time of their lives. You looked at Dean and pulled him into you, kissing him with all your love pouring into your lips.

It took him 3 weeks to find the club and you knew what he was doing. After that night when you two danced for what seemed like hours, he was glued to the computer. He always said it was research for Garth but you knew better. Of course, you didn't spoil his fun. Finally, he found the club in Los Angeles. He packed everything while you slept and loaded the car. When you woke up in the morning, Dean was nowhere to be found. He left you a note saying he found a hunt and for you to be out as quick as you can. You didn't question it. You showered, changed, and shoved food down your throat, running to the Impala where Dean was packing the trunk. A few good morning kisses and hugs and you were on the road. It was long and Dean wouldn't relent any details to where you were going.

Finally, you arrived to the hotel. It was a fancy hotel that you could estimate was way out of your normal budget. You questioned Dean but he just said it was nice to stay in these now and then. You were too tired to question him. The next day, he said to get ready because you were going out. Once you saw Dean's favorite dress of yours in your duffel, you knew where you were going. You made sure to look your best. You curled your hair in long waves, you applied false lashes, and even put on dark red lipstick. You slid on the tight, black dress that fell around your mid thigh. It was tight but flowy around the end. It had a long v cut down the top and the back was just bare. You slipped on some black stilettos and made sure you looked good before walking out where Dean's jaw fell on the floor. He couldn't even form a sentence as he saw you, just like he did every time he saw you after weeks of a hunt or whenever you wanted to look good for him or even sometimes when you wore his favorite pair of lingerie that you got for him on your one year anniversary. He kissed you roughly and you giggled, feeling just how bad he didn't want to leave. He reluctantly pulled you out driving you to your mystery spot.

Once you pulled away from the kiss, Dean looked dazed. He licked his lips as he caught his breath before cupping your cheek. “What was that for?”

“Don't even get me started. Thank you for this. This is amazing. I love you.” Dean smiled widely, beaming. You giggled as you stood. The familiar beats of your favorite song at the time started as you ran towards the dance floor and yelled out in excitement as the rest of the club joined you. Somehow, it got more packed. You had ended up in the middle where you rocked with the music and kept your eyes locked with Dean as he watched you, taking a sip of his beer. He watched you the way predators watch their prey. He stood and walked over to you before anyone else even thought of touching you. He grabbed your hand and spun you, your back against his chest as you mimicked your moves from that night in his bedroom.

And I wanna end up on you

oh, don't need no place to go

Just put on the radio

You know what I wanna do

You laughed and it was as if time had just stopped. You rocked your hip to the right, feeling Dean press flush against you, as his arm snaked around your hip, feeling the way his fingers dragged against your middle, almost like he was touching your skin. Shocks of electricity sparked everywhere around the two of you. You leaned into him as he kissed your neck, his lips lingering over your skin. Everything happened slowly and you loved it. You loved every second of Dean pressed against you, his lips on your skin, the way the music made you feel, the way you could dance and be free.

We can just dance to this

Don't take too much to start me

We can just dance to this

Push up on my body

You know we've already seen all of the parties

We can just dance to this

We can just, we can just

Dance to this

We can just dance to this

Dean sang the lyrics softly against your ear as the music played on. The club didn't exist anymore. It was only you and Dean. You continued rocking with the music, swaying and moving around in fluid sensual movements, Dean following your lead on every one. His hand dragged up your thigh, almost possessively as you continued to dance, not caring who saw you. You loved Dean so much and you were his.

Dear beloved, bring those 501s a bit closer, bit closer

And dear, my lover

Do that thing we never do sober, sober

You turned in Dean's hold, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around your lower back and the other up to hold your hand. You slowly swayed around with him, laughing and jumping like idiots. Time slowed once more as you jumped and your hair almost floated for a second as you watched Dean, seeing all those years of stress just fading away. You let go of him to jump in front of him, keeping your arms above your head, as you laughed and watched as he copied you but he looked like a big lug. You moved your hands down to wrap around his waist to try and guide him to dance right. He happily let you take control as you guided him around the dance floor, everyone watching you, letting your good emotions rub off on them, following your lead. They all jumped and swayed to the music next to you and Dean.

Oh, yeah, under the kitchen lights

You still look like dynamite

And I wanna end up on you (yeah)

Oh, we don't need no place to go

Just put on the radio

You know what I wanna do

At this point, everyone was singing with the song. You couldn't help the wide smile. You closed your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the beat of the music, the softness of the vocals, the way everyone's jumping and swaying, adding more flavor to the song. You opened your eyes to Dean swinging his hips to the beat of the music. You couldn't look away as you watched your husband lose himself to the music just as you were seconds ago. You had never seen Dean so happy and free. You wished he was always like this. You jumped over to him as you dragged your hands down his chest and matched his movements, letting him take control of the both of you.

We can just dance to this

Don't take too much to start me

We can just dance to this

Push up on my body

You know we've already seen all of the parties

We can just dance to this

We can just, we can just

Dance to this

We can just dance to this

The song was nearing its end. You made sure to make it the best. You were basically yelling out the lyrics at this point but the rest of the club joined you. You ran up to the DJ booth, Dean following close by as the DJ let you on. You stood next to him as you danced, Dean on the other side, as everyone cheered for you as you waved your hands in the air, making sure everyone was doing the same as the end neared.

I don't wanna sleep tonight-night-night-night-night

I just wanna take that ride

I don't wanna sleep tonight-night-night-night-night

I just wanna take that ride

Everyone sang every lyric perfect, the music not even needed at this point as everyone cheered. They made hand motions for you and Dean to jump and crowd surf. You smiled and you did, about a million hands catching you. They threw you up and held you as they bounced you to the rhythm of the music. You squealed and laughed, hearing grunts of fear next to you. You looked at Dean knowing he was scared of falling but the people seemed determined to protect the both of you.

We can just dance to this

Don't take much to start me

We can just dance to this

Push up on my body, yeah

You know we've already seen all of the parties

We can just dance to this

We can just, we can just

The moved you both back to the booth where you were panting. The DJ just laughed at the both of you as you made your way down the stage towards the middle of the crowd where you continued like nothing ever happened. Every fear, every burden, every little thing that caused you stress had disappeared for the night. It no longer existed in your mind. You looked at Dean and you could see it in his deep, green eyes. You saw the happiness, the adrenaline. You saw the eyes of the puppy dog eyed Dean you met years ago. You hugged him tightly as he pulled you up, wrapping your legs around him as he held onto you like his life depended on it or at least, that's how his kiss felt. He kissed you roughly and needily, trying to spell out for you with his lips just how freaking much he loved you.

We can just dance to this

Don't take much to start me

We can just dance to this

Push up on my body, yeah

You know we've already seen all of the parties

We can just dance to this

We can just, we can just

Dance to this

You pulled back as you rested your forehead against Dean's, lost to the world, the only thing that mattered in that moment was him. His smell, his eyes, his heartbeat, his touch, everything in that moment was engraved in your memory, because somehow everything was different. It was all coated in love and pure blissed out happiness and god, what you wouldn't give for it to be like that forever.

Dance to this, love

Dance to this

We can just, dance to this

Dance to this, dance to this

We can just dance to

You went back to the hotel after a couple of hours at the club. Dean was nowhere finished with you that night. He didn't rough it up like he always did. Instead, he took his time admiring every inch of skin, just like your first time together. He kissed every part of you and made sure you knew just how much he loved you. He made love to you 3 times that night. It was 4 in the morning. You were staring out the balcony window, which was wide open, watching the purple sky, seeing the stars. Dean was asleep on your chest. You dragged your fingers through his scalp and listened to him breathe. He wrapped his arm around your waist holding you against him. You smiled softly. You reached over and grabbed your phone. You clicked into your music, clicking on favorites, and seeing the one song that somehow changed everything. You put it to the lowest volume without turning it off. You set your phone on the desk next to the bed as the song played in the background, somehow making everything perfect. You could feel Dean smile in his sleep. You couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was imagining your night at the club. You kept your gaze on the window as sleep finally over took you.

I don't wanna sleep tonight-night-night-night-night

I just wanna take that ride

I don't wanna sleep tonight-night-night-night-night

I just wanna take that ride (We can just dance to this)

I don't wanna sleep tonight-night-night-night-night

I just wanna take that ride

I don't wanna sleep tonight-night-night-night-night

I just wanna take that ride

We can just dance to this

I don't wanna sleep tonight-night-night-night-night

Little did you know that Dean was watching the movie of your life story together and that brought the most comfort to him. That song was just a nice touch to your life. Dean always knew you were the only person he wanted to dance the rest of his life with.

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @authoressskr @sorenmarie87 @reigningqueenofwords @goldenolaf25 @giftofdreams @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @itakeawfultoawholenewlevel @fictionalabyss @gabby913 @angelkurenai @sea040561 @sleepylunarwolf @smoothdogsgirl @carryonmyswansong @feelmyroarrrr @evyiione @supersassyprobablysad @sofreddie @sis-tafics @nitelotus @trexrambling @dancingalone21 @manawhaat @mermaidxatxheart @winchest09 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @lovebodymindstuff @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

Dean Tags: @plaidstiel-wormstache @ackleholic-hunter

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fabrilyshop · 4 years

Text

My Favorite Player Calls Me Mom Soccer American Flag Veteran Independence Day T Shirt

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meand how to be a part of our being around them in the class that was doneand I will come by sequence Basil find out about our legislators rosters about that will come out you find itselfand you know I needed wedding guide on gaining all the people put down for us to live as well as talk about other days like the tone is not a soundtrack you working on new movie right call gridlock and I was amazedand coming back into the deal is with Tim Roth from pulp fiction about getting on the movies is a big name female supervisor outside is my first as a Duracell light is out on a Satmar sentence outside parties big name onset supposedly people I would never get to mom’s outside to showed his range I got back on the southand the rest as I doubt would like to buy basically me to much solo songs Bernard was solved all down everyoneand just to show that you are a business model as well as a creative mind show that also have no size is not my mouth my way raisins business is to tell you what would 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ficsxreaderr · 5 years

Text

Snow in New York

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader. MCU, post-Endgame.

Summary: You met Bucky during your favorite time of the year, and it brought both of you the best years of your lives.

A/N: This is my entry for @marvelfulxbabes ‘s challenge! I entered the challenge with my og account @stateoflovinged. I really enjoyed writing this, I ALWAYS enjoy Christmas, so I hope this turned out well. Also, I thought this was going to be a two-part fic but I guess it’s nicer to read it all at once. Thanks to @livyourextralife for reading this before I posted it and being such a great friend!

Reblogging and feeback are welcome and appreciated!

Masterlist

The view from this bedroom is astounding, the sun setting behind the trees, the sky turning into a shade between orange and pink, the soft wind hitting your body covered with sweatpants and his t-shirt and hoodie. Your hair tied in a bun, your face make-up clean, your skin soft after a hot shower, and your feet warm inside your slippers. You take in the landscape and then walk inside to see your boyfriend walk out of the bathroom, with his skin still slightly wet and his body only covered by a towel that falls right below his waist. He dries his hair carelessly, and sits on the edge of the bed to put on some clothes. He groans lowly as he finishes pulling up his sweatpants, and you frown as you walk to the bed.

“What is it, Buck?” You sit, resting on the pillow and waiting for an answer.

“It’s nothing, doll, it’s just that my back’s killing me today and I can barely move.” Of course it is, the metal arm has many perks, the main one being him having his full capacities back, and as light as he claims it is, it’s sometimes tiring to carry around something that technically, doesn’t belong to his body.

“Oh,” You reply, kneeling on the bed right behind him, and caressing his shoulders and neck in the most delicate way. “Do you think I can help?” You murmur against his ear, earning a chuckle from him.

“You always can, baby.”

You keep caressing his shoulders, but then add some gentle squeezes on his tight muscles. His neck is very stiff, too, and you even find a couple of knots that you massage for a while until they are gone. Right below his shoulders, where his body meets the vibranium, his muscles are completely tense, and there are even more knots, it’s almost unbelievable that he can even move his arm.

“Babe, why didn’t you tell me before? You must be in so much pain.” You stop for a moment and caress his hair, making him sigh deeply.

“Well, it wasn’t that bad, it was bearable until today.” He shrugs, look back at you with a small, almost apologetic smile.

“You should tell me every time, okay?” You kiss his cheek and then he reaches up to press his lips against yours, humming as he understands.

“I will.” He nods. After some moments of working your way through those knots, they start loosening up and you feel his whole body relax, and you smile at that, kissing the base of his neck slowly, until you reach his jawline.

“Is this why you started massaging my back?” He chuckles, unable to move away.

“Of course not, this is just a perk.” You speak against his ear, feeling his muscles jolt below your hands. You keep massaging every single part of his back as you place soft kisses over it, occasionally going back to his neck and his cheeks, teasing him with gentle bites at his earlobe. A shiver runs down his spine and you instantly feel it against your skin, and you both chuckle.

“I’m just trying to make you feel better.”

“You are, sweetheart.” He slowly turns around, with much more relaxed features, and stares at you for a moment.

“What?” You reach up to caress his cheek with the back of your hand.

“I love you.” You heart still flutters every time he says that, just like the very first time, because that’s exactly the way he says it.

“Buck, I love you too.” Kissing him, he smiles against your lips, chuckling. You stop and stare at him, to watch his eyes much more rested, and his shoulders slightly dropped, compared to when he first sat on the bed. “Do you want to get some rest now?” You place a kiss to his jawline.

“Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well, and I have a feeling I might tonight.” You nod and both of you make yourselves comfortable on the bed, he uses two pillows, because he doesn’t like to keep you up with his snoring, and he likes the side opposite to the window, because sunlight wakes him up too early. You lie there, staring at each other for a moment.

“You know, I still think it’s crazy that we met.” You mention.

“Yeah, I think so too, after all this time I didn’t think it was possible to…find happiness.”

Snow is probably one of your favorite things in life, and winter, especially Christmas, is your favorite time of the year. Your family always gets together for the holidays and it’s just the best feeling ever, you get to visit your parents, help out with decorations right after Thanksgiving, which you usually miss for one reason or another, and it definitely is you favorite time to take photographs, even if some of them don’t make it to the online magazines your work for. You stay at your parents’ for this month, because you barely see them through the year, they always find a way of convincing you to stay for so long, and you don’t fight it much because, well, they are your parents.

So going out for walks, ready to take a picture of anything slightly aesthetic that you find is kind of your tradition this month. The day is wonderful, it’s snowing but not enough to keep you inside, so you make your way through the streets of New York, open to find anything worth keeping in a picture. You get to Central Park and see it a bit crowded, so you try to find a spot that’s a bit empty, not to photograph people against their will. Finally, there’s a perfect spot, where you can stand in a good position and take the ideal shot of the park, a beautiful shot of Central Park covered in snow. You sigh deeply, taking it all in and smile, setting your camera. You lift it at eye level, ready to press the button, but someone walks by and stops to stare at his phone right in front of your camera. “Oh, man.” You whisper, not as lowly as you expected, and he turns around, a bit confused about what he just heard. You put your camera down and he takes a few steps closer.

“I’m sorry, did I step into your shot?” He speaks and you look up, even more confused than he is.

“Oh, hi, yeah, you kind of did, but it’s fine, don’t worry.” You chuckle, hopefully not that awkwardly, because you just realized how cute he is. Damn it, his eyes are some shade of blue you’ve never seen before.

“I’m really sorry, my phone rang and…sometimes I get confused even picking up.” He chuckles now, and you unconsciously frown at what he said. “But I’ll…I’ll let you take your picture now.” He nods as he takes a step backwards.

“Wait!” You speak almost impulsively. “I—I actually think you’d be a good addition to the frame…if you don’t mind…” Your voice is almost a wreck by the end of the sentence.

“Would I?” He asks, getting closer again.

“Well, yeah, I mean you’re tall and…stout.” You smile. “And you’ve got a nice profile, if you allow me to say.” He instantly blushes, looking down at his feet with his hands deep into his jacket pockets. He chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “But if you’re not comfortable, I understand.” You add, making him look up at you.

“No, no, it’s not that, I’m just…it’s been a while since I’ve received a compliment, even if it was a bit…subtle.”

“Oh, I see.” You nod.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what are those shots for?” He points at your camera, revealing his glove-covered hand.

“I’m, um, I’m a photographer for online magazines but this one is for a…Christmas collection that I put together every year…just for…fun.” You press your lips in a thin line, insecure of what he might think of you wanting to take a picture from a stranger.

“That sounds…fun, actually.” You both laugh as if your minds agreed to, and you finally see a broad smile, and how the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s really attractive, who is he?

“It is.” You nod.

“Well, I’ll gladly appear in your picture if you think it’ll look good, I’m not exactly sure.”

“It will, trust me.” He smiles yet again.

“Okay, where should I stand?” You give him directions, you take him to the exact spot you want him and tell him to look to his right, so in the picture it will seem as if he’s looking at the ice-rink. He really could be a model, but you’re pretty sure that’s not where you’ve seen him.

“Alright, you’re perfect there, don’t move.” You instruct him and go back to your position so you can finally take the picture, or two, but you won’t say. “Done!” You exclaim and he walks towards you, with his hands in his pockets.

“Can I see it?”

“Of course you can.” You show him the picture and he smiles. “Do you like it?” You ask and both of you look at each other.

“I do, you’re…very talented, you made me look decent.” He shrugs, joking, making you chuckle.

“Come on, you’re…almost a natural.”

“Hey, do you think I can have at least a digital copy of that?” He asks a bit hesitant.

“Well, yes! I mean, it’s your picture after all, is a text alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Though you might need my number for that.” Smooth enough. You smile and bite you lower lip, making him smile back. You nod and almost immediately take your phone out of your pocket and hand it to him after it’s unlocked. He chuckles and takes it slowly, typing his number and then hands it back.

“I’ll send it as soon as I can, I still want to take some shots for today.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He nods.

“Hey, um…I didn’t get your name…” You frown. Bucky’s heart races at those words, he didn’t think of that until he decided to give you his number, and it just stresses him out, because he’s been laying low for a while, his life has changed so much since that thing with Steve happened, and it’s been in constant change since World War II, so it’s not common for him anymore to be giving out his name to people like everyone else does. A very little detail, a very simple sentence, two very easy words to say are just too much for the former Winter Soldier still.

“I’m…I’m…Bucky.” He blinks rapidly, as if he’s hesitating, and offers you his hand and you shake it.

“Bucky? I’ve…never heard that before…is it a…”

“Nickname, yeah.” He smiles. “I’m Bucky Barnes.” You freeze for a moment, now that name you’ve heard before, of course you’ve heard it and of course his face looked familiar to you. He figured he might as well give you his last name, before you found out on your own and got mad at him after you’ve just met.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “I…I knew you were familiar, you’re…you’re…” Bucky’s heart stops right there, when he thinks you’re going to remember he’s the deadliest assassin of the century, that he’s one of the most dangerous men on Earth, and Hydra’s pawn for everything they’ve done. But he’s suddenly relieved, and quite shocked when he hears you complete that sentence, “An Avenger, wow, I can’t believe I’m meeting an actual hero!” You smile widely. He’s speechless, literally he has no idea what to say, you see him as a hero, as someone who’s saved people, not the opposite.

“You know, I’ve read about you and Steve Rogers at the museum, and then read and heard a lot about each member of the Avengers…you guys brought half the universe back and saved it…” You shake your head, not quite believing your eyes.

“Well, you could say that…” He speaks a bit nervously, with a small grin. “I don’t like to be called a hero, though, it’s a big…name.”

“I bet it is.” You nod. “Well, I just have to say thank you.” He shrugs. “And maybe hope you’ll accept grabbing a cup of coffee with me.” He widens his eyes in surprise, unable to stop smiling, as his eyes glisten the more he hears you speak. “We don’t have to talk about the hero thing, of course, you just…seem like a nice guy.”

“I accept.” He nods and chuckles. “But…how about you tell me your name now?”

“Right!” You chuckle. “I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/LN since I already know your last name.”

You keep your camera inside its bag and Bucky joins you as you walk to find a coffee shop.

“Hey, so, do you live here in New York or are you just visiting?” He asks, with a much more confident tone in his voice.

“I live in Boston and come this whole month to spend it with my parents…and take some pictures.” You pause. “But I was born here and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I had to go to Boston for work, you know, and figured it was easier to live there.”

“I bet it was.” He chuckles. “I love New York, despite…many things that have happened.”

“It just feels like home, right?” You look around with a small smile, not realizing he’s only looking at you. You look up at him and he’s not even tried looking away, he smiles at you for the millionth time today, and it feels warmer every time. “So can you tell me about yourself? I mean…I don’t want to ask something that I shouldn’t.”

“No, it’s okay.” He clears his throat. “I…grew up in Brooklyn, which I figure you already know. And, um, well, I’m a veteran, theoretically…and a senior citizen.” He jokes with the last words, looking at your eyes and making you laugh a lot.

“Wow, I do feel a lot of pressure now, I’ve got reasons to treat you right.” He laughs now, happy that you got his joke, and his heart flutters for the first time in a really long time. He forgot how it feels to talk to a girl and make her laugh, to walk around with someone that apparently doesn’t expect anything from him but a casual conversation, to look a girl right into her eyes and see that she’s enjoying herself around him.

“You better.” He speaks, letting that lovely Brooklyn accent out for a second, which for some reason, he didn’t have before. It’s so cute, to be honest.

“Come on, tell me more, I want to know.” You nudge him and he looks down at you with a new glow in his eyes, smirking.

“Alright, um…I…am living in the newly built compound with Sam, and other…colleagues, including Steve, though it’s weird now because…” He stops for a moment and swallows and clears his throat.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, whatever it is, don’t feel pushed.”

“No, I…I actually feel like talking about it. I haven’t been able to but right now it…felt right.”

“Oh,” You’re quite startled by what he said as if he trusts you out of nowhere, or at least that’s what you think. “Okay, why is it weird now?” You spot a coffee shop right across the street and stop since the red light is on.

The conversation you and Bucky held that day will forever be your favorite, no matter how much time passes, how many hours you spend with him, how much your love grows and how many times you say you love each other, because that day it was settled that he was your soul mate, the love of your life.

For the past two years, you’ve kept your tradition of making photo collections during Christmas, except now, they include pictures of you and Bucky, and of course, with the rest of the team, and you have pictures of the compound covered in snow, of the whole team decorating inside, of you and Bucky ice-skating and constantly falling down; your life has been a dream since that day a stranger stepped into your shot, and you couldn’t feel luckier.

“Sam! Could you bring that box closer, please?” You speak up from the ladder you’re standing on, pointing at the box filled with the little star-shaped ornaments that are your personal favorites from the whole tree.

“Coming, sweetheart!” Sam teases as he picks up the box and holds it up for you.

“Careful, Sam, I’m never that far away.” Bucky speaks as he walks into the lounge back with a cup of coffee.

“Oh, I know that, especially in this weather you’re close to her.” Bucky shakes his head and chuckles.

“Babe, I brought you some coffee, come down here and take a break.” Bucky says to you and you slowly get down from the ladder.

“Thanks, Buck.” You take the cup and reach up to kiss his cheek. “But I don’t need a break, I love decorating.” You shrug as you sit on the couch, folding your legs so you can place the mug on your knee. “However if Sam finally finished putting the lights on the tree, that would be very helpful.” You joke. Bucky sits beside you, draping his arm around you so you can get closer, and he kisses your hair.

“Well, I finished my set of lights.” Rhodie says as he sits on the other couch. “Sam’s like a kid being told to order his room.”

“I got the longest set of lights! It’s not my fault.” He shrugs as he continues with his task, barely untangling them.

“Sam, all the sets are the same, stop whining and work.” You tease him and roll your eyes, making Bucky laugh. Out of everything you and Bucky have shared and every moment you spend together, making him laugh is probably your favorite thing, besides, obviously, sharing a bed with him.

“What about Bucky? He’s not set anything on the tree.” Sam rests his hands on his hips in a very dramatic tantrum.

“I’ve set all the lights outside with Clint, Sam, that’s much harder than hanging a plastic shiny star. And Clint just comes here to visit, you live here.” You laugh and look at him, kissing him.

“The coffee is great, babe, thanks.” You kiss him again.

“How come Bucky’s the only one with a girl? I mean, he doesn’t even go out that much.” Sam says as he finally starts putting on the lights.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky asks, faking offense. “I got plenty of girls back in the day, and I can still get them now.”

“Them?” You quirk up an eyebrow and stare at him. “How come?”

“Well, you’ve seen that, when we go out, a couple of girls are…staring.” He shrugs.

“They don’t just stare, you even talk to them sometimes!” You nudge him.

“Yeah! To tell them I have a girlfriend!” He exclaims back, pulling you closer to him.

“You better tell them or I’ll have you take down all the decorations, including the tree, at the end of the year.”

“It’s a deal.” He kisses your cheek.

It has been so great the way the team accepted you moving into the compound, there’s plenty of room for everyone, and they make you feel at home every day, and even more now that you’re in charge of making Christmas what it should be, the best time of the year. Everyone got presents for everyone else last year and they said they really enjoyed sharing as a family, which is what they are despite all the…loss.

Night has fallen and so has the temperature, it is very cold outside so you’ve had F.R.I.D.A.Y shut all the windows and turn on the heating. You’re in the mood of sharing a cup of hot chocolate with Bucky but he’s nowhere to be seen. The kitchen is an option so you walk in to find Sam way ahead of you.

“Well, look at you all Christmassy drinking hot chocolate.” You tease him, quirking up an eyebrow, making him look at you with a smirk.

“The weather demands it, this is purely a survival instinct.” Both of you chuckle.

“Hey, have you seen Buck?”

“You wanna get all warmed up with him, huh?” He says with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, with hot chocolate.” You cross your arms.

“I think he’s outside.”

“Outside? But it’s freezing!”

“You do remember the guy’s always warm like a bird, right? He puts on a sweatshirt and he can survive snow.” You laugh at that, especially at the bird reference considering Sam’s suit.

“Alright, Birdman, I’ll go check on him.”

The sight of Bucky standing still staring at the lake with his hands in his pockets reminds you of something he told you a while ago, something that was really painful for him to watch and that he rarely opens up about. Oh, I know what this is about. With slow steps so he doesn’t hear you, you approach him, until you’re standing beside him.

“Hey.” You speak really low. After a second or two, he turns to see you and gives you a very small smile. “It’s cold out here.”

“It is.” He chuckles. “I was just…remembering.” He turns to see the lake again and you stare at him as his face gives him away.

“I thought so.” You say after a moment. “I don’t know what I would’ve done in his place, it’s hard to tell.”

“I wouldn’t have gone, you know.” He says louder, looking at you again. The answer is a shock to you, it is not what you expected him to say. You frown, mostly in compassion and let him continue. “We went to what we went through, it is what it is.” He shrugs. “It was…bad, but I…I was starting to live with it and past it.” He shakes his head. “We had each other again, Y/N.” You reach up and caress his cheek slowly, tracing your thumb along his stubble. “I thought at least that would last longer this time…”

“I know, Buck.” You say after you’ve swallowed to avoid the sob that threatened to bubble past your lips. “I know that’s what you wanted.” You nod slowly. He takes your hand gently, his warmth contrasting with your cold skin, and takes it to his lips to kiss your palm, earning a small smile from you. “I’m sorry about everything, but there’s so much you can remember about him to feel better, isn’t there?” He scoffs and smiles, looking down at his feet.

“I guess you’re right.” He looks up again. “It’s the first time I’ve said all that out loud…and I am so glad you were the one to hear it.” He cups your face and brings you closer to press his lips to your forehead for a moment. The wind doesn’t feel that cold anymore, and his heart doesn’t feel so lonely since the day he met you, and much less right in this moment. The birds chirping as they seek shelter in the trees remind you of Sam’s comment earlier, and you chuckle, looking away.

“What is it?” He asks, dropping his hands to your shoulders and stroking them to warm you.

“Um…Sam said today that you are always as warm as bird and that’s why you don’t mind being out in the cold.” He laughs, forcing his eyes to narrow and his crinkles deepen, giving you a view worth admiring.

“I won’t even deny that.” He shakes his head and pulls you closer to him, making you bury your face in his chest, and you press your lips to it, even if it’s covered by his sweatshirt and t shirt. He strokes your back and then kisses your hair, sighing deeply.

“Y/N…you make me want to be a better man. And I will be…with time.”

“Bucky, you are a good man, you are the man I need and the one I want in my life.”

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weeklyfangirl · 5 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 13

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

HI WOW TIME HAS SERIOUSLY FLOWN BY FOR ME - enjoy your fratty frat boy in all his angsty glory ;) Let me know what you guys think I miss you!!

“Down to watch Hocus Pocus and pass out candy to wee ones? My parents invited me down.”

Renny’s eyes softened, imagining the cuteness of last year when a toddler showed up dressed as a magnet with an attached note card saying “chick.”

“Okay, usually, yes, but the-”

“DG’s,” I groaned.

Midterms were creeping up and I was slowly dying between late night grading biology tests and the stress that’d been building up wondering about what in the fuck Harry had going on in his mind. He was hot, he was cold, and I wasn’t sure if this was all a massive game to him. It’d been relatively silent on the Harry front ever since the day of island paradise. The memory of his penetrating eyes examining me on the pier, and the twinge of electricity between us had inspired my wandering fingers more than once. I wouldn’t admit that to him, hell, I could barely admit that to myself.

I’d been too stubborn to text him, but not too stubborn enough to wear his sweatshirt out this morning. If we were friends, wearing his sweatshirt wouldn’t be weird. Technically he’d just invited me to meet his dad, which I admit, stung a bit, but a part of me couldn’t give up that he wasn’t into me. Could eyes lie so easily?

The ball was technically in my court to tell him whether or not I’d be going, so…

I slurped a scalding sip of tea, cringing at the inevitable. “Welp, if you’re going to ditch me for the DGs then I might as well go to Harry’s.”

She smirked, “I know.”

I smacked her arm. “Is that why you’re ditching me?!”

“Hey, I’m not ditching you. It’s a thing for new recruits. You were invited, too.”

My ear still ringed with my mom’s shrill scream on the other end of the line when I’d told her - though I’m not sure if she’d be more excited by the fact that her daughter was going to visit the Styles residence or a sorority party.

Renny continued, “And please, as if you’d really go hang out at your parent’s alone when you have an offer to play co-host with Mr. Hunky Mystery Man. We’re sad sometimes, but we’re not that sad. Actually…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… I’m surprised Harry isn’t going to be at the frat’s party.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “He said it was a family tradition.”

Renny’s brows rose at the F word.

“Okay, but their house is also huge, I doubt it’s going to be an intimate affair.” Truthfully, I was excited to see how their house would be decorated. When I told my mother I probably wouldn’t be coming home to pass out candy, she’d told me not to worry. The neighbors were coming over and they had a couple of cheap wine bottles to drain. I’m sure not telling her I was going to the Styles's house wasn’t going to be that big of a deal.

“Are you kidding me? If Harry hands out a grand to cabana men then I can’t imagine what they’re going to spend on this party. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous.”

“Wait- what? He gave Ben a thousand dollars?”

“Is Ben the cabana man?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. Or about a grand, I mean I didn’t count it myself but it was a thick. Stack.” Renny’s brows shot up. “You seriously didn’t see that?”

No wads of cash were in my memories. I was too busy retreating away to the golf cart to notice any grandiose money exchange. Ben’s words when he was saying goodbye to me at the golf cart suddenly flashed in my mind - tell him thank you for me.

Thank you.

I hadn’t even assumed the reason why. Probably because out of all things, I wouldn’t have guessed that.

Renny tapped on her lips, signalling to mine that I painted a nice neutral. “Like the shade. What’s it for?”

I looked to my watch. “Zayn. And I’m actually going to be late.”

“Ugh, not fair!! Why can’t I have an artist draw me?”

“Please, Felix was practically drooling over you last year, and he’s a graphic designer, right? I’m sure he has some sketches of you locked away in a cabinet somewhere.”

Something that resembled a blush spread on her cheeks.

“Oh my god. Does he?!”

“He probably got rid of it by now.”

I shook my head, scooping up my tea and 50 pound school bag with me. Leave it to Renny to have a collection of men up her sleeve at any given time. Even the beautiful brainy boy.

“Tell Niall to try drawing,” I called back. The mention of the frat star turned a few heads at the crowded campus coffee shop, and I bit my lip at the scene, skirting across campus to the art studios where people wishing to escape found their haven.

---

“A little to the left,” he murmured. His golden brown eyes peered over the white canvas, tirelessly scrupulous as they focused on each feature, and I felt my heart beat faster at the intensity of attention. “A little up.”

My head tilted to his command, my exposed neck feeling even more naked as I noticeably swallowed.

Did he hear that? Did the music need to be played louder?

“Beautiful.” He reached for another charcoal pencil in his kit. “Have you been in here before?” His voice gently rose over the Coldplay softly playing from the speaker system.

“No, not yet,” I admitted. “I was going to take a ceramics class, but I dropped it the first week. Not exactly the sculptor type.”

“So you’re not the artist, more the painting?”

My brows furrowed. “What?”

“I’m taking ceramics,” he said, not bothering to clarify.

“Yeah? You like it?”

He didn’t answer, sweeping his pencil across the page - the aesthetic lulling of the way it scratched along the paper making me realize that yes, he’d definitely heard me gulping earlier.

The soothing noise didn’t stop, and he didn’t answer for a time that seemed much longer than a minute. I wonder what Harry was doing right now? Was he in class? Practice? Not that I should even be thinking about him.

The little smug version of me was dancing in my brain, delighting in the fact that somebody else was paying attention to me, that there were other people who found me desirable besides Harry. Sure, this was solely for Zayn’s assignment, and yeah, Harry could easily have any number of women he merely glanced at - but me? I could get by without him just fine, and-

“Your face comes across so soft on paper. Gentle,” he said, glancing first at his work, then up to me, as if trying to see if the reality mirrored the copy.

I shifted nervously, but the swivel chair was more sensitive than I’d thought and I almost went flying off the other side. He laughed a bit, before taking his top lip between his fingers.

“Look, I’ve nearly got this one finished right. I’ve got your basic outline to finish the rest on my own, creative liberties ‘n that, but I’ll need a few more still lifes from you if that’s…”

“Yeah! That’s fine.”

“Might be a longshot with the holiday, but do you mind coming in this weekend?”

Plans of the Styles’ Halloween bash rang as a reminder, and it buzzed throughout my entire body. “I can’t, actually. I’m going to a party, I think.”

“Really!” he set down the pencil dramatically. “Am I going to see you in a plaid skirt up your bum again, missy?”

“Ouch, no! But fair. Cringeworthy, but fair.” I slid down the chair, crossing my arms. His eyes didn’t change in their intensity even if he wasn’t holding a pencil. “It’s the Styles’ Halloween bash Saturday. I’m guessing it’s a family-friendly affair so no, I will not be in anything showing any skin, anywhere. I guess they do it every year.”

Realization sunk in, but it seemed a bit of a show. “Harry, yeah, that’s right. Are you two…?”

I shook my head, thinking of what Harry must say when (or if) he got asked the same question. There was no doubt in my mind.

“No.”

It was some weird “in between” with us, but no was a much easier answer.

“Right, well, that’ll be interesting then.” He bit his cheek, mulling over something he wasn’t quite sure he should say.

“What?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. “Nothing, it’s just… I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a part of that family. It’s got a lot of history.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Let’s just say there aren’t that many British boys that get adopted by Americans.”

I tilted my head back, put off at the slight arrogance in his tone. There was a protective side of me that wanted to rear its head and bristle whenever somebody talked down to Harry, and I wasn’t sure how to put it away.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You can look up the story, but-”

A knock at the door, and a petite black-bobbed Asian girl peered her head in.

“Hi, I have the room at 5:30.”

I glanced to the clock on the wall, just a little past.

“We’re finishing up,” he said. She nodded, not budging. A little territorial over the studio space. Which, I completely get. Once midterm season hits, the library starts to resemble a refugee posting with people camped outside cubicles and “quiet rooms,” hoping for the prior group to leave a little earlier if they didn’t have reservations of their own.

“Yeah, we’re done.” I picked up my bag, and put my beanie over my head.

“Well, I’ll be in touch then. Sometime next week?” He followed me to the door, and placed a hand to my lower back. I stopped, trying to discern if there was something else behind his eyes. Maybe this hadn’t just been for a project.

But his hand was removed just as quickly, and with a little “See ya,” he closed the door behind me.

-----------

Lines of vintage cars parked outside the Styles’s home wasn’t what I’d been expecting when Harry had shot a text that it was a masquerade gala. Maybe it should’ve, but it wasn’t. I squinted my eyes at a woman in a neon vest waving around her flashlight to the approaching cars and signalling them to available spots along the street.

How was I meant to find him in this madness?

“Here is fine,” I told the Lyft driver. I’d bit the bullet (or rather, my wallet) to get a ride. I thought I’d bypass the embarrassing “car dying” scenario again and just play it safe. Not that I was expecting to spend the night again… the toothbrush I’d stuffed in my purse screamed otherwise, and seemed to burn a hole into my thigh.

But still, totally not expecting to spend the night.

Totally …. not ….

The sound of the Uber leaving made me realize I was doing this. Again. Willingly walking into the lion’s den simultaneously with at least ten other well-dressed individuals.

Expect me tonight, I’d sent. It was a little bold. I had to refrain from sending any emojis, but I’d done it. Played it cool.

Wear a mask, he’d replied. And I felt my stomach drop a little bit. He hadn’t said-

Cool! Gee, thanks for letting me know! Wow that’s so nice to hear! You made my day!

No.

Just a simple three word request. Actually, more like demand. I bristled the same moment my phone buzzed.

Please.

I sighed. I guess it was four words.

Of all the themes to pick though… I rolled my eyes at “masquerade.” Renny had done the opposite, and flew to her dresser, opening a drawer full of toys and masks and - oh my gosh was that a leash? She handed me one, black lace over the eyes that could lift up and over the cat headpiece. I didn’t ask any questions for why she had this so readily available, because guessing from the other contents in the drawer, I already knew the answer.

“You look-” Renny kissed her fingertips- “Bellissima.”

Older, sophisticated silver foxes arm-in-arm with their wives took the time to glance at the young woman approaching the estate.

I blamed it on the deep red dress Renny stole from the theater department (or borrowed as she insisted). It fanned out with dramatic flair like an 18th century production of Shakespeare would - or how our school’s production of Much Ado About Nothing would (which was now short one costume).

The doors opened to the tinkling of a piano.

Amidst cocktail waiters weaving between the masked strangers, someone was actually playing it. He had brown curly hair and I practically raced to his side to avoid standing in the foyer alone any longer.

“I didn’t know you could play.”

The man quirked his face, his hands not stopping.

Even with the mask I could tell it wasn’t Harry.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, stumbling back.

Hands gripped my shoulders, as lips went to my ear-

“Not well.”

Twisting in his grasp, the familiar curve of his smirk appeared. His green eyes were highlighted by golden flakes etched into a black mask, and my breath quite literally caught in my throat. Somehow, each time, I forgot the magnetism they held. And somehow, each time, I forgot that I was absolute putty in his hands.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

Something flashed in his eyes and I knew it didn’t come out right. “The house looks… amazing.”

I was floundering, FLOUNDERING.

His nose crinkled the same time he placed a hand to the small of my back. “Too many cobwebs.”

And without a word, he started leading me through the crowded rooms. Cobwebs over the banister and scary paintings of haunted people replaced the usual art in their home - except for the centered family portrait, intimidatingly framed in gold. The cobwebs were a fitting touch. I wondered how many secrets these walls held, how many years things have been kept in the dark, or swept under the rug.

Every family had them, but something told me this place had enough storage in all its rooms to hold more than I could imagine.

We passed a room set-up with aisles of empty chairs and a projector screen that read “Jane Foundation.” Pamphlets and envelopes were lain on each of the chairs, but we walked too quickly for me to get a closer read.

“What’s that for?”

“Later. You don’t know?”

I shook my head. He slowed to a halt in the hallway.

“My parents put on a fundraiser every year for the children’s hospital. It’s how we end the evening.”

My mouth opened and again- floundering. He scratched behind his ear.

“Yeah, I thought.. I don’t know, I thought everyone knew. But I shouldn’t assume I guess.”

I just shrugged my shoulders, accepting that his family had the capacity to pull something like this off. That the were pulling this off. That I was even here. Clearly living ten minutes away was certifiably living under a rock.

He paused, a slight quirk in his lips. With the distraction of the music and the people, I hadn’t had the chance to really look at him. Or him, at me. If anyone ever asked, I’d call him shameless, but I wouldn’t even call it that as he drank me in. It didn’t seem as intentional as that. It was instinctive.

I drank him in as well, and even if it was just a brief moment facing each other in the hallway with masked strangers streaming through, it felt like it was just him and I. How long had we been like this? Broad shoulders in a nice suit, a tall frame that could cover and protect, brown curls that looked so soft to touch, and eyes that spoke of scary pasts and a soft heart that locked me still in place. He was walking poetry and as much as it made me sick, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted him closer, to lean in closer...

“Come on,” he murmured, but this time he was in front of me.

I followed, straight to the dining room.

“Oh, you are trying to get me to not fit into this dress,” I said. It was full of catered food from the nicest restaurants in Coast Hills. Last time I’d been in this room, it hadn’t been the most comfortable encounter. Now that the corset was digging into my ribs and I was a little short of breath, I predicted I was in for Awkward Dinner Part II.

“You aren’t hungry?” He faltered, turning to face me.

I gave a coy smile. “Well I didn’t say that…”

“Hey! So good to see you.”

Gemma burst through a small cluster of people, Charlie right behind her. His navy suit matched her slip dress, tapering off at the ends like the foam from a wave.

She embraced me, Charlie soon after. But it was the same side-hug squeeze that made me remember him. Harry noticed my grimace. Charlie noticed Harry noticing me.

“All good?” Charlie pulled back.

“My brother did that all the time,” I said. Harry handed me a glass full of champagne, and I took it, happy to have something else occupy my mouth. I hadn’t expected to say that at all.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Harry said.

“You don’t know a lot of things.”

Gemma perked up. “That’s right, put him in his place.”

“He’s not around much so, I don’t think to talk about him much.” I left it at that, a slight offering to make Harry feel less offended. His expression was impossible to read, and I wasn’t sure if my words had actually helped or hurt.

“I have a sister like that. Moved to Lisbon with her boyfriend. We see her on holidays though.” Charlie jumped with a chill. “Jiminy- it’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

“Have more wine babes, it’ll cheer you up,” Gemma said. And just like me, a champagne flute was suddenly in his hands.

“Well we were just headed to get some food,” Harry mentioned, eyes slightly widening when they locked with mine - a silent plea to take his cue.

“Wait! Let me take a picture really quickly.”

“Gemma,” he sighed.

“Just a little one! Just a quick...second...” She dug in her purse, struggling to juggle the wine and the mini plate of couscous and falafel.

I took a step to the side as soon as she pulled the camera out.

“Hello? Where do you think you’re going? Get back in there.”

Harry raised his brows to me, both in annoyance and apology. I stood next to him, and he placed an arm around me. It was just for a moment, but I still felt him. Always.

Gemma smiled at her phone. “Aww, this is perfect. I’ll send it to mom, too. She’ll like it.” She said the last bit cautiously.

Harry’s face turned unreadable, his eyes complete stone.

“One for me now,” she said, reaching down for something else.

“I swear, she can hide an elephant in that bag and the only reason someone would know is because it’d trumpet during the previews.”

She pulled out a polaroid camera. Somehow, in the past five seconds, he’d gone from mildly annoyed and embarrassed to deadpanned over it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually growled.

She held up the camera so I smiled, but as the flash went off and I looked beside me - he was gone.

“Oh! Harry,” she scolded, but he’d already walked too far away. I saw him weave his way towards the windows of the house and look out.

“You shouldn’t have mentioned her.” Charlie kicked his shoe. He saw Harry too, looking vigilantly out the window. A second longer and he turned on his heel. He stood taller as he made his way back.

“Well, at least it’ll be a good picture of you. I’m creating a little collage of the evening.” Gemma put the camera away in her big bag. She reminded me of a mom on prom night and suddenly I felt like I should send that photo to someone, too.

“That’s so cool! I’m sure it’s going to look so… cute.” Through the crowd, Harry motioned to the food. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to say brief goodbyes to his sister.

“We won’t keep you. Get the pasta pops though. To die for,” Gemma said. “Charlie and I were going to take a stroll by the pool if you want to join us after.”

“Yes! Oh, and would you mind sending me the photo, too? My mom wants proof I’m alive tonight.”

“God, of course. Here.” She gave the champagne flute to Charlie, typed in my number, and sent it off.

“We’ll see you later,” Charlie said.

“The pasta poppers!” she exclaimed, flute in the air as they weasled their way out to the patio.

Before I could wonder where Harry was, he met me by the Sprinkles cupcakes stand.

“Going for dessert first?”

“Looking for the moon?” I picked one of the mini cupcakes and plopped it in my mouth to spite him. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away for a split second before looking back. His smile grew.

“Damn it.”

My heart picked up its pace.

“You caught me.”

He held another cupcake to my lips but I shook my head. “I’m hungry for real food right now.”

He nodded, and without me saying another word, he took my elbow to bring me to his side. It was comforting to have his hand at my back as we walked through the spread of food. Even if it was lightly placed, in a crowd full of people I didn’t know, at least I had a place with him. My eyes widened when I saw them. The glorious, innovative Pasta Pops. AKA rolled up ball of pesto pasta on chopsticks… I grabbed four.

“So, when am I seeing your dad?”

“What?” He piled more food on top of the mountain already growing on his plate.

“Your dad. The reason why you invited me.” I didn’t believe it. Not anymore. The host of the party wasn’t going to sit down and talk about a potential internship at his own full-fledged party.

I put a Pasta Pop in my mouth. His attention broke and he watched my lips go over the ball, puckering as I pulled it to the tip. It’s when my lips came off with a “pop” that he sucked in a cheek, smirking.

“You won’t be talking with Lionel long. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself in the meantime.”

But when I reached over someone’s arm to grab a slider, they stopped me.

“Hey, you.”

His eyes lit up and instantly I was drawn in for an awkward hug. Behind his back, I mouthed did you plan this?

He shrugged his shoulders and looked away with a sly look.

Lionel pulled away from our quick embrace and looked to my pile of food. It was my turn for the awkward shrug.

“No, it’s good! Keep going! We have enough food here to feed a small country. Are you still thinking about medicine?”

“Yeah, not much has changed in the past couple of weeks. Same old, same old.”

He paused, raising a finger. “I gave you my card, right?”

How could I forget the card that’s been burning a hole through my dresser…

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to call you, but I’ve been so busy studying with these midterms, and work, too...” I let my voice fade.

“What do you do for work?”

Harry slowed as he picked up a napkin, and I knew he was listening in even if he wouldn’t stop and join the conversation. I watched his eyes skirt across the table close to where my hand toyed with the serving spoon.

“Well, I’m a T.A. right now, but I’m also working in the physical therapy room on campus. It’s pretty easy for the most part, blood doesn’t scare me.”

“Good. You’ll need a strong stomach for most cases.” A man tapped him on the shoulder, stealing his attention. “Give me a call when you can, we’ll set something up at the practice.”

He leaned in behind Harry, both hands on his back. “Take care of her tonight.”

Harry stiffened. I’m not sure why. Lionel had such a warm look in his eyes, I automatically trusted him. As he left with his friend, he flashed us one white smile, and I felt loved.

What the heck was in this family. What kind of beauty steroids did they take?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The quip sounded weird coming from Harry, the Vogue Italia model, leaning against the table. But then again, I was looking after his father with a dazed look on my face that was screaming “I wish I was 40 and you weren’t married.” I snapped out of it and mimicked his pose, equally skeptical.

“If I hadn’t seen your dad here just now, I swear I wouldn’t have seen him at all. I barely recognize the place with so many…”

“People?”

I nodded.

“I promised that you’d talk to him.”

“Riiiight.”

“You don’t trust me?”

My brows rose. “That’s a loaded question.”

A spark of indignance puffed up his chest. “What? You actually have to think about that?”

“I’m just saying. Communication is usually the key to building that up. Just, you know, a friendly tip to help you with those future relationships.” I tapped his chest, and he reached for my wrist. A bold move, sober. He thought so, too, for he dropped it a second later. I was waiting for a, “You can trust me,” but instead he turned serious.

“Smart girl.”

He looked at me that way again. A little too deep, a little too long, and I cursed myself for not knowing what to do. He took a bit of his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I didn’t know you worked in the therapy room.”

“That’s because you never noticed me before.”

“Ah, ah,” he raised a finger like his father. “That’s because I’ve never been injured before.”

I let out a short laugh. “You’re an arrogant thing, aren’t you.”

“Just honest.”

Honest.

But would you answer if I asked, Harry? Would you answer if I asked you what in the heck we were doing? Did I even want to know the answer?

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he said. And it looked like there was something more swimming behind those eyes.

“I am, too,” I said. “Much better than a sorority party...” My eyes narrowed. “What in the-”

“Y/N?”

Clearly, Viv was just as surprised to see me. Mary Styles was beside her, and she raised her glass to me in a distant hello before giving Viv a kiss on the cheek, excusing herself.

“What are you doing here?” The silver blue dress she wore was glued to her skinny frame like snakeskin. Harry shifted his feet as she came closer and I wonder if he noticed how tight it was.

“I followed the noise and traffic directors and decided to hop the gates,” I said.

“You didn’t get the initiate invite?”

An almost pitiful look befell Harry. “You had somewhere else to be?” His puppy dog eyes confused me.

“Technically, yes. I just, um” - I looked to Viv - “decided to spend my evening somewhere else. You didn’t care to go either?”

“Oh, I come every year. I practically live in the guest room anyways.”

I pictured Viv laying poolside during summer barbeques, coming around for Christmas parties, and waking up in her silk pajamas to Sven handing her delicious pastries.

“Well this’ll be fun anyways. We’ll have our own little sorority party here.” She turned to Harry. “Can I speak to you for a second?”

“Yeah.”

She looked at me apologetically, then back to him. “Alone.”

His eyes narrowed just the slightest, but he didn’t even have to think about it. He placed a hand at my back. “I’ll just be a second.”

Viv gave me a half-smile as she interlinked her arm through his, and they left, abandoning me in a swarming crowd with cold sliders. Without him beside me, I fought the ever-present urge that I didn’t belong, but wandering to the glass doors, I saw the red gown in the reflection, the black lace of my mask. I didn’t look like regular ‘ol me tonight. Nobody knew me tonight. A rush of confidence ran through me.

I was somebody. With, or without Harry.

A twinkling bell carried through the halls the same time I stood a little taller. The piano music died down and everyone quieted.

“I hope everyone is enjoying their evening,” the shrill voice of Mary Styles carried higher as she placed herself atop the spiral staircase. Some people clapped a little prematurely and she smiled at them graciously. “If everyone could please begin filing into the foundation room, we are about to begin the programme.”

I stole another flute of champagne. Programme.

The twinkling sound rang again and people began handing their plates over so they could grab their wallets. Several men apologized as they bumped into me, trying to move around the cocktail waiters. Wherever Harry was, he’d just have to find me later. I followed the crowd when my blood ran cold.

There was something sweet in the air.

The air around me seemed thinner. I looked around, quickly, but all I saw were masks. Even if they didn’t have them on, their faces were starting to blur in my mind.

But that too-sweet scent would never.

It was the man from Kean’s.

I inhaled again, but it was gone, carried away and overpowered by Dior perfume and Gucci cologne. Were they here? Were they watching me? Were they waiting to get me alone?

They’d done it before. Maybe it’d be easier this time...

My mind went to horrible places, and suddenly I was running against the sea.

I scanned as I ran, but it was futile. I burst through the kitchen doors and froze. There, Mary Styles was heaving over the trashcan spitting out strands of pesto pasta.

She looked up at me with the emptiest eyes I’d seen.

“I’m-I’m sorry.” I bumped into the counter, stumbling out the way I came. Her glossy eyes were haunting. Had I just seen Mrs. Styles eject the contents of her stomach?

Alone, I shook it off, trying to calm my breathing. They couldn’t do anything to me here. Hell, Mrs. Styles was on the other side of the door. I would scream. People would hear me.

“Hey, you okay?”

And even though I recognized the voice, when his hands were placed on my shoulders I flinched.

“I smelled them,” I said, looking over my shoulder to the kitchen.

“Who?” Harry’s eyes followed my gaze. He took a step toward the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t,” I said.

He stopped, confused. “I mean, you can, but I think your mom is sick,” I continued.

My tone wasn’t convincing. He bit his cheek. “Right.”

And even though we both knew that his mom didn’t have food poisoning, that was a conversation for another time.

“They’re here, Harry.”

“What are you talking about?” He paused. His eyes saw the panic in mine and he swallowed, hard.

“They can’t be. There’s security.”

“I walked through the door, no one searched me or checked my name off a list.”

“You’re a girl, it’s different. The security has a list of faces to watch out for, and trust me, they’d stand out.”

“No- Harry,” I stammered. He wasn’t get it. “Their cologne. I haven’t smelled it since Kean’s.” The name tasted bitter on my tongue. “I was there- and your mom was talking and I was following these people but I smelled them. And it was so crowded so I ran and she was in the kitchen, and I don’t- I don’t know how, but they’re here. I didn’t imagine that. And no one else would be wearing that. No one else could smell like that.”

I gasped for air, not realizing that I was on the verge of sobbing until Harry’s arms came around me.

“Hey,” he soothed. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

I let him hold me, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Their living area was too empty now. Too quiet. And even in his arms, even knowing what he’d done to them before, I didn’t feel safe. What was the point of having a massive castle if you couldn’t defend it? Your wealth just made you a sitting duck. A giant target.

“Why would they be here?” I asked.

“They wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here,” he reassured me.

“You probably think I’m crazy.”

“No, don’t do that to yourself.” He pulled back just enough. “You’re not crazy.”

And with no one to see, he took my hand, leading me past the foundation room. A part of me actually wanted to see the auction, but my mounting paranoia was stronger. We passed by the bar on the way to his room. It’d been empty for my last visit, but now the caterers were taking full advantage of its liquor storage capacity.

“Let’s see,” his voice drawled as his fingers shifted through the bottles. He didn’t ask before pouring us two cocktails.

“After you,” he said, nodding towards his room. By the time I’d sat down at the foot of his bed, he shut the door behind us with both drinks, and the vodka handle in the crook of his arm.

“Is the foundation for your sister? Jane?”

Harry avoided eye contact as he set the bottle down, pushing his hair back, brows raised.

“Uh, kind of. I never knew her.” He turned to me finally, shrugging with an apathy that had taken years to perfect. “I mean it’s sad, we don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Is it ever a good time?”

He looked at me, giving me the chance to take back what I did. I didn’t.

“She died before I was adopted.”

“Oh.” My stomach dropped. There was so much I didn’t know, but I hadn’t been expecting this. His eyes didn’t hold any sadness, but guilt still pricked my heart. “I’m sorry.”

He looked out the window again, distracted.

“Again, I didn’t know her. It’s sad, but I don’t…” -he tried to find the right words, loosened his tie- “It’s not my grief.”

I nodded; that made sense. It was his parents. The Styles. But the legacy of that pain couldn’t have had zero repercussions on their second child. There was more to the story than he was sharing, but I didn’t press. I walked closer, slowly toying with my drink.

“So you find it hard to miss something you never had,” I clarified.

He took a deep breath. “Cheers.” He raised his glass to me and I mimicked him, cringing at the stiff drink.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Warm.”

He nudged me, growing serious. “You know what I mean.”

How was I feeling? The inner me cleared her throat and yelled from a soap box.

Jealous.

Scared.

Confused.

ANNOYED at how many windows this house had. I looked at Harry’s dark mask, the swirling madness in his emerald, the way the suit fit snug against his toned body… we were very much alone.

Add turned on to my emotional cocktail.

“I’m feeling a lot.”

“Hm,” he hummed. “I’m feeling a lot too.” And it was so quiet. So bizarre to hear him say something even remotely close to feelings that I stood completely still. Was his drink as strong as mine?

Our eyes were locked, but he didn’t turn away. I fought every fiber in my screaming to break the intense spell.

He leaned in closer, tilted his head lower. Our noses brushed.

Panic.

“Are you and Viv…?”

“I’m not up here with her am I.”

Relief.

But I didn’t have the courage to say she’d probably been up here before.

“You know” - he pulled me closer, waists closing in - “I’m going to need a lot of help with that midterm,” he mumbled.

Elation.

An almost laugh that just lasted for a moment, because school seemed so trivial for what was happening in this house. There seemed to be split parts of me - the one I’ve always known and the one with him. Which one was more real to me now? I wasn’t sure if I was the same person that I once was - happy alone, solely immersed in school or netflix nights in. I’d been fine. I’d been safe. Maybe a little bored, but I hadn’t known there was more. With him there was a chaos that burned off his shoulders, that simmered in his eyes, and I drank in the warmth like a person frozen from snow.

His hands squeezed my sides, and my eyes fluttered closed. “How are you feeling now?”

“Good.”

He didn’t say anything more, but our breath was now in sync. It didn’t matter what he couldn’t say. What mattered was him, and the fact that when he looked at me, I felt everything he couldn’t say.

Eyes couldn’t lie. Not like that.

So I lifted my lips, and he went in for the kiss.

It was like I’d been starved of oxygen when his soft lips encompassed my own. Oh God, I’d missed this buzz. I’d missed him.

His hands cradled my face as he backed me up to the edge of the bed, lips never parting. A greedy hand shifted lower and he gripped the curve of backside. I whimpered a little, lips parting to allow his tongue to sneak in as he marked what I was so willing to give. He wasn’t pulling away this time. He wasn’t telling me no.

I sat at the edge of the bed where he’d placed us, and leant back, his body falling atop mine. His delicious weight pinned me down, and he kissed down my neck, nibbling, biting. With a particularly hard suck, I moaned and when I looked down I saw him paused, hooded eyes looking up at me from the sound. His hands travelled down, slowly, from my waist to the ends of my dress. He was heavy but not crushing, deliberate but with respect. He waited for an answer.

I nodded.

He bit his lip in a smirk as he hitched up my dress. One hand clutching the soft skin of my hips, as the other supported him above me, Harry rolled his hips against me.

Oh.

Against the thin fabric of my underwear, I felt him harden between my folds. Gentle kisses were peppered along my chest and I pulled him closer.

“Harry,” I whispered, lifting my hips against his. He groaned into my ear, a playful bite at the lobe.

I shivered the same time his fingers travelled lower against my stomach. He stopped at the band of underwear, my breath catching when he cupped my sex.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, hummed, as his hand slowly rubbed against me. I could feel him watch me intently, but mostly I could feel him. Up, down, up... the friction against my bundle of nerves made my lips part. Again, and again, my breathing deepened and soon I was rutting against his hand. The damp patch he created was evident as he took several fingers and ran them against it. He applied pressure at my center and I wanted him to do more.

He kissed my neck and a “please” stumbled out of my mouth. He smiled, letting out a small breath. He kissed my lips as his fingers pulled aside the lace. The cutest gesture of reassurance when there was nothing to reassure.

I’d dreamt about this too many times for me to back out. This time I wouldn’t shy away. I took his bottom lip between mine. Go.

But a glass shattering scream carried up the stairs.

The commotion from downstairs grew louder, and I didn’t need to say anything.

I’d already known.

His hand retracted, and as quickly as it started, he’d rolled off to his side, my comforting weight gone.

“What the fuck,” he muttered. He stood dead still at the edge of the bed but when he heard someone coming up the stairs, he lunged for the dresser, reached for the top drawer -

From outside, “Harry! Harry, are you up here?”

The door flew open.

His arm fell to his side.

Gemma stood at the doorway, slightly out of breath.

“You need to come downstairs. Now.”

I pulled my dress down, but Gemma wasn’t paying attention to me. There was a wild look in her eye only Harry could understand.

He didn’t look back to me as he barrelled past her, she followed suit. I sat at the edge of the bed; alone, dishevelled, disoriented. I was scared to follow.

Everything could change in a moment.

There were footsteps at the door again and I looked up just in time to see Harry striding across the floor to me.

“What are you-”

His lips crashed into mine, and my breath was suspended again. There was an urgency in the kiss that hadn’t been there before. Deep, hard, a hand tangled in my hair when another hitched up my skirt. His fingers swiped at my entrance once and before I could kiss him back he pulled away.

He let out an exasperated breath, and leant his forehead against mine.

“I have to take care of this.”

Unflinching, he drew the fingers that’d just pressed against my center up to his parted lips before swiping them against my own.

He stood tall as he walked away, broad shoulders subtly moving beneath the suit as he drew a key from his pocket and closed the door behind him.

There was no way in hell I was staying here.

I shot up, running to the door - but it was locked. I pounded against it.

“Harry? Harry let me out this isn’t funny!”

I jiggled the handle again. Nothing.

I wanted to scream, debated about screaming as I paced around the room. My eyes went to the top drawer of his dresser. I stopped. He’d reached for something there.

When I pulled it open it was just some old band t-shirts, but my hand hit something in the back. Pushing aside the shirts was a black box.

I quickly undid the clasp.

A black handgun.

I shoved the box to the back as quickly as I’d opened it.

Fuck no.

Frickity fracking fuck no.

He’d been reaching for a gun.

What kind of threats was he used to that he needed a gun?

I took a bobby pin from my hair, and with an expert skill that only growing up with a sibling could teach you, the lock was picked.

It took me at least five minutes, but the door opened. I booked it downstairs, a flounder of red dress heading into a quiet commotion.

I didn't see him when I made it down the stairs. There were too many confused bystanders huddled around their phones and switching social circles, whispering frantically about the scene before them.

I didn’t need to see anything in the crowd. For up on the wall, between collectors’ paintings was a vacant space.

The family portrait was gone.

And in its place was a snake that matched the one I’d seen tattooed on skin, the same snake that had been wrapped around my neck.

part 14

#posted a day after april 13 coiNCIDENCE I THINK NOT #harry styles #frat boy #Harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #fratboy!harry #one direction #onedirection #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #fratboy! harry #1direction #one direction imagine #one direction one shot #harry styles preference #harry styles blurb #harry fic

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thisweekingundamwing · 4 years

Text

This Week in Gundam Wing 22-28 March 2020

Here’s this week’s roundup!

Remember to give your content creators some love! And join in on the events at the bottom!

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

Every Moment (Ch. 2) https://archiveofourown.org/works/23153275/chapters/55699822#workskin

F/M, Heero Yuy/Reader

Heero Yuy, Reader, Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, OC - Character, Lady Une, Relena Peacecraft

Romance, Drama, Angst, Lemon, Lime, Violence, Reader Insert

You really didn’t want to go on a mission with Heero Yuy. In your opinion, he was a robot, an iceberg, and as cold as the North Pole. And you really hated the fact that people started spreading rumors about you. Now, you have two weeks to get to know him better, get comfortable with the idea of playing his wife, and keep from getting into a catfight with Wufei’s secretary (who has quite a crush on Mister Yuy herself). You thought you would be able to handle the mission, but a couple of alcohol influenced kisses really send your world spinning. And it would only get worse during the mission… And really… your careless actions do have very big consequences.

The trouble of being Daddy’s little girl https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267698

F/M, reader/oc

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Reader, OC - Character

Family, Humor, Daddy Heero

You took another deep breath and pushed away from the house, starting on your track across the lawn. You had not even made it halfway across the grass when an unexpected voice made you jump in fright.

“Going somewhere?”

It’s not easy being the daughter of an ex-Gundam pilot.

All because of you https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279989

F/M, Duo/Reader

Duo Maxwell, Reader

Romance, Fluff, a bit of angst, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert

He would never lie to you about his feelings. Hide them, yes. But if he told you he was okay, you had no choice but to believe him. But even so…

“I can’t help but be worried.”

Forgive and Forget (Ch. 5) https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997162/chapters/55878703

F/M, Duo Maxwell/Reader, Wufei Chang/OC - Relationship

Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, Chang Wufei, Sally Po, OC - Character

Romance, Drama, Angst, Violence, Lemon, Reader-Insert

You’d infiltrate Preventer and expose that fact that it employed and protected terrorists. But that mission proves to be quite a challenge, all information regarding personnel carefully guarded. And the challenge becomes even greater when you meet Special Agent Duo Maxwell. He is pretty much the man of your dreams, all devilish charm, good looks, and bravado. And he kisses like the Devil. You are swept under and recklessly pursue and affair with him. But there is still your double agenda, and that is bound to make everything come crashing down around you. Especially when you find out that Duo is not exactly the man he said he was…

@doctormegalomania

Your Body’s Poetry (Ch. 11) http://archiveofourown.org/works/20438891/chapters/55895791

F/F, F/M, M/M, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei/Original Female Character(s), Duo Maxwell/Hilde Schbeiker, Relena Peacecraft & Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell/Original Male Character(s)

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei, Sally Po, Relena Peacecraft, Lucrezia Noin, Zechs Merquise, Hilde Schbeiker

Past Relationship(s), Slice of Life, Post-Break Up, Slow Burn, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence

Two steps forward, one step back ... it's all a dance really.

@tziganecaffiends

The More Things Change https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331301

F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Zechs Merquise/Heero Yuy, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada, Dorothy Catalonia/Relena Peacecraft, Dorothy Catalonia/Relena Peacecraft/Quatre Raberba Winner

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei, Relena Peacecraft, Dorothy Catalonia, Zechs Merquise, Treize Khushrenada

Wufei is WHAT!? Productions, Fluff and Humor, all grown up, Heero Yuy and Chang Wufei Are Best Friends, Duo Maxwell is Chaos Personified, Asexual Trowa Barton, Ladies' Man Quatre Raberba Winner, Quatre Is Dating The Entire Senior Cheer Squad, Relena Peacecraft and Dorothy Catalona Are Dating One Another, Treize Khushrenada's Dream of Being An Interior Designer Came True, Yoiko Says There's Too Much Baseball, Tzigane Says There's No Such Thing As Too Much Baseball, Pool Party, Duo Maxwell Is A Flirt, But Only If He's Sure You Won't Take It Seriously, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, water wars, Super Soaker, Wishes Is A Good Dog, Duo’s Bathing Suit Wins

Thomas Wolfe had said, "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood, back home to romantic love, back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame."

Of course, he had also said quite a bit more after that. Treize Khushrenada felt that was enough to express adequately the absolute truth of things -- it really was impossible to go home again because time passed and everything changed. Nothing was ever as it was, and it had been so long since he'd had the opportunity to visit his mother that everything was different. The gas store on the corner had turned into a coffee shop. The local grocer's had disappeared altogether, leaving behind a parking lot for a chain store and just a touch of melancholy mixed in with Treize’s sense of nostalgia.

Fanart/Gunpla/Photo Manips:

@2pcb

https://2pcb.tumblr.com/post/613902027089641472/while-i-didnt-have-a-particular-intent-with-how-i

Heero Yuy

https://2pcb.tumblr.com/post/613539351155163136/oh-man-its-been-like-twenty-years-since-i-first

Trowa Barton

https://2pcb.tumblr.com/post/613627505601036288/i-am-super-obsessed-with-wufei-growing-up-and

WuFei & Trowa

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/613873841214750720/zhang-he-altron-gundam-gunpla-gunplabuilder

Zhang He Altron, gunpla

Puck (dragonhusbands)

https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1170544

Duo & WuFei

@seitou

https://seitou.tumblr.com/post/613595791444082688/seitou-practicing-some-inking-with-an-under

WuFei & Trowa

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@janaverse

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/613663851316215808/o-dont-over-do-it-like-hes

Duo Maxwell, screenshot

Fandom Discourse:

@memoriesofgundamwing

https://memoriesofgundamwing.tumblr.com/post/613269756769861632/in-honor-of-gundam-wings-25th-birthday-i-want-to

A place to store our favorite GW memories.

https://memoriesofgundamwing.tumblr.com/post/613307205592186880/gundam-wing-was-the-very-first-anime-i-ever

@empressgreyofphoenix

https://memoriesofgundamwing.tumblr.com/post/613309711873441792

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://memoriesofgundamwing.tumblr.com/post/613541191219331072/gundam-wing-the-past-the-present

@tziganecaffiends

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/613678300500475904/hilde-i-remember-the-selling-their-kid-on-ebay

Hilde

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/613780235842912256/duo-what-are-you-doing-on-my-doorstep-at-2-am

Duo & Heero

MoodBoard/Aesthetics/Playlists:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/613453474860089344/just-letting-you-all-know-that-this-is-out-there

Some two-mix songs (Rhythm Emotion, Just Communication)

Calendar Events:

@gundamzine

Rhythm Generation: Shooting Stars, Celebrating 25 Years of Gundam Wing

Be sure to not miss any updates or Creator Spotlights by following @gundamzine

Be sure to reserve your copy of the Zine as well as Zine MERCH by completing the sign-up form, here

All zines and zine swag are FREE, but the Zine Crew encourages everyone who is able to donate to one of the branches of their chosen charity, WAR CHILD

Also be sure to submit your response to the (totally anonymous) Fandom Metrics Survey the Zine Crew is running, here

Reopening orders until April 5th! https://gundamzine.tumblr.com/post/612534501362565120/gundamzine-back-by-popular-demand-we-are

https://gundamzine.tumblr.com/post/613893449254584320/a-preview-of-some-of-the-awesome-work-by-our

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, April 3rd! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/613840617413443584/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-april-3

If anyone has ideas for prompts, PLEASE send them in! Our ask box is always open.

In need of SUMMER prompts!

#Gundam Wing #This week in Gundam Wing #Weekly Roundup #22-28 March 2020

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

Text

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 14)

He has yelled at her before, belittled her, and called her names. But he has never slapped her before. She is lucky that he had the sense to slap her arm instead of her face, she hates to imagine the damage he’d have done to her still healing chin.

“You can walk to school today.” Ozai declares loud enough for even Zuko to flinch.

“I’ll be late.”

“Then you better hurry.”

And that is just the punishment for losing the election. But he isn’t done with her. He expects her to be at school on time but he won’t let her leave. “And just where the hell were you last night!?”

“I decided to go to the park and look at the stars longer, I fell asleep.” She lies. She is already in deep, the least she can do is try to dig herself out. “The school is offering a trip to NIR&Ex, I wanted to show that I should be the one to go.”

“I can pay them to let you go.”

“I want to know that I earned it. That I’m good enough. I want my skills to get me in...” She just wants to be good enough for someone. Anyone.

“What skills?” Ozai scowls. “Look at this.” He holds up a copy of her report card. Mostly A’s save for a B in geometry. He shoves the offending paper at her and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just get your ass to school and try to learn something this time.

“Yes, father.”

She doesn’t have time to eat breakfast nor pack lunch. She tries to text TyLee and Chan for a ride. They are still pissed. She would try Jet but he takes the bus and Yue lives on the other side of town.

At least it is sunny. Chilly but sunny.

.oOo.

This time around, Azula doesn’t really try to talk to anyone. She isn’t in the mood for conversation. She has to focus on her academics anyhow. Lunch is every bit as awful as she expects. Nothing on the school lunch menu appeals to her; it is all ridiculously greasy and smells as though they have been reheating the same meals for weeks now. Not that it matters, between her nerves and the hollow ache in her chest, she doesn’t have much of an appetite anyways.

Having no tray to hold, Azula leans herself up against a wall and stares at her feet. She stuffs her hands into her pockets. Every now and again, she catches one of her former tablemates staring. TyLee’s are always of the sympathetic variety, while Chan’s are vicious and cutting. Yue’s are judgmental.

Somehow none of them matter.

“Hey.”

Azula looks up.

“Do you want to sit with us?” Katara asks.

Azula looks from her old table to Katara’s and then back down at her feet. The wall seems to hold her in place for a time but she pushes herself away from it and slumps quietly into the spot Katara has opened for her.

“Are you okay?” Suki asks.

But she still isn’t up for conversation.

“Do you want some of my food or something?” Toph motions to her tray of chicken nuggets. Azula has a feeling that if she were to squeeze one of them, she would create a puddle of grease. She shakes her head, no.

It takes several more attempts at conversation for them to realize that she doesn’t have the energy to partake. The bell rings and Katara leaves her with some final words, “you can sit here tomorrow if you want.”

She supposes that she should at least have the decency to respond to that. “Okay.”

Katara offers a faint, sad smile. Azula gathers her things and heads for the door.

“Hanging with the nerds now?” Jet asks.

Azula shrugs.

“You just got your face all fixed up, why waste it on those freaks?”

Another shrug.

If father isn’t happy with her then it has all been for nothing anyways.

.oOo.

His fury takes on many forms. The newest of them is a declaration. “I have decided to reschedule your appointment. You will have your final procedure done this weekend.”

Azula snaps into attention, her pencil falls from between her fingers. “Wh-what?”

“This weekend. I’m getting tired of looking at those puffy cheeks.”

They flush. “But I’m still recovering from…”

Ozai rolls his eyes. “Don’t start acting like your brother. This weekend, bring something to keep you entertained.”

“Yes, father.”

He leaves the room and befalls a weighty silence. Azula looks at her essay assignment. The paper is spotted with two small wet splotches. She pushes the notebook aside and eyes the table.

She is just about as ready for her final surgery as she had been for the first one.

She pushes her chair in and makes her way to her bedroom. She lays there staring at the wall as hours slip by. She lays there until a knock sounds on her door. It is too light to be Ozai’s. Ever rude in mannerism, Zuko invites himself in when she doesn’t respond to his rapping.

“I don’t think that you should get that surgery so soon after the last one.”

“I don’t think that I should get it at all.” She says softly. Far too late, she decides that she misses her old face. Even if it had been softer and less aesthetically pleasing. She misses feeling genuine. More painfully, it strikes her that if she had just waited, maybe later teenhood and adulthood would have naturally sharpened her features. “It was a mistake.”

Zuko visibly cringes.

Azula pulls herself upright, her hair falling in long tangles over her shoulders. “I’m tired, Zuzu.”

“Yeah, father is draining to be around.” Zuko rubs the back of his head.

“Well, it’s your turn to be the golden child.”

Zuko sniffs, “yeah right, he just hates both of us now.”

“I guess that he’ll calm down after I get the surgery.”

Zuko cringes again.

“I really don’t think that you should.”

“That’s not up to you, Zuzu.” She isn’t sure that it is up to her either.

.oOo.

The rest of the week seems to blend and blur to the point where each day seems to blend into the next. A blurb of learning and tactless comments from her former friends. Perhaps an occasional sympathetic stare from TyLee. The monotony of it all is only broken by a heated phone argument that is taken on a friday afternoon.

He has her on speaker so Azula can hear every word.

“You made her get what!?” It is a voice that she hasn’t heard in ages. A voice that used to sing she and Zuko nursery rhymes before bed.

“She’s going to be better off for it.” Ozai insists.

“She’s still growing!” Ursa exclaims, confirming what Azula had finally come to realize. “Her face hasn’t fully developed yet and you’re already changing it?”

“Did she tell you about this?” Ozai growls.

“No!” With the same lateness Azula had, Ursa realizes exactly who she has thrown under the bus.

“That boy should mind his own business.”

Azula supposes that it is nice to know that someone is trying to get her out of tomorrow’s surgery. Not that the attempt will amount to anything. Perhaps it is unhealthy, but she spends the rest of the evening staring at the remaining portion of her face that is actually hers. She wakes up the next morning still seated in front of her vanity set.

There is one message on her phone, a simple good morning. She has almost forgotten that she had given her number to Katara. It is such a small little thing but it makes her smile. Only for a flicker before Ozai demands her to join him for breakfast. A stiff and tense breakfast where he tries to talk to her as though he hadn’t slapped her. As though he isn’t about to make her alter the last aspect of her face that is truly hers.

“I am proud of you.”

Her heart swells. She knows that it is a game but it is so nice to hear.

“For what?”

“For getting all of the surgeries without protest. We’re just going to have to worry about that math grade…”

She lets him ramble on, simply nodding along.

.oOo.

“Dr. Koh will see you now.”

Azula shoots Ozai a wide-eyed look. “Where is Dr. Guhira?”

“I forgot to tell you, Dr. Guhira refused to do the surgery so soon after your last one. He also said something about having a feeling that you didn’t really want the surgeries. So I found a doctor who is willing.”

“If I’m doing this, I want Dr. Guhira to perform the operation.”

Ozai rubs his forehead. “We are already here, you are getting the surgery. Unless you’d like a repeat of Wednesday night.”

Azula’s head spins as she peels herself off of the chair. She feels as though she is performing some sort of funeral march as she shakily makes her way towards the waiting nurse. The operating room seems to take on an icier air as she waits to meet Dr. Koh.

“Good morning, Ms. Kasai.” Dr. Koh holds out a hand. He is a tall man, an almost creepy fellow. Almost. He has a face that makes her skin crawl. His features are exaggerated. Doll-like. He is more plastic than flesh. She shudders as she takes his hand.

He flips through pages on a clipboard. “Lets get started, shall we?” He slips the anesthetic mask over her face.

“Aren’t you supposed to outline first?”

“I know how to do my job, Ms. Kasai.”

In the pit of her stomach, Azula doubts that. “Dr. Guhira always outlined where he was going to…”

“I have done this enough times, I don’t need to outline.”

Azula swallows as the hiss of gas fills her ears. The anesthesia puts a halt to any further protests. She dreads what she will awaken to.

.oOo.

She expects to wake to a sharp shooting pain, instead she finds complete numbness that Koh insists is normal. She believes him but only to an extent. She grips her father’s hand with a force that makes him wince.

“Your face will remain swollen for about two weeks…” by now she knows the drill. Liquid diet, coming in for bandage changes, and only light exercises. Over excursion won’t be a problem she feels much too nauseous and lethargic to do anything but drag herself to bed and elevate her head.

Ozai allows her another week off. She is surrounded in shiny things; new necklaces and rings, a new purse, and a new music player. A new dress hangs in her closet over a pair of shoes that match the dress Ozai hadn’t allowed her to wear to homecoming. It is all lovely but it does little to remedy her anxiety.

Anxiety that does a good job of masking the first sign that something isn’t right. She is sweating profusely and still feels terribly queasy. She doesn’t have the energy to return any of her missed calls and text messages.

Most of them are from Katara, she decides that she will respond to her first whenever she finds the motivation. The messages range from simple greetings and words of encouragement to light hearted pictures she’d found somewhere on the web before they turned to expressions of concern.

Apparently, a week with no word from her has also been enough to get Chan’s attention.

Distantly, in her mind, she knows that she should be elated at the chance to make amends with him but she doesn’t feel like picking up her phone. Every time she shifts, a throbbing sensation bombards her head.

“How are you feeling?” Ozai asks. He sets a bowl of oatmeal on her nightstand. It is the second sign that something is amiss. Typically he sends one of the maids to serve her.

“It still hurts.” An understatement.

She is in unbearable pain.

It aches something sharp as though the scalpel is still embedded under her flesh, or perhaps, a feeling that her own bones are penetrating her skin. Had Koh removed too much fat and tissue. This, of course, is applicable to only the left side of her face. The right side lacks sensation entirely. He had said that the numbness would clear but she is still waiting.

“I can’t feel…” She motions to her right cheek.

“It has only been a few days, Azula.” Ozai cuts in. “Wait for the swelling fade before assuming that something is wrong.”

“Something is wrong.” Azula insists. “Call Dr. Guhira, he’ll tell you.” She doesn’t even put in an effort to keep the tremble out of her voice. “Something is wrong.” She repeats softly.

Ozai takes her hand, “I know that these operations have been stressful, but this is your last one and you will be thankful when the swelling is all gone and you see how beautiful you are.”

“Because I wasn’t before?”

Perhaps she is only seeing what she wants to see, but she can swear that something flickers in his eyes; regret? Sympathy? Pity? Doubt? She isn’t sure, but she doesn’t like it. She likes it just as little as she likes her new face.

#Avatar #Azula #Zuko #Katara #Mai #TyLee #Sokka #Toph #Suki #Aang #Fanfiction

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