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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

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In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day.

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. ��Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.”

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

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

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are.

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

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

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

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five-rivers · 3 years

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Changeling Chapter 1

A DP Fae Au fic. I've been promising you this for so long XD. I can hardly believe I'm finally delivering, even if it's only one chapter for now.

Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was an Offer

They studied legends. According to those legends, today, Beltane, was a time of renewal, of birth, of fertility.

It was not supposed to be… this. Their dreams weren’t supposed to be crushed today. Not under this sun, not under these blue skies and among softly blooming flowers.

This kind of news should have come with rain. It should have come with storms.

Maddie wiped tears out of her eyes and Jack patted her on the back. The air smelled sweet and dusty at the same time. The bench was uncomfortable.

“We could try adoption,” said Jack. He sounded shocked, too. Drained. His voice was pulled taught over a great hollowness. “Lots of people adopt. We can- can do some good in the world, maybe.”

Maddie sniffed and cried harder. She’d wanted her own children, and Jack knew it. Adoption was all very well and good, but at this point the suggestion felt like some consolation prize, and she felt terrible for even thinking it was, because Jack was right, it could be a good thing, and…

She wanted children. Her own children.

“Excuse me, I believe I can help.”

There was something about how he said that, about how the voice wound and slipped through her ears that had Maddie’s head snapping up. The man who stood to the side of the bench wore a long coat with a deep hood. Symbols, symbols that Maddie had spent hours, days, weeks, researching were stitched into the fabric. His eyes glittered in the shadows. The fingers of his hands, clasped in front of him, were too long, their coloring faintly lavender, as if they had been dipped in ink and retained the stain even after they’d been washed clean.

This was not a human.

“How?” asked Maddie, feeling hope drip back into her limbs even as Jack tensed behind her. “How can you help?”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Jack as they drove home. “We really shouldn’t have done that. Maddie, they’re evil, there’s always a catch and it’ll always be looking for a way to push us into it.”

“The catch is in the open,” said Maddie, leaning back against the seat of the car and closing her eyes. “It isn’t as if it’s in the fine print and we’re going to stumble into it. We have one, and then I get my tubes tied, or you get snipped, and we go on with our lives.”

“What if we have twins? Triplets? Maddie, we should have talked about this.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Maddie said defensively. “I had to decide right away.”

“What are we going to do if we have twins, Maddie?”

Maddie bit her lip, her eyes opening without her full permission as she thought. “We know how to deal with things like him.”

The car jerked just a little to the right as Jack failed to suppress his flinch. “Do you remember our work on motivations? On why they take artists, musicians, children?” he asked. He forged on without waiting for an answer. “Creative sterility, we called it. For this one to be able to cure sterility, he has to be powerful. I don’t think nails in pockets and inside-out clothing is going to stop him.”

Such protections were hit and miss to begin with. One faerie might hate bread, another might love it. The sound of bells would drive off one, and another would wear them in their hair. Even cold iron was no guarantee against them.

“We’ll have to find something better, then,” she said, firmly.

Maddie laughed. Not a twin. A single child showed on the ultrasound monitor. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. Perfect.

On the other side of the bed, Jack sunk into a chair, obviously relieved. “She’s healthy?” he asked the OB/GYN.

“Completely,” she said. “This is quite the miracle the two of you put together here.” She shook her head. “We must have gotten something wrong during our examination. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am to have put you through all that, and I won’t blame you if you wanted to find a new doctor.”

“It’s fine,” said Maddie, patting the woman’s arm. “It happens.” Yes, being approached by a powerful fae just ‘happened.’ “The important thing now is to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

They made sure Jazz was born on a Sunday, with two middle names, one of which Maddie made sure to forget. They scheduled her baptism for as early a date as possible, even though both Jack and Maddie were as lapsed as it was possible to be.

Precautions.

Jack had his surgery only a month later.

They were safe. They had won.

The family of three snuggled together on the couch. Well, Jazz snuggled inasmuch as a newborn was able. They watched TV.

“Jack, dear,” said Maddie, roused to awareness by a news story about a rising young businessman. “Is that our Vlad?”

Jack blinked at the screen. “I think you’re right,” said Jack. “I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t think we’ve talked to him since college.” He frowned. “Did something happen? The three of us used to be so close… He was the only one in the whole folklore department that would put up with our theories, do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, trying to remember. “It was like he was there one day, gone the next.”

“Do you think he’ll mind us getting back in touch?”

“Only one way to find out.”

(As it turned out, Vlad did not particularly care to get back in touch.)

Jazz was not a normal child.

She saw too much. She understood too much. Her teeth grew in early. She learned how to get the milk out of the fridge at about the same time she learned how to walk. Her eyes were too large, even for her age. She didn’t start talking until she was almost two, and when she did, it was in complete sentences. She took to responsibility like a duck to water. No, she demanded responsibility, from waking up the family in the morning to answering the door. She loved rules and games, and the rules of games.

But they had never raised a child before. Perhaps this was simply how they were. Perhaps this was within the expected variety of humanity.

Most importantly, Jazz was theirs. Completely.

Maddie was not terribly concerned when her period missed a few days, or even when it was late by a week. But when it started pushing two…

She bought a test.

It came back positive.

Danny’s birth was different from Jazz’s in almost every particular. Instead of being infused with a sense of joy, proceedings were overshadowed by dread. Jazz had been born in a hospital. Danny would be born at home, behind every ward and protection Jack and Maddie could conceive of. The midwife they hired was more than used to odd belief systems and threw a few of her own traditions in as well.

It couldn’t hurt.

It didn’t help.

After the birth, Maddie held Danny in her arms. He’d been born in a caul, which had been slightly alarming, even though Maddie had known that it was a thing that happened regularly, and that, by most accounts, it was lucky.

He was such a tiny little thing. Smaller than Jazz. Which made sense, he was a little premature.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, whispering into the silky, wispy curls on top of his head.

Someone knocked on the door. Maddie jerked her head up, even though the front door wasn’t at all visible from the basement. Jack flinched hard enough to drop the towels he was holding. The midwife froze.

“Hospitality,” croaked Maddie. Those rules were always humanity’s first defense against the uncanny. Don’t want something in your house? In your life? Don’t invite it in.

Although, she had arguably already invited in the fae they were worried about. Hence all the other contingencies.

The knock came again. And again, louder.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. “It can’t get in,” he murmured. Then he smiled, broad and bright. “We just have to wait it out.”

Maddie nodded, tears in her eyes. The knocking continued. This was far from ideal, obviously, but she’d been half expecting the fae to simply rip through the wards like tissue paper.

Perhaps the theory that more powerful fae were more bound by custom, more vulnerable to their weaknesses, held water? She and Jack had always dismissed it as fanciful, but they’d never been able to gather evidence before.

Then, a sound that made her heart stop.

“I’ll get it!” called Jazz, childish voice muffled by distance and the obstacle of the floors above. She’d been told not to answer the door when Danny was being born, to wait patiently in her room, but for all her unusual maturity, she was only three.

Faster than she’d ever seen him move, Jack bolted for the stairs, pushing aside several pieces of furniture and medical equipment in his haste. He took the stairs four at a time and nearly taking the door off the hinges.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Who are you, mister?”

“Me?” said a voice Maddie had prayed against ever hearing again. “I am your uncle, my dear. Did your parents not tell you about me?”

Jazz tipped her head to one side and stared up at the man, making her eyes extra big. She knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable when she looked at them like that, so she treated it as a kind of test.

The man smiled, kind and patient. He was kind of funny looking, but in a good way.

“No,” she said finally. “Are you Mommy’s brother or Daddy’s brother?”

“Ah, you already know about uncles, then. I was worried I’d have to explain. May I come in? I would like to greet your little brother, as your parents promised I could. I have gifts for both of you.”

Jazz liked gifts. “Okay,” she said. “But I dunno if Danny’s been born yet. Mommy said it can take a while. And I dunno if he can have gifts, yet. He’s gonna be really little. That’s what all my books say, and also the internet.”

“Jazz! Don’t!”

Jazz turned to see her Daddy skid around the corner, just as her uncle stepped across the threshold.

“Not quite on time, I fear,” said uncle. “Young Jazz has already let me in.” He patted Jazz on the head. She ducked away and stuck her tongue out, like she always did when Daddy did that. “Having greeted my niece, I would like to see my nephew.”

The fae did walk past the rest of the wards as if they weren’t even there. It didn’t even break them, just ignored them. Some of them he even commented on, as if approving.

He gazed down at Danny with his otherworldly eyes. The midwife had retreated to the corner of the room, refusing to look at what was happening. Jack had attempted to attack the fae with his bare hands, only to be pushed away with something approaching gentleness by an invisible wall. Maddie didn’t know where Jazz was. Upstairs, somewhere, hopefully.

“So beautiful,” the fae said, brushing Danny’s forehead with his off-color fingers. Faster than Maddie could react, he had a pair of scissors in his hand and was cutting off a lock of hair. “A lovely child.” The lock of Danny’s hair disappeared into the fae’s coat.

If Maddie didn’t know better, she’d call the expression on the fae’s face love. But she did know better. Love was as incomprehensible to the fae as fae laws were to humans, so she’d call it by its true name: avarice.

She tightened her grip on Danny, as if she could keep the fae from plucking him from her arms.

“Not now,” said the fae, after another moment. “Soon, I should think.” It ran a hand over Danny’s head. “Soon.” The fae looked up, meeting Maddie’s eyes. “I will return,” he said, “in one year.”

“For what?” demanded Maddie, unwilling to get her hopes up.

The fae blinked slowly. “For his birthday.” He tilted his head. “To determine whether or not he is ready. Perhaps, also, to visit my niece.”

“You stay away from Jazz!” snarled Maddie. “You have no claim on her.”

The fae merely shrugged, then smiled, slyly. “She does, however, have a claim on me. I promised her gifts, before your husband whisked her away.”

“Gifts,” repeated Maddie, hoarsely.

“For the sister of my child, yes,” said the fae, voice and face as calm and even as ever. “Would you ask me to forswear myself?”

“Then,” said Maddie, “you can leave them here, with us.”

“You will give them to her?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, through her teeth. She did not say how long she would let Jazz be in the presence of these ‘gifts.’

“Very well, then,” said the fae, pulling a number of boxes out from beneath his coat. “One year. Be prepared.”

And, with that, the fae faded from view, as if he had been an illusion all along.

Danny was still with them. Their son was still with them. Still theirs.

“One year,” she said, breathless. “Only one year.”

“One whole year,” corrected Jack, rushing to her side. “You’ll see, Maddie. Next time, that fae won’t know what hit him!”

“One whole year,” echoed Maddie, weakly.

“One year to prepare,” said Jack. “Look what we did with half that time! We’re Fentons! We can do it!”

“We can do it,” breathed Maddie. “One year. We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded, firmly. “We’ll be ready.”

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2021 #dannymay 2021 day 30: fantasy #fae au #changeling #dp fae au

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wonderwomanfantasy · 4 years

Text

missing peicies

sigh, you hurt me Anon

Bakugou x Reader

warnings: Angst, swearing,

words: 1,400 (about)

summary: you’ve been putting up with Katsuki for as long as you can remember, and you might just be at your wits end.

“You must have loved me a lot,” Katsuki said softly. You smiled tiredly at him. It seemed like all your smiles were tired these days.

I did, and I still do, you wanted to say, but you knew that would go over poorly. Katsuki still flinched at any outward signs of affection, it was only recently he started sharing the bed with you, although he wouldn’t hold you and if you reached for him in your sleep he would leave.

That’s where you were now, in bed together, your body curled in on its self squarely on your half of the mattress. It killed you that you could only look at the man who used to be your husband.

“What makes you say that?” you asked, matching his quiet volume.

“No one’s ever staid with me before,” he admitted. “I push people away, I’ve pushed you away and you’re still here.”

“of course,” you murmured. As if leaving was even an option for you. Katsuki was your whole world, you didn’t just give up on your whole world.

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be pissed if I walked away now,” you laughed and his mouth twitched up in a half-smile. He didn’t deny it. What little lightheartedness you had managed quickly vanished as a thick awkward silence set in. your heart lurched as you looked at him and you couldn’t help but wonder if things were reversed, would he still be here?

“Can I try something?” he asked.

“Sure,” you responded automatically. It was already late but if he wanted to do something come hell or high water you were going to see it done, anything to help.

Bakugou reached out slowly and cupped your face with his hand. You almost jumped feeling his warm callused hand touch you for the first time in weeks. He skimmed his thumb over your cheekbone and your breath caught in your throat.

You were going to cry if he kept this up, it has been so long since your husband had touched you. He pulled away and just like that your moment of bliss was gone.

“You must have loved me a lot,” he repeated, “and I must have loved you a lot too.”

Your house was littered with post-it notes. Little reminders for what Bakugou needed to do. How to put on his costume. Where you kept the cups and mugs. Not to leave the house without his keys.

The neon squares of paper littered every inch of your house but it didn’t bother you, much. Even if it was annoying to move the “turn the water cold or you’ll blow up the bathroom dumbass,” post-it every time you wanted a shower but he was your husband, how could you complain? You would do anything for Katsuki.

He always tried not to wake you when he left in the morning. And he always did. He wasn’t known for being stealthy and with his damaged hearing, even if he thought he was being quiet he usually wasn’t.

Your eyes fluttered open as you heard the door to the bathroom shut with a loud click. Katsuki was dressed for work and ready to leave.

“I’ll see you when you get home,” you croaked, your voice raspy from sleep. He jumped, surprised as he was every morning.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days dumbass,” he grumbled. Before adding affectionately, “I’ll see you when I get home, go back to sleep.”

You had been furious when the agency demanded that Bakugou come back to work. He wasn’t ready, you protested. He was still hurt and didn’t remember anything past his UA days, didn’t remember you. But he was fine physically and the world needed a hero like him. So he went back.

It was safe to say that this post-accident Katsuki wasn’t the Katsuki you married. In the begging, you were certain that he would get his memories back and everything would go back to normal. He wouldn’t flinch from your touch anymore and go back to wrapping you in tight bear hugs when he got home and pouncing on you pinning you to the bed just so he could hold you. You weren’t nearly as optimistic these days.

Even when he did remember things, it never made things better. He would just look at you for a couple of minutes while he tried to work things out. Then he would admit he remembered your first anniversary, but only bits and pieces. You could see how uncomfortable these memories made him. Like he felt guilty he couldn’t make you as happy as the old him did. Or, worse, guilty that he didn’t love you the way he used to.

You tried not to think like that, Even though this Katsuki was different, Much more reserved and stuck in his own head, He was nothing if not blunt and brash if he got sick of you he would tell you, and if he wanted you out of his house he’d kick you out without a second thought. Spouse or no Spouse.

So you put up with the awkward distance, and the sticky notes, and the staring, Because you still loved him, and even if you’d given up on the idea of things going back to normal, things could still get better. And you were willing to work for the better.

You cooked that night, even though your husband did come home early tonight as promised, he was far too tired to cook, and his head hurt, his head always hurt, so you shooed him into the bedroom promising to wake him when dinner was ready.

You’d been a terrible cook before you met Bakugou. You had just started dating when he found out you were living on ramen and hot pockets. He had found that unacceptable and taught you to cook.

“ Smells good,” Katsuki commented coming into the kitchen, scratching his stomach. You frowned.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” you accused pointing at him with your laddel.

“Don’t tell me what to do, I’ll sleep when I want to sleep,” he snapped. You could still see the lines from his pillow on his face. It must have been a really good nap. Katsuki brushed past you to the radio, flipping through his CDs before picking one and playing it. Of all things, soft piano music filled the kitchen.

You quirked an eyebrow up in a silent question. Katsuki plucked the ladle from your hands and put it to the side guiding your arms around his neck while his fell to your waist. He pulled you into the middle of the kitchen and started pulling you around in slow circles.

“I still don’t remember our wedding,” he admitted, “but when I went on patrol today we passed a dance studio and- well I dunno how it works but I remembered some shit.”

You just nodded, silently listening.

“I was a shitty dancer right up until our wedding, I knew I was going to make an ass out of myself during our first dance if I didn’t do something, so I got my ass in a ballroom dancing class. Just so I could impress ya, did you know that?”

You shook your head no. “I just assumed you were naturally good at it like everything else.” he gave a bark of laughter at that and danced with you late into the night.

Days like that made you hate yourself. You hated it when Bakugou really tried and when he was sweet and soft with you. It would be so much easier to fall out of love with him if he wasn’t trying to be good to you all the time.

It was just too much to put up with. It was killing you to be stressed out all day every day worried about your husband and trying to help him. You hated yourself for thinking of Katsuki as a burden. But you did. And you hated the little feeling of hope you got when it seemed like he wasn’t in love with you either. But you did.

It was horrible of you to think of divorcing him, especially when he needed you most, but you couldn’t take it anymore.

Was it too much to ask for a husband that loved you? And was it too much to say that the husband that did love you, died in that accident?

#katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia head cannon

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lunapwrites · 3 years

Text

Numb

(I am once again posting unedited nightmares to Tumblr.)

CW: strong language, violence, character death. The first thing Remus noticed was that the floor was cold. The texture rough against his stubbled cheek, scraping against his forearms as he slowly pushed himself up. He blinked blearily, eyes adjusting to the dim torchlight. Stone floors, stone walls, iron bars.

A cell.

His head was throbbing; there was dried blood in his hair. This time it might have been his own. He recalled bright lights, curses flying, sizzling past his ear. Red. Darkness.

A Stunner.

How did they find me?

He couldn't remember.

If he concentrated, he could hear breathing, other heartbeats. One, two, three... no, four. He scented the air; three male, one female. Human, goblin. Familiar — very familiar, though he was struggling to think beyond the pounding in his skull. He couldn't recall their faces.

Somewhere out of view, a door swung open: hinges creaking, wood groaning, scraping along the floor. A jangle of keys. This scent... (juniper berry and wood shavings and cheap dusty tea) this scent he knew.

rat rat rat

"Oh good, you're not dead," Peter said in a tone that might have sounded cheerful if not for the underlying tension of attempted murder and heart-wrenching betrayal.

"Sorry to disappoint," Remus replied. His voice was rougher than the stone he'd woken on and twice as cold. On the other side of the wall, two heartbeats quickened; a quiet intake of breath.

They know me.

"Ah, don't be like that, Moony. I've brought you supper."

"Think I'd rather starve, thanks."

Peter gave that snorty little laugh that Remus used to privately think was endearing and now just made him want to yank the bastard's brains out through his nostrils.

"Just as dramatic as ever, I see." He showed the plate to Remus. "It's just a bacon sarnie. Light on the butter and practically raw, just the way you like it."

It was the way he liked it, and Remus hated him for it.

"Why am I here?"

"Skipping right over the small talk, eh? That's not like you at all." Peter opened a small grate, pushing the plate through the bars. "Come on, Moony. You know why."

"Don't call me that."

If he hadn't been watching for it, he'd have missed the tiny flicker of hurt across Peter's face. The twitch of his brows, the near imperceptible thinning of his already too-thin lips. The shadows under his eyes darkening.

He looked terrible. He looked sorry. Remus hated him even more.

"Alright, Remus then. Or would you prefer Lupin?"

"I would prefer you didn't call me anything, honestly."

"Too bad," Peter said briskly. "I'm the jailor, so unless you just don't want to talk at all..."

"That would be lovely, actually."

"Liar." Peter grinned. "You love hearing yourself talk, always did. You were worse than James—"

The bars rattled as Remus slammed into them, fury bubbling in his veins. Peter leapt out of his reach, eyes wide, frightened as he'd been that night in the shack.

"DON'T!" Remus snarled, fangs bared. "Don't you ever speak his name!"

Peter stared at him, his hummingbird pulse slowly steadying as he remembered who was on which side of the bars. He put his hands up, placating.

"Alright, Remus. Fair enough. I'm sorry."

No you're not.

Peter hovered awkwardly for a moment, rocking on his heels like he had something more to say — like there was anything more to say. As if he had a right to be disappointed that Remus would sooner swallow his own tongue than accept anything he offered.

"Right. I'll leave you to it, then. Be back tomorrow."

Remus watched him slip out of the room in silence, the heavy door swinging shut, the lock turning with a dull click just as the plate shattered against the wall.

"Brought you some soup today," Peter said conversationally. "Figured you might need it after talking to Bellatrix."

He slipped the bowl through the grate; Remus didn't move from his spot against the opposite wall. Every one of his nerve endings was on fire, but he'd be damned before he'd show it.

"She really needs to work on her conversational skills," he croaked, and immediately regretted it. Peter's eyes sharpened, searching his face.

Nothing to see here. Not for you.

"She was always mad as a hatter before, but Azkaban really didn't do her any favours in that regard." Peter sighed, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. "Can't say I'm upset about getting out of that one."

It was in that moment that Remus decided that the Killing Curse was too good for Peter.

He hauled himself to his feet, trudging over to the front of the cell on shaky legs, leaning over carefully to pick up his supper.

"I see you remembered my favourite again." He sniffed at the bowl of soup suspiciously, checking for strange ingredients.

Potato. Leek. Broth... chicken I think. Cream. Bacon again, probably leftover.

"Figured a taste of home might not go amiss," Peter said quietly, frowning. "I haven't poisoned it, you know."

"I'm well aware that the only thing you poison is friendships," Remus agreed. "If you wanted to kill me, I should watch for a knife in my back."

"...That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

They stared one another down silently, Peter with his best rainy morning face on, Remus towering above him like a thundercloud. He slowly poured the soup out onto the floor, flinging the bowl back through the bars. Peter dodged at the last second; it bounced off the wall next to his ear and clattered harmlessly to the floor.

He'd learned his lesson since the plate, apparently.

"Right," Peter declared in an overly plummy tone as he pushed off the wall, "we'll just try again tomorrow, shan't we?"

The following day, Peter brought down bangers and mash; it was cold and grainy, and the bangers were burned to hell.

Remus ate it anyway.

"You know, as pleased as I am that you've stopped throwing tantrums over the food," Peter mused through a mouthful of toast, "I'm genuinely surprised you haven't asked me why I did it."

Remus paused, looking up from his plate through one, unswollen eye.

"Probably because it doesn't matter."

He spoke slowly, as if to a particularly dim child, as if he weren't lying through his teeth.

Peter scoffed, spots of colour rising to his cheeks.

"Please, like you didn't spend twelve years tearing yourself up over Sirius. Why should my reasons matter less?"

"I'll give you three guesses."

Peter wrinkled his nose, scowling.

"You always liked him best."

"Dunno what to tell you, Pete. He gives great head."

There was a muffled snort from the neighbouring cell. Dean, by the sound of it. A week ago, Remus might have even been embarrassed.

"Remus Lupin, unfiltered," Peter said with a wistful shake of his head. "I fucking missed you, you know."

"This is very good bread. Do give my compliments to whichever unfortunate elf was responsible for it."

"That would be me."

Remus snorted at him, raising his mug of water in toast.

"Here's to moving up in the world."

"Fuck off." Peter eyed him speculatively for a long moment. "It was because I wanted it to end."

Remus peered at him over the rim of his mug.

There was a dark intensity emanating from Peter. Not dangerous in the same way that Bellatrix or even Sirius was; sharp and sinewy, a predator stalking prey. It was as if Remus was moving among the stars and encountered a vast nothing that devoured everything it dragged into its field.

No sound, no light, just cold, dead silence.

"All my friends were dying or turning into people I didn't recognise anymore, and I was terrified," Peter continued quietly. "Every day I was terrified, and I just wanted it to end. I didn't care how."

He pushed off the wall, leaving without waiting for a response.

It didn't matter. There was nothing to say.

On the fifth day, an apple rolled off the plate as Peter approached the cell. It hit the ground, rolling at his feet. He leaned down to recover it, and the rest happened very quickly.

Remus rushed forward, his arm darting out to catch Peter around his neck as he rose back up, yanking him back hard against the bars.

"You always were an idiot."

Peter thrashed and struggled in his grip. His fancy silver hand clawed at Remus' forearm, more powerful than Peter had any right to be.

But Remus was stronger.

"I would be lying if I said I didn't miss you, Pete," he said calmly, tightening his grip. "I missed you every day, like a limb. I still do."

The keys were jangling against Peter's belt loop, against the bars. Remus could reach through and grab them now, if he wanted to.

"You weren't the only one who was afraid, you know? We were just kids. Only the rest of us learned to kill our enemies instead of our brothers."

It wasn't about the keys.

"My brothers died twelve years ago." The fingers scratching and scrabbling against his arm were weakening, slowing. "I buried one with his wife in Godric's Hollow, and they put up a little statue for them that I still can't stand to look at."

Peter's knees buckled, his weight against Remus' steady arm adding pressure.

"I buried the other in a little plot in Coxheath, and I used to wonder why it couldn't have been me. And I grieved."

Remus took a deep, slow breath. A holy calm settled over him.

"I want you to know," he continued in that same soft, conversational tone, "that everything you've done has amounted to nothing. That you are nothing, and no one will remember you."

Things happened very slowly after that.

Peter stopped struggling.

Remus counted heartbeats.

There were six.

And then there were five.

He reached down and pulled the keyring from Peter's belt, popping the beltloop clear off. It wasn't like Peter needed it anymore. He left the body against the bars, opening the door to his cell without looking back.

"Hullo Professor."

Dean was watching him open their cell door with wide eyes, more surprised — appraising — than fearful. Luna waved at him cheerfully, same as when he'd last seen her, if a little taller. Remus nodded to them both in greeting.

"I'd say it's good to see you both, but I'm rather sorry you're here. Can everyone move under their own power?"

"Ollivander and Griphook are both a bit worse for wear," Dean said apologetically.

"Alright, well give me a hand now then."

It only took a few moments for them to get Griphook and Ollivander situated on Dean and Remus' backs, respectively. Remus, in the meantime, had been coming up with a plan.

So long as they were quiet and careful, he could sniff out the exit while avoiding the manor's residents. They just needed to be quick about it; he didn't know how long it would be before Peter was missed.

But no sooner did he reach his hand out for the door than it burst open, revealing a particularly unhinged-looking Sirius, closely flanked by Harry and Ron.

There was a short pause in which the two men processed one anothers' sudden appearance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Remus asked faintly.

"We came to rescue you," Sirius said with a vaguely affronted tone.

Remus turned around, looking at the assortment of prisoners he'd broken out and the cooling body of the jailor at the other end of the room, and then turned back to Sirius.

"Well done."

Harry let out a choked sort of noise that might have been either a sob or a snort, he wasn't quite sure.

"Right," Ron said quickly. "So, mission accomplished, let's go!"

He and Harry ushered Dean-and-Griphook and Luna up the stairs first, Ron taking point and Harry flanking. The moment they were out of the room, Sirius reached out and cupped Remus's jaw, brushing a thumb across his cheek. He felt something damp on his face.

"Have you been crying?"

Remus shrugged.

"Maybe. I didn't feel anything," he said quietly, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. Let's go."

Remus pushed past him, following the boys up the stairs. Sirius followed close behind.

They didn't look back.

#remus lupin #peter pettigrew #malfoy manor #dark fic #angst #mild humor #lunapwrites #i am on my bs #finally #please note the cw #read at your own risk #wolfstar

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years

Text

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety. Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them. Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.

Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out.

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?”

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored.

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!”

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked.

“...No.”

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?”

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?”

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained.

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously.

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?”

Virgil waited.

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added.

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure.

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly.

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.”

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!”

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone.

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to.

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop.

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully.

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them.

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?”

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.”

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.”

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight.

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.”

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped.

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?”

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.”

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie.

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.”

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?”

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over.

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?”

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.”

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment.

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.”

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket.

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?”

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them.

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something?

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible.

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it.

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.”

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?”

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.”

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say.

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe.

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?”

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.”

“Right, right,” Virgil said.

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked.

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him.

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?”

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?”

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.”

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?”

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed.

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off.

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear.

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked.

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.”

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying.

Logan shook his head. “No, never.”

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness.

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired.

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building.

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area.

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway.

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby.

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.”

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.”

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?”

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him.

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him.

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up.

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.”

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries.

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly.

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began.

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise.

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.”

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face.

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.”

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding.

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus.

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words.

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it.

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly.

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead.

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees.

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red.

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.”

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it.

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.”

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus.

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.”

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.”

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?”

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?”

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed.

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees.

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?”

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while.

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!”

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge.

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked.

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully.

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?”

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.”

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching.

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?”

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.”

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.”

“But, like, research? Drafts?”

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil.

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him.

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.”

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.”

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to.

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.”

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?”

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking.

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?”

Logan perked up. “Really?”

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it.

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?”

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05

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kerie-prince · 4 years

Text

We're Worlds Apart (6)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: language, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of sexual activity (but no actual scenes), Blaise (you know what i mean <3)

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: would y'all be interested if i added a smut chapter? also fun fact! the little date bit where y/n thinks about her worst date is based on my real life experience. only we didn't go to mcdonald's, we went to in-n-out. and it was terrible

(gif cred)

Blaise Zabini.

This man was the walking definition of lust. Flirtatious, smooth, and most definitely a womanizer. He didn’t hide it in his actions and you didn’t care. He could break your heart and have you crying for weeks, but man, if he wasn’t gorgeous.

Blaise Zabini looked as if he was carefully molded by Aphrodite. A man almost too beautiful for the world, and you’re going on a date with him. He nearly knocked the air out of your lungs when he asked to take you out to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in Buffalo. And who were you to say no?

The whole window incident was completely forgotten. He could see more if he’d like— “Hey Y/N?” Your employee brought you out of your thoughts. A soft blush was on your face as you tried to act like you weren’t thinking of your neighbors’ friend. “Uh, yeah, what’s up?”

“Did you want me to put the crystal beads in the front? They’ve been really popular today.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You had a few more hours of your day left before going back home. You had called over two of your best friends to catch up and help you pick out an outfit for your date that coming Saturday. It was currently Thursday, but in case nothing in your closet was good enough, you’d at least have some time to go shopping with them. Which was probably going to happen anyway.

It was a really good day; it got really busy with customers and the usual nuisance was gone today. But no matter how busy it was, you still felt like time was passing by slowly. In all honesty, what you really wanted was to be able to see Blaise today even if it was for just a minute, just to say hi.

Your last date was six months ago and, well. If it went well, you wouldn’t be attending the date you were going to later on the weekend. It was a horrifying date; he took you to a fucking McDonalds on the first (and last) date, only paid for his own meal, and made weird sexual innuendos nearly the whole time. And the worst bit was that even though it was a terrible date, you decided to give him another shot by texting him saying that you’d like to go to another date and he never texted you back.

Blaise was only going to be around for a month, you know this. And you kinda felt bad for taking some of his time away from his best friend whom he was visiting for, but he asked you out. So, if he’s alright with it you should be, too.

After the store closed, you stayed an extra hour just to make sure everything was cleaned up and ready for tomorrow. As much as you were in a rush, you hated clutter and didn’t want to have to wake up earlier to clean. Most likely, your friends were gonna want to drink a little. Traffic home wasn't great, but once you got home you got exactly what you asked for.

Outside, Blaise stood against a wall smoking a cigarette on Draco’s porch. God, even the way he stands is hot you thought. He saw you pull in your driveway and put out the last of the bud onto the ashtray. Blaise made his way to you and your heart was beating hard. “Good evening, gorgeous,” he said in that mesmerizing British accent. I’d kill to hear that voice in the morning.

“Hello,” you sighed in contentment. He was about to say something before your friends pulled up next to your car. Internally, you groaned. You just had to hope they wouldn't say anything to embarrass you. Without taking the chance, you started thinking of a reason to excuse him back to Draco’s house but it was too late as your friends were already rushing to your side. Act normal, act normal, act normal—

“Hey Y/N, who's this?” Miranda probed. Her voice was suggestive and you caught how she looked Blaise up and down. Bianca, the shyest of the three stood aside and waved at him.

“Blaise, these are my best friends Miranda and Bianca,” your hands gestured to the girls by your side. “Guys, this is Blaise.”

He took their hands and kissed the top of them. “Well, you ladies have a goodnight. I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He winked at you before he left.

Miranda let out a sigh before she spoke, “God, you’re so lucky.” She started heading into your house and pulled out a bottle of wine from her purse. Yeah. I am.

—

Draco has no idea what he walked into.

Santa Marie’s was absolute chaos. There was nearly a horde of injured wizards and witches that he and his team had to help. People filled the waiting room and beds were constantly being changed for the next patient.

The worst bit of it was that no one had any memory as to what happened. “This is a really strong memory charm. Not as bad as how Lockhart was left, though. Any idea who could’ve done this?” Draco worked as he healed one person after the next. He’s been running around with Ian at his side.

“Not really. This is the first time I’ve ever seen anything like this. Hell, this is probably the first time anything like this ever happened at Santa Marie’s,” Ian pondered. It was true. Something like this hasn’t been seen in this hospital. But Draco wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing about it. He became Head Healer at Santa Marie’s for a reason and he was going to prove he deserves this position.

When he found a few minutes to himself, he called his landline at home to let Blaise and Theo know that he might not come home for the night. Theo was the one to answer the call and offered to take Draco some clothes if need be, but Draco already had a bag in his office just in case something kept him there. Guess today’s that day.

“Are you by yourself?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, Blaise left about twenty minutes ago,” Theo confirmed.

“Where’d he run off to? Not like he has other friends around,” Draco chuckled. He used the time to eat a sandwich from the cafeteria vending machine. Wasn't as filling, but he figured it’ll do for now until he would be able to eat an actual meal.

“Don’t you remember? Blaise got his date with… what’s her name again? The muggle, witch one, fuck if I know,” Theo said. That’s today? Draco had forgotten all about it. Of course, if he had remembered, he’d probably be distracted from his work today. Wait, why?

Theo regained his attention by calling his name multiple times thinking Draco had just hung up. “I’ll call you later. Still got loads of work to be done.”

“Hey, do you think they’ll do it-” Draco cut the call off before he could listen to the end of that sentence. Last thing he wanted on his mind while he worked was Blaise doing… things with you. It wasn’t because he liked you. You’re his neighbor and things could get pretty weird. It took months just to get along and have one engaging conversation.

And honestly, Draco still didn't like how you were a Wiccan. He may not understand what exactly it means, but it didn't matter. What would even happen if for some reason, Blaise actually showed you what real magic looks like? That was what really concerned Draco. Showing a muggle magic. He didn't know what those laws were like under the Magical Congress, but under the Ministry it was only allowed to show muggles magic and the wizarding world if it had the promise of marriage or you were a mudbl— muggleborn.

And Draco knew Blaise. His longest committed relationship was probably three months, so marriage is a definite no. Draco didn't know why he was even worried about it, it's just one bloody date. He figured that America made him soft as he stood ther overthinking about literally nothing. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn't feel Ashley flick his forehead. “Ow! That hurt!”

“I’d be worried if it didn't. You were standing there like a damn zombie. You ready to get back out there?” Ashley sassed. Draco scarfed the last of his sandwich and followed Ashley back to the emergency room. Ugh, I want this day to end.

—

It was the best date you ever had. You weren't in love or anything, but you were definitely tired out. The dinner was amazing and the conversations were engaging and interesting. But it's the events after the dinner that you remember.

Unlike boyfriends and girlfriends before, Blaise took his time with you. Slow, sensual and just perfect. It was quite suspicious, actually. What man is this perfect? There's something up. Weird foot fetish, secret Star Wars nerd. Or worse. Star Trek you thought.

Two days after the date, your best friends drove straight to your house after a single text was sent. There was no way Miranda and Bianca were going to read about the details on a phone screen, no. They wanted to hear the explicit details with their own ears.

“He did what?” Miranda nearly choked on the wine. There was a certain confidence in your aura. You slept with a man hand crafted by the gods and it was the best time of your life.

Bianca sat bashfully listening to your story, but she leaned forward to hear you better. “Little trashy for a first date, but who the hell cares? Ten out of ten, would definitely do again.” You smirked at the end of your corny joke. Your friends looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “Alright, we get it. What now, though? He's only here for a month. What's gonna happen now?” Miranda questioned.

“Dunno. But for now, I'm just having fun. At first, I thought it'd be weird since his friend isn't the most pleasant to live next to, but Blaise is different.” You could only assume they were different, but considering you were getting along way better you figured it was safe to assume they were.

“What does your neighbor even look like? I haven't seen him anywhere,” Bianca noticed. Now that you realize, you haven't seen your brooding neighbor in a couple days. Not that you cared. “Actually, I don't know. Work, probably,” you shrugged your shoulders as you brought your wine glass to your lips.

“Where does he work?” Miranda asked.

“In the emergency room at a hospital,” you answered.

“Oh. You know where?” Miranda kept at it. “No, we don't really talk much. Took me nearly six months to even find out that he even talks, let alone what he does for a living.” Just as you were about to take another sip, a certain black car was pulling up.

From afar, you could see the dark circles extremely prominent under Draco’s eyes and noticed him wearing the same clothes he left the house in a couple days ago. You actually pitied him, but admired him at the same time.

Being a doctor is no easy task, and here was one across the yard working day and night to help people. “Is that him?” Bianca noticed him from out the window. You nodded in response and took another sip of wine.

“I'm moving to England. There's no way that they have this many attractive men. Watch me pledge allegiance to the Queen, I don't care,” Miranda rambled. You laughed at her in response. “You said there's another person visiting him?”

“Yeah, why?” you quirked an eyebrow. “What does he look like?” Miranda looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes. You shrugged your shoulders, “Haven't seen him yet. Never comes out but I think I heard him once in the backyard.”

After a couple hours of talking and laughing, the two best friends decidedly went home and called you once they arrived safely. The night was chilly and the sky was clear. You admired the sunset and the orange and purple hues in the sky from the bench of your porch. If you could, you'd paint the scenery.

The sound of a door opening made you look to the side and saw Draco pulling out a cigarette. He looked around and once his eyes landed on yours, he reached in his pocket for the lighter. Once it was lighted, he took a deep inhale and let the smoke out with a long puff.

“Long couple days?” you asked from across. He took another puff before he started walking to the fence separating your yards. You did the same and leaned against it next to him. “Feel like shit,” he said under his breath.

“You look like shit,” you commented. Draco glared at you and you laughed at him. It took him a couple seconds to drop his glare and then he started laughing as well. When you looked at him, you noticed how his eyes crinkled and how bright his smile was. It was the first time you'd ever seen him like this and it made you feel a bit warmer inside. You remembered how when he'd first moved in, all you wanted was to be friends with your new neighbor and have moments like this.

The silence lasted a while when your laughters died down. He finished the last of the cigarette and stepped on it as you just stood and wandered into nothing. Whether it was an awkward silence or not, you didn't know. But considering you were comfortable, maybe it wasn't.

You looked at your neighbor and reached one of your hands out to him. Draco looked confused, like he once did when you first went to his door and reached for a handshake. He stood still as he expected you to say something. The expression spoke for him so you finally explained yourself, “Friends?”

Draco seemingly thought about it, eyes going back and forth from your hand to your eyes. He then looked at his house for some reason and met your eyes again. Hesitantly, he shook your hand, “Friends.”

This was going to be an odd friendship for sure, but after months of trying, a friendship began.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters @ninacotte @daedric-sorceress @frecklesandfirecrackers @hahee154hq @disartrous @oh-those-barricade-boys @lunalovecroft

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco imagine #draco x you #draco x muggle!reader #draco x y/n #draco fluff #draco au

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stxphxn-strange · 3 years

Text

i found the one, he changed my life (what now?) [i’d love it if we made it, pt. 3]

a/n: holy SHIT i am so happy about the way this turned out, this continues the story of college AU!tony dealing with his ex and the pressure he puts on himself to be honest with his friends. (title from “what now” by rihanna) TW: discussion of abusive relationships, mention of surgery, unhealthy/stalking behaviors, and i think that’s it but pls lmk if there’s anything else i should tag

summary: “He’s obsessed with you [...] I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky elaborated, leaving Anthony at a loss for words.

“It’s a nice day, seasonal allergies aside,” Anthony remarked.

“I would put flowers in your hair and be all cute and shit but I’m trying not to make you sneeze,” Stephen replied. “That would be unfortunate.”

Anthony laughed lightly and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. “You can still pet my head though, that would be nice.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at subtlety?” Stephen asked, beginning to play with Anthony’s hair.

“I think you did this morning,” Anthony replied. “Because you’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that why you love me?” Stephen teased, batting his eyelashes.

“It’s one of many reasons,” Anthony said, a soft smile on his face. “It is really nice out though.”

“Listen I know I’m always on time, but can we make an exception today?” Christine sat across from the couple, her auburn hair made extra bright by the sunlight as she pulled it out of her face. “Sorry I’m late.”

“The way that you’re literally not sorry at all makes that apology for me,” Stephen said. “Don’t worry about it though, we’ve just been hanging out. Where’s Hope?”

“Inside, for some reason,” Christine replied with a shrug.

“Probably because it’s allergy season,” Anthony commented, rolling his eyes as he sneezed again.

“He complains, despite begging me to sit outside with him,” Stephen added.

“That doesn’t sound like me, but go off I guess,” Anthony replied, picking up his phone. “Hey Rhodey, what’s up?”

“Are you running errands by chance?” Rhodey asked.

“Nope, I’m sitting outside with Steph and Christine,” Anthony said. “Why, do you need something?”

“I was just going to ask if I could send you a short list of things I wanted. Not a big deal but I’m out of cereal,” Rhodey replied.

“Text it to me anyway, I don’t think I’m going out but if I do I’ll get whatever you want,” Anthony said with a shrug.

“You’re the best Tones. By the way are you feeling better?” Rhodey asked.

“A little bit. It’s nice just sitting outside,” Anthony replied. “I dunno. I’m not thinking about it.”

“Fair enough. Enjoy the fresh air, don’t worry about the cereal though! See you later.”

“Bye Rhodey, everyone say bye!”

Christine and Stephen shouted their goodbyes as Anthony ended the call.

“You good?” Christine asked kindly.

“Yeah, sorta.” Anthony shrugged again. “I just didn’t sleep a lot last night, so that wasn’t fun. I’ve been stressed out about… things. Turns out it actually is weird to have one of your friends dating your ex.”

Christine hummed. “Tea. I thought there was something bothering you, like more than just the awkwardness. I can read you well enough by now. So what’s wrong?”

“Honestly I don’t want to tell you this exact minute because I feel like the only person who should hear this privately is Bucky. I’ll have to see how I feel after I talk with him, and if I’m okay then I’ll probably tell everyone in the group all at once. I just don’t want to repeat the same story over and over again, that’s going to wear me down,” Anthony replied. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh my god dude that’s fine! No stress,” Christine rushed to assure him. “You just seem sad and I want to help but I also don’t want you to make yourself feel worse, that’s not fair to you.”

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Christine.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Christine said.

Anthony sneezed again, not seeing the need to reply beyond that. There was just nothing else to say.

“Let’s go inside,” Stephen suggested. “It’s getting kinda gross out anyway.”

“Oh sorry, that’s because I’m out here. I’ll leave.” Anthony jokingly moved to stand up, laughing raucously when Stephen pulled him into a hug before he even stood.

“Nooo, you’re good! You stay,” Stephen replied. “The sun is out because you’re here.”

Anthony blushed and buried his head against Stephen’s collarbone. “Oh hush.”

Christine stood up. “I may as well go inside while you two idiots keep flirting, now my allergies are acting up.”

“You’re not allergic to pollen,” Stephen remarked, standing up and offering Anthony his hand.

“I’m not allergic to most things, but I’m allergic to your bullshit,” Christine quipped. “I feel like I tell you that at least once a week.”

Anthony laughed and stood up, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist.

“In all seriousness, you’re cute together,” Christine continued.

“Oh we know,” Anthony said. “How was your day Christine?”

The trio headed inside as Christine thought about how to answer.

“Honestly I don’t think anything even happened today.” she finally said. “Hope and I had breakfast together and I quite literally ran into Carol in the library. It was nice to catch up with her though because I feel like I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Now that I think about it, I also feel like I haven’t seen Carol in a long time,” Stephen said.

“We didn’t talk for too long since we were in the library, but she seems good,” Christine replied. “I think she and Val are still unpacking so they’ve been focused on that, y’know?”

“Makes sense. Props to them for moving in the middle of the year, that’s too much for me. That’s why I’m making everyone wait until the summer,” Anthony said.

“You’re not making anyone wait, you’re just making sense,” Stephen corrected him. “Moving is stressful enough, I don’t want to deal with it during exam season and neither does anyone else.”

“Can I plan your housewarming party?” Christine asked, opening the apartment door.

“Who said anything about a housewarming party?” Anthony replied.

“Wong said I could throw one once you’re all moved in,” Christine explained. “We don’t have a contract in writing yet, but that’s because—”

“Because I never said you could throw us a party!” Wong shouted from the living room. He was sitting in his usual armchair by the window, half paying attention to whatever show Bucky and an all too familiar blond were watching. “Also Bucky is here again, and he brought a friend.”

“Boyfriend,” Bucky chimed in. “We’re going to dinner soon, I just left my jacket here the other day and then I decided I’d introduce Steve to you guys. So yeah, this is my boyfriend Steve. Steve, this is Christine, Stephen, and I think you know Tony. I heard there’s a history there or something.”

Bucky was trying his best to prematurely make the best of an awkward situation, but Steve was the only one who found any humor in what he said.

The offending blond laughed and nodded, his expression unreadable in a way that made Anthony freeze. He was looking with condescension at their entwined hands, like he didn’t approve of Stephen and Anthony finally being together. With an arrogant sniff, he got off his high horse long enough to respond. “I know him and Stephen, actually. You both look good.”

“Thanks,” Stephen replied, his teeth bared in a forced, blatantly hostile grin.

Anthony rubbed at his eyes, tearing up from the situation and his allergies. “Yeah good to see you too, if you’ll excuse me I need to take some allergy medication.” He couldn’t run and hide in the bathroom fast enough, and he knew everyone in the room could see him trembling.

Stephen let his genuine emotion break through his façade for a moment, frowning as he watched Anthony retreat. His steely look of disapproval returned a minute later as he sat down in the kitchen, eavesdropping on the group’s conversation.

“Mind if I get some water? I didn’t get to hydrate as much today,” Steve asked.

Stephen, pretending to be busy, glared at his phone like he was reading a poorly worded email. He paid little attention to the blond as he bumbled around the kitchen, following Wong’s directions on where to find cups and the Brita and other shit.

“So you’ve finally come back to the city, hm? Tony used to tell me about how you both grew up here and how New York never left you,” Steve asked Stephen. He was making an extremely poor attempt to sound friendly, but all he did was make the med student extremely uncomfortable.

Stephen gave a forced laugh. “Yeah, they couldn’t keep me away.”

“Seems like you couldn’t keep yourself away from Tony either, not with the amount of times he cheated on me with you,” Steve remarked.

“Listen, we both know that’s not true and I barely want to give you the time of day. You know damn well he never cheated on you and I don’t have to justify myself to you. After all, you were the cheater. If you think I’m just going to roll over in my own apartment and let you run your mouth like that, especially knowing how badly you treated my Anthony, then you’ve got another thing coming,” Stephen snapped. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Clearly anyone who thinks I’m aggressive and controlling hasn’t met you,” Steve said, closing the fridge and leaving Stephen fuming in the kitchen.

After 15 minutes of ignoring some small talk, Stephen had had enough. Anthony was still hiding somewhere and Stephen was just over Steve being in his apartment. He was trying not to be too angry, because Bucky didn’t know about how Steve and Anthony’s breakup or relationship went. Stephen couldn’t, and didn’t, blame him.

But Steve was a coward and a jerk, and Stephen wouldn’t touch him with an 11 foot pole. Stephen wouldn’t even get close to him to shove him headfirst out the door, actually.

“I’m gonna be in my room studying if you guys need anything, enjoy your dinner Bucky!” He said, waving at his friends in the living room and pointedly ignoring Steve.

“Thanks man! If you want to hang out later, maybe on a double date or something—”

“Oh I’d love that!” Steve chimed in, unprovoked and uninvited.

“Depends on what Ant’s doing, I know I’m pretty busy tonight but if he wants to go out then we’ll let you know,” Stephen said firmly. He heard the bathroom door open behind him and Anthony’s light footsteps in the hall.

“I think I’ll just run to the bathroom before we leave, if that’s alright?” Steve asked.

“Are you asking me?” Stephen replied, ignoring him and heading in the direction of his bedroom. “Don’t you dare patronize me.”

Anthony was standing nervously outside Stephen’s room, staring at the floor. He looked horrified and meek, pressing his back against the wall and hoping he’d disappear out of Steve’s gaze.

But of course he wasn’t that lucky. Sometimes it felt like he’d never truly get away from the way Steve used to look at him and was apparently still looking at him.

Anthony looked up as Stephen gently tapped his shoulder. “Hey… you alright?”

He forced himself to nod, tears still pooling in his eyes from either anxiety or allergies. Maybe both. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—”

“Oh there you are Tony! Bucky and I are leaving, so I thought I’d say goodbye,” Steve said, lingering in the doorway to the bathroom. “Maybe we could go for a double date later? If you’re allowed to, that is. I always said Strange was a controlling downgrade, didn’t I?”

“Good thing I never listened when you said that, because I’m much happier now,” Anthony muttered.

“Aww, don’t be a bad sport! It’ll be just like the glory days.” Steve appeared to be ignoring his current relationship to flirt with Anthony, stepping out of the doorway and leaning closer (read: too close for comfort) to him.

“I don’t know about that,” Anthony said, his voice taut. “I wouldn’t want to be around you for much longer. Seeing you is already making me think about our… could you call it a relationship?”

“You’re so funny Tony, just as funny as I remember.” Steve sounded like a content house cat as he quite literally purred at Tony. “I miss that humor. I just miss you.”

“I can’t say the feeling is mutual.”

++++

“Not to state the obvious, but I hate that guy,” Stephen muttered, storming into the kitchen a few hours later.

“Is Ant okay?” Wong hadn’t moved from his seat in the living room, except for the fact that he was laying across the armchair sideways and there were three more mystery novels next to him.

“He’s sleeping. Even before all of that shit went down,” Stephen began, gesturing to the air in front of him, “We were outside for long enough that even if he won’t admit it, his allergies are bothering him.”

“How long were you outside for before I came to sit with you guys?” Christine asked.

“Maybe 90 minutes? Long enough to be considered too long,” Stephen replied. “It doesn’t matter. Did you guys eat yet?”

“No, we were waiting on you and Pepper. She said she’d be back by 7,” Christine said.

“What do you want? I’m open to suggestions,” Stephen asked. “I kinda want to make pasta but I know I’m not good enough at it so it wouldn’t make Anthony happy.”

“Don’t be stupid, Stephen. It absolutely would, and you know that,” Christine scolded him. “Do whatever you feel like! And I think pasta sounds nice.”

Stephen nodded. “Fair enough. I’m making ravioli and none of you can stop me. We deserve it.”

“Oh no Stephen don’t do that, don’t make something that you like to cook and that we all like to eat,” Wong teased. “Christine, he’s too powerful, we have to stop him.”

Stephen humorously rolled his eyes. “Anthony is the one who gave me a good recipe, so technically we all have him to thank for enabling me. Except not right now. Let him sleep.”

++++

“Oh by the way, I told Bucky that I’d get coffee with him later and we’re going to talk about whatever the hell happened this weekend,” Anthony said. “Do you want me to bring you back anything while I’m out?”

“Hmm… I don’t think so.” Stephen drew a heart on the back of Anthony’s hand with his thumb, something he noticed himself doing a lot.

Anthony always rewarded him for the gesture with the smallest, shyest smile that Stephen thought was the most adorable thing ever. “Text me if you change your mind, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Stephen smiled back at him, lovingly brushing Anthony’s hair out of his face. “Also if I send you a list will you help me decide on a movie for tonight?”

“Not sure you’re asking the right person, but sure,” Anthony replied.

“That’s subjective. I think I’m asking the right person,” Stephen said. “You’ve never steered me wrong before.”

“I hope I never do.” Anthony pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Stephen’s lips. “But knowing you, you’ll definitely change your mind about wanting a tea or something.”

“If I do, I’ll tell you,” Stephen replied, smiling into the kiss. “Promise. Have a good day, and good luck later.”

“I think I’m going to need it,” Anthony said with a little nervous laugh.

“Would a kiss help your luck?” Stephen couldn’t keep a neutral face. “I never imagined myself saying that. Or getting to kiss you.”

“Stop it, don’t make me blush this early in the day,” Anthony replied. “In all seriousness, I love you. And your kisses are magical, who’s to say they aren’t lucky?”

++++

Anthony couldn’t say whether or not he felt lucky later that day, because the only thing he felt was nervous. Bucky looked just as nervous and sheepish as Anthony did, and his internal monologue had already switched to guilt. They exchanged small talk and pleasantries while they waited for their coffee, their mutual discomfort becoming more and more tangible by the minute.

Most people joked that Anthony talked to hear the sound of his own voice, but today he was so nervous he couldn’t hear himself think. He didn’t know what to say or even where to start. Thankfully, Bucky blurted out a question before Anthony thought about how to start the conversation.

“How long were you two together?”

“Two and a half years, give or take. And I didn’t cheat on him with Stephen.”

“I didn’t think so. I wasn’t even going to ask about that.” Bucky smiled, trying to somehow calm Anthony down with his expression. “Who broke it off?”

“Me. Sometimes I feel like I did it a lot later than I should have, honestly.” Anthony shrugged. “I wasn’t ever happy in that relationship. I wanted to be, and I did everything I could to make it work even at my own expense, but eventually I had to end it. I’m happier now, but sometimes I still… I shouldn’t say any of this to you, not if you’re happy.”

“You know what bothers me, though?”

Anthony wasn’t expecting that. “What’s up?”

“I don’t think he’s over you. And that doesn’t bother me in a jealous sense, I’m not like that, but I feel almost used. Especially after this weekend,” Bucky said.

“What do you mean?” That worried Anthony for a lot of reasons, and he couldn’t decide which one was the most important.

“Tony, he's obsessed with you. The entire time we were driving Sunday night he wouldn’t stop talking about you, to the point where it was weird. I started to feel like he used me to see you,” Bucky replied. “One time I showed him a group picture, this was like six months ago, from that time we went out ice skating and ever since then he’s been pestering me about you. I don’t even think it has anything to do with me, if that makes sense.”

“I’m not following,” Anthony admitted. “Not entirely, anyway.”

“I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky said. “Now as I said it’s not jealousy, I just think it’s a bit disturbing that he’s so hung up on you.”

Anthony nodded slowly. “Yeah, I don’t like that. He didn’t want me to dump him but I had to, there’s no two ways about it. What happened Sunday?”

“We had a disagreement. I told him I felt used and he wasn’t happy about that, but he didn’t deny it either,” Bucky replied. “I was hoping he’d drop the whole thing but I don’t think he’s going to. I don’t think he’s going to ever get over you, honestly.”

“Damn. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that.” Anthony nervously ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to pull at it. “Um… yeah I don’t really know what to think or what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Bucky admitted. “I really want to try things out with him and see how they continue, but I also don’t think he’s going to change. Now that he’s actually seen you, I feel like it’s only going to be more awkward.”

“Oh about that, I’m sorry I didn’t want to go out the other day,” Anthony said. “I was going to try and make myself power through it, but… just being around him for however long you guys were in the apartment was way too much. I got really anxious and just hid in Stephen’s room. And then, on an unrelated note, I ended up sleeping for 14 hours or something.”

“I’m sorry if I was forceful. I didn’t know how to subtly ask if he was making you uncomfortable in the moment, but I could see it,” Bucky replied. “I don’t blame you.”

Anthony shrugged. “Dude I’m at a loss, generally speaking. I don’t know what to say about everything you just told me, but honestly I’m feeling a little sick.”

“Are you going to see Stephen? I’m meeting Christine, so if you want I’ll walk with you,” Bucky offered.

Anthony nodded. “Sure.”

“I really am sorry, Tony. For everything this weekend, and if something I said upset you after your wisdom tooth surgery,” Bucky said.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve been stressing about how to tell everyone about that relationship for too long and the way I felt when I woke up just reminded me of something I still don’t really want to talk about,” Anthony replied. “There’s a lot I’m holding back, even from you, but I’m just not ready to go into all of that yet.”

“I won’t be upset if you tell me,” Bucky tried to comfort him.

“It’s less about that and more the fact that I don’t want to even think about it. I don’t want to think about him,” Anthony said. “I don’t want to hear his voice, or see him, or even hear about him, if I’m being honest. And I feel bad, because I know you love him, but—”

“But you’re my friend, and I care about you. Plus you’re way too polite to be direct when something or someone upsets you and I think that does more harm than good. You just end up keeping everything to yourself, and you don’t have to,” Bucky interrupted. “You don’t have to be a closed book all the time.”

Anthony smiled at that. “Stephen’s said that to me before. I don’t know why, but I like that phrasing. I’m not one to open up in general, even though I trust everyone in our friend group, but this feels like it’s too much to get into the open right now. Someday I’ll be ready, but not today. It doesn’t help that this weekend was honestly too soon.”

“That’s fair man,” Bucky replied. “I don’t have to tell you that Stephen loves the shit out of you, and you deserve that.”

“I could go on and on about Steph probably endlessly,” Anthony said, hiding his face as he blushed.

“Everyone knows that, even people who have never met either of you know that!” Bucky teased. “But honestly, are you okay?”

Anthony shrugged. “Yes and no. I just need time.”

“I understand. And I am really, really sorry about this weekend,” Bucky replied. “Forgive me?”

Anthony shook his head. “Do I need to? It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not, but still… I’m sorry. I hope that means something, at least.”

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @taruyison @chocopiggy @majesticnerdynerd @spooky-n-spunky @merlynthedisasterchild @kitkatfat15 @maya-custodios-dionach @katninjagirl97

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #my ironstrange college au #protective stephen strange #james rhodey rhodes #wong #protective Bucky #james bucky barnes #christine palmer #implied christine/hope #implied valcarol #not steve rogers friendly #implied anti stony #implied anti stucky #ok off to dream about part 4

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ahgasecaratfromn-city · 4 years

Text

Ten Things I Hate About You

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader ft. Haechan, Johnny and mention of Jeno

Words: 7.7k

Genre: Fluff, the tiniest bit of angst if you squint, college au

Warning: Tiniest bit of cursing, kissing, family issues, anxiety attack

Summary: You never had the luxury of selecting who you were going to tutor, so when you paired with the only person you disliked, Lee Mark, you couldn’t help but formulate a list of the ten things you hated about him.

A/N: Okay so, I will admit this is longer than I anticipated, my bad. Mark has been stuck in my head and this was my way of getting him out. Basically, each part is a snip bit/ scene from the day named in bold. *This is very very very minimally edited

“Who the hell is that?” was not the most flattering thing someone could say when being given a free tutor. Hell, it wasn’t a flattering thing to say under any circumstance. Yet, there you were, walking slowly towards your literature class’s resident idiot, Mark.

“Me, I’m Y/N,” he looked you up and down, frowning slightly before looking back at the professor. The boy seemed to always believe that his opinions mattered to anyone but himself. He was always screaming his misconstrued thoughts during class or more likely not showing up at all, and everything about him seemed to piss you off.

Maybe it was the way he spoke to people, always assuming he was in the right. Or, maybe it was the fact that he spoke period, always rambling about absolutely nothing while the class was engaged in relevant and important conversation. More likely, it was the permanent grin etched on his face, as if nothing could touch him, not even the failing grade he was receiving in this class.

“Mark, this is quite literally your last shot because there is seriously nothing else I can do for you,” you tuned out the rest of the conversation, only raising an eyebrow once you heard that Mark wouldn’t be able to pass without a certain score on the final.

“And you really should thank Y/N, there are other students she could be helping,” your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, blushing lightly as the men looked at you.

It wasn’t as if you had volunteered to tutor Mark specifically. You had been tutoring since high school and figured it was the perfect work-study job to take up. Except you didn’t choose who to tutor, only which subjects. Unfortunately, literature happened to be one of them, and Mark happened to suck at it.

“Now, both of you get out of here,” he pointed to the doorway with a slight smirk on his face as Mark trudged away clearly annoyed.

“We can work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until the test. We can meet up at the library,” you offered, following after the boy who seemed to only quicken his pace. Jerk.

“Not Friday, that’s a busy day,” he shrugged, looking at everything but you.

“The test is three weeks from today and judging by your, uhm previous scores, you need all the time you can get,” the boy whipped around at that statement, raising his brow at you. You didn’t understand why he seemed so shocked, you were only telling the truth.

“Fine, catch you later,” His eyes were looking behind you, focused on something else before he finally walked away from you.

That was another thing that bothered you, he never made eye contact. It was like no one was worth the time of day to him.

“What are you looking at,” A familiar arm snaked its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as you prepared to go home. You smelled the familiar scent of aftershave and light cologne that immediately brought a smile to your face.

“You’ll never guess who I have to tutor,” you looked up at your best friend, Haechan, grinning at his confused face. Haechan had been your best friend since you were kids in the sandbox and since then, wherever he was you were likely right beside him.

“Let’s go eat, and you can tell me all about it,” He spun you around, walking you towards the exit.

“Maybe you’re being too hard on him,” the boy suggested, playing with his food before taking a bite. That was his habit whenever you ate together, he would mull over his food as if building a masterpiece before devouring an entire plate in a few bites.

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows at the statement.

“I mean, I dunno, maybe don’t judge a book by its cover and stuff,” A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he realized how cringey what he had said was. His eyes met yours for a split second before you both let out a few synchronized chuckles.

“That was so bad, Chan,” you reached over to poke his cheek, laughing even harder as his cheeks became a deeper shade of red.

“I mean seriously, can you even name ten things you don’t like about him?” He asked, suddenly raising his brows in a challenging manner.

“Honestly, I could name ten things I hate about him,” you admitted, taking a bite of your food to punctuate your point. He only shook his head in disapproval as a response before continuing.

“Get back to me in a few weeks, I bet you’ll even end up friends. He seems nice from what I’ve heard” he sent a knowing wink your way before calling the waitress over.

As he began talking to the waitress, his question was still lingering in your mind. Ten things you hated about Mark. You already had certain attributes running around in your head, but you wondered how many more you were going to add to your list.

1. I hate that he is inconsiderate

[Monday]

It was only the first day of your study sessions with Mark, and of course he was late. You were sitting at your usual table in the corner of the library, checking your phone for the nth time. He was almost an hour late and you were anything but surprised. The boy didn’t strike you as the type to keep his word.

“Hey, tutor girl,” The voice struck you from your thoughts, coming from someone you didn’t think you’d see today.

“Mark,” You nodded towards the seat across from you, opening the textbook you had sat in front of you. The boy sat silently, a smug grin painted across his face as he looked at you, eyes focused above your head.

“I had something pop up, sorry about that man,” even his apologies were insincere and annoying. You almost wanted to toss the coffee drink in his hands into the trash, but you found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Whatever, let's just get started,” He nodded in response, glancing down at your textbook with a look of uncertainty, “Did you bring your textbook?” It was then that you realized that he hadn’t brought anything with him, not even a pencil. Of course he was unprepared.

“It’s fine, use mine,” You turned yours around towards him before pointing towards a specific chapter. He nodded in response before flicking his eyes back up in your general direction.

“Today, we’ll start with the basics of analyzing a text. We’ll do ethos, pathos, and logos. It’s pretty simple but it’s gonna help with the essay portion,” You rambled on for a few minutes about the basis of arguments and speeches. His eyes were in the book but you couldn't tell if he was understanding or not. Throughout your explanation, you could see his leg shaking and his fingers tapping on the table.

“Is there anything you want me to go over?” his eyes were still glued to the book as he looked back up at you. He was smiling, as usual, but something about the look in his eye told you that he was utterly confused.

“No, Uh, I think I understand,” His taps became a bit more intense until he realized you were watching him and stopped.

“It’s okay if you don't,” you said mindlessly, “I’m here to help,” as much as you weren’t a fan of Mark, you wanted him to do well. It was a part of the reason you liked tutoring. Seeing someone work hard for something, and helping them get there was one of the best feelings in the world.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, smiling wider. You didn’t understand why he didn’t just say he needed help since it was literally your job, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Let’s go over it one more time, for my sake,” you went over the material again, using more examples, even some from popular music to explain the definitions he didn’t understand.

“I mean, I already understood, but I get it, more,” He said sheepishly, rubbing his face in his hand. You smiled a bit at the light pink color growing on his cheeks as you switched subjects.

“Okay, I believe you. We have some more material to cover though. Since you’re picking it up so quickly,” you smirked at the last statement, flipping the textbook in front of him to the correct page. You ignored his groan of despair, instead continuing the lesson you had planned.

You had believed after the first lesson, he might be easy to work with, but eventually, you were proved wrong. Mark was an absolute menace. His incessant taps on the table, glances around the room, random babbling, and absolute lack of interest in what you said, was pissing you off. Even the librarian had walked over to tell him to be quiet.

“Let’s take a break,” he suggested, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s been thirty minutes, Mark,” you rolled your eyes, pointing back at the sheet in front of you. He seemed to lose focus often, so you decided making him take notes might help.

“I know, but honestly my brain is full,” he whined, sending puppy dog eyes your way. Usually, you would have been able to say no, but his puckered lip and innocent eyes were beginning to sway you.

“Fine, ten minutes,” you gave in to a smiling mark, who shot his fist up in excitement. He leaned back in his chair, looking into space with a look you couldn’t decipher. He was visibly deep in thought and you were beginning to feel very awkward as time went on.

“Tutor girl, yeah she’s tutoring me

I wanna go home cause that’s the place to be,

Wherever I am, the vibe is nice,

Cause I’m cool like ice,” he went on and on rambling random rhymes with the biggest smile on his face. Nothing would have made you happier than saying that it sounded terrible, and while the rhymes themselves were ridiculous, his voice had a certain addictive vibe that made you want to keep listening.

He suddenly stopped, grinning at your lack of words “Shocked into silence, they say I have that effect on people,” he smirked nonchalantly eliciting a groan of annoyance from you.

“I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but your ten minutes are up,”

“What! It’s been like three at most,” he complained, dropping his head in annoyance.

“Well, at least stop being so loud,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, who lit up once again.

You sat in silence for a few seconds before he finally spoke, “Why are you so uptight, tutor girl?” The nickname was really beginning to bug you and so was the boy sitting across from you.

“I have a name you know,” you finally comment, ignoring his question. You were fiddling with your fingers under the table, doing anything to keep your mind off of the uncomfortable question he had asked.

“I know, Y/N,” Your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, almost giving you whiplash.

“So, why do you call me that?”

“It’s just a nickname,” he shrugged lightly before beginning to beatbox. He was like a child with the shortest attention span you had seen on anyone above the age of fifteen.

“It’s definitely been ten minutes now,” you pushed his paper towards him before beginning the next lesson.

2. I hate that he really is a mystery

[thursday]

“I’ve never been here,” You commented, looking up at your very tall friend, Johnny opening the door for you. He was a few years older than you but you ended up bonding through the tutoring center you both worked at.

The building was a typical cafe with a warm mocha toned interior. It had bookcases lining one wall with two big grandpa chairs watching over the small tables littered around the room. The place was relatively empty, with only a few people taking up two tables near the bookshelves. It was super cozy and inviting which made you question why you hadn’t been there sooner.

“Really? A lot of people from school come here,” you only nodded in response, following the boy towards the register.

Once inside, you immediately walked to the baked goods section, eyeing the various desserts.

You were glad Johnny called. You had been stressed out, from your mom riding you about job applications, classes reaching finals time, tutoring Mark, etc etc. It felt like as you got older the weight on your shoulders got heavier and heavier. Everyone in your life needed you to decide on your future and you just weren’t there yet. You couldn't even decide on a pastry let alone where you wanted to be in ten years.

“Are you ready to order?” Johnny tapped your shoulder, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Sure,” you nodded, masking the sadness the thoughts had brought on.

You watched as the older boy tapped the service bell before peering over the counter. “Someone’s coming,” he said, leaning back.

“Hey Johnny, what can I get ya today,” the familiar voice caused your eyes to bulge as you looked up at the owner.

“Tutor girl?”

“Mark,” you mumbled quietly, nodding in his direction. It seemed as if your problems followed you everywhere.

“You two know each other?”Johnny asked with a grin.

Mark answered quickly “We take lit together,” you frowned at the lack of mentioning the fact that you were his tutor.

“Ah okay,”

“How do you two know each other?” you asked, only half caring.

“We’ve been friends since his freshman year,” The older boy explained.

“Anyway, what do you want bro?” Mark asked informally, smile bright as he got ready to punch the buttons on the screen in front of him.

“I’ll have an americano, give me like two extra shots,” Johnny looked at you, waiting for your order as Mark tapped on the screen.

“Can I get an americano and a chocolate croissant,”

“Sure,” the younger boy said absentmindedly.

Johnny reached into his wallet before you could even say anything, looking down at you with a “don’t argue” look. You were used to him paying whenever you went out together or even with other friends, even though you always put up a fight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark said, pushing Johnny’s card back at him, “on the house,” he explained.

“You sure?”

“Yeah don’t worry about it,”

“Thank you,” you smiled sincerely, surprised by the gesture.

“He never pays for me,” Johnny said, chuckling as if it were an inside joke before he began looking for a seat.

He finally selected a table in the corner with two chairs beside it, right next to a window. You sat down in the chair, giving the place a once over again. Something had caught your eye this time. You watched as the dark-haired boy darted around behind the register, preparing your drinks expertly.

“I didn’t know he worked here,” You mumbled absentmindedly, still watching the boy work.

“Yeah, he works at a restaurant too,” Johnny commented, smiling knowingly in your direction. You furrowed your brows as you looked back at him. You didn’t know he had one job, let alone two.

“Oh,” was all you said, leaving it at that. It seemed like Mark really was a mystery to you. You knew virtually nothing about him. Something about that fact gave you an unsettling feeling that you were too stubborn to think about any further.

3. I hate that he asks too many questions

[Friday]

“I don’t want to gooo,” you whined, fighting against Haechan who was currently pushing you towards the library.

“It’s only the third day. You’re such a baby,” You could practically hear his eyes roll as he stopped in front of the door. He had given you a ride to the library, as he always would if he had time.

“Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,” Despite how childish it was, you literally stamped your foot, leading to a laughing fit from the two of you.

“I can’t believe you,” he sighed, lightly shoving you.

“I’m very mature though, on a serious-,” you suddenly stopped speaking as you noticed he wasn’t looking at you anymore, “what is it?” you turned on your heel only to be met with the infamous boy himself.

“Am I too early?” he looked down at his phone with furrowed brows before looking back at you.

“No, you’re actually on time,” you didn’t mean to come off as passive-aggressive but judging from Mark’s raised brows, you did.

You watched as Haechan reached out to shake Mark’s hand with a friendly smile and a quick mutter of his name. Mark responded by smiling awkwardly before finally reciprocating the gesture. “I’m Mark,” he introduced himself with his world-famous grin before flicking his gaze in your direction.

It was silent for a few moments before Haechan finally said something, “I’ll leave you guys to it,” he smiled one last time, sending you a mischievous look before leaving the two of you alone.

“You ready?” he asked, reaching up to grab the nape of his neck awkwardly. You quickly noticed the Jansport backpack he was sporting. It was a small thing but something about the fact that he came prepared made you feel weird.

“Uhh, yeah,” you opened the door to the library, walking quickly to the usual spot in the corner, Mark trudging quietly behind you.

“I made some flashcards for you,” You began, reaching into your bag and pulling out the index cards that you had put on a binder ring.

“Thanks,” he took the cards from your hand with a smile.

“So that guy’s your boyfriend?” he asked casually while shuffling through the cards.

You jaw all but dropped in shock as you fumbled to find the right words, “absolutely not,” you finally said, “he’s like a brother,” you clarified, waiting for his reaction.

The question made you feel uneasy coming from his mouth. It seemed random and very odd considering neither one of you had ever discussed anything personal.

“Oh, okay. You seem close,” he commented, continuing to look through the flashcards.

“We are, but uh, today lets just talk about your essay structure,” you changed the subject promptly, noticing the grin that was solidifying on his face.

Ten minutes later you could already tell he was distracted, judging by his taps on the table that were rapidly reaching a fever pitch.

He looked in your direction suddenly, “What do you want to do, tutor girl, like after graduation”

Mark asked you the question like it was the most casual thing to say, like it was comparable to “how was your day” or “what kind of coffee do you like.” No one had really asked you that before, what you wanted to do.

“uh, I’m not sure honestly,” you were unsure of why you were even entertaining the conversation. Had it been asked a few days ago you might have just rolled your eyes and answered with the generic response you had been trained to use.

“Really? You seem like the type to plan everything a hundred steps ahead,”

You quirked your eyebrow up in surprise “What’s that supposed to mean,”

A light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he stumbled over his words, “No, it’s just that you, like, seem put together, like you know what you want,” he clarified.

The notion confused you to an extent. You never knew what you wanted. You had spent so long doing what people told you that you should do, that you barely even thought about what you wanted. Honestly speaking, you had only started tutoring because your mother told you it would look good on college applications. You had just so happened to actually end up enjoying it. That was the real reason you always did everything the same way and were what Mark called ‘uptight’.

“I don’t,” you admitted, “I have a hard time knowing what I want,” you trailed off quietly before asking him the same question.

“I want to pursue music, but I’m not sure if it’s practical,” he said shrugging.

“It isn’t practical,” you agreed, smiling lightly at the shocked face Mark sent you, “but if it’s something you want to do, it’s worth trying,” you finished, watching as Mark let out a breath.

He sighed, “I wish it were that easy,” his table tapping picked up a slow pace. You nodded in agreement, realizing that you were in a similar predicament. “Well, what do you like to do?” he asked suddenly.

“You ask a lot of questions,” you replied simply, playing with the seam of your jeans.

4. I hate that he’s unbelievably stubborn

[Monday]

“Mark, honestly we can just reschedule,” You watched as the boy shook his head, jumping from his previous position.

“No, I’m fine,” he shook his head a few times before gesturing in your direction for you to continue.

The boy kept nodding off throughout your lesson and showing obvious signs that he was in no way capable of learning anything. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept all weekend, his eye bags were at least three shades darker than usual, and most importantly he wasn’t making any noises at all. Not even his usual incessant table taps.

“Mark, you did pretty well on the practice quiz, you can take the day off,” you tried to reason with the boy whose eyes were barely open. It looked like he was sleeping with his eyes open.

“No no, y/n,” him using your real name made you feel weird and told you that he was definitely not in the right mind. “You came all the way here, let’s just start,”

You chuckled lightly at his groggy and barely comprehensible voice as you closed your books.

“Why are you so tired anyway? Did you work over the weekend?” you found yourself actually curious about his answer, not just asking something random for the sake of it not being awkward.

He answered simply, trying his best to hide a yawn, “yep,”

You shook your head disapprovingly before finally speaking, “Alright this is what we’re going to do. One more practice test and then please go home and do us both a favor and go to sleep,”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” he admitted, sitting upright.

“You’re more of an inconvenience this way because I can't tutor someone who can’t even spell their own name,” I tapped on the corner of his notes, where he had written his name as “mar” leaving the last letter off.

“Fine,” he said finally, lifting his hoodie off of his head.

“You’re so god damn stubborn,” you whispered mostly to yourself.

“I can hear you, y’know,” you smiled at his remark before setting a practice test in front of him.

5. I hate that he sees what no one else does

[Friday]

“Yes, mom,” you paused for a moment, waiting for your mother’s usual rant about how you never did anything right, and how at your age she was already starting her own business, yada yada, the usual.

“I know,” pause, “I sent them out last week, remember?” pause, “I will,”

“Hey, tutor girl,” Mark greeted, taking his usual seat in front of you. He had a concerned look on his face as he noticed you were on the phone having an unpleasant conversation.

You pulled the phone away from your face, “I’ll be right back,” you shot him a small generic smile before walking outside of the building.

“Y/N if you don’t get it together, I’m going to-” your mother’s voice could be heard despite the fact that you had pulled the phone away from your face.

“I’m in the middle of a tutoring session, I have to call you back later,” you interrupted, pressing the hang-up button soon after.

You took a few long breaths before plastering a smile onto your face and walking back inside the building. You could feel Mark’s eyes on you as you walked towards him trying your best to keep up a strong facade.

“Are you okay,” the concern in his voice as you looked at him almost wiped the smile off of your face.

“I’m fine, let’s get started,”

“It’s okay if you’re not. You can tell me about it,” he paused for a few moments, tapping on the table as he usually did, “I can tell you’re you aren’t,”

“It’s nothing, let’s just start,” you waved your hand in dismissal.

“If that’s what you want,” he phrased it more like a question than a statement.

“So, today let’s talk about how point of view affects the entire story,” you began your explanation, the fake smile long gone as you gave examples from the required reading. Mark seemed only half interested in what you were saying, which was usually normal, except today you could feel his eyes glued to your face while yours were in the book as you gestured to certain sentences.

You were not in the mood for his antics and as time passed he was truly starting to bug you. “What!? What are you looking at?” you whisper-yelled in his direction. You found yourself feeling immediately guilty as the boy looked at you in complete and utter shock. His lips had slightly parted into an ‘o’ shape and his brows were slightly raised. His cheeks had even begun turning into a deep red.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he mumbled, trailing off at the end.

You raised your hand to your head, feeling a headache coming on, “no, I’m sorry. Honestly, I’m a little stressed out,” you admitted.

“It’s okay, you can talk to me about it. Like, if you want,” he looked at you expectantly, with a concerned expression adorning his face.

“It’s just my mom. She has a lot of expectations for me. It’s stressful sometimes, y’know,” he nodded at your words, waiting for you to continue, “It’s overwhelming. I don’t really know what to do. It’s like she’s been controlling my life for so long that I don’t even know what I want to do without her telling me,” you finished.

It felt good letting it all out, and for some reason, you felt comfortable telling Mark about it. He seemed to really listen to you, like he actually cared.

“Have you ever talked to her about it?” he asked.

“No, she’s not the best listener,” he nodded again.

“Then I think right now all you can do is try to figure out what you actually want for yourself. Like what’s something you really want to do? Like bucket list stuff,” he asked with wide eyes.

“I dunno, maybe a road trip,” you said the first thing that came to mind, mentally slapping yourself at how lame the answer was. “I’ve never really been anywhere,” you explained simply. “Kind of lame,”

He shook his head, “It's not lame if it’s something you want.” You only nodded in response.

“What you want is important, Y/N. Even if you don't know exactly what that is yet.”

6. I hate that he is everywhere

[monday]

“It’s not my fault,” Haechan rolled his eyes at your shocked expression as he spoke.

“Haechan,” you said slowly, “I really shouldn’t have to explain it to you,” you shook your head in his direction.

You were walking down the main commons area in your school, killing time before your next class.

“If someone says to you, hey! Can I borrow your hanger, how am I supposed to guess that they’ll-” he stopped speaking suddenly, a smile breaking out on his face, “look there’s your boy,” he nodded slightly in the direction ahead of you.

You looked up, almost immediately spotting Mark. He was smiling brightly as he spoke to a girl beside him. She looked to be familiar, maybe from the year below you. You watched as they laughed together, heads falling back as if they were in a movie. You had to admit, they made a cute couple.

“He’s not my boy,” you shoved your friend with light force, ignoring the tight feeling in your chest.

“Don’t worry, pretty sure she’s dating Jeno. Actually no, I’m super sure, every time I see them, they’re sucking face,” he grimaces at the notion, furrowing his brows tightly as if remembering the image vividly.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “Why would I worry?”

“Okay, y/n,” he matched your expression, shrugging in the same way you did.

7. I hate that his car smells just like him

[Tuesday]

“No it’s fine, I’ll just find a way home,” you glanced at Mark, whose eyes were on you already. “No, Haechan don’t worry about it. I’ll text you later,” you hung the phone up and looked up at the boy ahead of you.

After you opened up to Mark the previous week, he had begun taking a seat next to you in class. It seemed like you had become friends, or acquaintances at least. That felt weird to even think about. You and Mark were friends? No, acquaintances, you were just acquaintances.

“Everything okay?” he asked, gathering his belongings.

“Yea, I just have to walk home,” you answered absentmindedly before standing.

“I can, like, give you a ride,” he offered nonchalantly, standing in front of you.

“You drive?”

He smirked at the question, “just got a new car,”

“Okay then, if it’s no trouble,” you agreed, nodding at him. It was super weird how comfortable you were around him now. There were still things you very much disliked about him, but getting to know him had shown you that there were some things you hadn’t known at all.

“Alright,” he smiled in your general direction before leading the way. You had grown used to his quick pace, keeping up with ease now.

“It’s nice right,” he pats the old black car lightly, as if he was afraid something would fall off.

“Super nice,” you agreed with a grin.

You both walked to your respective sides and slid into your seats quietly. You were immediately hit with the smell of watermelon air freshener and the cologne Mark usually wore.

“You can put your address in,” he pointed to the GPS on the car and you promptly typed it in.

There was a lasting awkward silence after that, Mark focusing diligently on driving while you were focused on counting the red cars that went by. You wondered how long it would take for someone to say something. Eventually, Mark just put on the radio, hoping to fill the silence.

He winced slightly at the country song that began playing, “You wanna hear one of my songs,” he said suddenly, a small smile accompanying his words.

“Sure,” you were actually curious, seeing as you had never heard him rap seriously, only hearing his mumbles when he was bored.

“Press the acronym one,” he said, handing you his phone, eyes still trained on the road. It was almost comical how focused he was while driving whereas during tutoring sessions he was always distracted.

“Que-tay, uhm, qwe-ta,” you tried pronouncing the acronym, eliciting a laughing fit from Mark. His laugh was so innocent you couldn’t help but smile along even though you didn’t know what was so funny.

“Key-tah,” he finally said with a smile.

“Ah,” you nodded, turning the volume up.

The song started off subtly, with a chill beat that matched the atmosphere in the car. You could see Mark’s light blush peeking from your peripheral as the song went on. By the time the second verse began, Mark was humming along before finally fully rapping alongside himself. Again, you were reminded of how addictive his voice was.

He seemed so passionate at that moment, so confident. He was showing a side to himself that you hadn’t seen before. Someone so comfortable where he was. Someone truly in their element.

“I get why you want to do music,” you commented as the song ended.

“Why?”

“You love it. I can tell. It’s like more than just a career for you, it’s a part of you,” you said matter of factly. The statement confused you to some degree. You had never seen someone so comfortable in their element. You hated to admit it but you were even a little jealous.

He smiled at that notion, “It is a part of me. Ever since I was young, my dad taught me how to play guitar and that really just jump started my love for it.” You nodded in understanding before picking a random Frank Ocean song on his playlist.

“You should come to my showcase next week, I just got offered a spot today,” he said suddenly. You were completely shocked that he had asked you.

“You can bring your friend, I think our whole class is going. It’s supposed to be an end of finals celebration” ah, everyone was going.

“Okay,” you accepted simply, heat rushing to your cheeks for an unknown reason.

“just put your number in my phone, I’ll send the details later,”

The car ride from then on was more comfortable. What was once an awkward silence had become a relaxed atmosphere where you and Mark would chat about random things like the music on his playlist or the watermelon screensaver on his phone.

8. I hate that he thinks can pull one over on me

[wednesday]

“tutor girl, what’s up?” Mark crashed down into the seat in front of you, setting down a drink carrier from his cafe and a bag.

“Hi, Mark,” you greeted with a smile, shaking your head at his noisy entrance.

“Here you go,” he pushed an Iced Americano in your direction, following with the white bag.

“Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you watched the smile on his face widen as he shook his head.

“It’s the least I could I could do for my favorite tutor,” your felt your cheeks get hot until you remembered one very important detail.

“I’m your only tutor, and you still have to take the full practice test,” you said sternly, putting the straw in the coffee quickly.

“Come on,” he whined out before starting a whole argumentative speech about how the practice tests were annoying.

9. I hate that he doubts himself

[thursday]

“I mean, and I say this with full respect,” Mark began, “I truly don’t think I’m going to do that well,” he admitted, toying with the drawstring of his hoodie.

“Mark, just because you say with full respect, doesn’t make it more respectful,” you said with a grin, “but seriously, you’ve been doing so well on your practice quizzes. Over 60% every time, which is way better than what we started with,” you admitted, wincing a bit at the last statement you let slip out.

“Still, that’s not a passing grade,” he shrugged, utterly defeated as he picked up the essay rubric from his desk. His usual brighter than the sun smile had disappeared, leaving you feeling uncomfortably cold.

“Honestly your lack of trust in my tutoring skills is beginning to annoy me,”

“No, dude, I trust you,” your eyes flew to him at that statement. He was still pondering over the paper in front of him as he continued, “I just feel like I suck at this stupid subject,” he threw the paper back onto the table at that statement.

You found yourself giving a pep talk without even a second thought “No, you don’t. You’re caught on quickly. You’re so smart but you need to stop second-guessing yourself. You’re going to do well. Even better than well because you have my help.”

“Thanks, tutor girl. I appreciate you,” you could tell he was sincere because he had met your eyes, even if just for a split second. It was the first time he had ever looked you in your eyes and it was making you feel things.

“I’m serious though, you are way smarter than you give yourself credit for, and you should know that you are no matter what score you get on this stupid test,” you finish, grinning as the smile returned on his face.

“Okay,” he nodded lightly as he stood waiting for you to join him.

You chuckled lightly at the boy as you looked up at him, “What is it, Mark?” he had a sheepish look on his face as if he was nervous about something other than the obvious.

“uhm well,” He was looking intently at you when you didn’t notice, waiting for any signs that he was annoying you.

“Actually, there’s something I was going to ask you,” a light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he spoke. You nodded in his direction waiting for whatever he had to say, looking up to find his eyes on you.

At that moment you noticed almost like for the first time how pretty his eyes were. They were so doe-like and innocent, you couldn’t stop staring.

To outsiders, you both would have seemed very odd as you stood just staring at each other.

“Well, I-”

“Y/N, hurry- oh shoot, sorry,” Haechan’s voice rang from the doorway, pulling you out of whatever trance you had been in.

“I’m almost done,” you widened your eyes in Haechan’s direction for emphasis, looking back at Mark who had already looked away. “What were you saying, Mark?”

He smiled lightly for a moment, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing important,”

You furrowed your brows lightly, “You sure.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,”

10. I hate that I don’t hate him

[Friday]

“I told you so,” Haechan was grinning ear to ear as he joined you on your walk to class.

“I could name ten things I hate about him, yeah right,” He laughed to himself suddenly, mocking your old statement. “Imagine my shock seeing your face a few inches away from his. I should’ve taken a picture.”

“Shut up,” you pushed him lightly, finally reaching the door to the lit class.

“I’ll see you afterwards, good luck,” he said, sending you a final wave before walking away.

It was the test date and you were sure that Mark was nervous. As soon as you got into the room, you noticed his fingers tapping violently on the desk, his single mechanical pencil clattering as it jumped around. He was there early, earlier than you were and that was saying something. The room was empty except for the two of you, even despite you being only about fifteen minutes early.

“Mark,” you had to call his name a second time to get his attention. “Mark, relax,” you took the seat next to him and swiftly grabbed his chattering hand in your own. You watched as his leg began bouncing up and down as if it were mocking the pencil’s previous movement, “Mark, breathe,” his eyes were glued to something in the distance, his breath labored.

“Shit, I’m not prepared,” he muttered quietly, “I should have done another quiz,” he breathed out. “and I can’t fucking breathe,” he clenched his brows at the last statement, his breathing coming out as quick huffs.

“Look at me, Mark,” you reached up to turn his chin towards you. “I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” you said the words slowly, hoping to not make it any worse.

“You have to breathe, I’m right here and I’m not going to let go of you,” you squeezed lightly on his hand to emphasize your words.

“You’ve studied and studied. You’ve worked hard. You’re going to do well. All you have to do now is relax and breathe. In and out,” his eyes were glued to yours before he finally closed them altogether and began taking slow deep breaths.

“I’m here with you, and we’re both going to destroy this thing,” he nodded slowly at your words, opening them a few minutes later as his breathing reached a normal pace and his leg stopped bouncing.

You released his hand in the next second, sending him a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” was the last thing he said before people began filing into the room.

[Monday]

“I know what you’ve all been waiting for. I have your graded finals,” Your professor had waited until the end of the day to finally share the news, leaving everyone anxious.

It was utterly silent as he passed them around, only the sound of him saying a quick “see me after class,” to Mark, who immediately winced at the statement. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, noticing that Mark hadn’t received his test back.

“Class is dismissed,” he pointed towards the doorway after delivering the final test, smiling lightly at the people whose arms were thrown up in celebration.

Your score wasn’t that big of a surprise, you had gotten what was expected of you. You were way more interested in Mark. So you decided to wait outside the door, watching as students filed out.

It seemed like hours had passed while you were waiting for him. You mindlessly scrolled through your phone, completely missing the sounds of someone walking up to you, that someone being Mark himself.

You yelped in surprise as you were lifted off of your feet and spun around in the air.

“What the hell,” was all you said as the boy set you down.

“Y/N, Look!” he exclaimed, handing you the test with a huge eighty-five percent scribbled in red on the top right corner of the sheet.

“Mark, I told you, you could do it,” you hugged the smiling boy, grinning brightly at him.

“I couldn’t have without you, Y/N,” the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into your own was making you melt on the spot.

“No more tutor girl?” you asked, grin never falling.

“You’ll always be tutor girl but, uh,” he paused as if deep in thought for a moment, “I really like spending time with you. I think it will be weird not seeing you all the time,” you nodded in agreement, realizing that the semester had ended, meaning it was summer break.

“Well, we’re friends now right. We can still hang out,” you offered, watching as the boy looked down with a look you couldn’t decipher.

“Um, I know we’re friends, but,” he stepped a little closer to you, “I was wondering like, y’know if it’s possible, if you maybe wanna,” he continued to stumble over his words. You couldn’t help but smile at his very awkward, very cute way of asking you what you already knew he was getting at.

“Mark, do you want to go out sometime,” you finally blurted, chuckling at his pink face.

“Yes, I would like that a lot,” he said nodding.

“I don’t know if you knew but uhm, I mean it was before, but basically um, I’m sorry I judged you before, Mark,” you apologized suddenly watching as he shook his head in dismissal. It had been on your mind for a while even despite him not knowing.

“I knew you felt that way before. That’s kind of why I was so like reluctant to have you as my tutor,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed lightly.

“That’s why you were so weird the day he told us,” you nodded in understanding remembering the look Mark gave you when you were first introduced, as if you spat in his drink. In his defense you deserved it.

“Honestly, yeah,” he confessed, “but in your defense, I am kind of an acquired taste,”

“That’s not an excuse. I was an idiot,” you admitted, “Mark, you’re amazing,” he smiled lightly at your last statement, taking the time to just look at you. His brown eyes were like a pool, drawing you in until you sank, unable to stop staring.

He reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand before speaking, “Can I kiss you?”

You only nodded in response, waiting patiently as he lowered his head towards your face until he was less than a centimeter away. It felt like hours had passed until his lips grazed yours, allowing a tingling sensation to move throughout your body.

In a flash, your arms were around his neck and he was holding onto you delicately, like you would break if he was too rough. He tasted like a mixture of mint and watermelon gum. His warm foresty and floral scent was filling your senses, actively intoxicating you as his lips moved against yours rhythmically. The kiss was greater than any apology you could have given him since it was full of the emotion you couldn’t fully articulate. Mark was fully focused on you in the moment, lips moving against yours like a magnet.

“I told you to become friends, not make out in public,” you heard Haechan’s voice interrupt, causing you to immediately pull away from the boy in front of you. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably at Haechan's mortified face and Mark’s intense blush.

“Sorry,” Mark muttered quietly, smiling as he looked down at you.

Haechan walked towards the older boy, looping a hand around his shoulder as he spoke, “Y’know, I always saw this coming. She said she didn’t like you, but a best friend always knows,” you could only shake your head as Mark looked back at you as if asking for help. You could hear Haechan going on and on about his premonitions as you trailed behind the two boys, feeling a sense of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Mark was someone you could never see yourself with. He was loud, always distracted, obnoxious, stubborn, and mysterious. But he was also kind, deliberate, hard-working, smart, infectiously positive, and beautiful. You didn’t know when the thought struck you, but as you looked up at the brunette boy walking ahead you finally knew what you wanted. You wanted him by your side for as long as possible.

#nct #nct mark #nct mark imagines #nct imagines #nct dream #nct 127 #superm #nct fluff #mark scenarios #nct 127 fic #mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee x reader #nct au #lee mark #pls enjoy

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loversamongus · 4 years

Text

Friends, Fevers, Family Movies

a/n: first one shot for @fromthewatertribe‘s 1k follower event! This turned out to be A LOT longer than I expected and it was also originally for a whole other prompt??? And then just??? Evolved into this??? I knew I wanted to write something that featured a Sokka friendship (and a Katara one!) but also feature good ol’ Zuko fluff. So here ya go. Word vomit. TO CELEBRATE NINA BEING AWESOME.

Also important: written as a world without covid, but does mention the flu. prompt: go to bed, you idiot.

words: 2k

relationship: Zuko x reader

Sharing an apartment with your best friends has its highs and lows. On the bright side, you truly lucked out between the epic prank wars, overly competitive game nights, and the bureaucratic division of chore responsibilities. However, there’s also the constant paranoia that someone can jump out of your closet in a gorilla costume, the frustrated search for the last blue Sorry piece after a certain sore loser flipped over the coffee table, and Katara’s insistence on hand washing all dishware even though the kitchen has a perfectly good dishwasher. The three of you never experience a dull moment.

And you’re so grateful to be living with them. Sokka and Katara are your best friends but now it’s like having a brother and sister of your own. Due to the smaller size of the apartment, you and Katara share a bedroom but neither of you would have it any other way. Though you both have your own corner of the room, you’ll spend hours laying on the gray shag rug in the middle between your beds just talking.

“Today, at the diner, a man had the AUDACITY to call me ‘pretty girl’ and like, yes I am pretty but I don’t need an old coffee-breathed, wrinkly limp noodle to tell me that so I assumed he was just stating the obvious and that I should also call him by obvious nicknames in order to better communicate with and understand the customer, as my manager puts it.”

“And what did you call him?”

“When I came back with their food, he said, ‘Can the pretty girl also get us some mayonnaise packets?’ And I said, ‘Not a problem, ‘crusty man.’”

Katara tried her darnedest to flash you a severe look but couldn’t help choking on a fit of giggles.

“Suki approves of it and we spent the rest of our shift calling each other different names when we crossed paths!”

The rest of the night would linger on with more work day stories, giggles, and Sokka occasionally pounding on the door for you both to shut up already because he is trying to sleep goddamnnit and can’t do that while the apartment is filled with your shrill girlish squeals.

Finally, when you both struggle to fight off sleep, you wave the white flag and drag yourself into bed. But just before you drift off, you hear Katara whisper your name from across the room. You’re not even sure if she’s awake, you’re both so tired, but you answer anyways.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of Aang?”

“He adores you (yawn) it’s so sweet. I like him for you.”

There’s a silence and you think you’re free to finally fall into your dreams until Katara speaks again.

“What do you think of Zuko?”

“Hmm? I dunno, he’s our (yawn) friend and I like when he brings over (yawn) fireball for game night (yawn) why?”

Your exhaustion overpowers you before you could hear Katara respond, “Because he adores you, it’s so sweet. I like him for you.”

Although also your best friend, living with Sokka feels much less sweet and much more chaotic. Somehow you’re at each other’s throats more so than he is with his own blood related sister. It may have started when the Sock Battle started, a game in which Sokka made it his mission to hide his stenchiest pair of socks somewhere in your stuff. By now, you’ve found his socks in your pillowcases, in textbooks, in your gym bag, and in a picture frame next to your bed. You deliberately retaliate in any way you can during game night. While these instances often have you second guessing your friendship with him, you and Sokka could both put the bickering aside with a Disney movie and a bucket of buttered popcorn.

You could have killed him though when he gave you the flu. Katara was spared thanks to her daily regimen of vitamins and obsession with cleanliness, and Sokka had even recovered rather quickly. But you were not as lucky. Even though it was only the beginning of October, you had Katara dig out your flannel holiday pajamas to warm you up from the chills. The darling that she is, Katara made you her famous homemade soup and set it by your bedside table before heading out to see Aang. In the meantime, it was time for payback.

“Sokka, I need you to refill my water bottle.”

“Do it yourself.”

“Fine and when I get over to the kitchen I’ll lick every bag of beef jerky you own.”

“Oh my god, fine. Give me your water bottle.”

“Sokka, I need to charge my phone. Give me your charger.”

“No? Yours in your room, go get it.”

“If only my legs weren’t so weak from this terrible flu I’ve contracted from someone I trusted to be more hygienic.”

“Here, take it.”

“Sokka, you need to light a candle in the bathroom. Ooh do the rose petal one.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate yours and Katara’s girly scented candles.”

“Okay, but then don’t complain about the smell when you go in.”

“It can’t be that bad— OH MY GOD DID SOMETHING CRAWL OUT OF YOU AND DIE?! OH MY GOD IT’S TRAVELLING. IT’S TRAVELLING THROUGH THE APARTMENT.”

By the fourth day of having the flu, Sokka was sick. Not of the flu. Of you. Katara had been spending as much time with Aang as she could to avoid catching anything from you so the responsibility of taking care of you fell on Sokka. And he was finally reaching the breaking point after you left used tissues all over “his side” of the couch. You snuggled into your pile of blankets as you watched your best friend grumble about the living room, every so often glancing at you while muttering incoherently.

After picking up the last of your snot filled, flu infected tissues, Sokka stood in front of you and took a long, exaggerated breath.

“I am leaving this Land of Disgusting to eat at the diner before driving Suki home.”

“Sokka, you had me at ‘I am leaving.’”

“Shut up. You still have a fever so I’ve called in reinforcements to look after you while Katara and I are both out. They’ll be here shortly after I’m gone. Can you handle yourself for 10 minutes?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Before leaving, Sokka grabbed one more blanket from your room to bring to you on the couch. You realize how lucky you are to be such a pain in the ass and still be so loved by your little family. These happy thoughts, along with the utter amusement over the possibility of Toph being the one taking care of you, lulled you into a short, soft nap.

When you open your eyes next, the living room is dark, save for the small lamp in the corner of the room. As you go to stretch out your legs on the couch, your feet kick into something that wasn’t there before.

“Sokka?” you ask wearily, assuming your friend is back from dropping Suki off home.

“Nope.”

It wasn’t Sokka’s voice. Nor was it Toph’s. Trying your best to sit up under the weight of five blankets, you turn your head to see Zuko’s face illuminated by his phone’s screen as his thumb continued to scroll.

“Oh. Hi.”

He looked over at you. “Hey. Can I get you anything?”

It takes you a moment to get over the fact that Zuko is the reinforcements, the one called to take care of you while your roommates are out of the apartment. But finally you respond, “Actually, my throat is really dry. Can you grab my water bottle for me?”

He reached over to the coffee table to grab your water bottle for you. Then, after handing it you, Zuko went back to looking at his phone.

“Katara says you have to take your medicine once you’ve woken up.”

“Ugh noooooo. I don’t want to.”

Taking pills has never been your been your strong suit. Maybe it’s your irrational fear of choking on them or just your innate ability to be stubborn about everything but you try to put up your best fight.

“You have to. Or else we’ll have to cancel another game night or you just won’t be able to play with us. And then who would kill Sokka first in Among Us.”

“You’ll have to continue my legacy, that’s all.”

“Just take the pills. I already cut them up for you.”

“Fine... thank you.”

After you swallow the last pill, you lay back down on the couch but Zuko gets up.

“Where are you going?”

“Since you’re up now, let’s watch a movie. There’s nothing else you should really be doing in your condition.”

“I have my DVDs on my shelf in my room. Pick me a Disney movie?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh my god, please? I am very sick and frail and only the nostalgic joys of my childhood can cure me.”

“....fine.”

You muster up a squeal that quickly turns into a cough as Zuko leaves the room. After a few minutes he comes back with Toy Story 2, a choice that makes you raise an eyebrow considering its heartbreaking song is not something you’d expect Zuko to want to watch. Nonetheless, you hardly protest as the two of you settle in on the couch for the movie to begin.

To your surprise, the animated movie managed to steal a couple chuckles from Zuko. After all the bickering throughout the week with Sokka, it was a welcome and pleasant sound ringing in your ears. Despite your better judgment, you shift closer to him, especially when you know Jessie’s big song is getting closer. He doesn’t move away though and even wraps an arm around you. When a chill runs down your spine, you wonder if it’s due to the fever.

“Are you crying?”

“It’s just SO sad, how could you not, Zuko?! Somebody needs to LOVE HER AGAIN.”

Grinning, he hands you the tissue box, which you fully accept both for your tears and flu-inflicted runny nose. But once the song ends and you’ve let out a good cry, your eyelids start to feel enormously heavy. Zuko must sense this because he scoots a bit closer to you, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to pass the flu onto Zuko, but for some reason he feels warmer than the mountains of blankets you’re buried under.

The rest of the movie plays on and you struggle to keep your eyes open, often shifting against Zuko to wake yourself back up. You know there’s more to the movie but Zuko picks up the remote and turns off the tv. Before you could even question what he’s doing, he’s lifting you up and walking you to your room.

“But we didn’t see the end of the movie!”

“You weren’t going to stay up to see the end anyways.”

“But you needed to see Jessie and Bullseye find new homes! With Andy! And Wheezy!! Wheezy gets fixed!!”

He helped you under the covers and sat beside you on your bed for a moment. You still feel enough energy to offer up a few more protests.

“Only the end of the movie can cure me with its pure, unadultered childhood joy! You can use some, too! Disney fixes all things!”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but before getting up, Zuko leaned in to kiss your forehead lightly.

“Go to bed, you idiot.”

You didn’t even register when he left your side because you were asleep again within minutes. In fact, when the sunlight from the bedroom window wakes you up hours later, you could have sworn it was all just a fever dream anyways. Disney movies cuddled up with Zuko? Definitely sounds fake. However, later on in the morning, you do begin to suspect it was all real when you find your Toy Story 2 DVD still in DVD player and catching Katara and Sokka trying to discreetly give each other a high five.

#nina's 1k event #zuko x reader #lol what is consistent verb tense i do not know clearly

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ethereousdelirious · 3 years

Text

The bitch is back!!!! Finally!!!!

Fandom: C.ritical R.ole: E.xandria Unlimited

Characters: All except [spoiler for most recent episode]

Pairing: N/A

Tropes: College AU except with D&D races still

Summary: D.orian insists he's too sick to perform in the university's battle of the bands, then changes his mind and goes anyway. He was right the first time.

Notes: I was gonna take this in a different direction and make it longer, but I ran out of time and I really wanted to have it out today, so. Ta-da.

"I told you," Dorian rasped, pulling the covers over his head as if to shield himself from his friends' expectations, "I can't."

Dariax and Opal whined in tandem, nearly harmonizing through sheer, random chance. "C'mon, bud," Dariax pushed, "you're not that sick."

"Are you serious?" Dorian threw the covers off, the better to glare at his friend. "I have a 102-degree fever. I'm not doing it."

"A fever is good!" Opal said brightly, though her voice was a little muffled, as she was hiding the lower half of her face in her shirt to fend off Dorian's germs. "It means your body is healing."

"No, it means I feel like shit and I'm not going anywhere." Dorian huffed out a sigh that left his chapped lips stinging and scooted down the bed so he could lie down properly. His stuffed-up sinuses protested at the change, but he stubbornly ignored the throbbing and the post-nasal drip.

"Ohhh, I get it," said Dariax in a tone that suggested he very much did not get it. "So you'll come if you feel better?"

"Sure, Dariax." Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, wishing that his friends would take the hint and go away. Exhaustion made all his limbs feel heavy, made the idea of keeping his eyes open for even another second feel like the keenest of agonies. He shivered beneath his blankets despite the fever painting his cheeks an angry purple.

"You heard the man," Dariax said, turning to Opal. "Time to nurse Dorian back to health."

"You can't cure the flu in a day," Dorian said. The cough finally caught up with him and he rolled over, shaking with the force of it, covering his mouth with his hands. "Oh, god." He really felt awful and still, Dariax and Opal just weren't getting the message. Dorian flopped back over, gesturing weakly for one of them to hand him the glass of water on his nightstand.

"Sure, we can buddy!" Dariax, seeing Dorian reaching out, took his hand in both of his own. "Let's see, how about I go make you some awesome healing tea, and Opal can…"

"I'll get all that hair out of your face," Opal said. Dorian's gradient locks were stuck all over his face, black and white strands plastered to his cheeks and stuck to his lips.

"Great," said Dariax, making for the door. "Dorian, you're in good hands."

Dorian had never been more sure in his life that he was going to die. Leaving Opal to poke around his room for hair ties and a comb, he forced himself to roll over and grab the water glass. He was shaking so badly he could barely hold himself up to drink and even that slight movement took enormous amounts of effort. "Opal," he said, letting the glass fall as he flopped back onto his pillows. "If you're gonna stay, can you please--" He muffled a few explosive coughs behind his lips, sniffled. "Can you please get me some more water?"

"Sure!" said Opal, letting her shirt fall away from her face. "Maybe I should get you a plastic cup, though. 'Cause you don't wanna be cleaning up broken glass later if you drop this one. Do you have any plastic cups?"

"I dunno." Dorian hid his face in his hands, trying to rub away his headache. He had never considered Opal's voice annoying before, but now her words rattled in his head, drawing throbbing pain in their wake. "Orym might." That gave him an idea, albeit one he was almost too tired to pursue.

"I'll go look," Opal said. "Sit tight."

Dorian waited until he could hear the quiet sound of Dariax and Opal talking in the kitchen before forcing himself to sit up to search for his phone. He found it down by knees, thanking all the gods in the pantheon it wasn't dead, and sent a text to his roommate.

Dorian: IK you're at work but dear God pls come save me

Dorian: Dariax and Opal are here to "nurse me back to health."

Dorian: I May Die

Then Opal came back with a plastic cup of water and Dorian shoved his phone back under the covers like a guilty teenager. The subsequent adrenaline rush robbed him of his breath until he felt faint.

"Oh, good," said Opal, setting the cup down on the crowded nightstand. "You're already sitting up."

Dorian's head swam. He opened his mouth to tell Opal that he'd prefer to not be sitting up any longer, but the words came out as hissing rasp. He cleared his throat. "Oh, fuck."

"Don't worry, Dariax's tea will help your throat," Opal said. She knelt by Dorian's bedside and started combing his hair out of his face. Dorian relaxed despite himself, happy to be rid of the unpleasant sensation. Opal noticed and smiled. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Dorian said begrudgingly.

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone if you moan."

"Jeeze, Opal." Dorian went to bury his face in his hands, but Opal stopped him with a quick tap to the chin. "Head up. How about a nice braid?"

"Whatever."

Opal was gentle with her touches, working out knots with a practiced hand instead of yanking through them like Dorian had feared she might. If it wasn't for the uncomfortable position and the chill in his limbs, he might have even fallen asleep. "This is nice," Opal said, stroking the nape of Dorian's neck. "I never get to play with other people's hair."

"Mm," said Dorian, his head cloudy.

That was when Dariax burst in cradling a mug of tea in his hands like it was something precious, and not over-steeped Throat Coat. "I made tea!" he announced redundantly.

"Can I drink it later?" Dorian mumbled, blinking slowly. Despite having been asleep for most of the morning, he still felt exhausted and sore. "Wanna sleep." He coughed a few times, too tired to even turn his head, let alone cover his mouth.

"But then it'll be cold," Dariax said. "And I saw you shivering, so I know you don't wanna drink cold tea."

Dorian thought he might have a rebuttal to that, hidden deep beneath the layers of fever-fog. Whatever it wasn't he couldn't reach it now. "Good point." He held out his hands for the mug, dimly annoyed that they were both still shaking. "I really don't feel good," he announced in case it might help.

It didn't.

"We know, silly," Opal said. "Drink your tea."

"Meds?" Dorian asked hopefully, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his nightstand.

"Gotcha." Dariax shuffled past Opal and dropped two pills into Dorian's open mouth.

Dorian nodded his thanks and washed them down with a mouthful of tea. "What time is it?" he asked, grabbing a tissue from the box tucked into the corner where his mattress met the wall.

"11:30," said Opal, who always had her phone within arm's reach.

Dorian blew his nose and dropped the tissue over the side of the bed. He had no idea where his trash can had ended up and wasn't about to lean over and look for it with his head spinning the way it was. "Ugh. Fuck."

"Orym's not off until 3:00, right?" Opal asked, cottoning on.

Dorian nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Don't worry, buddy." Dariax reached out to ruffle Dorian's hair, but stopped after a nudge from Opal, who glared pointedly at Dorian's braid. "You'll be aaaall better by then."

Dorian was most assuredly not "all better" by 3:00. After finally getting Opal and Dariax out of his room, he had slept fitfully until they had gotten bored and come to wake him to see if he was feeling better. Around that time, his fever had gone up and he had clawed his way out of his hoodie and tossed it aside, a move he would come to regret when he woke up to the sound of his friends joyfully greeting Orym at the door and found himself shivering again.

Unwilling to speak, he let out a long groan, hoping that the sound of his misery would draw Orym to his room. But this only made him cough, aggravating his stinging throat and sore chest.

"Jeeze," said Orym from the door. Dorian looked terrible and sounded worse, and there was nothing anyone could do about it but wait.

"Oh, good," said Dariax, "You're awake!"

"Are you all better?" Opal asked.

Dorian ignored their questioning and looked Orym dead in the eye. "Please explain to them that I'm too sick to go to the stupid battle of the bands tonight."

"But we need you, Dorian!" Opal exclaimed. "No other band has an electric lute player."

"Oh, and Fearne's so excited," Dariax added. "She's been practicing extra hard all week on those pan pipes you lent her."

"Guys, guys." Even Orym's gentle tones made Dorian's head pound. "If Dorian says he's too sick to go, then he's too sick to go. We should believe him."

"What do you mean 'believe me'?" Dorian demanded. "Oh my god, you think I'm being a pussy, don't you?"

Orym hesitated for a fraction of a second too long before responding. "No, no, of course not."

"You do!" Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, mortally offended. "I don't believe this!"

"Hey, hey." Orym put up his hands. "It's okay. You don't have to go."

"Nooo," said Dorian, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm going." He stood up and staggered over to his closet. He had thought he was being responsible and proactive, taking care of his illness instead of pushing himself too hard. But the idea of his friends thinking he was sheltered, soft, weak was unbearable. His hand trembled as he searched through his clothes for something suitably impressive to wear, and a dim thought occurred to him that he might be acting irrationally because of his fever. He wasn't usually quite so concerned with appearances.

From the doorway, Opal, Dariax, and Orym watched. "Well," said Dariax, "that was easier than I thought."

"Yeah, Orym." Opal turned to him, impressed. "Where were you five hours ago? I could have gone home and watched The Bachelor."

"You still have" --Orym checked his watch-- "a good five hours."

"No, 'cause we're meeting Fearne for rehearsals at 5:00, remember? Once she gets back from visiting her grandma."

Dorian smothered a flurry of coughs into the crook of his arm, scowling when the colors of his shirts on their hangers began to blur in front of his eyes. "I need coffee," he announced once the fit was done, and marched off to the kitchen.

"Dorian, wait--" Orym said, but he didn't even pause. Orym looked between Dariax and Opal. "Is nobody else going to try and stop him?"

"Why the hell would we do that?" Dariax asked. "We've been here all morning trying to convince him to go."

"'Sides," said Opal. "You're the one who called him a pussy."

"I did not." Orym sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A sense of impending trouble prickled like static on the back of his neck. He really hadn't meant to make Dorian feel bad, even if he did think the genasi was being a touch melodramatic.

By the time they had finished with their pre-show dinner at Denny's, Orym sincerely regretted his harsh judgement of Dorian's condition. He had been quiet at practice, barely even saying hello to Fearne. She had given Orym a questioning look, and he had only been able to shrug helplessly at her. Dorian's cough got worse and worse all evening, culminating in a moment at dinner where he left for the bathroom and just didn't come back, leaving behind his mostly untouched plate.

Orym had found him leaning against the counter, breathing heavily and staring at nothing. The eyeliner Opal had so carefully applied was now smudged where Dorian had rubbed his eyes, and sweat stood on his brow. Orym had led him back to the table in silence after a few failed attempts at conversation.

By the time they got to the university's theater, Dorian could barely stand up straight. He was shaking so badly that his lute rattled in its case, and several passers-by did double takes when they saw him.

"Shit," said Orym, once they finally were backstage. "Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea."

"S'fine," Dorian rasped.

"I don't know," Fearne said. She studied Dorian's braid. "You're about the same color as your hair," she said, indicating the pale blue tips.

"Yeah, I think Orym might be right," Dsriax said, shifting uncomfortably.

Dorian had to pause and catch his breath before responding, struggling to keep his balance on legs that suddenly felt too weak to support his weight for much longer. "You said…"

"Yeah!" said Dariax, turning to Orym. "You're the one who called him a pussy."

"Nobody called him a pussy," Orym said. He would have liked to have reached out to steady Dorian, who was still swaying dangerously, but could only reach about hip height. "Opal, Fearne, can one of you please get him before he--"

Dorian's knees buckled. He hit the ground hard, holding his stomach. "Oh, shit."

Noticing a few eyes on them, Dariax stepped away and began to pace back and forth in front of the group, daring someone to say something. "Fuck off," he muttered, replacing his concern with aggression at no one in particular.

"What hurts?" Opal asked, her fear of contagion forgotten. She knelt beside Dorian and put a hand on his back, and even through his thick leather jacket, the heat that met her hand made her gasp.

"Dizzy," Dorian said through clenched teeth. In a whisper, he said, "Please don't let me throw up in front of all these people."

"That one's kind of on you, buddy," Dariax said over his shoulder. "Try to hold still and look at something that's not moving."

Dorian swallowed hard and tried to focus on a distant guitar case. It was difficult to do with his head still whirling, and his stomach gave a dangerous lurch. He took a few deep breaths to try to steady himself and only succeeded in triggering a coughing fit that drove him sideways into Orym's chest.

"We need to get him out of here," Orym said, staggering back under Dorian's weight.

"Give…" Dorian's voice faded out. He cleared his throat. "Give me a second. I can walk."

"Here," Fearne held out her hand. "When you're ready."

After a few cautious breaths, Dorian grabbed Fearne's hand and stood slowly, blinking away silver spots. "Sorry," he mumbled into her shoulder as they started to walk out.

"Ah, don't apologize," Dariax said, swinging Dorian's lute case along with his steps. "Maybe we shouldn't have pressured you to come."

"More like definitely," Opal said. "We're sorry. I really thought we could have you feeling better."

"It's fine." Dorian gave a weak laugh and forced himself to pick his head up off Fearne's shoulder. "You're not the one who called me a pussy."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Orym muttered, privately grateful that Dorian was still mentally present enough to make jokes.

They all piled into Opal's beater, Fearne in the passenger seat and the other three crowded in the back. Dorian leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.

#ethereous writes #sickfic

19 notes · View notes

vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

no service (gbd)

the boys do their first no tech challenge since you and grayson get together, and though they make it, something goes terribly wrong at home

word count: 5k

warnings/tags: angst, worried!grayson, hurt!y/n

feel free to send in requests! i’ll write most things! hope you enjoy :)

Your POV:

“I dunno, I just have a weird feeling about this one.” Grayson’s fingers were twisting and untwisting the hem of your shirt, his nerves evident as you laid next to him in bed.

“Gray you’re gonna be fine, it’s just like before. You’ve got the van, and you’ve done survival stuff. Everything is gonna work out. I am gonna miss you though,” you gave him a sad smile.

Since you’d started dating, you’d been attached at the hip. You still had an apartment of your own, but if you were honest you needed to just bite the bullet and sell it - you practically lived with the twins, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. But that also meant that this was going to be the first long-ish stretch that you weren’t with each other.

“It’s just 7 days baby, it’ll go by so fast.” Now he was comforting you, of course.

“You’re gonna have the best time, I can’t wait to see the video when you get home.”

“I’d send you pictures, but you know we won’t have our phones,” he sighed, running a finger along your jawline. “Not being able to see this face all week is gonna suck.”

You blushed deep red, warming his fingertips before you pulled away and crawled across the bed.

“Hey, where ya goin’?” Grayson pouted, but you ignored him for a second, going over to the dresser where you kept some of your clothes full time. You reached down, pulling out the little album that you’d been making as a gift for Grayson down the road. You pulled out one of your favorite pictures; from one of the first weeks that you’d been dating, it was the two of you with the LA skyline in the background, with you looking up at him as he smiled.

“Here, take this with you.” You handed him the photo. “I know E will probably give you shit, but just hide it somewhere. Make sure you bring it back though, that one’s my favorite.”

“I love you,” he responded, but you barely heard it, because at that exact moment Ethan was banging on the door and yelling “GRAY! C’mon it’s time to go!”

“And i’m going to kill my brother,” he groaned, reaching out and pulling you to him tightly, falling back on the bed. You landed on top of him, and his lips were on yours before you could say anything. He kissed you roughly for a minute, a bit of urgency there as he knew you weren’t going to be able to do this again for a while. Ethan knocked on the door again, and you felt Graysons arms tighten as he rolled over, putting you underneath him

“Go Gray, before he beats the door down,” you teased, pushing gently on his chest.

“I could just stay here with you,” he countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Go,” You giggled, pushing harder.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, kissing you again before getting up. “Alright E, I’m coming!”

You followed him to the door where Ethan was standing in the doorway.

“Finally get him to stop crying and leave?” E asked.

“Oh shut up,” you teased, pushing on his chest so you could get by. He followed you, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you headed out to the van, which you knew was already packed.

You stayed out of the shot as they filmed a little intro explaining what they were doing. Grayson was so much more excited these days in all the videos, but even more so in the ones that had to do with adventures. You watched as the locked their phones in the box they’d used before, storing it under the benches in the van.

Once the cameras cut, Gray made his way back over to you, wrapping you up in a tight hug.

“I love you. I’m gonna miss you so much,” he murmured into your hair.

“I love you too Gray. Be safe.”

“You too. Call Ricky if you need anything okay? He’ll still have his phone for emergencies.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

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

Grayson’s POV

His mind was already wandering as he continued driving down the road, already in Arizona. They were headed to Big Bend National Park, with the new challenge of not using their phones for navigation. Ethan was actually a good navigator, so once he got on the right highway it was just a matter of driving through Arizona and Texas, then down to the Mexico border to get to the park.

“I think all this footage is gonna be sick, and I’m excited to get some star shots once we get to the park,” Ethan said. Gray just nodded along, watching the road.

“You good bro? You’re off, I can feel it.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just have a pit in my stomach about this whole thing. It’s makin’ me anxious,” Grayson explained, fists tightening on the wheel of the van. Ricky was in the back, sound asleep.

“What about it though? Is it something specific?” Ethan asked.

“I can’t put my finger on it. I just have a weird feeling. I’m sure it’s nothing, I’m just in my head.”

“Is it Y/N?”

Sometimes, Grayson really hated sharing a mind. And this was one of those times. He stayed silent, which was enough of an answer for Ethan.

“She’s a fully capable person Gray. She’s gonna be fine without you for a few days.”

“Thanks asshole, I know. Just drop it.”

“Whatever,” Ethan shrugged, settling down into his chair a bit more, crossing his arms and getting comfy for the long trip ahead.

And a long trip it was. They made it to the park around 1am, and were amazed at what they saw. Above them was the whole milky way, clear as day.

They shot a quick clip explaining the main reason they’d come all the way to Big Bend.

“It’s a certified dark zone, which means no one is allowed to have building with lights out here. So theres no light pollution at all, it’s one of the best places in the world to see the stars,” Ethan explained. Grayson wasn’t paying too much attention; instead he was gazing up, and suddenly missing who he wanted beside him more than anything.

It was going to be a long few days.

Your POV:

The first four days were alright. You spent your time wandering around the house, enjoying all the space. You sat in Ethan’s comfy chair in the living room while you watched netflix, cuddled up in one of Grayson’s blankets from his bed that you’d dragged with you. It smelled like him, and it was comforting.

When that got boring you’d change into a swim suit, heading out to the pool - you’d given it a good cleaning, which you knew the boys would be thankful for when they got back. You were determined to get more of a tan than Gray by the end of the summer, and if you had any chance at all you needed to get a head start.

By day five, the boredom was starting to get to you. You wanted to talk to Grayson, see his face, see his smile, hear his laugh. You even resorted to going back and watching a few of your favorite videos of theirs, just to hear his voice. You felt pathetic while you did it, but you also couldn’t really bring yourself to care too much if you were honest. All throughout the day you caught yourself pulling out your phone to text him, but you knew he wouldn’t see them.

Still, you’d send a message just for fun, knowing he would see them once he got back and was allowed to have his phone. You could just imagine his face when he got back and saw all the little messages you’d left.

miss youuuuu

hey u should come home now, k thanks

I stole your favorite hoodie and you’re never getting it back oops

im gonna hide all your building stuff, that’s the level of boredom i’m at

this shit sucks

i love you

I wanna go on the next adventure :(

But as you sent the last one, it sparked an idea.

You could make your own adventure. Nothing was stopping you, and you had nothing better to do. The weather was nice, and there was supposed to be some good surf coming in.

And so, that was that. You packed up a towel, your wetsuit and some sunscreen, heading out to the car. You decided to take the Bronco, just because it had the surf rack on top. Grayson still wasn’t too keen on anyone driving his car, but he trusted you with it more than Ethan, and you knew he wouldn’t really care.

So you packed up your surfboard, struggling a bit to get it on top of the roof and strapped down - Grayson always made it look so damn easy. But you managed, finally getting in and heading to the beach. The drive was beautiful, as always, but you missed being in the passenger seat with Grayson’s hand on your thigh.

Damn. These last few days were gonna suck.

Grayson’s POV:

“I think we’re really getting the hang of this bro. I’m excited. We could do this full time, for real,” Grayson grinned, packing up a few things in the van while Ethan filled up the packs with water. Ricky was filming, so he took the opportunity to explain what was happening.

“So guys, today we’re going on the longest, and most difficult hike in Big Bend. It’s called South Rim, it’s about 14 miles total, but we’re gonna split it up and actually camp about halfway so we can get even cooler views tonight. Now, Ethan and I like to say we’re hikers, but honestly, we kinda suck.”

“Yeah, we uh, we’re not great,” Ethan chimed in.

“So this should be fun!”

“Oh yeah, great time.”

“And obviously we don’t have our phones, so we’re gonna have no idea what time it is, we won’t be able to call for help if we get, ya know, mauled by a mountain lion or something.”

“Bro, why would you say that!?” Ethan groaned.

“It’s the truth! Well, I guess Ricky has his phone though, so we’d be alright.”

“My phone hasn’t had service since we got here,” Ricky countered from behind the camera.

“Oh we are so fucked dude,” Ethan grumbled.

And in all honesty, it put a bit of a pit in Gray’s stomach, knowing he wouldn’t be able to contact anybody if something happened. But he pushed the thought from his mind, moving to help his brother pack up the tent and begin their trek.

Your POV:

The beach wasn’t too crowded, which was a blessing. When you said you liked to surf, it usually meant that you liked to catch 1 wave out of the 50 you tried for. You were a beginner, that was for sure. There were only about 20 people on the entire beach, and a few surfers out on the break, with the lifeguard keeping a close eye on them.

Even if you didn’t feel it, you looked the part in your wetsuit, board tucked under your arm. You snapped a quick picture, sending it to Grayson’s non-existent phone just for kicks.

wish you were here! you’d be laughing at how much I’m gonna suck. love you!

After it sent, you put it away in the waterproof box you’d brought. You made your way over to the lifeguard station, waving up at the man sitting atop the chair.

“Hey, I’m here by myself, do you care if I leave this box here with you?” You asked politely.

“Yeah that’s fine. Be careful out there,” he responded, not taking his eyes off the water. You put it down by the legs of the chair, jogging towards the water. The ocean was cold when it hit your skin but you adjusted quickly, diving in and heading out to the break.

And as you predicted, you missed practically every single one you tried to get up on. You hit the water over and over again, your arms sore from pushing up to standing, even if it was to no avail.

You began paddling in after about an hour, accepting defeat, when suddenly you noticed everyone beside you paddling out instead of in.

The lifeguard’s whistle came too late. By the time you turned around, the wave was already there, towering feet above any that had come prior.

And you were right in the break.

You’d read about these before. Rouge waves, you remembered. Random waves that come from nowhere, with no apparent cause. You had just enough time to suck in your breath before it crashed directly over your head.

It felt like the inside of a washing machine looked - that was the only way you could describe it. And then you felt something warm on your head, and everything went black.

Grayson’s POV:

It was the morning of day six, and Grayson had never been more ready to get home. The pit in his stomach was a rock now, and he had no explanation for it at all.

“Bro we’re actually disgusting. Like we need a real shower somewhere, or we’re never gonna get the smell out of this van,” Ethan said. And he was right. After all the hiking and sleeping in the tent, the three of them reeked.

“We could do a gas station shower, we just gotta map our way there without our phones. I don’t think that breaks the rules, we just aren’t supposed to use technology,” Ricky shrugged.

“Alright sick, we might as well start driving. Gray, you okay?” E asked.

“Yeah. Just don’t feel good,” he mumbled. He kept himself curled up in the back of the van, head resting on the table as Ethan found his way out of the park and towards the nearest town.

Grayson couldn’t figure out what was bothering him so much. He wasn’t dehydrated, he hadn’t eaten anything bad. He should be having the time of his life, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. It was like the time that Ethan had cut his leg open when they were kids; Grayson wasn’t near him, but he just knew. It was exactly that feeling, except Ethan was right there in front of him, perfectly fine. So he just kept his head down, hoping whatever it was would pass.

They found the gas station about 45 minutes later, and the three of them headed in eagerly. Maybe a good warm shower would clear his mind.

And once he was done, he did feel better. But only slightly. It was getting harder to breathe. He headed out, noticing that Ricky was already in the van and Ethan was waiting outside.

“Gray, dude you don’t look good. What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m getting sick man. I’ve been sick to my stomach since yesterday, and I feel like I can’t breathe now. Maybe I’ve got a really bad allergy to something out here. I’m sorry man, I’m trying to shake it so I can be up for the video, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.”

“Guys.” Ricky’s voice was serious, much more serious than normal.

“What’s up?” E asked.

“I just got service again, and I’ve got 12 missed calls, all from the same number. I don’t recognize it though. LA area code.”

“Call it. Call it now.” Grayson’s answer came before he could even think about it. He felt like he was going to hurl.

Ricky dialed it back quickly, holding the phone up to his ear. The twins climbed in the back, sitting down across from him at the table.

“This is he.” Ricky said. “Um, yeah, yeah he’s right here.”

Grayson’s blood went ice cold when Ricky held the phone out for him.

“It’s for you.”

He felt robotic and he reached out, taking the phone and putting it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Mr. Grayson Dolan?”

“Yes.”

“Hi Grayson. We’re just calling on behalf of Ms. Y/N Y/L/N from King Hospital, you’re listed as her primary emergency contact.”

“Is she alright? What happened?”

“She’s stable right now. We don’t have all of the details, she’s been in and out of consciousness. She was in an accident -”

“Accident?” Grayson’s voice cracked, and Ethan stiffened up beside him. As if it was instinct, he felt his brothers hand on his shoulder, anchoring him just enough that he could listen.

“She was out surfing at Manhattan Beach, the lifeguards said there was a rouge wave. They got her out quickly, but they think she hit her head on some rocks when she went under. She wasn’t breathing when they got to her, but she was stabilized in the ambulance. She told us to call Ricky off her phone when she was conscious because you wouldn’t have your phone. We’ve had her sedated so her brain could rest, but it looks like we’re going to need to take her in for surgery, because we found some deep lacerations on her head and want to check for anymore significant damage.”

“Surgery?” Grayson expected himself to go numb, but he almost had the opposite. He was so overwhelmed that it was crippling. “How soon?”

“As soon as we’re able. She isn’t able to give consent, so we needed to get in contact with you if possible. Are you able to get here quickly?”

“I’m - I’m not in the state, I’m in Texas.”

“Well, a telephone consent will do,” the nurse said.

“Oh. Okay, yeah. Yeah, I consent. Do what you need to, please just be careful.” It was dumb thing to say, he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Thank you Mr. Dolan, we will. And we’ll keep you updated. Should we call at this number, or the one you have listed?”

“The one I have listed is fine, I have it now.”

Ethan knew exactly what that meant and was immediately scrambling to find the box with their phones while Ricky got the key ready off his keychain.

“Alright, speak soon Mr. Dolan.”

And with that she hung up the phone.

“I’m gonna be sick,” were the only words that Grayson could manage as he crawled to the back of the van and hurled over the bumper. Ethan followed him, holding onto his shoulders and trying to stabilize him so he didn’t fall out.

“What do we need to do Gray?”

“Drive. We need to get home, now.”

Without further questions, Ricky climbed into the drivers seat as they closed up the back of the van, immediately heading in the direction of California.

When Gray finally managed to get enough air in his lungs, he was able to look up at Ethan, who was sitting opposite of him.

“Y/N’s hurt. I think it’s pretty bad.”

“Tell me what happened.”

And so he did, to the best of his ability. He didn’t have very much information, which was the hard part. But he told his brother everything that the nurse did.

“Well, if she was with it enough to give them Ricky’s number instead of yours, that’s good. That means she was alright when they got her in the ambulance.”

“Right. I wonder if she tried to call me.” The thought made his stomach tighten.

“Your phone was dead, it’s charging up front right now. Either way, we’re headed back as quick as we can.”

Grayson noted that the van was moving quite quickly - Ricky was definitely speeding, but he didn’t care.

“E.”

“I know Gray. I’m scared too. But she’s gonna be alright. She has to be.”

She’s gonna be alright

He repeated the words over and over again in his head, sometimes mumbling them aloud. A few minutes later, his phone was charged. Ethan climbed to the front to get it. Without having to ask, Ethan knew that Grayson wanted him to screen his texts, just to see. And he could tell there were texts from her just by his face.

“E. If she text me about all this and I didn’t answer, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

“She wouldn’t have been able to, she didn’t take her phone in the water. These are all from before.”

He held out his hand.

Looking at the texts was his undoing. He could hear her voice, clear as day in his head as he read them, making it all the much harder. He began to sob, uncontrollable ragged sounds. Ethan put an arm around his shoulder in silent support, as he often did. And Ricky continued down the road.

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

It was the longest 15 hours of his life. They’d checked to make sure it wasn’t quicker to stop in Phoenix and put Grayson on a flight - driving straight through was faster. But god it felt like it was taking years. He held the picture he had of him and Y/N in his hand, but he couldn’t look at it for too long without losing it.

Ethan was driving now, with Grayson in the passenger seat - he hadn’t been forced to take a turn, everyone knew he was in no shape to drive.

Everyone in the car was on edge, which meant they all jumped practically to the ceiling when Grayson’s phone rang. He answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Dolan?” It was a different voice this time.

“Yes.”

“Hi, this is Y/N’s surgeon, just calling with an update. Y/N is out of surgery, and she did great! No complications, and the damage seems pretty minimal, though we’ll have to see once she wakes up.”

He took his first real breath in the last 15 hours.

“That’s great news. Thank you.”

“So she’s in recovery right now, but she’s gonna be unconscious for the next 30 minutes or so. Should we be expecting you?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m headed there right now, I should be there in about 25 minutes according to my GPS.”

“Alright perfect. Well, she’s in room 828 on the post op wing when you get here, just sign in at the desk and we’ll bring you up. We’ll take good care of her.”

“Thank you so much doctor.”

“She’s alright. Out of surgery, should be waking up soon,” he explained as soon as he hung up. The relief was obvious, especially for Ethan. Gray had been so caught up in his own worry that he’d forgotten how worried Ethan must be - Y/N was practically his sister. Grayson watched as his brother pressed just a tiny bit more on the gas, racing towards the hospital.

When they arrived, Grayson couldn’t get out of the van fast enough. He bolted for the entrance, with Ethan in tow. Ricky stayed in the car out of privacy, offering to get them anything they needed.

They went through the motions of check in - something they were all too familiar with - and Grayson followed the nurse up to the post op floor, where he was transferred over to the nurse that had initially called him.

“She’s starting to stir just a bit. Just to prepare you, we aren’t sure how confused she’s going to be when she wakes up. With the mixture of anesthesia and her concussion, she may be very out of it. Just be patient with her, she should come around to her normal self within the next few hours. She’s right through here.” The nurse stopped outside the door, opening the door with a gentle push.

“You wanna go alone, or do you want me with you?” Ethan asked, hesitating.

“With me.” He didn’t have to think about it.

Grayson went in first, and if Ethan hadn’t been behind him, he probably would have fallen to his knees. Y/N was in the hospital bed, gown over her still form, her head partially wrapped in gauze. She had oxygen tubes in her nose and was breathing deeply, laying flat on her back, eyes closed. Just the image of her in the whole hospital garb was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He hated it more than he could have imagined.

Once he was stable enough on his feet, Grayson headed to her bedside. As he got closer, she started to stir a bit, fingers twitching as he sat down as gently as he could on the side of her bed. It was as if she knew he was there already, even though he hadn’t said a word or touched her at all.

“Mmmmmm.” She started to make a noise, her dry lips parting.

“Baby?” Grayson leaned forward, taking her hand in his, careful not to move her IV.

“Mmm- mad.” She mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Mad?” He looked back at Ethan for clarification, but he just nodded. Grayson raised a hand up to cup her cheek, and she smiled, resting her head in his palm. He revealed in the feeling, taking it in.

“Bronco.” This time, her word was clear, though it didn’t make anymore sense.

“Baby. Y/N, can you open your eyes sweetheart?” Grayson coaxed, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone.

“Tryin’. It’s heavy,” she said, scrunching her eyebrows. He could tell she was really doing her best, which made his heart squeeze a bit tighter. When she finally managed to lift her eyelids, he could tell she was exhausted.

“You’s gonna be mad at me,” was the first sentence she managed to string together, though all her words were drawn out and slightly garbled.

“Why would I be mad at you baby?”

“I drove the bronco, left it at the beach. Probs some homeless guy living in it,” she said, resting all the weight of her head onto his hand.

“It’s okay. I really couldn’t care less about the car right now.”

“Don’t say that, Ethan will be big sad.” She gasped then, sitting upright a little more. “Ethan! Hi buddy!” She had just noticed him at the end of the bed. She blinked hard, like she was trying to bring him into focus.

“Hey girly, how yah feelin?”

“Got a cracked skull, but i’ms okay. But guess what?”

“What?” He asked.

“Still smarter than youuuuu,” she shrugged, and Grayson couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

She really was back to normal.

“You want me to go get the car?” Ethan asked, sitting on the opposite side of her bed and for once, choosing not to throw a comeback. He really had been worried.

“I don’t have keys. Or my phone. I left em with the lifeguard,” she pouted, her lip curling down. If it wasn’t so pitiful, he would have found it adorable.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it,” Grayson reassured her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

The nurse came in then to check on her. Ethan moved out of her way, and Grayson was about to move away, but Y/N grabbed his hand, using all her strength to hold him there.

“Don’t go,” she whimpered, and he swore he could feel a piece of his heart crack.

“I’m right here, just getting out of the nurses way,” he promised, kissing her hand and standing next to the bed.

“You guys are fine, I’ll let you know if you’re somewhere I need to be,” the nurse smiled. “How’re you feeling Y/N?”

“Sore, but okay.”

“Well, you’re a trooper. I’ve never seen anyone come out of anesthesia so clear headed before. Now, you might get confused in a little while, but that’s just the concussion, and it’ll pass, okay? Just gotta give it time. You just rest and give your body some time to heal. You should be ready to rock and roll out of here in the next few days, okay?”

“M’kay. Is my phone lost forever?” She asked.

“Actually the lifeguard that pulled you out dropped off your box with your things earlier. It’s over there with your other belongings.”

Grayson made a mental note to find that guy and thank him profusely in the future. Ethan went over to the personal items bag, bringing it over to the bed. Y/N started to rummage through it, pulling things out one by one.

When she got her wetsuit out - which took some effort - she frowned, running her finger over the new cut that Grayson assumed was made by the paramedics. He tried as hard as he could to not picture what the ambulance looked like when that cut was made.

“They cut it,” she pouted. “That was my favorite one.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Grayson reassured her.

“M’kay,” she mumbled, satisfied. She cuddled down a little bit into her pillow, obviously exhausted. Grayson continued going through the bag, getting the keys and her phone out of the box.

“I’m gonna get the car before it gets towed. Give you all a minute,” Ethan said quietly, having a hand out for the keys.

“Thanks bro. I’ll keep you updated.”

He was extremely grateful, but he couldn’t find the words. He hoped Ethan knew.

“Gray,” Y/N said quietly.

“Hey baby, I’m right here.”

“M’tired,” she murmured, holding a hand out. “Can we sleep?”

“You can sleep sweetheart,” Grayson reassured her.

“C’mere. Come up here,” she said, patting the bed next to her.

Grayson obliged, sliding his arms under her knees and behind her back, scooting her over just enough so that he could slide into the bed beside her.

“Much better. I missed you. Maybe don’t go for so long next time,” she said, curling up against him and getting as close as she could.

“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you for a long, long time.”

“Sounds good to me,” she mumbled, but she was already falling asleep before the end of the sentence. So Grayson held her close to him, relishing in the feeling and lulling off to sleep.

#I really love this #I watched too many of their survival videos haha #lynds writes #grayson imagine #grayson imagines #grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twin imagines #ethan dolan

490 notes · View notes

eurydicees · 4 years

Text

for @falling-pages! it’s probably a bit ooc and not super funny but i had so so much fun writing this, and i hope you enjoy!

the great escape

summary: the hosts go to an escape room. they break up into two teams, each competing to get out first. it goes... less than stellar. but also, they have fun anyways.

(group a: tamaki, hikaru, and karou. group b: kyoya, haruhi, honey, and mori.)

pairings: none

words: 2586

warnings: none

GROUP A: 1 HOUR TO GO

“You said today would be fun,” Hikaru mumbles, stepping into the locked room.

“It will be,” Tamaki says, insistent. He turns to the ground with a grin. “Alright, we have an hour to get out of here.”

Kaoru sighs, looking around the room that they’ve just entered. It’s small, built to look like the living room of a simple house. “Let’s just try and get out of here before I start getting claustrophobic.”

“That’s the right attitude,” Tamaki says brightly.

“Sure,” Kaoru says, not really paying attention. He steps farther into the room, beginning to walk around the edges. He runs his hand over the frame of a chalkboard. On the board is a “who am I?” riddle.

Tamaki frowns at it. “What is that?”

“It’s probably a clue,” Hikaru says, not looking at it. Instead, he’s looking at a cabinet. He jiggles the handle, but it’s locked by some kind of panel of light up colored buttons. “Everything is a clue.”

“Not to be dramatic or anything,” Kaoru says. “Now, where do we start?”

Tamaki shrugs. He starts wandering the room, picking up the little knick knacks pressing random spots on the wall. “I dunno. Are there buttons, or something— oh! Secret passageways? Bookshelves that are actually doors?”

“There aren’t any bookshelves, boss,” Hikaru says. He’s abandoned the cabinet to instead look at a safe that sits on a table next to the couch. Instead of numbers, the keypad is made up of nine buttons with little shapes marked on them. “I bet the key is in here.”

“So what’s the code?” Tamaki asks.

“If I knew that, I would have opened it already.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tamaki hasn’t lost his grin. Instead, he joins Hikaru and Kaoru to look at the safe. “So, let’s figure out the code. It’s a bunch of— shapes? Triangles?”

Hikaru nods, pressing the keys at random. “It’s a number combination— or, a shape combination. We just have to guess the right one.”

“Do you have any idea how many combinations there are?” Kaoru asks. He turns away from the safe, looking around the room. “There’s got to be a clue somewhere. Guessing is going to take too long.”

“We have an hour,” Tamaki points out. “Let’s get to guessing!”

GROUP B: 1 HOUR TO GO

“Okay,” Kyoya says, stepping into the escape room. Haruhi, Honey, and Mori follow him, the door clicking shut and the lock catching just as Mori steps in. “We have an hour to escape.”

“This should be fun!” Honey says brightly, looking around the room. “It can’t be too hard, right?”

Haruhi smiles at him, beginning to walk around the room. They’re in a living room, one that was advertised to be identical to a second escape room, where the rest of the hosts are. The first one out, the group had decided, is the winner and gets to choose the cosplay for the next week. Haruhi has very little faith in Group A.

“We should just start by looking around,” Kyoya instructs, “and figure out what we have at our disposal.”

“Kyoya, this is supposed to be fun,” Honey says. “Relax a bit.”

Kyoya glares at him, the light catching on his glasses and sending shadows over his cheeks. “I’ll relax when we’re not in a locked room.”

“Oh hey,” Haruhi calls out, having stopped at the safe by the couch. “I bet the key to the door is in here. Looks like there’s some sort of combination. It’s made of shapes, though, not numbers.”

“What shapes?” Kyoya asks.

Haruhi glances back down at the safe. “Square, triangle, rectangle, hexagon, circle, pentagon, an arrow, a heart, and— a weird blob-like thing.”

“I think it’s a flower,” Honey says, standing next to her.

Mori stands next to them, peering over Haruhi’s shoulder and frowning. “Maybe a sun?”

“I can see that,” Haruhi says, tilting her head and squinting. “It’s so small, though.”

“Does it really matter?” Kyoya asks, turning away from them. He’s standing by a closet, and he pulls at the handle a couple times, testing it. “This is locked as well.”

“One of them has to have the key,” Honey decides. “We just have to figure out the codes. There’s got to be clues somewhere.”

Kyoya nods, dropping his hand from the knob of the closet. He turns back to the group, then looks around the room. “Okay, so we each take a side of the room— look for keys, buttons, puzzles, anything might help.”

Haruhi grins. “We’re definitely going to win.”

GROUP A: 45 MINUTES TO GO

“We’re definitely going to lose,” Hikaru groans, dropping his head against the safe. He’s been pushing buttons in random combinations for the last fifteen minutes, while Tamaki and Kaoru wander around the room, searching for other things to play with. “This is terrible.”

“Oh this is fun,” Tamaki says, looking at a locked jewelry box and ignoring Hikaru. “More locks!”

Kaoru glances over from the other side of the room. “Any keys over there, though?”

Tamaki seems to deflate at that, shoulders slumping. “No, no, and no. Aaaaaahhhhhhhh.”

“Okay then, Detective Tamaki, that is not helpful.” Hikaru lifts his head to find Tamaki sitting in the corner, the gloom and disappointment practically radiating off of him. “Come on, boss, pull yourself together. You sound like a bad acapella singer who just lost a competition.”

Kaoru snickers. “He can’t find the right key to sing in.”

“I thought he was confident in us,” Hikaru says, a grin coming over his face, his eyes suddenly bright. “I thought he was a believer—”

“—but then I saw his face,” Kaoru sings.

“I hate you both,” Tamaki mutters. But he’s perked up, smiling, turning to the jewelry box with a renewed vigor.

GROUP B: 45 MINUTES TO GO

“I think I found something,” Haruhi calls out, the excitement coming out in the wide grin she sends Kyoya. “Here, there’s something rattling in this jewelry box.”

Honey walks over to her and she hands the box over to him, so he can shake it. Something rattles— it’s small, but makes an audible clinking sound. “Could be a key.”

Mori, standing at the other side of the room, gives a shout, not very loud, just enough to get their attention. “I got it.”

Honey bounces over to him. “Great job, Takashi!”

Mori just nods. He pulls open the cabinet door. “You just switch the colors of the buttons to the colors of the painting over there.”

They all turn to look at the painting; a modern art piece with a series of stripes in different colors. They match the colors on the lock that Mori had just opened.

“Awesome,” Haruhi says, a grinning spreading over her face. “What’ve we got inside?”

Honey reaches into the small cabinet. “It’s a… plastic triangle?”

He hands it off to Kyoya, who has joined him at the cabinet. Kyoya turns it over in his hand, fingers running over the blue plastic. “There’s a number on the back— three.”

They all ponder that for a moment, looking around at each other.

Honey frowns. “Triangle. Three. Plastic. Blue. What?” Then he starts laughing— “Oh, of course! It must be the third shape in the lock to the safe.”

“I bet,” Kyoya says slowly, looking down at the triangle, “that if we open the rest of the locks, we’ll find three other shapes with three other numbers—”

“ — and that’ll be the code to the safe,” Haruhi finishes. “Brilliant.”

“Let’s get working,” Kyoya says. He’s smiling.

GROUP A: 25 MINUTES TO GO

“I got it!” Kaoru yells, making everyone else wince.

“What is it?” Tamaki asks, walking over. He’s still holding the jewelry box, no progress having been made in opening it.

Kaoru pulls open a drawer that had been hidden in a desk at the corner of the room. “The lock was a word— the answer to that riddle over there.”

“What riddle?” Hikaru stares at the drawer, pulling it open. “Ooooh, this is new.”

“On the chalkboard, next to the weird painting with the lines.” Kaoru picks up the object in the drawer— a small plastic square. He turns it over to find the number one etched into it. “What do you think this means?”

Hikaru reaches over, taking the square away from Kaoru. He runs his finger over the number, feeling the hills and valleys of the carving. “Maybe it’s the code to the safe— like the square is the first key to push when opening the safe.”

“Hikaru,” Tamaki says, “I’m going to hug you now.”

GROUP B: 25 MINUTES TO GO

“We’re running out of time,” Honey moans. “And we’re no closer.”

“We’ve got three of the shapes,” Haruhi says, shrugging. “We’re doing fine, I think.”

Kyoya fiddles with the lock on a drawer. “We’ve got two, three, and four. We still need the first number. Arguably the most important one.”

“Key word being arguably,” Haruhi says. “You’re too stressed, we just have that one drawer left. What’s the riddle again?”

Honey glances over to the chalkboard, hanging next to the door. “I have branches, but no fruit, trunk or leaves. What am I?”

“Branches,” Honey says, flopping down on the couch. “Fruit. Gross. Trunk. Leaves. What? Branches. Fruit. Tru—”

“Repeating it isn’t helpful,” Kyoya snaps.

“I’m just trying to help,” Honey protests, rubbing at tired eyes. Mori puts a hand on his shoulder and Honey just sighs. “Okay, Kyoya, what do you think?”

Kyoya sighs, head falling back to stare at the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut. He’s quiet for a few moments, nose scrunched up. Then he opens his eyes, chin dropping. “I have no idea.”

“Wow,” Haruhi teases, “Kyoya doesn’t know something.”

“I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident,” Kyoya says dryly.

Haruhi just rolls her eyes. “Let’s just think about this. What has branches?”

“Trees,” Honey says. “Plants.”

“Businesses!” Haruhi yells, voice much louder than she had meant it to be. She snaps her fingers, staring at the keys on the lock, tapping her chin. “What corporations are four letters long?”

They’re all quiet, looking at each other. No one says anything.

GROUP A: 10 MINUTES TO GO

“We’re screwed,” Hikaru says, glaring at the clock. The offending clock ticks on, ignorant to Hikaru’s frustration. “We’re absolutely screwed.”

“Incorrect!” Tamaki says, raising a hand. “We’ve got two of the four shapes, we just need two more! We can—”

Kaoru sighs, and that’s enough to cut him off. “We’re not any closer to figuring out the other two locks, boss. We’ve got nothing.”

“Well, maybe if we stopped arguing—”

“We’re not arguing—”

“Just cooperate—”

“Kaoru—”

“I’m gonna—”

“Stop it! This is about working toge—”

“Kaoru—”

“Stop arguing!” Kaoru yells. Tamaki and Hikaru stop, turning to look at him. “We’re not gonna get anywhere if we keep arguing. Just think.”

“We could probably just guess the last two numbers,” Hikaru points out. “There’s only so many combinations.”

Tamaki wrinkles his nose. “But that’s not how the game works.”

“It is when you only have ten minutes left.” Hikaru walks over to the safe, starting to punch in random combinations of shapes. “Okay, well, it’s not square/heart/rectangle/blob. It’s not square/heart/circle/arrow.”

“You could at least do this methodically,” Kaoru says, joining him. He starts pushing at the numbers too. “It’s not square/heart/rectangle/circle. It’s not square/heart/rectangle/arrow, either. It’s not—”

“You’re never going to get it like that,” Tamaki says with a sigh. He turns over to the nearest puzzle— the cabinet with colored lines. If you push the key up, you get different colors. He’s pretty sure he just needs the right of colors, but he has no idea how to get that combination. “We only have ten minutes left, guys.”

GROUP B: 10 MINUTES TO GO

“I got it!” Kyoya says, an exclamation louder and more excited than Haruhi had ever heard him before. “Try BANK. It’s not a tree, so not fruit, trunk, or leaves. But it has different branches.”

Haruhi punches in the numbers. The four of them wait in a strained silence, hopeful, all of them leaning forward on their toes, waiting. Then— the lock clicks. They let out a breath. Haruhi, carefully, slowly, opens the door, drawing out the last shape.

“It’s a square!” she shouts.

Honey runs over to the safe: he punches in that four squares, and then tugs at the handle.

It opens.

Inside, is the largest key that any of them have ever seen. It’s ornate, more decorative than anything else, but Mori grabs it and shoves it in the door. With a little bit of rattling, the door, slowly, so slowly, opens.

GROUP A: 3 MINUTES TO GO

“Well,” Tamaki says, sitting down on the couch. He stares up at the ceiling. “This has been fun.”

Hikaru laughs— not cruelly, but genuinely entertained. “I hope the other group is just as stuck as we are.”

“You know they aren’t,” Kaoru says, sighing. “Think about who’s in that group.”

Hikaru sighs, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. He sits down on the couch next to Tamaki, their shoulders pressed together. “We probably could have taken this a bit more seriously.”

“Probably,” Tamaki admits. “Turns out that an hour is actually not that much time.”

“Who would have thought?” Kaoru sits down on the couch, Tamaki between him and his brother. He presses himself against Tamaki, nudging his shoulder. “We tried.”

“We kind of tried,” Tamaki says. He smiles, though, pushing back against Kaoru. “Do you think they’ll really lock us in here forever?”

Hikaru laughs. “You know that they have Game Masters who have been watching us the whole time, right?”

“Wait, what?” Tamaki frowns. “The whole time?”

“Yeah,” Hikaru says with a nod, “just in case something goes horribly wrong. You can also ask for hints if you need them.”

Tamaki stares at him, face blank. “You mean that we could have been asking for hints this whole time?”

“Pretty much,” Kaoru says, shrugging. “But that’s not as much fun.”

Tamaki leans back against the couch as the alarm rings, their time being up. “Damn it.”

GROUP B: 3 MINUTES TO GO

Kyoya, Haruhi, Honey, and Mori stumble out of the escape room and into the hallway. Haruhi and Honey are laughing, Honey gripping onto her arm with a bright smile.

“We deserve a reward,” Honey says with a giggle, “I vote for cake tonight.”

“I vote for two pieces of cake,” Haruhi says. Her eyes are bright, excited.

Even Kyoya is smiling. “And we get to choose the theme for next week.”

“We do?” Haruhi asks. “How did the other group do?”

Mori points towards their door, where one of the Game Masters has a key and is letting out a sheepish Tamaki, the twins behind him, rubbing the backs of their necks in unison. “They got stuck.”

GROUPS A and B: 30 MINUTES LATER

They’re sitting in a pizza place, laughing over the three pepperoni pizzas that they’ve ordered. Honey had objected to broccoli, and Tamaki had demanded something more than just cheese, both of them agreeing on pepperoni. They’re all reaching over each other, grabbing food, laughing, pointing at each other.

Haruhi glances around the group, eyes settling on the other hosts for a moment each. She can’t help but love them all. Honey catches her eye, face red with laughter. “Are you okay?” he mouths. She just nods, and smiles. Yeah, she’s okay.

#my writing #ohshc #ohshc fanfiction #ohshc fic #ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club fanfic #tamaki suoh #haruhi fujioka #kyoya ootori #takashi morinozuka #mitskuni haninozuka #hikaru hitachiin #kaoru hitachiin

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

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Written In The Stars CXIX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

Words: 3,473

Series’ Masterlist

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Listen to: ‘Like To Be You’ -by Shawn Mendes ft. Julia Michaels

Chapter Seventeen: Resolutions.

"So here's the plan," Mel whispered to Hermione as they followed Hagrid deeper into the forest, "if things get out of control, make sure everyone goes back safely and I obliviate them as soon as we reach the castle..."

"Don't be stupid," Hermione said. "Now's not the time for jokes. Oh, I really hope Hagrid knows what he's doing!"

"Gather roun', gather roun'," said Hagrid. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me..."

He let out a high-pitched shout and everyone stood there in anxious silence waiting to see what would happen. Mel's ears picked up the sound of dead leaves crunching, even though no one seemed to be moving. She heard a quiet huff and a few branches breaking.

"Why doesn't Hagrid call again?" Ron whispered beside her.

She felt someone press against her and she jumped lightly, Neville had found his way towards her and now was tightly gripping her arm. He was staring at some point a few feet away from them. That's when she remembered something from the first night back in the castle, when Harry had mentioned something about... what was it? A horse?

She turned to look at him, Harry was eagerly looking around, trying to see if someone else was noticing. Mel spoke up.

"What are they?" It had been a long time since she'd heard her own voice sounding so frightened.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Now... put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

A total of three people raised their hands. Neville, Harry, and a Slytherin boy.

"Yeah... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry," Hagrid grumbled. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An' —"

"Excuse me, but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?" Malfoy sneered.

Mel watched the meat Hagrid had thrown onto the grass as it was ripped off piece by piece by some invisible creature, Parvati gasped.

"What's doing it? What's eating it?" She asked in terror.

"Thestrals," said Hagrid. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows — ?"

"But they're really, really unlucky!" Parvati exclaimed. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once —"

"No, no, no! Tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! 'Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate — an' here's another couple, look —"

Parvati yelped. "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!"

"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," Hagrid smiled. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' you can see them an' some can't?" Hermione raised a hand. "Go on then."

"The only people who can see thestrals are people who have seen death."

Mel should've known that a creature with such fame had to be related to death. Still, far from scared, Mel was intrigued, she knew what it would take to be able to see them, and yet, part of her wished she could.

"Tha's exactly right. Ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, thestrals —"

"Hem, hem." An unpleasant tension settled on Mel's shoulders. Umbridge had arrived. "Hem, hem."

"Oh hello!" Hagrid beamed.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning? Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

Mel didn't like the way Umbridge talked to him, she clenched her fists and took a deep breath.

"Oh yeah! Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see — or, I dunno — can you? We're doin' thestrals today —"

"I'm sorry?" Umbridge dramatically leaned forward and put a hand on her ear. "What did you say?"

Mel gripped the hand that Neville kept firmly around her forearm.

"Er — thestrals!" Hagrid repeated loudly. "Big — er — winged horses, yeh know!"

Hagrid flapped his arms as if they were wings, Umbridge quickly started to write that down.

"'has... to... resort... to... crude... sign... language...'"

"Well... anyway..." said Hagrid, blushing a little. "Erm... what was I sayin'?"

"'Appears... to... have... poor... short... term... memory...'"

She hadn't been so rude to any of the other teachers and Mel was wondering exactly why was she giving Hagrid such a terrible time when it came to her. Of course, she hated Hagrid, at this point everyone knew he was a half-giant and Umbridge was the biggest piece of racist rubbish she'd ever met, she wanted to get rid of him.

"Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk" She pretended to walk. "among the students... and ask them questions."

"Neville," Mel whispered. "I need you to let go of my arm."

"Why?"

"Because if I blow up, I don't want to get you in trouble," She growled.

"Do you find that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?" Umbridge asked out loud to Pansy.

"No... because... well... it sounds... like grunting a lot of the time..." Pansy was shaking with silent laughter.

"Don't do it, Mel!" Neville warned her. "If you get in trouble you won't be able to attend the D.A. this week!"

"Er... yeah... good stuff abou' thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' senses o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go —"

"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malfoy.

Mel made a movement to reach for her wand and Neville gripped her arm with unexpected strength. That caught Umbridge attention, she walked up to them with a smile.

"You can see the thestrals, Longbottom, can you? Whom did you see die?"

"That's a personal question," Mel replied. "I don't think Neville has to answer that if he doesn't want to."

Umbridge raised a brow with disinterest.

"You can't see them, Miss Dumbledore, am I correct? Well, at least that's one mental detriment we don't have to worry about in you..."

"Excuse m—" Mel started, but Neville was quick to step in.

"My grandad," He retorted. "That's whom I saw..."

"And what do you think of them?" Umbridge acted like her insult to Mel hadn't happened.

"Erm," Neville glanced between Mel and Hagrid. "Well, they're... er... okay..."

"'Students... are... too... intimidated... to... admit... they... are... frightened...'" muttered Umbridge, scribbling it down furiously.

"No!" Neville frowned. "No, I'm not scared of them — !"

"It's quite all right," Umbridge patted Neville's shoulder and Mel glared at the woman wishing she could do something. "Well, Hagrid, I think I've got enough to be getting along with... You will receive... the results of your inspection... in ten days' time."

She lifted all her fingers, smiling in that cold way of hers.

"I'm sorry," Neville mumbled next to her. "I didn't want to..."

"It wasn't your fault," Mel said roughly. Neville flinched, and she immediately softened her tone, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze a little. "You did nothing wrong, Nev."

"That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle! You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again — she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dim-witted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother — and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all — I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but thestrals are fine — in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!" Hermione rambled as they made their way back to the castle.

"Umbridge said they're dangerous," said Ron.

"What does that bitter fat rat knows about magical creatures?" Mel spat. "I'm with Hagrid here, those are all superstitions..."

"Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves," Hermione nodded in agreement, "and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could."

"Do you?" Harry asked carefully.

Hermione winced.

"Oh Harry — I'm sorry — no, of course I don't — that was a really stupid thing to say —"

"It's okay, don't worry..."

"I'm surprised so many people could see them," said Ron. "Three in a class —"

"Neville was extremely sweet, helping Hagrid out and trying to keep me away from detention," Mel lowered her gaze, her fists tightly closed. "I'm so sick of that woman..."

"Weasley, we were just wondering," Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were walking up to them. "D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?"

"That's rich coming from you, you puny ferret— Did the beating Harry and George gave you whipped the memories of your lack of skill?"

Malfoy's smile faltered a bit, but it didn't vanish.

"Moody, are we?" He said. "I'd be too if I were losing my marbles..."

Ron made an attempt to move but Hermione and Harry held him back. Mel glared at the Slytherins as they walked past them.

"One day," She said through gritted teeth. "One day I'll get him... and Umbridge too."

"Peeves, this is my last warning!" Mel warned as the poltergeist attempted to strangle Ron with tinsel. "Go away or I'll make a fanged frisbee follow you for the rest of the year!"

Peeves stuck out his tongue but flew out of the Great Hall anyway. She was helping with the Christmas decorations, Flitwick had asked the prefects to lend a hand and so Ron and Hermione had been expected as well as Erick, though he had to keep his distance. Mel noticed he was more tired and jumpy than usual.

"You know, I have to admit it," Hermione said as she handed a few fairy lights to her. "I was worried about you dating Fred— Thought you'd get out of control, but you're getting better!"

"What do you mean?"

"She means you don't fight people as much as you used to," Ron replied bluntly. "By people, she means Harry."

"Yeah well, we don't talk at all," Mel shrugged. "Can we not discuss this? I don't feel comfortable discussing my love life..."

"I don't love talking about you snogging one of my brothers either," Ron scoffed. "Can't say I hadn't seen this coming though, I knew this would happen, Fred and George always flirt with you..."

"They flirt with everyone," She clarified. "They even tried to flirt his way out of detention with McGonagall once."

"That was different," Ron rolled his eyes. "They were joking then, with you it was clearly intentional."

"Clear, was it?" Mel snorted. "How come you're suddenly an expert?"

"I've always been good at it when it comes to you and my brothers," He replied matter-of-factly. "You were really obvious."

"You want to talk about obvious?" She glanced at Hermione to make sure she was distracted. "You really want to go there, Ronnie? I can list all the times you've been obvious..."

Ron's eyes widened.

"Either way," He quickly changed the subject. "Hermione's right. You're in a better mood now, and if dating my brother does that to you, then I have no problem with it."

"How kind of you," The girl replied distractedly

"You and I," Ginny sat down in front of her. "We're trying for the Quidditch team."

Mel choked on her pumpkin juice.

"What gave you that idea?"

"You have pent-up anger and being able to push someone out of their broom might help," Ginny smirked.

Mel lowered the book she'd been reading and thought about it. Hadn't she dreamed about trying out for the team a year prior? Well, yeah, but only because Harry said she could be a great addition. It didn't mean she was good... but it didn't hurt to try, though.

"Dunno, Ginny," She bit her lip. "I have so much to do already..."

"C'mon!" The girl insisted. "How many times have we stayed up till late talking about it? I know it's not exactly how we planned it, but we can't give away our chance!"

Hadn't she said she would find a way to get back at Malfoy and Umbridge? This was her chance, she could drag Malfoy's butt on the field.

"Oh, all right," Mel groaned. "But not a word of this to anyone! I don't want more people breathing on my neck, I have enough with them waiting to catch me and Fred snogging in the halls!"

"It's kind of weird how you never kiss," Ginny mentioned, a little giggle escaping her lips. "Never thought Fred wasn't into public displays of affection..."

"Oh, he is," Mel raised a brow. "But I refuse to give a show."

Most people were rendered speechless with Ginny's display, she had a natural talent. When it was her turn, Angelina asked what place she wanted.

"Er..." Mel shrugged. "I guess beater would be okay?"

"Really?" Angelina frowned. "You and Ginny are small and not too strong... the both of you are great options to be seekers."

"I suppose that's true," Mel looked back at her friend, who was watching from the stands. "Well, if you take both of us we can take turns to be seekers and beaters."

She'd meant that as a joke, but Angelina's eyes shone with excitement.

"You're right I could. You don't need to be all muscle to be a beater, you just need to have a decent aim... Okay, Mel, show me what you got and I might consider your idea."

First, she tried her skills as seeker and released the snitch at the other side of the field, throwing golf balls to distract her and see if she'd lose sight of the golden orb, but it was hard to miss its glint between a bunch of white dirty balls. She did this a total of four times. Nothing too impressive, two times the snitch was close to escaping, but she put up a good fight.

Then she was placed in the beater position, she was a bit clumsier with the bat and she didn't have the deathly aim George and Fred had, but she figured she could develop a decent one with time. It was up to Angelina though, Mel could only hope she hadn't looked like a complete idiot.

"Okay, gather round!" Angelina called after a few minutes.

Ginny and Mel stood side by side, holding hands and squeezing.

"Thank you all for coming," Angelina continued. "I've made a decision. It's my duty to choose those that did it best..."

Mel held her breath, already thinking about how the twins were going to tease her once they'd found out she'd been rejected.

"WE MADE IT!" Ginny was jumping around happily.

Mel was elated, she laughed loudly and let her friend do all the noise. She still couldn't believe she wasn't dreaming, she was part of the Quidditch team!

Officially, Ginny had the Seeker spot and Mel was beater along with Jack Sloper, but Ginny promised to take turns even if Mel had insisted on letting her take the spot completely.

"It's better this way," Ginny discussed. "If we practice in both, we'll be brilliant in more than one way!"

Mel was still flushed red and sweaty when she walked into the castle, she couldn't wait to find the twins and tell them the news...

"I'll go grab us something to eat on our the way to the D.A. meeting, keep going!" Ginny turned around and rushed to the Great Hall.

Mel kept walking, an easy-going smile on her face as she replayed the events of that morning, she felt herself floating, happier than she'd felt in weeks. Things were starting to get better, she was popular, and now she was part of the team, what else could she—

"Erick?" She watched as the boy appeared around the corner, his eyes glued to the parchment on his hands. "Erick, you won't guess what just happened!"

Forgetting all about discretion, Mel ran up to him ready to talk about the tryouts. Then, as she got closer, she noticed his face was strangely pale, and he was shaking.

"What's wrong?"

The boy looked up to her but his eyes were lacking their usual presence. His gaze was absent, when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out. Erick cleared his throat and tried again.

"I... I just got this," He said. "During lunch... I went to the owlery to send a letter to Joseph... though probably my parents sent a letter to my aunt as well..."

"What is it?" She insisted.

Erick blinked furiously, and it was then she realized he was trying not to cry.

"I... I have to..." He cleared his throat again and shook his head. "My grandad, he..."

"I'm sorry," She said, skimming through the contents of the letter in shock. "I don't know what to say..."

"Mel!" Ginny appeared again, holding two sandwiches. "There you are! C'mon, we need to hurry!"

Mel gave a start, but Ginny didn't seem to notice Erick as she ran up to her and caught her arm, dragging her away from the boy. Mel barely had time to return the letter before Ginny pulled harder.

"What are you doing? Hurry, the meeting starts in five minutes!"

Mel was going to protest and go back to the boy, she looked over her shoulder to call his name and realized he was gone, she didn't know how he'd managed to disappear so quickly. She let Ginny take her away, thinking that tomorrow she would hopefully have the right words to comfort him.

When they arrived at the room of requirement Mel had finished eating even though it all had tasted like cardboard. She was no longer excited for her new position as a beater, and she wanted nothing but to end the meeting so she could go and look for her friend. He needed her.

"Okay," Harry started. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break. What d'you think, Mel?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, desperately trying to remember what the hell Harry'd been saying. "Yeah, that's fine..." She replied absently, Harry stared at her with a small frown.

"We're not doing anything new?" Zacharias Smith asked in annoyance. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come..."

"We're all really sorry Harry and Mel didn't tell you, then," said Fred.

"We can practice in pairs," Harry continued, realizing Mel wasn't going to be helpful that night. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, just for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."

While the group divided into pairs, Harry pulled her away from the crowd discretely.

"Mel," He repeated, his tone urgent. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," She blinked. "I just... I ran into Erick a few minutes ago..."

"Did he upset you?" Harry scowled. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her. "He got a letter this morning... his Grandad... I just need a moment, I'll be fine."

"...You can leave if you want."

"They need me here."

"You need a break."

"Look who's talking," Mel said defensively. "Why do you care, anyway? You've been ignoring me for weeks, please continue."

Harry stepped back taken by her sudden outburst.

"Fine," He eyed her up, then added carefully, "...I heard you got a place on the team. That's excellent."

"Yeah," She said shortly. "I'm a Beater, like my mum."

"Angelina said you and Ginny were taking turns to be seekers. You'll be wonderful, I'm sure."

He was trying to be polite, he could see she was in distress and wanted to distract her, even if she was doing all in her power to upset him. Harry had to stop a groan from falling out of his lips, he had no idea of how to talk to her now, it was as if they no longer knew each other.

"You know," The boy continued over her silence, not knowing why he was trying so hard to cheer her up. "They've come a long way, haven't they? I think we're making a difference, even if it didn't look like it at first..."

Her eyes landed on Neville as he successfully managed to freeze Ron in place for a second time. She thought back on the little shy thing he used to be, and how confident he looked then. A small glimmer of optimism peeked through Mel's sense of hopelessness, and somehow, Harry felt it too.

"Yeah..." She smiled lightly. "I think you may be right..."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 46 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Pearl invited Adore to a party

This Chapter: Adore has a very bad week, the design team gets more cronuts, and Raven has a lunch date with her bestie.

***

“I don’t understand…”

It had been a great night. Pearl had picked her up, both of them dressed to kill, Adore’s hair freshly dyed an icy turquoise. They’d had dinner, laughing their asses off while they swapped stories about concert debauchery and their favorite bands, and then went onto the party. It was just hours of dancing and flashing lights and pounding bass, their bodies pressed together, chemistry electric like it’d been when they first got together.

Things were so heated at one point that Pearl dragged Adore off to fuck her against a brick wall, making her shiver and moan, fingers gripping the lapels of Pearl’s motorcycle jacket.

After the party, they’d gone to an all-night diner in DUMBO for pancakes, sharing sticky kisses, leaving most of the food untouched as they giggled happily, party drugs slowly leaving their systems.

And then lastly, they’d wandered over to the bridge, the best spot in the whole city to watch the sunrise.

It was then, snuggled in Pearl’s arms as they watched the sky slowly begin to brighten, the first faint rays of light turning a few clouds pink, when Adore carefully brought up the idea of being monogamous. If not now, she figured, clinging together under a cotton-candy sky, then when.

“This open thing, I just...I feel like it’s making me paranoid, you know?”

What she wasn’t expecting, not after a night like that, was that Pearl would immediately let go of her, shaking her head, saying, “I’m just not ready for that.”

Which brought them to the present moment.

“I don’t understand…” Adore began, eyes welling up with tears. “Didn’t you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, of course. I always have fun with you,” Pearl said.

“So then why-” Adore gulped as a single tear spilled down her cheek. “Why am I not enough for you?”

“It’s not that! You’re great. You are. There are just things I miss when we’re together. And I don’t want to make you a promise that I can’t keep.”

“Like what? What do you miss?”

“Like…” Pearl faltered. “Like, little lacy panties and kissing with lipgloss. Having a manicured hand in my hair while I eat a girl out. Watching an ass in high heels and smelling floral perfumes. Carrying her tiny purse-”

“So...I’m not femme enough?” Adore asked, head still shaking in confusion.

“You’re the one who asked.” Pearl sighed, pushing away from the bridge. “I like you, and it makes me sound like a douche, but, I dunno Adore. I’m a lesbian. I like girls. Sometimes-” Pearl looked over at her. “Sometimes you seem more like a boy.”

Adore swore she could feel her heart shatter, a wrecked sob leaving her. Growing up, one of her biggest sources of shame was not being enough of a “girl.” She never liked frilly things, she never liked the things her older sisters did, like ballet classes and fashion and shopping. She remembered being a kid, bored silly with the endless conversations about nail polish and push-up bras that she was subjected to.

When she came out, one of the best things was that a lot of those expectations were suddenly removed, lifted from her shoulders. She could make her own rules, and so she did. But sometimes, secretly, she still worried. She still glanced at her reflection when in a group of other girls, still wondered sometimes how she measured up.

Most of the time, she got plenty of validation--her friends praising her constantly, and even her sister’s lighthearted shade was affectionate, never failing to slip in a compliment. So she was able to curb her inner demons, really believe that she was beautiful and cute and lovable, even if she wasn’t the most feminine.

But today, hearing Pearl’s honest opinion...it was like someone confirming her worst fear. Like a boy. As she continued crying, her chest aching, she felt like even more of a monster than she ever had.

“C’mon, don’t cry.” Pearl didn’t touch her, and Adore was so thankful for that, as it would have made everything worse. “You’re a really cool boy, and it’s fun to spend time with you.”

“Just stop talking.”

“Let’s get a cab and head back-”

“You think I wanna ride in a cab with you right now?!” Adore asked angrily, swiping at her eyes, surely smearing her makeup even more. “Fuck you!”

“Adore-”

“Just go!” she exclaimed hoarsely, glaring right into Pearl’s tired eyes, daring her.

After a resigned sigh, Pearl muttered, “Whatever you say,” and turned, walking back towards Brooklyn.

***

Courtney had almost finished getting ready for work, putting the last touches on her makeup and looking for a pair of earrings both plain enough to be acceptable, but that she was certain she hadn’t worn in the last two weeks. She’d just pulled out a pair of small, inoffensive black hoops when her phone started buzzing, sending a wave of fear and nausea through her all at once.

It was barely 6:30, and getting a phone call at this time could only mean that there was some pending disaster for her at work--or worse, something she’d already screwed up. She reached for the phone with her heart in throat, stomach churning, only to see to her surprise that it wasn’t her work phone ringing. Brow furrowed, she picked up her old personal iPhone, wondering what could be wrong.

“Adore? Are you okay?”

“Pearl and I broke up,” came Adore’s shaky voice, hitching on the last word.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

“We had the best night, I thought things were turning around, and then she-”

What came next was almost totally incomprehensible as Adore tried to speak through her sobs.

“Where are you, honey? Do you need me to come and-”

“I’m on the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“You’re what!?” Courtney’s heart nearly stopped, panic rushing through her like a bolt of lightning.

“No, I’m…It’s just cause we were at a party here. Don’t-” Adore managed to chuckle drily through her tears. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

“I’m just gonna walk across and then like...I dunno. Probably go home and sleep all day. But I thought...maybe we could hang out this week?”

“Of course! Whenever you want, just say the word. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks. I’m sorry to...I know you’re probably heading to work, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You know you can call me anytime. And Dore?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Pearl was leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed, a constant throb behind her right eye.

Normally, she had nothing against the big glass doors and windows that let her entire team see her at all times, the installment of them her own choice, but right now, Pearl desperately wished she had a private office.

She was feeling absolutely wretched from last night, and if she was being honest, it wasn’t just leftover alcohol and party drugs that had her feeling like shit.

Adore had completely misunderstood, had refused to listen to her when she explained herself, the whole thing a terrible terrible mess.

It wasn’t Pearl’s fault that Adore had agreed to something she apparently wasn’t cool with, this whole situation only happening because Adore didn’t actually know herself.

Pearl crossed her arms, groaning, the lie comforting for a moment, but it was just that, a lie.

Adore had asked for honesty, but it seemed like Pearl had made a mistake indulging it. She didn’t know what to do, the guilty feeling new and unfamiliar.

“Pearl?” Pearl opened her eyes to see Laganja standing at her door, a curious expression on her face. “I need you to-”

“I don’t need to do shit until after you get me a coffee.”

“Okay boss?” Laganja raised an eyebrow. “Way to be a bitch.”

Laganja turned around and walked away, Pearl groaning as she slid even further down her chair, today going from bad to worse to terrible.

***

“Hello! Earth to Chachki.”

“Huh?” Violet looked up, Bob’s voice cutting through her thoughts. It was midmorning, Trixie coming into work with boxes of cronuts, a smile on his face as the designers had flocked around him.

Everyone had gathered at the couches, Violet’s stack of magazines she had already read in the corner, Maxwell asking if he could read them when she was done.

“Are you going to eat that?” Bob pointed at Violet’s plate.

“Oh.” Violet looked down, the pastry untouched. “Umh-” April had been kind enough to bring Violet a plate without being asked, her and Alexis sitting side by side. “What’s Trixie’s deal with these anyway?”

“With the cronuts?” Jovan looked over at her, Maxwell next to him.

“It means there’s a tough week ahead-” Maxwell waved his cronut around. “It’s kind of an apology in advance.”

“Ha,” Violet smiled, that statement so fitting with everything she knew of Trixie, the man downstairs in a meeting with Bendela.

“And the question still stands on whether or not you're eating that,” Bob nodded, his eyes still firmly on Violet’s cronut.

“Ah.” She hadn’t even tasted it, but Violet was not in the mood, Sutan’s question about Aspen still playing around in her head. “No.”

“Dibs then!” Blu grinned, reaching over the coffee table and snatching it from Violet’s plate.

“Hey!” Bob yelled, outrage on his face. “That was mine.”

“We can share it.” Blu smiled, breaking it in two.

“You guys,” Alexis rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee as she flicked to the next page. “Awww, look!” Alexis lit up, turning the magazine around. “Remember when Lupita Nyong’o wore my dress to the Grammys?”

“Gimme!” Maxwell reached out, snatching it from Alexis' hand and Violet leaned over so she could see too, Jovan inches away from her.

Lupita looked stunning in her dark blue gown, the flowy skirt making her look like a goddess, Alexis’ signature draping all over it.

“She looks great,” Violet said, “You should be very proud.”

“Thanks, girl!”

Violet looked closer at the page, grimacing when she saw Katy Perry’s weirdly unflattering, asymmetrical suit.

“Katy Perry, though, what an absolute mess. It looks as if Maxwell and Jovan collabed while on acid.”

The second the words left her mouth, Violet regretted them.

This was the first time she had spoken her mind around her new coworkers, the first time she had let out her most sarcastic and dry thoughts, her heart speeding up.

Jovan and Maxwell looked at each other, and Violet tensed, prepared for the angry response she was sure would be coming. But instead of snapping at her or putting her in her place, both men burst out laughing, the rest of the group quickly joining in.

This was unlike anything Violet had ever experienced in school, her peers not laughing at her, but apparently with her instead, the feeling completely new. No one giving her death stares or looking at her like she was a stain on a carpet.

“Omigod, draaag them!” Bob exclaimed, wiping his eyes.

“I-” Violet didn’t know what to say. As a child, she had kept her mouth shut, never saying anything, even when it got her in trouble. It had gotten better at the academy, her body speaking for her, but her classmates and coworkers had taken her silence as a judgement, her corrections of their work like attacks instead of the advice she had meant it as.

In college, she had just stopped giving her opinion all together, another girl leaving a critique in tears when Violet had shared her honest thoughts.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Just to be clear,” Maxwell smiled, “I refuse to have this color story pinned on me.”

“Oh girl shut up,” Jovan grabbed the magazine. “It’s not the colors that makes this terrible, it’s the fucking cut. Are you blind?”

“Anything but the neckline is fine.”

“Okay, so you are blind?”

“I think all of it looks like shit too.”

“BLU!”

Violet smiled, watching her coworkers argue, for once, feeling like she completely and absolutely belonged with them.

***

Bianca stepped off the elevator into her foyer, nearly tripping over a pair of studded black combat boots telling her that she wasn’t coming home to her usual empty apartment.

“Adore? Hello? Where are you?”

Bianca walked through the living room and dining room to the kitchen, assuming that’s where she’d find her sister, but there was no Adore to be found.

“Adore!”

She started to get concerned when yipping from the dogs guided her into the den, where Adore was curled up on the giant L-shaped sofa, buried under 3 blankets, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Adore looked up, blue eyes red and watery, lip quivering, and Bianca immediately softened at the sight.

“What’s wrong?” Bianca asked, although she had a pretty good idea already.

Adore rubbed her eyes and sniffled before saying, “Please just don’t say ‘I told you so,’ okay?”

“Aww, baby girl…” Bianca rushed to her side, wrapping her up into a hug and rocking her, rubbing her back, letting her cry it out. “I’m so sorry, pussycat.”

“I’m so stupid,” Adore cried into her neck, and Bianca shook her head vigorously.

“You’re not. Not at all. She’s the stupid one. Okay?” Bianca murmured against her temple.

“Do you have any ice cream?”

Bianca smiled slightly, brushing away a few of Adore’s tears with her thumbs. “I’ll have some delivered. Cookie dough or fudge brownie?”

“Both.”

“Coming right up.” Bianca pressed a kiss to Adore’s forehead and reached for her phone. The fact that things between Adore and Pearl had ended like this was no surprise, not to anyone with half a brain, but she still felt badly for her sister, would still do anything possible to help her feel better.

***

“Juju!” Raven stood up, smiling brightly as she watched her best friend make her way through the restaurant. “It’s so good to see you!” Raven pulled her in for a hug, breathing in the scent of the coconut oil Juju always used.

“Hi gorgeous!” Juju said, hugging her back, and Raven grinned, pulling back to take her in.

Juju looked amazing, her brown hair styled in her signature curls, her blouse of the day a satin lilac with a bow. And of course that bump, growing every day.

“Mama, how did you grow this much in two weeks?” Raven put a hand on Juju’s belly, a tight pencil skirt holding it in. She couldn’t feel the baby yet, but that didn’t matter.

“My best guess is curly fries.” Juju laughed. “I’ve been hitting up Arby’s on my way home from the salon every day, because I…” Juju framed her face with triumphant jazz hands, “am garbage!”

“That’s why we love you,” Raven giggled, pressing a kiss to her friend’s cheek before getting back into their seats.

Raven and Juju had been friends for years. Raven had liked Juju from the moment they met, Sutan putting her in Juju’s salon chair the second he had signed her for Elite, but they hadn’t officially clicked until she had started dating Raja.

Raven had never really had a best friend growing up, and she was so happy that she had Juju, even though they didn’t see each other as much as they both wanted to. Raven often visited the Sanderson household, spending her evenings there sometimes when Raja worked late--but with the twins, Detox and Kelly around, they rarely had time just the two of them. So as soon as the waiter came by and took their orders, she got down to business.

“Tell me all about your trip!” Raven said. “How’s the new location doing?”

“Oh man. I mean it’s going well so far, but could I have chosen a worse time to open up a new salon? I’m so busy already, and now this new kid. I’m a little worried.”

Juju’s New York salon was such a success that over the years she’d opened up several more locations: Los Angeles, Miami, and Chicago. And now, her latest one in Atlanta, opened just a month before she’d found out that she was pregnant again.

“If anyone can do it, you can!” Raven told her with an encouraging squeeze, remembering how hectic things had been after the twins were born. “Look at it this way...at least it’s only one baby this time.”

“Ha! That’s true. Anyway, so far so good. Plus it’s around the corner from the best restaurant I have ever been, in my life”

“In Atlanta?” Raven asked, stirring her iced tea, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, don’t be such a snob!” Juju laughed.

“Whatever you say,” Raven replied.

“Rave, seriously. I mean the food was good, but the desserts?”

Raven perked up, eyes getting bigger and bigger as Juju proceeded to describe a decadent chocolate mousse cheesecake and coconut bread pudding soufflé.

“Stop, omigod!” she finally interrupted, picking up her napkin to fan herself with it. “This is too public. It’s like watching porn on the subway.”

Jujubee laughed, clapping her hands. “Sounds fun! I’m gonna try that. Also...” Juju gestured to the dessert tray rolling by, piled high with confections.

“Ugh, I would push my grandmother in front of a bus for one of those!” Raven groaned, and Juju laughed again.

“So have one! You can’t still be on your runway diet, right?”

“No, I am. “ Raven sighed. “Galactica is doing that showroom thing for the holiday collection next week, and in December I have two swimwear shoots.”

Just thinking about it, Raven groaned. She was excited about the Galactica booking, showroom shows technically way below her level of modeling, but Raven took any excuse she could to work with Raja, spending time with her finacée more than enough reason to put up with the tedious task of playing mannequin for the day.

What was starting not to feel worth it, was the swimwear shoots.

Raven wanted the money, and she was happy she had work, but she couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving, Sutan giving her a mere 6 hours of carte blanche to eat whatever she wanted.

“I’ve been in the gym two hours every day, eating like, grass and leaves.”

Raja had been sweet about it, encouraging her and helping her, but her fiancée just didn’t understand, getting in shape and most importantly keeping the same shape never an issue for Raja, Raja’s measurements largely the same in her 40s as they had been in her 20s. Raven was just happy that Raja seemed to love her body no matter what, the grind of being perfect getting harder and harder every year.

“It’s been horrendous.”

“Aww, I’m sorry boo.” Juju reached over the table, squeezing Raven’s forearm. “If it helps, Kelly’s getting into cooking and yesterday she made us the most god-awful pancakes I’ve ever had. I didn’t want to discourage her so I had five.”

“How is you eating five pancakes supposed to make me feel better?!” Raven shrieked.

“They were terrible!”

“They were pancakes! Do you know how long it’s been since I had a pancake, you fuckin’ bitch?!”

Juju opened her mouth to reply, but instead, caught sight of the absolutely enraged expression on her friend’s face and burst out laughing. Soon both of them were laughing, clutching their sides, completely unconcerned with the number of Upper East Side ladies giving them the stink-eye.

***

COURTNEY: Hey honey, how’s it going?

ADORE: Well. Bianca is keeping the liquor cabinet well-stocked, so...counting my blessings.

COURTNEY: I really want to see you.

ADORE: Me too. Ditch work tomorrow and come hang out with me.

COURTNEY: Ha! I wish.

ADORE: Maybe Friday? Sleepover at my place?

COURTNEY: It’s a date. <3

***

“If you’d please direct your attention to the beading samples in front of you, I’ve made horizontal and vertical variations, the horizontal the pattern I’ve integrated on the bodice-”

As an assistant, Violet had been used to Fame’s steely blue eyes every single day, a squint, a lifted brow, the twist of a mouth more than enough to tell Violet everything she needed to know.

Now, it felt like Fame was a complete stranger, her boss sitting with Raja at her side, both of them completely impassive, Fame’s face not giving anything away.

“And it’s my clear conviction that that will be the best choice, the lines creating a more pleasant visual.”

Violet knew it wasn’t her outfit, her hair styled with a golden clip exactly like Fame liked it, her nails the almond shape and pale pink that was never a problem, her shoes the regulated height so Violet wouldn’t tower over Fame if they had to walk anywhere together.

“For the sleeves, I hope you’ll considered the flared options,” Violet twisted her mannequin, showing off the right sleeve that she had carefully attached with loose stitches to her dress, “But I’ve also done a more traditional slender-”

“Violet.”

Violet froze, looking over at Fame, her boss wearing a white sweater and white high waisted pants, the row of pearls on her Jimmy Choo’s matching her bracelet and earrings.

“That’s all.”

“Oh,” Violet felt her stomach clench, a flash of disappointment washing over her. “Yes Miss.”

Violet grabbed her mannequin, knowing defeat when it was staring her in the face. She had no idea what she had done wrong, Fame cutting her off mid sentence, all the other designers getting feedback or questions.

Violet watched as Alexis rolled up, the other woman instantly filling out the room with her personality, even making Raja laugh as she showed off the several garments she was working on.

Violet swallowed her disappointment, breathing through her nose as she left the meeting room, her nails digging into her palm.

Years of ballet had taught her that sometimes, even your best wasn’t enough, but without feedback, Violet had no idea what to change or how to fix the situation.

She sat at her desk, tailoring thankfully sending up a package with options for details on her prêt-à-porter so she could distract herself.

Violet was going over the button options for the clothes that would end up mass produced for the stores, when she felt Trixie’s hand on her shoulder.

“Good work today Violet.” Trixie smiled, sitting down on the edge of her desk. He was wearing a blue fuzzy sweater with a teddy bear on it, the creation so clearly made by Katya, a clipboard in his hand.

“Thanks.” Violet bit her cheek, doing her best not to let the disappointment show on her face.

“I know it’s tough right now, not knowing where you stand, but remember. You’re most likely already in the collection somewhere.” Trixie’s voice was soft, which actually only made Violet feel worse, his compassion not at all what she needed. “While we’re waiting for placements and final feedback, I need you to focus on Holiday.”

“Yes.” Violet nodded. She only had one piece in the holiday collection, but she still had to do her best.

“Everything is happening Monday, and I hope you’re ready for it. I expect you to be there bright and early, getting to know how these things work will be crucial for your further career here.”

“Yes sir-” Violet cut herself off, the sir feeling all wrong. “You got it coach.”

9 notes · View notes

all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Powdered Sugar

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Boston didn’t come without repercussions.

Warnings: A bit angsty, but Bucky is all love sick if that helps.

A/N: It’s a shorter chapter but it’s still important and it sets up where our slightly dumb couple is headed. I tried to grab everyone who asked for a tag recently if I missed you please let me know and I’ll add you. This is the fourth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

It felt good to be home. Every time Bucky’s left New York and came back, it made him realize how much this city really was home. Now you were part of that. You were home. It had been five days since you left Bucky to fend for himself in Boston. On the morning of your flight, he got up before the sun was and drove you to the airport. He kissed you for fifteen minutes in front of the airport security check-in and nearly made you late for your flight; he couldn't help it. He hated being away from you, and knowing it would be days before he could hold you again, he might have gone a little overboard — Bucky wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget about him before he made it back to Brooklyn and to you.

Steve handed over three folded bills to the cashier behind the counter and took two paper cups of coffee, passing one to Bucky. It was their first day back in the office since closing the deal with Carol, and Bucky was having trouble focusing on his job for the first time in his life. He desperately wanted to ditch work and spend the rest of the day in bed with you, but he had a company to run, and he had to be a grown-up.

As Steve reminded him, all damn day.

“So, what’s going on with you and Y/n? You both were... different in Boston.”

“I don’t know Stevie. That last night…” Bucky shook his head and stared at the white plastic lid over his coffee, he couldn’t explain it — there were no words to describe how he felt about you and what happened this past week only made things more confusing.

“It was different. She said I was her stupid, and things were just different from how they usually are. The way we were with each other... I dunno, man.”

Steve was quiet for a long beat before he looked at Bucky with a small grimace he asked, “You’re excited because she called you stupid? I call you stupid all the time.”

“No, it wasn’t like that—”

“Sam constantly calls you dumb. All the time. I have to separate you two—”

“Steve!’ Bucky groaned and shoved Steve away from him. He was not in the mood. He was already grumpy because he wouldn't get to see you until the Stark Gala, and now Steve was pissing him off with the dumb questions.

“She said my stupid. It’s the ‘my’ part I was talkin’ about, dumbass. She called me hers, and it wasn’t the first time, either.”

“What else did she say?” Steve urged with a wide grin.

Bucky felt his cheeks pink, and his ears were burning. He cleared his throat and grumbled through a forced cough. “Uh, she called me her… fella.”

Steve chuckled and bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his. If Sam were there, he probably would have teased him over the pet name, but Steve didn’t. He liked seeing Bucky this happy, and Steve knew it was all thanks to you. He wasn’t about to cheapen Bucky’s feelings by teasing him over a silly name.

“You’re in deep, aren’t you?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer, and Bucky grinned and told him honestly, “Yeah, I think I am, Stevie.”

Bucky fished his phone out of his pocket, with all this talk, and he realized he hadn’t heard from you yet today. This was a sign. Boston was the push he needed. He needed to stop this nonsense, and tell you what he wanted, tell you where he wanted your relationship to go. He was going to tell you what’s on his heart at the Stark Gala — he was done playing around. You had to know he was all in, but if you wanted to keep things the way they were, he could be okay with that. He will stick around for as long as you’ll have him because he was already in love with you.

It was going to hurt when you leave him no matter what, you should at least know how he felt when you do walk away.

You arrived home nearly six days ago, and from the moment you stepped through the door, you refused to talk about the trip or Bucky. There wasn’t a moment of that trip you wanted to relive — even the good parts, it would only make the bad parts more painful. Pretending as if the terrible, awful, wonderful week never happened was the only way you could clean up the mess you made of your heart.

Of course, it would be easier to forget if your roommate minded her own business, and she wouldn’t let it go.

Every time Natasha asked you a question about Boston or Bucky, you evaded. You would change the subject back to her or offer to buy dinner, and Clint would change the topic for you — the pizza or Chinese debate always bought you an hour. Natasha would only put up with that for so long, though. There was no way you could keep that up forever, and you knew that, but you couldn’t get the words out even if you wanted to.

It hurt. You needed distance between you and the damage that was done — if you were going to find a way to repair it.

This morning, you sat at the counter spoon hanging loosely from your hand, spinning your cereal as you stared at your phone in your other hand. You had been like this since you opened Instagram, sitting and gawking at your phone. You couldn’t eat. All you could do was stare. Not after you saw what Sam posted. Most of his additions were of the boys and usually picking on Bucky, but the latest picture was what caught your attention. It looked like it was their last night in Boston, and Carol was smushed between the men.

Against your better judgment, your thumb took on a life of its own and clicked her profile. Carol had reposted Sam’s original image, but there was another photo that made a green monster stir in your chest. The look of their attire said it was towards the end of the night, jackets had been shed, and hair was let down— it was only her and Bucky this time.

Bucky had been caught mid-laugh, glowing smirk and little eye crinkles in captured in Mayfair or whatever the hell filter she deemed was best to highlight your boyfriend— Bucky. He was not your boyfriend. Carol's arm was linked in Bucky's, and she was gazing at him adoringly, but it was the caption that had your hackles raised.

Can you believe no one has snatched this man up? He’s more than just a pretty face, let me tell you. Sweet like you wouldn’t believe and knows how to negotiate. Can’t wait to start working with this stud.

“Why don’t you snatch him up?”

You jumped at the sound of Natasha’s voice coming from over your shoulder and dropped your phone to the counter, narrowly missing your bowl of milk. You hated it when she did that.

“Seriously?” You whined loudly. “I told you not sneak up on me!”

“Sorry. I said your name three times, but you were busy staring at your phone like it was going to turn into something. So, did you snatch him up?”

You shook your head, letting her know you didn’t want to talk about it, but you had to say something. It had been days since it all went down, and she would find out eventually. It was better she found out now before Bucky tired of you and found someone else. You slid off the stool to drop your bowl in the sink. Your cheerios were soggy anyway.

“No, I didn’t, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y/n, what happened--”

“He doesn’t want to be snatched up, okay? Least of all by me.”

Natasha watched you dump your breakfast in the trash and pour your glass of orange juice down the sink. You avoided her eyes, but she could still see the hurt filling them, as you explained everything that happened in Boston and everything you heard that night. None of it made any sense. Bucky told her how he felt, the whole truth, and no one lies to Natasha.

“Y/n, I know that’s not true.” Natasha pointed to where you were standing and told you what happened that morning he invited you to Boston. “He stood right there, looked me in the eye, and said you meant something to him. He said he was going to tell you in Boston how much you meant to him and that he wanted more than this game you two are playing."

"Well, he lied!” You shouted, falling back against the counter from the blowback of the admission. “Of course, he lied. You’re my best friend. You probably would have killed him and hid the body before I got out of the shower. He’s not going to tell you the truth because he knew you would tell me.”

“And why do you think he told them the truth?”

“Steve is his best friend and his business partner. They all served together, Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They are brothers, and he’s known Sharon for over a decade before she ever married Steve. There is no way he lied to them, and even if he did lie to them, it doesn’t make him any better. It only means he’s embarrassed to with me, so he lied to the people closest to him.”

Natasha wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. He lied to someone, and no matter who caught the lie and who heard the truth, none of it was good.

“You need to talk to him. Tell him what you heard and let him explain himself. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding. If it turns out he is a total dick, you can use the moves I taught you freshmen year and give him a broken arm as a parting gift.”

A single kiss dropped to your cheek, and she left you alone to find your way through the tangled web of dark thoughts spinning around your head. Natasha was right — like always. You needed to talk to him about the trip, but first… You grabbed your phone from where it fell on the counter and pulled up your messages. Your stupid fingers were at it again. A quick screenshot of Carol’s post, you dropped into the textbox and typed furiously before your brain could gain control over your fingers.

You: Looks like you had fun. Did you finally get snatched up?

That sounded awful and jealous and childish. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to be with you, your phone mocks.

You watched three bubbles pop up right away as if he was already sending you something or at the very least, had his phone in his hand, and guilt swam up your throat, choking you. He was probably working, and you were sending him childish messages fueled by jealousy.

Fella❤: I had more fun when you were with me. I got snatched up months ago. Sorry to say. A sweet girl stole me away. Made me her fella, didn't you hear?

You hated how he could say things that meant so much to you and mean so little to him, and you really hated how much you didn’t hate it at all.

You: Did she? Really?

Fella ❤: Really and truly. She did. I was hoping she would be my date to the Stark Modern Art Charity Gala this weekend. I was about to ask her when I got your message. I haven't seen her in days, and I'm itchin' to have her on my arm again.

Of course, on his arm for show and nothing more.

You: That can be arranged. I don't have a dress, though. I don’t want to embarrass you.

Fella ❤: You could wear a garbage bag and be beautiful, and you could never embarrass me. BUT if you insist on getting dressed up. I think I have something in mind. I'll send it over.

Fella ❤: What has you thinking I could ever be embarrassed by you?

You ignored the question and hoped your answer would keep him distracted so you could have that conversation in person.

You: Okay, I’ll be your girl for the night.

Fella ❤: I hope after the gala it will be more than just one night, sweet girl.

Ordinarily, Bucky’s flirting and little sexual innuendos would make your toes curl, and those stupid butterflies in your stomach flutter — maybe even laugh if it was silly enough, but it didn’t. It left you feeling empty and… wanting. Which only made your choice easier. Of course, you were going to go wherever he wanted you to go because truthfully, five days was far too long without him. You missed him. You missed so much your chest ached, and the only thing that could ease the hurt was seeing him.

If being Bucky’s sugar baby was the only way you could have him, then you were going to take what he could give until he was done with you because you were not ready to lose him just yet.

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