#I should change the colour of his eyebrows but *shrugs* maybe some other time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuttling · 3 years

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Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years

Text

What was with Martin and Tuesdays.

He was never late for work, which managed to surprise Jon as it wouldn’t seem out of character based on the rest of his quality of work ethic. But on Tuesdays, and Tuesdays alone, he was always early.

Not only that, but he was oddly... Chipper, at 8:45 on a Tuesday, stepping into the Archives with a takeaway cup in one hand and a bag of some unspecified pastry in the other. The pastry varied from week to week.

His hair seemed to curl more than usual, like it was damp and just starting to dry, as if he’d showered not more than a few minutes before stepping foot into the Institute. Aside from his unusual sense of alertness, though, there was a contrasting weariness to his step, like his limbs were heavier than expected, or he simply didn’t have the energy to keep his shoulders up, allowing his arms to slump when standing casually.

And it wasn’t any of Jon’s business, but it was strange. And, unfortunately, Jon hadn’t spent four years in research to see something he deemed ‘Strange’ and be able to let sleeping dogs lie.

Of course, he couldn’t just ask him. That seemed like it would be some sort of workplace violation, for a boss inquire as to the activities of their employees outside of the workplace. Maybe if they were friends, yes, it would be acceptable. Tim could clap Martin on the shoulder, sling out a casual “Up to anything interesting this morning?” and Martin would stammer off a tale of whatever it was that he did in the early hours of a Tuesday. But he and Martin weren’t friends.

So he just... Did some casual observation.

Martin always seemed to have a bag with him, on Tuesdays. Just a backpack, grey, nothing strange, but he usually had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder most days. He didn’t have it on Tuesdays, though, so clearly whatever he was putting in the backpack was small enough that he could fit his usual baggage in it too. But aside from whatever the indeterminate contents of the bag were, his damp hair and weary but confident demeanour, Jon couldn’t find anything else glaringly obvious that made Tuesdays different.

Until one Tuesday, of course.

The Institute had never been terribly strict about dress codes, but that was mostly because it didn’t have to. The type of person who worked there usually had a certain demeanour about them that meant they didn’t need to be reminded what was and was not appropriate for the workplace. Some of Tim’s more colourful shirts aside, the Archives had never had much problem with this subject so far.

So of course, eyebrows were raised when on a Tuesday Martin arrived to work five minutes after Jon and approximately twenty five minutes before Tim and Sasha were due to arrive, wearing, aside from his coat, his usual slacks and a t-shirt, the front of which displayed the cover of a book Jon had never heard of.

And apparently Jon was staring, because Martin seemed to notice. “Ah, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t exactly proper of me but I forgot to pack my shirt this morning so when I was getting changed after practise I only had a t-shirt.” He made his way across the room, over to his desk. “Well, either a t-shirt or my training shirt, and I figured that might not smell too great, heh. Uh- Sorry that wasn’t-”

“Training for what?”

The words were out of Jon’s mouth before he could stop himself, damned curiosity getting the better of him, yet again.

“Hm?” Martin paused, halfway through taking his coat off. “Oh! Rowing. I go rowing on Tuesday mornings, have to be at the river by 6am. Tiring, but fun.” And that’s when Martin shrugged his coat off properly.

Ah ha.

Jon was not a person who particularly concerned himself with the appearance of others. He’d only properly, long term dated once in the past, and he’d never really held any strong feelings for anyone since Georgie. Even passing attraction, to an actor, to a model, to someone sat on the other side of the café, wasn’t really something all that common for him. But he was half convinced, if his life was a cartoon, that viewed from the outside in that moment there would be three small stripes of pink, purple and blue over his head. Because Martin Blackwood had arms.

Well, yes, obviously he had arms. But they were... They were nice arms. In a way that Jon was not expecting. Strong, and muscular, and coming from broad shoulders, but not in that straining, abs-and-veins, body builder sort of way. It was a casual muscle, strength built up under layers of fat. It was a practical muscle, meant for lifting and holding and, apparently, rowing.

Jon supressed the entirely inappropriate desire for a hug.

“..Jon?”

When had Martin started saying his name? By his tone that wasn’t the first time, maybe the second or third, he was worried, Jon should answer, Jon should-

“Jon are you okay?”

“What? Oh, uhm, yes, perfectly fine,” his mouth was dry, why was his mouth so dry? “It’s, uhm. I wouldn’t worry about it. Not like anyone ever sees us down here anyway, just don’t make a habit out of it.”

“Gotcha, thanks.”

Coat now slung over the back of his chair, Martin turned back to his desk, settling down and powering his laptop on, conversation with Jon clearly intended to be over. But-

“Martin?”

“Yes?”

“Rowing, uhm... Tim does kayacking, I think? Or has gone, a few times at least, that he’s mentioned before. Just, if you ever wanted someone to talk about... About rowing, to.”

“Oh, does he? Cool, I’ll mention it to him later, thanks Jon.”

“Uhm, yes. Well. Have a nice day, Martin.”

#My Post #My Writing #oh it only took four hours because I had to go do errands but #ARMS. ARMS FIC. FIC ABOUT ARMS. HOT HOT ARMS FOR FLUSTERED ACES.#The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin #Martin Blackwood #Jonathan Sims

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heyyyharry · 3 years

Text

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic

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oscarseyebrow · 3 years

Note

Here’s a prompt for you: 24 “Don’t mind if I do.”

Feel free to ignore this but I’m thinking AU Poe? Maybe something focusing on what his life would be like if he hadn’t joined the Resistanc? Thank you, love you 😘

gif by the wonderful @zoriis 💖

Rating: M Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader Word count: 5k Warnings: Drinking, language, smoking. AN: Song lyrics taken (and changed) from Never Had. Masterlist | Taglist

The cantina is heaving by the time you finally arrive - late, as per usual. It really isn’t your fault. Whatever your friends may say -- if you ever make it to the table -- it’s not your fault. For every task you’d managed to wrap up at work, two more came across the desk for you and Maker, you really need to learn how to say no.

Leaving work late is the domino to topple the rest, which somehow sees you almost an hour late as you turn sideways, trying to squeeze between two groups of people. It’s so fucking busy and you don’t want to be here.

Come for drinks! They had said in the messages being exchanged throughout the day. There’s some live music on tonight. They’d then added. After the week you’ve had, the thought of drinks is a delight -- but not the live music. Not the packed cantina, full to the brim with people. You should have known it would be like this. Yet, here you are.

Everything is so warm and clammy in the dimly lit room; the heat from all the bodies mingling with very little space to dissipate between the walls and the low ceiling. It’s the kind of heat that wets your skin and causes clothes to stick to a thin covering of perspiration. You can already feel it as the smallest beads begin to build on your lower back beneath your layers. And you’re so desperate to reach the booth and relieve yourself of your jacket, but now you’re trapped. The fabric caught between the two bodies you’re attempting to squeeze between.

“Excuse me,” You tug and tug at your jacket, but to no avail. “Hey, can you… Just…” Another tug and you’re free; the abrupt release causing you to stumble backwards and straight into someone else. There’s a sudden yell that’s quickly followed by a wetness filling your boot and your jaw is already clenching as you glance down, seeing the empty glass rolling away and the contents of it now soaking through to your sock. Fucking great. Yes, please, allow this night to become so much worse than you could have ever foreseen.

Really, there are no words. You can’t blame this guy, you were the one to stumble into him and knock his drink out of his hand. But you still feel the unjustified rage bubbling in your stomach while you glare daggers at him. Without saying anything, you fix your jacket from where it has slipped down over your shoulder and then trudge the rest of the way to the booth; the trail of single wet footprints being left in your wake.

“You made it!” Zee, a friend from your previous place of work, is the first to spot you as she gets to her feet to throw her arms around your shoulders for a quick hug. “What took you so long?”

“Work.” You groan and give her one of those exasperated looks before moving to take a seat beside the others, but you’re quickly stopped by the hand of another friend, not allowing you to move any further.

“Last one in buys a round of drinks.” He grins up at you, clearly a few rounds deep already. In an attempt to keep your thoughts to yourself, you press your lips together in a tight line and look between all of the glasses on the table. They’ve barely been touched. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.” He then shrugs and leans back in his seat, looking all too smug with himself. If only he knew the tight thread your patience is hanging from right now, he wouldn’t be sitting there looking so smug. Finally, your eyes sweep back over to Zee and watch as she gives you a small, apologetic shrug.

Right.

With a heavy sigh, you turn on your heel and begin the struggle of pushing your way through to the bar; that unjustified rage bubbling away again with every shoulder and elbow that catches you as you weave between bodies. Finally, the bar is in sight, it’s only a few feet away and that’s when you stumble; hands quickly grasping for anything within reach to steady yourself as you gasp loudly. It’s a stomach turning moment, much like misjudging the last step in the dark. You lose your footing and know the floor is going to be greeting you real soon.

Thankfully, a hand catches hold of your arm to steady you and guide you forwards so that you can brace yourself against the wet bartop. When previously thinking if this night could get any worse, it hadn’t been a challenge to yourself. Yet, somehow, another domino topples over as you straighten up and turn to give your thanks to the stranger who saved you from the embarrassment of falling down. Your mouth opens but your words stall, not quite making it out as you meet the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I… Uh…” You stutter while drinking in the handsome face that’s still watching you with interest; eyebrows arching towards soft curls that have fallen free across his forehead from where his hair is swept back. Maker, he’s beautiful and all you can do is stare. “I…” You try again, but become very aware of the hand that is still holding your arm to keep you steady. A whole different kind of heat creeps across your skin now, adding to the warmth of the cantina while your eyes lower to the way his dark hair curls beneath his ear.

“Thanks.” You clear your throat, managing to force your unwilling words out. It starts as a hint at the corner of his lips, his mouth twitching ever so slightly while watching you before a smile finally curls over them. It’s a smile to light up a damn room. It’s vibrant and it radiates warmth as you watch the way his eyes crinkle, showing you how genuine this gesture is. Oh, you’re in trouble and your eyes are falling faster than you were only moments before. They come to land on luscious lips and that’s where they linger for maybe a second longer than they should -- they look so soft, so welcoming and they’re parting as he finally speaks.

“You doing okay?” Your saviour leans forwards a little as he asks that, allowing you to hear a voice that you swear drips actual honey. You should be embarrassed. But, you’re not. And for a fleeting moment, you find yourself smiling back at him, allowing him to captivate you and draw you in. It feels like the first genuine smile you’ve given since walking into this place, and you’re throwing it at a stranger you’ve just met.

“No.” You laugh, unable to help yourself. “I’m really not. I’ve been dragged here to see some shitty musician, I have someone’s drink swimming around inside of my boot and I have to buy a round of drinks because I’m late.” The man’s hand finally leaves your arm while he leans against the bar, keeping his body turned to yours now that you have seemingly caught his attention.

“Nice to meet you, Late. I’m Poe.” His hand extends towards you as he introduces himself and it takes you a moment for his awful joke to finally click. Oh. Stars. He’s witty as well as handsome. And as an automatic reaction, your hand reaches to take his, curious to know what his skin feels like as you shake it in greeting. Smooth, yet calloused. His palm holds a softness that his fingertips lack and you can’t help but wonder what his story is.

“That’s not-” You begin, as though considering correcting him and telling him your actual name, but you think better of it and simply shake your head with a small laugh. “You know what? Never mind.” Releasing his hand, you turn your attention to the bar and try to make eye contact with the server to let them know that you’re waiting. It’s so busy. You know this is going to take some time.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Poe doesn’t beat around the bush, does he? He’s straight in there, very forward with his offer while he continues to watch you long after your eyes have left him. But even as you stare at the coloured bottles behind the bar, you can still picture the jaw-line, covered with a few days worth of stubble which gives him a somewhat rugged look that counteracts the smoothness of his voice. And those lips. Full and perfectly even at the top and bottom. Your timing is all wrong as you finally glance back over at him and catch him licking at them after finishing his drink, waiting for your answer before ordering another.

You should go back to the booth. You’re here with friends, to see some live music and hopefully have some fun. But the longer you stand here, the more this offer seems much more appealing. They won’t miss you for one drink, will they? It can be quick. So you finally nod and force your eyes away from those lips, desperately trying to keep your face from showing everything you’re thinking right now.

“You can.” And so it’s decided. Tugging your jacket off, you’re hoping it helps with the heat and the way your hair is already beginning to stick to the nape of your neck, but it really doesn’t. It’s heavy and almost suffocating with all of the bodies packed inside of the cantina, yet, this man feels like a breath of fresh air. An attractive, bright, breath of fresh air and you’re desperate to breathe him in.

Poe makes a small motion with his hand on the bar and one of the servers walks down towards him, greeting him with a smile of familiarity. Interesting. This man appears to be known here, perhaps a regular - in any case, the two men know each other as they interact and Poe orders his drink first before turning to you so that you can do the same.

“Jet juice, please.” Poe watches you for a moment, silently storing that information to mind, or silently judging you from your drink choice, you’re not quite sure. But then his attention is gone and he slips the credits across the bar top to pay for the drinks. Even his profile is striking. You make yourself comfortable on the stool beside him while watching him, completely distracted from the chain of events that had brought you to this moment. It’s as though a domino in the line had fallen out of place, breaking the toppling effect to give you a break and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you find that you’re actually enjoying the evening now.

“So, why are you walking around with a drink in your boot?” Those dark eyes sweep back over to you again while Poe turns his head and after some consideration, his body turns, too. It’s now that you notice his shirt is open a button or two more than you’re expecting, revealing hints of a toned chest that’s covered in a light sheen under the lights. Maker, you can only imagine what his skin must feel like beneath your tongue. The warmth and the taste against the strong muscle while you drag it upwards along his throat -- no, stop. You need to stop. But you find that you can’t. Not now that your eyes follow the chain around his neck, right down to the ring that glints and glimmers against his chest.

Is he married? Was he married? You can only make up stories in your head about this stranger as you judge him based on what you can see.

“I bumped into someone…” You begin to explain.

“Do you do that often?” Poe’s response seems to bounce back instantly, the ball quickly falling into your court and keeping you on your toes in the most pleasant way.

“No, I got stuck. I mean, I got my jacket stuck. And then I stumbled and bumped into someone and…” You motion with your hands in an attempt to show him the way the liquid had fallen down your leg to fill your boot. His eyes practically sparkle as he presses his lips together in an attempt to keep himself from laughing at you.

“Don’t…” You warn him, despite a smile curling onto your lips again. “This is not a day to laugh at me, Poe.” There’s something that feels familiar in the way you speak his name, as though this isn’t the first time your mouth has formed the word. But, you can’t seem to place it. You’ve never met him before - That much you do know. You would remember someone this handsome.

“Is your sock wet?” The amusement drips from his voice now and he quickly glances back towards the bar as the two drinks are set down.

“Wet and sticky.” You laugh. Almost simultaneously, you reach for the glass at the same time as he does; your hand briefly grabbing his instead of the cold glass. The warmth is unexpected and not entirely unwelcome before you quickly snatch your arm back and throw an apologetic glance over at him. Somehow, you don’t think he seems to mind because he doesn’t flinch or try to pull back from the brief contact. Poe is still calm and collected as he pushes the glass towards you this time, helping you to avoid any further embarrassment. Why are you like this?

“Did you not think to take it off?”

“Take it off?” Your question doesn’t really answer his question as you take a sip of your drink and swallow down the bright liquid. It adds even more warmth to your body while it slides down your throat and seems to pool in your stomach, blazing a trail the whole way down. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” You admit and then lick your lips to collect any lingering taste there.

That’s when you notice Poe’s eyes drop, almost in the exact same way yours had when mesmerized by his own lips. They seem to linger for a moment before he reminds himself to look back up to your eyes again, watching you with interest. You have his attention. And just to test that, you reach up to swipe your thumb against the corner of your lower lip -- his eyes instantly falling again to follow it. The initial attraction is no longer one-sided.

The sound of a glass smashing and cheering over the other side of the cantina breaks the moment as you both glance over, watching a group of friends laughing at a member of their group who had dropped a drink. Pity your boot wasn’t there to catch it. When you finally turn back to look at Poe again, he’s taking a couple of gulps from his drink; the muscles in his throat working with each swallow until he lowers his glass again. Look away. Look away. But all you can do is swallow thickly until he speaks again.

“Did you say you were here with friends?” That suave voice enters your thoughts and brings your attention to the present moment as Poe asks his next question, interested to learn more about you. He’s making easy conversation from the first thing you told him; your wet boot and the fact that you were here with friends to see some musician. Would you still rather be at home now?

“Yeah, they’re over…” You trail off as you sit up taller on the stool, attempting to look between heads and shoulders to spot your group in their booth. Eventually, you make eye contact with one of them and give them a small wave. “There.” Poe’s eyes follow yours to where more of them are looking now, pointing over at you and clearly having a discussion about the fact you're sitting at a bar with someone you’ve just met. You know, it’s not your usual style -- but there’s something about Poe that seems to draw you in after stumbling into his gravitational pull.

Poe also waves over to them and the look on Zee’s face is an absolute picture. You’ll fill her in about him later and how you ended up here.

“They look happy to be here.” He observes with amusement and he’s right. They really do. You’re not sure what they’re so excited about, but they’re practically buzzing as they talk amongst themselves while looking over at you again.

“They’re always happy to be here.”

“But you’d rather be at home?” Poe asks, as though he already knows your answer to that.

“Yes.” You tell him honestly and laugh again. “All day I’ve been thinking about drinking wine on my sofa and falling asleep.” Your truthfulness has him laughing this time and the sound is wonderful. It’s so rich and full of character as it rolls out from his chest, catching the attention of others around him. It’s a sound of happiness in its truest form; nothing forced, nothing fake - simply Poe enjoying the moment that he’s sharing with you.

“Yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.” You smile at him and take another sip of your drink.

“Willing to put yourself through the torture of listening to a shitty musician, just for your friends.” It’s you that laughs this time and you set your glass down, drying off the condensation against the side of your leg.

“You think he’s shitty, too?”

“Oh, the shittiest. Never seems to get any better.” Maker, he gets it. You’ve never actually heard the artist you’re here to see -- Hell, you can’t even think of the name now that you try, but Poe seems to understand. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you came.” There’s such honesty laced with his amusement and it momentarily catches you off-guard; your laughter falling silent while you watch him with a lingering smile.

“Yeah… Me too.”

An easy silence settles as you take the time to look over Poe’s face again, picking up subtle details that you may have overlooked the first time. The peppering of greys in his stubble, a small scar on his cheek and the way his eyelashes seem to fan out right at the ends of his upper lids. Those striking looks make it difficult to avert your eyes when his meet yours, so you hold them for a few seconds and simply smile at each other, as though already knowing where this encounter is going to end up.

But the man behind the bar interrupts the moment all-too soon; his presence in your periphery also catches Poe’s attention as he glances over at him.

“Is it that time already?” Poe asks and finishes his drink without ordering another. There’s a sense of disappointment settling in your stomach at the thought of this man leaving before you’d really got to know much about him.

“Got a few minutes, but they’re ready whenever you are.” The man taps the bar top a couple of times and then leaves Poe to it. But he’s already straightening up as his eyes find yours again and before he can say anything, your mouth is blurting out words you weren’t intending to voice out-loud.

“Are you leaving?” As much as you try to play this casually, there’s still a hint of disappointment in your voice and you know that he hears it.

“I am…” Poe trails off and then throws you a grin; it’s different to the smiles you’ve been getting out of him and you suddenly find out why. “Got some shitty music to play.” It takes you a few seconds, but then something clicks. A light comes on so suddenly in your brain and you feel your mouth open, then quickly close again -- a motion that you repeat a few times as everything begins to make sense.

“You’re-”

“I am.”

“No…” You trail off, feeling the heat of embarrassment rush to your face and the back of your neck. “Why didn’t you say something?” Maker, you’re mortified. You’ve been sitting here, indirectly complaining about being dragged to see him. He’s the shitty musician.

“You didn’t ask…” Poe trails off, as though it’s the most obvious point he could make. “But it was worth it. Your face, a real picture.” And then he pauses, as though he wants to say something before thinking better of it. Instead, he quips, “I hope your sock dries out.”

“Yeah, me too.” You smile and watch as his lips curve upwards to return it; the genuine quality of it bringing that same sparkle to his eyes before he finally steps away to make his way through the crowd of people. Within a few seconds, he’s gone from your sight and you exhale a heavy sigh before laughing to yourself. Maker. That was embarrassing, in the best possible way.

By the time you make it back to the booth -- luckily, with no more accidents -- the first song has already begun. Seconds. That’s all the time it takes for the cantina to fall silent; everyone seemingly absorbed in the man who takes command of the whole room with only his voice. There’s no theatrics, no big show -- just Poe. Poe, his guitar and a soothing voice that washes over the crowd.

And you have to admit, he’s not a shitty musician. In fact, he’s far from it.

That melancholy voice stirs emotions inside of you that you weren’t expecting to feel tonight. They’re simultaneously heartwarming yet somber. His tones are gentle, yet rough. You’re no longer angry and frustrated at the events that had led to this moment; in fact, you’re far from it as you sit there with a soft, mellow smile on your face. Each song earns applause and sounds of approval from the crowd, causing the man on the stage to smile in the way that illuminates him brighter than the spotlight trained on him.

“There was no writing on the wall, no warning signs to follow... I know now, and I just can't forget... You're the best I never had.”

You can’t decide if it’s real or just wishful thinking, but it feels as though his eyes sweep across every so often to your direction, almost as if he still remembers where you had pointed out your friends to him earlier. You tell yourself that he’s not actually looking at you, not with all these other people in here who want to see him perform. But with each meeting of his gaze, it’s hard to convince yourself otherwise. It makes you feel almost giddy to think that in a cantina full of people, you still have his interest.

“In this motel, well past midnight... When I'm bluer than a bruise...”

It’s not a crush. It’s not. You’re not a kid, but it sure feels similar; it makes you smile and avert your eyes, it makes your stomach flip with a combination of excitement and longing to talk to him again. Maker, you want to be close enough to him to admire the way those eyelashes caress his skin with each blink, or the way his eyebrows raise to signal his amusement in conversation. You want to allow yourself to gravitate towards him again and lose track of time while appreciating the way he seems to listen to each word you speak.

But then, you swear everything momentarily stops. Everything around you becomes nonexistent, as though you’re the only person sitting there while your heartbeat kicks up a notch inside your chest.

“You come stumbling in, through the half-light, in your funny… wet boots.”

No, this isn’t a crush. In this very second, it’s a whole goddamn explosion of exhilarating amusement as you find yourself laughing out loud at the obvious change in Poe’s original lyrics. They don't even rhyme but they're about you. It’s endearing mockery and an attempt to draw you in. He knows that he has you because there’s a grin on his lips as he continues singing. Maker, how can one man be so kriffing charming?

Suddenly, you have a million reasons to be thankful you accepted the stupid invitation to come here tonight

You sit and listen to Poe’s captivating voice with a soft smile on your face, reveling in the intimacy he’s created between you with a simple reference to your shared joke. Despite the fact that this place is packed and he has a large audience hanging onto his every word, it almost feels like he’s singing for you.

As soon as the set is over, the bustle of the cantina resumes; everything becomes far too loud again. You can’t deny it, the good mood that you’re now in, mixed with the flow of drinks through Poe’s show has a relaxing buzz settling through your limbs while you try to keep up with the conversation going on in the booth.

“Another drink?” Zee motions to your empty glass that you’re still holding in your hand, having unknowingly finished it while distracted. You weigh your options and shake your head.

“No, thanks. I’m going to grab a smoke.” You politely decline and wait until she slides out of the booth so that you can follow as you pick up your jacket and slip it on. It’s still far too warm in there to be wearing layers, but you know the air outside carries a bite tonight.

Thankfully, your attempt to get out of the cantina is much more successful than the one getting in and you’re soon wrapping your arms around yourself as you step out of the way of the doors, trying to keep in some of the warmth you’d been willing to leave you earlier. Even from outside, you can still hear the muffled rumbles and voices coming from the other side of the wall. A faint smile settles onto your lips as you slip a cigarette between them and make quick work of lighting it up.

No sooner are you exhaling the smoke and watching it curl upwards towards the cloudy sky, than the door to the cantina opens again and there’s a momentary rush of warm air spilling out into the cold night air. Your eyes slide over and that smile begins to curl further onto your lips as you watch Poe look to his right, then to his left before he spots you.

“Hey, Late.” His movements are almost a copy of yours as he steps out of the way of the door and comes to stand in front of you instead. “Your friend said I’d find you out here.” Of course she did. Your eyes move over Poe’s face, noticing that some of the curls you’d been staring at earlier were now damp and clinging to the skin around his temples from where he’d clearly been sweating while performing.

“Had to make my escape…” You trail off and lean back against the wall while you watch him. “Could only take so much of that musician.” This earns you a laugh while you pull the small, compact tin from your pocket that has your rolled cigarettes inside and offer it to Poe. “Want one?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Poe doesn’t need to step as close to you as he does while accepting one of your cigarettes, nor does he need to rest his hand against yours while dipping his head when you offer him a light, but he does. And the smallest contact of his hand brushing against yours creates the same tingling sensation as it had when reaching for the glass at the same time.

Poe frowns slightly as he takes a deep drag from the cigarette and then exhales slowly; his tongue licking at his lips, which momentarily distracts you from everything else. The lower one glistens in the lights strung up outside of the cantina and it takes every bit of self control you have not to step forwards and kiss him. And he knows it. It’s written all over his face while he watches you without saying anything.

An easy silence settles as you take turns drawing from your cigarettes; you, still leaning against the wall and letting your eyes drink in every inch of him while he stands before you, doing the exact same. Occasionally, you share a smile when your eyes meet his and hold him in a lingering gaze. He’s still just as handsome as the moment he caught you; his striking looks having stolen your words from you while you’d tried to compose yourself.

But now he was so much more. Charming, yet a tease, with a voice that could melt like butter and ooze a delightful softness. But there was something about him that was rough around the edges; a rugged energy that drew you in and made you want to know more.

“Do you want to grab some food with me?” Poe finally speaks after what feels like the longest time. Food? With this man? Your smile tells him your answer before you’ve spoken a word, yet you still take a few seconds to keep him hanging before you finally nod.

“I’d like that.” Your answer has that smile curling over his lips again as the corner of his eyes crinkle softly.

“Yeah, me too.” Poe throws your last words to him from earlier right back at you as he holds out his arm, and with the final drag on your cigarette, you discard it and push yourself away from the wall so that you can link your arm through his.

Maybe coming to see a shitty musician hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

--------

Taglist: @the-scandalorian @fett-ching @ohkarabast @salome-c @dinjarin-baket @meanperegrine @uncle-kenobi (hope you don't mind me tagging you, fellow poe hoe 💖) @the-little-ewok @mypedrom (didn't forget you this time sweetie 💖)

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #writing prompt #star wars fanfiction

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roscgcld · 4 years

Text

GOJO SATORU || ends of the earth

request: can i request a scenario where Gojo and non-shaman!F!reader are on their first date, and they visit the beach to watch the sunset, and gojo suggests they head near the water to dip their feet in for bit because why not? turns out f!reader has a phobia of the ocean due to an incident when she was younger, which is a shocker bc f!reader appears to be very confident and fearless and independent . at first, gojo finds this sorta funny, but after seeing the severity of her fear, he tries to help her conquer her it. she climbs his back as he heads towards the shallow end of the ocean, just where the oceans crashes on the shore (after a lot of convincing on gojo’s part). 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕 just something really fluffy while showing the goofy side of gojo, and his soft and considerate side! thank you!!!!

note: honestly, i love this idea honestly cx this is so cute - i can see gojo doing this for his lover if she is scared cx it’s very fluffy and such a fun thing to write for c: also I changed it so that they are both dating for awhile, since i struggled a lot writing it the other way around lol cx but i think this isn’t that bad??? so i hope you don’t mind~

pronouns: she/her

The smell of the ocean was the first thing that hit your senses once you got out of your car, glancing over at your boyfriend to see him smiling widely at the sight of the quiet beach before you two. Today will be the first time in awhile that you get to see your boyfriend, with him busy being a sorcerer fighting curses across Japan. Because of this, you two decided that a date was in order.

Hence why you two found yourselves at a beach after you two made some simple picnic food to eat. “God, I can’t remember the last time I saw a beach.”

“Don’t make yourself sound so old.” You said with a soft smile as you grabbed the beach mat whilst he grabbed the basket with the food you prepared, Gojo just giving you a cheeky smile in response as he lowered his sunglasses a little, revealing his beautiful glowing blue eyes over the round rims of his sunglasses. “You love me regardless.” Was his simple response, to which you just raise an eyebrow at him before you locked the car behind the both of you. “I’ll let you think that’s the case then.”

Ignoring his dramatic gasp, you made your way down the entrance of the beach, walking down the steps leading towards the sandy beach. If you were being honest, if you had a choice, you wouldn’t have chosen the beach to have your date at. When you were younger, a huge wave had swept you out to sea once; and if it wasn’t for a nearby surfer who heard your mother’s cries for help, you would have drowned. Ever since then, you had never stepped a foot into the ocean anymore.

However, you’ve never told your boyfriend this fact. Maybe it was because it didn’t come up, or maybe it’s because you were embarrassed - but you’ve never told him that you had an insane fear of the ocean. Hence why now, while you watched him try to pick the best spot to have a nice picnic by the beach together, you were trying to not show how nervous and awkward you were as you stood on the warm sand.

You had wanted to say something to him about the beach, but when you saw how excited he got at the idea to visit somewhere as simple as a beach, the words got stuck in your mouth. Since you weren’t in swimwear, you had decided that there was no harm just sitting on the coast. So, you swallowed you anxieties and walked towards your excited boyfriend, helping him set the beach mat down before you two settle down on the slightly rough and scratchy surface of the beach mat.

Soon the food was unwrapped and you two were laughing and joking with one another as you slowly went through the sandwiches you made from home. Besides the simple cold cut sandwiches, there was also the strawberry sando that Gojo had begged for you to make earlier. “See, isn’t this nice?” Gojo grinned as he looked over at you, dressed in a simple shirt and a pair of shorts, his skin seeming to glow underneath the slowly setting sun in the horizon. You could barely take your eyes away from how gorgeous and effortless he looks just sitting there, eating his sandwich.

You swear it wasn’t fair how perfect he was.

“You say this when you drag me away from work to cuddle you on the couch.” You commented back with a soft grin as you raised the chilled bottle of milk tea you had purchased at the petrol station when you were filling up on petrol. Gojo hums at the memory as he grins over at you, grabbing a tissue to wipe his mouth clean. “Princcess, you should know how much I enjoy spending any time I can with you.” He said with an innocent shrug, to which you just smiled at him warmly, knowing that underneath the teasing tone was him telling you the truth.

It made your heart warm, but you didn’t miss the chance to tease him a little. “And here I thought Mr Playboy Gojo will never settle down.” You tossed back teasingly, remember how Ieiri had mentioned that you had somehow managed to tame the flirtatious and womaniser Gojo when you first met his long time friend and co worker. Gojo just grins before he leans over to peck your lips softly, causing a light flush to travel up to your cheeks at how spontaneous that kiss was.

“Well, what idiot would let such an amazing woman slip through his fingers?”

His words caused your blush to deepen as you reached over to push his face away from yours, trying to hide your blush behind your free hand as he laughs and kisses your palm gently. With that the both of you returned to your food, slowly making your way through the rest of it. Then sunset had started to paint the beach in an array of beautiful colours just as you were packing up the rest of your cutlery.

Gojo tosses the tissues back into the basket as his sapphire blue eyes now on full display as he enjoys the sunset. “Princess, leave the basket for a bit.” He suddenly said as he looks over at you, causing you to pause as you tighten the bottle of half finished milk tea in your hands. “I want to walk along the water for a bit, the water looks extra nice today. And if I had an extra pair of clothes, I would have jumped in awhile go.” He ranted as he got up, dusting his shorts off; and somehow completely not noticing how you froze in fear at the idea of going to the water.

At first Gojo didn’t notice that you didn’t up with him until he was half way towards the shore when he realised that you aren’t behind him. Looking back curiously, he noticed how you seem to be frozen on the beach mat. “Hello? Earth to Y/N?” He called back to you with a confused frown, which only deepen when he realised that you looked too pale for his liking. At first he had no idea what was wrong with you until something clicked in his head, causing him to frown even more.

When Gojo firs met you, he admired the fact that you were fearless. You do not have Cursed Energy, yet you are able to see Curses - which was how Gojo saved you from becoming the next target of a Second Grade Curse. Well, when he got there you were handling yourself well - smacking the monster like Second Grade with your frilly pink umbrella, yelling at how it should ‘keep your disgustingly slimy and wet hands off my clean sweats’ while you assaulted the poor Curse. You weren’t doing much damage, yet at the same time the Curse was completely terrified of you to actually make a move.

Gojo actually watched for a few moments before going over to help you, asking how were you planning to exorcise the curse with your pink umbrella. Only to barely dodge you smacking his head with it. It was that moment when he knew you were the one though.

So you can’t blame him at how confused he was at to why someone who is brave enough to attack a Curse without a weapon looked terrified of the lightly crashing waves of the ocean. “Hey.”

Your eyes snapped towards a pair of glowing blue eyes, blinking rapidly as you tried to calm you slightly erratic breathing. However, you can never hide from your observant boyfriend, who frowns even more before he takes your shaking hands in his. “Y/N, are you afraid of the ocean?” He asked you in a soft voice, to which you just made a face before quietly looking away, as if you didn’t want to answer his question. Yet that alone gave him the answer he needed to know. “Princess, why didn’t you tell me? We could have went somewhere else if you are scared.”

Immediately your eyes looked over at his for a moment before looking down at your lap once more. “I just...you looked so happy, asking to come to the beach.” You mumble quietly, trying to take your hands back from his so you can fumble with your fingers out of habit. Gojo stopped that, squeezing your fingers between his as he tries to catches you gaze; realises that you were actively avoiding it. Eventually he lets your hands go in favour of cupping your face in his hands, forcing your eyes to look up at him.

“Y/N...you should never force yourself to do something you’re not comfortable with.” Gojo mumbles softly with a frown, to which you just bite your lip before you glanced away from his ever knowing eyes - knowing that deep down he was right. “You should never put yourself through something you’re not comfortable with, even if it’s for me.” He mumbles with a soft frown, to which you just let out a soft but shaky sigh, leaning forward to bury your face into his chest.

“But you always do so much for me..”

For a moment there was just silence before you felt Gojo nudging the side of your face with his nose, causing you to look up at him with nervous eyes. “I’ve got an idea.” He commented with a soft smile, something that was rare for you to see on his face as well. This caused you to raise a curious eyebrow as he grinned softly, an eyebrow raised as well. “Why don’t we try and overcome your fear together?”

It took a lot of convincing, and a lot of whines and blushes on your end before you agreed to get on his back. His plan? He plans to walk towards the end of the ocean with you on his back. He promises that he wasn’t going to drop you, and if he did, he’ll buy you bubble tea from the bubble tea store near your apartment. However, it took him giving you puppy eyes before you allowed him to turn your back to him; wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders tightly as you buried your tensed face into his neck.

The soft rumble of Gojo’s chuckle caused you to blush hard, gently kicking your foot out in frustration at him seeming to laugh at you as he started to walk towards the shore. “Cutie.” You heard him mumble softly, which had your heart skipping a beat once more and the blush on your cheeks to darken.

A few more steps and soon you heard the sound of the waves gently crashing onto the shore, causing a shiver of fear to slice through you as you tighten your grip around your boyfriend. “Loosen up, princess. You’re about to choke me.” Gojo said with an amused tone in his voice as he took another step forward, his feet resting on the wet sand beneath them as he tosses you an amused smirk. “We can definitely play tonight if you want.”

His words caused you to blush hard as you pulled your face out of his neck to glare at him murderously, only to be distracted by the crashing waves that were around you. Immediately you clammed up once more as you buried your face back into his neck once more; your entire body shaking from the fear. This cause Gojo’s teasing words to stop at the tip of his tongue as he tighten his grip on your legs, feeling bad that you looked so scared of the ocean. “We can go back if you want.”

At first you thought about it before you shook your head slowly, taking a few deep breaths to calm your pounding heart. “You sure, princess?” Gojo asks you in a calm yet soft tone, waiting for you to give him another nod before he smiles softly. “Alright. I’ll just stand here. You can look up when you’re ready.” He said simply, letting you know that he was just going to just stand here until you’re ready to look up.

It took awhile, but slowly you inched your eyes up to look up at the horizon before you. Only to have your breath taken away at the sight of the sun now setting at the horizon, the warm sunlight panting the world in an array of pinks, oranges, yellows and reds. You watched in awe at how the soft waves seem to reflect the sunset perfectly, creating a beautiful scene before you. The fear you felt inside slowly started to melt away as you watch the scene before you in awe, entrance by something as beautiful as a sunset by the ocean.

You were so distracted that you didn’t notice how Gojo was watching you over his shoulder, love and adoration practically oozing from his very person as he tighten his protective grip around your legs. It was this moment that he vowed that no matter what, he is going to protect you with his entire person.

That you were worth going to the ends of the earth for. Because you are his everything.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Little Bones 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness, unwanted touches

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: We got another part and I hope you love biker!Thor as much as I do. It’s lots of fun.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 2: Better butter your cue finger up

The bottle of wine sat on your counter and you hid away the vodka in your freezer as you resisted the temptation of both. The library made hangovers even worse with its bright lights and tedious nothingness. So you tried to ignore the tapping at your shoulder, the persistent tug of your paranoia, and pretended that nothing had changed. In Birch, nothing did change, right?

The click of your mouse and the loud tapping of keys filled the silence of the library. Colin snored with eyes wide open. It was hard to tell when the old man was awake or sleeping. You weren’t sure there was a line left between the two for him. He spent most of his working hours in the back on the other side of the windowed wall although what exactly he did there remained a mystery.

There wasn’t very much to do there outside the occasional school visits in which students walked down to complete some research project or the teacher’s held a crafting circle. You liked those days as often you could join in and help wrangle in the pupils as they explored the sterile shelves.

Melissa stood and her chair rolled back with a grumble. She stretched and bent to grab her purse from under the desk.

“I’m going down to Bab’s. You want anything?”

“Hmm,” you tapped your chin as you leaned back. “I wouldn’t mind a latte. Oh, and I think they have the banana loaf today. A slice of that too.”

You peeked under the desk and sat forward to grab your bag from the cubby beside your PC tower. “Nope,” Mel stopped you, “it’s on me today. I need a breath of fresh air anyway. Even if it is cold as hell.”

“Oh, thanks, Mel,” you smiled and grabbed a pen to click in your monotony. “We should dig out the Christmas decorations soon. It might actually give us something to do.”

“Maybe for an hour or two,” she pulled her jacket from the rack that stood against the wall between the front counter and the back room, “We could try something new this year. I saw these lights online, you can program them with your phone.”

“You think Colin could handle that?”

“Like he would even notice.” She laughed and pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse. “Latte, banana bread.” She recited. “I’ll be back.”

You watched her go then stretched your legs out as you arched in the chair. You fell back limp and closed your eyes. You could fall asleep right there. You really couldn’t blame Colin for his waking trance. This place made your ears buzz and your head spin.

You heard the whoosh of the automatic doors and sat up. You were surprised at your visitor but not disappointed. Melissa’s daughter approached the desk as she swung her bag in her hand. You could tell by the little wrinkle between her eyebrows that she wasn’t happy.

“Your mom’s just gone to Bab’s,” you rolled closer to the desk. “You must’ve seen her.”

“I saw her.” She said tersely. She stilled her fidgeting and planted her dangling purse on the desk. She sighed and crossed her arms. “I’m here to talk to you.”

“Is something the matter?”

You were nervous. You knew her as well as her mother and you got along. You shared an interest in old Hollywood and a taste for dry history and humour. You liked her, envied her even for having a mother like Melissa.

“I hate doing this. I hate when he makes me do this.” She dropped her arms and instead gripped her hips. “You want to come down to the Asp tonight? For a drink?”

You chuckled and clicked the pen. “It’s Wednesday. I have to open tomorrow and--”

“Hrgh,” she huffed. “I’m sorry but it’s… not a question.”

You put the pen down and clamped your lips together. She shook her head and looked away.

“It’s an order. From Bucky.” She tapped her toe on the carpet. “I tried to tell him that you wouldn’t want to come so late. That you know, you work. He just doesn’t listen and--” She heaved and threw up her hands in exasperation, “I tried.”

“But… me? I don’t even know any of those… people. It’s not really my scene.” You swallowed and dug your nail into your thumb.

“I’ll be there. Same with Steve’s girl from the bakery. She’s nice. And…” her eyes were dull but irritated, “look, if you don’t show up, Bucky will go and find you. Everyone in town reports to him. You don’t have to be in his club, he owns Birch.” She grabbed the thin strap of her small purse and drew it from the desk, “you don’t want to learn that the hard way like I did.”

You knew it wasn’t Bucky who wanted you there, you suspected that big blond brute who had chased you down the street. Her anxiety fed yours and made you uneasy. If she were that afraid, how scared should you be?

“I think you know my answer considering I’ve been given little choice.” You said firmly. “What time?”

“Seven. I got him to budge on at least that. You won’t be out too late.” She gave a weak smile and twisted the strap of her bag. “Stay close to me and I’ll do what I can. You know, with Steve’s girl, I really tried…” She looked away and rolled her as they turned glossy. “Sometimes, Bucky listens to me and I’m figuring out how to make him.”

“Why are you with him?” You whispered. “Why--”

“You think it’s a choice I made.” She blinked and sniffed. “No, it was made for me when I was born in this god forsaken pit.” She thrust her purse over her shoulder and shrugged. “I don’t know why anyone would make up their mind to come here.”

“I can’t say I’m happy with the decision.” You returned.

She sent you a pitying look before she spun away. She marched back to the doors as her mother nearly collided with her. They spoke for a few minutes before the younger left and Melissa came over to plop her goodies on the desk.

“New latte flavour, candy cane. I figured we might get a bit festive.” She announced.

💀

You stood outside the Asp and stared up at the snow-covered marquee. The powder began to fall just after noon and collected along the small ledge below the image of Cleopatra. You wore a bright pink toque with an oversized pom-pom and tucked your chin down against the matching scarf tucked down the front of your cherry-coloured coat. You stuck out among the grey of Birch.

You didn’t put much effort into getting ready. You kept on the same polka-dot blouse from work and traded your trousers for faded jeans and a pair of knee-high boots. You took a breath and stepped through the doors, barely avoided the rush of snow that fell down behind you.

The bar smelled of beer and a stale but pungent dinginess. You looked around in the low din. The bartender, a woman named Lucy, dried several glasses and stacked them on a shelf and every man in the place wore leather.

You found Melissa’s daughter next to Bucky as he squinted at his closest accomplice, Steve. The shy girl from the bakery was tucked under his arm as she picked at the hem of her short skirt. You cleared your throat as you pondered leaving.

A figure on Bucky’s other side stood and you frowned as that man, Thor, smiled at you like a puppy. You fixed your mouth into a straight line as Bucky’s girl rose and waved you over.

“Hey, you made it,” she said. You didn’t miss the way Bucky’s hand slid up her thigh.

“Yeah,” you said flatly as you rounded the table.

“Kitten,” Thor greeted as he pulled out the chair next to him in a flourish. “I’ve a seat just for you.”

You looked from the chair to his face. You made no move to sit.

“If that’s not to your tastes, you can sit in my lap.” He taunted.

Your lips parted in disgust and you grabbed the back of the chair. You wrenched it away from him and backed up steadily as you dragged it around the table. You stopped it next to Steve’s girl and unzipped your jacket. You sat and shrugged out of the coat then crossed your arms. You tore your eyes from the large man and smiled at the baker girl.

“The banana loaf was good,” you said. “Sorry I didn’t make it down.”

“Oh, it’s ugly out there,” she turned in Steve’s hold and his arm slipped down around her waist.

You could feel Thor’s constant gaze as you humoured the girl about the weather and listened to her story about how Mrs. Deeton sent back a blueberry scone for not having any blackberries. You did your best to blot out the rest of the bar.

“Kitten, you want a drink?” He interrupted and you peered over at him. You glanced from him to Lucy as she stood and awaited an order.

“Do you have ginger ale?” You asked her directly.

“We have club soda or iced tea right now.” She said with venom.

“Iced tea, thank you.” You fished through your purse for a fiver.

“Put it on my tab,” Thor insisted.

“No, it’s fine, I--”

You held out the bill and he reached across to snatch it from your hand. “On my tab.” He repeated and the barmaid stomped away. He tossed the five back to you and smirked. “Keep it, kitten.”

You swiped it up and turned back to Steve’s girl. She looked frightened as she stared at the blonde man and slowly returned her attention to you.

“Um, so, I was going to tell you the secret ingredient to Bab’s banana bread but you have to promise not to tell.”

“Sure,” you leaned in and she whispered it in your ear and giggled.

“I’m not supposed to tell.” She uttered as she touched her cheeks guiltily.

“I’ve been telling her she don’t need to worry about rules,” Steve intoned as his fingers danced on her hip.

“My mother made the best banana cream pie,” Thor interrupted. “She handed the recipe down to me. My sister was never much into sweets.”

“Oh?” Steve’s girl turned to Thor. “We don’t serve that at Bab’s but we have lemon meringue.”

“Mother made that too. She showed me the trick to perfect peaks. I could show you.”

Steve growled and pulled his girl closer. She looked at him as he sent a heated glare at Thor. She touched his chest and cooed at him to relax. Lucy returned with your iced tea and you took it eagerly as the tension burned at your face.

“So, kitten,” Thor scooted his chair around the table as you set your glass down, “what trouble did you get into today?”

“I work at a library.” You uttered dryly.

“And did you enjoy your wine last night? I always heard it’s better with company.”

You jutted out your jaw in annoyance and looked at him. He was painfully persistent.

“Excuse me.” You stood and nearly gave him a face full of your chest. You looked to Bucky’s girl as she listened to his incessant grumbles. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Just down there,” she pointed along the far side of the bar.

“I could show you,” Thor offered and you waved him off.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“Yes, you are,” he purred and you backed up as his eyes grazed your hips.

You were all too eager to hide in the bathroom and closed yourself in a stall as you tried not to scream. You had dealt with perverts before. Often you were the butt of some joke. The wingman settled for the chubby girl so his pal could get laid. Those types thought you were desperate and had no qualms with getting handsy on the dance floor. But college was long ago and Birch wasn’t known for its nightlife.

After a moment, you were able to steady yourself and you left the stall. You stood by the grungy sink and stared at the mirror. Why you? Why was this idiot bugging you?

You went back out with reluctant steps. You passed a drunk man at the bar talking about some feat of machismo in his foregone youth. As you neared the table, you froze in the spot as you listened.

“...she’s fat anyway.” Steve snarled and laughed meanly.

His chortle was curtailed as a chair scraped on the floor and the baker girl cried out. Thor forced Steve to his feet but the front of his tee shirt. He pulled him past his girl and brought him close as he growled down at him through flaring nostrils.

“I like you, Rogers, but your mouth makes it real hard.” Thor sneered.

“What the fuck?” Steve struggled against him, “let me go.”

“I’m not sitting here shit-talking your woman, eh. You might have little respect for them, but I do.”

“Jesus Christ!” Steve was on tip-toes as he was held up by the other man.

“Apologize.” Thor demanded.

“Wha--”

“Dammit, Steve, say sorry.” Bucky snapped.

“S-sorry, dude.” Steve stuttered.

“Not to me,” Thor turned and to your surprise, he thrust Steve around to face you. “To her.”

You stared in shock as Steve straightened his shirt. He was like a petulant child as he looked you in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

“For…” Thor prodded.

“I’m sorry I called you fat.” Steve looked away.

“I…” you didn’t know what to do or say as you glanced past him to the other girls. “Well, I am so it’s fine.”

Thor shoved Steve back and his thick brows drew together. “Don’t listen to him,” he said. “I like a little extra.”

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl interrupted as she stood suddenly, “the table’s free. How about I get Wanda and we can play some doubles, just us girls.” She touched Bucky’s shoulders, “leave the men to their business.”

Thor’s shoulders fell and he shook his head. He grinned at you even as his disappointment shone through.

“Sure,” you answered as you stepped around him. “Sounds fun.”

💀

You focused on the felt. It didn’t help block out the blazing heat of Thor’s leer. You refused to look over at him and instead pretended to be enthralled with the game of solids and stripes.

When you were a kid, you went to the youth centre and played with the rest of the kids desperate for a distraction. In uni, you enjoyed your plastic cups of cheap sambuca and coke at the campus bar and chalked up the cues. You were no expert but you could hit a good shot now and again. Your mother used to recount tales of her hustler father. Maybe it was his blood that kept your hand steady.

The other girls played as a pair as you handed off to Wanda. She wore the cut of the Birch’s club and her dark lipstick was the same shade as the leather. You saw her now and again with the men. She smoked her cigarettes out front and watched the town with indifference.

Wanda took her shot and clicked her tongue as she scratched. You shook your head as Steve’s girl scrunched her nose at the table. You were even; three stripes and three solids. She went around the far corner and awkwardly positioned herself over the side. She reached back to tug down her short skirt, she was clearly uncomfortable in the revealing outfit.

She sunk her mark but her next stopped short of the pocket. She shook her head and apologized to Steve’s girl who assured her with a pat on the shoulder. You took the cue from Wanda and walked around the table. You walked back and wondered if you could sink two in one. It was a possible angle but could you hit it?

You tilted your head and sighed. You bent and brought your foot back as you squinted and carefully positioned the cue. You couldn’t decide whether you should try to spin it to the right or hit it straight on. You knew the power you needed but you couldn’t afford to hit a stripe.

You almost tapped the cue ball as you felt a warmth over you and suddenly a hard torso was against your back. You went rigid as Thor bent over you and put his hands over your as he adjusted your aim. His hot breath wrapped around your neck.

“Almost, kitten,” he pushed his crotch against your ass.

You pulled the cue back so that it hit his ribs and he grunted as his hands fell to the edge of the table. You took the shot and pushed out of his grasp. His hand dragged over your ass as he stood straight and touched his side with a wince.

“I got it.” You said as both balls rolled and dropped into opposite pockets.

He chuckled and bit his lip. It was almost a snarl as he watched you across the table and you sensed the bated breaths of the other women.

“I like a woman with a firm grip,” he winked, “And confidence.”

You looked back to the table as he loomed on the other side. You sunk the last solid and lined up for the eight ball. A straight, easy shot that even the most amateur could get. You ended the game and Wanda clapped as the other girls grumbled their congratulations.

“Best out of three?” Steve’s girl asked.

“I’m sorry to disappoint but I have to work early.” You leaned the cue on the table. “I showed up and now I’m done. It was fun, girls, but I’m gonna turn in.”

You smiled at each of them and your face fell as you passed them and went to grab your coat from the chair where it still hung. Thor was less than subtle as he followed you to the table and watched you zip up your coat over your chest. You slung your purse over your arm and pulled your hat on as you braced for the chill that awaited you.

“You shouldn’t walk alone.” Thor intoned.

“It’s a small town. I’m fine.” You spun away and again, he followed.

At the door, you turned back and crossed your arms. “Look, I can handle myself, buddy. Now leave me alone.”

“I’m just being nice.”

“You’re being a pest.”

“You love it.”

You huffed and closed your eyes to keep them from rolling back into your skull. You looked at him again and bit down on your words. “Do you ever give up?”

“On you, never.” He grinned.

“Well, be a good dog and stay.” You jabbed your finger in the air. “Stay!” You repeated as if he was a hyper dog. “Good.”

You quickly slipped through the door and booked it across the street. The door didn’t hit the frame but was instead caught as his boots scuffed out behind you. You peered back as you reached the other side and kept up your steady jog. He watched you but did not give chase.

“I’ll sniff you out one day, kitten,” he called out. “Pussy, pussy, pussy.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #biker!thor #chubby!reader #fic #series #birch #biker au #biker!au #au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #steve rogers #bucky barnes #threequel #sequel

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bangzchan · 3 years

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hello!! i'm back with a 3x11 missing scene where Alex goes to the junkyard after the conversation between Michael and Sanders! (ao3 link)

Watching Sanders walk away, Michael hears the noise of an engine in the distance and not long after, a car pulls up. He can’t help the smile that sits out on his face when he recognizes who it belongs to,warmth rushing through his body and his nostrils flaring slightly as he takes a deep breath.

Alex is fighting a grin on his own as well as he walks up closer, looking from the ground to Michael a couple times on his short way.

„Everything’s alright?” He asks when Alex reaches him, both of them letting out a small breath they’ve been holding.

„Yeah.” Alex reassures him, „I’m on my way to Deep Sky, thought I’d check to see if you’re still here.”

Michael reaches his arm out and gently pulls on Alex’s jacket, „Well, are you pleased to see me?”

„Very.” Alex leans in and whispers against his mouth, placing both of his hands on Michael’s chest.

Alex’s lips are soft and sweet, still making Michael get lost in the kiss like it’s their first time. Forgetting about the mess of situations for a minute, he allows himself to enjoy this moment with Alex, his lips that are so familiar they almost feel like Michael’s own.

What he also forgets, though, is the crafted handcuffs he’s holding, that are now lightly stabbing Alex in the side as Michael holds him closer and tighter. He only remembers when Alex winces in the kiss, breaking apart but still in Michael’s hold, his body pulling to the other side, away from the unpleasant sting.

Michael drops his arm that holds the object to his side, Alex’s eyes following the mix of colours he’s grown to recognize everywhere.

He raises his eyebrows with a smirk after he figures out what it is exactly, remembering the call earlier with Michael, about creating something against Jones that inhibits his powers, and nods towards it. „Is that my gift?”

Michael drops his gaze, shaking his head with a grin that matches Alex’s. „You want it on you or me?” He teases.

Alex slides his hand down from Michael’s shoulder to the hand that’s still holding him, removing it from his waist, only to press their palms together, fingers intertwined. His smile is sweet but sly. „I’m not the one with alien powers.”

„Mmm,” Michael stares fondly at their hands for a moment. „Are you saying you want to strip me of my powers?” He brings his eyes to Alex’s mouth, watching as the corners of his lips twitch, smile growing bigger. His voice is quiet when he continues, like he’s sharing a secret. „All you have to do is kiss me and I’m already powerless.”

When he looks up, Alex huffs out a laugh through his nose but his face has turned serious. He bites his lips, eyes searching Michael’s while he gently rubs his thumb on the back of Michael’s hand where they’re connected.

The kiss starts out slow and it’s different, it’s as if this is Michael giving Alex permission to break him and as if this is Alex telling Michael he won’t.

There’s a breeze as they pull away and it catches into Michael’s curls, all Alex can do is smile and watch as the air gently ruffles his hair – and after he’s looked for a while, he notices something in his eyes that makes Alex believe he’s far too gone in his thoughts.

„What’s wrong?” He decides to ask but earns only a confused hm? from Michael. „I can see it in your puppy dog eyes.”

Michael groans at that, taking a step back to properly look at him, „Really? You too?” Alex is the one who’s lost now, waiting for an explanation at the strange reaction, shoulders coming up in a shrug. Michael sighs, shaking his head. „Earlier Sanders called me a pair of sad puppy dog eyes in a cowboy hat.”

„Oh?” Alex fakes surprise at hearing what perfectly desrcibes him and what he will definitely tease him with at certain times. Like, now. „You didn’t know we all call you that behind your back?”

Michael shoots him a look and if Alex didn’t know better, he would think about running. Instead, he grins and without meaning to or before he could stop it, Michael smiles back. His voice is flat, „Ha ha, very funny.”

It takes only a few seconds for the air to change around them as Alex patiently stands with him, the glow of the cuffs playing at the corner of his eyes. He thinks about Michael making them in his bunker, how his forehead would be home for a couple lines as he concentrates, or how his nose would scrunch up when something was just not right. He also thinks about his victory scream when he’d finish and Alex wishes he could’ve been there to give him and his hands the kisses they deserve.

„But uh,” Michael squeezes Alex’s hand before he lets go of it, „Sanders and I had a talk about Jones and my mom.” He starts playing with the cuffs, remembering the words. „He said I’m a lot like her. That she was brave, fighting for a better world. Didn’t give up.” He wipes at his nose with his hand then fakes a laugh, bitter and sad. „So I don’t really think he was right about me being like her.”

Alex swallows hard, hating to see Michael bring himself down, not believing in the good inside of him and what he’s capable to do with it. He wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he sees what Alex sees in him.

He sighs, „Michael.. He knew your mom and he knows you. If anyone, then Sanders would be the one who’s right about that.”

Michael throws his arms up, „I just, I don’t feel it.”

„And what, you feel Jones?” Alex snickers, „Because let me tell you, besides some alien powers and DNA, you have nothing in common with him.” Michael’s head whips up at that and he looks like he’s going to say something but he stops. Alex exhales deeply.

„Just, look how far you’ve come, Michael. You could’ve given up even as a child but you didn’t. Because like your mom,” Alex takes the cuffs from his hands, bringing them to his eyes and Michael watches them as it glows. „You’re a fighter.”

Michael takes a long, shaky breath, his arms lifeless next to his body. He looks around, „Maybe, but.. I’m scared.” It takes everything in him to admit it out loud. He’s never felt as vulnerable and weak than right now.

Alex’s response is not what he expects, his shoulders moving up and down in a shrug, nodding. „Good, you should be.” Michael stares at him bewildered, his mouth opening and closing at a loss for words. Alex tilts his head, „You’re up against an alien homicidal maniac. If you weren’t scared, it would be weird.”

They stand silently for a while, Michael letting the words get through his head and Alex hoping he’s able to. When the silence gets too long, Alex offers a smile.

„We’re all with you.”

Michael swallows to fix his dry throat, blinks away tears that threatened to fall. He tries for a smile as he speaks, his voice is weak, „Thank you, Alex.” He groans to bring himself back, lets out a laugh at how pathetic he feels and takes the handcuffs from Alex. He raises his eyebrows, „So, how about we try these?”

Alex rolls his eyes with a chuckle, bringing a hand to Michael’s cheek.

„Let’s get rid of your father, first.”

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #@ whoever reads it i hope you like it!!!#the thought of this didnt let me sleep so i had to write it out sfmlskdf #writings

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kcarreras · 3 years

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I Wanna Be Yours

Fandom: Outer Banks Pairing: JJ Maybank & Kiara Carrera Summary: It’s been a week since the Pogues arrived back in Kildare, after almost a month stranded on the island. Separated from her friends and under house arrest from her parents, JJ and Kie are finally reunited and forced to confront the consequences their time on the island has had on their relationship... Notes: This one is for @soldatstylesmaybank for hyping me up in her tags - I hope you like it! ❤️

The Pogues had been back in Kildare County for a week now.

Seven whole days since she’d last seen her friends - last seen him - on the dock after their ferry arrived back from the mainland.

Her parents had been waiting, and were on top of her almost instantly - hugging and smothering her as they led her to the back of her mom’s SUV without so much as a chance to say goodbye.

Since then, her parents had been monitoring her every move to the point she felt like she was under house arrest, and maybe she was.

She’d wake up in the mornings to her mom pulling open her curtains, sunlight flooding the room and rousing her from her sleep, pretending she was there to collect laundry... at 6am.

Her dad would check in with her at night before going to bed, pretending he was only stopping in to say goodnight, but really his motive was the same as her mom’s - he wanted to make sure she was still there.

Her homework was being dropped off at the house by her school guidance counsellor at the request of her parents, after they claimed she needed time to ‘adjust’ to being back. Really, they just didn’t want her having the opportunity to sneak off somewhere - or with someone - she shouldn’t be.

After five days of constant supervision and being on her best behaviour, she convinced them that she should at least be allowed to leave the house for work. Her dad finally agreed that she could cover some shifts at the Wreck, as long as he was there.

It wasn’t ideal, but she’d take what she could get at this point.

The next day was a quiet Sunday in late October, and with little tourists left in the area and the locals at home out of the way of the wind and rain that was rolling in from the coast, the Wreck was empty.

It was a little after 7pm when her dad made the decision to close early and send the other staff home. Once the last of the servers had left, he flipped the “OPEN” sign that hung in the door to “CLOSED”, and they began to clear up.

About 20 minutes later his cell rang, and it was Anna. Her tyre had blown out and she was stranded at the side of the road, a few miles out of town. Due to the weather, the roadside recovery company hadn’t been able to give her an estimated arrival time beyond “a few hours”, and so Mike said he’d go and pick her up.

At first he wanted Kiara to come with him, but she made a strong case for the fact that there was no use in both of them sitting in the car doing nothing for the whole journey there and back, when she could be here cleaning and boarding up the restaurant in case the weather worsened. Her father’s resolve was a lot weaker than her mother’s, who would have dragged her along anyway, and so he agreed.

He gave her the same lecture he always did when she worked a closing shift - make sure all the stoves are off, double-check the storm shutters are latched properly and don’t forget to turn all the lights off. She even jangled her keys in front of him, promising to remember to lock the door on her way out, and that she’d head straight home when she was done.

Her dad eventually left, and she locked the door behind him before heading into the cleaning closet to grab the mop and bucket.

Her dad had only been gone a few minutes when she heard the rap of knuckles against the door. Assuming he’d forgotten his keys or wallet, she huffed, dropping the mop back into the bucket - now full of hot water and citrus-scented floor cleaner - and headed to the door.

“I swear, Dad, you’d forget your own head if it wasn’t-“ she began, but as she rounded the corner, the air was knocked out of her lungs.

It was JJ.

He was standing in front of the glass door, hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders shrugged up to his ears and his hood pulled over his head as the rain hammered down on top of him, dripping from the ends of his blonde hair that stuck out from under his hood and clung to his forehead.

“Shit,” Kie breathed out under her breath, subconsciously running her hands across her apron, smoothing it out across her thighs.

When she didn’t move immediately, JJ raised an eyebrow at her.

“Is there a secret password or some shit I don’t know about?”

His voice was muffled through the door, but she could still hear the humour in it.

When she still didn’t move, he spoke again, a little more serious this time.

“Seriously, Kie? Let me in, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the exaggeration, but he was only wearing a pair of long, dark boardshorts that hung to his knees and a washed-out, grey t-shirt with a flimsy navy jacket lying open over top - all of which was clinging to him like a second skin from the rain.

Normally she’d give him stick for being so inappropriately dressed for the weather, but she herself was wearing a pair of light-wash denim shorts and a lemon-coloured vest top with thin spaghetti straps, so she really had no room to judge.

She took another breath, bracing herself as she made her way across the wooden floor, boards creaking beneath her sneakers with every step. She knew the noise would be echoing around the empty restaurant, loud and obnoxious, but she couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

She turned the key that was still in the lock and the door all but blew open into her as JJ tumbled in out of the elements.

“Finally, what took so long?” He asked, pulling his hood down and shaking his head like a wet dog, rain spraying from his dishevelled blonde head.

“Wow, JJ. Really?” Kie complained, stepping back out of his vicinity and wiping splashes off the bare skin of her arms.

When he finally lifted his head to look at her, he smiled, and something inside of her chest cracked open, and she felt some of her previous apprehension leave her body.

“Long time, no see,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Yeah. I almost forgot what you looked like,” she replied back in a similar tone, throwing the clean rag she was holding at him with a grin, before turning away from him.

“Please,” he scoffed jokingly, dragging the cloth across his face as he dried himself off.

“As if you could ever forget this face.”

Yeah, as if, Kiara thought to herself, all too seriously. Outwardly, though, she responded by giving him the middle finger over her shoulder as she continued to make her way back to her cleaning supplies.

“I know you struggle with the cursive,” she called to him, disappearing from view into the cleaning closet, “but you can read the sign that says we’re closed, right?”

“Yeah, I managed that one, thanks. I appreciate the concern, though,” he replied, pulling a stool out from the counter and perching himself upon it as she rummaged around in the closet.

“Luckily for me, I’m not here for the shrimp and grits. Unless…” he chanced his luck, but she stuck her head out of the closet for a second to scowl at him as she replied.

“Not a chance. Everything’s already been cleaned, I’m not firing it all up again to make you free food.”

“Worth a try,” he said with a shrug.

“So if it’s not the free food you’re here for, what is it?” Kiara asked him, her voice sounding distant from inside the closet.

“You,” he said, and she froze, her arm extended above her head as she reached up for another clean cloth and some spray.

After a moment she emerged from the closet empty handed, standing a few feet from him.

“Jay, we talked about this-” she began delicately, but he interrupted.

“No, actually, Kie, you talked. I just had to sit there and listen.”

Kie’s mind jolted her back to the last conversation they had before the ferry docked on the day they came home.

***

They were sitting together on a bench out on the deck, her head resting on his shoulder and their hands clasped together as they stared out to the approaching shore, the announcement signalling their arrival playing out overhead.

“So what happens now?” JJ had asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“What do you mean?” Kie had questioned back, lifting her head to look at him.

“Between you and me. I mean, these last few weeks... I don’t know. I guess I just thought things might be different.”

Kie thought back to the last three weeks - the lingering stares, the subtle but deliberate touches, their desire to be around each other all the time becoming more and more obvious as the days had gone by.

She didn’t remember exactly when things changed between them, but she did remember that last night they spent on the beach once everyone else was asleep.

She remembered the sound of his hushed laugh as it faded from his lips, his eyes shifting from piercing and glittering, to dark and wanting, as they fell from hers down to her lips, and back again.

She remembered the heavy breath he took when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, nervous but excited for what might happen next.

She remembered her breath catching in her throat when he turned at the waist to face her, his hand reaching up to brush a stray curl back from her eyes, before trailing it down her jaw to rest on the side of her neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck as he leaned in.

Her eyes had fluttered closed, and she’d stopped breathing altogether when she felt his breath against her lips.

One of her hands had tugged on his t-shirt, the other pulling down on the back of his neck as she tried to close the minimal space left between them...

But then Pope had stumbled out from the shelter just a few meters along beach, cursing as he tripped over a piece of rogue driftwood in the dark, and they had sprung apart as though they were suddenly allergic to each other.

JJ had cleared his throat as Kiara combed her fingers through her hair, and they jumped to their feet as Pope asked them what they were still doing up.

They made their usual excuse about not being able to sleep, and Pope shrugged, still half asleep as he wandered off behind the tree line, informing them he was going to take a piss.

With the moment gone, they retreated in silence back under the cover of the shelter, unaware that the next time they’d be alone to discuss it, they would be getting ready to dock back in Kildare.

“JJ, I - I don’t really know what to say.”

“Well that’s easy, Kie. You just say how you feel.”

With the dock coming in to view, the sight of her mom and dad standing at the edge, she began to feel overwhelmed, as though she couldn’t distinguish one thought from another.

She knew things had changed between them, and she knew that her parents were going to be unsufferable - that she was probably going to get shipped straight back off the island to boarding school the first chance they got.

She panicked, at what that would mean for her and JJ, and she didn’t have enough time in the next 30 seconds to think it through.

“Kie, what’s wrong?” JJ asked as she abruptly pulled away from him and got to her feet.

“Nothing, I’m fine, it’s just...” she trailed off, and the look on his face as he stared up at her broke her heart in two.

“I think it’s best that we just keep things how they are between us.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and if she thought the look he had before was heartbreaking, it was nothing compared to this.

“Okay, but-” he began as his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushed, but she cut him off.

“Look, Jay, we’ve been friends for a long time, right? And these last few months have been crazy... and, y’know, being stranded on an island for three weeks? That shit can kinda fuck with your head. And so I just don’t know if we should let any of that change what we are to each other.”

She was rambling, and he was trying desperately to keep up, but the next minute the ferry shuddered as it made contact with the dock.

“Um, my parents are here. I should go,” Kie said, turning on her heels and practically running for the ramp.

“Kie! Wait a second,” he called, chasing after her, but other passengers on the ferry had begun to make their way in the same direction and a crowd formed between them. By the time JJ had pushed his way through, Kie was already disembarked and down on the dock.

“Kie!” he called after her, hands gripping the railing of the boat as she turned back to look at him. The rest of his friends, now also down on the dock, shouted for him to hurry his ass up, unaware of everything that had just unfolded.

Kie held his eyes for a second, before mouthing a silent, “I’m sorry,” and letting her parents lead her to the car.

***

He stood from the stool, and it screeched against the wooden floor as it slid back towards the counter, putting her nerves even more on edge.

“Look, I know your parents don’t want you to see me, or any of us for that matter. But, Kie, you can’t just ghost us, alright? No one’s heard from you since we got back.”

“That’s not true. You have.” Kiara argued weakly.

JJ scoffed, throwing his hands up.

“A text saying ‘Sorry, gotta dip for a bit,’ doesn’t count, Kie, and you know it.”

“That’s not all it said,” she replied, her voice even smaller now, her eyes dropping from his.

“No, you’re right,” he admitted with a humourless laugh, and it was the most annoyed she had ever heard JJ sound, at least towards her.

“It also said ‘I miss you’. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?” he asked, his blue eyes darkening and his cheeks flushing.

“Exactly what it said! I miss you, JJ. So much. I don’t wanna be apart from you. From any of you, but-” Kiara responded, her voice a little stronger now, almost a shout as her heart hammered in her chest.

“I don’t care about anyone else, Kiara,” he replied, and it was somewhere between a shout and a laugh. Kie flinched at the use of her full name, something he didn’t do very often and it made her uneasy.

It made her feel like they were fighting, which they were.

It made her feel like he was mad at her, which he had every right to be.

It made her feel as though they weren’t JJ and Kie anymore.

Like they weren’t even friends.

And that made her want to cry. Which was ironic, because the whole reason they were in this situation in the first place was because during the three weeks they had spent stranded together - although probably some time before then, if she was being honest with herself - she realised that she didn’t want to be friends with JJ Maybank.

She wanted more.

“Jay,” she tried again, more softly, stepping toward him, but he pulled back.

“I can’t do this,” he said, and it was so quiet that she wasn’t sure he had actually said it.

“What do you mean? Can’t do what?” Kie pleaded, stepping forward again, taking hold of one of his hands in hers.

She tried to meet his gaze, but his blue eyes were darting around the room, desperately trying to look anywhere but at her.

“Jay, look at me, please,” she whispered, and a few seconds later he did.

“I can’t have this conversation with you if you’re not gonna be honest.”

“I’m trying, JJ. I am. But it’s complicated, okay? My parents said-”

“I don’t give a shit about what they have to say, Kie. This isn’t about them, or anyone else. How we feel about each other, that’s up to us. No one else is allowed to tell us shit about it.”

She dropped her eyes, which were clouded with tears that had yet to fall, and her gaze landed on their hands that were still intertwined.

As JJ slipped his hands from hers, her eyes darted up to his, scared he was pulling away from her. But then she felt his cool palms on her hot, flushed cheeks and her eyes fluttered shut for a second before looking back up at him.

“If you tell me right now that you wanna forget everything that’s happened over the last month…”

JJ took a deep breath, as if he was bracing himself for impact, before continuing.

“If you tell me that you wanna pretend that it never happened,” his voice trailed off, and her hands came up to grasp at his wrists as he continued to cradle her face.

“I’ll do that for you. If that’s what you want. But please don’t ask me to do it for anyone else.”

His head fell forward, eyes closed as his forehead came to rest against hers. Kie squeezed her eyes shut, and the tears finally fell.

JJ felt them trickle against his palms that were still pressed to her cheeks, and he opened his eyes, brushing them away with the gentle pads of his thumbs.

“Tell me what you want, Kie,”

It was all but a whisper against her lips, which were inches from his as their foreheads remained pressed together, noses brushing.

Kiara’s eyes opened and met his, holding his gaze for a second before speaking.

“I wanna be with you,” she said, and before JJ could register what was happening, she pushed herself up onto her toes until her lips met his.

He was still against her for a second until the surprise wore off, and then his mouth was moving against hers.

Her hands slid from their position around his wrists down his forearms, pulling gently until he dropped one hand to her waist and pulled her body flush to his.

Her mouth fell open when the front of his body collided against hers, and JJ’s tongue which had been running along her bottom lip made its way into her mouth with a groan. One of Kiara’s hands knotted itself in the damp material of his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer, the other snaking its way through his hair and tugging gently.

JJ grinned against her mouth, and when she felt it, she pulled back slightly to do the same. JJ took advantage of the brief pause to not only catch his breath, but to reach round behind her and untie the apron that was still around her waist. As it came undone in his hand, he tossed it on the floor behind him. His lips came back to meet hers as his hands slid down her body appreciatively, coming to a stop just under her ass. His warm fingers and the cool metal of his rings pressed into the exposed skin beneath her shorts as he lifted her until her legs were wrapped around his waist.

He walked them forward a few steps, and Kie whined at the momentary loss of contact between their mouths as he set her down on the counter.

She tugged again at his t-shirt to bring him closer, and he gladly obliged, settling himself between her legs. He hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled until they were flush against each other again, and her thighs tightened their grip around him in response.

“Fuck, Kie,” JJ breathed against her neck as his mouth dropped from hers into the crook of her neck, desperate for air.

The words and the sensation of his breath against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and he felt her arch her back in response as her chest pressed against his. A moment later, her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder, breathless.

JJ’s hands began to wander from where they had been running up and down the smooth, bare expanse of her thighs up to her waist, fingers tracing under the hem of her top that clung sinfully to her curves.

When she felt him hesitate, she lifted her head from where it was resting on his shoulder, her lips brushing his skin as she dragged them upwards across his jaw until they hovered over his again. She nodded, eyes burning into his before they fluttered closed again and her lips collided with his.

His hands pushed under her top, roaming the expanse of bare skin on her back. Kiara’s hands moved to push his jacket off his shoulders, pulling it down his arms until she heard it hit the floor with a soft thud.

The rain continued to hammer against the roof above them, and pelt off the glass windows surrounding them as the last of the sun disappeared below the horizon, casting pink and orange and purple shadows across them and the empty restaurant.

Kiara could feel the strong planes of his chest and stomach beneath the damp t-shirt that clung to him, and she wanted nothing more than to peel it from his skin and have it join his jacket on the floor.

Her hips rocked forward instinctively at the thought of it, and JJ groaned against her mouth as his fingers dug into the soft skin of her hips.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a few seconds later a snap of lightning lit up the sky and they flinched, pulling apart slightly.

They were as close as they’d ever been, noses brushing, eyelashes tickling the others cheeks, lips brushing but not quite touching as they caught their breath.

“JJ,” Kie breathed, shifting so her mouth was now against the shell of his ear, and his skin prickled as he hummed in response.

“I really don’t want this to end, but…” she trailed off with a sigh as her arms came up to drape across his strong shoulders, pulling him close as he straightened up.

“I know,” he whispered against the column of her throat, where her pulse was still hammering, before wrapping his arms around her waist in response.

They stayed like that for a minute or two, just holding each other close and taking in the moment - God knows when they’d be able to have another.

“I’m sorry,” Kie whispered into the silence, and she felt him smile against her neck before he spoke.

“Don’t be. That was further than I ever thought I’d get with you.”

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass,” she laughed against his ear before pulling back to slap him playfully on the shoulder. She let her arms slide down from where they had been wrapped around him until her palms rested flat on his chest.

JJ relaxed his hold on her too, hands coming to rest lazily against her waist as his thumbs traced circles into the bare skin between the waistband of her shorts and the hem of her top.

“I’m sorry that everything is so complicated.” She clarified, her soft, brown eyes gazing into his.

“Don’t worry about it, alright? We’ll figure it out,” he comforted with a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“So,” he said a few seconds later, followed by a cough to break the tension, “We’ve got some floors to mop, huh?”

Kiara tilted her head, a smile breaking out across her face and lighting up her features at the sight of him grinning back at her.

JJ lifted her down from the counter, setting her on her feet before turning them around so he was nearest the counter and she was facing away from him.

“Better get to it, Cinderella,” he said, smacking her gently on the ass over her shorts, and she turned to shoot him a look of mock offense over her shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna help?” she asked, nodding her head towards the cleaning closet that was still lying open.

“Sure. In a minute though,” he replied, still leaning back against the counter.

“What’s wrong with right now? I’m working under a time crunch now, thanks to you.” Kiara asked, turning to face him again with a drop of her hip as she crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised at him.

“If you must know, thanks to you,” he began, repeating her own words back to her with emphasis, “I need a minute to… regroup, if you will, before I can move from this position.”

When Kiara continued to stare at him blankly, he dropped his gaze from hers down to the front of his shorts and back again, and Kiara threw a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Right. Got it.” she replied, holding her hands up apologetically but still looking wildly amused. “Sorry about that.”

“Sure you are,” he drawled with a laugh as she moved over to where her apron and JJ’s jacket had landed on the floor, bending over to pick them.

“Not helping, Kie,” JJ groaned from over by the counter and she stood back up, turning to toss the item at him.

“My bad,” she said with a grin, re-tying her apron around her waist and picking up the mop.

A while later, when they had finished mopping the floors and had moved on to polishing glasses whilst Otis Redding played in the background on an old record player in the back office, Kie’s phone buzzed with a text from her mom letting her know they were on their way back.

***

Kiara cried as she said goodbye to JJ on the boardwalk outside of the restaurant, clinging to him as though she might never see him again because, with the way her parents had been acting, it was a real possibility.

JJ whispered comforting promises against her ear and pressed soft kisses into the now all too-familiar crook of her neck. He wiped away her tears and told her he’d see her soon, one way or another, before climbing onto his bike.

She looked on as he reached the end of the road, where he would turn left to go South and she would turn right to go North, and she had never realised it was possible to feel so close to someone and yet so far apart at the same time.

#jade writes jiara #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jj x kiara #jj x kie #jj and kiara #jj and kie #jiara #jiara fanfic

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years

Text

An Emo-pression

Virgil gives Roman an acting challenge. Roman rises to the occasion.

Word Count: 1,235

(Read it on A03!)

The mood was light in the living room. Virgil and Roman were chatting, reflecting on some of the work done by the group throughout the previous year. In the middle of it all, the running gag of everyone else doing their best ‘FALSEHOOD’ came up.

“I still think mine was the best,” Roman insisted, tilting his glass toward Virgil for emphasis. “In fact, I’d say I’m one of the best impressionists that don’t feel they have to disguise themselves.”

“I don’t know about that, Princey. Any impression you’ve done of anyone else has been overly flamboyant. If anything, you approach it like you were cast to play them in some crappy spin-off.” Knowing Roman well enough meant that Virgil could wag his finger to time precisely when Roman would react with a horrified gasp at the accusation.

“How DARE you! I’m the ac-tor of the group. My skills are not to be belittled! I merely choose to give my characters a little more energy when I play them, that’s all. And besides! The ‘falsehoods’ were our spin on it, so that can hardly count!”

“Then prove your worth as an actor. Give your best impression of me and prove I could cast you in a movie of my life. High-energy is an instant fail.” The challenge hung in the air for a few moments, allowing Virgil a chance to sip at his own drink in peace. It was a risky move to challenge Roman’s bravado, but he couldn’t help the curiosity of seeing what Roman was genuinely capable of as an actor. The prince’s eyes were on his drink, focused as he weighed his options.

“I’ll do it.”

Roman paced in a small circle in the living room, flapping his hands to try and shake off any extra energy building in him. Though it was nothing more than a small dare, he wanted to take it as seriously as an audition. It would be as good as - no, better! - than any other acting role he had taken on lately. If he were to play an emo, he’d play the broodiest emo of them all! He glanced at Virgil, who had perched on the arm of the couch. Even if the other looked relaxed, Roman knew he was being watched closely.

“Well?”

“Give me a second. I’m nearly ready. I need to be sure I can be the most miserable of emos.” Roman stopped with his back to Virgil. A long, slow breath was taken to steady himself. He turned, white jacket shifting into a generic, black hoodie. The body language flipped instantly as Roman slouched. A hand quickly moved to undo part of his hair and let it fall over one eye before he folded his arms. This was a challenge Roman was rising to, letting the ‘role’ shine in every aspect of his presentation. Nowhere was this clearer than when Virgil looked Roman in the eye.

Roman was normally animated in his facial expressions - second only to Thomas himself. Right now, there was no trace of that. Instead, his eyebrows were low, his eyes half-lidded as though exhausted. A frown pulled the corner of his lips down in a slight pout that conveyed his distaste with the world and everything that had colour in it. He even had conjured black eyeshadow to add to the part. He almost looked like he spent too much time in the darker corner of Thomas’ mind again, only less panicked.

Virgil had to hand it to Roman - he was impressed.

“Hey, look at that. The prince can be sullen for once in his life. There might be hope for you yet.” Virgil, realising he had sat forward in interest, forced himself to fall back against the couch again.

“I have to change my mindset to channel my inner turmoil,” Roman answered in a low, monotonous tone, “And that includes having three key phrases in my head at all times: ‘angst’, ‘no one can understand me’, and ‘this eyeshadow isn’t dark enough to reflect the darkness of my soul’. ” There was a twitch in Roman’s lips, one Virgil realised was an attempt to not break character with the smugness of a compliment. It was a cliché impression, but what was Virgil himself if not an emo stereotype?

“You’ve nearly got the part, but you can’t make your eyeshadow purple. So I think I’ll have to skip over you. Sorry, princey.” A flimsy excuse given by Virgil to try and backpedal. He wasn’t used to showing how he cared for Roman or dropping his guard like this. A compliment was on the tip of his tongue about how having his hair out in a loose style really suited the prince. He had to stop himself before it got out of hand. It was better to give a rejection and let Roman sulk instead of having to deal with that.

However, Roman had other ideas.

The emo look remained as he broke character. An eyeshadow palette dropped neatly on his hand following a flick of the wrist. It was well-used, leading Virgil to believe it was one from Roman’s personal collection. He popped it open and showed it to Virgil to show the reds, oranges, yellows and purples of the sunset-inspired set.

“TRY ME, BRENDON UREEK!”

The outburst took Virgil by such surprise, he burst out laughing. A hand clamped over his mouth to try and stifle them, but it was to no avail.

“What’s the matter? I think ‘Purple Bitchberry’ would be an excellent shade! Much more fitting than ‘You’ve Got to Pink A Blossom or Two’ if you ask me. Or I could go wild! Experiment with a shade I’ve never used called ‘Night at the Mauve-soleum’ -”

“Oh my God stop, these are terrible!” Virgil tried to counter in a serious manner, only for another round of giggles to knock that plan out the window. His laughs only grew in strength, his own eyeshadow began to glimmer into a dark purple. Nothing as vivid as the time after the mall encounter, but Roman thought it to be like the last sparkle of purple in the night sky. So caught up in a round of laughter was Virgil, he missed the way Roman stopped the teasing and looked on with admiration and a smile.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should try and come up with better names. But if there was to be a movie of your life, you should play the lead role. No one can be you better than you, I think.” Virgil’s eyes shot open in time to see Roman give a light shrug. “Maybe you could check if purple eyeshadow suits me sometime. I’m sure I could better look the part of an emo with the right guidance.” Roman gave a half-bow, allowing his look to return to normal.

“You - you’d wanna do that?” Virgil’s question was met with a firm nod from Roman. “And no hidden conditions for me to do something stupid?”

“As much as I’d love to get you properly fitted in royal attire, I know that’s not something you’d want to do. I don’t mind taking a day’s break from my princely looks and duties if it means I get to do so with you.”

Virgil smiled, that purple under his eyes turned a few shades brighter, and Roman knew he was on to something good.

#sanders sides fic #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #(scheduled post)#(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#(don't expect frequent and random surprise uploads from me. I simply forgot about this one)#(-points to low activity status-)

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sorryimananti-romantic · 3 years

Text

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 1

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 7.2k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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

Seohyun kicked a pebble with her boot, sending it flying in the air. The black cat following Seohyun meowed as it wandered between her legs, rubbing itself along her naked legs. Seohyun kicked another pebble, and the cat meowed louder.

"I know, I know," she said, sighing, "I shouldn't have helped him."

The cat's grey eyes twinkled and it jumped a little to keep pace with Seohyun. She adjusted her sunglasses with the tip of her finger and tucked her long hair behind her ears, keeping her eyes fixed to the ground in hopes of finding more pebbles that she could kick.

Seohyun's hands went to the straps of her school bag on her shoulders as she finally found one, and she smirked. "Hey kitty, I'm gonna kick this one real hard."

As if the cat understood, it sat near her to watch the scene. Seohyun aimed her foot, sending the pebble flying with full force as a short laugh escaped her. She waited for the satisfying sound of the pebble hitting something hard, but a wail of pain answered her instead.

"Oops," Seohyun grimaced as she motioned the cat to follow her, trying to flee before she was caught. However, luck was rarely on her side.

"It was you, right?" She heard a boyish voice call out. She sneaked a peek, seeing a group of colourful heads belonging to boys that grew larger and larger as more joined them.

"I thought I hit one? Why are there so many..." she muttered, then turned back, bowing her head in a quick apology and turning again to run away, almost tripping on the cat and it howled in pain before following her.

"Hey, stop!" She heard voices, and she just sped up. She had enough to worry about.

"Where are my ghost friends when I need them.." Seohyun muttered under her breath as she sped up, cursing mentally. She could hear steps draw closer by every second, and she finally turned abruptly, making the group of boys stop dead in their tracks, bumping at each other.

"I apologized, what do you all want now?"

"You never apologized," the blue haired one said.

"Why do you think I bowed? To thank you?" Seohyun retorted. The blonde snickered, earning a kick in his ribs from not one but two of them.

"We couldn't see from so far, at least apologize properly!"

"Alright, alright. Was it you who got hit?"

"No, it was-"

Seohyun sighed out loud. "What got you so worked up then, if it wasn't even you?"

"He's my friend?" The blue haired boy said, making it sound more like a question.

"I told you all not to make a fuss, it's not like she did it on purpose," Seohyun heard one of them say, and her eyes shifted towards the boy with black hair, the eyebrow slit further defining his sharp features. Indeed, he was hurt. There was a painful scratch where the pebble must have grazed his cheekbone.

"Ah, so it was you..." Seohyun bit her lip. She thought she should apologize properly, so she bowed properly this time, and got up. "I never meant to hurt anyone. I'm sorry."

His eyes burned holes in her even though she wore sunglasses. He pursed his lips, nodding. "It's okay, just be careful next time."

She nodded. "Can I go now?" She didn't wait for an answer and turned, motioning the cat to come along, who meowed.

"Wait!" The eyebrow-slit boy sat down on one knee, motioning the cat to come to him, who gladly obliged and Seohyun rolled her eyes. He smiled at the cat, rubbing its head and offering it a biscuit, which the cat graciously accepted, munching right into it.

"Do you even give your cat food? It's so thin."

"It's not mine," Seohyun said and the boy's head turned up to look at her, curiosity in his eyes obvious. "It followed you rather gladly."

Seohyun just shrugged, looking away from his gaze and observing the group now. They were all dressed in school uniform like her, but it looked like it was a different school. She internally smiled at the interesting mix that stood in front of her.

"San, let's go," she heard the red-head call out. San, she thought.

"I need to go now too." Seohyun said, waiting for the boy to stop playing with the cat.

The boy- San- got up and said, "You said it's not yours. Can I take it then?"

Seohyun almost said yes, but hesitated. It was true the cat was not hers, but at this point, she could call it hers, the way it always followed her around whenever she was out. She had rather grown attached to the constant presence of her black furry friend.

"Uhh, I mean you could, but..." she bit her lip as she looked back as if for help, and then turned back to the boy. "This cat is my only friend."

Seohyun hated how it had almost come as a whisper, but the boy looked like he understood as he nodded, taking a step back. "I'll see you around then," he smiled sweetly at the cat, who meowed at him.

Seohyun finally turned, not bothering to check if the cat followed her or that boy, San. She was too scared to check. But when she heard the cat meow and rub at her legs, she smiled in relief.

"I'll feed you more now, I promise," she smiled at the cat.

Meanwhile, San watched the odd pair walk away in the distance.

"So rude!" the blue haired boy said, and everyone laughed. San turned and shook his head. "Not my fault you decided to act like my parent, Hongjoong."

"Doesn't look like she's from our school, but isn't it the school near the place we usually go to eat dinner?" The blonde asked.

"Yeah, it looks like it. You're treating us to dinner there tomorrow. You remember, right Yeosang?"

"You're always hungry for food Wooyoung, how could I forget?" He answered.

The group started to walk their way, talking about their plans for dinner, but San couldn't stop thinking about the girl with the grey streaks in her hair, the girl who had no friends other than a black cat. He unconsciously shook his head, finally paying attention to his present.

----------

"I said I'm sorry!" Seohyun yelled, "Now you leave my hair, and I'll leave yours."

"You first," the woman replied.

"Together, okay? One, two, three- YOU! You lied!"

"You lied too!" The woman shouted, and pulled at Seohyun's hair, earning a satisfactory groan from her.

"It's not like you can feel pain! You're a freaking ghost!"

"Doesn't mean I'm not insulted," the woman smirked, "Alright, I'll leave you first, and you leave no more than a second after, otherwise I'll make sure you feel the pain you love." The woman let go of Seohyun's hair and Seohyun did so right after, taking quick steps backward as she massaged her head.

"Bitch..." she muttered, and the woman laughed out loud.

The woman- ghost- had been keeping Seohyun company for about two months now, occasionally popping out of nowhere and leaving just as abruptly. At first, Seohyun had tried to help her in some way, help her move on and come to terms with her sudden death by accident, but the young woman had quite a difficult death and she was the first of a kind- a ghost with amnesia. No memories of how she had died and why she hadn't moved on.

Seohyun had to admit that she had grown used to her presence. She often found herself narrating her uneventful day to her, just like today, when she had excessively complained how useless of a friend she was and how none of her ghost friends had ever done her a favour. Somehow that had turned into an argument and then to them resorting to pulling each other's hair our, except her ghost friend couldn't feel any pain since she was, well, a ghost. Dead.

"I mean," Seohyun continued, fiddling with her hair, "it would have saved me from embarrassment had you popped up and helped me out there."

"What could I have done?" The woman sat down on the pavement, the black cat gladly jumping on her lap as the woman ran her hands through her fur. "It's not like anyone else can see me."

"Hello? You could have made me disappear."

"You know it's not good for your health. Why do it unless absolutely, absolutely necessary?" The woman glared at her.

"YES! That was absolutely, absolutely necessary. There were 8 of them! I was alone!" Seohyun whined and the woman just ignored her.

"Unnie~" Seohyun sat down near her, and the woman slid away from her.

"I told you not to call me that. I have a name, and it's Jiwoo."

"How can I call you by your name? You're much older than me." Seohyun grinned.

"And that's why I don't help you. Because you're a stubborn one. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm not that old."

"That's rich coming from you," Seohyun retorted, ignoring the last remark, "I'm not the one refusing to move on just because I can't get enough of worldly pleasures."

"And that's my cue to leave you alone, like you always are. There's a reason you don't have friends, Seohyun." Jiwoo got up, putting the curled cat on the pavement.

"I do have friends-"

"I'm talking about human friends. Your sharp tongue and stubborn heart, it's about time you change that."

"I-" Before Seohyun could complete, Jiwoo disappeared. Seohyun sighed, her heart sinking a bit at her harsh but true words.

There was indeed a reason that she had no friends. And it wasn't her ability to see ghosts.

Seohyun pulled her knees to her chest, shutting her eyes. She wanted to disappear.

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

Senior year of high school was supposed to be tough, yes, but Seohyun had to face challenges other than academic ones.

And it wasn't just the fact that she had no social life at all; she only had a group of people she could interact with if need be, otherwise she was perfectly content on being on her own. She had no problem staying amused in her own company.

The problem was with Seohyun, though not directly. It was the problem that she could see and interact with some of the dead. And the dead made sure she got in trouble if she didn't hear their woes and skipped school to maybe find them something (or someone) they had an attachment to, or didn't take them to their loved ones immediately.

She had often tried to reason with them; she tried to explain that she was perfectly aware how bad they must have it, but she had it worse since she was still alive, and with life came unforeseen consequences, such as having to face her mother if they caused a scene (which they usually did), or if they tried to grab her attention by any means necessary, such as causing her desk to fall, her stuff to fly (where she would immediately have to either hold it or pretend to have thrown it).

She tried, oh she tried so hard to tell them to wait until she was free from school and then she would do whatever they asked her to, but no. Apparently whatever they wanted to do was more important than her school, her reputation (already in ruins), everything. There rarely was someone patient enough, and those she made sure she looked after properly. Like Jiwoo.

She wished Jiwoo was here so she could get rid of the old wrinkly man in front of her. She was trying to focus on her mathematics but it was hard to when a fat belly blocked her vision. And she couldn't even say anything out loud, so she just sent daggers through her eyes, the message in her eyes clear. But the old man just smirked, continuing to block her vision.

Seohyun sighed and turned the page of her notebook, scribbling in it, then turned the notebook to the ghost in front of her. The man was short so he didn't have to bend as he read what she had written.

"IF YOU COULD STOP PESTERING ME FOR A FEW MINUTES YOU WRINKLY OLD MAN I CAN'T FOCUS ON MATHS BECAUSE OF YOU"

The old man smirked, and Seohyun wished she could kick him somewhere he would surely feel pain even though ghosts couldn't feel pain. She was so absorbed in thinking of ways that she could make this ghost feel pain that she didn't notice him take her notebook and run away before she could snatch it back.

As soon as Seohyun noticed, she jerked in her seat, stopping herself from getting up and following him. He stopped a few feet away, teasingly coming closer and closer, the frown on Seohyun's face getting deeper and deeper until he stopped near the girl sitting in front of her, tore a page from her notebook and gave it back.

And then he did what she dreaded. He made a ball out of that paper, aimed at the teacher, taking one last look at the very satisfying horrified face of the girl who could see ghosts but refused to help them, and threw the paper ball at the teacher with considerable force, hitting him on his head.

The teacher turned, running his eyes across the classroom, not missing how everyone was glancing between the teacher and Seohyun, who folded her arms rather defensively, silently praying he wouldn't actually pick the paper ball. But the teacher bent down, and it so happened that he was also old, and a bit wrinkly, so when he read the scribbled message, his face went red.

"Who was it?!" The teacher pushed his glasses up his nose-bridge and watched as the students hesitantly pointed to Seohyun, who sank deeper into her chair, as if somehow a pit would open and swallow her.

"You meet me in my office after class." The teacher shook his head in disappointment and continued where he left.

Seohyun was given a warning, and it was her second. She had only one left before she would be kicked out of school (if something big happened, which usually did if she waited for the third warning) so she decided it was time for her to move on again.

And this time she dreaded. It was always a hassle to explain to her mom what had happened. Her mom knew she could see ghosts and when she was little, she had tried all sorts of methods, of almost all religions she could think of, hoping her only daughter would turn out normal, but she had failed. But now she liked to pretend that she had forgotten all about it, and when Seohyun told her she had gotten into trouble, she would silently nod and get her to change schools before something big happened and it got written in her school record.

So a few attempts from the old ghost trying to get her in trouble and a few days later, Seohyun was finally free of struggling. She changed schools. And tomorrow would be her first day, hopefully the last time she had to change schools before her senior year ended. Before high school ended.

Seohyun was still dressed in her old school's uniform when she went to her new school to submit her files and make sure everything was good before her first day. She had her baseball cap on this time, making sure she would hide most of her face since a lot of people would be staring at her. It was normal to stare when someone from another school came.

The black cat found her once again, following her as she walked to the building. Seohyun motioned the cat to stay and it obeyed, watching the girl walk into the building.

From a distance, San and his friends were watching the whole scene. They had recognized the girl not by her face, which was half-hidden anyway, but her cat and the grey streaks in her hair.

"Let's hope she doesn't attack you with a pebble again," Yunho snickered, and San smiled, his hand unconsciously going to the now faint scratch on his face.

"I'm not going to your rescue if that happens," Hongjoong said and Seonghwa chimed in, "Neither will I."

"I never asked you anyway..." San trailed off.

"The cat looks like it wants to escape," Jongho pointed his finger at the hoard of girls that gathered around the poor cat. "Poor cat."

"San, you should go bring the cat. It would recognize you," Mingi suggested and San considered. The cat was worth saving.

A few moments later, San was back with the cat in his arms. The cat did recognize him. He bought the cat to the boys, who lightly patted her one by one, taking turns so she wouldn't feel scared.

After about five minutes, the boys heard someone clear their throat right behind them. They turned to see it was that girl.

"Aren't you the same group from that day?" Seohyun wondered out loud.

"The cat was scared because people were gathering around her, so we brought her here," Yeosang said.

"That's... kind of you," Seohyun met eyes with each of them, and the boys got a proper look at her face for the first time without her glasses. She had light eyes. The shadows beneath her eyes were dark, which contrasted with her eyes rather strikingly.

"What were you doing here? You're not from our school," Wooyoung commented.

"Oh, I'll be joining from tomorrow..." Seohyun realized somehow she's ended up in the same school as the boys. "What class are you in?"

"Senior year, all of us," Wooyoung replied, and they didn't miss her groan.

"I'm guessing you're senior year too," Seonghwa asked, earning a nod of confirmation.

"How ironic. What if you end up in our class?" Yeosang wondered.

"God forbid," Seohyun shook her head, making them smile despite her remark. "Now, should I leave the cat here, or..."

"Does it have a name?" San asked, rubbing under the cat's chin.

"Uh, no actually," Seohyun faltered when she saw San give her a disappointed look, "I just call her kitty. You can give it a name if you want to."

"I'll think about it," San shifted his arms to hand the cat over to Seohyun, and she took it, placing the cat on her shoulders, waiting until she sat around her neck like she usually did.

"I guess I'll go now," she met eyes with San for the last time, noticing the mole on his eyelid. San nodded, and she muttered an awkward bye before walking past them, cursing at herself mentally for being so awkward with them.

"It's you who got me in trouble, you dumb cat," she muttered under her breath. The cat didn't even bother reply.

The boys watched her leave, and Yeosang finally spoke, "I have a feeling she'll be in our class now. Oh, how the tables have turned."

"Interesting," Jongho smiled, "Does San have a new friend now?"

"The cat? Sure." San smirked.

"Ah, let's see how that changes," Jongho retorted, smirking back.

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

Seohyun tried to calm her nerves as she looked at herself in the mirror of the girls' toilet in her new school.

The nerves always got the better of her whenever it was her first day at a school. It usually took her about three days to get comfortable with a new environment. Seohyun sighed as she wiped her sweaty palms on her black skirt, staring at her light brown eyes. She wished she could cover them with her sunglasses so she could avoid the excessive eye contact with humans and ghosts. Sadly, she couldn't do that in class.

She finally took a deep breath and somehow managed to make herself walk to the office, where she met her homeroom teacher, a middle-aged woman. She walked along with her to her class, and the teacher smiled warmly at her as she nudged her to come along.

They entered the class and watched as the boys and girls went back to sit at their seats, the room slowly falling silent. The teacher cleared her throat.

"Good morning class, we have a new student today. Please introduce yourself."

Seohyun, who had been looking down the entire time, finally gathered whatever courage she had and ran her eyes along the class as she finally spoke.

"Good morning, I am Lee Seohyun. I hope we can get along well."

"Alright, why don't you find yourself a seat?" The teacher said and Seohyun nodded, looking at the few empty seats and considering her choices.

Her first priority was to sit as far away as possible. Preferably by the window. There was one empty seat in the furthest row, but it was next to the seat by the window already occupied by someone-

It was one of those boys. She only knew San's name for now, and it was the blonde one. She quickly scanned her other options and decided this was the best for now.

As she made her way, she realized the 8 of them were all sitting around the empty seat that she was about to sit on. San was in front of her, the strawberry blonde on her other side, the rest around them too. She wondered if the seat belonged to one of their friends so she quietly asked the blonde, "Is this seat free?"

He shook his head and she internally sighed in relief as she settled herself, focusing on whatever the homeroom teacher said, trying not to stare holes at the back of San's head, until she left a few minutes later and she slumped back in her chair.

San finally turned, raising his brows, "What a coincidence."

Seohyun shrugged, straightening her skirt. "Ironic, really."

"Is there a reason you changed schools?" The blonde turned towards her, resting his head on his hand as he looked at her curiously.

"Uh," Seohyun hesitated as she tried to recall her excuse for every time someone asked her this, "for convenience. It's closer to home."

"That's an interesting reason to change school," he replied, earning a shrug.

"Maybe she doesn't want to tell you why exactly. Am I right?" San locked eyes with her, his smirk growing.

"Maybe," Seohyun teased back.

"How's your cat?" She heard someone call, and she looked at the black haired boy.

"It's not exactly mine, but it's fine. Probably."

"That's... reassuring. I'm Wooyoung by the way. This is Yeosang-" he pointed to the blonde next to her, "San, and that's Yunho next to you."

She looked at Yunho and he waved shyly. "That's Seonghwa," he pointed in front of him, and when Seohyun nodded, he continued, "The blueberry is Hongjoong, the red one is Jongho, and that's Mingi over there."

Seohyun nodded slowly, looking at them all slowly. "Yunho, Seonghwa, Hongjoong blueberry,-"

"I heard that!" Hongjoong shouted, turning around and making a pout at Seonghwa. Ignoring him, she continued, "San, Jongho in the front, then Mingi beside him, Wooyoung and Yeosang. I got it."

"You're quick," Yunho grinned. Seohyun wished she could tell him that it was because of the several hundred ghosts she had met and had promised never to forget their names.

"So the 8 of you are friends?" She asked, and San nodded. "Why was this seat in the middle empty then?"

"Mingi used to sit here but his eyesight got worse so he moved to the front."

"Well, that explains..."

Their teacher walked in, a man in his 30s, and she found out he was to be her math teacher. At least he's not old and wrinkly, she thought as she took out her notebook.

---------

The rest of her day was uneventful, except for the break when the boys asked if she wanted to join them but she didn't. She said she had to go to the office, but that was a lie. She wanted to take a breather.

When they left, she looked again at her options. She was already regretting sitting among the group of friends. She was going to be a disturbance to them, or something even worse. She didn't want them to think she was weird. Not yet.

She surprised herself at the thought. Why did she care? She had never cared before. But she told herself it was probably because she had a few encounters with them before and it would be weirder if they found out now. That she was strange. They'd probably stop talking to her very suddenly. That part always hurt her, which was why she always avoided making friends.

Seohyun shook her head and looked at the empty seat in the middle of the room. The spot was out of question. Being in the middle of the room meant she could be surprised from anywhere by those damned ghosts.

Then there was one in the very front with the wall. She could go there, but...

She felt more comfortable here. The spot was perfect. The problem was the boys. They were in for disappointment.

She saw some girls staring at her. They were probably considering if they should talk and make friends with her. But Seohyun was in no mood for friends, so she just put her head on the desk and closed her eyes.

She almost drifted to sleep when she heard someone put something on her desk. She got up and saw that it was San. "We figured you didn't have time for lunch, so."

Seohyun looked from the bread and juice to San, and back at the food presented to her. "Thank you, that's uh... very kind of you?" She looked at San and Yeosang, and they laughed shamelessly at her.

"You don't sound so happy," Yeosang commented and she shook her head, sipping at the juice to prove her point as she said, "No, actually I'm glad, but it wasn't necessary."

They just shook her head at her, smiling as they absorbed themselves in some discussion. Seohyun silently ate the bread, wishing she could disappear because she didn't even know how to thank people properly.

At that moment, Jiwoo the ghost appeared, and Seohyun muttered, "About freaking time."

Jiwoo laughed and said, "I see you're having a good day."

"And I don't expect you to ruin it, so please live up to my expectations for once," Seohyun hissed, keeping her voice as low as possible, but it still made Seonghwa look at her once before he focused back on his friends.

Seohyun sighed. She couldn't write in her notebook now because they would definitely see it. And she couldn't talk. So she just folded her arms as she slowly sipped on the juice while Jiwoo danced around the classroom.

As soon as the bell rang indicating the end of the day, Seohyun sighed in relief. The day was over without any incident. She slowly packed her bag, thinking about her promise to meet a new ghost after her school. It was a girl about her age, and thankfully she understood what school demanded of her, so she had promised to not disturb her.

"You look ready to go to your bed and fall right asleep," Yeosang commented.

"Tell me about it," Seohyun muttered, wearing her bag and making her way out of the class, the boys not far behind.

San watched Seohyun walk as if she was in a hurry but couldn't care less at the same time. She would speed up, then slow down again, and repeat.

"Are you in a hurry?" Wooyoung asked her, falling in step with her.

"Uh, not really. Just can't wait to get home," she said, but her voice didn't match what she said. She sounded the least excited to do that.

"Long day, huh?" Wooyoung said and she finally passed him a smile. "So you know no one at this school?"

"Well," she said, "I am new."

"Well, you can be our friend. Only if you want to."

She stopped in her track, making San almost bump in her, and she muttered a sorry to him as she continued walking again. San decided he would join them now.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Not sure you'd like me as a friend."

"And why do you think that?" San looked at her curiously.

Seohyun sighed, "I'm... how do I put it? I don't think I need friends. But that sounds rude. I don't mean to sound rude, it's just... better if you all don't mind me. I'd only be a bother and make everyone uncomfortable."

"We don't mind. We weren't all friends from the beginning. The group grew larger with time."

"And why do you think you don't need friends?" San asked.

Seohyun looked at him, then looked away, trying to avoid his steel gaze. "Not the type of person anyone would like as a friend."

"We won't know until we try though," Wooyoung said and smiled at her, making Seohyun wonder why the world didn't have more Wooyoungs.

"No harm in trying, right?" Yunho, who was behind her, vouched in.

Seohyun stopped to look at the odd group of friends, who were all smiling cheekily.

"You sure, blueberry?" She asked Hongjoong, who gasped in surprise. Yunho laughed out loud.

"If you don't call me blueberry, then why not?"

"Blueberry." Seohyun said and turned to walk away, hearing everyone laugh and make fun of Hongjoong. She saw the familiar figure of the ghost she had decided to meet, and she motioned with her eyes to turn to their left.

The ghost understood and it waited for her to turn left too. Seohyun looked back once at the boys who were now a good few steps behind, and she turned left, hoping no one had seen her, saw the empty road and joined hands with the ghost. She felt the familiar feeling of her heart sinking and her stomach flipping as the ghost teleported her to where it wanted to go.

The boys, who did notice her turning left in a hurry, followed soon after, only to find a very empty road with no where she could have gone or hidden.

"She did turn left. Right?" Mingi asked.

"She did. Didn't she? Or am I losing it finally?" Jongho muttered.

"Maybe it wasn't her?" Wooyoung suggested.

"But it was her. The grey in her hair..." Yunho said. "Maybe she turned right?" He looked at his right, where a few students were walking too.

San had been watching her and he was very sure she had turned left. Where she had gone... was a mystery.

"Strange..."

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

"That's... horrible."

Seohyun stood in front of a small house, the white walls glaring back at her. The ghost, a young girl only her age, had just teleported her to an empty alley near this house, which belonged to her best friend. The ghost had just finished telling her how she had died; a road accident by a drunk driver. Since she had died an untimely death, she couldn't do anything about it except mourn over her own death.

"But... people who die in such accidents usually like to make sure justice is served, and get the perpetrator punished. Don't you wanna do that?"

"Oh, I did," the girl pushed her long black hair back, "my parents are doing a good job there, so I wanna let them continue. I don't... want them to know that I'm still here. They should find their peace with all this."

"Wow," Seohyun couldn't help but be amazed at how thoughtful this girl was, "that's very wise of you actually. So what are we doing here?"

"I checked on my friend, Chaeyoung, and it seems like she's not... doing well. I want to somehow let her know that I'm okay. I think that's when I'll be able to move on."

Seohyun, for once, felt actually sorry for the friend. She didn't have a best friend so she couldn't relate, but having someone like that in your life and so suddenly losing them... must be very sad.

"Okay, let's do this," Seohyun said, taking a deep breath and taking off her baseball cap off. She smoothened her uniform and finally rang the bell.

"What if someone else is home, and she creates a ruckus-"

"I checked, she's alone for now." The girl said, and again, she mentally applauded the girl for being so thoughtful.

"Hey, what was your name again? I mean how do I introduce-"

At that moment, a tall girl sporting a bob and puffy eyes fresh from crying opened the door.

"Hi," Seohyun said.

"Do I know you?" Chaeyeong asked.

"You don't, but I'm here to talk to you. I heard your friend recently passed away-" Seohyun paused when Chaeyoung rolled her eyes and attempted to shut the door at her face.

"Wait!" Seohyun said and Chaeyoung paused.

"My name is Soojin." The ghost finally said, and Seohyun looked at her once, catching her nervous stance before turning back to Chaeyoung.

"You might not believe it, but Soojin is here," Seohyun said, and Chaeyoung pursed her lips. "And I don't have all day, so I'll just prove it. Soojin told me some stuff only the two of you would know. How you had a crush on her brother for the longest time, how you want to meet your childhood best friend who's moved to the States, how-"

"Wait," Chaeyoung stepped out, "How- when did Soojin tell you this? Are you Soojin's friend?"

"My name is Seohyun. and I'm sure you've never heard of me from Soojin," Chaeyoung nodded and Seohyun continued, "Soojin is here. She hasn't been able to move on to the afterlife or whatever it is ahead because she can't stand seeing you in pain and blaming yourself because you invited her over to meet with you. She wants you to know that her parents are doing a great job at making sure the drunk driver gets punished, and she wants you to know it's not your fault."

Seohyun watched Chaeyoung's eyes fill with tears at that, and she put a hand in front of her mouth as tears fell, "She's really here?"

"Right here," Seohyun pointed towards where Soojin stood.

"Can't I see her?" Chaeyoung asked, "I want to see her one last time. If I can."

"I'm afraid not," Seohyun sighed, "I don't know if that's possible. But she can see you and hear you right now, just like me. So I'll leave you to say your last goodbye. You can call me when you're done, okay Soojin?"

Soojin nodded and Seohyun went into the little garden in the house to give them some space. She watched as Chaeyoung cried and spoke to her best friend for the last time, falling to her knees. Soojin couldn't touch her, but she patted her head and it was like Chaeyoung could actually feel it.

Seohyun looked up at the cloudy sky. For once, she wished it was sunnier.

After a few minutes, Soojin called out to Seohyun. She awkwardly patted Chaeyoung on the back, and Soojin started speaking as Seohyun told Chaeyoung that Soojin loved her, and yes, it was her who kept sticking their photo back at the wall to give her a sign, and she wanted Chaeyoung to stop talking to the walls because she won't be there to listen to her anymore and that would only make her look crazy (at which Chaeyoung laughed).

"I don't have a best friend, but you guys, you both had something special. And I'm saying this from my self, that I hope you cherish the bond you both had in your heart and really move on. Do what you want to, because life is short," Seohyun said and smiled.

"Thank you. I'll do my best," Chaeyoung wiped the last of her tears.

"She's going now," Seohyun said, "She wants you to smile so that's the last thing she sees."

Chaeyoung smiled as tears fell from her eyes, and Soojin said, "This fool. I told her to smile."

"Stop being so petty, Soojin, she is smiling!"

"What did she say?" Chaeyoung asked.

"She said she asked you to smile, not cry," Seohyun said and Chaeyoung burst out laughing.

Soojin thanked Seohyun for helping her, and she watched as she shut her eyes, and disappeared in an instant.

Seohyun sighed, and Chaeyoung understood. "Thank you, Seohyun. I hope we can meet again?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Seohyun shook her head, "I just hope you'll have a good life ahead."

"I feel bad for not doing anything for you, maybe I could take you for some coffee next time?"

"Well, actually," Seohyun looked around, "there is something you can do. Can you tell me where I am? And can you call me a taxi?"

-----------

It turned out Seohyun was actually quite a while from home, so Chaeyoung ended up paying for the taxi because she felt bad for Soojin being so thoughtless when she teleported her here (at which Seohyun admitted Soojin was one of the wisest ghosts she had encountered). About 40 minutes later, Seohyun decided to drop by at a food street, because she was starving.

Seohyun walked through the hustling street, various food carts lining the street, several restaurants and cafes amidst them. She decided jjajangmyeon would do, so she sat alone at the table in the street, waiting for her meal. She was too tired to look at her phone so she just watched the people walking and eating.

She wished Jiwoo was here. Better than having no company. She wouldn't admit it, but she had grown quite used to her company. Jiwoo still hadn't been able to recall her memories of who she was and how she died, and why she was still hanging around. So Seohyun had left her at it.

Seohyun was so lost thinking about Jiwoo that she didn't notice Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Mingi approaching her until they stopped right in front of her.

"Of all the places," Seohyun wondered out loud, not caring how it might sound to them.

"It seems like we were meant to meet today," Mingi said dramatically, and Hongjoong slapped his arm as he said, "It looks like you haven't gone home yet. Isn't it very late?"

Seohyun sat back in her chair, putting one leg on top of the other. "And what do you care?"

"Ah, so that's what you meant when you said people don't like to have you as a friend," Hongjoong said, and Seonghwa gasped at his friend as he scolded him, but stopped when Seohyun laughed out loud.

"Since you're here, are you gonna take a seat or will you be continuing to walk aimlessly?"

"I guess we'll take a seat," Mingi said, and they all sat and decided to order food first.

"Aren't you cold?" Seonghwa asked, as he noticed how Seohyun put her bag on her bare legs.

"I am. But I'm okay," she said, and Seonghwa shook his head as he started to take off his jacket. "Oh please, I'm okay, I'll feel really bad if you do this."

"Nonsense, this is an extra layer anyway," Seonghwa handed her the jacket and she realized it was true; he did have many layers on him. So Seohyun put his jacket on her legs, muttering a thank you.

"So what's your story?" Hongjoong asked, and Seohyun raised her brows as she said, "You first. I'll talk after I have some food."

"Alright then," Hongjoong said, and told her how they all had been classmates since elementary, with Seonghwa and Hongjoong being friends since that time, until Wooyoung and Yeosang who had also been friends joined, then one by one the group grew.

"Interesting," Seohyun said, "And the 8 of you... How do you get along peacefully? I can't even get along with one."

Mingi pfft-ed at her. "We aren't exactly saints ourselves, but with us being 8, it becomes hard to take anyone serious."

Seohyun scoffed, "So the reason you all get along so well is because you all don't take anyone serious."

"Basically, yes," Mingi answered proudly, and food was served. Seohyun hungrily dig in, and Seonghwa scolded her for eating so quick.

"So with Seonghwa as a mother figure of the group," Seohyun began, "I can imagine why there is peace among all of you."

"Ha. ha. Very funny," Seonghwa rolled his eyes but Hongjoong and Mingi laughed, agreeing with her as they said, "She's not wrong."

She watched them bicker back and forth and wondered if this could really work out. They seemed very tightly knit, and she felt like an intruder. She wasn't even sure if they would feel comfortable with her. Why had they even asked her to be their friend?

"It really does show. That you've been friends for a long time," Seohyun commented, fiddling with her noodles.

"It does, huh?" Mingi smiled at her.

"Can I ask you something?" Seohyun said, and they nodded, "Why did you ask me to be your friend? I mean, you guys look okay as you are now. You don't need an extra friend in this group of yours. So why ask, and why me?"

"Well, how do I put it..." Hongjoong wondered out loud.

"You've got good aim," Mingi said, and for a second, Seohyun was lost before she realized.

"I didn't do that on purpose!" Seohyun's eyes were wide, and Mingi told her that he, of course, was joking, But he winked right after, which made her wonder if that was actually one of the reasons.

"Our group needs a girl. There are too many boys." Seonghwa said, and Seohyun raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure there's no lack of girls in your school."

"There isn't... but they are too... girly?" Hongjoong seemed to think how to put it, and Seohyun folded her arms.

"And what if I am girly too?" Seohyun countered.

"You're just the right amount of weird. Yeosang already clicked so well with you. San loves your cat. You sit in the middle of us. You have no friends. Now you can't avoid it."

"Wow, okay," Seohyun finished her noodles as she thought about what they had said. "And what if... we don't get along?" Seohyun asked.

"We're not exactly forcing you, are we?" Hongjoong asked and she nodded, "If you like to stay alone, then fine. But Wooyoung, it was his idea. And he really knows when a person needs a friend."

"Oh," Seohyun realized what he meant. She looked like she needed friends.

"Plus, we do get along well, don't you think?" Mingi smiled.

"Well, what can I say, except that you'll find me really weird. And okay, I can try. But one day, you're gonna wonder why you even thought we could be friends. You'll wish you'd never asked me."

The three of them stared at her. Seohyun stared back and once again, the three of them burst out laughing.

"We're already regretting. Was it so hard to make friends, Hongjoong?" Mingi asked.

"I don't even remember. Wow."

Seohyun couldn't help but laugh as she thought how it was gonna be. It was true. No one took anything serious.

Maybe they'll never find out about her ghost problems then.

Or maybe they'll never believe her.

----------

98 notes · View notes

superhero--imagines · 4 years

Text

Part 1 here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here!

A/N: I can’t always do tags since these parts are long but if you want to be tagged just lmk @thecrazytealady

* Honestly, everything feels so normal

* You’re sitting in the stands of a football stadium as a sea of graduates pass in front of you

* Well it’s mostly normal except for all the stares you get

* “You’ll get used to it” Kate tells you from your right side, you’re not sure when it happened but somehow you’ve become her favorite little member.

* “Sometimes we stare back to mess with them” Irina says from your other side with a teasing grin.

* Irina also seems to really like you, she’s probably you’re favourite

* While everyone else treated you like a child (which in a sense you are), she treated you like an adult

* You hope you can save her if things go exactly like they did in the book

* You’re hoping your close friendship with Edward changes things

* “Oh look there they are now-“

* And right on cue Alice was called first, then Edward

* An entire group of cheers erupt from your section, a few stands above you sits the entire Cullen clan

* Apparently the rest of them have already “graduated”, Alice and Edward are playing a year younger

* You catch him after the ceremony on the -pretty cold- field along with your-

* aunts?

* You’re not really sure what the official family structure is.

* “So what is this, your thirtieth time graduating high school?” You whisper to him after handing him his graduation present

* Some sheet music you know he’s been eyeing and a card that says “you only graduate once”

* You think he’ll appreciate the joke

* “It actually only my sixth” he grins, he so close you can feel a ghost of a breath on your ear

* You notice a couple of boys, adorning similar green graduation gowns staring at you. When you meet their eyes they hastily look away.

* “Hey Edward, what are those guys thinking right now?”

* He follows your line of sight and grins even wider

* “They’re thinking that it suddenly makes sense why I’m not interested in anyone at this school when I’m already dating someone as beautiful as you”

* And if you were anyone else you might have realized how you and Edward look when you’re together to everyone around you

* And it might have been the first sign that things have started to veer of the future you imagine

* But of course you don’t, and you say:

* “Really? You want me to believe two teenage boys used such eloquent language?”

* He laughs

* “I might have picked some.. kinder diction.”

* You both laugh, another private joke that would be referenced for years

* “And where’s my graduation gift?” Alice asks, you hand over a brightly wrapped package, it’s a magic 8 ball and a Chanel scarf, Edward already read Alice’s mind and assured you she would love it.

* “That’s hilarious” she says with a laugh, she hasn’t even opened the package, already seen what’s inside with her gift.

* “Are you coming to our graduation party tonight?” When she notices your confused expression she gives a pointed look to Edward. “You didn’t invite them?”

* Edward rolls his eyes

* “I didn’t think it would be that fun,” he looks to you and explains. “It’s just a party Alice likes to throw to help us fit in better.”

* “It also to commemorate graduating and going to college, which is Infinitely more fun.” She grins, a hand on Edwards shoulder

* He turns his attention to you, his mouth quirked in a lopsided smile

* “Do you want to go?”

* The party scene in Eclipse sure looked fun

* “Sure, sounds like a fun time.”

* It’s decided you’ll drive up with Edward after they all split up, and go to the party with him.

* You’re telling Kate and Irina when they get a look on their face

* “Is that not okay?” You wonder if it’s about Tanya, and how maybe she doesn’t like you spending so much time with Edward.

* “No it’s fine it’s just... will you be alright with all those humans?”

* You had done fine on the stands, but a house party was different, you guess it’s probably easier to eat someone when there are so many dark corners and so many suspects to pick from

* You wrinkle your nose, honestly you don’t get what the big deal is, sure they smell kiiinda nice, but the scent is comparable to one of your deers.

* Also, who knows where these people have been and what they’ve been eating. The thought of eating an alcoholics blood makes you scowl.

* “I think I’ll be fine” Irina laughs, and rests a hand on your shoulder

* “We’ll tell the others, do you want me to bring you a drink later on?”

* You shake your head, you ate a little bit more since you were going to be around so many people today.

* “I should be fine, Edward will probably drive me home, but if not I can always run”

* You always forget you can run faster than a car now.

* “I doubt Edward will refuse the opportunity to spend more time with you.” Irina smirks and you roll your eyes

* You’re both just friends, stuck in family’s where everyone seems to be in a relationship (except for you that is)

* There’s only so much you can take watching Eleazer and Carmen’s pda

* “I’ll see ya later” you excuse yourself to find Edward, who seems to be talking to a group of boys

* “So what’s their deal, are they your cousin or something?”

* “Um... they’re a family friend”

* Looks like Edwards confused about your family structure too

* “They look older are they in college?” Another asks, Edward hesitates, well you are older but you’re not really in school

* “Are you hooking up with them?” Edward winces

* “No we’re not close like that.”

* You decide now is a good time to intervene in the conversation

* “Hey, are you ready to go?” Edward looks relieved to see you

* “I’ll see you guys tonight at Alice’s party” he offers a polite smile before leading you towards his car

* When you’re finally out of earshot, you say

* “You know, I always thought we were the closest of friends” You think he’ll grimace at your teasing but instead he grins.

* “Do you enjoy being the subject of several teenage boys imaginations?”

* “I mean, it’s not-not a little bit flattering.”

* On the drive back to his house Edward takes you through town and points out every mundane landmark like you’re on a safari tour

* “And that is the grocery store I never visit, and next to it is the diner I had to pretend to eat food at during my mandatory “senior breakfast””

* “So what you’re saying is, this is the worlds’ most boring town.”

* “I would say boring adjacent, the town we’ll move to next doesn’t even have a major grocery store”

* He’s definitely talking about Forks.

* You must have killed quite a bit of time with your impromptu tour because when you get to the party it’s in full swing

* You and Edward stand in a corner and play your favorite game

* “Blonde girl in the corner.” He says

* Edward picks someone, and you have to guess what they’re thinking. You’re never right but it’s still funny

* “Hmmmm I’m going to say she’s thinking... ‘This is what all the hype was about? Can’t believe I’m wasting my Saturday night HERE.’”

* He laughs and shakes his head

* “She’s actually thinking about how the object of her affections hasn’t noticed her once, and has been spending all his time with someone else instead.”

* You totally miss the meaningful look Edward gives you.

* You make a face, unrequited love was the worst

* “Well that sucks, I wish there was some way we could help.” Edward only shrugs

* “They’re human problems, for us even if the person we love doesn’t love us back, we just wait a a decade or so, and they usually change their mind.” He grabs your untouched red solo cup

* “I’ll go get us some more drinks.” For a second you wonder if maybe Vampires can drink alcohol, but then you immediately deflate.

* Oh right, the human act, you almost forgot.

* You’re standing by yourself when the “unrequited love” girl from before approaches you, another girl with hair the color of caramel in tow

* “Hey, I haven’t seen you around before, do you got to our school?”

* Any person could see this was a hostile encounter

* anyone except you that is

* “Nah, I’m taking a gap year right now.”

* “Oh?” Miss. Unrequited lights up at that. “Didn’t get into your first choice school?”

* “No my parents died.” You say it causally, but they both freeze at that. So much has happened, colleges and your parents are the last thing in your mind. You notice the reaction though “It’s been a while though, so everything’s fine now”

* You give your best smile and the girl in front of you seemed flustered

* “How do you know Edward?” Miss. Caramel asks, while her friend takes a long sip from her cup.

* “Well- I guess he’s a family friend, but really I met him through Carlisle.”

* “Through Carlisle?

* “Dr. Cullen,” you quickly supply, to them he’s just the local handsome doctor. Not exactly someone who they’re on a first name basis with. “Yeah, Carlisle talked about Edward a lot when I was in the hospital.”

* Before you can scar either of these girls further, Rosalie appears by your side

* “Hey! Glad to see you made it!” She gives you a side hug and turns her amber eyes to the girls in front of you. “Amber, Bethany glad to see you. What are you guys talking about?”

* Both of the girls fall speechless in front of her, probably from her beauty you guess.

* You still get the urge to shield your eyes when you look at Rosalie.

* “Edward.” Rosalie rolls her eyes

* “Of course, the most perfect man alive.” You snort at that.

* “Perfect my ass, I saw him snort drinking yesterday and he sprayed the whole counter top.” Rosalie raises a well groomed eyebrow

* “Really?” A smiles tugging on her lips

* “That’s not even the worst part, do you know he took 43 minutes to clean it up.”

* Rosalie laughs, and the other two look at you with awe.

* “Edward Cullen snorts?” The caramel Coloured hair one, Bethany asks.

* “To be fair I did say a pretty good joke”

* “What was the joke?” Amber asks, and you grin.

* “What did the vampire say to the girl?” They look at each other and shrug

* “What”

* “See you next month” The two girls don’t seem to think it’s good, but Rosalie is dying of laughter

* “He must have hated that!”

* “Oh I’m sure he did, that’s why I said it” Rosalie laughs even harder

* By the time Edward comes back, it’s basically just a two way conversation with you and Rosalie roasting the ever loving crap out of Edward, with two humans eagerly watching

* “One time while we were eating Edward just kept complaining about how “existence is agony and how none of us have a soul” like dude, we’re eating, could you just chill for a second please?” Rosalie says and you laugh

* “I have the perfect Edward impression” you clear your throat and set your face to the best “I’m constipated and existence is agony” face you can manage “I’m an outsider. No one can understand me. No one has thoughts like I do. Existence is agony”

* if Rosalie could die she would have died of laughter, she’s hunched over and every time you think she’ll stop laughing she starts another wave.

* “To be fair, I don’t think anyone has thoughts like mine” You turn to see Edward behind you, he’s actually got an amused smile as he hands you a red solo cup.

* “It’s Henrietta,” he whispers in your ear. “ I figured all the laughing might have made you thirsty”

* “For an outsider like yourself, that’s awfully kind of you.”

* The laughing did make you thirsty, it also explains what took him so long. You wonder if he ran all the way to your house to get you a drink.

* Rosalie doesn’t say anything just grins as she watches you two, Edward’s eyes flick from you to her, and you wonder what he’s experiencing right now

* You’re not going to lie, his narrative of mind reading was your favourite part of midnight sun

* “Do you want to dance?” Well that question came out of nowhere.

* “Sure”

* Queue you and Edward awkwardly waltzing on the makeshift dance floor

* “Who taught you how to waltz?” Edward asks as you step on his feet yet again, you’re glad he’s a vampire and can’t feel pain.

* “You. Right now. I’m learning from the school of life experience.” You grin and he rolls his eyes

* “Here,” he picks you up, and places your feet on top of his. “Better?” You nod and laugh

* “They’re kind of cute right?” Rosalie says to Amber and Bethany, a twinkle in her eyes. Amber sighs.

* “Yeah they are.”

* Rosalie feels kind of bad. She didn’t mean to rub it in her face, but she doesn’t like anyone being mean to you. She already kinda liked you from The game night , and after tonight she REALLY likes you. It’s nice to have someone else on the “roast Edward squad”

* “Oh look, it’s Bradley from the swim team, should we go over and say hi?” Bradly was definitely single, and Rosalie loves playing matchmaker “Sure”

* Edward drives you home at the chaste time of 11:30

* “Did you have a good time tonight?” He asks, walking you to the front door. Ever the gentleman.

* It’s not like a thing alive could hurt you anymore.

* “Yeah it was really fun!” He let’s out a sigh of relief and a nervous smile.

* “That’s good, you’ve been seeming kind of... off lately so I was worried”

* Ah, so he had noticed. You had been feeling off lately. Only four more years with him at most until he moved somewhere far away.

* “Yeah, I’m just a little jealous I guess.”

* “Jealous of what?” His eyebrows thread together. And you sigh.

* “You get to go to college and I can’t.”

* You really are jealous about that, While you’re stuck in the house, Edward will get to move forward and make all sorts of relationships and memories

* His mouth purses, and you feel bad. You shouldn’t have said anything, there’s nothing he can do about it after all.

* “Ah, don’t worry about it, I’m just glad to be here with people who care about me.” That only makes him frown more. But he offers you a small smile.

* “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says and then he does something really unexpected:

* He kisses your forehead, before retreating back to his car. You watch his car wind away down the circle driveway from the porch. A hand on your forehead where his lips touched and a flutter in your heart.

* Man, Edward was so unintentionally smooth, no wonder Tanya was still hung up over him

* Wait, was Tanya still hung up over him?

* Somehow you found her behavior not consistent with someone with unreciprocated feelings

* The days pass on by, Edward’s around more now because it’s summer break.

* Likewise trips to the Cullen residence are also more frequent because it’s summer break

* You oddly enough spend a lot of time with Rosalie, you mostly roast Edward but occasionally you reminisce about human stuff

* “What do you miss the most?” She asks and you think for a minute

* “Probably Italian food, maybe alcohol” She let’s out a moan

* “Oh my god, how good does mushroom ravioli in a creamy Marsala sauce sound?”

* “Good enough to kill for”

* By extension you also get close to Emmett, but in a totally different way

* “Alright hit me with everything you’ve got!”

* “Uh are you sure about this Emmett?”

* You’re both in a clearing about thirty feet apart

* “Yeah, just show me what you’re made of” He giving you a wicked grin, no doubt glad to have someone new to spar with.

* You shrug, he is asking for it

* He doesn’t even make it a foot forward before he crumples to the ground. You’ve been holding back so long, it almost feels good to not have to contain all your body’s grief

* You reel it back in when he taps out. You expect him to look at you like you’re a monster but he just grins

* “You’re really something else kid”

* You even get close to Esme who assists you in drawing up a schematic for a barn, and Jasper helps you build it.

* “I think the door should go here” he tells you

* “But then it would be facing the fence and that doesn’t seem right”

* He scratches his head and you stare at the architect sketch in your hands

* “It’s supposed to be right here” Alice tells you, already searching through the future for the correct placement.

* And of course you and Edward continue your piano cat and mouse game, where you each start a piece and wait for the other to catch up to your playing.

* Maybe it’s because things are going so well that you can’t help but wonder what went wrong with Tanya and Edward

* So one night, when you’re sitting together in the library, you ask her

* “Tanya why do you hate Edward” She sputters

* “I don’t hate him!” You raise a skeptical eyebrow and she sighs “it’s just- it’s embarrassing !”

* She tells you about how Carlisle had told her about his son, and how he was the last to be without a mate, and was very depressed

* “I thought of it like I was doing a service you know, we would date for some time and have a brighter perspective on this life.”

* You can already guess how this story ends, but you ask “So what happened?” She huffs

* “Well he flat out rejected me, told me I wasn’t his type, can you believe that? A forever 17 year old telling ME I’m not his type.”

* Yeah for a woman like Tanya who was every man’s ultimate fantasy that does seem pretty mortifying

* “Is it-“ you meet her eyes “is it okay that I’m friends with him then?”

* Her eyes soften and she beckons you into a hug

* “Of course it is little one,” she kisses the top of your head “and if it ever happens to grow into more than that that’s okay too.” You wrinkle your nose

* “I wouldn’t bet on that Tanya.” She rubs your shoulder

* “Well you never know, and if that happens, and for some reason he’s lost his mind at tells you you’re not his type don’t take it personally, there’s something seriously wrong with that boy.” You laugh

* The days pass by in a blur.

* Edward starts college studying veterinary science, and every day he comes back and teaches you what he learned

* “Sometimes I feel like I’m getting more out of this than you” he tells you as you do his homework

* “It be like that sometimes”

* You start experimenting with other animals blood, mostly chickens, ducks, and geese.

* You also have a moose now so that’s cool

* After many faithful years Henrietta passes away. You stayed in the barn with her all night, and planted a pine tree over grave.

* “All things die in the end huh?” You whisper as you stand over the first deer you befriended, and Eleazer rubs your shoulder

* “Not us” he whispers

* “Not us” you repeat

* You and Edward are lying next to each other in your bed, both of you pretending to sleep

* “What was it like when you turned?” Edward’s the one break the silence. He always is when you do your dreaming sessions

* “It was... nice” it really was, the venom was warm like a blanket, lulling you into a peaceful last sleep. This surprises him.

* “Are you some kind of masochist?”

* “Well what was it like for you?” You roll your eyes. He goes on a long descriptive tangent, but in short: it was absolute agony.

* “Well that’s weird, I wonder if Alec had some kind of special venom or something.” He flinched at the mention of Alec but doesn’t say anything else.

* The days pass on, just as they always have, but something starts to feel off. Both in your household and in the Cullen’s house. Some sort of tension

* You think about asking Edward or Eleazer about it, but decide against it.

* Maybe you’re just being paranoid

* One day you’re getting blood from the kitchen, when you notice the entire coven is sitting on the kitchen table

* Weird, but maybe they do this all the time and you just never noticed.

* “(Y/N) can you come here for a moment?”

* Well crap

* They all ramble over each other for a few minutes, and you only catch bits and pieces of what they’re saying

* “Everyone here loves you-“

* “It won’t be forever-“

* “Carlisle might even get you a blood bag or two-“

* “Enough!” Tanya roars and immediately the others fall silent, she looks at you with warm eyes and a kind smile

* “(Y/N), the Cullen’s are leaving,” ah, so it’s already time for them to go, Tanya explains how the Cullen’s move around more often than your coven does, on account of Carlisle’s job. Well you knew this was coming. It was nice while it lasted

* “-And that’s why we think you should go with them”

* Wait what.

* “You want me to leave?”

* “No of course not!” Irina shouts, wide eyed, she’s sitting the closest to you. “It’s just-“

* “We see the way you look at Edward,” Eleazer says. Oh not this again, how many times do you have to say it. YOU BOTH ARE JUST FRIENDS.

* “Like you want what he has.” He finishes

* Oh

* “We’re too late in the cycle to send you to school, Irina and Kate have already gone, and it will be another ten years before we decide to move.” Carmen says, her teeth digging into the flesh of her lip. “A lot of things could happen in ten years,”

* The Volturi could want you back on ten years

* “so we think you should go with the Cullen’s and get an education and have a normal life-“

* “Normal-adjacent,” Kate interjects, because life was never going to be completely normal for you ever again. Carmen grins,

* “Normal-adjacent life, you’ll get to have friends, and you could study whatever you want, you don’t have to learn secondhand from Edward.”

* “And you can come back whenever you want!” Kate reassures. “If you decide you don’t like it, and that it’s not what you want, you can always come back, we’ll be right here.”

* They all stumble over each other to reassure you that it’s your choice, and if you decide to stay that’s fine too. But there’s only one question on your mind

* “Do the Cullen’s already know about this?” The table falls silent.

* “Yes, they do.” Tanya says

* “And what do they think about the arrangement?” All eyes trail to Eleazer, so he was the go between for your Covens

* “I think they’re all pretty excited, Carlisle wanted you from the start.”

* Carmen sucks her teeth and lightly slaps him on the arm. “What it’s true, you know Esme’s been cross with him ever since she met them, she wants you too.”

* They’re all looking to you waiting for an answer. You’re not sure what the right thing to do is.

* You’re not stupid, you know things have changed from the original story line, you know the Volturi isn’t going to want Bella as much now that they have you.

* But still... you do want an education, a chance to do everything the way you always imagined

* You also kind of want to see Edward and Bella’s love story play out. Especially now that he’s your friend

* Also you think you should really deter him from watching her sleep, that crap was creepy as hell

* You sigh, there’s really only one choice

* “I’ll go with the Cullens’.”

#twilight #twilight imagines #twilight reader insert #twilight headcanon #twilight imagine #twilight saga #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen #Rosalie cullen #Emmett Cullen #Alice cullen #the cullens #midnight sun #alec volturi #Volturi imagines #superhero—imagines

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me A very short summary of the fic: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes. Word count: 2.1k A/N: Here is the 2nd chapter! If anyone wants to be added to my taglist just send me an ask or a message 😊

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

“I’m going to bed. I can’t work on the more difficult tailoring for either of us until I’ve had at least a few hours of sleep.” Everyone else had gone to bed about an hour ago, leaving her and Nikolai alone for the first time since they’d met. While he had been a lot more pleasant in the last hour all she could think of now was her bed.

She slowly got up and left the room. Her head felt like it was going to implode. She was already dreaming of crawling in bed under her soft blanket, letting her feet navigate the familiar hallways and stairs.

“Y/N! Wait.” Nikolai had followed her down the hallway and caught up to her before she had a chance to reach her room. So much for my well-deserved rest.

She whirled on her heels “What do you want, Sturmhond?” Her tone had been harsher than she’d meant but she was exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to spend one more moment in the privateer’s company.

“Please, call me Nikolai.” His easy-going flirty tone was gone. He sounded genuine now, almost pleading. “Listen, I know I haven’t made it easy on you. I need you to know that this job is important to me too. I am taking it seriously despite my natural devilishly charming demeanor. My country depends on our success.”

She took a moment to consider this new version of the man standing in front of her. He had almost slipped back behind his mask, but she could tell he was sincere. She understood the urge to hide all too well. “I’m sorry Sturm – Nikolai.” She amended. “I’ll try to sleep for a couple of hours. I should be better company when I wake up.” She genuinely smiled at him for the first time since they’d started working on Dirtyhand’s crazy scheme. “I’ll do all I can to make this job a success. If only so that Kaz won’t kill me.” She laughed softly “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he replied with a quick bow. He left her standing in front of her door and walked back towards the slat’s main floor.

She would have to consider the different personas Nikolai had shown her, at some point, if she hoped to understand him. However, that was a problem for another day. All thoughts of the privateer left her mind when she slipped into sweet unconsciousness. — She woke to loud knocking on her door. She groaned. She was going to kill them. Whoever the idiot was. It felt like she’d only just gotten to bed.

She opened the door with enough force to almost rip it off its hinges. “What the fuck do you – ?” She was standing face to face with Zoya Nazyalensky. Oh, she thought, guess I just shut my chances straight to hell.

Zoya smirked at her. “Good morning to you too. Everyone’s waiting for you downstairs.” She turned to walk away but shot a glance over her shoulder before disappearing down the stairs, her eyes trailing Y/N from head to toe and back up appreciatively. Raising an eyebrow, she added: “You might want to get changed before joining us.”

Y/N had forgotten she was only wearing her short lacy, somewhat see-through, nightgown and felt her cheeks heat up. “Yeah, sure, tell Kaz I’ll be there in a minute.” She stammered. She leaned back against the door as soon as it closed. Oh, well maybe not straight to hell? She quickly got dressed and tailored her cheeks back to normal before making her way to the others. The last thing she needed was to be teased by her friends for being so flustered over Zoya fucking Nazyalenski. She took a deep breath before entering the room.

“How long did I sleep for? Feels like I just went to bed.” She grumbled walking through the door.

Nikolai looked at her apologetically “Judging from when I last saw you, I’d say you probably slept for two hours?”

“Alright” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I guess that’s all I could really hope for.” She let herself fall on the couch next to Nikolai. Kaz raised an eyebrow at her. Interesting, he thought. There had been an empty armchair, but she’d chosen to sit next to the privateer. Maybe there is hope for the job yet. Torturing her is just a nice bonus.

She turned in her seat to face Nikolai. “I’m going to get started on the more advanced tailoring. It might get a bit uncomfortable. Changing bone structure always is. Let me know if you need a break.”

He’d only nodded at her in reply. She raised her hands to his face cupping his cheek with her left hand and running the fingers of her right hand down the line of his crooked nose. “Zoya, I’ll need you to tell me if the changes I’m making get too close to his actual features. Everyone else can piss off.” The crows took her dismissal seriously and scurried off to make other preparations.

Y/N settled into her work making corrections when needed following Zoya’s comments. She leaned back to admire her work after about three hours. She’d straightened Nikolai’s nose, made it slightly larger, raised his cheekbones and brow, and rounded his strong jaw to make him appear a bit younger. “Alright, I think this should work? The only major thing left is changing your eye colour. I’ll touch everything up once more after that.” Zoya had approached to examine Y/N’s work, staying quiet. “It’d probably be easier to make them hazel instead of green.”

“No,” interjected Zoya. “His eyes are usually hazel. You should make them blue. Nice work. I don’t think I’d recognize him in the street.”

Y/N beamed at Zoya. “Blue it is! That’ll take a while. Do you need a break, Nikolai?”

“I’m alright. Do you need a break? You’ve barely slept, and you still need to tailor yourself.” Well, she thought, that’s new. When did he become so considerate? He had let her work mostly in silence since she’d started that morning. He might not be so insufferable after all. Still a bit too full of himself to her taste but not insufferable.

“I’ll take a break after I’m done with you. I’ll need you to be very still for this.” She took a good look at him. “Zoya, can you make sure no one comes to bother me while I’m finishing up?” she called.

“Sure thing. I’ll get coffee. I have a feeling we could all use some.” As soon as Zoya left the room Nikolai’s shoulders bunched.

“I’m going to start now. You need to let me know if anything’s wrong alright?” Her voice was soft. She almost sounded worried.

He flashed her a bright smile. “I have full confidence in your talents, my dear.” He straightened his back once more. “Let’s do this.” She could tell he was tired and was only putting on a show. She wished he’d stopped hiding behind the self-assured ruler persona he’d mostly shown so far but she didn’t want to push him. She said nothing, opting to get back to work instead.

By the time Zoya got back with coffee Y/N was done tailoring Nikolai. Zoya let out a low whistle. She’d almost dropped the cups she was holding.

“He looks nothing like himself!” She exclaimed. “Once this job’s done you need to come with us to Os Alta. Genya would never forgive me if she didn’t get to meet you.”

Y/N smiled at Zoya and handed Nikolai a mirror. Genya Safin was the most talented tailor in recorded history, a member of the Grisha Triumvirate. Y/N couldn’t believe she’d ever take interest in a barrel rat like her. “Zoya’s right. You’ll have to come with us, or I fear our dear Genya will attempt regicide again.”

“She wouldn’t attempt it, moi tsar. Genya doesn’t fail. She would succeed in getting rid of you.” Zoya sounded amused at the idea.

He shrugged. “She’d probably murder you, my prized general, as well.”

The crows filed in after Zoya to take in Y/N’s work. Sturmhond’s strawberry blond curls were gone, replaced by chestnut brown ones with just a touch of red when exposed to direct sunlight. His green eyes were now a deep blue, slightly bigger than they had been. His shoulders were narrower, his skin tone lighter and his facial structure completely altered. He truly looked nothing like the privateer, or king, he truly was.

“Well done, Y/N.” Kaz’s raspy voice sounded from the back of the room. “Go rest and tailor yourself. Meet us back here in three hours. We’ll go over your covers again once that’s done.” The girl nodded and made her way back to her room on the second floor. — Nikolai couldn’t help but be impressed by the work Y/N had done on him. He was used to Genya’s skills, yet he never thought he’d meet another tailor as talented. He was pretty sure Y/N had even been faster than Genya ever was. She must have had years of practice to be able to perform such advanced tailoring this efficiently.

“How does it feel, Lantsov?” Nikolai jumped. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Kaz standing in front of him.

“How long has she been working for you, Brekker? I’m pretty sure you have one of the most talented tailors of all time on your crew. How did you manage it? Where did you even find her?” Nikolai just couldn’t wrap his head around Brekker’s luck. How does he always manage to have the best of every field on his crew?

Kaz chuckled. “While I appreciate your new-found interest in my tailor. I’m gonna need you to focus on the task at hand until we’ve pulled off this heist.”

Nikolai had been about to reply when Y/N’s voice cut him off. “I am not yours, Kaz Brekker.” She was standing in the doorway.

Nikolai was suddenly very glad he’d been sitting. The grisha had done just as good a job on herself as she had on him. Her usually dark auburn hair was now a vibrant shade of red. Her beautiful green eyes had been replaced by a darker brown. She hadn’t needed to change her complexion, but it looked like she had changed most of her bone structure. Her face was rounder, her lips narrower, her cheeks fuller. She’d even tailored her body, reducing her natural curves to make her seem slightly taller. Nikolai would have never recognized her. Her voice, still captivating, was the only thing that hadn’t changed. He found himself looking for any trace of the girl he had spent hours observing, and even grown to appreciate, in the last few days. Even though this tailored Y/N was beautiful, he had to admit he already missed her true features.

Jesper slung his arm around her shoulders. “You surpassed yourself, love.” He guided her towards the couch. “I have no doubt the job will be a success if everything goes as smoothly as your tailoring.” He only released her to push her down by Nikolai’s side.

Jesper’s attempt to calm things had been evident to everyone, nevertheless, it had seemed to work. Y/N leaned into Nikolai’s side and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. “Do we look like Kaelish newlyweds yet?”

They spent the next few hours going over every single detail of their new identities. Covering everything that could come up in conversation at the party. Y/N had comfortably settled on the couch never straining too far from Nikolai, playing the role of the perfect little wife. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, and Nikolai was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the proceedings. All he wanted to do was wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to his own body.

Eoin and Ainsley were 24 and 22 years old. They had met two years before getting married. They had had an unusually long engagement, lasting a full year, because Ainsley’s father had gotten sick, and she’d had to take care of her sisters. They had only been married for a few months but were looking into expanding the business to support Ainsley’s family. They wanted to get settled a bit before thinking of building their own family. That’s why Ainsley was working with her husband rather than stay behind at the mansion. How the engagement came to be had already been covered multiple times. Kaz made them rehearse telling the story over and over again.

Only once Kaz was satisfied did they get to take a break and sit down for a quick dinner, which had consisted of sausages, fried potatoes, and bread rolls.

“We’ll go over everything again tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure your clothes are ready by 3 bells. You’ll need to be at Van Verent’s house by 6 bells. Go get some sleep. All of you.” No one dared contradict Kaz, as they were all half-asleep on their feet by the time they were done. —- Tagged: @power-of-words23

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booksforevermore13 · 3 years

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Perhaps, it's the colours that started the story

Summary: The colour she sees first is the colour of his eyes. Of the boy she singles out in the crowd, just barely eleven, she can tell, yet she doesn't know why she chose him, why when she sees him, she sees the colours.

They were supposed to see the colours together. Instead, she was the one who saw first.

Read it on Fanfiction or AO3 if you prefer!

...

The colour she sees first is the colour of his eyes. Of the boy she singles out in the crowd, just barely eleven, she can tell, yet she doesn't know why she chose him, why when she sees him, she sees the colours.

His eyes are… they're this colour. This colour she's only heard of from her mother. But she doesn't know what it is, but it isn't black, it isn't white. It isn't grey like the trees. Or perhaps, they are and she doesn't know, because it's the first time she's seeing them. The colours.

But it starts with him.

"Mum," she breathes out, and her eyes are burning, she can hear her heart beating painfully fast, and nothing else. She's trying awfully hard not to cry, but it seems so impossible at the moment.

The boy doesn't see her, but she knows it's him.

"Yes, Ginny dear," she hears her mother say, but she knows her mum's not really listening to her.

"I can see them, Mum. I can see the colours."

Ginny doesn't think her mother hears her, but like a firework in the sky, her world suddenly explodes. She blinks once, twice, and when she opens her eyes the third time, she gasps, for she can see them.

She can see the colours.

His name is Harry, like the Harry she's heard stories of, and she's looking at him, taking all of him in, for he's here. He's finally here.

He wants to know how to get to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

She can't bring herself to say.

Ginny doesn't know why she chose him, if it was his eyes, or because he was handsome - but because, for the first time in her life, Ginny finds herself silenced in his presence. The Ginny Weasley, the girl who had to be told to shut up a thousand times every day, had finally done so. And all because of him.

She wonders if he'd started seeing the colours too. Or maybe he just hadn't seen her yet.

She thinks it's a good time to step forward now. To make her seen.

"That red wall, dear? You need to walk right through it," her mother says. "Right in the middle."

"Um… I'm sorry ma'am," he gulps. "R-red? What wall?"

Ginny's heart sinks at that, but she still keeps on repeating to herself.

He just hadn't seen her yet.

Her mum frowns, and then as if realising something crucial to the story, like she had, she smiles. "You can't see the colours as well, can you, dearie? Our Ginny here too` can't see them."

I can see them now, Mum. I can see the colours.

Her mother pulls her in front, and Harry looks at her, grins, but there's no spark. No glint, no surprise, like she thought she'd see. She'd hoped she'd see. He doesn't see them.

He doesn't see the colours.

"Hello," he says, but she can't bring herself to say it back. She's too busy holding back tears.

His eyes don't seem so magical at the moment.

Why couldn't he see the colours too?

What did she do wrong?

"Can't you," she whispers, "can't you see them?"

"See what?"

"The colours."

He smiles ruefully, shrugs, as if it didn't matter to him. Ginny wants to scream at him, tell him it mattered to her, tell him she was seeing them, for the first time in her life, why wasn't he?

"Maybe I'm not meant to."

Her heart sinks, and she struggles not to cry, slowly slinking behind her mother's back.

After they all go home, her mum and her dad, and only her, she lies on her bed, late at night, and cries her eyes out.

…

The colours were simply hues of grey to lift her from her monochrome existence. Each one was like a subtle sea over the other, noticeable, but submissive to the stone underneath. She'd shown just a glimpse, just a fraction of her inner spirit, and he'd flocked to her like a lost child.

Except he wasn't the one lost. She was. He'd used that. He'd used her.

Once, he'd told her she was stupid. Stupid to be running after someone she couldn't reach.

Ginny agreed with him. She thought he was right.

"When are you going to stop clawing for something that's never going to happen?"

At least Tom had been right about something.

If she thinks about it, he'd been right about everything.

"When are you going to accept that you were the only one meant to?"

Sometimes, she doesn't know if it's his voice in her head or hers. If it's him speaking or her. She'd lost that ability months ago when she'd let him speak for her. When she'd let him be her.

She was never going to let anyone do that to her. Ever again.

And if that meant she'd have to let Harry go, then so be it. If she had to believe that that day, she'd been the only one with colours, then that would have to do.

"Soulmates don't exist, you silly girl."

She'd been stupid to believe they did.

…

Ginny moves on.

It takes time, but it's not just overnight you wake up and finally feel like yourself.

But fifth year, when she makes the Quidditch team, she feels this might be it.

Ginny knows she should have made it her second year. Not three years later. But second year, when her days had gone by with her mostly avoiding the looks of disgust she got in the corridors and the pity she didn't ask for from her professors, her brothers constantly looking over her every second of every day, tryouts had been a mere lingering thought in her mind. And if that hadn't been enough, the team hadn't been holding any that year.

In a way, her second year had been far worse than her first. In a way, it hadn't.

Ginny moves on though.

She moves on.

She can still see the colours. They haven't left yet. She doesn't think they ever will. It's the same with Harry. He's there, but he isn't. Not in the way she'd like him to be, but she figures, maybe it's just her screwed over. Maybe while putting two people together, they did her up wrong. She doesn't mind. Or maybe, she does.

Right now, she feels, the right word is indifferent.

That's why, when she kisses Dean, she does so, because she wants to. They're not soulmates, they could never be, but in all true sense, he's a good kisser, and she likes him.

And in all true sense, when he tells her he loves her, she's guilty because she knows she'll never really say it back. Even though he deserves to hear it. But she won't. She can't.

"Hey." Ginny turns around, grinning at Harry while he jogs over to her. "Sickle for your thoughts?" he says as he comes to a stop, and she tosses him his gloves, while she slipped on hers. All his years playing Quidditch had done him good, clearly, and once when, she had been the one taller than him, had turned into him standing well over a foot above her.

"Oh, you're going to need much more than a sickle," she teases, walking beside him to the castle grounds. She's early for practice, she nearly always is, and she suspects it's partly because she knows he'll be early too.

"I'm sure."

Ginny glances at him through the corner of her eye, wondering if he could see the colours now. It's been years since she'd asked him. She didn't want to now. Now, she never did.

"Lucky for you, I'm in the mood for some chit-chat," she continues, and he shoots her a mirthful glance, and Ginny wiggles her eyebrows.

"Lucky for me."

"Oh, you bet it is." She shoves him, and he laughs, his voice deeper than what it was before. It's more attractive too, she can't help but notice.

"I've a date with Dean today," she announces, beckoning him to set into a run. She easily keeps pace as they jog around the field, her, slightly tense as to his reply.

But he's silent. Ginny frowns. Her dates are usually a good conversation-starter for her brother, and Harry isn't much different from him. She'd expected him to at least balk, like the numerous times Ron had done.

"That usually requires a reply, you know?"

"Do you want to go?" Harry asks, surprising her, and she looks at him, appearing to be amused when she really wasn't.

If she had been in the mood to be truthful, she'd have said no. Ginny didn't want to go. Not with Dean Thomas.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

They're silent then. They're silent after. Ginny can't help the tugging feeling in her gut, that's pushing her to ask that one question, that single piece of information that she's been dying to know since… forever. But she won't, because it's been years since she'd chased something she couldn't reach and she wasn't going to do it again.

But in the end, she wins. Tom loses.

"Can you see them?" she asks finally. "The colours?"

It's like a flash, like a jolt. His expression changes, and he grins at her, his ridiculously handsome boyish grin, and she's almost dreading the answer because she knows what it's going to be. Because she knows this is where she finally learns she's not the one.

"I do," he says, and his grin widens. "I can see all of them."

She nods, smiling at him, when really, she feels crushed, defeated.

She chose him. Evidently, they didn't share the same equation.

"I do want to," she says finally, "go on that date with Dean."

Ginny turns away after, blinks back tears.

...

Ginny wasn't a Seeker.

She was a damn Chaser.

She didn't catch the Snitch.

She caught the Quaffle.

So, the fact that she currently had a bright, golden Quaffle, clasped in her fingers while she lay squat in the middle of the field was something that she should be positively yelling about.

And yet, she sits still, Snitch clasped in her fingers, for really, yelling is the last thing she wants to do now. All she can really do is look at it.

And all she can think is that if this was what it felt, catching the Snitch, holding it taught against her palm, its wings fluttering against her skin, then she finally understood why Harry did it. The thrill he felt. The thrill she feels now. She's felt it before when she beat out Cho for it, but this, this feels different. This feels more real somehow.

And then she hears yelling, and she's laughing, yelling along, as Peakes and Coote lifts her up in the air, as she raises her hand, showing her team the golden snitch.

This, this is where she belongs. Where she's meant to be.

Ginny jumps down, letting Peakes and Coote pull her into a hug, pulling Ron into one herself, and through all of it, every single smile, and every single laugh, part of her is just dying to see Harry. Part of her just wants to tell him that she caught the bloody Snitch.

So, when she sees him, at the bottom of the stairs of the boy's dormitory, she laughs, and sets into a run, and as she launches herself at him, he pulls her close by her waist, and kisses her. In front of fifty watching Gryffindors, he kisses her, his lips like a dream against hers, as she wraps her arms around him.

And after several long moments, when they do finally break apart, she's laughing, startled, of course, but she's laughing. She's happy.

Harry grins down at her, his green eyes like the tinted glass jars her mother kept at home (as if he was already part of her home), and gestures wordlessly at the door.

She's smiling, but when she nods, she allows him to guide her away.

…

"I see the colours," he tells her as the Common Room door closes behind them.

She smiles, walking along beside him, letting the walls guide them to the grounds.

"When did you see them?"

"I don't know. One day, I just did."

She smiles harder, not knowing if she could ever quite stop. Harry's looking at her, as if he's waiting for her to say something, but she doesn't. So he goes on.

"I think… i-it was while I was at the Burrow," he says, "or, I don't know, but I saw you, and then I saw your eyes. I saw brown, this warm chocolate brown and then it sort of, just —"

" - exploded," she said for him.

"Yeah."

He asks her now, for it's his turn. "When did you see them?"

Ginny smiles ruefully, glancing away at that. She isn't so sure if she should reveal it, for revealing that would mean sharing something that had haunted her for as long as she could remember. It was the first time she had felt unwanted, like an extra piece in a puzzle.

For her, finding her soulmate had always meant that one thing in one's life that would make them feel as if they'd found their other someone. It was what her mother had told her when she was young, it was what her mum had felt when she'd met Dad.

But at that time, hers had been anything but.

"I… uh, same," she stammers. "It happened out of nowhere."

"No, it didn't," Harry shoots her a mirthful glance. And then, like clockwork, his smile turns into a frown. "It… wasn't at the train station that day, was it?" he asks. "The day we first met?"

Ginny offers him a weak smile, and she supposes it's answer enough, as he breathes in sharply, eyes holding horror, surprise, she couldn't say.

"All this time?"

She shrugs, looking away. "It wasn't up to me," she says, her eyes prickling with tears. "I saw you," she laughs it off, for it's what she's always done, "and then my whole world turned upside down."

"You never said anything."

"How could I? I saw the colours, but you never did."

Harry stops her, grabs hold of her hand, and holds it tight, his hand warm against her cold ones, and she laughs, because kissing him might have felt like a dream, but being with him, here, with her hand locked in his, was hers.

"I'd have tried," he says, "I'd have done anything," and his eyes hold fire she's rarely seen, but that fire, it doesn't burn. It never has.

"We were eleven, Harry," she smiles, slipping her fingers through his. "I didn't even know what love was when I met you. I still don't."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I still am."

Ginny laughs, and she bends forward, kissing him like he'd kissed her before, and it's a kiss where she feels stirring in her chest, warm and curious, like she had felt back in the common room. It's a kiss that makes her want another.

"I like the way your hand fits in mine," he whispers against her lips, and she smiles, before he kisses her again.

…

A year and a half later, when she kisses him again, it's among dust and grey. It's among pain and anguish. It's when they're trying hard not to cry, it's when they're trying their best to stay together.

"Are you hurt?" he says urgently, between kisses. "Gin, are you hurt?"

"No, Harry, it's okay, I'm fine."

He breathes out in relief, his lips getting tenser as they stay against hers, until Ginny has to pull away, make him look into her eyes.

"It's over, okay?" she says, holding his face gently, her thumb running over the bruises along his jaw. "It's over."

He looks at her then, and his face crumbles, and Ginny has to breathe in, in sharp gasps as his tears break loose, but hers don't. They slide down against the broken remnants of a wall, and she's hiding her face in his shoulder, as he cries into her lap.

"I'm sorry," he says, over and over again, and Ginny feels her heart breaking, everytime he says so. "This isn't what I wanted," he sobs, "I never wanted them to die."

"This isn't your fault," she whispers, but at this point, she can barely say anything without her voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry," he says again, and Ginny wipes away her tears furiously against his shirt, pulling him up by her hands.

"Hey," she says, "hey, hey." Ginny lifts his face, wiping away his tears as hers break loose. "You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me, Harry? This is not your fault."

Her voice cracks, and his face falls, and this time, it's him that pulls her in for a hug, as she rests her face against his chest, lets his shirt soak in her tears, while she feels his own against her head.

A year and a half later, when she kisses him again, among the dust and the grey, she knows it just might be for forever.

...

The life she has, it's the life she chose.

The boy she singled out in the crowd, just eleven years old - she picked him out, not because he was famous, but because he had, in the short span of an infinitely long ten seconds, taught her the art of shutting up. That he had, in the course of her life, made her feel like fireworks and danger.

Ginny marries him, builds a family with him, even though she knows it's a risk, but Harry's well worth the risk.

So, one night, a couple of years later, as Harry sits beside her on the couch, her head resting against her shoulder, while he half-pretends to read something about work, when really, he's doing that weird thing and looking at her, Ginny looks up at him and can't help but ask: why did you suddenly fall in love with me?

And it is a moment of quiet, a moment where really his answer is all she's waiting for, among the crackling fire in front of them, the sweet smell of bacon lingering in their kitchen, the steady beat of his heart against his chest, and them, as Harry drops a kiss into her hair.

"It's because when I saw you, I saw the colours. I saw all of them."

...

#harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #hinny fanfiction #harry/ginny #fanfiction #romance #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #soulmate au #you can't see colour until you meet your soulmate #hinny prompt #molly weasley #harry and ginny's first meeting at the train station #tom riddle #trauma #it is largely overlooked how much trauma ginny weasley went through as a eleven yer old #love

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Wanda//for it is only temporary

Request: Can I request A Wanda Maximoff x Reader, where reader's part of sword and they get stuck in Westview somehow, maybe they get powers similar to monica, and go to wanda for help

hey! i hope you like this!! this is my first wanda request so i’m sorry if it sucks, but here you go anyway! and thank you @statticscribbles for helping me with this! i’d be lost without you.

“Hold on, what?” Jimmy says and you stop to look up at him. You’re met with concerned eyes from everyone in the room, including Hayward and your own eyes widen a little in surprise.

You cough and look away, busying yourself with the suit that you’re hoping is intact and ready for a trip through the hex. You can feel them staring at you, and it makes your skin crawl, despite the majority of them being your friends as well as colleagues.

They’re waiting for an explanation so they can tell you how bad of an idea it is. And you know it is, you don’t need them to tell you. You’ve spent enough time sat beside the invisible wall trying to find a way in and maybe whatever has caused Monica to rewrite her DNA has seeped into you, but even if it has, at least you haven’t been through it, you’re less likely to...well, to die. And you’ll take those odds, it’s better than the almost guaranteed death of Monica.

“Think about it, Monica can’t exactly go back in, I mean it’s changed her DNA...no offence.” You send her a sympathetic look and she crosses her arms, a small scowl pulling at her lips. “But I haven’t been in, and I know Wanda, well I know her more than all of these people with guns that are gonna be pointed at her as soon as they find her. I can talk to her, like Monica said, she clearly needs help and well, I know what she’s going through, if anyone can help her and those people that are stuck in there, it’s me.”

“Y/-” Darcy starts but you cut her off, the tension in the air is already too heavy, it sits on your chest, making it harder and harder to breath and it’s not helped by all of the concerned looks you’re getting.

“Plus, what era are we in now? The 80s? I’ve always wondered what I’d look like with a perm.” You try to ease the tension with a joke, but the best you get is a forced smile from Jimmy that just makes you feel worse. “I’ll be fine. I have hundreds of people monitoring everything that goes on in there, and I have you.” You look at Darcy and her expression softens. “I know that as soon as you notice one thing wrong, you’ll be the one leading the army in, but please, trust me.” You squeeze her shoulder and she sighs, slumping back in her seat. “Just let me try.”

“Please, don’t kill me!” You panic and throw your arms in the air. Wanda’s hand lowers a few centimetres, but her eyes still glow red and you remind yourself not to breathe too hard, you know, just in case. “I need your help.” You add and her arm drops to her side. She looks behind her, at the sage coloured house that keeps the three people she holds dearest to her. She knows exactly what each of them are doing. Tommy and Billy are using their dad as a climbing frame, and she should be in the kitchen, making them dinner and smiling as she listens to their laughter.

But then she see’s the panic in your eyes. You look scared and she knows she doesn’t know you, but somewhere deep down she feels like she does. Maybe in another life you were friends, maybe if things were different, you would be friends.

“Listen, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.” You slowly walk closer to her and she stands straighter. “But there is a bunch of people outside of this place with guns and bombs and god knows what, just waiting to come in here and destroy it. But I’m not one of them, and neither is Monica or Darcy or Jimmy. In fact, Darcy and Jimmy have been enjoying this maybe a little too much, but that’s not the point. We want to help you, but we can’t do that if you keep kicking us out, because the people with the guns will come in and they will tear this place down, no matter what.” You explain and you watch her expression change. It goes from confusion, to anger and finally settles on sadness as tears pool in her eyes.

“So why are you here?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks you up and down.

“Because I wanted to talk to you.” You say and she raises her hands, twisting and turning them together and your eyes widen in panic. You quickly stand straighter and wave your hands around. “But, not anymore.” You add quickly. “Listen, before I came in here, I couldn’t do this.” You say and your eyes change from their normal colour to an icy blue.

“Oh.” Wanda says confused and you nod slowly.

“Yeah. I also wasn’t bulletproof and I could barely fight my way out of a sleeping bag that one time I went camping, but I can now have people on the floor in seconds without breaking a sweat. I don’t know what to do. On the way here, an older woman asked how I was and I threw her into a house across the street.” You frown and watch her think for a few seconds. “So, please help. Because, well I can’t seem to control these and I actually quite like not assaulting random people.”

“What do you think I can do?” She blinks and glances back at her house again.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “But you created this place, and you seem to be pretty good at controlling your powers...most of the time.” You mumble the last part and she glares at you. “But well, I figured who better to talk to when you suddenly find yourself become a superher-Oh, holy shit! Am I gonna be an avenger-right sorry, not the time.” You shake your head and she stares at you blankly for a few seconds. “I’m Y/n by the way.” You add quickly and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine.” She nods. “I’ll help, but any mention of destroying this place and I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to use your newly found powers anymore.” She threatens making you gulp.

With a flick of her wrist, your suit is transformed into a pair of blue jeans and a very loud t-shirt. Bright eye shadow irritates your eyes and when you try to move your hair from your eyes, your met with tight curls and your face lights up.

“Did you just give me a perm?” You ask and she looks at your hair before nodding.

“I thought you’d like it.” She shrugs. “Don’t get used to this. You’re only here until you learn to control your powers and then I’m kicking you out and nobody is going to bother my family again.” She says lowly and you gulp.

You’re about to reply when footsteps come running down the path towards you. You look up and see Tommy and Billy running towards you with bright smiles on their faces. Vision follows shortly after and you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds, it’s like you’re looking at a ghost. He smiles at you and you return it before focusing your attention on the boys, it’s too much to see Vision alive and well right now.

“Boys, this is Y/n, she’s just moved in across the street.” She introduces you to the twins and they grin and wave at you.

“Hey,”

There’s an awkward silence for a few seconds before Wanda jumps in and paints a bright smile on her face.

“Why don’t we welcome her to the neighbourhood and go bake some cookies for her!” She says and the boys cheer before running back into the house.

Vision waves at you, but it feels off, it’s like he’s trying to figure out if he’s seen you around. And he has, just not here.

“Dad!” Tommy shouts and Vision pulls his gaze away from you. He blinks and follows his sons back into the house.

It’s just you and Wanda now, and as soon as Vision walks through the front door, her smile falls.

“Remember what I said.” She says and you nod quickly.

“Yep, only temporary.” You reply and she gives you an approving look, before walking away. You look around, hoping that Darcy and Jimmy are watching and send them an unsure thumbs up.

The credits roll, over a freeze frame of your face, and Darcy and Jimmy stare at each other.

“Shit.” Darcy mumbles.

support my writing! if you want!

#wandavision #wandavision imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda imagine #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader

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