#I’m good at like picking out and identifying different notes in perfumes

[loveforskekgra]

I really wish I was one of those people who knew how to make like perfume oils and stuff because I spend a lot of time thinking about what a collection of perfumes themed after each Skeksis and Urru would smell like

[theoreticslut]

Wildflowers and Peach // g.w.

george weasley x reader

requested: for @lunalovecroft ‘s writing trope challenge!

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none, fluff

A/N: another writing challenge fic out of my drafts! This is another one that’s taken far too long to get out and I apologize. I really like taking part in writing challenges, but sometimes it really does take me forever to write. Anyways, this is probably one of my favourites at the moment. I really hope you all like it too! Xx

Taglist: @freddie1978 @jackys-stuff-blog @rosietoesy  @melonoptimist @anxiousblanketqueen @rosietoesy @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @perfectlysane24 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter @streetfighterrichie @softlyqoos @isthereanymorejello @karushinekomiya @p0gue420 @hogwartslut @sebby-staan @darthwheezely @slytherin-7 @callmelilone @teenagesublimefan @hufflrpuffforfred @hopefullhearts @fredshmeasley @youralternantpersonality @stoopidwithtwohoes @sightiff @captaincactusjuice @concepcion @hufflepuffflowers @impulse-anchor @ioverslane99 @fleurho @eternallyvenus @lemongrasshoney @watermelonsugar2810 @hpotterwhore @harrypotterwifey @onyourgoddamnleft @littlemisswitt @princessofmice @harleigh110 @accioalix @teenwolfbitches2 @sammy-the-gay @kaitlynw011 @midsummernightdream @stxrryxsky @fredweasleypls @pandaxnienke @georgeweasleyishot @Leovaldez37 @psychocracker @tovvaa @weasley8800 @wand3ringr0s3 @pinkypurplemagic @pineapplesandpinas @lindsaytriestowrite @amourtentiaa @georgeswhore @slytherinambitious @lovesanimals  @freddie-weaslebee @the-real-santana-lopez @accio-remus-lupin @zabinizucchini @tinylumpiaa @celestialmage23 @hogwortslut123 @georgeweasleysbabe @stilinskibiles

Walking into the potions classroom you’re surprised to find that it smells...good. Considering some of the ingredients required for certain potions, the fact that the classroom is down in the dungeons, and that Snape apparently doesn’t know that a window can open, the room normally doesn’t smell all that great.

“Is it me, or does it smells good in here?” Angelina asks as she sits down next to you.

“No, it smells good in here. For once.”

“Oh good. I was wondering why I’d smell cinnamon and....gun smoke in potions.”

You gape at her. How could she smell cinnamon when it very clearly - and strongly - smells like vanilla.

“What? No! It smells like vanilla and rain. A-and freshly dried clothes.”

You hesitate for a moment, realizing that it smells oddly familiar. You just can’t quite place it. It smells comforting...like home, but it’s definitely not what your house smells like.

“Nuh-Uh. I think your nose is broken.” She quips, turning towards the front of the classroom.

“On the contrary, ms Johnson. I highly doubt ms y/l/n’s nose is broken. I’m sure that everyone in this room is each smelling something different.”

She looks up at him confused and slightly embarrassed to have been spoken to. Snape is famous for calling out students and somehow making them feel dumb.

“Mr. Weasley, what do you smell?”

You watch as both Fred and George look up, not sure which one is supposed to speak. You can hear Snape sigh in annoyance at the boys who very rarely pay attention.

“Well?”

“Uh, I-I smell...a mix of flowers and...shampoo? W-with a hint of peach.”

You smile at George as he finishes speaking, his attention naturally falling to you as a small blush tints his cheeks.  

“D-did he just describe your scent?” Angie asks, surprised as she leans closer to you, glancing back at George before making eye contact with you.

“What? No.” You chuckle, albeit a little awkwardly as you turn your attention to your empty parchment in front of you.

“Y/n, mixed flowers and peach? That definitely sounds like your lotion and perfume. It’s all I can smell after you get ready in the morning.”

“He can’t be smelling me though. Not in this big of a room.”

You watch as she cocks an eyebrow, not ready to say that he isn’t smelling you.

“As you see,” Snape starts, gaining everyone’s attention again, “everyone smells something different. Does anyone know why?”

“Is it amortentia, sir?” some ravenclaw on the other side of the room asks.

“It is. Amortentia...anyone know what this potion is?”

You glance around, noticing that no one knows, or if they do, they don’t care to speak up.

“Amortentia is a love potion - not to be used around the castle as it’s incredibly powerful and dangerous.”

“Love potion?” You whisper, Angie frowning in confusion as well.

“It happens to create a strong infatuation, leaning on the edge of obsession, in the drinker for the one who administers it. It does not, however, create real love.” Snape continues although there’s a few defeated sighs around the room.

“I hope you’re all keeping notes on this,” he deadpans, looking over the small sea of students.

You quickly scribble down a few notes, trying to make sure you don’t miss anything as he continues talking.

“The potion itself can be identified by its pearlescent sheen and swirling steam.”

“Professor Snape? None of that explains why it smells different to all of us.” You question, thoroughly confused as to what the difference in smell is for.

“Well, ms y/l/n, the reason it smells differently to each person is because it resembles the scent of whatever you find most attractive. In other words, it smells like what, or rather whom, you’re attracted to.”

You frown lightly in confusion as Angie bumps your arm, silently squealing as she puts together the pieces - George smelled you because he likes you.

“What, Angie?” You sigh, smiling in mock annoyance as you look over at your friend.

“George likes you!”

“What? No! You’re jumping to conclusions, Ang.”

“Oh right, sure. ‘Jumping to conclusions.’ Y/n, he smells you in the amortentia!”

You sigh, shaking your head at her until your brain connects the dots. The reason the amortentia smelled so familiar to you is because it smelled of your best friend, George Weasley. And if it’s supposed to smell like what you’re attracted to then - oh...Oh no.

~.~

After what felt like a lifetime, potions finally ends and you’re more than ready to leave. As heavenly as amortentia smells, you don’t want to smell it, or hear of it, again anytime soon.

What a way to realize you’re in love with your best friend. Well, in all fairness, you kind of knew long before now. You had just buried the feelings so far down that you had practically forgot about them.

Sure, they popped up a few times a day, and usually at the worst times, but you had still buried them. You can’t be in love with your best friend. Not because you didn’t want to be, Merlin knows you’d be happy to just admire and fawn over George all day, but rather because it would only complicate your friendship.

You didn’t want to risk sharing your admirations only to have him not feel the same, leaving your relationship awkward and on the brink of fading apart. But now you know that he likes you too...

Sure, that’s great, but what if he decides he doesn’t want to have a relationship?

Sighing frustratedly, you hug your books to your chest and make your way back to the common room.

“Y/n!” You can hear Fred call from behind you, George surely right behind him.

You frown, mentally cursing Merlin himself for this chain of events. Maybe you could just pretend you didn’t hear him?

“Y/n!”

Well there goes that option.

Sighing you turn around, a yelp leaving your lips as you’re pummeled to the floor by the two redheads.

“Bloody hell, you two.” You groan, trying to catch your breath.

“Sorry ‘bout that, y/n. Here.”

You graciously accept Fred’s hand as he helps you up, George focusing on picking up the few books and papers they managed to knock out of your arms.

“Thanks, George.” You smile as he hands you your things.

“No problem. So potions was interesting today, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda interesting that one potion can smell so different to everyone.”

“Definitely. Speaking of which, I never caught yours.”

You smile, blushing lightly as your heart rate picks up. You can’t help but feel happy as the scent invades your senses at the mention of it.

“It’s, uhm, kinda hard to explain. It’s comforting, I just don’t know how to explain it.” You lie, not really wanting to tell him that you smelled him, especially with Fred right there.

“Comforting, huh?” Fred asks, smirking at his brother as George rolls his eyes.

“Hey, Fred. Why don’t you go see if Lee’s in for the prank tonight.” George suggests, hinting at his twin that he wants him to leave.

“Yeah, alright.” He smirks, winking at his twin before heading off towards the common room.

You both watch as he disappears around the corner, neither of you knowing what to say.

“So...comforting?” George finally asks, trying to make some sort of conversation.

In all honesty, he’s just really curious as to what, or who, you smelled. You have to know that he smells you, and he’s just wondering, more like hoping, that you smelled him too.

“Yeah. What about you? Flowers, shampoo, and peach?” You smile, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

Angelina’s words come back to your mind and you have to remind yourself that it’s probably not you. It couldn’t be you.

Sure you used a floral scented lotion and a peach perfume everyday, but there’s got to be someone else that does too. George can’t like you like you like him.

He smiles, nodding and chuckling as the two of you walk together.

“Yeah. Any idea who that might be?” He asks, draping his arm over your shoulders as you walk.

“Hmm, no one comes to mind, but it sure sounds like they smell amazing.” You smile, not even wanting to risk telling him what Angelina said in case it wasn’t you.

“They do.” He smiles, watching you as you keep your eyes ahead of you two.

“So you can’t even give me a hint as to what ‘comforting’ smells like?”

“George, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to figure out who I like.” You tease, trying to change the topic of conversation.

You may have briefly talked about other people together, about how this guy was attractive or how this girl was cute, but for the most part you kept your love lives out of conversation. The only time the both of you really talked about it in front of each other is when you and your guys’ friends got together and played silly party games.

“Would it be a bad thing if I was?”

“I mean, you never talk about guys like Angie or katie or alicia do. I’m curious. You’ve got to have your eye on someone, right?” He offers, catching how shocked you looked at his prior question.

“Of course I’ve got my eye on someone, George. I just, I can’t imagine telling him. There’s a lot I could mess up.”

“Like what?”

You sigh, knowing that he won’t give up until he gets an answer he’s content with. George, if nothing else, is persistent. He doesn’t give up easily, especially if it’s something he’s truly curious about.

What’s the harm in telling him your worries? It’s not like he knows it’s him that you’re talking about. For all he knows it could be any other guy in the school.

“We’re friends. This guy and I, and I like being friends with him. I-I don’t want to tell him and not have him feel the same. I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

George stops as he takes in your statement. It sounds like it could be him, but for all he knows it could be any of your other guy friends.

I mean he knows you’re friends with Fred and Lee. Oliver a little bit. He’s seen you talking friendly with Cedric. But honestly, he has no idea just how many guys you’re friends with. It could be anyone.

“That’s really vague, darling. You’re going to have to be a bit more specific for me to guess.” He jokes, that being the only way he feels comfortable having this conversation with you.

“Maybe I don’t want you guessing, George. Ever thought of that?”

“What do you two look so tense over?” Angie asks as you both enter the common room.

You sigh, seeing her and Fred sat on the couch.

“Nothing.”

“Y/n wont even give me a clue as to what she smelled in her amortentia.” George sighs, plopping down onto the couch as you roll your eyes.

“Seriously? You must really like the guy then if you don’t want any of us to know.” Fred smirks, leaning back as you sit near George.

“I mean, I know who she’s been crushing on...” Angie speaks up and you glare at her.

“Don’t you dare, Ang. I can spill your little crush too.”

“No, no, no! Tell us, Angie. Please.” Fred and George beg.

You shoot daggers at her, afraid of your secret being spilt. She wouldn’t dare, would she?

“No, I can’t. Girl code, you know.”

You sigh in relief as the two boys groan in frustration.

“Come on!” Fred groans.

“Neither of you need to know who I like. It’s not important.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“I wouldn’t say it’s unimportant...Pretty sure he likes you back, y/n.”

“What?! Who?! Please tell us!” Fred and George ask nearly at the same time.

“Angie, I’ve already explained this to you.” You sigh.

“Yeah, and I think you’re being dumb. Just tell him.” She says, making eye contact with you as you do the same with her.

You loved her, but she was just as annoying as the twins at times.

“Just tell us what you smelled. We don’t need to know who it is.” George pleads, drawing your attention from Angie.

“Yeah. Please, y/n! I’ll share mine!” Fred suggests.

“Yeah, good idea! Let’s all share ours so it’s not just you. Sound good, y/n?”

You sigh but give in, already regretting it when the boys cheer.

“Alright, well you already know,” Angie starts, looking at you.

“But you two don’t. So here’s mine; cinnamon and gun smoke.” She says, talking to the guys.

“Really?” Fred asks, smirking a bit.

“Alright, well I smelled fresh air and the quidditch locker room.” He offers.

You quirk an eyebrow as that’s quite a combination, but you imagine that’s how Angie smells to him.

“You all heard mine in class.” George says, wanting to hear yours already.

“Tell us again?” Angie asks.

“If you insist,” he sighs dramatically. “I smelled flowers, shampoo, and peach.” He states with a blush, not able to look at you.

You notice Angie smirking at you, sending you a wink, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. She’s overthinking it.

“What kind of shampoo, George?” Fred asks, teasing.

“I, uh, I don’t know. It just smells like shampoo. It’s clean...a-and feminine.”

“Feminine?” Fred snorts. “That’s the best way you could think to describe it.”

“Shut up.” George huffs, crossing his arms and pouting.

“Your turn, y/n. We’ve all shared ours.” Angie states, almost challenging you to spill.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Alright, I smelled vanilla, rain, a-and freshly dried clothes.” You sigh, immediately looking down at your hands in anxiousness.

“Rain?” George asks.

“Freshly dried clothes?” Fred questions, not sure where to even start with that.

You nod, not risking a look at either twin, too afraid of them figuring it out.

“Okay, explain. I can understand the vanilla and the fresh dried clothes, but rain?” Angie asks, giving you a questioning look.

You blush, the memory of you and George getting caught out in the rain together a few summers ago coming back to you.

You had been visiting the burrow for a few days and George wanted to show you around the countryside, sneaking both of you away from his family to walk the flower fields when an unexpected shower came in and drenched the both of you before you could find shelter under some trees.

As you both started laughing and trying to shake off the rain, George had pulled you into his side to keep you warm which is when you caught scent of him and the rain surrounding the both of you.

“Oh uhm, just a memory I have with him that, you know, took place when it was raining.”

“Two summers ago? When we got caught in that unexpected shower?” George questions quietly, just loud enough to capture all of your guys attention.

“What?”

“The memory you have? Was it when you and I got caught in that rain shower a few summers ago?” He asks, a bit more confident now as you stutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“Oh yeah! You came back and were telling me all about how amazing that was! You said that her perfume and the wildflowers were...how did you word it...’intoxicating’ that day.” Fred clarifies, smiling at his brother.

“Oi! Does that mean you smelled George in your amortentia?!”

“I-Uh”

You stutter, searching for the words - any words - as your mind is spinning with the new development.

“Y/n? Did you smell me? D-do you like me?” George asks, heart racing just as fast as yours is.

“I-Uh, yeah.” You blush, mentally face-palming at how awkward you sounded.

You can feel your stomach flip with nerves as your heart rate only continues to increase, leaving you too preoccupied with trying not to hyperventilate that you miss the way george lights up with your confession.

“Yeah? Really?!”

“Yes, George. I-I’ve liked you for awhile.” You mumble, your cheeks burning with a blush.

Before you can even realize it, he’s leaned in and lifted your chin, connecting your lips with his in a kiss. You vaguely make out some cheers and clapping in the background, but you can’t figure out where or who they’re from.

You sigh, eyes closing in reaction before you register that you’re actually kissing George. Your best friend and crush of many years.

“George!” You gasp, pulling away in shock.

“Shush.” He mumbles, pulling you into another kiss. This one a little less rushed and frantic.

When you do finally separate from each other, all you can do is try to catch your breath before even attempting to open your eyes.

Its not until fred and Angie start cheering you two on that you realize you’re in the presence of people.

“Oh, uh...”

“Calm down, y/n. I’m happy for you. It’s taken far too long.” Angie chuckles when she notices your panicked face.

You nod, still too shocked, and now confused, to think of anything to say. George just kissed you. The guy you’ve had a crush on for years, your best friend, just kissed you.

“Y/n?”

You turn your attention to the redhead beside you who looks awfully concerned at the moment. All he can worry about is if he made you uncomfortable. He didn’t mean to do so, he just couldn’t think of anything else to do besides kiss you.

“You okay?” He asks, searching your face as you nod, still seeming in a daze of sorts.

“You...kissed me.”

“Yeah?”

“You kissed me....and then you kissed me again.”

“I did. Y/n, are you okay? I-I didn’t cross any lines did I?”

“Georgie, you crossed lines alright.” Fred laughs, earning an elbow in the side from Angelina although she’s chuckling alongside him.

“Y/n. Speak up. What’re you thinking?” Angie asks.

“George kissed me, Ang. H-he kissed me. Oh my god!” You gasp, startling George as Angie watches you curiously.

“You like me? Please say you like me and that wasn’t just some joke. George?”

“It wasn’t a joke. I promise. I like you a lot, y/n.” George smiles, a light blush taking place on his cheeks as your brain finally starts catching up.

“You do?”

“I do. I really like you. I thought that was obvious by what I smelled in the amortentia.” He chuckled, watching you with a smile on his face.

“I-I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I mean, I hoped it was me, but you know...I-it could have been someone else.”

“You’re the only person I know that smells like peaches and wildflowers, y/n. And like I said earlier, it smells amazing.”

“I-I’m glad.” You chuckle, a small smile finding a home on your lips.

“So you smelled me in the amortentia, huh? How’d you describe it...comforting?” He teases, not able to resist making you blush more.

“Shush.” You groan, rolling your eyes although a smile and blush sit on your face. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you couldn’t stop asking.”

“Well I’m glad I smell comforting to you, darling.” He chuckles.

“Awee, you two are so cute!” Fred teases, not being able to help but make fun of his brother and best friend.

“It’s seriously about bloody time though. I’ve only listened to you talk about her since second year.” He states.

“Shut up, Fred.” George mumbles, hating his brother at the moment.

“Hey, you’ve had it a year less than I have. I’ve been listening to her talk about George since middle of first!”

“Angie!” you gasp, not believing she’d spill how long you’ve liked him.

“First year, huh?” George asks, smirking at you.

“Oh, shush. You’ve liked me since second.”

“Fair enough. Would you maybe want to leave them be for a bit? I’m positive if we hang around much longer they’re only going to keep teasing us.”

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

He chuckles, smiling as he gets up and offers you his hand, the both of you trying to sneak away as Fred and Angie talk.

“Hey, hey, hey! Where are you two going? Don’t disappear on us.” Fred calls out.

“Yeah. Don’t be getting all secretive and private on us now. We’re still your best friends!” Angie adds.

“Guys? Guys?! Where are you going? What are you going to do?!” Fred asks, increasingly getting more worried as the two of you chuckle amongst yourselves and ignore the two of them.

“Guys?! Don’t snog on my bed!”

“Or mine!! I see you heading towards the girls’ dorms. Y/n!”

You can’t help but laugh as they both call after you in a panic, stumbling to get on their feet to chase the two of you which prompts George to start racing up the stairs, pulling you along behind him.

“Come on, y/n!” George chuckles, a bright smile on his face.

“Guys?!”

“Seriously! No snogging on my bed please! Or shagging! Guys?” Angie begs as she and Fred pound on the door, as you had just gotten to close the door on them.

You and George can’t help but laugh at your friends. It’s only fair to get them back for all the teasing.

“Godric, I love you so much.” George smiles, watching in admiration as you laugh at your friends’ worry.

“I love you too, Georgie.” You smile as he pulls you into a soft kiss, smiling into the kiss himself.

Sighing, you still can’t quite believe the reality of the situation. After being so worried about losing him as a friend, it turns out he’s liked you just the same. How lucky could you possibly be?

[suspiciouslybluemilktea]

Pairing: Suit Saeran x Non Gendered Reader

Description: A little fic based on that gorgeous Suit birthday title screen CG we got this year. Go on, put on that dazzling outfit. There is one problem here with Suit’s plan though…you don’t know ballet to perform for him. Guess you’ll just have to dance together </3

Little note for readers who don’t identify as female: On stage, EVERYONE wears makeup (lipstick, eyebrows, all of it) in order to emphasize features for the audience to see. And costumes are also very important, including ones with glitter! Suity here doesn’t discriminate, everything here is following performing arts rules. Feel free to think of the costume in any way you like as it isn’t referred to as a dress! It’s anything! Local theater kid here isn’t a lier promise.

I wrote this pretty much exactly after the CG was revealed :3 so it’s older

————————————————————

“Perfect...what a well behaved doll~”

Saeran crossed his arms in front of him, showing you his signature smirk in a smug look of victory. He studied you, traveling down from your face to the outfit you so graciously modeled for him, admiring the way it hugged your waist and fell with such a poof at the bottom, black feathers adorning the soft silky material. He coughed upon noting the exposed bit of skin the outfit left in your chest area, and he made it painfully obvious that where his glance landed up was the cause of the tiny loss of composure.

You couldn’t help but feel rather flustered under his gaze, relief washing over you as his eyes finally met yours again.

“So...it took it being a special day for you to finally listen to me? Well? Did you enjoy the show at least, toy? Wasn’t it cute? The little dolly made of my little doll finally doing what you’re supposed to do. Entertaining me! That is your purpose! And today…,” he huffed through his nose with laughter. “You’re finally going to do that properly! That wasn’t just any old puppet show...but a demonstration of how today is going to go. You’re going to dance for me as I sit back and enjoy my cake in front of you...and if the performance is good enough, you can have a bite. Aren’t I generous today?”

He snickered as you tried your hardest not to sigh tiredly, not necessarily completely annoyed by him but…needless to say this wasn't something you’d have planned. There was a short pause as he tapped his foot a few times impatiently. Clearly you weren’t getting his message.

“So then, toy? Dance for me! And dance for this sugary treat~”, he cackled, sliding the small plate in your direction before pulling it back, taunting you much like a toddler. Perhaps waving a reward in front of your face would light a fire under you.

It was moments like these where you found yourself wondering what good you initially thought you’d get from blindly following a complete stranger to a hidden location in the mountains. Truth be told, today you were mainly humoring his whims because of the sheer amount of detail and effort he put into this charade, and because you were curious to try on that exquisite costume. Birthday boy or not...this couldn’t become a regular thing of his.

“Oh..oh oh oh and one more thing.”

Saeran rather excitedly crouched down for the blue present box underneath the table, easily popping its lid off and pulling out the final piece of your outfit; the same feathers and golden crown worn by your doll.

“Aren’t you excited? You get to be royalty for the day...my prince(ss)..my birthday present to play with! Why else did you think I’d instruct you to wear your hair like that before I came?”

Sending someone in to do your hair for you that evening and pamper you was the proper explanation for what actually went on. It wasn’t like it would be an easy feat to add such a lovely jeweled hair piece to your do alone. The timid believer who assisted you even brought you a perfume sent by him...so you, according to the note attached, “wouldn’t smell so awful”. On the bright side, you really did feel dazzling, the pearls in your hair matching the ones on your new attire.

“Well...come closer so I can put it on you. I won’t bite...as long as you listen,” he teased, bringing himself forward to close up more of the gap between you two.

You bowed your head slightly in response as he fiddled with how the headpiece sat, occasionally feeling his hands smooth down and readjust little parts of your hair. Once he was confident the job was done, he took a step back to admire his work of art. He seemed proud of his accomplishments; his ability to get you to play dress up for him and how the puppet show went so perfectly after so much practice...and now was the time for his hard work to pay off. He expected you to make every bit his birthday fantasy come true, which was evident in everything from his expressions to body language. But there was a problem. You didn’t know ballet.

Saeran took his birthday hat and placed it upon his head grumpily before plopping in the seat you once previously enjoyed his performance in. He sat with a slouch, bringing his plate of cake to him, noming down on a small bite before speaking again with his mouth a bit full.

“Come on, toy! I’m waiting now that you’re all ready!”

He tapped his foot impatiently again.

You decided to address your concerns slowly.

“Uhm...Saeran..? The dance you made the puppet do was ballet…”

“Yes, aren’t you clever? So do some ballet for me.”

“That’s the thing...I haven’t done ballet since I was practically a baby. I’m not sure how to...and you’d have to turn on the music-”

Rational thinking interrupted your nervous attempt to reason a proper way to do this. “And hey...why am I dancing for you anyways?”

He tilted his head, raising a brow in disapproval.

“Because I say so, and because you value your life and your stomach. Remember? I can toss you out at any time,” he puffed, “and this cake will save you from your misery of having an empty belly. You will work for your food and convince me you deserve it!”

“...Ok..? But again...I don’t know how to do ballet anymore-”

Saeran cut you off with the sharp screeching of his chair’s legs dragging backwards against the ground, standing swiftly.

“Did I ask for excuses..? Hahaha...most people would be more pleasant on their birthdays..”, he stepped towards you. “...Is that what you’re expecting from me? Hmm? To be all sweet and sappy because it’s my big day? Extra nice to you? I still won’t tolerate disobedience...in fact, I have less patience today!”

He finished his march to you until he could make certain his dominance was well established through a face-to-face threatening scowl, towering over you best he could. He cupped your chin, tilting it up so you were forced to meet him in all his fury.

“You’re going to dance today. You’re going to dance today because I ordered you to do so, little airhead. Even if I have to force you!”

Releasing his hold on your face, he then grasped your left hand, intertwining your fingers, giving you a good yank forward into him. He caught you on his chest as you gasped in slight shock, the feeling of his hand making its way to the side of your waist; the unexpected cold touch making you shiver as you felt it through the fabric of your outfit.

There was an awkward pause as the two of you stood together in silence for a moment, Saeran just watching you with bated breath. The quiet was eating at you, feeling your heart clamoring against your ribs as you waited for him to initiate something. Your stare drifted down to his chain which sat within your outfit’s front feathers before moving back up. It was cute that he’d pick out a gold one for his birthday. You piped up as you heard him finally swallow saliva.

“We uh...need music..if you want to dance together. I think this is a good solution, actually.”

You gave him a smile, the same gentle look he’d cursed dozens of times before for making him feel so gross in the stomach. He kept quiet this time, but your expression made him feel no different than usual, if not more so.

“I knew that. Obviously we can’t dance to nothing. Tch, don’t get smart with me…”

Sure he knew that.

He let go of your hand to reach out and press play on the little radio he’d tucked away behind the little stage, contorting himself to stay close to you before returning to your old ready to dance position. He pulled you to the right with a shuffle together away from the set to a clear space in the room, closer to the window, the glow of the soft moonlight catching on the intricate glittery details of your costume.

Saeran stared for a mere moment, stiff as a statue as you placed your free hand on his shoulder. You could tell from the shifting of his eyes he was trying his best not to gawk now that he was getting a solid look at you up against him, clearing his throat with an “akhem” to collect himself. He’d never admit the tips of his ears felt hot to the touch.

Finally, with your prompting, the inviting melody which drifted through the room allowed the two of you to begin swaying together; Saeran watching your feet to understand the 1-2-3 step movements you did. He got the hang of it pretty quickly, grinning confidently as he took more lead and a firmer hold on your waist. It was a simple dance, rocking a tad and moving in a circle, the expression you showed him sweet and caring as he peered into your reflective (e/c) pools, (and perhaps it was flustered and nervous too). He, on the other hand, wouldn’t allow his mask of cocky satisfaction to be taken off so easily, despite the rosy hue his pale cheeks took on.

“My my...such a warbled little smile I’m receiving from you~ are you enjoying this, doll? Don’t lie, I can see just how red you are..pfft- is dancing with your prince something you’ve day dreamed about before? You and your delusions-”

You decided to outright call him out. He can’t just tease you like this when he came up with this whole plan in the first place, now can he?

“Says the one who made a detailed puppet set of the building we’re in. And two dolls of us. And got me a costume. And got me ballet shoes, which my whole outfit matches the doll’s exactly, by the way. And you even put on a whole show, plus made me do my hair the way you like...who’s day dream are we actually living out? Oh and don’t forget...you’re the one who took my hand to dance too~”.

You winked at him, eliciting a low growl which rumbled in his throat. His face grew redder, perhaps with rage.

“Hey...I never said I didn’t like it. The detail is incredible, and I’m being honest. I’m not sure how much work you put into it all...but I can tell it was a lot. You, sir, have a hidden talent. I’d like to see what else you can do with more free time for yourself….”

He sneered, “I’m not going to keep humoring you with more stuff like this, if that’s what you’re implying. Maybe with more free time, I’ll only find myself coming up with new ways to make you bend and break! But, I will take your compliment as you can at least appreciate this all as a work of my geniusness. I’m a busy busy man, but I found free time to set up a playdate with my toy. So stop pushing my buttons! You should feel lucky I graced you with my presence! It’s my birthday...and I’m stuck looking at your stupid face!”

“Hmm...again, with all that planning I think someone wanted to see ‘my stupid face’. And I do feel lucky, because I get to spend your birthday with you, although I wish I could have organized something myself. And what I meant was...Saeran this is a work of art. The dolls look hand crafted and painted, including the outfits which must’ve been sown for today in order to match perfectly. I also noticed the pearls on my costume match the ones on your birthday hat. And the set...some of the paint even appears as if its liquid leaf...which it might not be but still. Once we’re finished dancing, I want to go and admire your efforts. Especially the cute little replica of yourself you made~!”

Saeran sputtered angrily.

“You….are certainly an A grade weirdo. Don’t you hate this, even a little? Isn’t it sucky for you? Having to be my puppet today!”

“I’m no one’s puppet. I’m enjoying myself because I get to dress up, dance with you, and learn about a new skill of yours.”

He stopped your swaying with a halt, and you could feel his once icy hand in yours growing hotter by the second. His grip tightened as if to warn you he might hurt you with a squeeze, but within a second, it softened, and he let go momentarily to run it through his poofy locks. He grumbled.

“I don’t know why I even bother with an airhead like yourself. You didn’t even use the stamps I left so clearly out in front of you.”

You grinned at the opportunity suddenly presented to you. You hadn’t given him a birthday gift yet, and here was the chance to give him something small, but memorable.

“Hey Saeran...do you like the shade of lipstick I’m wearing today? It’s kind of purpleish..you know, a combination of red and blue. Like your stamps if the ink is mixed.”

He gulped, furrowing his brows.

“What are you getting at? I don’t care about your silly stage makeup I instructed the believer to do...”

You faked a sigh, “Sorry, sorry. I’ll make sure to get on that last bit right now about the stamps, since we’re no longer dancing.”

Without hesitation, you took him by the open sides of his striking suit jacket, pulling him to you to turn and plant a quick but firm kiss on his cheek. You then let him go, drinking in his wide eyed blushy appearance, raising his hand to touch the prominent lipstick mark you left on him. He wiped the area as if to show he didn’t like it, only to look down at the swipe of purple on his fingertips.

“See there? A stamp! And there’s more where that came from~”

[champhangman]

No Other

Title: No Other Characters: Nick Jackson x OFC Part: One of ? Summary:  I don't know the loneliness you've known. I don't hear the frosty words echo inside. Word Count: 4,750 Warnings: n/a A/N: An extremely loud ‘thank you’ to @adampage and @cowboyshit for listening to me complain about the lack of Nick fics, and helping me create something that’s cohesive from the ideas that I blathered endlessly about late at night. Y’all are my biggest supporters, I hope you realize that. (Side note: when I mentioned I was doing a Nick fic, Emi went ballistic, because we all know she lurves him.)

Tagging:  @adampage / @cowboyshit / @baysexuality / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy /  @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @allizoneme / @heelsamizayn / @what-does-mine-say / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger  / and @merchfreak because I know Alma loves some Nick

One

 "Why do we plan stuff for so early in the morning?" Matt rubbed his face with one hand and groaned. "I'm going to get coffee, you want anything?"

"Yeah, the usual," Nick answered. The lobby was filled with people. Groups of women all wearing the same bright shade of pink. Men in suits. Teenagers in blazers, looking bored as they shuffled along behind two stressed-looking adults. "What time is the interview for the social media thing?"

"Thirty minutes." His brother rolled his shoulders and yawned. "You gonna sit in?"

It wasn't his turn. He almost pointed it out, to remind Matt that they, Cody, and Kenny took turns sitting in on interviews for staff in the company. Sometimes it would be two or three of them. Occasionally they all slipped in to meet a potential new employee. They didn't have to do it. But they did, because they wanted to make sure new employees would fit in and expand the familial bond they felt with everyone. But Matt already knew all that. Sighing, Nick shrugged. "Sure."

"Cool. I'll be back. We're doing it in the ballroom on the second floor. Dylan's meeting me there."

"Ballroom?" Nick chuckled. "Are we that damn fancy now?"

"God, I hope not," Matt muttered. "Just how it worked out today. A bunch of conventions going on, y'know? I'll meet you there."

He watched his brother head across the lobby then headed for the stairs. Halfway up, he stopped and backed up against the wall as a stampede of women in pink rushed past him going the opposite way. Nodding and smiling in greeting, he breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone, the wave of perfume staying behind while their excited chatter and giggling echoed.

As it began to fade, he grew aware of piano music. He moved away from the stairs and saw a grand piano at the far end of the carpeted, ornately embellished area. A woman sat before it, head bowed as she played. A small placard identified the space as the grand foyer, and he was acutely aware of his less-than grand attire as he strolled between mirrored pillars beneath gleaming chandeliers. He saw the entrance to the ballroom and leaned inside, but there was no sign of Dylan or the interviewee.

He turned to watch the woman at the piano. Try as he might, he couldn't place the sentimental tune. Melodious, it rose and fell in tempo. She didn't bang the keys to evoke the strength of the tune. She stroked them tenderly, fingers moving fluidly to coax beautiful sounds from the instrument.

Nick rested his shoulder on the nearby pillar, watching her. He admired the almost loverlike movements of her fingers along the keys. Her eyes were closed, he saw, and he wondered if she thought of someone while she wrought the bittersweet melody. A former lover, he supposed, judging it too melancholy to be a joyful love song. Dark hair fell from behind her ear, shielding her profile from his view.

The tempo slowed. Elegant fingers barely touched the keys to bring forth soft notes. They danced, ending with a chord that seemed to echo in his heart. Then they began again. Deep, low sounds that resounded around him, fading into soft, higher notes, ending on a gentle chord.

"That was beautiful," he said into the sudden silence after making sure she had finished.

She whirled, dark hair catching the light as it fanned around her head. "Oh," she gasped, pushing to her feet with a nervous smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was listening."

"Don't apologize. It was amazing." Nick pushed away from the pillar and crossed

"I'm sure they don't want me touching the piano. But I couldn't resist." Her fingers grazed the polished surface reverently. "It's a Fazioli."

She said the name almost worshipfully. Nick saw her love for the topic clearly in her eyes. "I'm not familiar with piano brands, is a Fazioli better than others?"

"It has a clearer tone. Sometimes a Steinway can be a bit muddy, especially with a complex piece. Of course, I learned on a Steinway, so they'll always have a special place in my heart, muddy tones or not." She gave a happy, reminiscent sigh. "And naturally it's all down to the individual which brand they prefer, but I like the Fazioli myself."

"Do you have one?"

"God no." She laughed, a sound as musical and rich as her piano playing. "It wouldn't fit in my apartment, and one costs about as much as Lamborghini. Which is a little out of my budget."

"You live in the area?"

"Yeah. Up until the first of the year I was based in Tampa." Her green eyes clouded slightly, but the shadow was gone in a blink. "I needed a change. Which is why I'm here today…"

"Looking for a piano gig?" he asked with a grin.

"God no," she breathed. "I couldn't play in front of people."

"I'm people," Nick pointed out.

"That's different. I didn't know you were listening. And you're just one person. Okay, there were a few people going up the stairs but they weren't sitting or standing watching me. I can play in front of a few friends or my family, but not in front of people. You know?"

"I know," he said with a nod. "What was the song you were playing?"

"It was—" Her lips twisted into a grimace. "I don't know."

"Original?" he asked, impressed.

"No! I'm not able to compose," she laughed. "I… This is going to sound incredibly conceited but I can pick up a song after listening to it once. Sometimes it takes two or three times if it's an intricate song. But, um, I heard this one on Spotify on my way over, and I wanted to see if I could play it."

Nick was still impressed. He'd only met a couple of people who had that ability, and it took them at least three listens before they could play a song without difficulty. "That's amazing. Why aren't you in music?"

"I tried, but the stage fright said no." She smiled up at him. "I'm sorry for blathering on about pianos and music—"

"No, no, it's fine," he assured. "It's obviously important to you."

"Are you in music?"

"Ah, no. I'm in wrestling."

"No way." She laughed again, cheeks tinging a delicate shade of pink. "Oh god, no way."

"Yes way," he promised, confusion setting in when she laughed harder. "What?"

"Oh my god. You're one of the Jacksons, aren't you?" She stopped laughing. "I thought you looked familiar. If I can be perfectly honest, I've never really watched wrestling but after I put in my application, I realized I should know the product I'm trying to be a part of…"

The dots connected and Nick began to chuckle. "You're here for the interview?"

"Yes… Oh my god." She gave a tiny, embarrassed, laugh. "And I just spent fifteen minutes rambling about pianos. I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson."

"Nick," he corrected.

"Nick." She smiled. "You won't hold any of that against me during the interview, will you?"

"Of course not. We try to encourage passions, Miss…" He didn't know her name. He didn't even know how many interviews there were going to be. He just hoped her skills leveled with her personality. She would be a good fit, he thought.

"Jasmine Burke," she supplied. She extended her hand.

He took it in his for a shake. Felt her elegant fingers press against his palm. "Great to meet you, Miss Burke."

"Jasmine. Or Jazz. Jazzy." She squeezed his hand and her smile softened. "I answer to almost anything."

He felt as though something had slid into place. "Jasmine."

***

Jasmine liked him. There weren't many people she'd met who didn't mind when she gushed about music or pianos. Even her own mother, who had turned her passion for music into a career, sometimes rolled her eyes when Jasmine dissected a song over dinner. Not only had he let her ramble on, he'd listened. And had understood. Had asked questions that made her blathering last longer. No one did that. They either pretended to listen while waiting for a chance to change the subject or they just cut in and talked about something they thought more important.

But this man hadn't. He hadn't said a thing about himself until she'd asked.

She wasn't used to that.

It was probably inappropriate to think of his eyes as beautiful. He was her potential new boss. But they were beautiful. A wonderful shade of bright, deep blue, they sparkled with the sunlight coming through the windows. Potential new boss or not, the man's eyes were mesmerizing.

He released her hand and she lowered it. "Will you be doing the interview?"

"No, not officially. That's Dylan, our head of social media. But me and Matt will be sitting in."

Oh, wonderful. She felt her palms start to sweat with anxiety and, as inconspicuously as possible, brushed them against her slacks. She had the troubling notion that she would get distracted if Nick were there. Because she could feel herself being drawn to him. And she couldn't afford for that to happen.

God, she really couldn't let that happen.

Not again.

"We try to not be assholes," Nick promised.

"Dylan slept through his alarm and is gonna be late, which means I hauled ass for no reason," a voice announced.

Jasmine turned to see the source of the voice and saw a man approaching from the direction of the elevator. Holding a Starbucks cup in each hand, his face held a sour expression until he noticed her, then he quickly pasted on what she considered a public relations smile.

Nick sighed and kept his voice low. "Let me rephrase that. I try not to be an asshole. But him? He's a natural at it."

She choked on a laugh when the other man glared at Nick. He thrust the cup of iced coffee at Nick, then offered a true, charming smile.

"Don't listen to him."

"You don't even know what I said," Nick muttered, taking a sip of his iced coffee.

"I know you, so it couldn't have been nice."

"This is my brother, Matt." Nick looked to the man. "This is Jasmine Burke."

Matt's dark eyes flicked from her to Nick and back again. His smile was as welcoming and warm as his brother's while they shook hands. "Hi, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she murmured.

He took a slow sip from his Starbucks cup. Again his eyes moved from her to Nick repeatedly, finally settling on his brother. His eyebrows lifted slowly.

Jasmine could tell she was watching them communicate silently. They looked at each other for a long moment, their expressions shifting a few times. Raised eyebrows. Pursed lips. A faint shake of Matt's head. Nick's eyes narrowing slightly, then his head tilting in her direction. Matt's eyes swiveled to her and she unconsciously straightened her posture, a bit unnerved by the lingering eye contact he maintained before looking back at his brother.

"Offer her the job," Nick said softly.

"What?" Jasmine gasped. Neither of them paid any attention to her, though.

Matt tilted his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Nick nodded firmly.

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. Confusion was etched on his face. "We still have to interview her."

Nick looked at Jasmine and his lips slid into a smile. "Nah, we don't."

"Well. Um, okay," Matt dragged the word out, still obviously bewildered. But he was smiling when he turned to her. "Welcome to AEW, I guess, Miss Burke."

"Jasmine," she corrected. "Or Jazz is fine, too."

"Jazzy?" He grinned.

"Of course." She looked to Nick. "But you still should interview me."

"We don't need to. You'll fit right in."

Jasmine snorted. "You mean there are frequently discussions about the merits of different brands of piano?"

He chuckled. "There will be now."

"You don't even know if I'm qualified," she pointed out.

With a sigh, he nudged Matt. "Is she qualified?"

"Obviously," Matt scoffed. "Otherwise we wouldn't be doing the interview."

"But you're not doing the interview," Jasmine said.

"Apparently Nick already did," he muttered, earning an elbow jab in his side.

"But you don't know if I know anything about social media," she said, unable to believe she was going to be offered the job.

"It's social media. Just throw some tweets out, do a few Instagram stories." Matt shrugged. "A twelve-year-old could do it."

"There's so much more to it than that. There are trends to keep up with, audience engagement, algorithms to study and learn, researching new platforms—" Jasmine cut off when she saw they were both grinning at her. Releasing a sigh, she twisted her hands. "Sorry."

"You know social media. You're qualified. Are you trying to talk us out of offering you the job?" Nick asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"No," she promised quickly. "I want the job. And I really kind of need it."

"Why?" This from Matt, who was studying her intently again.

"I've got this strange addiction to eating," she said without thinking. "And I don't think my landlord will let my looks and personality cover the rent."

Matt's head fell back as he began to laugh. "That's it, I'm sold. Nick's right. You'll fit right in. Welcome aboard, Jazzy."

"Really?" she asked softly.

"Really. Come on, let's go pretend I've been interviewing you before Dylan gets here, and I'll introduce him to you." Matt gestured to the ballroom.

She should thank them. But she knew if she opened her mouth she would begin blathering again, so she nodded. Turning to get her bag, she smiled in surprise to see Nick picking it up. She took it from him. Let herself look into his eyes for a few seconds. Then, hearing Matt still talking as he headed into the ballroom, she forced her eyes to break contact. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"You coming?" Matt called.

"See? Natural," Nick whispered as he and Jasmine followed his brother.

Laughing, she stepped into the ballroom and glanced around. It was just as grand as the foyer, and although all but one table and a few chairs were stacked in neat lines at the far end, she could easily imagine it set up for a wedding reception or a glittering gala. There was a faint hint of new paint, and the floor beneath her feet looked freshly polished.

Matt and Nick drew her into a conversation about wrestling, obviously testing her knowledge. Which, she was sad to admit, was lacking. She had watched some episodes of Dynamite and had even checked out the competition, but she knew so little she had a feeling she would be spending hours watching matches and promos, if only to learn the terminology. Her lack of knowledge didn't seem to bother them, though, and she appreciated Nick's assurance that she would pick up what she needed to know in no time.

Matt asked for her resumé and she reached into her bag for the packet she'd brought, panicking slightly when she dragged out a broken crayon with it. It fell to the floor and rolled, stopping at Nick's bright red sneaker. Frozen, she stared at it, managing to recover when Nick bent to retrieve it. "Sorry," she muttered, handing the packet to Matt. She looked down at the piece of yellow crayon when Nick dropped it into her hand, then stuffed it into her bag. "…My niece uses my bags for her teaching supplies."

"What does she teach?" Nick asked with a chuckle.

"Depends on the students. If it's her stuffed animals, they're learning about dinosaurs. If it's her dinosaurs, she's teaching colors and foods." This was easy. She could do this. "Yesterday she had a group class, so things got hectic."

"Did her dinosaurs start eating the stuffed animals?"

Matt snorted on a laugh but didn't look up from his studying of her resumé.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no it was her stuffed duck that started all the trouble. He's a stubborn meanie and was bullying the velociraptor. The stuffed animals joined forces and tried to massacre the dinosaurs. Pandemonium. Crayons, papers, and feathers all over the living room." Jasmine sighed as she recalled the mess that had taken an hour to clean up. She was certain there were still feathers she and Beatrice hadn't gotten. She'd found three in her purse that morning. And, surprisingly, she didn't mind when Nick began to laugh.

"Feathers?" Matt looked up, grinning. "Feathers?"

"One of my old pillows," she explained, rolling her eyes. "I think she said the stegosaurus used it as a shield?"

"Your niece sounds hilarious." Nick sat back, still chuckling.

"She is. She's also the cutest kid in my world, so she gets away with everything."

"Does she get that from you?" Matt asked sweetly.

Jasmine pressed her lips together to keep from laughing when the comment earned another jab from Nick. "No. My guilty conscience always kicks in and I admit to what I did so I can suffer the consequences and get it over with. Plus if I'm wrong I like to own up to it and use it as a learning opportunity."

Matt sighed, flicking the folder closed. "That's good. We don't like bullshit. Well, unless we're the ones dishing it out."

"Do you dish it out often?" She gave him a small smile.

"Only when it's needed," he answered after a moment.

"Every other day?" she guessed.

"At least," Nick sighed.

***

The production meeting ran longer than planned. Nick couldn't be upset, though, because current storylines had been hashed out further, some extending well into the next quarter. New ideas had been tossed around. Stretching out his legs, he yawned as Matt dropped into the seat next to him.

A thick folder landed on his lap. Nick grunted and sat up straight, catching it before it could slide to the floor. "What the hell?"

"Your social media girl's resumé," Matt explained. "Go ahead, take a look."

"Is it bad?" Nick asked, eyeing the folder warily. Weren't resumés supposed to be just a few pages? He opened the folder and flipped through the pages. Glancing up, he saw Kenny and Cody moving to sit near he and his brother.

"What's that?" Cody asked.

"Resumé for the new girl." Matt sat back and propped his ankle on the opposite knee. "She's way overqualified."

Nick skimmed the cover letter. Jasmine sold herself as passionate about expanding company engagement through social media, and he saw a few words about pursuing a love for technology when she needed to change careers. His eyes slid to the last paragraph, then the swirling signature at the bottom. Passing the page to Cody, he saw a list of schools, colleges, and universities. He blinked in surprise at the degrees attained and looked to his brother.

"Right?" Matt shook his head. "She's got a law degree."

"Why's she in social media if she's got a law degree?" Cody asked, reaching to take the next page.

"Maybe she hated law," Kenny suggested.

"Maybe, but who would hate the money she could make practicing?" Matt pointed out.

"She passed the bar," Cody said in an impressed tone. When Matt looked at him, he shrugged. "Megha mentioned that less than sixty percent pass on their first go."

Nick's eyes scanned the page in front of him. Her most recent work had been for area restaurants and night clubs. Flicking to the next page, he furrowed his brow when he noticed a three-month absence in her timeline. Then he remembered her saying she had left Miami at the first of the year. Before that, she had worked in the same place for five years. He followed the timeline and noted she had started as an intern before moving into paralegal work, then finally as a junior partner.

"I looked them up," Matt said when Nick handed that page to Cody.

"Shady?" he asked.

Matt shook his head. "One of the top firms in Miami. They handled that case a couple years ago. Remember? The woman that caught her husband cheating and dismembered him?"

There was a quartet of shudders, and Nick muttered a curse as he remembered just how the woman had begun dismembering her husband's body. He turned his attention back to Jasmine's resumé, flicking through the page and growing more impressed with each one. She was overqualified.

"I'm stumped," Matt said with a sigh. "I searched her online, thinking I'd find where she got disbarred or something, but there's only old articles about her cases."

"Maybe she didn't like it," Nick offered, echoing Kenny's earlier statement. "You met her. Does she strike you as the type to enjoy defending murderers and rapists?"

"No," his brother allowed. "But why change it up completely? Why leave a career where she had to be making six figures?"

"She wanted a change?" Kenny offered, accepting the resumé from Cody and settling in to read.

"Her references were practically glowing." Cody folded his hands behind his head. "So she couldn't have gotten into something shady and been fired."

"I don't think it's as big a deal as you're making it out to be," Nick said after a moment. "People change careers all the time."

"I know, I know." Matt shrugged. "It's just a mystery. Why would she leave that and come to work for… Well, us?"

"Are we that bad?" Cody grunted.

"No, but c'mon… She's gonna be making peanuts here."

"You're acting like there's a bunch of secrecy. She probably got burned out and needed something different. It happens." Nick shook his head again.

"You're being very defensive," Matt said, tilting his head. "Why?"

"I'm not being defensive."

His brother held up one finger as though he'd won a point. "Now you're in denial."

"How can I be in denial when I'm not being defensive?"

"Now you're being defensive about being in denial over being defensive," Matt pointed out.

Nick opened his mouth to argue. Brow furrowing, he tried to untangle his brother's reasoning. That proved to be impossible, though, so all he could manage was, "Huh?"

Matt ignored him, looking to Cody and Kenny. "He's got a boner for Jazzy."

"I don't have – Don't you dare say I'm in denial," he warned.

"Please," Matt scoffed. "You gave her the job without knowing if she was capable of doing it."

"Oh?" Kenny looked to Nick. "Is that so?"

"I could tell she would fit in with – And she – I don't have to defend myself," Nick decided. "And I don't have a boner for her."

"What's she look like?" Cody's voice was deceptively casual.

"She's hot," Matt announced. And, when they all looked at him, he shrugged. "What? She is. Right, Nick?"

"I didn't notice," he ground out.

Silence. Three disbelieving expressions.

Nick rolled his eyes. "I didn't."

The silence lengthened.

"She's okay I guess?" he offered.

"She's okay," Matt mocked.

"Her looks don't even matter," Nick said, growing weary of the conversation. "She's an employee."

"So's Brandi, and Cody bangs her regularly," his brother retorted. "And you just said her looks don't matter because she's an employee. Which means that if she wasn't, you'd—"

"I'm going to work on BTE," Nick announced, getting to his feet. "You're giving me a headache."

"Because I'm right," Matt muttered.

"You always think you are."

"Because I usually am."

"You'd think I'd be used to this by now," Cody said to no one in particular. "And yet, I'm still amazed that they bicker like kids."

"We're not bickering," Nick said. At the exact same time as Matt. Looking to his brother, he tried to fight the urge to laugh.

Matt's eyes widened and he gave his head a little shake, and they both began to snicker.

"When does she start?" Kenny asked after their laughter had subsided.

"Next week." Matt tossed the folder to Cody. "Which means Nick's got five days to get his boner under control."

Nick turned at the door. "I don't—"

"Have a boner for her, " Matt finished, rolling his eyes. "Maybe if you keep saying it enough, it'll come true."

***

Jasmine climbed out of the car and reached inside for her backpack. Balancing her cup of coffee in one hand, she approached the entrance, trying to fish the temporary pass she'd been given after meeting Dylan from her bag. She grunted in frustration when the lanyard caught on something and yanked, lurching to a stop as a small plastic dinosaur flew from her bag.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" she cried, watching the toy bounce across the pavement.

"That's not nice. His mother's been dead for millions of years."

"I could be talking about his father," she countered, glancing up from the pair of brightly colored sneakers that walked up to the toy.

Nick bent to pick it up, smiling as she headed towards him. "Does your niece know you curse at her toys when she's not around?"

"You remembered my niece?" Jasmine murmured in surprise.

"Hard to forget a girl that has wars between dinosaurs and stuffed animals. Is this one a deserter?" he asked, turning the toy over between his fingers. "He doesn't look like he's seen battle."

"Shows how much you know. Brontosauruses are thought to have been a relatively peaceful species, but they could definitely do damage if threatened." Putting the lanyard around her neck, she enjoyed his soft chuckle. And let herself get another look at his eyes. "To answer your question, though, he wasn't present for the battle. He's been living in my bag for two weeks."

"Prisoner of war?"

"Hiding out because he hates the stegosaurus," she explained. And, as much fun as she was having talking to him, she held out her hand. "I should get inside and get to work."

"I'll walk with you," he said.

She almost asked why. Then she decided that he was just being nice. The adjective rolled off him in every way, from his easygoing posture to his warm smile. To him remembering her niece.

"How is your niece?"

"Fine. A little grumpy that I have to leave for a few days a week, but I think she understands." She tried not to think of the tears she'd seen in those big brown eyes, or the ones she'd shed after closing the door of the babysitter's apartment.

"You two are close, huh?" he asked, reaching to hold the door open for her.

"Very close," she confirmed.

"Does she watch the show?"

"She's watched some with me." Jasmine showed her pass to the security guard just inside the door, then paused, wondering which way she was supposed to go. "She really likes… The two men with the masks? You and Matt had a match with them last week."

"Lucha Brothers," Nick supplied with a grin. "They're pretty great. C'mon, I'll show you the social media room."

Grateful, she followed him along seemingly endless corridors. She knew she would eventually learn her way around backstage, but at the moment she wondered if she should ask for a map.

"Oh, before I forget, you left your copy of the contract when you met with Cody last week," he said, turning a corner. "It's in the EVP office, make sure you get it, okay?"

"Right." She hadn't meant to leave it behind but had found the company's lawyer's assessing look a little unnerving. It wasn't until she had gotten home and looked closely at the woman's card that she remembered their meeting years before. She wondered if she remembered how they met, or if she were just trying to figure out how she knew her name or face. "I'm not usually forgetful."

Nick's smile was understanding as he stopped outside an open door. "No worries. Here you go. I'll see you later?"

He would? Why? Jasmine nodded, though, and peered into the room to see Dylan plugging up a computer. He looked up and greeted her with a wave, and she looked back to Nick. "Thank you."

"Anytime. Have a good first day, Jasmine."

She hesitated in the doorway for a few seconds while he headed away. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had forgotten something. Finally shrugging the notion away, she entered the room and set her bags down, ready to get to work.

It was an hour before she remembered that Nick hadn't given her the toy back.

[liberty-barnes]

Switching Things Up

Louis Tomlinson x Female!Reader 

University AU / Non-Famous AU

Summary: Five times Louis almost asked you out and the one time you asked him.

Warnings: cursing, fluffffff, bit of angst, misunderstandings, and Louis pining.

Word Count: 5k words

ERT: 20 minutes

A/N: i'm so in love with Louis it's not even funny anymore. also, it's finally out!!!!!!!

Inspired by: "Kiss You" "18" "Infinity" by One Direction, that one scene in the This Is Us movie. 

Masterlist | Taglist

Louis's First

It was just another usual day for Louis. Wake up at six o'clock, drink his tea, go to class, pick up the girls from school, have lunch all together, and start his shift at Toys 'R' Us.

He genuinely liked working there. He loved kids, it was fun to be surrounded by toys, and they were quite respectful of his uni hours, so overall, it was quite a nice gig.

He was working on the floor today, greeting costumers, seeing if they need help with anything, trying to keep the shelves tidy. It was quite a slow day so since he was done with all his homework he took some time to play with the toys a bit. 

"Okay, they've got to be here somewhere. Don't worry, we'll find you one just like it."

He lifted his head from where it was bowed over one of the pianos in the lower shelves, giving up on trying to get it to be straight and cracking his knuckles a bit.

The woman sounded pretty young and her voice was very nice so he started playing a random tune on the piano that was a bit more level with him (and sounded better too), just waiting for her to round the corner and spot him.

"Auntie, look, it's right there!"

The girl that passed right by him was absolutely divine. He'd never seen anyone as gorgeous as her and if the way his heart stuttered in his chest was any indication, his body seemed to agree. He straightened his shirt and ran his hands through his hair before turning around, ready to offer his help and maybe get her number after.

And if he pouted when she walked right past him with not the smallest reaction, nobody will ever know.

Louis's Second

He sat on a wooden bench as he waited in front of his youngest sisters' primary school. He was among parents and nannies, waiting for the bell to go off and the children to leave. His fingers tapped a random beat on his thigh while he hummed a melody that's been floating in his brain for a few minutes, trying to match some words to it.

So tell me, girl, if every time we touch

You get this kind of rush

He was about to take out his phone to write it down when a girl sat on the other side of the bench, taking out her headphones and putting them neatly into her bag.

But it wasn't just any girl.

It was the one he'd dubbed 'Future Mrs. Tommo', the girl from Toys 'R' Us. He refused to let her go this time, but he had no idea how to start the conversation.

That is, until she took out a familiar-looking binder, flipping it until she reached her desired page and started filling it out. It had been a mere thirty seconds before she started frowning.

He's never been so grateful to have chosen music as his minor.

"Are you in Charlton's class?"

The girl looked at him and he momentarily froze in place as his blue eyes met her (y/e/c) ones.

"Yeah, are you in his class?"

"Not anymore, I had him last year, though, he's a prick."

She huffed out a laugh and leaned back on the bench.

"Tell me about it, we've been talking about the Renaissance Era for two months and he still hasn't gotten to the interesting part."

"I thanked every deity imaginable that I got Natalie this year, I don't think I could do another year of that old man."

She turned to him and cocked her head.

"I've never heard of a 'Natalie' before."

"Natalie Dubois, she's a new teacher from France. Got a bit of a weird accent but she's a hell of a good teacher, and fun too, she gives us a bit more freedom, nothing like Charlton."

"What year are you?"

"Third, you?"

"Second."

He nodded and she tapped her pen against her binder.

"What're you studying?"

He was quite happy that she kept the conversation going.

"Drama major, music minor."

"Very artistic."

"I live to entertain. What about you?"

"Psychology major, music minor."

"Ooh, a brain doctor, I've always wondered if Psych majors could identify psychopaths from a single conversation."

She laughed at that and he felt his heart wanting to beat out of his chest. He wanted to record that sound so he could listen to it all the time. Use it as a ringtone, a melody for his next song, his alarm in the morning. He was positive he'd wake up in a much better mood if that's what brought him out of his slumber.

Unfortunately, he was interrupted before he could even ask for her number, or name, mind you, by the children's excited cheers.

Sooner than he would have liked, a little black-haired boy came running out and into her arms, Phoebe and Daisy only a couple steps behind.

"It was nice talking to you, I'll see you around!"

He could only wish her luck with that idiot teacher before she was gone and he had to care for his two little girls.

Louis's Third

The music room was quiet as he sat in front of the piano. He took out his notebook and started to play, following the notes messily scribbled on it.

I got a heart, and I got a soul, believe me, I will use them both

We made a start, be it a false one, I know

Baby I don't want to feel alone

He tried out, but something felt off. He tried a different note for the end, content with the way it sounded and scribbling it onto the notebook right after.

So kiss me where I lay down, my hands pressed to your cheeks

A long way from the playground

He frowned, changing a few notes here and there.

It sounded better, but there was still something missing.

"Try a key higher, it might sound better."

He heard her voice from the doorway, heart almost beating out of his chest for two entirely different reasons, though he chose to focus on the "I was startled" one instead of the "My dream girl is here" one.

He did as she told him though, and it did sound better.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She looked entirely too pretty when she smiled. He wondered if the sun was really necessary given that she smiled bright enough to light up this galaxy and the next. He busied himself with writing the changes in his notebook while she went from table to table, searching up and down for something he wasn't aware of. He secretly hoped she wouldn't find it, just so he could stare at her for a bit longer.

"How're classes with Charlton going? Still a prick?"

"The day that man stops being a prick, angels will be falling from the sky."

He didn't see her fall, but he was pretty sure she was an angel. 

"A-ha!"

He saw her lift a blue journal, the word 'Songs' beautifully calligraphed on it in gold. She put it back in her bag and approached him so she was standing right behind him, reading the words in his notebook. 

He felt her shoulder grazing his and smelled her perfume. It was fruity and sweet. Peaches, maybe?

"That's a beautiful song, you're very talented."

He felt his cheeks heat up at the praise.

"Thanks."

He took a deep breath. This is it. He's gonna do it. He's gonna ask her out.

"Hey, I was wondering-"

"Shit!"

She got up in a flash and took her backpack from where she had put it down next to the seat.

"I'm gonna be late for my appointment but hold that thought 'til we meet again?"

She looked so sorry that he couldn't bear to tell her no.

Louis's Fourth

"I'm telling you, Niall, she's the most perfect girl to have ever walked this Earth."

He sighed as he faceplanted onto the couch, the blonde still strumming his guitar as if Louis wasn't having an existential crisis a mere six inched away from him.

"You don't even know her name."

"I'll just call her mine."

The punch that landed on his arm was deserved, he'll admit it.

"The way I'm seeing it, you just need to find out who she is and ask her out, it's really not that hard."

"But I don't know where to find her."

"Wrong, you know that she picks up her nephew at midday. A nephew that goes to the same school as your little sisters. Just figure out the kid's name, find the school records, and trace it back to her. Easy."

He lifted his head from the pillow and glared at Niall.

"That's illegal."

He shrugged.

"Most importantly, though, I'm awful with computers so we'd need to find someone to do it for us."

"I know a guy."

He nodded, that would be plan B, assuming they find a plan A first.

The door opened to the sound of Harry's amazing rendition of Juice, and Louis smiled unconsciously.

"Nialler, you home?"

"Living room!"

The brunette walked into the room and fist-bumped them, lifting Louis's legs so he could slide under them and sit.

"Why do you look like a kicked puppy?"

"I met the girl of my dreams but I don't know her name and have no idea how to contact her."

Unlike Niall, Harry was much more the romantic type. He believed in fate, love at first sight, and all that stupid shit in the books he read his sisters every night. It was no surprise when he gave him the most poetic, love-filled piece of advice Louis had ever heard.

"You just need to have faith, Lou. If she's the one for you then the universe will find a way to get your paths to cross again. Before you know it you'll be married with four kids and a cat, living on a little farm with a giant trampoline in your backyard."

"How did I end up with you two as my best friends? I either get a 'break into a primary school' or 'trust the universe', there is no in-between."

Niall laughed loudly and Harry patted his calves reassuringly before they heard the door open and their friends' voices echoing in the small flat.

"Hey, boys?"

"Living room!"

Liam came in with a couple of packs of beer, followed by Zayn and a third person whose footsteps he didn't recognize.

(Because yes, he'd memorized the sound of his friends' footsteps, sue him.)

"Lou, stop sulking, it's time to drink beers and be happy."

"I'm deeply sorry if my existential crisis is bothering you, Zayn, I'll try to suffer silently."

The laugh he heard made his breath hitch and his heart stutter in his chest.

He knew that laugh.

That laugh had been playing on a loop in Louis' brain for two weeks now.

He tried (read: failed miserably) to sit up naturally, though it looked a bit more forced than he wanted it to.

"Mystery Boy!"

She pointed at him with a gleeful expression on his face and if his soul hadn't left his body before, it sure had now.

"Hey."

Really? 'Hey'? That's the best he can do?

"I never caught your name."

She cocked her head to the side adorably, arm stretched over her knee from her place on the floor, leaning against the armchair.

"I never threw it."

It was stronger than him, he didn't even register his comment until she started laughing and he felt his cheeks burn up, the overwhelming sense of having fucked everything up taking over him.

"Drama majors, always clowning around."

He let out a relieved breath and smiled when she didn't seem to take any offense to it.

"You guys know each other?"

Liam, lovely Liam, looking like a confused puppy but bless his soul for asking because it made her speak and Louis loved hearing her voice so much, it sounded better than any music the world could provide.

"We've kind of met. I'm (Y/n), by the way."

(Y/n).

(Y/n), (Y/n), (Y/n).

(Y/n) Tomlinson.

That had a nice ring to it.

A really nice ring to it.

Mrs. (Y/n) Tomlinson.

Perfect.

"Usually, this is the part where you tell me your name. I can't keep referring to you as 'Mystery Boy'."

She giggled and his cheeks heated up again, though he didn't mind embarrassing himself if it earned him a laugh from her every time.

"I'm Louis. Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson."

"Nice to formally meet you, Louis."

He smiled and thanked the sun, moon, and stars for this opportunity. Because really, there wasn't a better opportunity than this one.

She's here.

With him.

(And his friends, but who cares about them?)

And he finally knew her name.

He could ask her out.

No fear.

No time-clock.

No hesitation.

"Here's your juice, love."

"Thanks, babe."

She threw Zayn a kiss and he felt his heart break.

Oh no.

"Guys, I have to tell you about this girl I met."

Louis sat down properly on the couch so he had a clear view of Zayn's face.

"Ooh, gossip."

The younger boy swatted him before letting out a dreamy sigh.

"She's just- She's so pretty and kind, and her laugh, she has the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard. She's a psych major so she always has something interesting to say and her friends are so cool. She's... She's just perfect."

Louis's Fifth

And perfect she is.

Louis left the flat right after he realized that the girl he'd been pining over was the same girl Zayn had been seeing, muttering about homework and essays and studying or whatever.

Now here he was, working the register at Toys 'R' Us, his usually bright and genuine smile replaced by an incredibly awkward and forced one, trying not to let the heartbreak eat him alive.

"Tommo!"

His coworker came over to him.

"Switch with me, James asked to see you."

Great, and now he was probably gonna get sacked from the only job he ever liked.

He walked with a frown on his face to his manager's office and sat down on the chair, waiting for him to finish what looked like a very intense phone call about... mechanical kittens?

He hung up a couple of minutes later and turned to Louis, resting his elbows on the desk.

"Louis. Louis, Louis, Louis. D'you mind telling me why my best worker's been sulking all day?"

He shrunk down a bit on the chair, suddenly feeling very small. Toys 'R' Us is a magical place, workers are supposed to be happy all the time.

"Just... Stuff."

"It's okay to be sad, but we worry about you. I mean, some of our regular costumers asked if you were alright cause you weren't jumping and joking. Just tell me what's wrong so I can try to help."

He let out a breath and let his head fall onto the desk.

"I met this girl and she's amazing, and kind, and funny, and just overall perfect."

"So you're sulking because you met the love of your life?"

"No! I'm sulking because the love of my life is dating one of my best mates."

He froze for a while, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"Zayn's dating her. I found out yesterday."

Jame took a deep breath and got up from his chair so he could get closer to Louis.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Not a Jimmy Hug."

"Shut up, you deserve one right now, no matter how much you like to pretend you hate them."

When he came out of his boss's office, more relaxed and with a small smile on his face, he immediately spotted you next to the pianos.

He took his break at that moment and only returned when he saw you leave through his place in the alleyway right next to the parking lot.

Your First

You took a deep breath and tightened your grip on your nephew's hand, steeling yourself before entering the store.

"We have to get one with brown fur, just like Summer!"

You promised little Lucas that if he behaved at the doctor's you'd get him get a new plushie, a German Shepherd, just like your parents' dog.

"Okay, they've got to be here somewhere. Don't worry, we'll find you one just like it."

You looked up and down aisles, trying to find the plushies but not knowing where to look. You could hear someone playing the piano a couple of feet away and let yourself be lulled by the sound of the song, you'd always loved Tchaikovsky.

"Auntie, look, it's right there!"

Your nephew pointed at the shelves just on the other side of the piano (and the beautiful pianist standing in front of it). You let Lucas pull you towards the shelves and search carefully for the perfect plushie while you tried to not let the man get to you.

He was gorgeous. Like, model tier, plaster his face on your walls gorgeous.

And you were shy.

So you dragged the time out and mentally asked him to approach you, pouting when you realized he couldn't read your thoughts and your nephew was asking to leave.

Your Second

You speed-walked to the school, still riled up because of your class with bloody Charlton.

You wanted nothing more than to sit down on the bench, listen to your music, and people-watch until your nephew got out.

But you weren't expecting him to be there.

You were still too shy to approach him so you just took out your headphones and sat on the other side of the bench, taking out your binder and filling out a few things before purposely stopping somewhere and tapping your pen on the paper, pouting and wishing that he'd 'save you' from your boredom.

"Are you in Charlton's class?"

Bingpot!

You looked at him and were temporarily taken aback by just how blue his eyes were, but forced yourself to speak. You weren't gonna get anywhere by keeping quiet.

"Yeah, are you in his class?"

"Not anymore, I had him last year, though, he's a prick."

You huffed out a laugh and leaned back on the bench, trying to look nonchalant.

"Tell me about it, we've been talking about the Renaissance Era for two months and he still hasn't gotten to the interesting part."

"I thanked every deity imaginable that I got Natalie this year, I don't think I could do another year of that old man."

You turned to him and cocked your head.

"I've never heard of a 'Natalie' before."

That's a lie, you knew who she was, you'd even interacted with her.

"Natalie Dubois, she's a new teacher from France. Got a bit of a weird accent but she's a hell of a good teacher, and fun too, she gives us a bit more freedom, nothing like Charlton."

"What year are you?"

"Third, you?"

"Second."

He nodded and you tapped your pen against your binder.

"What're you studying?"

"Drama major, music minor."

"Very artistic."

"I live to entertain. What about you?"

"Psychology major, music minor."

"Oh, a brain doctor, I've always wondered if Psych majors could identify psychopaths from a single conversation."

You laughed at that. Usually, you hated when people were that shallow about your job but when he said it, it didn't sound shallow or mock-ish. It sounded like a legitimate concern, like those things you think of at three in the morning when you can't sleep.

You were interrupted by the school bell and cursed mentally to not have gotten here earlier so you could talk to him more. Your nephew came running towards you and two little girls followed, walking towards Louis. He looked so good with children clinging to him that you had to physically extract yourself from that situation before you said or did something embarrassing.

"It was nice talking to you, I'll see you around!"

Your Third

You walked to the music room, praying that your song notebook was left behind there. You don't know what you'd do without it. It has every single one of your creations there.

You heard someone play the piano and groaned. You were way too sleep-deprived to deal with human interaction.

But this wasn't just any human interaction now, was it? Because Mystery Boy was there.

(He's been dubbed Mystery Boy in your head since you have no idea what his actual name is.)

You stood in the doorway for a while, notebook be damned, just watching him play, then frown, then play again, and light up like a happy little puppy once he found the right melody. Until he reached a complicated part and couldn't find the right combination.

"Try a key higher, it might sound better."

He jumped a bit and you felt bad for scaring him, but the way he blushed after was cute. He didn't answer, just did as you advised and smiled once he found that it sounded like he wanted it to.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

You smiled and the blush on his face was entirely too adorable and you went from table to table, pretending you didn't remember exactly where you were sitting that morning just so you could spend a bit longer than necessary in his presence.

"How're classes with Charlton going? Still a prick?"

"The day that man stops being a prick, angels will be falling from the sky."

You couldn't stall anymore, it would just be awkward at this point.

"A-ha!"

You showed off your journal before putting it back in your bag and going down the stairs of the auditorium so you could stand right next to him.

Deciding to be subtle but a little more daring than usual, you stood next to him, shoulders grazing while you read the words on his journal.

He smelled heavenly, like cologne and deodorant, and something that had to be entirely him. You wanted to bury yourself in that scent.

"That's a beautiful song, you're very talented."

You'd never get tired of watching him blush.

"Thanks."

You heard him take a deep breath just as your eyes went to the clock and you remembered your doctor's appointment with Lucas, he had to get the second dose for his shots and you were the only one who could get him to quiet down.

"Hey, I was wondering-"

"Shit!"

You got up in a flash and took the backpack from where you had put it down next to the seat.

"I'm gonna be late for my appointment but hold that thought 'til we meet again?"

He answered a small yes and you dashed out of the room.

Your Fourth

You followed Zayn to his friend's flat off-campus. You had met him a couple of months ago through Gigi, your best friend. Those two had been flirting for ages and it honestly made you sick, but Zayn was an easy-going person and you got along great, so when you mentioned that you had plans of getting drunk alone tonight, he offered to take you to his friend's house so you could get drunk with some company.

You entered the flat with Zayn and who you now knew to be Liam, saying hello to the two men in the room and tilting your head in questioning at the man lying face down on the couch.

"Lou, stop sulking, it's time to drink beers and be happy."

"I'm deeply sorry if my existential crisis is bothering you, Zayn, I'll try to suffer silently."

You couldn't stop the laugh bubbling from your chest as you sat down next to the armrest.

He sat up way too quickly to be safe and you smiled brightly once you realized who it was.

"Mystery Boy!"

It was fate, it had to be. This was the universe's way of telling you that you belonged together.

"Hey."

You giggled at his awkward greeting.

"I never caught your name."

"I never threw it."

You started laughing at his sassiness. If you weren't completely smitten before you sure were now.

"Drama majors, always clowning around."

"You guys know each other?"

Liam asked and you jumped into an explanation.

"We've kind of met. I'm (Y/n), by the way."

He said nothing for a couple of seconds and you worried you were being too forward.

"Usually, this is the part where you tell me your name. I can't keep referring to you as 'Mystery Boy'."

He blushed again, he seemed to be doing that a lot and you wondered if that was as unusual for him as it was for you to be this confident.

"I'm Louis. Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson."

(Y/n) Tomlinson.

That had a nice ring to it.

A really nice ring to it.

Mrs. (Y/n) Tomlinson.

Perfect.

"Nice to formally meet you, Louis."

He smiled and you wanted to yell at the sun to hide because it was stopping you from seeing the true brightness of Louis's eyes.

"Here's your juice, love."

"Thanks, babe."

You threw Zayn a kiss and he rolled his eyes, already used to the fact that you were kind of nickname-addicted and very endearing.

And also kind of drunk, which is why he brought you the juice.

On second thought, that might be why you were being this confident.

You thought everything was going well, but as suddenly as it started, the object of your affection was out the door, muttering about appointments, or homework, or something you didn't understand, but that sure made you frown for the rest of the evening.

Your Fifth

You walked into Toys 'R' Us for two reasons that day. 

The first is to get your nephew a birthday present.

The second is to (hopefully) see Louis.

You wanted to talk to him, the way he left the flat was strange, so you took advantage of the fact that you needed to get something from the store to try and see him.

You saw him go to the back as soon as you got here and decided to wait a bit for him to come back, looking at everything slower than you needed even though you knew exactly what to get. After fifteen minutes, you were pretty sure he wasn't going to come back. Maybe his shift ended already? 

You took your present and left the store, looking around to see if you found him, to no avail.

The One

You marched to the door with only one goal in mind: ask Louis Tomlinson out on a date. It's been a week of him ignoring you, running away as soon as he saw you, barely answering your greetings and you were more than done. 

If he wanted to turn you down, then it at least he would do it to your face, none of this ghosting nonsense. You don't want to spend the rest of your life thinking what might have been if you'd just reached out.

So, you talked to Niall, who gave you Louis's address and his schedule. You knew he was home and he had no way to escape you. He was babysitting his sisters, after all, so there was no way he could just run away.

You rang the doorbell and nervously wrang your hands in front of you, taking deep breaths and mentally going over what you wanted to say.

"I'll be right there! No, Daisy!"

His voice rang through the door and you smiled fondly at the sound, imagining him taking care of his sisters did something to you for some reason.

"Hi, sorry for the-"

He froze when he saw you, eyes going wide and mouth hanging open.

"Hi."

You said, and that seemed to bring him out of his stupor.

"(Y/n)."

"Yep."

"(Y/n)."

It seemed like he couldn't quite believe you were here.

"That's my name. Don't wear it out, though."

He shook his head and started stuttering his way through a response, trying to ask what you were doing here, at his house.

"Um, Niall told me where you lived. I had something I wanted to ask you."

When he didn't answer, you went for it.

"So, um, you've kind of been avoiding me lately which is quite unfortunate because I happen to like you... a lot... and so I-"

"Does Zayn know that?"

You were cut off in the middle of your rant and tilted your head confusingly at him.

"What?"

"Does Zayn know you 'like me a lot'?"

He looked angry, jaw clenched shut and arms crossed in front of his chest, which was no help to the attraction you felt towards him, that shirt did wonders for his biceps.

"Why should Zayn know about it?"

"Well, he's your boyfriend after all."

Wait, what?

"Well if he's my boyfriend then I should probably let Gigi know he's cheating."

He seemed to blanch at that.

"Gigi."

"Yeah. Gigi. You know, the girl he's been pining over since the beginning of the semester, they got together officially two weeks ago."

Only his sisters' voices could be heard.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So, um... you and Zayn... you're not..."

"Together? No."

You laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear nervously.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

You snapped your head up and grinned devilishly.

"I believe I asked you first."

He laughed and took a step forward.

"Then I will most certainly go out with you, as long as you let me pay. Take it as an apology for how stupid I was."

"I guess that could be arranged."

He was so close you could smell his cologne. Still so, so tasty. Still so, so wonderful.

"Do I have to wait until the end of our first date to kiss you?"

"I think you've done enough waiting already."

"I think so too."

And he kissed you.

And you were happy.

here it is babes! finally out!

i hope you liked it and if you do, don’t forget to comment, reblog, like and stuff

have a nice day/morning/afternoon/night/whatever

-Love, Libby

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@bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ @hyluas 

ONE DIRECTION 

@hhighlydisfunctional1  

[moonsofmars-writes]

One Thousands Summers

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 七つの大罪 - 鈴木央 | Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins - Suzuki Nakaba (Anime & Manga) Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Diane & Fairy King Harlequin, Diane/Fairy King Harlequin (pre-relationship) Characters: Fairy King Harlequin, Diane (Nanatsu no Taizai), Other(s)

Summary: After being condemned for his sin, King is serving his sentence in prison. Time passes slowly and the only thing he can do as he waits to be free is losing himself in his memories. When summer comes to visit him once again, all he can remember is Diane.

Notes: Finally posting my piece for Nanatsu no Taizine: Vol II @nntzine! I’m glad I could take part in it! I hope you enjoy my piece.

Days are all the same in his cell. The light that enters from the tiny window, nothing more than a crevice just under the ceiling, is enough to let him know when the sun is up and when the darkness falls, yet it’s easy to lose count, to sleep through the days and the weeks hoping that this will make them pass faster. But even so, Harlequin always knows when summer comes.

It’s the perfume, rich and inebriating, that first infiltrates through the cracks and the bars, filling the room and waking him up from his drowsiness. The scent embraces him like a warm grip and tells him of the blossoming rhododendrons and the delicate lilacs and the too many wildflowers blooming in the fields around the prison. Then it comes the heat and the moisture, the intense sunlight almost hurting his eyes. The sounds of summer are different too, from the calls of the migrating birds to the steps and voices of the peasants getting ready for the harvesting of the fields. Only then, when his every sense is enveloped in the feeling of summer, Harlequin allows himself to acknowledge that another year of his sentence has passed. He lost count of the days long ago, but he can’t stop counting the summers. One, two, ten, and then twenty and fifty and soon they’ll be one hundred - and the day he will be free comes closer, slowly but steadily.

Read on AO3

It’s also a sign that spring has passed, and there is always something relieving about it. He loves spring, he always did, since the time he could spend it surrounded by the trees and blossoming flowers of his native land. Yet, this season is hard for him, even harder than the windy autumn or the cold, lonely winter. Spring is the Fairy King's Forest, the Fairies flying between the vines and laughing and asking him to join them, for once. Spring is Elaine and her honey eyes - they looked so hurt and shone with tears when she begged him not to leave her, and yet he did. Spring is Helbram and his carefree laugh - and his desperate cry as tears ran down his cheeks until blood suffocated his voice. Their ghosts hunt him with the smell of bluebells and primroses, insinuating in his thoughts and dreams, a constant reminder of how he failed them, of how he is still failing them, even though he is doing everything he can to atone for his sins.

Summer is different. Summer is the light entering their cave and waking them up in the morning, is the glimmer of the stream they went to get water. It’s the bright days spent in the meadows, flying in the clear air as she ran after him, laughing and trying to catch him. It’s the shimmer in her eyes and her beaming smile. Summer is her. Diane. Harlequin still can’t understand why this is the season that reminds him of her the most, as they spent together entire centuries, but there is no doubt that when summer comes, it’s easier to lose himself in the memories of her, to forget, if only for just some time, about the people who are hopelessly waiting for him. Strangely enough, thinking about Diane doesn't quite hurt. He broke the promise he made her and he lost her and he knows he could never see her again, and yet his heart aches just a bit with bitterness and longing. He still misses her like air, but that’s alright because he knows that it was the only way. She is okay without him, she has to be. Without her memories of him, she has nothing that could burden her young shoulders, nothing she will want to wait for, maybe in vain.

Harlequin remembers, though. And when summer comes again to visit him, he can take a sigh of relief and close his eyes and dream.

He dreams about the days they used to spend just laying near the riverside, enjoying the warm sun of the afternoon and the softness of the green grass, the singing of the birds and the gurgling of the water. Sometimes, they both fell asleep and woke up only when the dark started to fall upon them like a cool blanket. Sometimes, though, she was the one who woke him up, with a question to ask or something to show him.

"Harlequin! Look what I found!" His eyes snap open at the sound of Diane's excited voice, his mind still a bit addled and lost in a confused dream. He sits up and blinks as he looks up at her and at the green bush she holds in her hands, and it takes him a moment to notice the little red berries between the leaves. "What are they, Harlequin? Can we eat them?"

“Raspberries,” he declares after taking flight to get a better look, “and they are ripe enough to eat them! They are good!” She beams at him and nods, but when she tries to take the berries between her thumb and index, the tiny fruits explode, leaving a red stain on her fingers and a frown on her face. “Let me,” Harlequin says, furrowing his brows as he uses his magic to pick all the fruits he finds.

One by one, they float towards Diane’s open palm and here they set down, forming a little pile. She watches them amazed as they move in the air, then, hesitantly, she brings her hand to her mouth. “Oh,” she says, after tasting some of them, eyes widening, “they are sweet!”

Then she finishes the ones on her hand and smiles at him, and her lips and teeth are red as her palm. The utter and simple happiness in her eyes makes him giggle and feel pleasingly warm as he puts a raspberry in his mouth. It's sweet, just a bit sour and it's perfect as her joyful smile and amused laugh when the juice stains his hands and lips as well.

Then a door slams and when Harlequin opens his eyes, there is no sun and there is no river and there is no Diane. Only the stone of his cell's walls and a bowl of dry bread and rotting vegetables in front of the wooden door that wasn't there before. That's all the food he will get for the day and as usual, he forces himself to eat it - yet, if he doesn't look at it he can still feel the full taste of the raspberries on his tongue.

It was summer, Harlequin remembers as he sits again against the wall, that one time they found a fawn stuck in a ravine. Diane lifted it in her hand to take it out as he held and calmed it, and her eyes shined with joy when he told her how grateful it was. It was still summer when in their wandering they discovered a small lake not far from the river, the water deep enough just to get to Diane’s calves, and her laugh seems to echo in the cell as it did in that clearing, centuries ago.

And it was summer the night of the falling stars. His stifling cell is nothing like the vast fields surrounding their cave and the stone floor can’t be compared to the softness of the grass, but Harlequin lies down anyway and when he closes his eyes, he can see the infinity of the starry sky above him and smell the earth and the flowers in bloom. That night they lingered outside longer than usual, and Diane was lying next to him, excitedly pointing out the constellations she identified.

He blinks, and suddenly there is a flash in the sky, slicing the cloak of darkness like a blade. “Look over there!” Diane exclaims and raises her arm, “a falling star! Oh - look!” There is another, Harlequin notices, and he holds his breath as follows its path in the air. More stars follow and they watch in awe as the sky seems to fall apart. When he glances at her, maybe after a few minutes, her mouth is open and her eyes wide, so close that he can see the lights shine on her irises. “Why do they fall?” She suddenly asks, her voice filled with wonder.

Harlequin knows she probably doesn’t expect him to know the answer, yet he takes some moments to think about it before shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he whispers back, “maybe it just happens, like when ripe fruits fall from a tree.”

Diane hums, her gaze still on the sky. “Do you think,” she murmurs, and this time her voice is so low that he can barely hear her, “they feel lonely?”

“Why should they?”

She bites her lip, taking her time before answering, “They are falling away from the sky and the other stars and leaving everything behind. It seems lonely.”

Harlequin knows she is not just talking about the stars. She told him about the day she left home and how she spent years living alone before meeting him. The thought fills his chest with anguish and bitterness but he casts them away as he rises, flying closer to her. “Maybe they are falling alone,” he says, “and leaving everything they know, but wherever they are going, look at how many stars are in the sky!” He gestures at it but doesn’t look away from her, meeting her curious gaze when she glances at him. “Wherever they are going, they will not be alone. They will find a new place and new stars and a new home, just like - like me. When you found me, I had nothing and was nothing, but you saved me. You gave me a place I can call home. I still don’t know what happened to me, but falling led me to you and I - I am grateful it did.”

Harlequin breathes in, warmth creeping over his cheeks, and only then it hits him, how true his words are. How the fear and anguish of not having a past has slowly lessened as the days went and his affection for the young Giant girl has grown instead, like mulberry trees. It’s only when Diane turns her head to look at him that he notices a glimmer of tears in her eyes, and his stomach clenches as he prepares to apologize - he would have never wanted her to cry. But she smiles a wide, joyful smile. “Thank you,” she whispers, “thank you for staying with me. You are my home too, Harlequin.”

He feels like a lump in his throat that doesn’t let any other word out, so he simply nods and smiles back even though he is the one who should thank her, for saving his life and healing his wounds and giving him a place to stay. For her kindness and selflessness, and for the joy and innocence that pervade everything she does. For making him know love, because he loves her and it’s love that makes him feel warm and fills his chest with joy every moment they spend together. It’s not like he didn’t know before, yet it’s only now, as he thinks about how he could tell her, that he fully realises the enormity of his feelings. And suddenly, when she smiles and reaches for him with her finger and he holds its tip, he realizes that his love will not fade nor wither. He loves her now, and he will until he dies. He would want to tell her, but the silence around them is too peaceful and emotional to break it, and so no word leaves his mouth. They stay like this for hours, her finger in his hands, as they watch more stars falling.

When Harlequin opens his eyes he is in his cell again and tears shine on his lashes. He lied to her, that night, and that’s what hurts the most. He loved her and still loves her with all his soul, and yet he lied and deceived her. It’s in moments like this that he is almost happy she can’t remember about him. Yet, he thinks, eyes half open and fixed on the stone ceiling, yet he knows that as soon as he’ll have the chance, he will look for her. Before he has to serve his sentence, and return to the Fairy King’s Forest, to Elaine, and apologize with her for making her wait. But then, when he’ll be sure that everything is alright, he will fly towards the Giants’ lands and he will find her. Diane will not remember him, but he can take it as long as she is happy. As long as he can see her smile again, at least one more time, and, if she’ll let him, keep his promise.

One day, he thinks as his mind slips again into memories that now are only his. One day, when these one thousand lonely summers will be over, he will see her again.

[dreamyyang]

Amortentia — zhong chenle

[Summary: The strange scent that Chenle encountered during his Potions class led him to you. Good thing it wards off Wrackspurts.

Genre(s): fluff (apparently), Hogwarts!au, somewhat soulmate!au

Warning(s): this was my failed attempt at fluff

Author’s note: requested by 🎨 anon, I hope you like it 🥺💙. Also,, I miss purple haired Chenle.]

Professor Slughorn motioned for his students to leave their desks. The whole sixth year batch of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs formed a semicircle around the Potions Master. He gestured towards a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting one of the most alluring scents Chenle had ever inhaled: chocolate milk, treacle tart and one distinctive smell that he couldn’t place.

It was sweet and a little strong, but not too strong to be called perfume, nor too faint to be called lotion. It just smelled so natural. He could have sworn that he knew that scent. It was on the tip of his tongue, at the back of his brain. But he couldn't seem to put his finger on it.

"Alright then, who here can tell me the name of this potion?"

"That is Amortentia, sir," a girl answered. "The most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals. Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what attracts them."

"Correct," the Professor said, smiling and then turned to Chenle. "Tell me, Zhong, what does this smell like to you?"

"Um chocolate milk, treacle tart and another smell that I can’t really identify, sir. I-It seems very familiar though," He answered, faltering at the end. It felt too personal for him to share, no matter how simple the scents were.

"Aah, yes. It is quite common for young ones such as yourselves to not be sure of certain scents. And that, is in many cases, the scent of their beloved. Their soulmate. True, they may not have met the person yet, but they will still know this smell."

"So in a way, Amortentia could tell you who the object of your affections is, even before you know them?" Chenle wondered out loud.

"In a way, yes. Interesting observation, my boy.”

Jeongin, Chenle’s friend, frowned and raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Yang?”

“Sir, Chenle said that the smell was familiar to him, how do you explain that?”

The Potions Master grinned, “It means that Mr. Zhong has already encountered his soulmate. His olfactory senses picked up the smell and it was retained in his subconscious memory.”

The class carried on but Chenle felt as confused as ever. He nudged Jeongin, a frown settling on his features.

“What the hell did that mean?”

Jeongin mirrored the grin their professor had given Chenle earlier, “It means you’ve met your soulmate, dummy.”

Chenle didn’t even think about the Potions class until a week later. Him and his best friend, Jisung, were walking around Hogsmeade when the younger boy pulled him into Honeydukes.

There was a huge crowd and the two ended up getting separated. Chenle was looking around for Jisung when he suddenly caught a whiff of a strange scent. Though it was sweet there was an odd musky scent that made it stand out from the rest of the sweets in the shops. Realisation hit Chenle; it was his soulmate.

The purple haired boy immediately took off, barrelling towards the smell like a mad man. Angry shouts and curses were aimed at him as he pushed through the crowd of Hogwarts students and Hogsmeade villagers. He didn’t care at the moment, his unfiltered curiosity was compelling him to find the source of the strange smell.

The smell grew stronger as he ran towards a Ravenclaw student around his age. He immediately recognised them as Y/n Lovegood, older sibling of the girl who most people called Loony Luna. The Ravenclaw was wearing an odd, colourful pair of glasses that Chenle was sure he’d seen on their younger sister. They were engaged in a conversation with Huang Renjun, a seventh year Slytherin.

Chenle took in a deep breath, which was difficult considering how hard he was panting because of his run, and hesitantly tapped Y/n on the shoulder. When they turned around, Chenle felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

What was he supposed to say?

“You... The smell,” he said, still half-panting.

Y/n laughed, “My sister and I have been working on it for the past year, we call it Wrack Repellent. It keeps the Wrackspurts away.”

Chenle blinked. This was not how he’d expected the conversation to go but at least it wasn’t as awkward as he had feared.

“It smells nice,” he said with a soft smile.

Renjun looked at him as if he were crazy.

“You’re weird,” he stated. “I’m just going to leave you weirdos alone. Bye Y/n!”

The Ravenclaw waved at their friend before turning to Chenle, “Why are you panting?”

“I was running away from the Wrackspurts.”

“Why do I always do this to myself?” Chenle groaned, his head falling to the table.

Jisung and Y/n slid into the two seats on either side of him. After Hogsmeade, Chenle had been hanging out with Y/n a lot. And, as everyone knew, ChenJi was a package deal. As a result, the popular duo soon became a trio.

“What did you do this time?” Jisung asked, peering down at all the pieces of parchment on the table.

“Didn’t finish my Potions assignment. Due tomorrow,” Chenle mumbled against the parchment.

“What’s it about?”

“Amortentia and stuff,” Chenle groaned as he sat up. “I don’t feel like doing it.”

“I can help you, I just turned in the assignment myself,” Y/n offered.

Chenle’s eyes widened, “Oh Merlin, thank you!”

Jisung left the two of them to it, deciding that he had better things to do.

“Since the potion can help us remember a smell that was stored in your subconscious, it’s clearly very powerful... Wait frame it differently!”

Chenle sighed, “This is exhausting, maybe I should stop.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “You’ve written one paragraph, Chenle. One.”

“It was a tiring paragraph.”

“I—”

“Break time!” Chenle yelled, causing him to receive dirty looks from the other students in the library. The glares didn’t phase him and he only giggled.

Y/n sighed, “You are literally a dolphin, Lele.”

“A cute dolphin.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Whatever, the break is still on though.”

“Okay, but only for ten minutes and we’re staying in the library.”

Chenle grinned widely, “You’re the best, Y/n.”

“Don’t let Jisung hear you say that.”

The conversation progressed till it took a full circle and came back to the love potion. Or, more importantly, the topic of soulmates.

“Dunno,” the Gryffindor shrugged. “Soulmates could be real but maybe they aren’t? How can you be sure?”

Y/n tilted their head, “Well, I want to believe that they’re real. Oh! I’m curious, what did Amortentia smell like to you?”

“You know, the stuff I usually like, chocolate, treacle tarts and... you-a-a random thing,” Chenle’s cheeks reddened when he realised what he was about to say.

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck but thankfully, Y/n didn’t seem to realise that he had faltered.

The Ravenclaw only smiled softly to themself, their eyes almost twinkling as she spoke, “Yeah, I smelt some great stuff too. I particularly liked my random one.”

Their voice seemed strongly suggestive as they spoke the last sentence and Chenle was sure that Y/n knew that they were soulmates.

“R-Really?”

“Yes. So do you like the smell of freesia, pumpkin and two drops of garlic oil?”

Chenle blinked, not understanding why they had suddenly asked a random question.

“Uh, I don’t know? I don’t think I’ve smelled a combination like that before.”

The Ravenclaw’s smile grew into a grin. “Well you know, it’s excellent for keeping Wrackspurts away.”

Chenle coughed; Y/n knew for sure. The grin they were giving him made him blush harder. He suddenly felt shy under their gaze and fumbled with his words.

“Oh- I see, well uh, that-that is-is very um... Yes, that’s—”

Y/n cut off his incoherent rambling, “By the way, next time, dye your hair a darker colour. Wouldn’t want my soulmate’s bright purple hair to attract those beasts.”

Chenle looked down, unsure of what to say.

“My soulmate is so cute,” Y/n cooed as they leaned over pinch his cheek.

“N-no you.”

[sirsparklepants]

Some Notes On The Smells Of Things

I have a really sensitive sense of smell (it's genetic), and what with all the supersoldiers, werewolves, and magically enhanced characters out there, I figured y'all might be interested in a quick and dirty guide to what it's actually like, having an enhanced sense of smell. I can only smell these things when I'm well within personal space range - hugging distance or a little outside - but their smells do exist to a regular human nose.

First of all, yes, as we all know, humans all have unique body scents. (This was useful for me primarily when I lived with someone whose laundry I could mix up with my own; I could pick out whose was whose before washing.) They're all sort of... variations on musk, though. Some are sharper, some are sweeter, some are deeper or darker, but when you get down to it we all smell like mammal. Generally, this scent doesn't begin to become unpleasant until after three or four days without washing, in a crowd, or if hard labor happened. The hard work sweat is distinctive and STRONG.

I can smell if you're on certain medications - some cold meds and certain antibiotics, mostly, but also occasionally a less common one that I can't identify but can definitely smell - because it's on your breath and you sweat it out. I love y'all but please god don't make me hug you if you're on Augmentin. I will have to pretend I'm not wishing for death. Hangovers smell gross as shit too but not as bad as drug detox.

A synthetic scent like in alcohol based perfume, or most shampoos and body washes, is way more likely to be completely overwhelming to my nose than a non-synthetic one. I don't know why. It's why I use mostly Lush beauty products and BPAL's oil perfumes. Although there's an exception for certain florals. Violets and gardenias are the two I can think off the top of my head; rose, lavender, ylang ylang, and jasmine are usually fine.

I can smell water from a ways off (distance depends on the wind) and tell you whether it's a pond, lake, stream, or the ocean, because they all smell distinctly differently.

I have never had food poisoning. I should have three or four different times, but I can smell (and taste) when a food is off enough to cause problems, so I don't eat it and I don't get sick. Meat and milk are the usual culprits but I can smell a spoiled vegetable too. I can tell you if you need to cook that chicken tonight if you want to keep it.

Feelings and shit! Fevers smell aggressively sweet with an undertone of "something isn't right". General sickness or sadness is bitter. Anxiety and stress smell like milk two days from going off. Fear smells like milk two days from literally curdling. Happiness smells like a very dark wheat bread baking. Arousal smells... almost acrid, a little airy. Like the "clean" smell of a laundry detergent but less aggressive.

Overwhelming smells = overwhelming headache, but you get good at managing it. I'll occasionally walk into a bar and then walk right back out because I can't deal with fifty people that smell like beer sweat and Horny that day.

The only smells that I find actively, overwhelmingly unpleasant: spoiled food, shit, detox or hangover sweat, ketosis (smells like acetone), certain medications. Otherwise it's just more or less concentration that makes them tolerable or not. Dog, blood, sweaty person, even vomit - sure, they're not pleasant, I'd rather smell coffee or cinnamon or baking bread, but as long as it's not literally all I can smell, I'll do okay with it. It's the synthetic scents that give me a headache for the most part. (Especially cleaning products. If I never again have to smell lemon cleaner I will get down on my knees and instantly devote myself to the deity who made it happen.)

[eurydicum]

from me to you — r.b [7]

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Popular! Reader

Category: fluff

Summary: Tonight is the night when you confess to Robin 

Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: This is best read on the website rather than the mobile app, the app flubs up the formatting of it all.

Tag list: @jdogjdyke , @lettersshapes , @marland56 , @silver-winter-wolf, @bandsandanimefreak , @ihavetwospleens , @retrogarden , @hogwartsrey , @kurt-nightcrawler , @g0lly

—

part six || part eight || buckley master list || series master list

     “Come meet me inside the school at 8,” 

    Robin murmured to herself in assurance once more, holding the letter in her hands. Though she didn’t want to admit it out loud, she was perfectly terrified to finally meet her admirer. Her heart was pounding in her chest — rapping in frantic beats. 

    She came into this meeting knowing the ultimate goal at the end of this all, but she was still uncertain with how everything would unfurl. It could be great, or it could not. Robin wanted this to be wonderful but knew that she could not always get what she wants. 

    Robin took a deep breath of faith, slowly walking up to the double doors of the school. She noticed that all the lights were on and that a little note card was there for her. Robin slowly picked it up, reading over the familiar handwriting of her admirer. 

    Hey Robin, 

    I thought you might enjoy a little more to this whole reveal ;) 

    I know you’re fond of little mysteries and clues, so directly follow this one and a few others to come and find me. 

    Go to where I left your first letter. 

    Robin folded the letter and pocketed in her jacket once again, pushing open the doors of the school. The halls were eerily quiet as only her footsteps and pounding heart filled the void. Normally, in such deserted circumstances, Robin would be freaked out in the slightest, but she was way too eager to allow for fear to come over her. 

    Eventually, Robin found herself in front of her locker. Floating directly in front of it was a home-made hot air balloon. She cooed at the cute little creation her admirer had set up for her, her hands lightly grazing over the blue fabric of the project. A little flat candle was situated underneath the fabric bag that acted as the ‘balloon’ of it. Inside its basket was a little letter. 

    Robin blew out the candle and allowed the air balloon to fall into her hands. The balloon became flaccid as she pulled the letter out from the basket. 

    Perfect! You found the first one! 

    Let me just say, this locker has never made me more anxious than anything else in the world. There have been so many moments of me standing in front of it and questioning whether or not I should leave the letter or not, and hopefully, I wasn’t wrong in following through will all of them. 

    But, there have been really great moments just sitting in front of it with you and chatting away the lunch or break period away. 

    Anyway, obviously, I’m not here so go to the room where Shakespeare comes to life. 

    “Where Shakespeare comes to life?” Robin hummed to herself in a twinge of confusion, placing the letter back into the basket as she debated where this could be. Quickly, it dawned on her. 

    With the hot air balloon in hand, Robin hastily made her way down the hallway toward the English 10 classroom. Once arriving at the door, she peered inside to see the room completely dark — save for the candle that powered the next hot air balloon. 

    She carefully stepped inside, the door creaking open as she walked over toward the balloon. It was far larger than the other one, almost twice the size of it, and it wasn’t actually floating like the previous one. 

    A book was placed inside the basket, which perhaps had been what was weighing down the hot air balloon. Robin blew out the candle and took hold of the basket, walking out of the classroom to get into the light. 

    Robin sat on the tile floor of the hallway, pulling out the book from the basket and tucking the smaller hot air balloon into the larger one. Her hands carefully grazed against the pages of the book, noticing that this was the book that her class finished two months ago. 

    She checked out the sides of the book, noticing numerous post-it-notes sticking out from the sides and folded pages. The typical good English student book. Robin opened up the front cover of the book. Inside the page of the paperback, there was faded pencil writing alongside the main passage. First and foremost, she read over the main passage. 

    I think this might out me before you actually see me, but who’s to say? 

    You don’t believe in anything until you see it. 

    I’d say one of the most terrifying moments (apart from this) was spent with you in this classroom so many months ago, but I’m glad I pulled through with it. Without that day, I probably would’ve never gotten to know you better. 

    Go to the room that smells oddly of perfume and smoke next. 

    Robin’s eyes flickered back over to the faded writing in the top corner. She squinted her eyes, bringing the book closer to her face in the hopes of being able to read the faint section. 

    “32?” Was the only intelligible part of the erased writing. Robin pursed her lips together, her mind clouding and unable to remember where she recognized this from. Although, the writing was far too faded for her to actually identify the words or handwriting. 

    She leaned her head against the wall of the hallway, her mind trying to juggle two different thoughts at once. 

    Who did I get to know more through English? 

    What smelled of perfume and smoke?

    Robin got to know you, Tammy, Carol, and a few other straggling names and faces. But she couldn’t pin-point which girl it could be. Nevertheless, she brushed off the thought — no need to figure it out when her admirer was perhaps feet away from her. Robin sat there and lulled, attempting to think of where her next clue would be. 

    “Perfume and smoke?” Robin muttered to herself as she stood up from the ground, picking up the book and two air balloons with her. She lugged slowly down the hallway as she continued to think. After a slow minute of thinking, she finally realized where the next balloon would be. 

    Robin found herself sprinting toward the women’s bathroom, throwing open the door to see the hot air balloon floating over she sink. She heavily sighed with relief and excitement, holding the door open with one hand and yoinking the air balloon out of there. 

    The letter was soon opened by her hands and a rather short note was written inside. 

    Okay if I talk about this one I’d totally out myself, so we’ll ignore it for now.

    Anyhow, I’ve never been here before, but go where the music is at its loudest. 

    “Okay, band room,” Robin confirmed aloud, continuing down the hallway to head downstairs to the underground level of the school. She took this leisure time to think for a little while as she strolled down the corridors and down the steps. 

How should I react when I finally meet her? 

    Robin wasn’t sure of whether or not she’d be pleased to find out the identity of her admirer. Some mysteries are best left undiscovered, but should this be one of them?

     Was she pretty? Was she kind? Was she quirky? Or witty?

    She wanted to know for the sake of ending the mystery of it all, but she was utterly terrified for the worst outcome. It was very possible that her admirer was a right on creep, but her way with words seemed to speak otherwise. And it was made evident in the letters that she definitely knew this mystery girl, but which one of her friends or acquaintances could it be?

    Robin paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the next hot air balloon with a tinge of doubt. For a moment, she wanted to go back and leave the mystery a mystery. But, her stubbornness and swimming in too deep kept her from doing so. 

    She less enthusiastically blew out the candle and open the letter, solemnly reading over the letter. 

    I’ve never actually been down here before, but when I came down here to leave this … wow. All the instruments I could see through the glass are so pretty and beautifully polished. 

    You know, I’ve never heard you play before, but I’d absolutely love to. I’m sure you’re amazing, especially after a decade of playing. 

    If you’ll have me, I’ll show up at your guys’ next marching band performance and cheer you on :) 

    Find my next letter where it’s red and some of the most beautiful of art is produced. 

    Robin smiled softly at this, feeling ever the slightest bit more relaxed from her previous doubts. Already with this little letter alone, she could tell that her admirer definitely had care behind her, but that didn’t exactly convince her. 

    She traced her thumb over the parchment before folding the letter back up again. Robin threw her caution and suspect to the wind, prodding onward with her little scavenger hunt. 

    Initially, Robin thought the next clue would be in the art room, but that place certainly was not ‘red’. Therefore, it singled out the developing room Jonathan had mentioned here and there. 

    Robin couldn’t quite remember where it was located and spent a few minutes trying to find the goddamn room. She frantically looked up and down the hallways, scrambling about to just find the next letter.

    Eventually, she found the exact room she was on the hunt for — thank God. She flickered on the red light and stepped into the room, noticing the air balloon at the very end of the room. 

    Robin reached for the photo in the basket, smiling softly at the photograph of a robin. She remembered getting a similar photograph from her admirer not so long ago, and every single one of those pictures were strung up on her room’s wall.

    Robin flipped over to see the backside of the photo, reading over the small print written in permanent marker. 

    Robins are cute, but you’re the cutest 

    Sorry for being cheesy, I’m lame sorry- 

    Anyway, I really hope you ended up keeping the photo I developed for you. Once you find out who I am, give big thanks to Jonathan for putting up with my pathetic ass since he helped me develop these photos.

    No worries, I’m sure you’re secretive about your sexuality as I am. Jonathan doesn’t know about my crush on you hehe 

    You’re almost there to finding me :) 

    Go where you received your first physical present from me. 

    Robin instantaneously made her way to the library. As she made her way closer to the library, she could hear familiar music playing from inside. Her hands pushed open, believing that she’d finally find the identity of her admirer. 

    However, the moment she stepped inside, all she was met with was another hot air balloon. Robin sighed heavily, running her hand through her hair. She blew out the candle and allowed the air balloon to fall onto Mrs. Hudson’s desk. 

    Robin simply looked at the letter sitting inside the basket, almost too frightened to actually hold the letter. She already instinctively knew that this would be the last air balloon and that she was moments away from meeting the girl behind the letters.

    “It’s gonna be now or never,” 

    This is the second to last letter for you, I’ll keep this one brief so as to just pour everything out on the last letter before you come find me. 

    Find the book that matches the one I recently gave you. 

    Robin began walking around the shelves, fingers gracing over the spines until she found the exact one she had been looking for. She pulled it out, seeing the edge of a letter poking out. 

    Robin returned the book but kept the letter. Her name was so elegantly written on the front, exactly as it had been with the first letter. Shakily, she peeled off the last wax seal and pocketed it — as she always did. 

    For the last time, she hesitated to open it. Robin held her breath as she began to unfold the letter, the familiar fragrance of roses hitting her senses. She smiled sadly at the familiarity of it all and finally opened the letter to its fullest. 

    Dear Robin, 

    I thought it was appropriate for this letter to be the only formal one of mine. It’s been a long seven months of feeling such a romantic interest in you, and I’m really sorry for not being able to find it in myself to confess sooner. Here I am now, though — thankfully. 

    I’ve found myself having a physical attraction to you at first, and finding all your quips and quirks to be so endearing and cute. But all of that came from a naive person who didn’t know a damn thing about you. 

    Now, here we are (seven months later), and we’re closer than I could have ever dreamed. Not only has my adoration grown, but I’ve learned more about you and gotten to actually know you.

    I know that going into this friendship you warned me that I wouldn’t like you if I knew who you really are, and you were right. I love you for who you are, and for owning up everything about you. You wore your personality on your sleeve, and you only managed to draw me in more rather than repel me away. 

    Robin Buckley, I’m absolutely smitten for you and this I’m sure. 

    If you’ll have me, find me where the sun both touches first and touches last. I’ll see you soon. 

    Yours Truly. ♡

    Robin carefully closed up the letter and stepped further into the library, catching sight of the hidden steps that led up to the rooftop. Her heart pounded in her chest harder than before, and she felt dizzy with fear that her steps felt long and heavy. 

    From above, you heard the steps coming up behind you. Your hands balled tightly to your sides. You wanted to collapse from the frightening factor alone. This could entirely break your friendship — whether it be good or bad. 

    “[Y/N]?” Robin’s voice broke the silence and you felt the world pause. You turned around to her, seeing her shocked expression. All the hot air balloons and book she held fell to the ground in a moment of shock. 

    In her eyes, she saw you standing in the darkness, but lit up by gorgeous fairy lights that lined the rooftop and filled the sky. At that moment, you were absolutely beautiful and evangelical, and she couldn’t have imagined a better act of confession.

    Both of you approached one another, silent and steady with your strides. You met in the center, a good foot away from one another. Robin held her breath, afraid to say a word. You exhaled softly, smiling shyly. 

    “Robin, I really like you,” You firmly said. Robin’s bright smile had been her simple reaction, and she reached forward to hold your hands. 

    “[Y/N],” Robin murmured softly, tracing the backs of your hands with her thumbs. Her smile fled for a moment, unsure of how to phrase this in a way that wouldn’t hurt you. 

    Robin really liked you. She also appreciated how far you’ve come in confidence, from being sure of your sexuality to your liking of her. She recognized that you were jumping hurdles and risking so much with just this confession alone — not to mention having to sneak around getting her those little presents and notes just for the sake of leaving her something sweet. 

    You both grew from being total strangers to being really close friends. From the moment that you defended her from Carol and defied your friends, she knew that you were someone different — someone special. 

    Since the beginning, she could tell that you were putting in the effort to be kind to not only her but her friends too. With that, she knew you were a good person and someone worthwhile. 

    “You’re wonderful,” Robin began, and she looked deeply into your eyes as she spoke. “And I really like you. I just, can’t … not yet,” She softly began. You felt your heart stop and your smile slowly fade, but you kept silent as you let her speak. 

    “I’ve been seduced by this secret admirer for months on end, and I’m glad it’s you,” Robin honestly confessed, her hands drawing from yours to instead cup your face. 

    “I just need a little more time before any dating can happen between us,” She began to explain. “I’ve only known you as a friend and known your letters as a whole other person,” Robin glanced away for a moment before exhaling sharply. Her hands departed from your face, but her gaze poured into you — shining with honesty and love. 

    “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t think you’re so damn cute, or if I said that you weren’t clever and creative,” Robin chuckled gently. “You’re exactly my type,” 

    “As I said, I just need a little more time to process everything and,” She paused for a moment. “I’m not ready to have a girlfriend yet, I barely understand myself. When I’m confident and ready, I will definitely go out with you and be a good girlfriend and everything,” Robin began to laugh sweetly, and her hands slowly slipped into her jacket pockets — feeling the texture of the wax seal in between her fingertips. 

    “I want to be good for you — hell, I want to be perfect for you,” Robin snickered lightly. “I know you probably think I’m already perfect so don’t hit me with that line,” She winked. 

    “Just give me the time to be good with myself so I can feel good with you too,” Robin finalized, curling some of her hair behind her ear as she patiently waited for your worded reaction. 

    “I totally get it,” You smiled, honestly relieved to hear her words. “You need your time and I’m not gonna push anything,” You agreed. 

    This moment between you was gentle and genuine, and you couldn’t ask for anything more. Truly, Robin liked you as well as you liked her. However, it was true that all of this was happening so quickly. You didn’t expect her to immediately jump into a relationship. You were glad that both of you would be taking everything slowly, but surely. 

    You couldn’t ask for anything better than this moment. 

    You reached for one of her hands, holding her so delicately. Your touch was so gentle and soft, treating her as she would shatter upon contact. 

    “Can I leave one kiss?” You asked shyly. She smiled at this, finding your caution and politeness absolutely adorable. 

    “Why not?” Robin shrugged with a little smile. You grinned and rose her hand to your lips — placing the faintest of kisses on the back. Your eyes flickered from her hand to her face, smiling small. 

    “I’ll wait for however long you need me to,”

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 14)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 6,000    

Section Content: fluff, flirting, angst, smut, PTSD, R-rated language, oral sex

~~~~~

Turns out being kidnapped and exsanguinated by a psycho is what totally puts me out of commission. Good to know what the breaking point is for future reference.

Julie sat under the covered patio. It was a bright, sunny day. The sky was that cornflower blue shade that she would have loved. Before. Everything now felt a little duller, muted. It was hard to explain, even to her therapist over their video sessions.

Co-workers called and left messages, wishing her well and begging her to come back to the bank as soon as she was able. When will I be able? Her fuse shortened more as each day ticked off the calendar. Comments she could usually keep in her head spilled out with ease. Talkative Wes had resorted to small waves when he spotted Julie in the yard or outside. The ill-temper and crankiness even wore on her long-suffering mother. Brigida had finally given up and headed back home yesterday. No amount of pasta was going to fix Giulia.

Her eyes narrowed, alone under the patio, inspecting the Impala parked in Dean’s driveway. Julie had even been bitchy to Baby’s owner over the past two weeks. There was no rhyme or reason to it. Any time he called or stopped by, the conversations were short and stilted. She wanted to be left alone. By everyone. Even the man of her dreams. Literally.

Out of everyone who had been blessed to experience her wrath, Dean had seemed the least unphased by it. He’d do his check-ins daily, leaving a voicemail if she didn’t pick up. A long string text conversation he’d been having with himself was more proof on her phone of his continuous efforts to reach out. The bad jokes didn’t stop in person, either, it turned out. Every time she ushered him out a door he’d spin around and flash her the smile that had curled her toes. Before.

The therapist defined what Julie was doing as emotional avoidance. She didn’t want reminders of what had happened, which was understandable and the way most people tried to cope after a traumatic event. Unfortunately, Dean was the very walking reminder of the event in question since he’d been the one to save her. Numbness was avoidance’s partner in crime. And, all the effort she was putting into circumventing everything was exhausting. No energy. No interest. She felt like a flat soda with a pitiful fizzle when you twisted the cap.

And then, there was the other thing gnawing at Julie. The other reason she’d been avoiding Dean. The thing that she hesitated to mention to her therapist until her second follow up session.

She’d dreamed of Dean while she was unconscious. No. Dreamed wasn’t really an accurate description. Because none of the dreams she’d ever had before compared to what she’d experienced.

I lived my life with Dean. For what felt like months.

That life was a technicolor masterpiece. A 70mm film on an IMAX screen. It was bright and vivid. Every frame, aspect of her Director’s cut only put this real life to shame; it was a grainy indie film at best. And most especially, Dean had been in almost every scene. Well, Dean but not really Dean. A perfect archetype had formed in her head of this man. He was loving, affectionate, caring, funny, understanding, thrilling, sexy, fulfilling, and made sure she orgasmed every goddamn time. And there had been many orgasms in that film. Definitely Rated M for Mature. How was she supposed to reconcile all of that with the actual man who had to have some damn flaw?

To be fair, he’d already given me way too much to build up in my head. It’s all his fault. Yeah, the man rescues me and it’s all his fault. Perfect sense there, Jules.

And, maybe even more important - she had felt absolutely no fear in that other life. She’d been safe with Dean. That was something she knew was an impossibility in the here and now. Kidnappers and psychos aside, there would always be that fear, deep down, that Julie wouldn’t be good enough for anyone to love. Not for very long, anyway, and especially not for forever. And especially not by Dean.

What was she supposed to do? Exposure to things that made her happy, or used to make her happy, was the therapist’s suggestion. Constant exposure. And, blocking Dean out of her life because of the possibility he might disappoint her? Would she really be alright with never knowing how things might turn out with him? Did she really never want to take a chance on love again? Was that a well-rounded life or living in constant defense mode? That was the question the therapist left her with at the end of their session that morning.

She sighed and stared at the computer screen after the call. Being clean made her happy, so she forced herself under the shower sprays and then dressed in a comfy pair of leggings and light sweater. Wavy long hair left loose to air dry after a quick comb through with a hair pick. A spritz of her favorite perfume filled her nose with a mix of fruity and floral scents. She decided some natural source of Vitamin D could only help. Grabbing a blueberry muffin, Julie wandered around in the yard munching away on the snack. The sun warmed her head and shoulders. She even tried not to scare Wes away and let him ramble about his garden.

So, now she sat, staring at Baby through her chain link fence. Thinking about her owner. The thoughts weren’t enough to bring her joy. Which is the craziest shit. All I had to do before was picture the man and… boom… ear to ear smile.

A ringing from her phone got her attention. Dean. She hesitated. The fear flooded into her veins and she was unable to push it away. Constant exposure. She swallowed. And answered.

“Julie?” The shock in his voice was obvious.

“Yeah.”

“I-I didn’t think you’d pick up. Was going to leave a knock knock joke on your voicemail.” He chuckled, hesitant.

She sighed. “Let’s hear it.”

Silence. Then, throat clearing. “Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Tank.”

“Tank who?”

“You’re welcome.”

She cringed. “That’s so bad. It’s almost good.” She could feel the right side of her lip twitch up in… Jesus, could it be a smile?

“I thought it was pretty good. How are you?”

The dreaded question. “I don’t know.”

“Hm. That’s good.”

“Good?” She felt her nose wrinkle up.

“Better than you saying fine when it’s obvious you aren’t. I mean, you always look…”

Julie cut him off. “You shouldn’t have to try and dig yourself out of a hole you didn’t create, Dean. This reaction I’ve been having... It’s all me.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “We all cope differently. I hit the bottle more than I should. I don’t suggest that by the way. I’m hardly the poster child for emotional stability.”

She laughed, surprising herself. She felt lighter in that moment.

“It’s nice to hear that, sweetheart.” His voice deepened, even more than she thought was possible, at the last word.

Her insides vibrated, like she was a guitar string he’d plucked at with his fingers. Those fingers, those hands. The things you’ve done to me with those hands. Well, not you, actually. Dammit, Jules! “I really like that nickname.” She confessed.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll try and use it more often, then.” He sighed. “You are, though. A sweetheart. Even when you’re bitchy.”

Julie chuckled. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m still on the fence about that one.” Movement in one of Dean’s windows got her attention. There he stood perfectly framed like a picture from the torso up. The filtering of the screen hazed up her view more than she liked. His gaze wandered over to the patio, landed on her, and surprise washed over his face. “You’re outside?”

She shrugged, staring at him as they continued to talk on the phone. “Figured I’d try and snap out of this funk.”

“But, you’re outside. The only time I’ve seen you out is when you’ve been spying on me.” She could still make out the smirk through the screen.

“My therapist has suggested doing things that make me happy.”

“Good advice.” He nodded, serious. “Hm.”

Julie watched him thinking.

“So, I’ve um, got to take care of something out back. You gonna be around for a bit?”

“Yes.” She dragged out the word.

“Good.” He ended the call and gave her a wink before disappearing.

She stared at the empty window. Out back. She inventoried both their lawns, which he’d mowed only yesterday. A frown formed and she berated herself for missing that show. Hey, being upset that I missed drooling over the man, in real life, is a good sign. A swipe of her phone’s screen had her reading through Dean’s incoherent messaging over the past few days. My hero. It sounded super corny even in her head. But it was true. She couldn’t deny it.

I’ve got you. You’re safe with me, Jules. She thought back to the night when they’d begun to explore each other. Before. The things he did to her body. The Real Dean. The naughty commands he eagerly followed and the sexual directives he’d wanted, but never got the chance to dole out. This man, who made her throb and ache, wanted to make her feel safe through all of it. Everything. Point, Real Dean.

A sound she identified as Dean’s front door closing broke her out of her heated reminiscing. His tall figure appeared, strolled over to Baby, and dropped a red bucket by one of her wheel rims. He rubbed his hands together and turned his back to where Julie was sitting. He crossed arms over his chest and inspected the car from hood to trunk with a slow, methodical stare. There was the tell tale squeak of Baby’s driver side door when he opened it.

Julie watched, a bit perplexed that he hadn’t even looked over to where she was sitting when he came out. It’s almost like he’s… Julie grinned and noted the way Dean leaned into the interior of the car. He widened his bowleg stance, then bent down so the denim hugged the curves of his perfect ass. She heard the key turn in the ignition. Baby’s stereo played a song from his extensive playlist at a respectable volume.

He stood up, closed the car door and stretched, arms raised high above his head. Only a flimsy white t-shirt covered his torso. And it was short enough that when he stretched and then scratched at his side, she got a nice long look at his muscled belly. He smiled to himself and walked into the shed. Julie’s eyes widened in revelation. He’s putting on a goddam show for me. Point, Real Dean.

“Hey, Julie.” She gasped at the unexpected interruption by Wes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She placed a hand to her cheek and felt the warmth. “Yeah. I’m good. No apology necessary.”

Wes nodded. “I was- I was wondering if Mamma might need another couple tomato plants for her garden. We bought way too many to plant and…” He placed a bedding tray with two starter plants left inside.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure she can do…”

“Mornin’ Wes.” Dean’s voice had them both turn in his direction. He gave Wes a salute, a neatly wrapped hose draped over his shoulder. Something about the scene felt very Deja Vu to Julie. Holy shit. This happened with Fake Dean. Except, I ended up helping him wash the car. There was water and suds and… Her mouth dried up. He made me cum in Baby’s backseat.

“Oh, hey, Dean. What’s goin’ on?” Wes waved.

Fucking tease. He’s really full on ignoring me.

“Great day to wash a car.” He offered a smile.

“It is.” Wes and his obliviousness to social cues kind of reminded her of Cas, now that she thought about it. The fact that Dean had not spoken to Julie didn’t even seem to register to him. Wes turned back to Julie. “Well, I’ll just leave these with you.”

Julie side-eyed Dean, now crouched down attaching the hose to the spigot by the side of the house. “Thanks. I’ll try not to kill them in the short amount of time they’re in my care.” She smiled.

Wes smiled and walked off. Samuel must have told him to make the visit short and sweet.

Dean raised up and wiped a palm on his ass, leaving a wet handprint on the light colored denim. He grabbed the nozzle and shot a steady stream of water in Baby’s direction. There was that beautiful profile, serious and down to business, soaking his precious car in sheets of water.

Julie smiled. I’ve died and gone to heaven.

After about thirty minutes of delightful torture, Dean’s intentional avoidance (of which the irony only irked Julie more), and the increasing summer heat, she’d had about enough. She couldn’t say what made her finally snap. Maybe it happened when his entire upper body ended up drenched. His shirt stuck and clung to his body in x-rated ways. Samuel would be all about judging this wet t-shirt contest. Maybe it happened when he sponged and sudsed all of Baby up with long, languid strokes. Bending and reaching, muscles and all his pretty parts on full display.

No. I’m pretty sure it happened when he lifted up his t-shirt to wipe his face and gave me the chance to see that chest of his.

Julie stood up and marched over to the fence, twisting her now dry hair with one hand and tossing it behind her shoulder. She waited, patient as she could, while Dean wiped off the last little bit of water from Baby’s rims. He took his time, knelt and focused on the task, and made her shine.

“Hey.” She threw the call out to him. But he didn’t hear her. Or at least pretended he didn’t. She tried again, a little louder. “Dean!” He stood up, opened the driver’s side door, then clicked off the music. The door clicked shut and he strolled over to the spigot. She sighed and tried one more time. “Hot stuff!”

He froze in mid-step at that. His neck cocked in her direction along with an eyebrow.

She grinned and crossed arms over her chest. “Do you have a second?”

Dean tilted his head and walked over. Her insides crumbled the closer he got. Sunshine glistened off his skin from the combination of water and sweat. He flashed her a smile. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if I could get your help with something.” She pursed her lips.

“Sure.” He rubbed his hands together. “What do you need?”

She pointed a thumb behind her. “In the house?”

He looked downright intrigued at the question. “Alright.” He cleared his throat and pried the wet shirt a few inches off his chest with both hands. “Give me, like, five minutes so I can clean up out here and get out of these…”

“Can’t wait.” She shook her head.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, sweetheart.” His hands tightened over the fence rail.

Julie anticipated his next move and stepped backward. She didn’t wait to see him hop over and quickstepped her body to the sliding door. The sound of him landing on the ground and his strides along the yard sped up her heart. The reaction wasn’t fear. She was… happy.      

She opened the door and stepped inside. “Julie.” The call of her name was hesitant. A turn caught him near the entryway. “I don’t want to track a whole bunch of mess into your clean house. Brigida would kill me.”

Thoughtful and sexy, with a side of self-preservation. Smart man. “Leave your shoes outside?” She offered and slipped out of her own flats, sweeping them out of the way with a bare foot. “You aren’t going to need them.”

Dean smirked. “I just don’t want to get in trouble later.” He toed off the sneakers and hopped up into the living room. The door slid shut.

“Does that mean you want to get in trouble now?”

He chuckled and marched closer. “Feeling better, I take it?”

“A little. You helped take my mind off certain things.”

“Good.” He held out an open palm.

She slid her fingers over the damp, pink skin and commented, “You’re all wet.”

“That’s my line.” She laughed at his retort. “And, I wanted to change. But, someone was insistent that they needed my help with... something.” Sock-covered toes curled into the area rug. His fingers threaded in between hers. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

Her breath hitched and the sobbing erupted out of nowhere, without warning.

Dean’s eyes widened. He pulled her forward, into his warm, wet embrace. She clutched at his back. “You’re okay now, Jules.” A soft and husky voice whispered through the kisses he placed on top of her head. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you like that again. Not while I’m around.”

“You can’t be around me 24/7.” She tossed out the fact when her breathing had normalized.

“Well, then, we give you some tools and tricks so you feel safer when I’m not. Little bit at a time. One step in front of the other, right?”

She shrugged into his arms and sniffled. “Dean?”

“That’s me.”

She smiled into the wet cotton. “There’s something else.”

“Okay.” There was that hesitancy in his voice again. She hadn’t remembered hearing that tone from his voice as often. Before.

The rumble and soft hiccups of breath from her mouth vibrated through the shirt to the warm skin. “I had every intention of having you... right here… in the middle of this living room… and, then…”

Those large hands circled along curves hidden under the thin sweater. The motion was soothing and arousing. “Then what?”

“Being this close to you... My body usually has a mind of its own and reacts in a very… pleasant way…”

“Mm-hmm.” He kissed her forehead.

“But, sometimes, now… there’s fear, too…”

His body tensed.

She held tight, feeling him pull away because of the statement. “No. No. It’s not you, or anything you’ve done.” Her lips tasted the cotton of his shirt, burrowing into his chest in defiance of his attempt to detach. “You were the only one that was there, that found me, when I was…” Her nails dragged down the fabric covering taut muscles. “If I ever ask you for the whole story, all that you saw, what you had to do to save me, would you tell me?”

The exhale from Dean over her head was drawn out, complicit. “If it was going to help you, yes.” She tapped his ass, innocent in the attempt and insistent on the need for a different answer. He whispered a comical gasp in surprise. “Hey now.”

“If I ask you, would you tell me? Regardless of how much you think you know what’s best for me, even more than I do? I already had ten years of that bullshit.” She pulled away to stare up at him. Needing to verify his words with the scales of truth hidden in fields of glowing grass. Those things he dared to convince others were merely eyes with the added cocky grin. “Would you tell me the truth just because I asked you to?”

His hands cupped her face. He smiled and searched every inch with his gaze. The eyes finally locked with hers. Her heart stumbled over a few beats. “Yes.”

“And will you tell me the truth, always, even without me having to ask?”

Fingers tightened their grip along her jawline. “Sweetheart, are you proposing to me?” He raised a brow, “Or, is this me proposing to you?”

Julie shook her head, fighting every cell in her body turning to jello at the charm and the words dripping from pompous, delectable, way too full of themselves lips. “Answer the question, Dean-ah.”

Dean’s voice and expression hitched back in surprise. “Did you just Brigida me?” She stomped a foot and he chuckled. “Yes, Julie.” The tone lost any jovial remnants. “I will always tell you the truth.”

Her heart lightened again.

Dean’s forehead pressed against hers. “Even if it hurts.” He sighed. “You enjoy the good stuff more when you go through pain to earn it. What I’ve come to learn, anyway.” Julie’s mouth tilted up, Dean’s mouth tilted down, their motions working in tandem like connected gears. She found his open lips, ready and willing to receive the something between lashing and adoration she was desperate to inflict.

Plump lips glided over hers. He moaned at the insistence of her tongue, licking and tasting the fleshy underside of his lips - those damn lips - along his teeth. Fingers hooked around the back of her neck and pulled her higher, elongating her frame. She lifted up onto tippy toes to maintain the glorious contact.

“Jules.” He groaned and peeled her mouth away with a soft tug at the base of her hairline. A small huff pushed through her open mouth. He licked his lips. “I’m super glad you want to try and work through this.” She smiled at his out of breath state. “Super glad.” He repeated and swiped the pad of a thumb along her bottom lip. “But, if it gets to be too much and you need to stop…”

“I’m not going to need to stop. I want to feel good with you.” She whispered.

A tiny whine escaped his throat. He dropped his brows. “Shit. Right now?”

She nodded.

He huffed but couldn’t hide his smile of anticipation. “Alright, sweetheart. But, you can’t order from the full Dean menu. Maybe just the Happy Meal. I’ve got to go and meet up with Cas and Jack in, like,” he glanced at his watch, “shit, in like a half hour.”

She shrugged. “Happy’s good. That usually comes with a toy, anyway.”

“Ah. So, I’m your toy now?” He clicked his teeth together, then licked her lips with a light stroke of his tongue. “First, it’s ‘hot stuff’.” Another lick. “Then, you’re spanking me.” A tiny shake of his head before another lick. “Now, I’m just some plaything.”

“I’d tell you to shut up... let me continue to objectify you... but I really do love that voice of yours.” Julie shot back between his licks.

His lips curled into a smile. “So, we doin’ this right here?” He nodded to the sliding doors and the open curtains. “Put on a little show for the neighbors?”

“Oh, I can’t put on as good a show like the one you gave me earlier.” Her heartbeat sped up.

“I doubt that. I’ve seen the previews.” He stepped backward and pulled at one hand. “Upstairs?” She nodded. He guided back to the bedroom. The door clicked closed. “So, where were we before?” He smirked. “Sit that cute ass on the bed.” He half-asked, half-commanded.

She did as told, tucking hands under the back of her thighs in wait. “I thought I was going to get to place an order.”

“If we had more time, sure.” He stalked toward her, pulling the damp shirt up and over his head. She swallowed and took in the bare skin of his chest, the ripples of muscle underneath. All of it in the glorious sunlight shafting through the windows. “But, if you want to feel good with me, right now, you’ll let me do what I’ve wanted to do since I first tasted your cobbler.” He leaned over her seated frame and captured her mouth in a heated kiss.

“Wait.” She moaned into his mouth. “Please.” Her hands pushed on his shoulders. He leaned up a little more at the silent direction.

She had to feel him, run her fingers over his arms, his chest. See how this Real Dean compared to the fake one she made up. She’d missed the many scars, one a sizable trench-like cut across his tummy. There were dimples and craters. Bullet holes? The hills and valleys were velvety and rough, steel and warmth. Alive and twitching under her fingers, there was even the slightest pudge and soft give to his midsection.  

Damn, I didn’t do him justice. He’s got a roadmap of the life he’s lived on his skin.

His breath hitched above her as she explored with touch. So many questions flooded her mind. She wasn’t surprised to see the tattoo above his heart, right under the left side of his neck. Her fingers circled over the fading black ink. Never would her imagination have come up with the design - a sun with flaming rays, a star in the center. Hands slid along his sides up and around to the rigid blades of his back. A long sigh left his mouth. His eyes crinkled down at her. “You’ve gotta lie back for what I want to do.”

She acquiesced and released. The fluffy comforter billowed in the receipt. She leaned up on her elbows. “What have you wanted to do?” she asked. He straightened his posture and  stepped back, unbuckled his belt, pulling it from the loops. The waistband of his jeans rode low over narrow hips when he unzipped. That sweet ass is the only thing keeping them on. Her gaze went lower. Shit. That hard-on might be helping, too. He cleared his throat and slid a palm along the denim over his lengthy excitement. Her mouth hung slack.

He took his time and stroked the fabric. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.” An exaggerated frown matched the one she felt herself making. “I know, little miss nose crinkle. But, you’ll make me lose my train of thought if you keep staring down there. I already don’t have as much time as I want to really enjoy this.” He stepped close again. One of his legs wedged between both of hers. Hands skirted over legging-clad thighs and pushed her sweater up to brush over her stomach. Fingers hooked under the band at her waist and began to peel fabric down past her hips. Her cheeks warmed, realizing he’d caught her panties as well.

“Dean…” she groaned and fell back, lifting her hips to assist. She placed the back of her hand on her forehead and stared up at the ceiling. Embarrassment pumped through her along with arousal.

“Gonna make you feel so good. Promise.” Smoke and honey coated his voice. His fingers skimmed over her bare ass as he continued to undress her. She closed her eyes, bit her lip. He guided her legs up with his tugs. A soft swish of the leggings confirmed he’d balled and tossed them somewhere not within easy reach. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Can’t act shy for me now.” His mouth pressed above her belly button. She gasped, opened her eyes and watched him snake his body over hers, kissing the sweater, eventually landing on her mouth again. His green eyes inventoried her face. “You like to watch me, right?”

She smiled and nodded.

“And I like it when you watch me.” He grinned and slid down. Her neck tilted to the side to track his descent. His chin grazed over her sweater and dipped into her belly button. “So, make sure you have a good view.” He licked his lips.

Holy shit. I mean, a girl can dream and imagine that a man as hot as this likes to… that whole oral fixation theory. It made for some great material to work with when I was unconscious and in LaLa Land. But, could he really? “You-” She started and lifted up on her elbows. Her mouth dried, and every ounce of liquid seemed to pool into her core. He was bent over, hovering inches above, and staring with great regard at her sex. On instinct her legs tried to shut, but they only managed to pinch around his sturdy, tree trunk thighs. His hands rubbed and soothed, prying her legs open.

“Relax.” He knelt next to the bedside, guided one leg over a shoulder. Warm fingers kneaded at the flesh of her thighs, edging closer to her pussy along with his mouth. He inhaled like he was identifying the subtle aromas in a glass of wine. “Damn, Jules. You smell good.” He smiled.

She was lightheaded. All of the blood was definitely traveling to one spot. “Are you telling me you really like doing this?”

He raised a brow. “You gotta be specific.”

She shook her head, swallowing the giggle of self-consciousness at the sight of him between her legs. “You like going down on women?”

A snarl twitched over his lips and she thought she heard him growl. His eyes closed as his nose buried into her brown curls, right above the slit. She snatched in breath at the feel of his tongue sliding along the edge of her folds. Slow and thorough as he licked. Holy shit. Licking me like an ice cream cone. He dipped inside and searched, nuzzling lower to the wetness he had created. “Hm.” He groaned. The vibrations skirting over her sex made her shiver.

Dean’s mouth worked Julie over. She became enthralled by the absolute bliss he was portraying. He was a damn good actor if he wasn’t enjoying it. There was no awkwardness or held breath. No need for constant reassurance that he was doing it right. No inner countdown working in his head to pay back whatever sexual act he thought she was owed in return. His closed lids showcased long, beautiful lashes. They fluttered open like butterfly wings when his name escaped her mouth. His bright green eyes, sparkling in the sunlight, locked onto her face. Gorgeous son of a bitch. He licked toward her clit. A warm forearm draped over her tummy. His palm pushed and maneuvered with gentle pressure so her lips literally opened up for him, like a blooming flower. He broke contact from her with his tongue. His gaze dropped. Now, a thumb and forefinger assisted, and even she could see hints of the pink, wet flesh of her walls and clit from her vantage. She was on absolute full fucking display. “Shit.” she whimpered.

He grinned. “You’re pretty everywhere, sweetheart.” The pad of his thumb brushed over her clit hood, peeling it back. She fell back and gasped. He blew on the sensitive collection of nerve endings. “I don’t have to ask you if it feels good. I can taste how good you feel.” Another gasp from Julie as the tip of his tongue delved down into the source of her wetness again. He spread the slick over her walls with a slow and languid lick. All the way up to her clit.

“Fuck, Dean.”

He hummed against her, then spoke. “Eyes on me, baby. You’re going to miss the show.”

She sighed, trying to lift herself up on forearms and biceps that quaked in response to every little thing he was doing. “You’re going to kill me.”

A large hand wrapped around the thigh draped over his shoulder. A deep chuckle rattled her insides. “I’m being gentle on you.”

“This is you being gentle?” She licked her lips, unconsciously mimicking him.

“You ready?” He grinned.

“No.” She shook her head. “But, don’t stop.”

“Famous last words.” He kissed her clit and her body arched up, or at least tried to under his palm and forceful restraint. “Need to hear you, watch you come undone.”

She moaned and nodded. His lips closed over the bud and began to suck with a steady, unyielding pressure. He gazed up, his cheeks hollowing at his ministrations. “Yes, Dean.” She whispered. Then his tongue got in on the action, licking the nub as he sucked. He was plucking some invisible nerve. Her entire body ticked and jerked. “Fuck.” Her voice whined and rose higher.

He moaned in approval, eyes never leaving her face. Narrowing lids encouraged her to let go. She bucked under him but he held her tight in place.

“Oh, God, Dean. I’m- I’m…”

He tore his mouth from her. “Are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Say it.” He groaned. Her eyes widened as he walked his fingers along her folds, felt him circle one into her juices, and slathered her clit with the wetness. His thumb took over the assault. “Come on, baby.”

The ticking was back. “I’m gonna cum for you.”

He worked her faster. Her body tensed. He was on literal fire, his body so warm against her. She struggled to stare at him. His face full of lust and primal need, urging her to the edge with that commanding voice. “Yeah, that’s it. I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum for me. Gonna lick you clean. Come on, baby. All of it. Just for me.”

She whined, one last time. “Fuck!” Her brain snapped into a million pieces and a rush of electricity thundered through her entire body.

He moaned and let her ride out the wave, no longer torturing her clit. She watched, shuddering through the tension as he lapped at her release. “Hm. Taste so fucking good.”

She shivered. The inevitable over sensitivity washed over her. He sensed it. Of course he fucking did. Drew back on his knees, rocked up to stand, and then tumbled beside her on the bed. She tried to catch her breath.

He waited, perching himself on an elbow to stare down. He smiled.

“Jesus.” She managed.

“You really needed that.” He placed a hand on her hip. “And, I really liked that.”

Another shiver. “You can’t be real.”

“I’m misdirecting you with all my charm and expertise.” He shrugged.

She turned into him. Her eyes wandered over his chest and down to his jeans. The flap of his open zipper revealed some curly golden brown hair. His erection looked ready to spring out of the denim with the slightest shift of his body. She smiled. “Did you go commando?”

“I was washing Baby.” Another shrug. “Didn’t think I’d be here, doing this.” His brows raised. “Not that I’m at all complaining.”

Her hand rested on the dip in his side right above his hip. His skin shivered. “You’re going to be complaining if you don’t let me take care of that.” She nodded to his lap.

He sighed. “No time, sweetheart.” He sat up and groaned.

“Of course there’s time.” She rose as well.

“I told you. Not for what I want to do.” His fingers traveled through her hair. He kissed her soft and sweet. She moaned at the taste of herself on his lips. He smirked into the kiss and let his tongue slide into her open mouth. He pulled away and kissed her forehead. “Next time I cum, it’s going to be inside you. And, I’m taking my fucking time.”

His matter of fact statement made her blush. “Okay.” she replied.

He stood up and inspected her, zipping up his jeans in obvious discomfort. “What are you doing the rest of today? Besides staying home and thinking way too much?”

Being under his gaze, lying half naked, heated her up again. An attempt at some modesty had her cross legs and tug the sweater over hips. She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“This is probably a very bad idea. But, did you want to come with me?”

“To see Cas and Jack?”

He nodded and found his t-shirt on the floor. When his head poked through the neck of the shirt, he continued. “Jack and Cas are on speaking terms again.” Julie pondered whether actually speaking to Cas was a real possibility. “We were going to go to the festival in the city to celebrate.”

“Do you mean the Italian festival? St. Anthony’s?”

He nodded. “That’s right around your old stomping grounds, isn’t it?”

“Yep. God, I haven’t gone to that in ages.”

He smiled. “So, come along. Like I said, I’ll probably regret it. What with Cas… but, you can see what I have to deal with on a regular basis.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

She smiled. Real Dean. All the fucking points.

Part 15

Series Page

[peacefulwriter88]

Part One: Carried Away in A Chariot

Steve Rogers X Reader WoC, Bucky X Reader WoC

Warnings: None

A/N: This will be in three parts and was inspired by Hades & Persephone Mood board. This occurs after the snap where I optimistically believing Steve survives but how he deals with the PTSD. Half of this, like always, is inspired by @geminimoonbeamx and the other has been on my mind after the Endgame trailer.

How do you kill a god?

You rob them of love and loyalty. They will be alone and unhappy, and eternity will seem like a punishment, but it is not death.

                        - Hera, Queen of the Gods

Disappointment hung over him like a cloud, followed him everywhere. Before it was just his psyche that was attacked by the darkness that loomed over him, promises of death that echoed in his subconscious when he slept; images that haunted his mind when he closed his eyes.

Now he carried it like a weight, burdened on his back as he sloppily navigated through the world. He had no desires anymore.

Life had given him the gift of death. To have to breathe it everyday, bear witness to its effect without the power to change the outcomes. He felt like a ferryman, responsible for the living souls of today with the  promised that he’d have to kiss them goodbye tomorrow. He was death on earth, walking in flesh form and he didn’t know how to console it

And yet he stayed.

No matter how much he fought, no matter whatever the evil was that he had to attack it was death that eluded him - not life. And when he had fixed all that had shifted wrong, turned dust back into bone and flesh, to rewind time and save the world from genocide he still remained.

And thus the disappointment lingered.

He was a walking god of the underworld.

“Perhaps you just need to get away?” Natasha had suggested one evening, walking down the cold narrow streets of New York that no longer held the same color. Now he only saw drab colors of black and blue that tarnished his eyesight, burdened his shoulders.

“Go where? I feel like I spent five years getting away. I’m tired of running. I’m tired.”

Natasha didn’t know the answer.

“Maybe you stop….stop being Captain America Steve. You don’t have to be the man that saves the world all the time.”

This time from Bucky who sat across from him in a coffee shop, the a cup of hot coffee cradling his vibranium and flesh arm as his eyes flickered around the cafe. Eight months after the snap and his friend was operating and functioning like nothing had ever occurred. Despite the explanations that Steve had to communicate with him and the others - how he and a few others had to watch his friend disappear in front of his own eyes - Bucky remembered nothing. Nor Sam or Tony or  T’challa or anyone. Instead, they jumped back into their roles head first, like nothing had ever been wrong.

It made Steve snap.

“Right. So I can sit her and broad more. No thank you.”

He looks out the window at the snow, blistery and wet and painting the streets with its evidence. He hated this time of year, hated when the cold weather moved from being nostalgic and romantic and just became a nuance. It was the kind of snow that was light and consistent, black residue sticking to the roads, splashing onto the concrete sidewalks and the annoyed New Yorker’s who were stuck walking to and from their destination in the wet coldness.

Bucky sighs, Steve knows he wants to tell him something but the bell in the cafe rings again, causes the super soldier to shift his eyes over to the door - to the line where you stood. Steve doesn’t have to look behind him to know that it's you - he can faintly smell your perfume of flora above the smell of milk and coffee. Can hear the soft sounds of Tchaikovsky blare from your headphones, the sound of you pulling off your mitts.

“You should just ask her out.” Steve says lowly and Bucky ducks his head, takes a sip of his coffee.

“No way Steve.”

Steve shrugs,

“Life’s too short to - “ he stops himself, chuckles. What did it matter - Bucky wasn’t going to ask you and Steve stopped caring enough to urge his friend.

“She’d never go for it.” Bucky echoes like he always does, low morose tone and all.

Steve picks up his coffee, takes a sip.

“Your loss.”

He doesn’t understand how one can love something so strongly and yet be annoyed by it. Humanity was wearing on him. Their laughter, their remorse, their desires and their laments. Sam moved out of the tower, decided to get an apartment in uptown and Steve only decided to move in after having to deal with his co-workers for a year after the snap.

They were tiresome.

Tony may have actually lost his fucking mind. Steve wouldn’t put it past the older man - isolated in space for weeks on the verge of starvation sounded like enough to make any one human break into two and Tony was always heavily affected by his emotions. Natasha stoically operated through the world like nothing had ever occurred and for some reason that annoyed him. Wanda walked around in depressive remorse - Vision was gone and gone for good. He didn’t’ know how to tell her that it was the consequence of power - to be given a gift and robbed of loved. Bucky was so love strung over you that it was the last straw for Steve - he had to get out.

Brooklyn wasn’t his Brooklyn so he claimed Astoria with Sam like his own.

It worked out nicely for the pair of them.

He still walked the 17 blocks to the coffee shop he liked to sit at, the black coffee perfectly bitter and warm - the residents not giving him any mind. The Captain America in their mind had died when he saved the world and the man that was operating was foreign to them. He was okay with that. It gave him silence, the refuge he needed.

He does this consecutively for weeks, winter changing into spring,  spring into autumn and autumn into winter. Goes through the motions, alone, a cup of coffee and pencil and pad in his possession that he never touches.

That’s before the shift.

It’s in April and it's cold outside though spring has already tried to combat the winter cold. Buds growing on trees, wind blowing dead grass away to make room for new.  He sits, like he always does in the cafe, alone. His phone lights up, a few texts from Bucky and Sam - a voicemail from Natasha but it doesn’t matter. He wants to draw again, wants the breath of inspiration that allows him to see things - people and humans beyond an ash colored lens but he’s frozen.

He looks over at the ivory paper of his sketch notebook, blank minus the charcoal pencil that laid on top of it and sighs, his hands itching to pick up the drawing device but knowing it was to no avail.

The bell of the cafe door rings, his ears pick up on it and he’s rewarded with your perfume again. Jasmine, it's intoxicating and sweet but he doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t look your way. In fact, he had no idea what you looked like. Identified you only by the sweet smell of your perfume - he hadn’t cared enough to look behind him the first time that Bucky had identified you and all the times after.

You were just background noise.

Except today your smell nears him, dangerously close, until he feels the warmth of your body emanating off of you and you hesitate before you clear your throat,

“Excuse me I don’t mean to interrupt but…..would you mind sharing the table?”

He looks up at you and is greeted with the sun.

Your smile is soft, friendly and your eyes are wide and dangerous, the dark pink tinge of your lipstick a contrast to the hue of your skin, brightens it. Your hair pulled up into a bun, hands holding a book and cup of tea safely.

“Or not. Its justs…...really crowded in here and I’d much rather share a table with you than the old man who is licking his lips at me.”

He stares at you, unable to find words but nods, shifts his notebook to make room for you.

“Thank you,” you move into the seat fluidly, delicately before you place your bag near your leg. A long sliver of pink silk slips out, a sliver of a ballet shoe that you tuck back into the bag before you open your book. “Promise I won’t bother you. Just here to read for a bit.”

And you don’t. He spends the hour watching you, probably borderline ass creepy as Bucky stares out at you and you’re none the wiser, head bent over your book as you sip your tea until it's gone. Then you gather your things, thank him for sharing the table and your gone.

Despite your absence, your smell lingers and he feels something stir in him. It's not until hours later, when he’s standing on his balcony in the safety of darkness that he realizes that its longing.

And that he wants to see you again.

You don’t show up to the cafe for three days and its three days enough that tells him to let you go. That no good come from his new interest. He was a broken man and you were life. Better not to drag you down in flames.

‘Besides, Bucky was in love with you’ he tells himself but he knows that he doesn’t care about that, not really. He had started drawing again. Vivid drawings of the events of the past, dark and treacherous and life like.

“Those are kinda freaky aren’t they Steve?” Sam had noted, looking over the large super soldiers frame one evening and drinking the vivid imagery of the death of  Thanos, noting the rest of the Avengers.

“It's what happened isn’t it?” Steve says lowly and Sam nods, walking away. The drawings were disturbing but at least his friend was drawing again. Sam was worried about Steve. He was different. Curt, abrasive, annoyed. Motivated by missions but not truly invested in the outcomes. He knew he was depressed - understood why. Sam understood that he had died - then come back none the wiser - and could understand that to experience the loss of friends where they couldn’t even remember may play a number on the psyche.

For Steve it was evolving into darkness.  

Steve is aware Sam is worried but doesn’t comment on it. Reads all the PTSD books Sam leaves around, occasionally chats with him but pretends that everything is fine. Knows it doesn’t convince Sam but honestly doesn’t care enough to put on the facade that he should. Instead, he escapes the cages of the indoors and greets spring.  The weather is bright, sunlight emerging and rain showers slowly becoming less frequent. He’s always had an infinity for Central Park but after the defeat of Thanos couldn’t stand the large, expansive area. Reminded him too much of how delicate the life balance was. Now, he liked to sit on benches for hours and watch birds emerge from their wooden sanctuaries and bunnies frolic in the budding grass - moms with babies in carriages and kids who giggle pleasantly as they run in child wonder.

When he’s done he goes to the cafe, orders his coffee, starts sketching. Shadows barely captured by light, fine details of the nightmares that haunt his mind.

“You’re drawing again,”

Your voice is sweet, your tone smooth as you ease through each syllable that slowly falls from your lips. He looks up at you, drinks in the book in hand and tea with a smile dancing on your face.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

He should say no, should leave and give you the table for yourself. But he finds himself smiling, the first time in what feels like years and it feels unfamiliar as he waves his inky hands across the table.

“Please.”

You both sit in silence,  you reading ‘A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires’ and him drawing, sipping on your beverages pleased to be in a moment where you can step away from your day to day nuances and focus on the small pleasures.

You both order three cups each, share a large coffee cake and are asked nicely by the owner to leave before you escape back into the reality of your worlds.

“It was nice seeing you again,” you say as you walk out in the fresh night air, grabbing your phone - your headphones. “Your drawings are nice. I’m glad you’ve found your….inner-voice again. So to speak”

He nods, smiles at you once more as he drinks in your frame in the waning light. The way the orange, rose and blue blend together, highlighting your silhouette, hair pulled back as your dark eyes glisten in the light. He should pull away, take this gift for what it is and be grateful for it.

But he’s hungry for you, likes the small flame you’ve ignited in his dark heart and he finds his voice to say as you turn to walk away,

“Wait!”

It takes you both off guard and you stop, raise a brow as you look at him.

“How do you feel about zoos?”

You are the light he doesn’t realize he needs. Draws your image for five days until he sees you next.

“Who’s the girl?”  Sam asks one night, Natasha and Wanda peeping into Steve’s studio as he move onto another canvas - onto you. Sam’s happy that Steve’s moved on from the dark images of his nightmares, unable to face them in the safety of the light and Wanda and Natasha want to know who’s inspired this new mood.

“You like her,” Wanda says curiously, her psychic brain reading his betrayed thoughts and it's the first time he’s heard her be so positive. That is, until his brain betrays him and she reads the dark secret of you, tsks disappointedly. “I won’t tell him but you should care. He is your friend.”

“Tell who what?” Natasha asks, following the European redhead who walks away from him, her disappointment obvious.

She never shares.

Instead allows him to meet up with you at Central Park, to watch happy emotions play over your face. You find positivity in everything. From the zoo animals to the families who walk by, to the rain that falls on the both of you as he grabs your hand and pulls you to shelter to the nearest tree he can find as you both leave the zoo.

“This isn't safe.” you say, the dress you were wearing sticking to you. A little pink number that reminds him of a time where he was younger and weaker, the red floral design highlighting your frame. He doesn’t care that he boldly drinks in your nipples that were puckering from the cold or that he could see your panties paint your ass. .

He wants to remember how it feels to touch another human again.

“What isn’t?” he says instead.

“Hiding under a tree. We could get electrocuted. You should know this Captain America.” you laugh, exaggerating his title and though it annoys him he can’t help but give an off handed smile.

There’s a flash of lightning, followed by a dark grumble of thunder that shakes the earth and causes you to jump naturally into his arms, gripping his thick biceps as you turn and look around. He takes the moment to drink in your vulnerable features, the softness of your cheek, the length of your eyelashes as they kiss your cheek. Your arms are strong, reminds him of your dancing physique and the strength that your body carries. When the thunder  passes, rain falling heaver you turn your face up to him. Your lips are plump from you biting them in fear and raindrops fall in disarray down your face greedily and he sighs.

Angels weeped of the inception of your beauty.

“I rebuke death it would seem so if you need safety, you’ll most likely find it in my arms.”

Its meant to be a joke but he knows he fails at the delivery - humor had never been one of his stronger characteristics. You watch him curiously, tilt your head curiously before you whisper,

“Death evades us for as long as we need to learn a lesson from living.”

He’s intrigued by your thoughts but distracted by the way your face has contorted, sadness etched in your faces beauty and he wants to bend down and kiss you while he whispers against your lips that it will be okay. Instead, you break away and look off into the distance,

“I know a bit about that. When the snap happened….I lost everyone and yet I remained. And when they returned -  it was as nothing changed. My mother knew nothing that had happened to me in eight months I had learned to mourn and accept her death. She cradles me still like a child despite the fact I’ve been on my own for ten years and she still doesn’t hear the secret I whisper out into the night. That I’ve blossomed into a woman long before she left and will continue to thrive long after she’s gone.”

Your hands are warm over his arms, even through the layer of his jacket and you blink back up at him and smile,

“You didn’t need to know that. Let’s make a run for it and grab a coffee. Its three and I haven’t had my fourth cup.”

You’re gone from his embrace long before he can mourn it. He stands in wonder  as he watches the way you spritely run through the rain, turning back and smiling at him, your dress dancing along your legs.

Like morning glories that raise their petals to the rays of sunlight he’s found himself drawn to you, needing your spirit to pull out his beauty.

He’s a different man. Still dark and brooding and withdrawn, but there’s something different about him. Bucky can't put his hand on it, watches his best friend operate with the same motions but there’s just something off. He was different. Gone most of the time and even when he was around he wasn’t there. Head buried in a new book or in his sketch pad or speaking lowly on the phone. Bucky’s found leftover ticket stubs to three ballets, had no idea that the romantic in Steve still lived and took him to such shows.  

“I think he’s dating someone.” Natasha finally admits out loud as her, Sam and Bucky lay out on the living room floor one evening, high and watching constellations dance above them from the safety of the tower.

“Steve doesn’t date.” Bucky mumbles, eyes half closed and Sam pauses, hesitates,

“I’d normally agree with you Bucky but…...I don’t know. I caught him ordering flowers and he’s always gone and he’s always drawing her, the mystery woman. I swear I found a stub to the ballet but Steve denies it.”

“Holy shit,” Natasha sits up and looks at them. “So have I!”

“Me too.” Bucky agrees, intertwining his fingers together as he closes his eyes.

It’s Sam who nods and shakes his head,

“Not to mention, he comes home smelling like jasmines. Has to be a girl a woman that’s marked her scent on him.”

Bucky pauses, can’t move. His brain racks back to you -the first time that he saw you. Your scent that had caught his attention in the cafe he and Steve had learned to love. It was an autumn day and you were wearing a flowy skirt, a knit sweater covering your tank top. Ballet shoes slipping out of your bag, listening to Chopin and reading the menu of the coffee shop as the sun hit your face perfectly. You smiled at the elderly couple that asked if they could go before you, not hesitating at all as you offered your spot. You had briefly looked at him, smiled, before returning your eyes back to the menu.

“It’s Jasmine,” Steve had said underneath his breath, blue eyes temporarily meeting Bucky’s before returning out of the window, into the busy streets of New York. Voicing the question that was already on Bucky’s mind.

“She smells like Jasmine.”

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[malodorousmalcontent]

Stereoplasm Review: Part 2

Hi everybody.

It's been a day. And i'm trying to make this day mildly less garbage, and keep on trucking, keepin' active, treating myself to nice things. I have taken myself out to a nice lunch. I have bought a big ol' steak to make for dinner. I am doing fun stuff. I might draw today. I might play Bad Bethesda Videogames today (you know which one i'm talking about). But, what I know for sure is that i'm writing part 2 of my Stereoplasm reviews today. Right here.

Right

now

So buckle up boys n' berries, i'll be reviewing Gone Gnome, Libatious Leprechaun, Green Gremlin, Scorpling, Lights Across the Sky, Kindling, Selasphorus Calliope, and Divine.

GONE GNOME (PERFUME OIL) || Top notes of cilantro and key lime rooted in fresh garden basil, english cucumber and melon blossom.

I've talked a lot about this one since I got this order, because it's made a pretty big impression on me. To put it simply: imagine walking into your local grocer, and walking up to the produce section. You look upon the fresh herbs, which have just been misted. Ultimately, you just... Take a fistful of them, indiscriminately, and just. Shove 'em straight onto your nose.

That's what this smells like.

This is the first herbaceous perfume that hasn't smelled dry and buzzy to me, and the first green perfume that hasn't, ultimately, left me uninterested in wearing it. It's smooth and fresh, very wetly green, with a hint of pepperiness, a hint of mintiness... It's lush, and delicate, and just. Good.

Looking at the notes, the the cilantro and the basil is definitely responsible for the smooth greens, the super-subtle pepperiness, I bet the mintiness is actually just the freshness of the basil - and I bet all that WET smell is coming from the cucumber, which is lovely. The key lime and the melon blossom come out more in the drydown, but they're both very subtle: the former just adds a little touch of citrusy zinginess, while the latter give the scent a very soft, smooth floral edge. And like.. That citrus is very realistic - like smelling the outside of a lime rather than its juices.

Wears lightly on me, and lasts about 3-4 hours before disappearing.

tl;dr: fresh, smooth, wet, exceptionally green herbs that, on the dry down, are joined by the barest hints of citrus peel and a soft floral.

RATING: 4.5/5. Solidly green perfumes aren't usually my ballgame - they're not bad, i'm just don't care about 'em too much - but this is definitely the best green perfume i've smelled.

--

LIBATIOUS LEPRECHAUN (PERFUME OIL) || Aged whiskey and oak reveal prickly pear, spicy ginger and feisty bergamot.

I couldn't quite figure out what this smelled like to me at first, but now I have it: green apple candy, like a jolly rancher or something. It's a really warm, lightly spiced scent with a candy-tart edge. Dries down to a smooth, kinda tangy smell. Makes me think of citrusy tea.

And, looking at the notes... Yep! They fit, easy to peg everything to everything. The warmth comes from the whiskey, the prickly pear smells like apple candy, the ginger gives it that spiced quality, and what it's drying down to is a smooth, mellow bergamot. It's nice! Not so complex that I can't pick out notes, but it still has a little depth. And, in general, it just... Smells good.

tl;dr: Tart green apple candy with a bit of booziness that dries down to a smooth, sweet bergamot.

RATING: 4/5.

--

GREEN GREMLIN (PERFUME OIL) || Juicy bamboo, slimy lychee skins, sour green apple cores and rustling tall dry grass.

I've tried this one on several times over several days at this point, and for some reason, my brain's having a hard time with it. I just keep expecting it to smell more complex, to dry down to something different than the notes immediately at the forefront, and when it doesn't, my brain just. Short-circuits. I have no fricken' idea why.

Anyways, this smells like fruit.

Specifically, it smells like tart green apple juice with something under it that gives the scent a bit of a bright, tropical twist. And... Reviewing this on a blind sniff, that's basically all I get, from beginning to end.

Looking at the notes: lychee skins n' apple cores. That's it. That Is The Scent. Primarily apple on me, with the lychee underneath giving that kinda tropical berry smell. I'm assuming the bamboo is contributing some wetness, thus the 'juice' quality to the scent. At no point do I get the grass.

This is one of Stereoplasm's scents that goes pretty light on me - I regularly have a hard time detecting it on my skin. No sillage on me. However, what I can smell, I smell for a good handful of hours.

tl;dr: Apple juice and bright, tropical lychee.

RATING: 3/5. It smells real good, but i'm a bit disappointed that it's got no lasting power on me and that I lose half the notes.

--

SCORPLING (PERFUME OIL) || Hopeful and bright young tulip stems, green cactus, sun dried leather, burnt ironwood and tall flowering lilac grass.

So, without looking at the notes, I feel like i'm smelling aloe vera. I don't even necessarily know if this is actually what aloe vera smells like, but the smell of this makes me think of it: very green, and very wet, and a little... Not medicinal, but it has that, 'I could slather this on me to make me feel better' smell. Weird to say, but this makes me think of the smell of like, unscented skincare products. A moisturizing gel. Smooth, seriously wet I am not kidding, maybe a little eensy weensy bit sharp.

Looking at the notes... Alright, the wetness and green-ness coming from the stems and cactus, definitely. If the tulip stems are supposed to have a floral quality to them, I don't really get it, and i'm guessing cactus probably smells kinda like aloe vera, since they're kinda, y'know... *Gestures vaguely*... Similar. Succulents and cacti and cacti and succulents. Anyways.

The leather's there, but it's VERY faint, like all these greens are just piled on top of it. It's more of a new leather note than a worn leather note, but it doesn't encroach new car interior territory, thankfully. I don't particularly get anything woody, let alone burnt wood - but my skin is notorious for minimizing wood notes - and the lilac grass might be supplying a slight indolic quality to the scent, but it's not strong.

When I first tried this on it was so light I could barely smell it, and now it's decidedly detectable on my wrist, but doesn't have much sillage.

tl;dr: SUPER wet light green smell on a subtle background of new leather.

RATING: 3/5. Nice, but doesn't interest me too much.

--

LIGHTS ACROSS THE SKY (PERFUME OIL) || Circles of sun-bleached wheat, twilight musk, English lavender and upturned fennel bulbs. Shaking saucers under steaming cups of Earl Grey sink into comforting vanilla cream.

So, I refuse to look at the notes yet, because I genuinely have no fricken' idea what's in this, and i'm gonna make a guess and see how close I get. Okay. Here we go

My guess on first whiff: Anise and Lavender. It's got a soft edge of kinda more herbal lavender, and that sort of earthy, gummy quality of anise, though it's not an overpowering anise... Which is good, 'cause I don't like anise. There might be something kinda... Fruity-orangey in there, too? But then again, I just ate a blood orange, so maybe i'm smelling orange juice from my fingers. Hm. It's very light, and if I had to make ooone more guess about what's in there, i'd think maybe ozone or petrichor.

And, looking at the notes - not anise, but fennel, which I hear smells very similar, aaand lavender! Not too bad. The orangey scent is probably bergamot from the earl grey note - why do I keep going 'oh, smells like smooth citrusy tea!' and still totally fail to identify it as bergamot? Anyways. I definitely pick up some well-blended vanilla, too - smooth and a little waxy, as some vanilla notes tend to smell to me. Now that I know the wheat note is there, too, I can detect it - but it's so subtle that if I hadn't known, I don't think I would've realized it was its own note. It kinda just gives the scent this slight cozy toastiness.

The way the notes in this blend makes it smell kinda like a creamsicle with a soft lavender edge. An... Earthy creamsicle, but a creamsicle nonetheless. I really like Stereoplasm's earl grey/bergamot note, dude. It smell so good.

Dries down to more just, soft creamy sweet orangey smell. Lasts for about 3 hours before it starts to fade, and wears pretty close to the skin.

tl;dr: a slightly earthy/gummy creamsicle scent that dries down to a not earthy/gummy creamsicle scent.

RATING: 4/5, because they managed to make a scent with fennel in it and I didn't dislike it. Also because I like creamsicles.

--

KINDLING (PERFUME OIL) || Sweet jasmine incense, sunset musk, fresh sativa and strawberry wine.

Caaan-died straaawberries! They smell-a so good!

But seriously, I know I keep going 'this smells like x flavor of jolly rancher' in my various reviews but this smells like a strawberry jolly rancher. Or, like--actually--it smells more like those strawberry candies that every grandmother has that are absolutely delicious and come in the wrapping paper that looks like a strawberry.

You know the one.

This is very sweet and smooth and bright. Young, since it's a VERY candied scent, but I wouldn't mind smelling like this 'cause it just smells so good.

It's hard to distinguish the other notes in this, because ultimately I think they're just blending so well that it comes out to that one, singular scent of Strawberry Candy. The sunset musk, I think, might be responsible for the other half of the candied formula, lending a sweet, warm creaminess, and the jasmine incense... There's a little bit of a floral edge, but it's hard to detect. I definitely don't get anything that smells like sativa.

This has HELLA throw. Even dry, i'm catching whiffs of it from a foot away every now and then. Wears nice and strong on my skin.

tl;dr: STRAWWBERRY CANDY WHY YOU SMELL-A SO GOOOOOD

RATING: 4.7/5. Verging on too young for me, but I really like it regardless.

--

SELASPHORUS CALLIOPE - HUMMINGBIRD (PERFUME OIL) || Foxglove Nectar, Honeysuckle and fresh maple leaves.

So, funny story with this one.

I took a whiff of it and was immediately hit with familiarity. It's very strongly floral - a rich white floral with a bit of a hard indolic edge to it and just a hint of sweetness - and I know that I know the scent, but god help me, I couldn't say why. I didn't bother looking up the notes - I just assumed it was the one I could remember, foxglove nectar, and wondered why the heck I would recognize that. I've never smelled foxglove.

I'm mentioning this to my sister - just that it smells very familiar - and she goes, 'doesn't that have honeysuckle in it?'

And I go, 'nooo.' I was, obviously, wrong.

I grew up around honeysuckle, but never really paid attention to what they smelled like - mostly, I thought about what their nectar tasted like. But now, here I am, smelling a honeysuckle note and recognizing it without even knowing what it is. I take it that's a pretty true note.

So, starting out, as stated before, this is strong, lush, true honeysuckle with a hard indolic edge. After about 20 minutes, I start picking up a green-ness from the maple leaf note; I'm so used to smelling dry or decaying leaf notes, so it's interesting smelling one that smells fresh and green. With continued wear, that indolic edge smooths out, and the scent becomes a light white floral on a fresh green background. It's very pretty, actually. A great springtime scent. I still have no idea what foxglove nectar smells like, or if i'm detecting it here.

It's pretty strong, and I can smell it from about 4 inches off my skin.

tl;dr: A strong, realistic honeysuckle note on a background of fresh, green maple leaves that smooths out on the drydown.

RATING: 5/5 for a fantastic honeysuckle note that can trigger my memory without me even realizing what it is i'm smelling.

--

DIVINE (PERFUME OIL) || Gooey cherry cake batter, burnt marzipan, fresh cinnamon leaf, orange zest, warm chai cream and roasted hazelnut.

Mmm this is delicious. At first, I get smooth, almost creamy hazelnut, but it fades sort of quickly in favor of a dark dry cherry note - and this is on a blind sniff. Like, I know hazelnut's in there, but if there's not cherry in this bad boy, i'll--i'll eat my hat.

There's something warm and... Almost woody to this? And a muskiness? If I had to make one more guess at what's in here, i'd say a gentle creamy coffee note, but that might be because I drink coffee with hazelnut creamer so i'm getting coffee vibes from that. Overall i'd describe this as dark, smooth, lightly foody-sweet, spiced and sultry. This smells like something a busty femme fatale sort of character would wear.

Looking at the notes, not a lick of wood, but hey there cherry cake batter. Don't have to eat any hats today. I'm pretty sure what's giving me the coffee vibes is a combination of the burnt marzipan giving the scent that sorta bitterness that coffee has, the chai cream, and of course the hazelnut. I'm pretty sure what I was reading as 'musk' was the warmth coming from the chai cream note, as I tend to associate musk with giving scents a sort of humidity. The cinnamon leaf might be what i'm reading as wood - smells planty and spicy and earthy without going too green. Doesn't go red-hot.

With all these strong foody notes, you'd think this would be overpowering, but it's really not - in fact, this goes pretty damn light on me, but that might be less the scent and more my skin chem. I don't have the greatest luck with Stereoplasm's scents wearing strongly on me - about a 50/50 chance - but i've seen them work out real well on my sister.

tl;dr: Warm, creamy, sweet and spicy hazelnut tea accompanied by a dark cherry note. Smooth, spicy and sultry.

RATING: 4/5. I super like this. It made me like a cherry note, which is impressive! But, docked a point for going pretty light on me.

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #360

“Chips, Chips, Chips”

[Notch] Comes around the corner of the house with a sleepy yawn- Why are you guys being so noisy out here? It's the middle of the night.

[CP] - Fuck off!

[Doc] Cp, as usual.

[MA] -Waves-

[Notch] Oh hey Ma.

[Doc] Actually... you could help maybe... Ma has a way to make Cp relax without sleeping and Lie might benefit from it as well....

[Notch] And he won't cooperate... because of couse he wouldn't

[Lie] - I just want chips...

[Karla] Ma? Could you handle two subjects at once?

[Notch] What kind of chips?

[MA] Hmm... -Bleps a little as he does the mental "math"- Ehhh... more or less yeah.

[Lie] - I don't know...  I just want some...

[Notch] Noted. Cp.... just... cooperate. You're slouching around like you haven't slept in months.

[CP] - I don't need any help!

[Notch] Very skeptical expression-

[Karla] We could always borrow some of the clowns special candies instead....

[CP] - Oh fuck no!  I'm not letting anything of LJ's near my child!

[Notch] Then- Gestures at Ma-

[Karla] It is a harmless thing.

[CP] - Fuck off!

[Lie] - I just want some chips...

[MA] -bounces a bit on his heels- We can get you chips if you and your mate agree to sit still for Just A Moment.

[Doc] Seconded.

[Lie] Very quickly snags CP with some vines-

[CP] - Fuck!

[MA] Perfect, now focus on my staff. -It. has a shard back on top again. When did that get there?-

[CP] - Fuck no

[MA] Oi, cockmunch. Your mate wants some chips, and the faster we do this, the faster she can have some chips! And you want her happy, right? -He twists his staff, and the shard atop it spins a bit-

[CP] Growls-

[MA] Just focus on it.

[CP] Flips MA off but settles a little as Lie leans against him-

[Karla] Is only giving him a sidelong glance. She's too much of a control freak to ever allow herself to be hypnotized.

[Doc] Watching curiously to see Ma's technique.

[Lie] - I just really want some chips...

[CP] - I know, you'll get them

[Blake] Got worried at how long it had been since Lie went outside and follows out as well. He sits on her foot, and thins his tail eagarly, looking around-

[MA] - goes through a warm up set, making sure that both, but mostly CP, are focusing on the top of his staff. It's a subtle thing that both start to feel a bit more loose. A bit relaxed and calm, and ever so slightly open to suggestions-

[Lie] Gently rubs Blake's head-

[Blake] Tail thump- happy pantpantpant-

[Doc] Little sleepy yawn-

[MA] You're going to start feeling Quite Relaxed in just a moment, and that's great for both of you. You could both use it. Maybe even, you'll consider taking a nap? -That suggestion is starting to sound very good to CP.-

[CP] Being himself however fights back mentally, the suggestions not taking as strong of a hold as they should-

[MA] Hm.. If that isn't on your mind, maybe you'll just Sit With Your Mate, hm? Relax with her for a while. After she gets her chips, of course.

[CP] Flips MA off- Fuck off you irritating little twerp

[Lie] - CP don't...

[Blake] Focuses on Ma and is near instantly mesmerized. His lips start moving in a distinctly un-doggy way, but there's no sound.

[Doc] Starts to purr-

[MA] I'm just trying to help your mate. You both could certainly use some sleep.

[Karla] Is watching Blake suspiciously-

-There's the faintest whispering of Insanity and the wolf whimpers in fear-

[CP] Becomes very alert and growls a little-

[Doc] Suddenly notices Blakes panicked expression- Didn't Dawn say he dumbed himself down on purpose?

[MA] -Head tilts a bit and lowers his staff some-

[Lie] - Yeah, she did

[Karla] I'll take him inside. He shouldn't be exposed to this- She grabs Blakes scruff and forces him upright.

[Blake] Follows her meekly with his tail between his legs-

[Lie] - CP...

[CP] - I know

-The whispering blows away with the breeze and the bad feeling fades-

[Doc] Looks after the wolf- Poor thing...

[CP] - Well you can blame that little fucker- Gestures towards MA

[Doc] He's only trying to help and Blake only came out here because Lie was out here. He really seems to dote on her.

[CP] - I don't fucking care.

[Lie] - CP don't. And Doc, Blake seems to like CP as well

[MA] -Bounces the shard off the top of his staff- I'm just doing what was asked. You're the one being melodramatic.

[CP] - You little fucker I will destroy you and feed you to your family!

[MA] -Bitterly- I bet they'd like that. -Shakes head a bit- Anyway!

[CP] - Shall we find out?- He growls as he stands summoning his sword

[Lie] In her tired, irritated, and craving state, she flicks her wrist at CP, catifying him- That's enough CP, come here

[Doc] Thats likely for the best anyway. Cats are naturally sleepy.

[CP] Angry noises-

[Doc] Lays hir tail fluff over his back. It's warm and very soft. - Come on Lie, you can sit on me.

[Lie] - But my chips...

[CP] Slips out from under Docs fluff-

[Doc] Now you're both being difficult.

[Notch] Sighs- if Cp could teach me to make portals I'd get them for you Lie.  

[Lie] - I can open a way for you...

[Notch] But I couldn't get back. Unless I want to be the weirdo carrying an angry cat into a convenience store.

[Lie] Picks CP up- Maybe BEN could go with you?

[Notch] shrugs- if you think he won't strand me I'm fine with that.

[Doc] People who smoke pot usually know where the best snacks can be bought too, right?

[Lie] - I dunno

[Notch] Smiles - Amsterdam is full of delicious things... You could stay a week and gain 20stone sampling the local cuisine.

[Lie] - Will somebody please just go get my chips?

[Doc] types to BEN- we've got a rather needy pregnant lady craving chips. Feel like going on a snack run? Notch is paying.

[Notch] Gonna leave more crumbs for that police officer huh?

[Doc] Why the hell not? - Xe points a claw at Notch- and don't bring a bunch of that nasty plastic packaging in here either!

[BEN] Takes a minute to respond- Sure, gimme a sec

[Notch] Alright! Alright! I'll take some containers! - he opens the creative and starts making room in his inventory and filling it with buckets and bowls-

[BEN] Flies in and lands, he's already pulled on a LoZ hoodie to hide himself in- So where are we going?

[Notch] Your call. My cards will work in the UK or US. I've a got a weird passport from Slender if anyone gives me shit.

[BEN] Shrugs- Alright, I don't care- He creates an opening

[Notch] Follows him out - so how's the wife and little one?

[Doc] There you go Lie. Markus will get your chips. Now will you please settle down before Cp explodes from stress?

[Lie] - Oh fine

[BEN] - Doing good, Hyrule doesn't talk much, but he's getting pretty big

[Notch] Aww, you should let him come over and play with Ashe Oak and Willow. I'm not even sure he's met Cn. Probably haven't seen Yaunfen in ages either. I think they're as big as they're gonna get. - he steps out into the night below a security camera behind a convenience store. - Ah good, I was hoping it would be dark. Easier to not be noticed with our- he pauses - not so human features...

[BEN] - Why do you think I have such a large hoodie? Hides my face pretty well. And Hyrule goes to play with the village kids a few times a week at least

[Notch] Yeah... but I'd think you'd want him to play with Endrea's kids since they can't touch... you know...?

[BEN] - Eh, the village works fine

[Notch] Quietly- it's not because they're human, is it?

[BEN] - What are you implying?

[Notch] Nothing, I'm just curious. I'm not sure how you feel about plain old people anyway. I mean, they were just prey to you for a long time right?

[BEN] - Well yeah, some of them might still be

[Notch] Shivers- Can I presume you mean that in a protective of your family way? Because that I absolutely understand.

[BEN] - Partially, but killing is also a part of what we are, you know CP has killed for fun even though according to the rest of you he doesn't need to anymore

[Notch] Looks down- Yeah... I know. But it's not just according to us. He wasn't always like that.

[BEN] - But it's also far too ingrained into him now

[Notch] For what it's worth, I hope you're wrong.

[BEN] - We'll see, now come on, we got some snacks to buy

[Notch] Nods a bit grimly- Experts first.

[BEN] Leads the way into the small store, it's fairly quiet with a bored looking cashier behind the counter and a few customer's milling about-

[Notch] Grabs a little basket and rolls it along.

[BEN] Heads for the aisle full of chips and looks at the different types- You'd know better than me what she'd like...

[Notch] Well... I actually don't know. She was just very insistent that she needed chips, pronto. And whatever I get, Doc can make more so it's probably best to get a bunch of different things.

[BEN] - Then let's start grabbing

-As BEN starts getting bags a woman turns the corner at the far end and starts making her way towards them-

[Notch] Reaches for stuff on the higher shelf and checks what BEN is getting so they don't get the same stuff twice.

[Woman] Scoffs at them, the smell of her perfume beginning to clog the aisle as she mutters something under her breath-

[Notch] Gets a snoot full of the smell and coughs explosively. Too much time on the server where smells are fewer has made him a tad sensitive. [Thankfully BEN must have been forced into the tub by Aven recently, or his eyes would be watering.] -Gah!

[Woman] - Excuse me!?

[Notch] Identifies her as the source of the smell and pinches his nose before coughing again-

[Woman] - You fucking retard, how dare you be so insulting!  And to be so in front of your child!?  I should call CPS on you!

[BEN] Very quietly snickering-

[Notch] Don't call someone a retard, especially... in front of my kid! Rude old hag. At least I don't smell like I bathed in cheap toilet spray!

[Woman] Goes red in the face- I'M CALLING THE COPS!

[BEN] Laughing just loud enough for Notch to hear-

[Woman] - And you must be a horrible parent!  Who let's their kid stay out this late and buys only junk food!?  I bet you live in a tiny, messy, cesspool of a box!

[Notch] Who's making a scene on camera here? It's not me. And we're getting snacks for a road trip at dawn, what's your excuse? Buying some sour wine to drink by yourself?

[Woman] - How dare you!

[Notch] How dare you lady? Mind your own business.

[Woman] Just starts screaming unintelligently at Notch-

[Notch] You make me wish I had a squirt bottle on me.

[BEN] Ducks his head a little as he uses his powers to make certain none of the woman's cards or phones will ever work again-

[Notch] Come on BEN, this is getting annoying. - Starts to walk away.

[Woman] - DON'T YOU WALK AWAY!

[Notch] Okay I'll skip. Get bent.

[BEN] Laughs again-

[Woman] Is left huffing in anger-

[Notch] Whispers to BEN- I grant that some people do really suck. I just want Cp to be doing it for a good reason. Not just randomly.

[BEN] - Don't worry, I've probably screwed up the entire rest of her year

[Notch] Huh?

[BEN] Explains what he did quietly as they approach the counter-

[Notch] Can't help but laugh- Oh dear....!

[Cashier] Just begins ringing their stuff up, not interested in having a conversation-

[Notch] Hopefully this will be good enough... We got nacho hot, ranch, bbq, plain, sour cream, pizza...? Pizza chips?!?! Yuck. With my luck those are the ones she'll want.

[BEN] Shrugs- What mom wants, she wants

[Notch] True that. - He pays for the pile of sacks and starts gathering them in one hand. - [at the clerk] sorry about the ruckus. People are so rude. You have a nice night, okay?

[Cashier] - Whatever, that bitch always starts stuff like that

[Notch] head shake- Then you have my pity as well.

[BEN] Tugs on Notch's shirt as the woman comes up towards the register-

[Notch] Gives her a sideways look- Not done yet? Don't you have a bridge to guard from billygoats someplace?

[Woman] - THAT'S IT!  I'M CALLING THE COPS!- She whips out her phone

[Notch] Gives her the faintest smug smile-

[BEN] Just starts grabbing bags-

[Notch] Waggles his eyebrows at the cashier like 'this is gonna be funny'

[Woman] Gets angrier as her phone doesn't work-

[Notch] See? Even your phone doesn't want to talk to you.

[BEN] - Can we go?  I'm getting tired

[Notch] Yeah come on, we've got one more little thing to do and we can split. - Heads out the door-

[BEN] - What else do we need to do?

[Notch] Take out the trash actually. Can you take me to my irl house? That's the least suspicious place to do it.

[BEN] Shrugs and makes a new opening-

[Notch] Scoots through and steps out of the big tv- Thank you. - He heads for the kitchen and starts emptying the chips bags out of the plastic sacks. - Doc will have a fit if I bring this stuff in as it is. Though it will result in several mystery items since we won't have the bags.

[BEN] - Do you have a pen?  We could mark each bowl with what type.  Or put a piece of paper on them

[Notch] Good point! I bet I have a sharpie on my desk. It's down the hall and on the first right if you want to grab it. - He's dumping chips into empty buckets and tucking the packaging under them for now on the counters.

[BEN] Goes down the hall, looking for the office.  Upon finding it he digs around until he finds a pen and brings it back, tossing it at Notch-

[Notch] Catches it deftly, - thank you. - The pen makes a satisfying squeaky noise as he writes on the buckets and stows them away. - And thanks for what you id back there too. I really don't want any contact with the police. Having that officer stalking me and my old staff is infuriating enough.

[BEN] - Hey, it's fun to cause mischief for awhile.  And any card of hers that gets near that phone or the other cards will be effected as well

[Notch] Laughs- Nice trick! I'm not opposed to mischief. But hey... I'm gonna be a granddad soon. - Strikes an unconvincing dignified pose- Gotta set a good example for the kiddles.

[BEN] - Pfft, like that will happen

[Notch] Lets out a bit of air- Well... At least I'm in better shape because of Cp, plus a mate and kids. I actually owe him quite a bit.

[BEN] - Yeah yeah, whatever.  Are we done here yet?

[Notch] Yeah, I'm done. Ready when you are. - He stuffs the bags into the trash can and waits for BEN.

[BEN] Makes another opening back to the server-

[Notch] reemerges and stands there adjusting for a moment. - I have so much stuff that needs to be copied...

[Doc] I already set up a double trunk. Just fill it up and I'll duplicate it all.

[Notch] On it-

[Lie] Is sitting next to Doc with CP resting lightly over her somewhat rounded belly, he's finally managed to start dozing-

[Doc] Okay, I got everything. -also directed at BEN- Good trip out?

[BEN] - Got to mess with a bitch

[Doc] Sounds about usual.

[Notch] She deserved it, it was pretty funny. Hey Lie? The queens chips are ready.

[Lie] - Gimme

[Notch] Shoves the trunk akwardly over to her- We got a bit of everything.

[Lie] Looks through and grabs some plain chips for now, quickly beginning to eat them while she keeps a hand on CP-

[Notch] Did he get some rest at least?

[CP] Irritated tail flick-

[Doc] As much as an angry cat can.

[Lie] - Sorry for making you go out for me...

[Notch] No big deal Lie.

[Doc] Is sorting through the inventory - It's cool Lie, now we have all these new snacks. I'll take Sam some copies too.

[Lie] Nods in understanding before accidentally grabbing a spicy one-

[BEN] Leaves, heading back towards his house-

[Doc] Is squinting at the array of buckets - Some of these are a bit hard to read though...

[Lie] Takes a bite and gets an immediate nope response- The hell is that one!?

[Notch] There was a sweet chili one. we really tried to get one of everything...

[Lie] - No spice please

[Doc] I'll make sure and mark that one.

[Lie] Goes for a different chip-

[Doc] Ooooh.... this one has cheese. I like it. - munches just a few chips -

[CP] Suddenly jumps up as Lie gasps.  He's standing up now, ears perked forwards in a very attentive manner as he looks at her belly-

[Notch] Did the baby startle you Cp?

[Doc] Also very attentive-

[Lie] - Notch, come here!

[Notch] Hurries over to her- What is it Lie?

[Lie] Grabs his hand and puts it on her belly, there's a faint little kick from inside.  That's what had made CP leap up so suddenly since it happened right under him-

[Notch] Makes the mushiest smile- Awwwwww tiny little bean kicking around.

[Doc] She griefed her daddy too. Ha!

[CP] Hisses at Doc, not amused-

[Doc] Happy chuckle-

[Notch] At least you know she's healthy Cp-

[Lie] - She's already getting so big...

[CP] Swats at Notch's hand-

[Notch] OOoooooow!

[Doc] Cp, come on!

[Lie] Gently pets CP- Hey, it's alright

[Notch] Cradles his bleeding hand-

[Doc] Pulls out a jar of paste and holds it out for Notch to take a bit-

[Notch] Thank you, that stings like a bitch.

[CP] Settles back down-

[Lie] Yawns-

[gemarahome]

Creative Home

Day 3 of my personal retreat was all about getting back to my creativity. When I was a kid, I used to draw, paint, and craft. I got supplies at Hobby Lobby and made a bunch of those feather pens from Clueless and sold them at school. I even took custom orders. I loved assembling little gift bags. When Victoria’s Secret used to have that zodiac line of perfumes, they had pens with perfume-scented ink - I was ALIVE finding my friends’ signs and putting them with love in their Christmas goody bags - that has carried through to adulthood in curating the ILLEST party favor bags for my daughters’ parties - and when I have the capacity, sending goody bags to friends for milestone birthdays. 

I lost the drawing/painting/crafting as I entered young adulthood but picked up writing in the form of blogging - and met several people who I consider close friends til this day. Then I lost that too. I picked up nature, landscape, and abstract/macro photography subconsciously, though I wouldn’t recognize it until years later. 

This past summer, I thought I wanted to make jewelry. I always have these very specific ideas of what I want in my head. I got a jewelry-making book and as I flipped through the pages of get these wires and those clips and deez crimps, I was like mm, no. This has been a “problem” (it’s not really a problem) with me and creative things - I typically have big ideas but I don’t like the execution, the making, the supplies, the process, the small things. I’m a curator and big idea generator by nature, and there is a place for curators; I just have to find my specific place.

After throwing the jewelry-making book to the flames, I took a few different “What kind of creator are you” quizzes (I love a quiz) and they all pointed to poetry/writer. That was odd to me because while I really do enjoy a good poem and creative literature, I’ve never been that kind of writer. Well what better time than #TheseTroublingTimes amirite. I found a writing prompt challenge, grabbed 1 of my approximately 970 billion unused journals (you know it’s hard to resist a pretty journal cover) and started writing. I got to Day 11 or so and was like, I don’t like this. So I literally wrote in the journal “This writing challenge has been helpful in identifying the types of writing I do and don’t like, and I don’t like this.” For posterity and record-keeping, and the anthropologists who unearth the journal 500 years later. I gave up on writing.

In the meantime, professional DJs and photographers had been telling me I had an ear for curating music and for photography. I started making little music vignettes on my Youtube channel of a theme or mood and songs that fit that and flow well with each other. It’s often 3-5 songs that really partner well together. That has been pretty rewarding and I’ll likely start posting on here. I wouldn’t mind a really niche DJ gig so when the world gets vaccinated, I’ll explore that further. I started saving my nature photography into a separate digital album. Then I finally took the leap and bought A Real Camera. It should be in the mail any day. I would eventually love to do photo art prints in different sizes and when I really advance my skills, get into mixed-media and mixed-medium art. For that part, my goal is to be in a museum one day. I’ve never spoken or typed that out loud. There it is. I’ll start with a photography Instagram page that will call back to a former blog title soon, and painting, stealing my daughters materials when I can.

You know I had to take a few What Kind of Photographer Are You quizzes and I kept getting street/fashion photography, which I’m not actually interested in. I had Glowing Color going for a while as a creative outlet, but monetizing it turned it into a burden for me. I probably will incorporate my eye for color into photography under the macro/abstract umbrella rather than people.

Another far-reaching dream I’ve never mentioned is I would love to get into voiceover or narration work in the future. Several trained and professional singers have told me they love my voice over the years and I often get told it’s soothing. I’ve shelved that in my mind in the Post Pandemic closet as well though.

Part of the reason I haven’t gotten to explore my creativity is I don’t feel like I have the set-up for it at home. That’s why a complete home overhaul was on my retreat agenda as well - I’ll save that for a separate post. I’m already so pleased with the space and knowing my daughters’ can easily access their arts and crafts will lessen the anxiety I get when it’s time to explore my own creativity. 

Anyhoo, I got the urge to blog the Food Manifesto post and quickly activated Tumblr and got the words out and then went to bed. A dear, explosively creative friend took the time to send me a voice note and tell me she didn’t realize how much she missed my writing and how I make mundane topics interesting, that I was a great storyteller, and so on. It blew me away. Maybe *this* is my writing lane. Non-linear narrative writing. I don’t know if that’s the proper term but it fits.

All of this to say, I can’t believe there was a time I thought the creativity within me was dead. I just had to give it a home.

[jafreitag]

2020

On January 1, 2020, I went to LNHQ. The holiday party had happened a few days earlier – a sorta-epic “booze cruise” with Lana Del Rey off the Catalina coast. Everybody nursed hangovers on flights back home, and then bugged off to celebrate their new years with their people.

The office was spotless – just a few dust motes floating across the afternoon sunlight in the conference room. I grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote “What if…” on the green board. It was intended as a turn-the-page talking point. OM and I had had a sit-down after we got back from Cali. Good talk, honestly. He’s well-versed in stuff that I do not understand, and he’s driving the proverbial bus as the new LN CEO. Lotta heartfelt questions from him, lotta heartfelt idks from me. “You gotta…” and “Yeah, I suck at that, but what about…” Some bourbon later, we adjourned. “Love you, dude” and “love you back, man.” Let’s meet next week and ok.

So that’s why I was there. What are we doing? What if… What if we actually try hard? What if ECM keeps killing it on Instagram? What if Jane and Trevor come back? What if we move to a new location, and the corporate and content wings find a new synergy? What if all of the sponsorships pan out? And O’s settlement with Adidas? Sky’s the limit, right? Let your imagination wander. I mean, what if Fiona Apple puts out a new album in 2020, and it’s not just great, but better than The Idler Wheel, which was the best album of 2012?

Seriously. What if?

Or what if the entire world breaks?

That wasn’t in my head back then.

It’s December now. And we’re in a global pandemic, which is getting worse (or at least not getting measurably better) every day. This year has been indescribably difficult for all of us, particularly the ones personally affected by Covid-19. And it has been difficult for businesses across every sector, particularly entertainment. Seen a show lately? Nope? Me, neither. At the beginning of the summer, I paid Laura Marling to watch a stream of her performance at Union Chapel in London. Seemed cool then, seems irrelevant now.

We can’t help artists/bands, really, until we can see them again. And who knows when that will be? Next summer? Next fall? Maybe 2022 before we all feel safe in massive crowds again (even with masks)? Maybe never? Until then, we have streaming services. And … woof. That’s an Apple/Spotify cart that I’d prefer not to upend, mainly because it benefits me, but it’s worth some words.

I’m a Spotify person. My home team is comprised of six Spotify people. We pay, collectively, $14.99/month to stream almost any music ever recorded and released. That’s around $2.50 per person per month. Pretty good deal, right? For sure. Here’s the problem: Spotify pays $0.003 per stream. That’s 1/3 of a penny. If you’re a Zeppelin or a Beatle or a Stone, that’s just a nice little dividend. (Keith is like, “Hey, baby, I love Spot-ify. I bought this sweet fedorah with that check.”) If you’re somebody else, somebody less established in the Rock-royalties pantheon, you’re probably not buying a hat. You’re probably hoping that Spotify might, might, pick up your next cup of coffee – or one at the end of the year, I don’t know how that works.

Spotify does this year-end Wrapped thing. You get a weird Snapchat/Instagram video that tells you stuff. Your most listened-to artist/band, your also-rans, etc. You also get some pretty sweet virtual (and unearned) affirmation.

My win was this.

911 seems good. It’s better than 11. The green-dotify didn’t specify whom those new artists were, which sucks, but I have a decent idea. And I’m guessing that many of those artists have Bandcamp pages, and I didn’t visit any of those. Actually, that’s not true. I did visit the Car Seat Headrest page because Will put out three different iterations of the new record on streaming, cd, and vinyl. It was mostly the same – alternate sequences and some alternate versions of certain tracks. The alternate versions weren’t on Bandcamp. You had to buy all three formats to get the whole record. Or you had to be ok with the iteration that you got. Or you could just find the alternate versions on YouTube. Sure, they wouldn’t be on your phone, but you got to hear them.

That’s not me being petty or cheap. I could’ve bought the cd and vinyl iterations. And I could’ve bought alot of music on Bandcamp, but I couldn’t have bought 911-new-artists worth. How many could I have bought? Not sure. How would I have decided? Not sure. I’m glad that I discovered that many sounds, and I’m concerned that most of those sounds were produced by real people struggling to create in this challenging (intentionally undersold the adjective there, but “terrible” and “horrible” seemed trite) environment. I’m more glad than concerned, if you follow the dichotomy. And I’m not happy about it. Having identified the problem, however, I’m flummoxed about a solution.

I listened to alot of music in 2020. #WFH #FTW (And two hashtag sentence fragments make a sentence. I just checked the LN style manual. Jane said ok.)

Alessandro Deljavan is an Italian pianist, who was born a few months before I graduated high school. He recorded Erik Satie’s piano works. My best friend and I listened to that alot this year – she calls it “sleeping music.” Miles Davis, obv. Early-covid, I made a chronologically-tight playlist of his pre-Columbia material. Mid-covid, I started a chronologically-tight and still-unfinished playlist of his fusion material. Jenny Lin? I think that’s a holdover from last year, when sleeping music was her Chopin’s Nocturnes. CSH was my lawnmowing soundtrack. Daniel Baremboim? No idea, maybe I hit his Mendelssohn’s Leider ohne Worte too many times during the days.

Minutes listened and top genre are what I want to talk about, real quick, before I get list-y. 115,891 minutes is 1,931 or so hours, and 80.5 or so days. I listened to two and a half months straight of music this year. That’s not a brag or even a humble brag. It’s a fact. And most of that (trust me here, I ran my ass off to playlists) was Indie Rock – the aforementioned “new artists.” How can I help them, besides streaming their amazing work over and over and over, and championing them here? Shouting indirectly at Spotify on social media seems unlikely to change a flawed system. Anybody with more constructive ideas can share them below the line.

Ok, the list.

I did it. I broke the unspoken rule (nobody gets #1 twice), and I’m ok with it. 2020 was a unique year. Up top, that’s Fiona from a Zoom call over the summer. She didn’t really know about Liner Notes, but she was willing to talk while walking her dogs. I wasn’t sure that Fetch the Bolt Cutters would be the album of the year at that point, but it was a nice chat. Tbh, I struggled to finalize the list because any of the Top 10 could’ve been Top. The margins were very fine. (And fwiw, I may tweak things a bit over the next few weeks.) Links to Spotify. And COME ON, Spotify. Pay artists more, and pay indie artists even more than that.

Fiona Apple – Fetch the Bolt Cutters

Phoebe Bridgers – Punisher

Waxahatchee – Saint Cloud

This Is the Kit – Off Off On

HAIM – Women in Music Pt. III

En Attendant Ana – Juillet

Samia – The Baby

Kelly Lee Owens – Inner Song

Adrianne Lenker – songs / instrumentals

Porridge Radio – Every Bad

SAULT – Untitled (Black Is) / Untitled (Rise)

Taylor Swift – folklore / evermore

The 1975 – Notes On A Conditional Form

Car Seat Headrest – Making a Door Less Open

Perfume Genius – Set My Heart on Fire Immediately

Lomelda – Hannah

Fleet Foxes – Shore

Soccer Mommy – color theory

Beach Bunny – Honeymoon

Retirement Party – Runaway Dog

Shopping – All or Nothing

Ela Minus – acts of rebellion

The Strokes – The New Abnormal

Fontaines D.C. – A Hero’s Death

Kate NV – Room for the Moon

Dehd – Flower of Devotion

Gum County – Somewhere

Bad Moves – Untenable

Jeff Tweedy – Love Is the King

Laura Marling – Song for Our Daughter

Autechre – SIGN

Four Tet – Sixteen Oceans

Sorry – 925

Dream Wife – So When You Gonna…

Fenne Lily – BREACH

Margaret Glaspy – Devotion

Jordana – Something to Say to You

Hinds – The Prettiest Curse

Gorillaz – Song Machine: Season One

Tame Impala – The Slow Rush

Tycho – Simulcast

Ólafur Arnalds – some kind of peace

Ezra Feinberg – Recumbent Speech

Slow Pulp – Moveys

Young Jesus – Welcome to Conceptual Beach

Bartees Strange – Live Forever

U.S. Girls – Heavy Light

Empress Of – I’m You’re Empress Of

Charli XCX – how i’m feeling now

Oliver Coates – skins n slime

LN is on hiatus for a little while.

More soon.

JF

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[sebbybooks]

Wildflowers

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

Warnings: Smut, Language

🌻 Tagged for Updates🌻 @seargantbcky @deanmonslittleangel @psychicwitchphilosopher @buckyappreciationsociety @bunchofandoms @crystallimythium @multifandomluv7

“Their lips brushed like young wildflowers in the wind.” -F.F

My mother stood behind me tying and untying a belt around my waist for five consecutive minutes now. I had been trying on dresses for a good half of the evening. After the eleventh dress she made me try on I decided not to detest it anymore. I wasn’t going to interrupt her with my subjective opinions and mild critiques. Even though I didn’t care about what pattern or color best suited me I knew she did. Plus all of this was for her birthday party for tomorrow night so I let her have her way. Besides my mind was elsewhere.

“I think it looks so much better without it. What do you think?” My mother said as she stood back to get a better view of the dress I already had on. Considering my perspective since I was not standing in front of a full length mirror or any mirror for that matter. When I looked down I noticed the dress fell all the way down to my feet covering them completely. The light weight sheer fabric draped around me like waterfalls. I wasn’t too keen on the color it was a reminiscent of blush colored pink roses. An as for the straps I continuously pulled them up further to my shoulders, the V neck cut was far too low.

“Caroline?” She called for my attention again. I snapped out of my inner monologue and told her how I felt about the dress.

“It’s perfect.” I smiled to try and make it more convincing but I didn’t want to overdo my false affections.

“I knew this would be the one!” She grabbed ahold of my waist cinching it in tighter around me. I looked onward returning my gaze back out of the window. I couldn’t stop thinking about what just happened not long ago. Even if I tried I couldn’t get the images of him out of my head and the sensation from feeling him everywhere still hasn’t expired. For some reason tonight it felt like I was looking at a completely different garden.

Outside the sun had already set leaving the sky cloudless. Quickly almost like a time lapse it grew darker. Automatically the lights out back turned on. The tiny little lights along the lavender filled walkway illuminated the stepping stones, that we hazily stumbled upon last night. Our laughter could quite possibly be heard indoors. Even though we thought we were no louder than a whisper. The two of us tried to keep our barefooted feet off of the wet manicured grass. How we ended up out of our shoes is still a mystery to me. I just know for a fact I have a tiny cut on the back of my ankle from scraping it when he kept me balanced on his shoulders when I was trying to pick a lemon from the lemon trees above our heads. I’m pretty sure I would have landed in a row of sculpted hedges if he hadn’t of caught me in time.

“Last night was certainly something else!” I could hear my mother’s voice but I couldn’t identify where it was coming from. I turned my view away from the window almost a little weary of what she was referring to exactly. Once she stepped back into her bedroom from the hallway I stood still in the center of the floor looking puzzled.

“The wine tasting that was hosted here.” She said, refreshing my memory of how my rendezvous initiated. I stayed motionless as I watched her hang clothes back into her closet before she pointed out I had been smiling to myself off and on all night.

“So are you going to tell me what the F word happened last night or am I going to have to guess?” She smirked.

“No way! Besides I did nothing you wouldn’t have done.” I said to her taking both hands behind my back to unzip myself out of the dress. I walked into the bathroom where my jeans and top was lying on the bathroom floor.

I picked up my blouse with ease holding it between the palm of my hands like it was a found treasure. My fingers felt around for the tiny hole punctured at the top from when it ripped against a nestle of thorns. He stood in front of me when he noticed it first. He placed his hand above my shoulder and over the hole between the fabric he smoothed over my skin with his thumb. I remember finding his touch satisfyingly calming. I wanted to have that same feeling replicated all over my body. Without giving it much thought I crossed my arms reaching for the hem of my top and pulled it over my head. Our eyes fixated on one another, both not wanting to turn away and stop what we knew we started. Though the look in his eyes watched me carefully almost cautious of himself.

I stepped into my blue jeans and reached for my black hoodie that hung over the towel bar in the bathroom deciding to throw that on instead. Looking back at my reflection into the mirror that hung above the sink I rubbed my hand across my neck feeling that my necklace was no longer there. My tiny gold crescent moon necklace that I hardly ever remove was gone. Last time I remember wearing it was when I was down to my bra and jeans. When I removed my shirt the chain to my necklace somehow got entangled with the strap of my bra. Somewhere in between him helping me loosen it up so that I wouldn’t break the chain we started gradually moving closer. Everything happened so fast, it was like an anticipated thrill.

I quickly leaned forward kissing him first. I moved at the pace of a heartbeat because I was purely acting on impulsive desires. We hadn’t known each other for more than few hours and I didn’t even know his name nor did I give him mine. For two torrid strangers we kissed and moved though as if we’ve done this a hundred times or more. He tangled me in his arms pressing his hands against my lower back as I kissed along the nape of his neck while blindly trying to remove his shirt. Once I was successfully able to take it off completely. He grabbed me by the waist and twisted me around. I was no longer facing him at this point. I could feel that his breathing had halted. Using my senses I could feel him sliding his finger at the clasp of my bra, tugging it apart with just one pull. I braced myself leaning further back into him. I wriggled my arms out of it letting it fall to the ground. He kissed the top of my shoulder slowly bringing his lips further down my back. I could feel his teeth gently nip at certain areas on the lower parts of my back. While his hands stayed firmly pressed against my chest.

“Your sister is suppose to be back by now ,I’m starved!” Mom said.

“Brooklyn is here?” I asked briskly. Catching myself in a daydream. I walked out of the bathroom feeling around for the light switch, still holding on to the memory.

“Oh yeah she got in sometime yesterday!” She exclaimed. “Your paths haven’t crossed yet?” The look on her face was questionable.

“She didn’t mention she was coming yesterday. I thought she would be here today.” I told her.

“Well she’s in fact here and she’s brought a date. Handsome young man you must meet him.” My mother said as she gave her promising look of approval.

“Is this that same guy she’s been talking about non stop?” I sat at the edge of her bed gripping onto the tall wooden bedpost, pressing my cheek against it.

“That’s the one! ” She closed the door to her closet. Her eyebrows were furrowed together like she was unsure of a name.

“Well I can’t wait to meet him. The way Brooklyn kept him hidden I almost didn’t think he even existed.”

“Nor did I.” She winked over at me as we both broke out into laughter.

Downstairs simultaneously we both heard a chiming noise that indicated the front door was being opened. Mom adverted her attention towards the opening in the hallway. “They must be back.” She said before walking down the hall to go downstairs. I got up as well excitably following behind her. Despite my mother mentioning to me earlier that she was already here, she must’ve been hidden under the radar. Because that’s something I definitely wouldn’t have missed. Brooklyn was by the front door bent over setting down brown paper bags that tumbled out of her grasp.

“Honey let me help you.” Mom said rushing to her aid. I skipped down the last few steps walking up behind her waiting to receive my sister’s reaction.

“Little sister!” Brooklyn exclaimed, jumping towards me with her arms open wide. She embraced me in a tight hug and I hugged back just the same.

“You smell like Bath & Body Work’s dowsed you in every scent they own.” I said breathing in her sharp perfume.

“Very funny I missed you too!” Brooklyn pulled back scrunching her face into a smile.

“You didn’t close the door.” Mom complained as she peeped her head out of the door before closing it.

“That’s because my beau has to come in. He couldn’t stop going on and on about how stunning your garden is that he bought you flowers. You as well Caroline!” She said turning her head back at me.

“How thoughtful.” I sarcastically noted. My mother had an assortment of flowers growing out in her backyard yet he felt the need to bring her already plucked ones. I moved closer to my mother who was struggling carrying three of the bags Brooklyn brought in. As I was picking them up I heard the excitement in the room pick back up. I went ahead and placed the bags in front of my feet until I introduced myself. Turning around my warm affections suddenly turned cold. The guy who interfered with my every waking thought since yesterday night had returned and this time had a name to his face.

“Caroline this is Sebastian!”

{Part 1 out of 3}