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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties - here is part 6! We are officially halfway through this fic! Part 6 sees friendships blossom, situationships struggle, and cheeky intercontinental facetime chats! I hope you all are enjoying it as much as i am! I love hearing from you after you've read it! Love always, Steph xx

Part 6 | parte sesta

warnings; a couple of tugs on the heartstrings (in both the best and worst ways)

word count; 2301

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 06/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Amelia had been back in Turin for a week or so, settling back into her city apartment had been more difficult than she anticipated as she was now alone for the first time in more than 2.5 months. It wasn’t very often, but sometimes she did miss the companionship of having a boyfriend. She missed someone to have breakfast with, to watch movies under the covers, to bring to official events. She still did all of these things, with a date, that was a friend, that sometimes maybe crept beyond the friendship zone and into the we shouldn’t be doing this but it feels so good zone.

Fede was someone that hung around Amelia like a fly to sugar. She enjoyed the attention most of the time. She appreciated his friendship, wisdom, talent and intellect. He could hold a conversation, talk to her about the arts, sell her the dream. She even didn’t mind it when they did cross that line a few times. Long afternoons and even longer nights spent wrapped up together in his bed sheets, her bathtub, his kitchen, her lounge room...you get the point. It was almost as though the two were in a committed relationship - committed being the operable word.

Fede wanted Amelia all to himself, and she was just that - available to him and for him whenever he wished, which was often. That’s what confused Amelia most, he didn’t want to label their situationship. He was happy to be ‘friends’ outside the four walls of their respective homes, but lovers when the curtains were drawn. She would maybe understand if he was elusive, always going out and on his phone but he wasn’t. He spent all of his time with her, there wouldn't have been enough hours left in the day if he separated those he spent with her from those he spent alone.

The Juventus players noticed this behaviour early on, seeing a noticeable difference in the way their number 33 paid attention to their tactical sessions. How he was turning up to the training centre early, with an extra piccolo for the english member of their coaching staff. Federico claimed he was helping Amelia brush up on her Italian, but having an Italian-born mother who insisted on sharing her culture with her kids, meant she was pretty much fluent in the language before arriving in Turin. His teammates weren’t stupid and neither was she.

This was the one area of her life where Amelia felt comfortable to go with the flow, she didn’t need to prepare or overthink anything to do with the charming Italian boy from Firenze. She let him take it at his own pace, she was in no need to rush. She let him take her home to meet his Nonna, she spent quality alone time with his dogs when he’s running late from training, and that’s a rare occasion being that it’s normally her there after him and he hangs back to drive them both home.

Everything was progressing at his pace, and the moment Amelia just asks for some clarification on the situation, he would get visibly stressed. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And for a long time he could, he had Amelia's attention and affection at Juve, he even had it during their european campaign. At the end of the tournament, when they all broke up for their summer breaks, Fede conveniently waited until their final round in the shower, if you know what i mean, before pulling her into bed and having a heart to heart with her.

Amelia thought that she was finally getting the clarification that she was after, which in a way she did. Fede spoke whimsical words about how she makes him feel wanted and understood, and in turn he told her about the affects he knew he had on her. It was a conversation that would turn Shakespeare to a pile of rose petals. In the end, he told her that he wanted to continue what they had just how they had been doing it. And so, that's exactly how they left it. No labels. Friends outside of the four walls of their apartments. That was all Amelia needed to be able to enjoy her family holiday in Mykonos, guilt free, not missing the man that became the equivalent of her shadow.

The constant company she had in Mykonos compared to what she was experiencing in Turin made her more eager to return to work than she had previously. Of course, there are group chats and facetimes and phone calls throughout the days that kept her occupied, but she was missing the boys and her brother. Her friendship with Kyle was back to its old ways, memes being shared across the european continent, long phone calls to talk about their problems. Kyle knew all about the Fede x Amelia situation, Amelia having given him the sparknotes version over a wine filled zoom session one evening that same week. Their pre-seasons hadn’t gone back yet so they were able to indulge in a bit of vino, guilt free.

She was surprised about the constant contact, or lack thereof, that some of the boys had maintained with her. Ben Chilwell hadn’t once messaged or instagrammed the girl, despite being active in their group chats and liking her holiday pictures on instagram. He even made the rookie error of liking a picture so far down on her instagram, there was no way to explain his need for being there. She messaged him a couple times, assuming he just got busy with whatever he was doing, but there was radio silence on the other end.

A friendship she was surprised had blossomed so well, considering their flirtatious start to life, was with that of Jack Grealish and Tyrone Mings. There had been more facetimes than she could count between herself and the two villa boys. Whether it was Tyrone telling her about a book he had finished that he thought she would enjoy, or Jack asking her how to cook dinner, maybe even them both cooking dinner together - of course she had to have a later dinner to be able to do so, with the time difference and all...and there was no way Jack was going to be having dinner an hour early “athlete’s schedule an all tha ya’know” he would smirk down the camera, brummie accent on full display.

She met Tyrone through Jack, he facetimed the girl for outfit advice one night before going out with the tall defender and the pair hit it off. Both giving Jack the fashion advice he needed but didn’t want to hear (a Gucci two piece tracksuit set is never the answer). Tyrone immediately noticed a certain attention to detail being applied by his fellow number 10, to the tactics that were being put forward by the girl that was far too good at her job. His training was improving, his set pieces having a certain amount of flare. There was also a lack of attention being paid from Jack to other girls. Instead, much preferring to spend the evening at home watching the same netflix series as Amelia so that he could discuss it with her the next day, or better yet, at the same time.

As pre-season had commenced, Amelia had been applying the same tactics that she developed (and that obviously worked) throughout the European campaign to her Juventus club level. Having faith in the four men that were with her and the Azzurri to ensure that their other teammates were completing them accurately. It appears that her skill was widely recognised, having a few missed calls and voice messages left from English telephone numbers that she was yet to listen to. In all seriousness, she was nervous to listen to them. Worried that they would make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. A wise person once told her that you shouldn’t make any decisions whilst you're at the top of your happy, or the bottom of your sad. You should make important decisions when your life is at its constant. It's very easy to accept things that you wouldn’t normally when you're at the peak of your mood, just as easy as it is to forget the bigger picture when you're down. Who knew Kyle Walker was so wise.

“So, i’ve got a bit of a dilemma” She spoke down to her facetime camera one evening in early August.

“Hit me with it darlin’” Jack spoke back to her, getting his dinner utensils out so that they could cook together again. He didn’t like not being prepared for her tutorial, he got stressed if she added pepper and his pepper was still in his pantry. Each afternoon, when it was agreed upon what they would be cooking together that evening, she sent him a list of what he would need out on his bench to complete the meal.

“I’ve missed a few calls from English teleco numbers this last week or so”

“Ok? Do you think they’re scams? You’re beautiful Amelia but I don't think it's actually an Egyptian prince on the other end that wants to offer you 250k in exchange for your paypal info…”

“Ha ha very funny - that was one time ok and he wasn’t a Prince, he was claiming to be an investment banker and wanted to help me start up my portfolio-ANYWAY JACK I WAS 16! God just forget I even told you that story” Amelia barked down facetime, now pausing what she was doing to point at the British boy with her wooden spoon, the same way her mother would to her when she was being cheeky. All she was met with was boisterous laughter.

“Nah i’m only joking, continue with your story.”

“I began to listen to the start of one and it was a talent acquisition manager for one of the premier league clubs, offering me a job” Amelia said as she continued to stir her pasta. Tonight they were making penne arrabiata. She received no reply from the boy. Looking down to her camera to check the call was still active, she saw him looking at the camera with a serious expression.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is before I start to get excited that you’re going to be living within driving distance from me? Oh god i’ve just realised - was it from Villa? You could be even closer than I imagined” Jack started to ramble, getting over excited with the prospect of being so close to the girl that he could physically hang out with her, instead of virtually.

“Jack calm down, I didn't listen long enough to find out what club he was from. I have 5 more just like it waiting in my inbox.”

“What's the problem then Mils?” Jack could see the girl had apprehension written all over her face.

“I’m just nervous that they're going to tell me everything I've always wanted to hear. That they’re going to make me an offer I can't refuse and I have to leave my life here.” Their pasta was ready to be dished up now, so the girl poured herself a glass of red wine and got herself comfy on her couch.

“Come on, play the messages and i’ll listen to them with you, be your voice of reason,” Jack offered the girl.

“I should probably call Tyrone, you’re just going to reject every club that isn’t Villa.” she laughed before switching facetime to her laptop, moving to the floor of her lounge room and resting her elbows on her coffee table. With the phone near the screen of her mac, she began to play the messages.

_____________________________________________________________

“Hi Amelia, Shaun here from Newcastle United-” “As if you’d waste your talents at Newcastle”

“Jack! That's horrible! At least i know i already look good in the black and white striped kit”

“No, not happening. Next”

“Amelia, Hope you don’t mind but I got your number off of one of my players who knows you. Long story short, we have a position here are Arsenal” “Bloody Bukayo, needs to keep his silky mitts off ya”

“Jack, give it a rest or i’m calling Tyrone”

“Amelia White, Greg here from Aston Villa Football Club” “Get in Greggles!! That's it, stop listening, you’re taking this one”

“I need to listen to them all Jack”

“So, you’ll consider Villa?”

“I’ll consider all of them”

“You’d really go to Arsenal? Aren’t you a Spurs supporter? Shocking stuff”

“Ok maybe not all of them”

“Ciao Amelia, Mario here from Chelsea Football Club - I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. We could really use you here at Chelsea next season. Give me a call when you get a spare moment to discuss the opportunity”

“What? Nothing to say to this one, Jack?”

“Nah, sounds ok. You deserve to showcase your skills at a big club like Chelsea. And besides, you’ll have Jorginho there to look after you. Come on, next one”

“It’s the last one actually”

“Amelia, we’ve got a fantastic opportunity here at Manchester City for someone with your skill set. It would be a massive advantage to have your tactical insight to the game coupled alongside the fantastic leadership we’ve already got at the club”. “Holy shit, Pep called you himself? Kyle Walker really knows how to pull strings when he wants something”

“I am overwhelmed”

“Hey, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it, talk it over with your family. Speak to Jorgi, I know you’re close with him. And just let me know when you decide to pick Villa so i can start house huntin’ for ya”

“Night Jack, speak soon”

“Sleep tight darlin’, speak to ya tomorrow”

Part 7. | settima parte

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kaistarus · 4 years

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Fake Confessions Spawn Real Feelings

Pairings: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Noya asks you to help him make Kiyoko jealous, but like most of his ideas it doesn’t go the way he expects it to.

Notes: Chaotic Noya is my favorite Noya, so half this fic is cute and half this fic is him being a crackhead. Both versions I'm unhealthily in love with.

**there’s now a sequel with the first date**

Masterlist

“Noya what the hell are you doing?”

Nishinoya appeared by your desk the moment the final bell had rung bouncing with the energy of a caffeinated toddler. You were suspicious of the impatient look in his eyes that could only mean trouble, which was later confirmed by him pulling you out of your desk the moment your class materials were packed. Now, without explaining his actions, he weaved his way through the halls while dragging you reluctantly along.

“The most genius thing ever.” He said once you arrived outside the school’s gymnasium. Nishinoya dropped your hand and began looking around the empty courtyard.

“What are you looking for?”

“Kiyoko,” he opened his bag and dug around before producing an envelope. You raised an amused brow at the poorly drawn hearts adorning the parchment.

“Are you giving that to her?”

Nishinoya raised an eyebrow like you’d just asked the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard. “What? No, this is empty.” He shoved it into your hands.

You blinked, raising the envelope into the light to confirm that it was indeed see through. “So, you just decorated an empty envelope? What’s the point of that?”

“Well, when Kiyoko sees another girl confessing her feelings for me. She’ll think I’m irresistible!”

He puffed out his chest after swinging his bag back onto his back.

“Another girl?” You snorted as you flipped the envelope over to admire the poorly drawn kissy faces on its back. “Who’s stupid enough to do that?”

“You are!” He said as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. You stared blankly. “You’re going to give me that fake love letter.”

“What do you mean I’m going to-”

“Then she’ll be like, ‘oh Noya, I didn’t realize you were so sexy and talented, please don’t leave me’,” he said while clasping his hands together and raising his voice several octaves.

“I don’t think she’s going to-”

“And I’ll be like, ‘Kiyoko baby I would never leave you. I’d wait a million lifetimes sweet mama’.” He grabbed his cheeks and wiggled his butt around, clearly lost in a fantasy. “Then we’ll fall in love and get married at a destination wedding and have ten thousand children and Tanaka will weep of jealousy at my astounding awesomeness.”

“Ten thousand babies?” Your jaw dropped in horror before you quickly shook it off. You pushed the envelope against his chest. “Look, I’m not doing this.”

“C’mon, this is literally life or death.” He tried, shoving the letter back into your hands.

“What if someone sees? I’m supposed to live with the reputation of confessing to you and everyone thinking you turned me down?”

“First of all, ouch. Second of all, everyone’s gone home by now.” Nishinoya shrugged. “What could possibly go wrong?”

The phrase alone made a long list scroll through your mind. “I wouldn’t even know how to confess.”

“I’m literally cool as fuck,” Noya smirked. “It should be easy. Just be honest.”

You gave him a once-over. “Do you want to impress Kiyoko or have me be honest? Pick one.”

Nishinoya glared at you before his eyes connected with something over your shoulder. “Okay, here she comes. Act natural.”

He released the envelope and you caught it on reflex, sneering at him while he straightened out his poster and uniform jacket. What did he mean to act natural? Absolutely nothing about this situation was natural.

“Oh my gosh, (Y/N). Why did you ask that we meet out here all alone?” Noya said, his voice awkwardly stiff and loud.

Your grip on the envelope tightened as you tried to keep yourself from becoming more agitated with Nishinoya. He has the nerve to tell you to act natural and then puts on a performance like that. “I have something important I need to tell you…”

“I wonder what it is. As someone who respects all women I will take any amount of time out of my day to listen to your words.” The corner of his mouth quirks up and he shoots you a small thumbs up at his hip. It takes all of your concentration to not roll your eyes.

You heard a pair of footsteps echoing from the walkway that connected the main building and the gymnasium, so you figured one of them belonged to Kiyoko. In your peripheral you spotted her and Yachi pretending to stare down at a clipboard in Kiyoko’s hands, but you knew they were glancing up at the fake display you both were putting on.

“Uh, well, it’s just… um... ” You nibbled on your bottom lip from frustration. Thankfully, they probably took your hesitation for nervousness rather than the inability to think of something to say.

It wasn’t that you disliked Nishinoya. You actually really admired him-not that you had ever imagined admitting it to his face. But… if you didn’t have a choice.

You took a deep breath.

“I think that you're really amazing,” you said, avoiding his excited amber eyes you knew were trained on Kiyoko anyway. “I like how determined you are to do your best and how that transitions to how hard you work in volleyball. I truly believe you’re the greatest libero there is.”

You felt Nishinoya’s focus become more grounded on you, so you lifted your stare to meet his. The longer you made eye-contact the more it felt like he was pulling the confession from you. “I like how much you care about your friends and that you work hard to cheer people up even when I can tell you’re not in a great mood yourself. I also admire how fearless you are and how you’re the first to try new things.” You looked down again and dug your shoe into the dirt. “I wish I could be more like that sometimes.”

You felt your cheeks warming as his mouth went a little slack and his brow creased. You knew you could probably stop at any moment, but the words were flowing too easily and a part of you wanted him to hear them now. Later you could pretend it was for the bit and not because your heart weighed heavy in your chest.

“I’ve always been jealous of how free it feels to be around you. Like, how chaotic and carefree you can be, but you still know how to be serious in certain situations.” You shrugged. “You’re also pretty cute or whatever, so that’s a good addition.”

Nishinoya looked in awe. You glanced back at Kiyoko and Yachi who were now watching from the gymnasium’s entrance-their heads peeking out from the doorway. You became self-conscious when you remembered it wasn’t just you and Nishinoya and you felt the urgency to wrap this up quickly.

“So, uh,” you held the poorly crafted envelope Nishinoya had made outward. “I really like you, Nishinoya. I hope you can accept my feelings.”

The moment had come where he was supposed to turn you down. Say he couldn’t accept and you’d be on your way to live life like normal. But, instead of saying anything he just kept staring at you.

You coughed awkwardly and waved the envelope in his face. “Noya…”

“Oh, uh, right.” His cheeks dusted pink and he took the empty envelope. “Thanks. That um… you’re also… pretty cool.”

He just stared down at the poorly crafted envelope for several moments before glancing back up at you nervously.

“So, I get done with practice at around six if you want to hang out later? Unless you’re busy tonight. We can hang out this weekend or really I can make any time work. Dead ass, like, I can fucking skip practice if that’s what you want.”

You blinked.

...what.

“What’s going on?” You leaned forward to whisper, but he leaned away awkwardly. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“I know, but you said all those nice things and now I’m confused.” Nishinoya covered his face with his hands.

“Confused how?” You looked back to the doorway where Kiyoko and Yachi had been peeking out and frowned at how they were gone.

“Confused like my heart feels funny and now I want to get married and have ten thousand kids and stuff.”

Your face turned bright red. “What? I can’t have ten thousand kids.”

“One thousand?”

“I’m not having more than two kids,” you crossed your arms. “Besides, one kid with your energy is equivalent to at least two.”

He pouted. “Fine, but then I get to choose our destination wedding.”

“Absolutely not. You’d pick somewhere ridiculous like Nebraska.”

“What the hell is a Nebraska?”

“It’s a boring place in the US where nothing-” You waved it off. “Why are we even talking about this? You don’t like me, Noya. You like Kiyoko.”

“But I didn’t even know I was allowed to like you,” his brow furrowed as he thought. “I mean, I’ve thought about liking you, but it’s different ‘ya know?”

“No,” you responded. Next time Nishinoya pulls you into a ridiculous plot where he claims ‘what could possibly go wrong?’ you’d have to add actual confessions to the long list.

“You’re like a real person.” He gestured to all of you and you just tilted your head confused. “It’s like, Kiyoko can turn me down a hundred times, but she’ll still talk to me so who cares. But if you turned me down it’d be different. I might never get to be with you again. Does that make sense?”

“I guess… so…” You furrowed your brow and stared at his shoes that were tapping nervously against the ground. “Do you even know how to go on dates?”

“How dare you,” he placed a hand over his chest in mock horror. “I’ll have you know I’ve read two whole romance books. No pictures.”

“Well, when you sell yourself like that.” You smirked before taking a deep breath. “I mean, I guess… it would be fine. If we had one date.”

“Really?” He fist pumped. “Fuck yeah. I’m gonna swoon you so good. This’ll be the best date of your life.”

“I’ve never been on a date.”

“Even better! There’s no standard.” He cackled as he spun around with his fist raised high. “I can’t even fuck it up.”

“I don’t think that’s how that-”

“I’ll text you,” he sent you a wide smile over his shoulder. “I promise that this is going to be really great. You’re going to love it.”

You gave a slight nod and watched him practically skip into the gymnasium. It took Tanaka’s disbelieving shouts to snap you out of your frozen stupor and you stared down at your hands in confusion.

What the hell just happened?

Mindlessly, you made your way to the front of the school where your bike was chained up so you could finally get home and relax. You spent the entire ride home in a numb state of disbelief that somehow, in less than an hour, you’d gone from refusing to admit you found Nishinoya even remotely cool to going on a date with him.

What kind of witchcraft had he pulled?

You assured yourself that it was just a date and nothing would come of it. So when you struggled with focusing on your homework that night because every few minutes your heart would do acrobatics at the idea of spending time alone with Nishinoya, you pretended it was just leftover embarrassment.

It also probably meant nothing that your face turned red when he texted you immediately after his practice with like ten smiley faces. And it definitely wasn’t a big deal that you giggled like an idiot while texting him until three in the morning about absolutely nothing. That was all just normal stuff that happened between normal people who had a normal non-romantic connection. No way had you actually fallen for Nishinoya.

You definitely weren’t in denial.

As you sat through a boring lesson the next day in class your eyes drifted, landing unsurprisingly on the boy taking up too much of your mental space. He was absentmindedly fiddling with his dyed strand of hair as he focused intently on the workbook on his desk. His tongue poked out in concentration as he repeatedly wrote and erased something on the same line in his notebook. You smiled fondly at the frustrated crease between his furrowed brow as he struggled to analyze that day’s literature passage.

Nishinoya must have felt you blatantly staring because he lifted his head confused before searching around the room and finally meeting your eyes dead on. You stared at each other briefly until he gave you a lopsided grin that sent your heart into a frenzy. You lifted your hand for a little wave and embarrassingly turned your attention back to your own schoolwork.

You rubbed your pencil’s eraser against one of your now pink cheeks.

Damn it… you thought, as you began underlining random sentences to appear busy. You really did like him. A small smile rested on your lips as your heart kept it’s irregular pattern. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing?

You snuck another peek and your smile fell when you saw him cross-eyed and balancing his pencil on his top lip. He’d apparently given up on attempting to do the assigned work for the day. You watched the pencil roll forward and he tried to catch it on his tongue before it clattered onto his desk, pulling everyone’s attention.

You groaned quietly and covered your face with your hands.

At least he was cute?

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yu #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya yū #haikyuu!!#nishinoya scenarios #nishinoya imagine #haikyuu x reader

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treesandtheirberries · 3 years

Text

Dad!Harry talks to his daughter about her questioning sexuality PART 2

part one

(Thank you all for liking the last post, my heart is so full.)

More about the twins, parents' discussions, and a girl's day of insight and vulnerability.

WC: 3.5 k

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After tucking June in bed, much to her playful annoyance, Harry made his way to the bedroom where the love of his life was resting. Crossing the hallway, he smiled to himself. There was nothing he loved more than being a trusted father. Having this responsibility lifted him, it guided him to be even better. Just replaying the conversation he had in his head was bringing extra moisture to his eyes. What could he say? He was a natural softie, this (y/n) knew so it was no different with his babies.

Right before making it to his shared bedroom, he instead turned to make his way to the younger ones' room. (y/n) might possibly be crossed with him if she finds out he awoke them just for some kisses, but she didn't have to know.

Shuffling into the room, lit by a nightlight that displayed soft stars on the kids' ceiling, he noticed both of them whispering to one another. Having them share a room was the conscious decision of the parents. Although they had a few rooms to spare, they preferred the twins to sleep together, as they quickly noticed how the two reacted when apart. Oftentimes, they'll find Mick in Mazzy's bed, or vice-versa. It is clear to the parents that the twins are most comfortable with one another, and separating them seemed borderline abusive.

"Hmmm, what're you two on about? Late, innit?" Harry softly spoke, with a smile on his face to clear any seriousness in his words.

"Dadaaaa" Mazzy dragged, smiling that her father was here. She sat up on her bed, making grabby arms as to drag her father further into the room. He was so weak for his babies and quickly made his way to her.

"Mazzy meet friends today. Talk dada," Mick explained in an annoyed tone, which Harry obviously found hilarious. Pardon him for not knowing the basis of their conversations. As he smiled to himself, he wrapped his arm around Mazzy as she further burrowed himself on his side, and he extended his hand to Mick (whose bed was a very short distance away from Mazzy's). "Bedtime dada, momma said sleep" Mick said seriously to his father as he reluctantly grabbed his hand.

Harry and (y/n) could see the personalities of the two strongly already: Mick adopted the role of the carrying older brother despite being born only six minutes before, and Mazzy the clumsy, caring younger sister. The twins upheld their roles quite well, and because of their personalities, they rarely left each others' sides.

"Oh baby, I know she did but I just want some snuggies. Don't kill me, 'kay?" Harry said, pulling his arm so Mick would get the message to hug his father. Despite wanting to seem ever-so mature, loved nothing more than to hug the most important man of his life and finally succumbed to 'snuggies'.

"Mumma said to sleep for school, dada," Mazzy inquisitively said to Harry, looking up at him questioning.

"Yes baby, you two need to start sleeping more, you'll start preschool later this year, and mums' not sure if they do nappy time like in daycare." He rubbed both of their backs in unison as he saw them interlock hands on his stomach. These moments, he thinks, are the exact reason he does what he does. He wants nothing more than to support his babies (all four, actually) and be able to watch them grow. "Just wanted to give you guys some kissies. Kissies please?" He finished by puckering his lips as he looks down at the two.

They giggle and lean up to press soft kisses on his cheeks simultaneously.

"Now what's this about some friends, Mazzy?"

"Yes papa, so nice to me. Mick wants to hear if good friends."

Harry continued to rub their backs, so proud of their bond. "Good job Mick, always taking care of your sister. You know she'll always do the same for you too."

"I know dada, told me Aidan was rude to her. We not friends again." Mick stated, again making his father's chest filled with pride.

"Good, we all know we need to treat our friends nicely but if they are not kind back, we can't let ourselves be their friends. What do we do, babes?"

The kids smiled, playfully annoyed once again yet said together: "treat people with kindness." dragging it out as most kids do with very little seriousness.

"I've gotta go now, let's tuck you both in so momma will never know I was here, 'kay?" He lifted Mick in his arms and carried him the short distance to his bed, while Mazzy tucked her legs back in her blankie. Making sure Mick was cozy, he planted a wet kiss on his forehead.

"Dadaaa" Mick smiled, knowing his father's antics by now.

After placing another kiss on Mazzy's head, he placed a palm on both of the children's bellies. "I love you two so dearly. You guys, June, and your mum are the best things in my life. Rest up so we can have another fun day tomorrow babies."

He finally made his way out of their room, seeing the two burrowings further into their respective blankets with their eyes closed filling his heart. Sneaking his phone out, he snapped a quick picture and sent it to his wife so she could keep a copy of the moment. (although, through this, he effectively ruined the small secret of waking them.) Fuck it, he'll just say this is how he found them.

-----

"She wanted to talk about the Sage situation?" (y/n) guessed, as her beloved crossed the threshold and planted himself face-first on their king bed. All spread out, he moved his back to crack it, due to the stress of every day and ... well, age.

"Said she heard about my sexuality more than yours. Bet you're jealous huh?"

"Please, I know the bond you two have. Is she okay though? You gave her the good ole' 'we'll always be there' parent talk?" (y/n) never doubted his ability to be a father, but these circumstances were a bit more sensitive than other matters. She finally shut her book, placing it on the bedside table that holds Harry and her's current reads. There was no better end to her day than kissing her babies and reading alongside the love of her life.

"She's okay, I think. It's hard for her, obviously. I hate seeing her in pain but this is just one of those things she has to do. As long as she knows we're here, I don't expect it to be too difficult?" He pondered. He did mean it, being a questioning teenager is difficult as is but adding sexuality to the equation? He was fortunate enough to be so self-assured that the concept of questioning himself wasn't that turbulent. "But she wants to hear from you too, obviously. Be prepared to share your life story babe," he giggled, turning his head to see his wife who now began to stroke his hair. God, that really did it when he was tired.

"Yeah, I think I recall her saying this week was slow since she finished exams, so would you agree that we could take a girl's day in light of it all?" She pondered, wanting to assure her daughter in the best, normal way possible.

Harry finally sat up, only to cuddle into his wife's arms. This was another reason he knew the two were soulmates: she loved being the big spoon as much as he liked being held in her arms. "Yes, definitely a good idea. Mhm, what'd I do to have someone as mindful and loving as you? M'life would be incomplete without you, you're everything to me, love." Still feeling as 'lovey-dovey' as ever, he burrowed his head further into her, almost physically absorbing the love she poured out.

"I just want her to feel normal, I guess. When I finally came out, it seemed like it was the only interesting thing about me. It was the only point of conversation for a while, and I don't want June to feel like it's such a hugely different thing. She's still our baby, always will be."

"Hmm, the parenting books have nothing on us. So happy we're a team," he says, grabbing one of her hands to intertwine their fingers. "Gives me a love boner just thinking about how good we are, God."

"Narcissistic asshole. Want a bedtime handie?"

Her words make him shudder, a moan itching to be released. "M'done for with you."

She smiles at his words, knowing that the man in her arms is unlike the general population in that he prefers her hand far over her mouth. Shifting a bit, she kept one arm around his shoulders, to keep him close, and inched the other one to his briefs. They were firm believers in comfortable sleeping, which often lead to sleeping in only undergarments or less. She began to touch him softly through the fabric, already feeling how hard he was. "Oh baby, what's got you all worked up already?" It was a taunting tone, something about their position made it common sense that he'd be more submissive tonight.

"Please, (y/n). Just a quick hand, please." He shifted his hips, trying to get her soft hand to come down harder. Lucky for him, she wasn't in a mood to see him suffer and pressed the heel of her hand more firmly. "You know exactly what that does to me. Please baby, I'll be quiet."

"I know you will, you deserve this, 'kay?" She finally ended the small foreplay and moved her fingers into his briefs. Having been with her for over 15 years, (y/n) knew exactly what got Harry off the quickest. Nothing sold him out faster than a quick, sloppy hand, and her coaxing and appraisal always made him finish embarrassingly fast. Wrapping her hand around his length, she immediately began to jerk him off, wiping his precome to make it smoother. "Such a good daddy to our babies, best father out there I swear."

Her words made him shudder, even more, her touch making him extremely sensitive. Given her arm wrapped around him, he moved his head to the crevice of her neck, feeling shy from her praise. "(y/n), you're going to-" he was interrupted by her thumbing his head again, letting out a breathy moan, "god, make me cum so quick, please."

"It's okay baby, come on now, give it to me." She smirked as she felt him press soft kisses to her neck, almost as a thank you for the fucking phenomenal handie he was receiving.

His breath increased, indicating he was nearing his peak. He began to whimper ever so slightly, wriggling in place and only pushing himself closer to her. "Cumming, god m'cumming." he moaned, finally releasing over her hand.

(y/n) didn't end there though, still dragging her hand to rub his cum down his length and creating a click-ing sound. It was left unsaid that he loved to be overstimulated and milked.

Finally pulling her hand out after Harry begged her it was enough, she got up to grab a hand towel from their en suite restroom. Coming back, she found him with his eyes shut, clearly ready for sleeping.

"Budge up, or this'll get all gross in the morning."

Moving sluggishly, he allowed her to clean. "Come on now, let me do the same to you," he slurred as he flipped on his side, patting the bed.

"No baby, that's alright. Just wanna sleep with 'ya." She smiled at him fondly, noticing his eyes once again shutting in content. The two were almost annoying cuddlers, and they were practically seared together when it came to sleeping.

"Alright, in my arms 'ya go now. Come." He said faintly as she crawled into the space he made for her. Immediately squishing her face in his chest, he wrapped both arms around her back, caging her in and digging his fingers in her loose hair. "Love you," he whispered, although given his face was over her head, it was pretty muffled.

"Love you."

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

"Let's do three more deep breaths, and then we can go see what your mum made for breakfast," Harry indicated, eyes still shut as he sat cross-legged by Mazzy and Mick on the floor, June also sitting on one of the twins' bed.

Before the two parents gave birth to June, Harry insisted that it would be vital to teach their children meditation: a practice that would help them understand and work through their emotions. (y/n) agreed quickly, after hearing many testimonials online of increased mindfulness in small toddlers. Harry tried more often than not to do what he called "Good Morning Heart" exercises before school, but if he was out (y/n) had no problem doing it alone. Today though, the two woke up slightly later than usual and had to split up their duties.

"Okay, good. Keep your eyes closed for now, my bugs. I want you to think about one thing you hope to achieve today. Talk to a new kid maybe, or participate in class. Anything, and take another deep breath as you think of it."

"Dada, done now," Mazzy said, smiling wide at her father. Obviously having meditated her whole life (although they didn't consider it meditation, more so family time) she was used to these exercises and her father leading the group. She didn't know exactly why they did it, but being able to frame your day as positive before it even starts did boost her already positive demeanor.

"Good job baby, so proud of you. Why don't you go run down to see your mama? Not on the stairs though."

"I take her, dada!" Mick excitedly said, unknowingly to others, his positive goal for the day was protecting his 'baby' sister.

Harry smiled, dimples shinning as he saw the two siblings scurry down the hall. "Finished bug?" He asked as June and he were the only two left in the twins' room.

"Yeah, going to ask mom about everything."

"She's ready, and she's so fucking proud of you."

"Thank you, Dad, for everything. I mean it." June leaned over to give him a hug, making her cheek squish against his shoulder. He moved his head over to give her a kiss over her hair, closing his eyes for a second, basking in the life full of love he manifested.

"You didn't hear it from me, but I have an insider report your mum made chocolate pancakes."

-----------

"Come here for your kisses, don't try to weasel out of it," (y/n) laughed, putting her arm over the center console to pucker her lips. Mick was first, giving his mom a kiss on the cheek, dimples resembling his father's. Mazzy followed with obtaining their daily kiss before daycare, both stumbling their way out of the car to meet a teacher that helped them inside. "God they're so precious, as are you," (y/n) said, as she softly pinches June's cheek.

"Mooom," June dragged, now in the 'always embarrassed by parents' teenager phase. "Could we talk about Yesterday? You know, with whatever Dad said?”

“Yes! Actually, before we start would it be cool if we play hooky?” There wasn’t a ‘cooler’ parent between the two as they usually were very lenient, but this definitely bought (y/n) some cool parent points.

“What?! Are you sure? Is Dad okay with it?”

“Of course, he encouraged it really. Just a girl's day for us, can go shopping and eat lunch? Whad’ya think babe?”

“Freak it.” Or for translation, June’s way of saying fuck it.

—————

“Can you maybe … tell me how it worked for you? How you … decided?” June said nervously, still nervous about the topic.

“Yeah, of course, baby. It’s a much longer story than your fathers, but I’ll try to condense it:

“At your age, it’s such a period of confusion, and a lot of times your family can agitate that. From seventh grade to about my senior year of high school, I had what I now call my ‘identity crisis. Really, it was rooted in sexual confusion and overall expression but at the time, it was the most dramatic thing happening since the death of mom.”

The two were sitting in the car, having stopped by a local cafe for coffee before sitting in the mall parking lot. It was an odd place, but comfortable given the two were together. (y/n) and Harry prided themselves off of being an open family and sharing details of their past, but this wasn’t something June had heard of in such detail yet. Because of this, she was extremely absorbed in what her mother was saying.

“It’s really funny to me now, because that’s how I deal with things, I guess. But at the moment, I was-“ (y/n) turned her head to look out the window of the car, needing a small moment before recalling the most difficult time of her life. “It’s ridiculous because I know I should say losing mom was painful, but this whole sexuality thing tore me apart in a different way. It was silent, and it was internal. There was no one I could tell, not until my junior year.

“Anyway, going back to the plotline, yes. I did have a close friend I liked. She is mainly the reason I began to question, that and being a little too obsessed with Stevie Nicks. Sidebar: that was one thing that your father and I initially bonded on.” (y/n) finally lifted her head to see her daughter who stared at her with much adoration. Although she was a mother, this specific conversation still made her extremely insecure due to years of denial from family. She could only hope to raise her kids in a contrasting environment. “It was really hard, and I did become depressed and, well, suicidal frankly. Coming from a background like mine, there isn’t a ‘good’ view on anyone who is gay and that combined with my father's overall conserved nature, I was terrified. Then there was the back-and-forth: am I gay? Am I straight? Am I faking it? Does it matter? And the answer, to the last one at least, is yes it does fucking matter.”

“It made you that sad? Trying to figure it out? Dad says I’ll always be the same girl, why was it such a big deal for grandpa?”

“It was hard on me that I didn’t have someone noticing this pain I was going through. I, unfortunately, did not have someone to tell me that it was okay, and it was normal. God, I felt like such a deviant,” (y/n) laughed in an attempt at raising the mood. “When I finally got around to telling your grandpa, he said that mom mentioned it to him once, before she passed. He claims that she said I was going to be different, and he would have to understand that. Mothers always know. And he did, at least, he tried. It was hard to go from always saying future husband to future partner but he got the hang of it. You’re never too old to change your views and grandpa is the best example of that. He’s also very proud of his son-in-law for being so open about everything including sexuality, says that makes our relationship stronger and is the biggest reason he permitted your Dad to propose.”

"I don't even know what to say, that's kind of insane mom."

(y/n) laughed. The pain of her past has subsided over the years, and it was relieving to be able to recount it. "So insane. What else can I say about this? Two aunts were really rude about it and dad got so angry. It made me cry seeing him fight for me. After that, things just all worked out. It's still a hard topic, it took me forever to tell your dad. I thought he was going to be grossed out," (y/n) laughed again out of remembrance, cheeks warming from embarrassment.

"Mom! How could he, I'm sure he was the same as when you two met but dad would beat himself if he ever hurt you. And, that's really nice to hear about grandpa." June was amused over the change of topic and touched her mom was letting this information out.

"No, no. He's always been so attentive and needy," (y/n) giggled, June joining. "You should ask him about it, he's such a sap but that story especially gets a few tears out of him."

"Oh, definitely will do."

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

After the two had strolled around the mall a bit and found a few new pieces of clothing (what could (y/n) say, she had the tiniest shopping addiction) June opened up the conversation once more.

"So, how long does it take to know know."

"Oh babe, there's no number I can give you that works for everyone. You can't really but a timeline on these things. I will say there are stages, like definitely a questioning period, but you might not spend time experimenting with labels or you will. It's really hard to say. Personally, it was like six-ish years for me?"

They continued to roam the store, June now looking at jeans with embroidered details. "Hm." She looked deep in thought, but not nearly as conflicted as Harry described her to be the night prior. "I'm thinking about it mom, and I might be sure about it."

As (y/n) moved June into her arms into a Styles' classic bear hug, she hummed in joy. "I am so happy to hear that baby. We are so proud of you, and you're still our same baby but you're developing your identity and we're just so proud to be your parents. Please, babe, don't worry about this, we're here always to defend you through anything. Although, half of our friends and family are gay or something too." (y/n) gave her a smirk, both chuckling at the situation. "Now, if we're done here maybe we can stop by your dad's fav strawberry dealer, he sent me a message he was craving some."

June followed her mom out of the store after deciding to buy the jeans, body warming at the thought of having what she considered to be the best parents in the world.

_____________________________________________________

Part two done! kinda obsessed with this storyline now, so let me know what else you want to see from this precious family. ily!

#harry blurb #harry styles #harry styles prompts #harry styles one shot #harry styles one direction #dad!h #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #dad!harry #fine line #hs1

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

Seals of the Lost - Chapter I

Summary: You and Henry cross paths, and the truth behind the disc Henry has is revealed.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,080

Warning: PG - RPF, Language, Magic, Stalking, Deception, Death, Light Bullying

Inspiration: This comes from several sources. XD

Author's Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for her wonderous Beta skills and helping me world build and world out my idea for this story!

Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist

After nearly a week of searching for information on the disc that came in the box his mother sent him, Henry finally found someone in central London, with a doctorate's degree in archaeology, that could potentially shed some light on what it was, and drove out to meet them.

“Mr. Cavill?” The archaeologist asked, coming out of his office.

“Yes.” Henry replied, politely extending his hand.

“I'm Dr. Rick O'Connell II.” He introduced himself, shaking Henry's hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Henry nodded, smiling softly.

“Your message said, you had a strange little artifact in your possession and would like to learn anything you could about it.” Dr. O'Connell said, showing Henry into his spacious and bright office.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

Henry confirmed, his eyes going to the glass cases, picture frames and artifacts hanging around Dr. O'Connell's office. The small spark inside of Henry that had once wanted to be an Egyptologist and Historian, before becoming an actor, flared to life as he approached one of the tall glass display cases, filled with artifacts from Egypt and a few that looked to be from Asia; one of which was a pale stone and gold jar with the head of Anubis.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Dr. O'Connell smiled, seeing Henry had been drawn to it, many people often were. “My grandparents were on the expedition that uncovered them.” He commented, stopping beside Henry.

“Seriously?” Henry replied, shaking his head and blinked at Dr. O'Connell with surprise.

“Yes.” Dr. O'Connell nodded, proudly. “My father, Alex, named me after my grandfather. My grandparents met shortly before the expedition and fell in love during it, married, and had him. They made a life of it and these are some of the artifacts from their expeditions together.”

“The others are from yours?” Henry asked, moving to another case.

“Yes, they are.”

Henry stared at the other objects for a moment longer, before turning towards him. “I'm sorry, I came here to talk to you about my object and I'm busy gawking at yours, like a schoolboy on a field trip.” He chuckled and blushed, quite abashed.

“It's quite all right.” Dr. O'Connell laughed, motioning towards a chair in front of his desk, before taking his own behind it. “So, let's take a look at what you have, Mr. Cavill.” He said, holding his hand out over his desk.

“Yes, right.” Henry nodded, taking the disc out of the protective pouch he had put it in and handed it over to him.

Dr. O'Connell frowned at the disc, turning it over in his hands as he observed it. “Well, I can tell you it's made of granite.” He said, pulling open a drawer in his desk to remove a small tape measure, then set the disc on his desk and took measurements of it. “Thirteen centimeters by thirteen centimeters.” He stood up next and crossed the room and gently laid the disc on a padded scale.

“And just under a kilogram in weight.” He returned to his desk and sat down, pulling out a magnifying glass next. “This symbol is quite strange.” He commented, holding the magnifying glass up to it.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Henry agreed with him, biting his lip as he watched him examine the disc. “It looks like some strange lizard.” He commented on it.

“Yes, a lizard.” Dr. O'Connell agreed, looking up from the magnifying glass and disc, in thought. “A dragon.” He nodded, looking back down at it. “A dragon's head, breathing out fire.”

“Does that mean something?” Henry asked, licking his lips and feeling his heart start to pound.

Dr. O'Connell set the disc and magnifying glass down. “There's this ghost story you hear, if you're in my line of work long enough, especially if you're out in the field digging around. My dad told it to me once, when I was a lad.” He started to explain to Henry, leaning back in his chair and staring out the large wall of windows to their left, with the muffle of traffic coming through from below.

“There used to be this group of people, an ancient civilization, that believed, heavily, in Dragons. It was said they were real-”

“The people or the Dragons?” Henry asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Both.” Dr. O'Connell chuckled at him. “As I was saying, they were real, and these people and Dragons lived together, as one. They supposedly did everything together and held highly sacred bonds to one another, giving the people powers, the ability to do magic, long life and many other things.”

“But, their main task, they kept the world at peace.”

“So, what happened to them?” Henry asked, shaking his head, not completely believing him, but enthralled by the story nonetheless.

“No one knows.” Dr. O'Connell shrugged. “There are theories. But, very few things have ever been found about them. I could fill a shoe box with what's been found on them. Most of what we know has been a story from an odd book or scroll, mythology or lore from some culture all across the world, pieced together. A few dusty unexplained bones that some scholar, archaeologist or theorist thinks belong with them.”

“Do you think this has to do with them?” Henry frowned, his brow pinched in conflict.

Dr. O'Connell rubbed his face, twisting back and forth in his chair, and stared at the disc. “I'm not sure.” He replied, honestly. “But, something in my gut tells me otherwise.” He admitted, letting out a huff of air.

“Is it all right if I take some photos of it, Mr. Cavill?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Of course, anything to help you identify what it is.” Henry nodded, eagerly.

Dr. O'Connell removed his mobile from his pocket and snapped several photos of the disc. “I'll contact some of my colleagues and send them the photos, see what they have to say about the artifact and what we can find out about it.” He said, picking it up and holding it out to Henry. “Once, and if,” He laughed, smiling. “we come to a conclusion on what it is, or isn't, I'll give you a ring and tell you.”

“I would really appreciate it.” Henry replied, taking the disc and tucking it back into its little pouch, before standing up and extending his hand out to Dr. O'Connell again. “Thank you.” He smiled, squeezing his hand.

“Have a good day, Mr. Cavill.” Dr. O'Connell smiled back.

“You as well.” Henry replied, before parting ways with him.

Dr. O'Connell moved over to his windows and watched the street below, chewing on his bottom lip until he saw Henry appear in the crowded sidewalk and turn down the street towards the parking garage he had parked his car in, then turned back towards his desk, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair.

“Molly, I'm going out.” He called out to his secretary, rushing down the hall towards the elevators.

Riding the lift down to the main floor, O'Connell rushed onto the street and the opposite way Henry had gone, frantically dialing a number on his mobile, before pressing it to his ear. “It's Rick O'Connell.” He said, when the line picked up. “You told me to call you, if I ever found anything that looked Dragonic.”

“Have you?” A raspy, deep voice replied on the other end of the line.

Dr. O'Connell pulled his mobile away from his ear and sent the connected number the photos he took of Henry's disc, then put the phone back to his ear. “I'm pretty sure.” He replied, out of breath.

“Do you have it with you?”

“No. I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. So, I let the guy that brought it to me, take it back with him.” He explained, getting a sick feeling in his stomach, stopped in his tracks and turned around, but didn't see anything behind him, but Londoners going about their daily business. “I can contact him and get it back, if you like?”

“That's not necessary, Dr. O'Connell.” The voice replied, their tone never changing. “Just give me their name and I'll take care of the rest.”

“His name is Henry Cavill.” Dr. O'Connell informed the voice, before the line went dead.

The air in the small meadow was cool and shaded by the clustered ring of trees that surrounded it, as a soft breeze stirred the short stemmed wild flowers in the tall grass, before a shimmering blue light glowed softly in the center of it, and a moment later, with a small rush, you stepped through and the glow dissipated.

You sighed, rubbing the glowing mark on your forearm, before pulling your sleeve down to cover it. A bark filled the air, before a massive black and white dog came tearing into the meadow through the trees and right up to you, his long pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

“Hey, there.” You smiled at him, as he barked several times and ran several circles around you. “You're a playful, little guy.” You chuckled at him, bending over to pet him as he came up to you, but turned sharply and ran off again. “Oh, you faked me out.” You roared, thoroughly amused by the dog's antics.

“Kal!” A deep voice shouted through the trees in the direction the dog had come from.

“Is that your name?” You asked, turning to see the dog busy going number two. “Kal.”

“Oh, hello.”

You looked away from Kal and faced the owner of the voice. “Hi, I'm guessing this is your dog.” You said to him, motioning behind you.

“Yeah. Kal, are you bothering this nice lady.” He asked the pup, a feeling of shy apprehension in his chest as you looked him over, waiting for your brain to click and realize who he was and start freaking out, asking for a photo and autograph from him.

“Oh, not at all.” You replied, chuckling as Kal ran up to you again, actually letting you pat him on the head this time, before dashing over to his owner.

“I'm Henry, by the way.” He introduced himself, with a sweet smile, realizing you either didn't recognize who he was or you were being polite enough not to freak out on him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Henry.” You replied, offering him your own name.

“I don't think I've seen you around before.” Henry commented, tilting his head at you. “Then again, I have just moved in a couple of months ago.” He blushed, biting the corner of his lip.

You chuckled at him, brushing your fingers through your hair. “I live just across the way.” You said, pointing in the opposite direction of the trees. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” You greeted him.

“Thanks.” Henry smiled at you, leaning down to rub Kal's ears. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, motioning around the meadow.

“Oh.” You blinked around the meadow, grasping for a reason. “I went to the little park that's nearby and dropped my house keys.” You grinned, giving off the vibe that you felt like a complete idiot for your mistake. “I've come looking for them, when I ran into your adorable pooch.” You said, looking at Kal.

“Do you need any help looking for them?” Henry offered, politely.

“I would hate to put you out.” You said, shaking your head at him, gulping.

“It's no issue at all.” He replied, shaking his head back at you. “It's not like I'm not going back that way.” He chuckled, tilting his body in that direction.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, then flexed your fingers at your side, like a wave, and the mark on your forearm warmed. “I suppose an extra pair of eyes would make the task go faster.” You giggled, biting your lip and berating yourself for not being more careful.

“Never hurts.” Henry grinned at you, laughing as Kal jumped up on him, putting Henry's forearm gently in his mouth and tried to pull him down. “Come on now, Bear. Let's help find her keys.” He said to him, wrangling his arm out of Kal's mouth and corralled him through the trees, where there was a small dirt path that edged around the ring of trees and his property.

“So, where did you move here from?” You asked, eyes glued to the ground in your key search.

“London.” Henry replied, his own eyes searching the tall grass at the edges of the path. “So much of my life is busy, fast paced and noisy, I just wanted a nice and quiet place, where I could go, that was relatively secluded, so I could relax and decompress.”

“I can understand that.” You nodded, licking your lips and glancing over at him. “There's something about having your own little world. A place to yourself, so you can be yourself, without the worry of others judging you and disrupting your peace.”

Henry paused and looked over at you, dumbfounded that you had nailed precisely how he felt about why he moved out of London and into the English countryside. “Exactly.” He replied softly, blinking and licking his lips, his heart pounding.

“Ah-ha!” You exclaimed, seeing the glint of sunlight on the silver ring key ring and hooked your finger through it. “Found them.” You grinned at Henry, holding them up for him to see. “Thanks for helping me.”

“No problem.” He smiled back at you, even though it didn't quite meet his blue eyes. “Um,” He bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder. “Would you like a cup of coffee or maybe some tea?” He asked, looking back at you, with a brow lifted in hope.

“I just live right there.” He said, pointing a thumb to the two story house behind him.

You looked between Henry to his house, then glanced down as Kal barked and bumped into your legs, like he was begging you to take his owner's invitation. Letting out a soft chuckle, you reached down and scratched Kal's back, making his back leg go wild.

“Sure, a cup of tea sounds nice.” You replied, looking up at Henry, kindly.

“Cool.” Henry grinned, relieved and excited.

The pair of you crossed his backyard and stepped onto his patio, before Henry politely excused himself and rushed through the sliding glass door into his house, leaving Kal to entertain you for several minutes, while he threw together a cup of coffee for himself and a mug of tea for you. He brought them out, setting down a little thing of sugar and creamer, unsure how you took your tea, before the two of you sat down at the little patio table he had set up out there.

“So, how long have you lived in the neighborhood?” He asked, sipping his coffee and lifted his brows at you.

“Not long.” You replied, holding your warm cup in your hands and giggled as Kal frantically dug a hole a short distance away. “A little more than a year.” You explained, taking a gulp of your tea, turning your eyes back to Henry.

“City life is not for you either?” Henry laughed, setting his coffee cup down on the patio table.

“I try to avoid it as much as possible.” You grinned at him, your eyes guarded.

“You're not from around here, are you?” He asked, tilting his head at you, brow drawn together. “Your accent is nothing I've ever heard before.” He commented, he had been trying to place it since encountering you in the meadow.

“No, I'm not.” You shook your head at him, shyly dropping your eyes to your teacup. “My family are kind of like gypsies. They travel around Europe a lot, living their own life, on their own terms. So, I've picked up bits and pieces growing up and it sorta mashed into an accent that doesn't really belong to a specific place.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“People always try guessing where I'm originally from with it, but never get it right.” You added, amused.

“So, what made you settle in England?”

You shrugged your shoulders at him, then smiled as Kal trotted over to you, dropping a filthy tennis ball into your lap. “I wanted to put down roots.” You replied, taking up the ball and tossed it for Kal.

“Plus, I got a good job here.”

“What do you do?”

“Mainly, I'm a dog walker.” You replied, taking the ball Kal brought back to you. “But, I do some dog sitting on the side as well.” You told Henry, throwing the ball for him again.

“That explains a bit of why Kal likes you so much.” Henry commented, watching Kal's mad dash for the neon yellow ball across the yard. “He usually doesn't bring his favorite ball to people he's just met.” He explained, watching Kal charge back towards you with the dirt and slobber covered ball in his mouth.

“I've always had an affinity with animals.” You smiled, gently wrestling the ball out of his mouth and giving another throw, a bit further this time, then shivered.

“Are you all right?” Henry frowned at you, seeing the soft tremor rock your body. “Are you cold?” He asked, it was a bit brisk outside.

“No, I'm fine.” You chuckled, sitting your almost empty cup down on the table in front of you and stood. “I should really be going. I have some work I need to be doing.”

“Oh.” Henry replied, saddened, and stood with you. “I shouldn't have kept you so long, I'm so sorry.”

“It's quite all right, Henry.” You assured him with a soft smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.” You told him and Kal as he returned. “And, thank you for helping me find my keys.”

“Of course.” He nodded, forcing a smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“See you, Kal.” You smiled at the Akita patting him on the head, then nodded to Henry and started back off towards the meadow.

You were just inside the ring of trees and about to roll up the sleeve of your shirt, when you heard feet on the path behind you, then the sound of Henry calling out your name, and yanked your sleeve down and turned around to see what it was he wanted.

“Are you all right?” You asked, lifting your brows at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, a little out of breath from running after you. “I was wondering, if you weren't busy and didn't mind, since he seemed to have really taken to you and everything.” He babbled on. “If you could take Kal on a walk for me, tomorrow?” He asked, biting the corner of his lip with shy uncertainty. “I have a bunch of work meetings I have to make and I don't want him to just get stuck around the house or digging even more holes around the property.” He explained to you.

You grinned at him, touched. “Sure, I'd love to.” You agreed, filling him with relief. “Do you have a specific time you would like me to come?”

“Um,” Henry frowned, his brow pinched as he looked at his smartwatch. “The main bulk of them are around noon. So, any time between then and one, if that works for you?” He said, looking back up at you.

“That'll work out fine.” You nodded, smiling.

“Excellent.” Henry grinned, his face lit up with excitement. “Just come round and knock.”

“Will do.” You assured him, amused that you could easily read his face and eyes. “I'll see you tomorrow, Henry.” You chuckled and turned on your heels and continued on into the meadow.

“I can't wait.” Henry replied after you, giddy and nervous.

You continued on through the meadow, unsure if Henry would still be standing in the ring of trees watching you walk in the direction you had told him you lived in. All you needed was for him to see through your ruse. So, you stepped into the furthest set of trees, glancing around to make sure no one was around to witness or stumble upon you leaving. Seeing the coast was clear, you yanked up your sleeve, rubbing the mark on your forearm with the heel of your palm and took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

“Open the way and return me home, Occam.” You called out through an invisible bond that connected you to your true home, like an umbilical cord between a mother and her babe.

The glitter of blue light illuminated the cluster of trees and brush around you, like it had in the middle of the meadow not an hour before, and taking another deep breath, you stepped through it and let it close behind you.

“Did you get it?”

You sighed and rubbed your face. “No, I didn't get it.” You replied, looking at your father. “I ran into an unseen issue.”

“And what issue was that?”

“The guy that has it.” You answered, rubbing the back of your neck.

Your father's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at your words. “He caught you in his home?”

“Thankfully, no.” You chuckled, patting him on the chest and walked by him. “I crossed through the pocket door, where we suggested I make it.” You explained as the both of you walked towards home. “But, no soon after I arrived, so did his dog. He's adorable too.” You quipped, smiling at the image of Kal in your mind. “He looks like a black and white bear, with a long curly tail!”

“Oh, if I could have brought him home with me-”

“Sweetheart.” Your father snorted, amused and patted you gently on the back. “I'd have to build a whole new world for all the animals you keep wanting to bring back with you.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“Tell me what happened.” He gently pressed you back onto the subject.

“Right.” You laughed, shyly. “Well, his dog showed up and he came after him.”

“You're sure it's the same man?”

“I am.” You nodded, heaving a tired sigh. “I saw him outside of that archaeologist's office yesterday morning.”

“Master Simperwill, we've gotten intel on a possible subject.”

Darius looked up from his desk. “A possible subject for what, Vena?” He replied, lifting a brow at her.

“Serpents.” Vena answered him. “An agent in the field, who's been tracking a known Serpent, Tate Forester, followed him to an office in London, England.”

“What kind of office, exactly?” Darius questioned her, his interest peaking.

“From what my agent gathered, he's an archaeologist with a doctorate's degree in the field.” Vena read off a tablet she was holding in her hand. “His knowledge is quite extensive as well, coming from a long line of archaeologists, explorers and historians. It seems he might even know some things about our culture.” She said, glancing up at her boss.

Darius leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Do we know why this Forester went to see the archaeologist?” He asked her, troubled.

“No, he lost track of Forester when he went inside the archaeologist's office.” Vena shook her head.

“What's this archaeologist's name?”

“Um...” Vena flipped through several of the papers clipped to her tablet. “Dr. Richard O'Connell.”

Darius let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his graying hair. “We'll need someone to go and investigate this Dr. O'Connell to find out what it is the Serpents want with him and what he knows about us.”

“I can get one of my agents on it right away, Sir.” Vena nodded at him, turning towards the door.

“No.” Darius replied, shaking his head, having already made up his mind.

“Sir?” She frowned, turning back to him.

“Have my daughter come to my office.” He told her, nodding his head. “Yes, have her come see me.”

“Right away.” Vena nodded back at him, finally leaving his office.

A knock sounded on Darius's door several minutes later. “Come in!”

“You asked for me?” You said, stepping into his office.

“I did.” Darius replied, grinning lovingly at you. “I have something I need you to do.”

“All right.” You nodded and approached his desk, plopping down in a chair in front of it. “What's on your mind?”

“I need you to go into the base world and learn what you can about an archaeologist, Dr. Richard O'Connell. Follow him and learn whatever you can from him.” Darius explained to you.

You blinked at your father, then shook your head at him. “Why?” You asked, frowning.

“Vena thinks he has dealings with the Order of the Serpents.” He replied, biting his lip, worriedly.

“You think a human is in league with the Order of the Serpents?” You echoed, leaning forward in your seat.

“I don't necessarily believe the Doctor is in league with them, but I'm sure they're using humans for their own means.” Darius sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “We need to know what they're using the human for. That's where you come in, daughter.” He explained to you, dropping his hand and looking over at you.

“You're the only one I trust to do it and who knows so much about the Serpents and the base world.”

You rubbed a hand over your face, holding your father's eyes. It was true, you knew a great deal about the Order of the Serpents and the base world, and not from sitting around your people's sanctuary world of Moros reading about them; though you have done your fair share of reading about them. A great deal of your knowledge about your people's enemy came from running into them, while in the human world, or what Morosians called it, the base world. Your job in Moros was keeping them safe, doing recon work in the base world and making sure the Serpents didn't find a way into Moros.

While it was assumed that Alaric had collapsed the world cave on all of Christos's followers the day Darius led the refugees through the door that Marcus, Coda and Ian had opened and closed behind them, before separating, scattering for the safety of the Seals they carried with them.

One man had actually survived, and would go on to create what would become the Order of the Serpents.

Knox Steelmane was ordered to be one of the four to stand by the mouth of the world cave to await Alaric Saintwatcher's arrival. He bounced from foot to foot beside his creature, Kayda, his bladder screaming, as they waited in the brisk air.

“Going to piss yourself, Knox?” One of the other Riders teased him, digging his elbow sharply in Knox's side, with a hearty laugh.

“Go to hell, Jonas.” Knox grumbled back, shoving at the older man away.

“Seems like you're already in it.” One of the other Riders ribbed him, grinning.

“Look!” Jonas yelled out, pointing to the skies overhead.

The group looked to where he was pointing and saw Alaric and Tila making their descent toward them and the mouth of the world cave. They clustered around Alaric and his creature after they landed and approached, closely following them inside.

“Where are the rest of your brats?” Christos's voice echoed over to Alaric.

Knox listened to Christos and Alaric bicker back and forth with each other, still fidgeting and trying to ignore the fact he still had to piss. But, it quickly became clear to him that he couldn't hold it any longer or he would be peeing his britches. So, pretending to look at something behind his creature, Knox sneaked outside, quickly rushing behind the nearest tree, pulling open the strings at the front of his trousers and started relieving himself. He was mid-stream when he felt the first tremor rock the ground, making him stumble and stagger on his feet, urine getting on his boots.

“What the hell was that?” He snapped, fumbling to quickly retie the strings of his pants, as another shock wave rocked the earth beneath his feet.

Abandoning the rest of ties to his pants, Knox tripped and fumbled back towards the world cave his companions and leader were still in. But, as he rounded the corner of a tall rock formation, sprinting down the path to the cave, he heard the screams of his friends and the creatures inside, he was forced to skid to a halt as the entrance collapsed, blocking his only way inside.

“No, no no!” He screamed, rushing up to the dusty rubble, tossing what he could lift out of the way, desperate to get back inside. “Kayda!” He screamed for his creature, feeling her terror and injury through their bond, like it was his own agony. “Jonas! Christos! Kayda!” He wailed, still tearing at the rocks blocking the entrance, cutting and hurting his hands on the jagged granite rocks.

“No.” He whimpered, dropping to his knees and slumping against the landslide, tears streaking through the dirt and dust covering his face, sobbing as he felt the painful flickering of Kayda's life force inside of him. “Don't go.” He begged her dwindling life, clawing at the dirt and rock around him, as if he could keep Kayda alive by sheer will.

“Please, don't go.” He whimpered. “I need you.” He sniveled, but felt the last thread of Kayda's life break and fade.

Knox dropped his head back and let out an agonizing, heart wrenching howl, his eyes glowing the moss green of Kayda's scales. Taking a few moments, Knox dragged himself onto his feet, his arms limp at his sides, but his shoulders were stiff with grief and anger, as was his dusty and tear-stained face.

A dark hatred encrusted Knox's heart that day, he vowed to make those that had followed Alaric and opposed Christos pay for killing them, turning Christos into a martyr and championed his cause. He drudged through the roads to the sanctuary Alaric and the others had stayed in, while the two sides battled. But, when he reached the gates, he found no guards, no one alerted to his presence and reacting to it.

Suspicious and careful, in case it was another ambush, Knox moved around the tall, stone wall of the building; he didn't see a single living soul, not a single Rider or Creature in sight. He made it to the south gate and found it ajar, his suspicion growing as he approached. Closing his hand around the pummel of his sword and slipping through the open gap, Knox pulled his sword, gripping it tight, as his eyes scanned the stone and wooden structures, the worn leather soles of boots squelching as he moved slowly through the ankle deep muddy pathways, but the only things that stirred were things blown by the wind. Lowering his sword, Knox let out a roar of anger, kicking a wooden crate and sending it flying across the street, then staked his sword in the mud.

“Where could they have all gone?” He huffed, pacing in his agitation.

Yanking his sword out of the ground and sheathing it on his hip again, he began picking his way through the buildings, looking for any clues to the group's whereabouts, when he found the war room Alaric, Darius and Marcus had been using during the conflicts, finding the maps and open books they had been referencing and studying before they put their plan into motion to stop Christos and take everyone to safety through the door into the new world.

Leaning over the table, Knox picked up one of the books and lifted a brow at the page it had been left on.

“Edward William's Theory.” He read at the top of the page, blindly pulling out a chair and sitting down as he read the material. “They can't possibly think this could work.” He huffed, tossing the book back onto the table, leaning forward to look at the maps, drumming his fingers on the table as he studied them. “But, where could they have gone, without people noticing that many Riders and creatures were on the move.” He reasoned with himself, reaching out to take up the book again, tapping his finger against the page.

Hell bent on finding out where the others went, Knox gathered every scrap of material that was on the table, every book, map and sheet of paper, whether they had connection to their plans or not. He studied them in and out and became convinced they had managed to replicate the theory. So sure of it, Knox created his own group of followers, the Order of the Serpents, to keep Christos plan alive to grant rightful control over the Riders and creatures, to rule over the world, as they felt they should.

But, first, Knox and his group of Serpents needed to discover where Marcus, Ian and Coda had vanished to with the three Seals that would open the door to Moros, and they had spent the last few centuries trying to track them down.

To no avail, until, a fated phone call from a certain archaeologist.

“All right, I'll leave right away, then.” You sighed, nodding your head at your father.

“Excellent.” Darius nodded back at you. “Try to stay out of trouble, hm?” He grinned at you, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“Who, me?” You grinned back at him, a similar sparkle in your own eyes. “Always.” You chuckled, standing. “I'm as troublesome as a church mouse.”

“Of course you are.” He echoed, huffing with amusement. “Now, I want you to go and see Vena, she has a majority of the details on the subject and she can suggest a place for you to pocket into.” He instructed you.

“Will do, papa.” You nodded, heading for the door.

“I want you back, as soon as you find out anything!” He added, calling out after you.

You made a motion with your hand, signaling to him that you heard what he said, before finding your way to Vena's office down the way. “My father said you have the details for my mission into the base world.” You said, lifting a brow at her.

“Yes.” Vena nodded, looking up from a map. “I was just looking for a place you could pocket into.” She explained, looking back down at the map, which you recognized as a map of London. “The archaeologist's office is just here.” She said, sticking a pin near the central part of London.

“I've been to several places around that area.” You commented, leaning over the map and narrowing your eyes at it. “I've created a pocket door into an establishment that's just here, more than once.” You explained, taking up a pin and poking it into the map several streets down from Dr. O'Connell's office.

“It's a big box store of theirs, they never notice me coming in and out of it.”

“Great.” Vena smiled up at you. “Then, that can be your point of entry and exit.”

“Is there anything else I need to know about this guy?” You asked, studying her.

“The archaeologist or the Serpent?” She asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Either? Both?” You replied, shaking your head.

“Well, the Archaeologist is one Richard O'Connell, he's quite distinguished in his occupation, as are several in his family. He doesn't seem to have any criminal or nefarious deeds and background that I or my agents could find.” Vena answered, shuffling papers around. “As for Tate Forester, the Serpent, his record is extensive. He has several arrests, some for theft, breaking and entering and assault. He's even done time.”

“So, he's a nasty one.”

“I've dealt with worse.” You commented, offhandedly, then glanced at one of the two clocks on Vena's wall. “It's almost seven am in the base world, I should get going.” You said, making a few calculations in your head.

“Yes, you should.” Vena nodded, biting her lip.

“Right.” You nodded back at her, smiling softly. “I'll see you later, Vena.” You chuckled, seeing yourself out of her office, then went to the house you lived in and changed into an outfit that would allow you to blend in with the humans, and a small backpack of items you might need. “Hey, Occam.” You smiled, stepping outside and happily greeting your creature as he landed before you.

“I've got some business to do in the base world.” You told him, stroking his snout. “I shouldn't be gone for too long.” You said, opening the bond between the pair of you. “You behave and don't go bullying Mundu, while I'm gone either.” You added, smirking at his huff and the rattle of his scales as he shook his mighty head at you.

“All right, Occam, let's open a portal.”

You pulled up the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing and pressed your palm to his head, both your and Occam's eyes closing, feeling the warm tingle of your shared magic undulating between you. A gentle breeze stirred around the two of you, the mark on your forearm grew warm and glowed as the bright blue pocket door opened beside you. Patting Occam, you turned and stepped through the portal, then with a rush and a pop in your ears, you found yourself in a cramped dressing cubicle with mounted full-length mirrors on three sides and discarded clothes and hangers strewn about.

Turning, you opened the latch to the door and stepped out of the changing room, pausing for a moment to watch the oblivious shoppers, pushing their carts, stopping at racks of clothing or purchasing their items. Sighing, you slipped into the flow of the crowd and out the front doors to the street, taking a moment to orient yourself and headed in the direction of O'Connell's office.

You looked up at the tall office building and headed inside, checking the nameplates for what floor the archaeologist was on, then bypassed the lifts, having no trust in them, and took the several flights of stairs to the third floor. Coming out on the floor, you glance around, finding a young blonde woman sitting behind a desk, flipping through a magazine, seemingly unaware of your presence, as you approach her, forcing you to clear your throat twice to get her attention.

“Can I help you?” She asked, sticking her nose up at you with extreme distaste.

“Is Mr. O'Connell in?” You asked, narrowing your eyes back at her.

“No, he is not.” She huffed, picking her magazine back up. “He won't be in for at least three hours. He's teaching a two-hour class in Oxford's School of Archaeology this morning at six am, then it's an almost hour and a half train ride back here to London for him.”

You looked up at the clock on the wall above her head, it was just past seven, meaning you had hours before O'Connell showed back up at his office for regular work. “Thanks.” You sighed, but she was already absorbed in her magazine again.

Making your way back downstairs, you popped back out onto the street and turned left, following the flow of foot traffic and shops down to the local Starbucks, to order yourself a tall, blended Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino with whip cream, paying for it with the money you made from a few business dealings you had done, using your skill for tracking and finding people to your advantage in the base world, since Moros didn't have any money or currency. They shared, grew or created what they needed to survive and thrive. It enabled you to have real human money in your pocket, so you could buy things, like coffee from the famous Starbucks, you had seen countless humans carrying around with them, or to buy something to eat, even bring things back to Moros, even different clothes and books. Many types of technology from the base world didn't work in Moros, so you never bothered buying a mobile phone or a laptop.

Though, you had always yearned for one.

Having your coffee in hand, you went back to O'Connell's office building, opting to sit in the building's lobby to wait for his return. Putting your backpack on the floor between your feet and pulling out the novel you had been reading, you slowly sipped on your drink as you thumbed through it; killing the time until Dr. O'Connell arrived from Oxford to his office.

Your coffee was gone and your leg and butt-cheek were starting to fall asleep by the time the door to the building opened, admitting a group of four people, two men and two women. You lifted a brow at them, but kept your eyes on your book, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

“Your lecture was amazing, Dr. O'Connell.” One of the women commented as the group approached the lifts.

You lifted your eyes, watching the two males, to see which of them answered.

“Thank you, Kimmy.” The taller of the two men, with graying blond hair and a pudgy middle replied, smiling at her and pressing the button for the third floor.

You shifted in your seat, watching the group pile into the lift and ride it up. Now that you knew what the good archaeologist looked like, it made your job of tracking him a lot easier. A few minutes later the two girls and the guy came back down in the lift, chatting and holding a copy of a book with O'Connell's face on the back of it; no doubt something written on his career and life. Watching them go out the door, you got up and used the bathroom that was in the lobby, before coming back out and took your seat again, intent on waiting there until O'Connell left for either his lunch break or to go home.

An hour later, the ding for the lift doors echoed through the lobby, catching your attention, as a tall, dark and curly haired man stepped out of them. He was handsome, for sure, but that wasn't the tingle that drew you to him as he walked by you, towards the front doors. There was something about him that called out to you, that made you want to stand up and follow him out of the building, to wherever it was he was going; and you didn't understand why. But, as soon as he was out of the building and you could no longer see him, the tingle flowing in your spine vanished, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded.

It wasn't five minutes later that Dr. O'Connell came flying through the lobby, his long coat billowing behind him as he yanked his mobile out of his pocket, frantically dialing a number on it. You waited a moment for him to get out onto the street, before stuffing your book back into your backpack and got up, swinging it onto your back, slipping your arms through the straps, and looking left and right, before catching sight of him and dashing in that direction.

You kept at a reasonable distance from Dr. O'Connell, but still close enough to hear him speaking to whoever it was he called.

“It's Rick O'Connell.” He was saying, walking quickly in his agitation. “You told me to call you, if I ever found anything that looked like Dragonic.”

“Dragonic.” You mumbled to yourself, frowning.

“I'm pretty sure.” Dr. O'Connell was explaining to his caller. “No. I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. So, I let the guy that brought it to me, take it back with him.” He said, suddenly stopping and turning around, but you casually walked by him, as if nothing was amiss. “I can contact him and get it back, if you like?” He said, frowning to himself and started walking again.

“It was a disc shaped object, with a dragon on it.” He described the object he had called them about. “A man brought it to me, his name is Henry Cavill.”

Your ears perked up at the name and the description of the object. Biting your lip, you picked your pace and headed back towards the department store you had used to enter the base world, sneaking back into the same dressing room and opened a pocket door back to Moros.

“Father!” You shouted, rushing into his office.

“I'm here, I'm here, daughter!” He called back, appearing. “What is it? What's happened? Are you all right?” He asked, looking you over, urgently.

“I'm well.” You assured him, out of breath. “I come with news.”

“Well, sit and catch your breath first, child.” He told you, ushering you to a seat and bringing you a warm cup of tea, with a splash of something stronger in it. “Now, tell me. What is it you've learned?” He asked, leaning back against his desk in front of you.

“I found the archaeologist in his office building, it was easy enough.” You told him, slowly sipping your tea and taking slow, deep breaths. “I had to wait some time for him to show up, he was doing work for one of the base world's schools. But, once he did arrive, it didn't take long for something to happen.” You explained to him.

“And, what did you find?”

“The man, a Henry Cavill, he said his name was...”

“You talked to these men?”

“No.” You shook your head at him. “I talked to only his secretary, to see if he was in. That's how I found out he was not in, at the time. But, Dr. O'Connell wasn't back in his office long after his teaching engagement, when he apparently had a client bring him something. I didn't see the meeting or the object. But, when I saw the man leaving, I felt oddly attracted to him and not because he was handsome either.” You chuckled, hiding your shy smirk in the rim of your cup.

Darius rolled his eyes at you. “The object, did they describe it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Dr. O'Connell left his office soon after the man, Mr. Cavill, left. He made a phone call to someone. Apparently, he's meant to call them, if he encounters anything, Dragonic, and described the object Mr. Cavill brought to him.”

“It was a round disc with a dragon on one side of it.”

Your father's face fell, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Dragons.” He whispered, pushing off his desk and began pacing his office.

“It's what they call our creatures.” You said, watching him. “Dragons.”

“Yes.” He nodded, stroking his bearded chin and pinched his bottom lip, as he brooded. “Did the archaeologist have the disc on him?”

“No.” You shook your head. “He said, Cavill still had it with him, because he wasn't sure if the object was the real thing or not.”

Darius turned back to you. “You said, when this Cavill was leaving, you were drawn to him, and not just because of his looks.”

“Yes, I wanted to follow him, to go with him. There was a tingle up my spine, like the feeling I get when I use my magic with Occam.” You explained to him, frowning and tilting your head at him.

“By the Order,” Your father gasped. “He's in possession of one of the Seals.”

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heavenunderthemoon · 3 years

Text

Dollface

Summary: After the death of her two brother, reader feels as though she must become the perfect child. She reaches her breaking point at a night at Rossi’s.

Warnings: mentions of suicide, depression, angst Your fingers grabbed at another stray hair, a desperate attempt to make an escape as you smoothed the rest into a nice, sleek ponytail. Grabbing it, you tucked it under the hair tie, breathing deeply through your nose as you stared back at the reflection.

You didn't like staring into the mirror. Staring into the mirror meant seeing your eyes, a rather odd statement when you really thought about it, but the reason you hated it all the same. You had to stare into those brown orbs, brown orbs you had inherited from your mother, and ones she had passed down not only to you, but to Ethan as well.

Ethan.

The name sent a shiver through your body.

He had passed just when you both had turned nine. He had been struggling for a while, ever since you could remember actually. For years, you had accompanied him on doctor appointments, consults after consults. Alex Blake was no quitter, and she had fought tooth and nail to find someone- anyone- to save her boy. In the end she hadn't succeeded. He had passed in his bed, only a couple feet away from you. Sometimes you could still hear her sobs, her wails of agony after she had found him, a mother losing her son, her baby. Sometimes it felt as though you had lost her that day too.

You forced the tips of your mouth to lean upward, the motion looking so foreign on your face that you couldn't help but stare. A smile. A true smile. When was the last time you had one of those? You recalled the time before Ethan started presenting symptoms, a time before his illness, before the unrelenting sadness that ran rampant throughout your house. Before your mother was driven insane, a linguist unable to name the one thing she hated so much, the one thing that took away one of her children. Before your father ran off, escaping to different countries under the guise of Doctors Without Borders. You knew why he really took that position, that he was so driven by his grief of losing Ethan that he ran off to find children he actually could save. And your mother? She didn't get much better. When she had lost Ethan she had lost a part of herself you weren't quite sure she would ever get back. A carefree, laid-back part of her, one that wouldn't run to the emergency room every time you had a cough. One that wouldn't demand an MRI every time you needed a physical checkup. One that didn't watch you so closely, close enough that you could feel her stare on you, whenever you played on the playground with the other children. Before the stares were less loving, more analytical, and every goodbye felt like your last.

Your lips dropped down, eyes remaining on yourself.

Nothing was wrong with you of course, but your mother could never be sure. Losing one child was enough, the fear of losing her second drove her over the edge.

And so, you played along.

You pretended you didn't want to play baseball with the kids in the neighborhood, taking a liking to books instead. You pretended you didn't want to go out, or play in the rain, or step in puddles, or touch frogs. Childhood was non-existent, and for you, that was just how it had to be, because you didn't want to drive her mother any madder than she already was.

Your hands dropped to your sides, smoothing the sides of your pants with your hands, a nervous tick, but comforting nonetheless.

An evening at Rossi's. The invitation alone was enough to make you want to scream.

As awful as it sounded, you hated when your mother was home. Since you had turned seventeen, you were trusted enough to stay home alone when your mother was out on cases, so long as you FaceTimed every night and the neighbors could check on you in the morning. And, with your father away you were left to your own devices. You relished in the feeling of being alone. You liked being able to emerge from your room without that heaviness dragging you down, the weight of your mother's morbid stare, the one that made you think that perhaps you were dying and you just didn't know it, enough to make you feel an onslaught of loneliness. When your mother was gone, you were able to watch tv with the volume all the way up, or order pizzas with extra cheese. You could let the dishes pile up and leave the laundry to fester.

And then when your mother came home it felt like everything in the air was sucked up all over again. Like all the walls were caving in, the world was ending, and once more you were dying.

"Y/N! Time to go!"

You glanced at yourself one more time. Clothes ironed perfectly, a crisp button down tucked into a pleated skirt, hair pinned and proper. A doll. A perfect little doll ready to be played with.

You turned off the bathroom light, grabbing your purse.

"Coming, Mother."

"My mom speaks very highly of you all, it's nice to finally meet you." You spoke with a sense of tranquility that the team wasn't quite expecting. Though, to be honest, they weren't precisely sure what to expect when they had caught wind that Alex was finally bringing her daughter to an event. Typically, you were too busy.

Studying for school, babysitting for children around the neighborhood, getting ahead in your classes, attending chess club, book club, anything and everything that had made their lips part, eyebrows furrowing because you were just a child but the way she spoke about you made you seem so...refined. Independent. Not a child.

Your peers had said the same things- behind your back, of course. You didn't have many friends. Being the perfect child didn't give you much time to make those, and you weren't good at it anyways. The teachers had always praised you, admiring you for your perfectionism. Your straight A's, good temperament, and ability to surpass the school's curriculum had you earning your teachers' result rather quickly but it had soon turned to sympathy. They had begun to notice how your posture was always straight, how your pens were always in alignment, how you never spoke unless answering an academic question.

Sometimes, they would watch you, just to see if you would suddenly sneeze and ruin that perfect mirage that you displayed to the world. But you never did, not really. You were a doll. You were picture perfect and they had previously found that quality a little endearing but now they just felt pity, because how many times had that doll felt like she wasn't enough in order to make it appear as so?

Met with enthusiasm, you smiled along as the night progressed, making light conversation with your mother's team. They were nice enough, and you tried not to let along how painful your smiles began to be. It wasn't long before you had excused yourself to a smaller room, bringing out the school work you had brought along to get out of the way.

it was an art project, your least favorite subject. Art, your teacher had stated, is an expression of emotion. There were no rules, no tips, no studying to help you along. Either you had it, or you didn't. You definitely did not.

The noise of the party chattered against your brain as your teeth began their assault against your lip, biting down hard as your eraser grated against the paper once more. With a frustrated grunt, you tried again, the circle coming out just as uneven as the last time.

Spencer must've noticed you out on the patio by yourself. He excused himself from the party, approaching you slowly.

"Hey."

You knew he was being nice. He was mingling and from what you mother had told you about him he didn't do it often so you were trying your very best to not snap at him, your agitation at an all time high due to the failure of your art project.

"Hello."

Your eyes were still on your paper, trying to salvage something- anything- from this artwork but it was futile. Every time you added something it made it worse and every time you removed something it looked empty and you were beginning to get frustrated. You hated art, you wanted to drop it, but it was a requirement. A stupid, useless class, in your opinion (though maybe it was biased due to your inability to do it). Your heart rate quickened at the thought of getting anything lower than an A on this piece. Your grade was already at a 92, that in itself was enough to make your head spin but what if you got a B on this work and it brought your overall grade down? What if you received your first ever B? What would your mother say then?

Spencer was watching you with curious eyes. He saw a bit of himself in you ever since you had arrived, though that isn't all a good thing. He saw an intelligent, capable girl who put far too much pressure on himself. A girl who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. A girl who refused to ask for help.

And now, your breaths becoming ragged and eyes unfocused, he saw you, really saw you. Your eraser was grinding against there paper and in your anger it ripped it, your lips parting at the action. As bad as it had been this was even worse because now you sound have to start over.

Starting over meant setting you back at least three days in work and you were supposed to have this assignment done by tonight to get ahead for other classes tomorrow.

"Y/N? Y/N you need to breathe, take a break from you're homework, it's okay-"

You had forgotten that Spencer was there in all honesty, but now that he was speaking you whipped toward him.

The words seemed to cut through you like a knife and you shot an incredulous look at the man. "Okay? It's not okay! I can't take a break because I needed to get it done by tonight! I need to write a paper and get ahead in physics so that I can make time for babysitting, and attend lectures, and sit in on mom's classes and-"

Your hands were balled now, clenching into fists and Spencer was reaching for them.

"Look at me, take a breath-"

"This stupid art project, it didn't look good-"

"It looked fine-" Spencer tried, and he could tell that the two of you were attracting attention now because he could feel eyes flitting to the back door windows and he knew for certain that Alex would be here soon but none of it seemed to register for you because your eyes were far too panicked and cheeks too flushed.

"It can't be just fine, it needs to be perfect!" You broke. Your voice was louder than you had ever used with an adult and if you weren't so far gone in your breakdown you surely would've apologized. The eraser in your hand dropped, fists unclenching to cover your ears because your thoughts were too loud. They were always too loud. Constant planning, scheduling ahead. Worries about your parents, your reputation, your next step. It came crashing over you.

Later, you would realize you were sobbing but for now, you were left to wonder why your throat was so sore.

"Y/N, you need to breathe, okay? Breathe. It doesn't need to be perfect, you're okay-"

Alex was relieving Spencer, and he retreated back into the house with a reassuring nod from Alex. The team sent worried looks, but looked away to give the two of you privacy. You hardly even noticed the change.

"Hey." Alex was taking your hands from your ears, eyes wide. She had never seen you like this, never seen you so distraught and it scared her. It terrified her to see you in such a state because, clearly, you weren't okay and you hadn't been for a while and how did she miss this? It scared her because ever since she could remember you had been such an easy child. A child who didn't ask for help, a child who didn't cry, who didn’t yell, who didn't ask for things. And was that a result of her?

"Hey, look at me. Look at me." Her finger was going under your chin, forcing it upward, forcing your eyes on hers and she was accentuating her breaths, making you take them with her. "What's going on, hm? Whats' going on, talk to me."

Maybe it was the softness in her tone, or the woe in your eyes, or maybe it was just exhaustion from constantly trying to be...everything and anything your mother could ask for, but you chose to tell the truth.

"I have to be perfect." And it was quiet. You could hear the water fountain somewhere far to your left, something Rossi apparently had put in two years ago, but you couldn't see it over the hedges. Alex rose a brow, not understanding and so you continued. "I have to be perfect...for you."

And the Blake woman was gasping because how could her daughter even think that? How could she not see that her daughter was thinking that? "Honey, no-"

But you weren't letting her finish. "Yes, I do. I have to be the perfect child because you lost the other one. And I," You swallowed, sighing softly. "I can't be him for you."

"W-what?"

"Ever since he died I- he-...you were different. You and Dad both were, and I just wanted to make you happy so I tried to be good, I tried to be the best kid so that you wouldn't feel any sadder than you did."

"Oh, baby, you didn't have to do that-"

"Yes I did. When he died it was like every time you looked at me I was already dead I just didn't know it. I've been dead for years. I think I might've died with him."

And you were breathing steadily now. You chest wasn't as tight, your mind wasn't as foggy but now your eyes were filled with tears. You cried because you had wanted to say these words for so long, you had wanted your mother back for an eternity snd now she was listening, now you were going to surrender yourself to imperfection.

"I never meant to make you feel like that, please-"

The tears fell across your cheeks, splayed out like a beautiful painting, a masterpiece created by you, a girl who thought that she was a horrible artist. Perhaps you weren't as horrible as you thought.

"I wish it was me instead of him. Because I can't take it. I can't keep doing this-"

Alex was shaking her head, gripping your cheeks in her hands now, because the words you were saying made it sound like she might lose you, made it sound like you might just dissolve under her touch. And all she felt right now was dread. "Don't say that."

"The classes, the perfectionism, I'm...I'm just so tired."

"Baby, please. I'm, I'm so sorry." And that thought entered your mind once more, that perhaps you were a wonderful little artists because kneeling before you now was a tragically beautiful piece of art. A grieving mother, wet cheeks piling up by the minute, eyes filled with some kind of morose morbidity and that was something you had created.

"I'm a perfect little girl in a perfect little house. We all play pretend that Ethan didn't exist-"

"Y/N Y/M/N." Alex was trying, begging you to stop because it hurt. It pained her because Ethan died of something no one knew about but you? You were dying because of her.

"It's alright. I'm just so tired of all the pretending. I wish Ethan and I could swap places, because then he could be playing pretend and I can just...relax."

Where to go from here? The two of you sat on that patio under the watch of the stars, under the protection of the moonlight. What might happen when the sun touched your faces once more?

You doll wasn't so perfect anymore. Perhaps she would never be again.

TAGLIST: @bubblyabs @spencer-blake-supremacy

#Alex Blake #Alex Blake x reader #Alex Blake x daughter!reader #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

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yerawizardjulia · 3 years

Text

Too Rich for a McNugget (Wolfstar)

A university student enters an antique shop in a panic. How do you buy a wedding gift for a cousin you hate?

Sirius wouldn’t have looked twice at the dusty shop if he wasn’t stupidly, desperately late. The high street itself was laughing at him and he was uncomfortably aware of the scrubby guy on the bench that had definitely seen him walk past the same shop window three times in a desperate attempt to see anything other than tea towels and obnoxiously cheerful decorated mugs with ‘World’s best dad’ printed on the sides in Comic Sans. His fingers were slippery in anxious sweat as he pressed the home button on his phone, his iPhone six, another reason his presence would be scorned at this godforsaken gathering. The smudgy screen blinked into life and displayed, seemingly smugly after Sirius’ growing resentment towards the device, 12:42.

Twenty fucking minutes. If he didn’t show up with a gift he might as well not show up at all, an option he would have embraced wholeheartedly if his mother hadn’t pincered him into a corner at their last, regularly depressing routine coffee catch up and told him the deeds to his inheritance were under considerable threat if he did not attend. He wouldn’t have minded, but being twenty grand in debt to an English degree in a rented apartment with black mould creeping onto the ceiling made him reconsider his options.

Fucking Narcissa.

He wouldn’t have been looking forward to the wedding even if she wasn’t marrying a right wing, Eton-educated, ‘can’t control these blasted immigrants’ CEO of whateverthefuck that looked as though he’d never even touched an item of clothing that didn’t come from Armani. It was so typical of his cousin to find a man who deferred so minimally from their shared families’ frankly alarmingly consistent Tory heritage that Sirius had had to do some extensive Googling to confirm that Lucius Malfoy was not in fact, a not-so-distant relative.

A text buzzed in his hand, the little green notification welcome on the screen. At least it was an excuse to loiter outside this shop window for another minute or so without looking like a genuine psychopath.

‘Just get her a toaster or something idk.’

Sirius hadn’t really expected James’ solution to his predicament to be helpful, but his flatmate’s response nevertheless sent the hopeless feeling in his stomach a few inches lower. He had never expected for his future to be balanced on the purchase of a wedding gift, but he would almost prefer to sit his first-year exams, which he had taken with a hangover so severe it felt like he was going to vomit out of his eyeballs, all over again than have to look at this shop window for a second longer. He pictured sitting in a gutter in London, like the tramps that his mother refused to make eye contact with during their trips out during his childhood, drinking from a bottle wrapped in brown paper and thinking; if only I had gone with the luxury jam set. He had discarded the idea after noticing the Tesco’s Finest logo above the barcode, but it was beginning to look like his best option.

Another text. No, a call. Sirius shoved the phone back into his hoodie he was using to mask the aristocratic wedding attire beneath. Keepers of pretentious little shops such as the ones lining this dusty high street tended to bump their prices through the roof if they saw someone of his blood walk in. Old blood. Old money. It was unfair, really, because Sirius didn’t actually have any. If he did, he probably wouldn’t mind paying the exorbitant prices; James spent half his life agonising over how independent businesses were being suffocated by Amazon. But Sirius had nothing to his name until his dear grandparents decided to snuff it. The phone ceased buzzing waspishly in his pocket, and he decided he had better check who he was ignoring.

Typical fucking Regulus.

Probably the only human being under twenty that actually went out of his way to call people, rather than text. He would be there already, exchanging pleasantries in the foyer of the Malfoy’s third manor home. Checking to see whether the Black family disappointment was showing his face, or if he’d have to rely on his six predicted A* grades and brand new Porsche that probably cost more to insure than it did to buy to present himself as the golden child. He’d probably have a stupid little flower in his stupid little button hole. Being a cousin of the bride and a groomsman of the groom, Regulus had firmly nestled himself already into this hideous conjunction of families. He had a job lined up for him in Malfoy’s London branch. In six months, he’d probably have his own office.

Sirius had diluted his shampoo with water for the second time this morning.

He scowled and kicked a bottle cap along the pavement as he stumped, once again, down the row of shops. The circular metal projectile skittered across the tarmac and bounced off a door frame. He stopped, staring suddenly at the sign swinging on a pair of metal hooks like it was a medieval fucking tavern.

Fletcher’s Quality Gifts and Trinkets.

Somehow, inexplicably, Sirius’ eyes had slid over this shop four times as he’d panicked his way up and down this stretch of pavement. There was no window display, that was why. The door fit seamlessly between Bobbin’s Haberdashery and a derelict Cafe Nero. Sirius felt his phone buzz again and suppressed the urge to throw it into the path of the lazy, midday traffic crawling its way up the high street. He stared at the chipped paint and begged silently, to whatever entities may have been listening, that he would find something, anything to take to this fucking wedding.

The door jammed awkwardly on the floor as Sirius pushed it open. It made a juddering, dry squeak, scuffing on the splintery wood. Sirius winced, and half thought about just turning tail and walking out again, going back to pick up that cheap-as-shit jam set. Narcissa probably didn’t even eat jam. Was jam vegan?

He had to push his way in sideways, and as he did so, the door unstuck, swinging open and leaving him standing, pointlessly squashed back against the door frame. Sirius closed his eyes and wondered whether anything was going to go right today.

When he opened them, a guy was blinking at him from behind a checkout desk. A book was open on the surface before him and his long legs with too short trousers that showed a few inches of garishly coloured socks were rested upon the desk next to the till. He removed them hastily to the floor as Sirius stared.

“Sorry, the door- It gets stuck- you have to like-“ He mimed something that Sirius couldn’t even begin to relate to unsticking a door. “Sorry,” he finished, lamely. He bent over his book. Sirius peeled himself from the frame, not taking in the low beams that he would probably hit his head on or the items grouped together in nonsensical piles on the shelves and stacked on the floor.

This guy was gorgeous. He had an odd collection of features that were nothing special, when you looked at them individually- a nose that listed to the left, a thin top lip, a smattering of pigmentation on his cheeks that suggested acne that had been grown out of- but together... Sirius couldn’t stop staring at him. That tawny hair- fucking tawny, who am I, William pissing Wordsworth?- That sharp chin, those long fingers that teased the edge of the paper as he finished reading his page.

He was absolutely, fundamentally, not Sirius’ type. Any romantic entanglements he had had- and granted, it was not a long list (he and James had one sellotaped to the fridge)- involved men so deep in the closet they were practically choking on mothballs. They were footballers, mostly, insecure, ‘just experimenting’. Sirius didn’t know why his gaydar was sounding off so strongly. Was it the deeply uncool granddad jumper that somehow looked like it belonged in Men’s Vogue when draped over his long torso? Sirius was hardly modest about his own looks, but if he tried that jumper on he would look like the kid that forgot his P.E. kit. The same went for the not-skinny, not-baggy jeans that looked as though they were made for literally anyone other than him but somehow, looked really cool and why did Sirius love those hideous socks so much? Did they have pineapples on them?

The guy, seemingly unaware of Sirius lurking behind the shelf closest to the door, propped the book up in his hands, and Sirius read the title- The Picture of Dorian Grey.

Well, there it is.

“IneedapresentforacousinIhatewho’smarryingaguythathasprobablynevereatenaMcDonald’schickennugget.” Sirius was hardly more aware of the words projectile vomiting from his mouth than he was of the way he was sidling towards the checkout desk with his hands wringing in front of him like he was expecting this guy to stand up and shout at him.

Brown eyes emerged from behind the finest work of Oscar Wilde, carrying a look of mild alarm.

“Because, he’s rich, not a vegetarian.” Sirius finished. His mouth seemed a long way behind his brain, but perhaps that was a good thing, because his brain was currently screaming FUCK ME and Sirius was not willing to be barred from any more establishments for hedonistic behaviour.

“A wedding present?” His voice was mild, like Sirius had just asked a perfectly normal question for a stranger to ask a shop employee.

“Uh, yeah.” Why was he blushing? He never blushed. He stepped back needlessly as the guy rose from behind the desk. He was tall. Proportionately tall, with long limbs and a long neck and long god knows what else. Sirius nearly fell to his knees in reverence when the guy cracked a smile that caused a dimple to poke in his cheek and exposed sharp canines that Sirius never considered worth noticing in anyone before but holy fuck he would be now.

“You know what, I think I’ve got something.” He was walking away down one of the dark-ish isles, stooping considerably to avoid the beams and Sirius was trailing after him, awkward and out of place and acting so drastically not like himself he wondered if he had sustained a concussion at some point. Maybe when he was forcing his way through that rude fucking door. The hair at the nape of this guy’s neck curled slightly like he was due a haircut. His trainers were really beat up and old, and Sirius was sure he could see one of the laces fraying and considered whether he should warn him he was about to trip.

“When is this wedding?” His voice was still mild and almost disconcertingly polite; he had stopped and was rummaging among a pile of objects on a shelf-seriously, how was anyone supposed to find anything in here?- and Sirius was still staring at his trailing shoelace.

“Well, sort of now.”

He stood up a bit straighter as the brown eyes widened, and he was looking at him, properly, for the first time and Jesus Christ, how were you supposed to stand normally? Where were your arms supposed to go? Eyebrows, light brown and shapeless and a bit sparse at the ends, furrowed and he let out a small huff of amusement. It was the politest expression of ‘this dude’s a complete disaster’ that Sirius had ever seen. “I’ve been putting it off,” he added needlessly. Something about the way this guy was now looking him up and down as if he could read his life story just from Sirius’ tailored trousers that he’d forgotten to get dry cleaned and his hoodie that was actually James’ and his shoes that looked expensive but were actually from TKMaxx was making him need to offer increasingly poor explanations for his shambles of a life. “I don’t want to go, but I have to, and I hate weddings anyway, but especially this one, and I-‘

The look of curious amusement on the guy’s face- god, Sirius really wanted to know his name- halted his rambling. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m not normally this stressed.”

“That’s okay,” he replied, as if it was his job to tolerate a load of garbled nonsense from strangers, like he did it regularly, in fact, which made him wonder what kind of people actually came into this shop that you could barely tell existed. He was still rummaging through the shelves, Sirius was pretty sure a couple of things had fallen off the back and were now in the dark recesses of the between-shelf-and-wall space where things went to die. God, did anyone ever actually buy anything in here? He found it easier to control himself when the guy stopped x-raying him with his eyes, so he said “er, how long’s this shop been here?”

“Oh, I’ve only worked here six weeks. No idea, ages, probably.” He picked up a remarkably creepy porcelain figure of a shepherdess that was covered with so much dust that at first glance, Sirius thought it was some kind of radioactively-deformed elephant.

“I see what you mean,” said Sirius, staring at the figurine reproachfully. “How does anyone find anything in here?” The questions were not what he actually wanted to ask, which involved something along the lines of are you gay-are you single-are you safe from asbestos in this shop and do you think I’m a complete weirdo. He perked up when the guy let out another polite huff of laughter.

“Most customers have been coming in here for years,” he said, “I don’t see a lot of new people.” His eyes flickered to Sirius and back again and Sirius felt as if he was preparing to dive from a very large boat into a sea that was very cold.

“What’s your name?” Sirius asked, louder than he had meant to. He cringed inwardly and for the second time, considered legging it out of the door when he was once again regarded by a pair of searching brown eyes.

“Remus,” he said. Sirius could tell he was waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, because how the fuck could this man get any more attractive, and somehow the name Remus suited him down to his shredded laces, he turned to face him, as if in defiance.

“Hilarious, I know. Remus Lupin, which makes it even better.” Sirius’ resolve cracked at this.

“What?” He squawked, dragging his eyes over Remus again, because he looked like any novelist's wet dream and his name was Remus fucking Lupin... “Mine’s worse.” Sirius said, straightening again. Remus Lupin was rolling his eyes as if in grim acceptance of the barrage of snide jibes that had yet to tumble from Sirius’ mouth, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair at Sirius’ response and his arms were folded across his chest, which pulled the loose neck of his jumper down and exposed a few inches of pale sternum.

“I don’t believe you.”

Sirius grinned at this. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand out of the pouch/pocket/thing on the front of his hoodie which was definitely not a secure place for his phone, wallet and keys, and held it out.

“Sirius Black. Pleasure to meet you.” Remus’ mouth had fallen slightly open and a smile was touching at the corners of his lips as he took Sirius’ hand. Sirius was almost surprised that there was no jolt of electricity from all the built up static in his woollen jumper, but his skin was cool and his fingers were thin and twiggy and the knuckles were surprisingly big, and he didn’t drop it straight away, which made Sirius wonder if it was intentional, like a sort of gay signal, and then he remembered the Oscar Wilde book on the checkout desk and stopped trying to look for gay signals.

“Holy shit,” Remus spluttered. The profanity rolled masterfully from his lips; Sirius had never quite got the hang of swearing after his stuffy, conservative upbringing. Remus made it sound graceful.

“What a pair, eh?” said Sirius, and then cringed inwardly again because they weren’t a pair, they were complete strangers but somehow it felt like they’d known each other forever and fuck when did it get so hot in here? He looked at the shelves where Remus’ other hand still rested, and tried to ignore the eyes that were sliding up and down his body as Remus Lupin gave him what Sirius recognised as ‘the gay once-over.’ Dressed in the odd assortment of James’ secondary school football hoodie that had been surpassed by the frankly unnatural growth of James’ shoulders, pretentious shoes and crinkled dress trousers, Sirius was acutely aware that he was not looking his whole and considerable best. Christ, he might even look straight.

“There’s um-you said you might have something?” Sirius said, after another twenty five seconds in which Remus’ gaze had lingered on the rings Sirius had forgotten to take off (his mum would kill him if he turned up to a wedding looking like anything other than a Conservative Straight Man) and then drifted to his hair which was probably fried from all the sweating and running about and cheap shampoo. Remus blinked at these words, and whipped his head back to the shelves as if startled he had been caught in the act.

“Yes! Sorry, it’s-erm-can you hold this?” He plonked a cast iron sewing machine into Sirius’ arms who sagged beneath the weight, wheezing as he tried to lock his knees without Remus noticing. What the hell kind of Hulk body was hiding under that jumper? Eyes streaming, he balanced it on top of a pile of ancient National Geographic magazines and prayed it would not succumb to the inevitable force of gravity. Remus was deep into the recesses of the shelf, standing on tiptoe to reach the very back. His socks were visible again and Sirius could see now that they were not pineapples, but durians. Cute. His jumper was riding up as he stretched to whatever unknown artefacts lurked at the very rear and now it was Sirius’ turn to stare, because there was some pale midriff exposed above the waist of his jeans and he was skinny, but not skinny, kind of-lean? Was that the word? He had that vee of muscle above his hip and Sirius was suddenly struggling not to choke on his own tongue.

"Here it is!", came Remus' muffled voice, and Sirius took a step back hurriedly. He was pretty certain he had been gazing glassy eyed at the shop-keeper's navel where a delicate line of dark brown hair descended below his belt, and pinched his own wrist hard behind his back as Remus' head emerged, and he shook some cobwebs out of his curly hair. He was holding a small box, and Sirius’ first thought was that if something covered in that much dust came within eight feet of Narcissa, her immune system would likely spontaneously combust due to overexposure. People like her didn’t have immune systems, they just loaded themselves up with fucking multivitamins and avoided any establishments without at least two Michelin stars.

“Sorry it’s a bit-“ Remus blew a cloud of dust off the top of the box, coughed, and wiped it off on the back of his jeans, muttering ‘need to stop smoking.’

Sirius almost went feral at the image of his lips pursed around a Marlboro, but managed to pull his face into a socially acceptable frame in time for Remus to pass the box to him. “What do you think?”

Squatting in a bed of midnight blue velvet, sat a pair of silver napkin rings. They were ornate, and completely hideous. Sirius started to grin. He picked one up to examine it. It was decorated with a stag, and the other with a doe. It was likely the engraver had never seen these animals in the flesh, which would account for their mildly horrifying humanoid faces.

“Perfect,” muttered Sirius, turning the ugly silver object over in his hand. It was heavy and looked antique, and Sirius knew it would fit right in with the future Mrs. Malfoy’s entirely tasteless kitchen decor. He looked up at Remus, disbelieving in the way he had absolutely nailed Sirius’ mission. “Absolutely bloody perfect.”

Remus grinned back, a wondrous sight, his hands half in the pockets of his faded jeans. Sirius returned the napkin ring to its box, and then thought of something that made his smile falter.

“Are these solid silver?”

“Yep,” Remus said happily. “Nineteenth century antiques, I believe.” But Sirius was pushing the box back into his hands, shaking his head.

“I can’t afford that, sorry I-“

“Five quid.” The box flew back into Sirius’ hands before he could blink.

“Come again?”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “I’m the only person who knew they were there, and I doubt anyone else would want to bestow something that vile on a newly wedded couple.”

Was this guy even real? Sirius couldn’t quite fathom what he had done to deserve this act of kindness, but he wasn’t about to turn it down.

“Thank you,” he said, earnestly. Remus shrugged again, but the smile remained. He took Sirius back to the counter, where he took the box back from him and, while Sirius dug in his pocket for some change, produced some silvery wrapping paper and parcelled it. Sirius stole a surreptitious glance at him as he tied it off with a navy ribbon. His eyelashes were sandy like his eyebrows, but they were thick and almost touched his cheeks when his eyes were cast down on his work.

Sirius was having a crisis. He had never asked for anyone’s number before, but the thought of walking out of this shop and never seeing this god-sent individual again was criminal. His mouth felt dry. What if he had misread this interaction completely, and Remus was just a friendly, helpful guy? He glanced at the book, now balanced on top of the till while Remus rang up, and took a breath.

“Good book, that” he said, indicating The Picture of Dorian Grey awkwardly. Remus looked from him, to the book, and back again. While Sirius experienced a burning sensation in the base of his chest, Remus nodded non commitantly, and swept the stack of pound coins Sirius had placed on the desk into the till. He looked away, agonising, kicking himself internally at his own ineptness, as he pulled a receipt from the till and passed it and the neatly-wrapped box across the table.

“All done.”

“Thanks.” Sirius could feel his cheeks burning, and decided a clean getaway was well overdue. He had picked up the items and had half turned away when he heard- “I wrote my number on that receipt, you know.”

The burning in his chest now felt like a slowly inflating balloon. He looked down at the smooth piece of paper and saw a number scribbled in biro on its surface. Eleven numbers. Definitely a phone number. He turned hastily back to Remus, who was- Sirius was pleased to see- also looking slightly bashful.

“Thought my gaydar had malfunctioned for a minute there,” Sirius said. Remus laughed.

“It was really great to meet you.” He said, placing his feet up on the desk again.

“And you,” Sirius replied. Elated, he headed for the door before Remus could change his mind. He dreaded to think how late he was now, but he couldn’t think of a situation more worth a bollocking from his mother than this one. He had yanked the reluctant door open when-

“Hey, Sirius?”

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder. Remus was peering over the top of his book at him again.

“Let me know how the wedding goes.”

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #muggle au #Marauders #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #wolfstar au #remus x sirius #remus is a little shit and i love him

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spidersbane · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America !

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter.

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show !

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :)

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

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Calm Down Stories

Summary: Remus wishes his telepathic link with his soulmate helped him calm Virgil down in ways beyond telling stories, but it works. Today he tries helping a stranger in a music shop at the same time by talking about a CD cover to them, and sending his words over the telepathic link.

/\/\

'Can't do this. Too loud, too busy. Can't, can't can't' Remus wished that he knew how to help, really help Virgil, especially when these repetitions began to echo through their connection. He'd tried looking up what helps anxiety, methods soulmates had used before meeting in the past.

Virgil had only panicked more when he'd tried using them, terrified that he was harming or annoying Remus with his fears, worries, everything.

Later they had spoken about it, covered that Remus had only wanted to help, support him since he couldn't take the anxiety away but also that he hadn't sounded like himself to Virgil while following those methods. Besides as soon as he knew it wasn't helping Virgil, he'd returned to his usual method of trying to help with his soulmates panic, imagining stories, and adventures he'd gone on, or thought sounded fun.

Remus knew that was all just distractions though, nothing that actually helped long term. Their telepathy thankfully hid his wishes to do more, even just talk through the struggles Virgil had when overwhelmed so he projected stories about his day, and compliments, so many compliments about the things Virgil let slip through in his thoughts.

'You somewhere safe to calm down in? Or still stuck among the madding crowd?' Remus asked, already heading into the nearest shop. It was always easier to come up with a story if he didn't have to worry about walking into strangers constantly. Their yelling could filter through to Virgil and make things worse if he did walk into them.

'Music Shop. Can't move, can't hide, can't can't can't cope, all too much, going to have people staring at me.' On one hand Remus could start trying to come up with some distraction story, on the other, if Virgil was already worrying about getting stares that usually meant he needed someone actually with him to calm down alongside the thoughts Remus could send to him. They'd already mentioned this morning that they were both out picking up some new accessories and clothes alone today.

He glanced around the shop hoping for something he could twist into a bizarre story, more confusing than a surrealism painting and realised that he was in a music shop too, with plenty of CD cases to take inspiration from and a guy in a hoodie clinging to one of the shelves as though the world was ending...

A guy looking like the world was ending could probably use a distraction just as much as Virgil needed on too so Remus had a focus and a way to start chattering away. The display the man had stopped at had some weird album art on it.

“Hey Fella, can I get to those CD's in front of ya?” He asked, trying to pantomime reaching around him without breaching any personal space the man might need.

He got a panicked look and a stumble out of the way for that, but picked up on of the cases anyway, raising an eyebrow. “Are you breathing there, Honey? I would help more but have been told I suck at leading breathing patterns. Or rather that I'm too impatient to count slowly in whatever way they need.” Remus just let any thoughts that crossed his mind and would be okay for Virgil to hear while panicking be said. He knew that quite often if he spoke things they'd get sent over their bond as thoughts too, and really didn't want to make either his soulmate or this stranger worse.

The man did attempt to take a deep breath at his words though, so Remus classed that as a win and waved the CD case up. “You know, Fella, I always wonder what the story could be behind album art like this. Seriously half of music nowadays is all love, sex, money, or escaping to nature. I bet none of the songs even mention a bat, let alone an octopus so why put them on a cover.” Really he could have found a worse cover to talk about, but this would do.

Virgil was quiet, no repetitions of 'Can't' to be heard for the moment and the panicking man was just nodding, clearly still upset, but definitely trying to breathe to some pattern Remus couldn't fathom.

“Then again, why would a bat even be flying over the ocean? It doesn't seem like something they'd do. I mean sure, birds migrate, and there's gotta be some bats that live in seaside town. Literally enough books and films set in England mention bats that it has to be like a given some are near the sea. That island is tiny.” Remus now had to get the CD if only so he'd remember to look up ocean bats later on. If they existed he wanted to know everything, including the weirdest things they eat. Can bats prey on fish?

“Some in Mexico migrate and hunt at sea.” The man breathed out, sounding shaky and half terrified of actually joining in with Remus's conversation.

He nodded in thanks, now frowning at the other animal on the screen. “Still, pretty unrealistic for an octopus to be that vibrantly yellow in the middle of the night. Practically all cephalopods have some ability to change their colour and that bright near the surface. It's basically putting up a sign saying ' I'm here, hunt me' to any predators near the surface. Although maybe it's more trying to get the gift delivered to it and would go to darker shade as soon as that box is actually in its grasp.”

“Why would a bat be taking presents to an octopus anyway?” Remus blinked at the question. It was one he'd expected to have thought at him, if Virgil was starting to calm down at least, but instead the stranger had asked it.

Mentally he thought threw bringing the bat bombs he'd read about once up, but shook the thought away, shrugging and carrying on wriggling. “Could be any reason. Perhaps bats are the animal worlds equivalent to Santa, only instead of one man in a sleigh you have hundreds or millions of these fluffy little friends flying around trying to give presents on like midsummer or something. Can't have a winter celebration for the animals when tons of them are hibernating.”

“Would be more animals on the picture if that was the case. Could just be the octopus and bat are friends.” Remus looked at the man again, staring for a moment as he spoke. There was still a shake to his breaths but they were slow again, and his hands weren't tensing for something to grip onto.

“Well now I just want to know how a bat and an octopus would become friends. It can't be easy given one lives literally under the sea and the other in caves or treetops and flies everywhere.” He exclaimed, getting a snort, before focusing on his thoughts. 'Hey Virge, You've gone quiet there. Are you calming down or has something happened?'

The man he'd been helping to calm down at the same time smirked, “Who are humans to limit what friendships animals can make? I'm more curious over what gift they would share.”

“Well that's easy, things the octopus couldn't get normally but might like to eat. Some other types of insects or whatever.” Remus suggested, now frowning as he still got no response.

“Is something wrong? I thought your story from this CD cover was going really well. Have I upset you trying to join in with it?” The man asked, worried again as he watched Remus.

He shook his head, “No, your ideas are brilliant, awesome actually. I just, well my soulmate was upset too so part of the story was for you, partly for him, but now I'm not getting any response.” Remus tried to wave away the concern, already thinking again 'Virgil, please just a random I've been knocked out and thoughts aren't awake response would be wonderful right now.'

The man frowned too, “That could just mean you've... Give me a moment to try contacting my soulmate cause you're right. He'd normally have been telling me some weird story but instead you were here talking and I don't think I've heard from him for a bit.” Remus didn't need to ask what the broken off sentence meant. He'd have lost the telepathy if he had met his soulmate, and the only person that would qualify for that was this man.

He waited for a moment, watching as the man closed his eyes, before staring at him again. “So is your soulmate called Virgil?”

“Is your soulmate called Remus?” He countered, beginning to bounce in place again.

“Yes, oh bloody hell, you accidentally managed to find me, mid panic attack and still decided to help me calm down? You're insane, what if I was dangerous or something?” Virgil exclaimed, shoving at Remus's chest lightly.

Remus just started laughing, grabbing the arm that shoved him to pull Virgil into a hug. “Somehow I don't think anyone dangerous would be frozen clinging to a display in a music shop. Come on, You need food and hot chocolate after that freak out, and I need as much sugar as I can fit into a drink. There's a cafe a few shops down.”

He didn't release the hug while making that decision, and only snickered when Virgil half heartedly attempted to pull away. “If we're going there you need to let me go, and pay for that CD.”

“Hmm, maybe in a bit. I've wanted to wrap you up in hugs when you're upset for all our lives so you can enjoy the longest hug ever before we move.” Remus declared, tightening one arm while the other came up to pet Virgil's hair.

Perhaps he wouldn't normally have helped a stranger calm down but he couldn't be more please that he had today.

#dukexiety #soulmate au #remus sanders #virgil sanders #panic attack #bats #octopuses

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olivemac · 3 years

Text

heartbeat | chapter one | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | mild angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | mild angst

master list | AO3 link

_____

"You have a lead on Bucky already?" Sam asks, climbing into the passenger side of Steve's car. It's only been a few days since Natasha gave Steve the folder containing information on Bucky Barnes's Winter Soldier transformation.

"Not exactly," Steve says, "But I know someone who might be able to help. We're going to New York."

"So, who's this mystery informant?"

"Kate Stark."

"Stark? As in Tony Stark?" Sam pushes, looking at Steve incredulously.

Steve nods, "Tony's younger sister. She's supposed to be some genius hacker and pretty good at tracking people. Nat says we can trust her."

"And you think Tony will be on board with this?"

"No, but from what Nat said, Kate won't have a problem keeping a few things from Tony."

_____

When they pull up in front of a brick townhouse in Tribeca, Sam whistles.

"I'm pretty sure Taylor Swift lives in this neighborhood," he says.

"I actually know who that is," Steve replies, climbing the steps to the front door, and Sam laughs.

Steve met Kate Stark following Loki's attack on New York, and the only thing he's certain of when it came to her is she is somehow both exactly the same as and vastly different from her older brother. She's quiet, a little aloof, and lacks Tony's easy charisma, but the Stark charm isn't completely lost on her and neither is Tony's sarcasm. Steve sees more of Kate's father, Howard, in Tony, but she shares their cockiness. Tony describes her as "too smart for her own good" and "prone to bouts of Millennial ennui" (always said with an eyeroll). She works for her brother at Stark Industries - mostly so he can keep an eye on her - but Nat told Steve that before SHIELD imploded, Nick Fury had been trying to recruit her for years.

"Captain America," Kate says with a smile, answering the door, "Natasha said you'd be dropping by."

Steve returns her smile.

"Come in," she says, opening the door further and ushering the two men inside.

She leads them to a small, dark study just off the entryway. Three walls feature floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, crammed with books, wrapping around the doorway and picture window. The final wall is covered in computer monitors. It makes for quite the contrast, and Steve has the feeling this room is a perfect reflection of Kate herself – both modern and old-fashioned, connected and cloistered.

"Kate Stark, Sam Wilson. Sam, Kate," Steve introduces, then continues, "Nat said you could help us find Bucky."

Kate nods once, "She filled me in on the details, sent me a somewhat redacted copy of the Winter Soldier file. But I can't make any promises. He's a trained assassin; he knows how to avoid detection. But I'll direct some Stark tech toward it, see what I can do. Tony doesn't need to know."

"Thank you," Steve says, "We should get going."

She shakes her head, "You drove all this way, stay for lunch. Do you like Thai?"

"Yes," Sam interjects before Steve can turn her down. He didn't sit in the car for four hours to have them turn right back around again.

"Brilliant. I'll order."

When the kitchen table is sprawled with empty takeout containers and Kate has pressed Steve for as much information on Bucky that wasn't in the file as he was willing to give and then pressed both Sam and Steve for a full play-by-play on their takedown of HYDRA, she shows them out.

"Thanks for lunch," Sam says.

"And thanks for your help, Kate," Steve echoes.

"Of course. I'll let you know if I find anything," she says, smiling.

Then she closes the door, locks herself in her study, and gets to work.

_____

"You found something?" Steve asks, looking at the wall of monitors in Kate's study. Each screen displays a continuous scroll of faces from CCTV footage around the globe. Kate's trying out her latest upgrades to Stark Industries' facial recognition software in her bid to find Bucky.

It’s been more than eight months since Steve asked for her help, and she’s finally had a minor success.

"Yes and no," she says, directing his attention to one screen, "I got a hit in Kiev last week, but I haven't gotten anything since." She pulls up a grainy CCTV photo of a man with long, dark hair and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. "My software is telling there's a 99.999% match, but since he hasn't shown up anywhere else in the city, I think he's moved on."

Steve sighs, "At least we have confirmation he's alive." He scrubs a hand over his face and continues, "He pulled me from the river, I know he did. And he wouldn't have done that if he didn't remember me."

"I'll keep looking," Kate says, "Now that my software has spotted him once, he should be easier to find."

_____

He wasn't easier to find.

Another eight months pass without a single lead in her hunt for Bucky. Kate is caught somewhere between obsession and despair. She flips through his HYDRA file obsessively. She stares at his military photo for hours, trying to reconcile the man with the soft eyes and smug smile with the horrors of the Winter Soldier. She reads books on Captain America and the Howling Commandos, and her stomach cramps at the thought of telling Steve she can't find his best friend.

In a bid to distract herself from what she considers her failure, she throws herself into her work at Stark Industries. Tony would be delighted if he weren’t facing his own regrets and heartbreak following Sokovia.

She leaves her software running 24/7 but stops checking it so frequently. She's practically avoiding her study and that wall of monitors that remind her that she hasn't succeeded in finding Bucky yet. She's set up a workstation at her kitchen table and run through the new updates for FRIDAY three times already when she hears the faint beep of her software finding a match. Her breath stalls.

Kate thinks about ignoring it. If she ignores it, she can't be disappointed when it turns out her software is wrong.

But she can't ignore it.

The beeping grows louder as she makes her way to her study, a mixture of hope and dread forming in her chest. She opens the door and flips on the light; and there he is on her monitor: Bucky Barnes.

_____

next chapter

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A/N | It's been quite some time since I've written anything creatively so let me know what you think. Just trying to flex that writing muscle again.

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes romance

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tatertotthethot · 4 years

Text

The Doms Next Door 2.0

THIS IS A TEMPORARY REUPLOAD FOR THIS CHAPTER CUZ TUMBLR IS RAN BY A BUNCH OF BOTS. 2.1 HERE

Warnings/AN: frequent, casually cursing; comical, gay Jimin; insecure reader; steamy flirting; tattoo/sexualized Tae 🙃. Enjoy~ (TAEKOOK EDIT ABOVE IS ARTKOOK DONE BY NONCONMAN ON INSTAGRAM)

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Your tires came to a stop outside of the tattoo shop you've seen online— a brick building, covered in spray paint and street-style art. A sign buzzed over the awning of the entrance doors, with the built-in UV lights and graffiti-styled font displaying the name of the place in neon-red letters. Kink For Ink! The name alone was what first caught your attention last week, when you Googled "Tattoo shops near me" and it pulled up a list, with "Kink For Ink" being the first option. It just seemed so uncanny and fitting at the time, considering the previous run-in you just had with the sex-crazed neighbors a couple nights before. You couldn't help but to click the link to their Instagram.

A profile came up with 53.4k followers, which immediately blew your mind... but you quickly saw why. Every tattoo and piercing, no matter the body-placement, skin-type, or quirky design, was vividly appealing— certainly done by the articulate hands of certified experts. Even in the comments of the piercings that were posted, people were praising them for the "minimal" amount of pain they experienced, despite the fact that some of piercings were done in places you couldn't even fathom the thought of having a needle jammed through.

It said in the bio that the shop is owned by the two artists that work there— Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. You couldn't find out much about them, all their pictures showed was their work. You even went back to search for a personal account of their own, but nothing came up. You then went back to the bio and clicked a link to the official website, hoping to find out something, but you were met with a disclaimer rule at the top that automatically deemed your chances of even getting your piece done by them, slim-to-none.

• No walk-ins allowed.

• Every request/idea must be sent in through the DMs of our Instagram page. You will only be accepted only if it spikes our personal interests.

Yikes; You were instantly discouraged by this. The piece you wanted was something so common and cliché, that you actually got the image out of a child's coloring book.... It was the cartoon layout of the glass vase and enchanted rose, from the Beauty and the Beast movie. Cheesy, yes. But it was something of personal, nostalgic value. You remember when you were little— roughly around 3 or 4 years of age— when your parents started fighting and would spend all day screaming and throwing things at each other, putting you in a constant state of anxiety. But then you'd go to bed at night and pop the VHS tape, and the movie never failed to put you in a peaceful state of mind— a hopeful one. It's remained as your all-time favorite love story throughout the years. Which, is ironic, considering that the relationship itself was different, but almost as dysfunctional as your parent's. However, the fact that even the Beast was capable of change, and everything wound up so perfect and happy in the end, makes your heart happy. And even now, at age 19, it still puts you in your feelings. The previous remake of a movie is what actually inspired you to get the enchanted rose as a tattoo, after seeing it in 3D not too long ago. But you're only willing to shell out up to $200 for it, at most. You've just started college, and even though Jimin's parents own the house and let the two of you live there, rent free, you're still responsible for half the utility bills from month to month. Blowing every bit of money you have saved up, right at the start of the semester, would just be irresponsible. But $200 was manageable, and you're looking for anything that'll give you a little extra "oomph" to break you out of this introverted shell you've always known. Pushing it off would just delay it, and you were ready for change. The nose piercing you want is just a small little thing that'll hopefully add a bit of flare to the features of your face. These two guys could probably do the piercing/tattoo with a blindfold on and a hand tied behind their back. So, if it meant that you'd be able to get these things done in confidence, without having to worry about the outcome, you figured it wouldn't hurt for you to at least ask, even if they straight-up ignore you. So, after spending an unnecessary amount of time overthinking the wording of your text, you finally constructed a message in your notes and DM'd it to business page, after sending them a small, simple outline of the cartoony rose, and pressed send.

• You: Hello! I've been wanting to get this tattoo done for a very while now, and was hoping one of you will be willing to do it for me... along with piercing my nose? I know it's a very mediocre and cliché piece, and a nose piercing can be done anywhere. But I'm new to the area and I've never gotten a tattoo/piercing done before and I haven't really checked out any other places either because I found this page first. And from what I can see, you guys are pretty efficient and CRAZY talented. So, I trust it'll get done right.... only if you want to! I'm willing to pay $200 for this, but if it costs that much for just the outline I've sent then that's fine as well. But I understand if neither of you want to do it cuz that is really cheap compared to the ones I've seen lol. But either way, thx for ur time 😁

A few minutes went by and you had just unlocked your phone to check the message again, when the word "seen" popped below the message. You held your breath for a second— but seconds turned to minutes, and time went by with no reply, what-so-ever. You figured maybe you sounded a little too immature to take seriously; kind of like a prepubescent 12-year-old asking someone out for a dance... and you blew it. Which was disappointing, but predictable. So fuck it. Maybe it's a sign; you shouldn't get it after all.

11pm rolled around, many hours later. You were now hiding beneath your covers, beginning your "amateur threesome" exploration on PornHub. You were ready to see what this whole "2 guys, 1 girl" thing was all about. But just when you were about to type it into the search bar, you were interrupted by an Instagram notification dropping down from the top of your screen.

"KinkForInk sent you a message."

You audibly gasped, eyes turning to saucers as you clicked on the notif and switched over to the Instagram app.

• KinkForInk: Hi (Y/N). This is Tae, one of the artists of the shop. The tattoo you sent in is worth roughly $100... but I want to run an offer by you in hopes that you'll be interested.

— Your brows scrunched in oddity, stomach fluttering. An offer? For you?

• You: Okay, sure. What's that?

• KinkForInk: I've been looking for someone willing to showcase the custom design I've come up with, specifically for a much more... exclusive version of the Beauty and the Beast tattoo you sent. And if you'd be down for letting me and my partner put it on you, it'll be free. No charge. BUT you'll also have to sign a contract saying that you'll do a little bit of modeling for us once it's done. You think you'd be in to doing something like that, even if you get it?

— Your head spun for a second, reading the message over and over again until you could fully wrap your mind around what he was saying.

• You: Hold on... YOU wanna put a tattoo on ME so that I model for you? And it's FREE? Are you sure about this? I'm not even model material lol.

• KinkForInk: Yes, yes, and yes, you are. You'd be perfect for this.

• You: How do know that? Is it a face tattoo? Cuz I only have 6 selfies on here and you can't see anything past my shoulders.

—"Seen" came up as soon as you hit send, but a couple of minutes rolled by with no reply to the message, nor was he even typing. Maybe you came off a little rude. But it was already sketchy and it was a logical question.

— An image suddenly popped up: a screenshot of your Facebook profile. Then another— and much to your horror, it was the photo Jimin tagged you in last week, when the two of you were swimming at a local community pool. You were wearing a simple two piece, sitting at the foot of the lawn chair Jimin was also sitting in, as his legs were visible on either side of you and his lap was practically framing your ass. The photo was at an upward angle and looked so scandalous— but really, you had just asked Jimin to put sun screen on your back and he didn't want to stand up because the pavement was too hot against his bare feet. But you actually liked the picture at the time; it was just a silly joke and your ass actually looked quite nice from that angle. Plus, everyone knows nothing sexual actually goes on between the two of you, for obvious reasons. But Taehyung doesn't, so you couldn't help but dreadfully cringe when you saw the caption of the screen shot.

"Babymama 💦🍆"

• KinkForInk: Is this you??

• You: Yes, that's me. The caption is a joke tho... pay no mind to that. But this is like, really happening? You really think it'd look good on me?

— Why that picture though? You couldn't help but wonder.

• KinkForInk: Yes. Like I said, you're perfect for this piece. Are you down to at least see what the tattoo will look like? We don't expect you to be experienced with modeling or anything, but if you listen to us and cooperate, you'll do just fine.

• You: Yes I wanna see, and I'll do the best I can if I decide to get it... I'm just a bit shy, is all.

• KinkForInk: You'll be in good hands. I promise.

• You: Okay... are you going to show me??

• KinkForInk: Can't send it over a message, I don't want it plagiarized or the concept stolen. But the piece itself isn't necessarily crazy or anything, just more creative. I'd be more than happy to show you at my shop some day this week, if you'd be willing to swing by.

• You: Yeah, I can do that. When should I come?

• KinkForInk: Are you available after 5 tomorrow?

• You: I am, I get off at 4:30.

• KinkForInk: Great. Be here by 5:30, and make sure you've eaten in case you like the piece and wanna get started. It's pretty big for a first timer and gonna take a lot of time and patience. It'll have to be done in sessions but I hope you have a fair enough pain tolerance to at least get the outline of it done first.

— It can't be any worse than a bikini wax, you thought, shivering at the memory. That a story for another time. You decided on an alternative scenario.

• You: I give blood from time to time... but that's easy and doesn't really hurt that much. I think I can handle it though... maybe. I honestly don't know lol, I'm sorry 😣. But I can try my best. Can I ask where it's supposed to go?

• KinkForInk: That's okay, I'll work with you. It's supposed to go down the middle of your back. Starts between the center of your shoulder blades, and trails down the length of your spine to your lower lumbar. You'll see how it looks once we transfer a template on your back. But if you don't like it, there will be no hard feelings from my end. I can still do the tattoo you want if that's the case, free of charge just for your time.

• You: Oh no, you don't have to do that! I'd still pay!

• KinkForInk: Not if I don't accept your money. Trust me, I'm not worried about it. The nose piercing is gonna be $30 regardless, though. JK isn't so lenient.

• You: Of course. Will I have to take my shirt and bra off for the tattoo?

• KinkForInk: Yes, and for the pictures once it's done.

— Your mind blanked at that; thumbs froze over the keypad. He was typing again.

• KinkForInk: Don't let that discourage you. Again, you're in good hands. You can bring something to cover your chest. And the pics will be if your back as well.

• You: Okay, I can handle that. So 5:30 tomorrow?

• KinkForInk: Yes, please don't flake on us!

• You: Lol, I won't. I'll be there.

"They're gonna knock us the fuck out and sell our organs to the black market," Jimin declared. He had parked next to you outside of the shop, and was now sitting in the driver seat of his car with his door locked and windows all the way up, refusing to get out. You were standing right outside his door, still having to talk on the phone. "And is this Tae-guy an AllState representative or something?"

Jimin is petty. You wanted him here for moral support— which he's usually reliable for— but this time, he's just plain salty right and doing everything he can to remind you of that. Reason is, he's been begging you to get a matching tattoo with him ever since your 18th birthday, and you've always refused because of what he wanted to get.

Cupcakes. Jimin wanted to get matching cupcake tattoos... in honor of Cupcakke the legend. Sorry, but H E L L no.

You rolled your eyes, growing frustrated. He only has enough time to pop in and confirm that these two aren't gonna kill you, and then he's gotta head home to get ready for work. You were already supposed to be in there. It was 5:33pm, 3 minutes past the time.

"Jimin, you're the one that insisted on coming along! And now you're making me late!" you ranted. "I'm going in without you."

"Hold your horses, hoe! I'm finishing my blueberry slushie," He retorted, sassily bringing the straw to his mouth and loudly slurping it into the phone. He then abruptly flinched away from the straw with a disgusted expression, nostrils flared, body locking up; lips drawing into an air-tight knot that was so extreme and unnatural, it caused an ugly snort to break out of your nose.

He smacked his lips in exaggeration to the taste, face falling back into stone as an eyebrow arched over the top of his aviators; unamused and saltier than before... Like you were at fault for that, too.

"Or... Blueberry-ass, I should say."

That forced another giggle out of you as Jimin stiffly rolled his window down, phone still pressed to his ear and eyes still scowling at you behind the inspector shades. He bit down on the straw and withdrew it with his teeth before dumping the dark-blue contents of the drink out of the window, making it a point to shake the styrofoam cup empty of every drop before tossing it over his shoulder and into back seat. He then spat the straw out of his mouth with an audible "PLUUUUH!" of a French accent, and waited until the window rolled all the way up again, just so he could hang up the phone. You scoffed at this as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, scornfully watching Jimin exit the car and slam the door behind him. He snatched his glasses off his face as his cotton-candy hair swayed in the breeze, revealing his scornful eyes right back at you as he gestured for you to lead the way in exasperated manner— as if you were the one wasting his time now.

"Go on, lead us to the grave," He shooed, a snippy little shit. You sauntered away, walking up the side of the shop, then paused just before reaching the glass entrance door, when you remembered how much of a coward you are. You've never even stepped into a parlor before, and supposedly, this was a famous one. Which makes it more and more surreal when you think about it.

"Are we doing the mannequin challenge now? Is that what we're doing?" Jimin sardonically inquired.

"You go first, I'm nervous!" You whisper-hissed.

"You don't want me to go in there first— I'll show out," he reasoned, simply stating a fact.

"Please don't," you whined.

"Then, again, I'll show out?" He reiterated, as if to say duh. "How else am I supposed to break the ice? I look like Timmy Turner's Fairy-Gay- Parent."

You gave him a wary look... he's right. You sighed, slightly kicking your foot in distracted defeat. Fuck, you hated making an entrance to new places—

"Hold up— is that Drake?" Jimin suddenly blurted, holding his hand up to silence you. You honed in on the muffled track playing from behind the glass door, and Jimin's face soon light up like a Christmas tree before he spun around you, unstoppable.

"Jimin, NO—!"

"KIKI, DO YOU LOVE ME—?!"

It was already too late. The door was flying back behind him as he Milly-Rocked his way into the shop, leaving you no choice but the chase in behind him.

"—ARE YOU RIDING? SAY YOU'LL NEVA-EVA LEAVE FROM BESIDE ME— hello there."

You were panting, coming to a stop right behind Jimin, where you instantly latched on to the back of his shirt as you met the face of the man behind the studio counter. And, as corny as this is gonna sound: the world actually stilled for a solid beat... or maybe you were in the verge of cardiac arrest.

A pair of glossy-Black eyes looked up at the two of you; A series of silver-studded earrings trailed along the outer cartilages, peaking out beneath a head of soft, layer-swept hair. It was a Carmel-tinted blonde in color— thick and shaggy, and neatly spilling in waves around a headband that proudly sported a high-dollar brand-name you've never seen anyone wear in person before. G U C C I, it read— Meaning that the headband alone was probably worth more than some of your college text books, put together. It sat just a few inches above a pair of dark brows, that oddly brought out the shape of his cat-like eyes— irises like polished marbles. His ample lips had a sharp, well-defined Cupid's-bow, and a natural shade of pink that fit the porcelain appearance of his melanin-kissed complexion, to the finest degree.

And here you are, looking like an actual bum. You had just enough time to clock out of work and head straight over here to make it in time. You didn't even have any makeup on, and the only thing hiding your raggedy hair from those captivating eyes is your old baseball cap from high school. It took a second for him to take the bold presence that was Park Jimin— who was also frozen to the spot as he openly checked the guy out. He was hunched over the counter, a v-neck hoodie covering the rest of him with a thin, loose-fitting material. It was Black and allowed a full visual of his tan neck, and prominent collar bones. And it certainly didn't hide the fact that he had a pair of wide-set shoulders, either. A pencil sat in his hand— one that was laced with masculine veins, and lot of decorative ink. There was a silver ring on his thumb.. and a very heavy-looking Rolex watch.

The man cracked a grin at Jimin— a boxy one that dimpled in at the corners.

"Love the hair," he humorously began, twisting a quirky eyebrow at Jimin. You subconsciously snagged the bill of your hat as your eyes went a little wide at how mature the man's voice was.

"Love the watch," Jimin retorted, then reached around and gripped you by the wrist before pulling you into full view beside him. "You wouldn't happen to be Taehyung...?"

"Mhm," the man hummed, absentmindedly moving his wrist at the mention of his watch. His eyes cut over to you, and you swore you could see a minuscule reflection of yourself in his eyes, before they flashed back at Jimin and blinked. "You must be the babydaddy?"

Blood rushes to your ears. It's really him... a guy who looks like a high-dollar model himself, asking you to be his canvas model. Your own conscious didn't even know what to say right now. So you stayed quiet and still as Jimin took charge... which was a mistake.

"She wishes, but no. I'm the best-friend— and a gay one, at that," Jimin replied, and you knew he did that for his benefit. Thot. "I'm just here to make sure you're not gonna sacrifice her to Satan, or anything of that nature. I need her around in case I ever forget the Netflix password."

Taehyung chuckled at that, mouth opening to reveal a row of teeth shinier than Chip Skylark's. But then, you caught something behind his teeth that caused your gut to leap. A silver ball... a tongue ring. Your thoughts clouded over for a second.

"Well, I can assure you, she's safe with me," he said, looking over at you again. You blinked, nothing more. His brow arched at your lack of response, but this time, it was done more handsomely as he was still smirking at you. "Still, you don't look too thrilled to be here... You sure you wanna do this?"

"She's just nervous because you're really fucking hot," Jimin announced, unyielding. "You should feel how sweaty her hand is."

"Don't listen to him— I'm gay too," You lied in panic, trying to defend yourself from the absolute truth Jimin spoke just then. You snatched your hand away from him and jutted a finger at the door, eyes beading and lid twitching as your nerves ran amuck. "Goodbye, Jimin."

"She's a lonesome hetero," Jimin told Taehyung, assuring him with a face that showed no bluff. "One look at her camera roll, and you'd see for yourself—" You were yanking him away by the arm now, in a tug-of-war game that Jimin obviously could've won if he really wanted to. But he figured you suffered enough and eventually let you drag him out of the shop, waving bye to Taehyung before turning to look at you with beading eyes.

"I think he wants to fuck you— text me as soon as you can," Jimin uttered with unmoving lips as before he walked to his car. You stopped for a second, noticing he was actually being serious. How could he possibly think that he wants to fuck you, just from that small encounter? And what is the odd sensation currently coiling in your stomach? Things grew awkward again when you re-entered the shop, coming to a stand at the same spot... only alone now. He was still amused, it seemed. And so calm and cool despite this odd, intense look in his eyes. It gave him a Casanova effect, where all he had to do was give you that look and it'd instantly make you blush.

"He seems like a fun person to be around," he noted, somewhat honestly, but more so making fun of the red-hot appearance of your face.

"He's a pain in the ass," you muttered, trying to conjure up a smirk but hardly even able to speak properly from how dry your mouth was. It felt like there was a white-hot iron expanding in your throat. "I'm really sorry about him."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're here— thought you'd chicken out." You nervously wiped your clammy palms over the back pockets of your jeans as Taehyung got up from the barstool behind the counter and approached you on the other side of it, a whole head-and-a-half taller than you. He was wearing black cardigan jeans and matching combat boots.. his headband and jewelry the only thing not black on him. And oddly enough, he made it look fucking fantastic.

"Mh-mm," You hummed, not trusting your voice. You've never needed a sip of water so bad in your life— he even smelled expensive.

"Well, It's very nice to meet you," he formerly began, and you mustered up the normality of placing your (dried) hand into his much larger one, as he held his out to you in greeting. And boy, was he close. So close that the heels of your spine itches to lean back from the proximity.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm really sorry if I'm acting weird. I'm just nervous." — Your mind struggled to stay focused on your words, arm tensing at the skin-to-skin contact. You were extra-effected by the firmness in his grip. You really wanted to look down at all the bold ink you saw dashing across the veiny surface of his tanned hand, or see if those were images or scripted letters on the knuckles of lengthy fingers... But you were held captive by those God-blessed eyes... And that fucking tongue ring. It was infecting your head in ways that weren't necessarily healthy for your current state of mind, as you saw it peering in and out at certain words.

"And physically shaking," Taehyung pointed out, brows twitching down at your trembling hand in his as if he was concerned for it. But his smirk gave off an odd sense of fascination to the involuntary symptom, like it was cute or something? Hm. He glanced back up at you, causing your dehydrated throat to bob as his other hand came to clasp over the rest of yours, swallowing it completely from the wrist down. "Intimidated?"

"V-Very," you spluttered, a small slither of saliva copulating down your throat as you looked back up at him. He absentmindedly rolled his tongue ring over the button row of his teeth as he watched you with tainted eyes— undoubtably getting cocky with that damn grin of his and proudly teasing you about your reaction to him. It gratified the effortless sex-appeal he had. You were even beginning to imagine that tongue ring elsewhere, and you literally just met him. Then, as you felt the band of a ring move along with the pad of his thumb as gently ran it across your trembly knuckles, chills shot up all the way to your shoulder. Oh... oh wow. You glanced down at his knuckles on reflex this time, and saw a four-letter word scripted in black ink across the bottom row of his knuckles, and another word scripted on the middle section of his fingers. A silver band on his naked thumb. STAY TRUE, it said.

"And why's that?"

"I.. feel like you're a celebrity," you sheepishly admitted, your other hand wedging into your back pocket as you had to stop yourself from reaching for the bill of your hat again. Is he flirting? The words seem too innocent for the way he was making you feel. It was getting so hot in the oven of his massive palms, and he wasn't even squeezing you hard enough to cut off any circulation, but yet your fingers were beginning to tingle.

"Mm, no. Just a little popular, really," he granted, teetering his head a little as he pondered the thought. You could see his vocal chords contract in his sleek neck as they project his smooth, pungent voice. "You still trust me?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. He'd gotten even closer, to where his hand had gone into a prayer stance around yours. You were aware of how wide your eyes had gone from the awe you... you knew this was just the beginning. He was going to be very handsy throughout this whole process. But in a very twisted way, you were more than okay with that. Even if it meant you were at risk of fainting from actual dehydration. Maybe you were in over your head. But you couldn't will yourself away from this now. And then, just as a wide, heart-stopping smile edged out on that mind-numbingly handsome face, the door at that back of the room swung open, and heavy-metal rock blasted through the quiet vibe of the scenery and caused you to jump a little at the disturbance. Taehyung shot a wicked smile over his shoulder, and his next words nearly knocked you out right then and there as you beheld yet another, breathtaking sight.

"Oh, there you are," Tae eagerly acknowledged, one hand still holding yours as he walked around to grab your with the other, presenting you to the.. hulking presence in the room. "This is (Y/N), our next little experiment."

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alwaysmychoices · 4 years

Text

So, I wrote a HC that was pretty angsty and messy about what would have happened if Ethan and MC started dating after Miami. I still think that would have happened, but I started wondering, “what would I have written if I was writing a cute HC about that?” Next thing I knew, it was 2 am and I was writing this on my phone from my bed.

So, here are all the cuter details about what I think would have happened if they started dating in Book 1.

Ethan & MC Dating after Miami - Cute Moments HC 💖

When Ethan and MC started a relationship in Miami, neither of them had any idea how hard those first six months would be. Between the fights and miscommunications, they were just trying to get to know each other while their personal lives went to hell.

There were breakups, makeups, passive aggressions, avoidance, and even a few rounds of silent treatments.

But there was a reason they always came back. Because, late at night, when they mulled over their loss, it wasn’t the bad things that they thought of - it was the good, the pure, and the four letter word on the tip of their tongue that brought them back to each other’s doorstep time and time again.

Because, when they were good, they were amazing.

Ethan loved to send MC flowers.

Before MC, he had never been the kind of man who sent flowers. They were messy, impermanent, and hard to enjoy when you spent all your time at work.

But one time, MC said she mentioned that she liked buying flowers because they allowed her to enjoy a piece of nature, even when she spent her whole day inside the hospital.

The first time he sent them, Ethan had made a real ass out of himself. He said something stupid at dinner, which lead to a fight. He had already worked it out with MC, and though she assured him it was alright, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to do something to prove that he wasn’t such a jerk. On impulse, he ordered 2 dozen roses to be sent to her apartment.

When she got home to her roommates crowding around the prettiest rose bouquet she had ever seen, it didn’t even cross her mind that it could be for her - not until Elijah supplied the card addressed to her from a secret admirer.

Once she was alone, MC called Ethan to make sure it was really him. She couldn’t imagine him willingly ordering such a romantic gift, but she also couldn’t picture someone else giving it to her.

When she asked him if he bought the flowers, he tensed, afraid he’d accidentally risked their secrecy by sending it to her home, but he anxiously admitted that he did and asked if she liked them.

And when she said she loved them... he felt a feeling so unfamiliar he couldn’t classify it. He was so proud to be the one who sent them and so happy that he found a way to make her smile when he so often felt like he was always messing up with her. Right then, he knew this wouldn’t be the last time he sent her flowers.

And it wasn’t. He regularly sent her bouquets and only let up a little when her roommates became suspicious. Once, when MC was alone in his apartment dog sitting Jenner, he had a massive flower arrangement delivered to her with just the message “I miss you.”

To accommodate their busy schedules, date night usually meant going back to Ethan’s apartment with takeout, but after one too many nights of Thai delivery, Ethan decided to teach MC how to cook.

He was startled to realize she had absolutely no idea how to cook. How had she gotten this far into adulthood without this basic skill? Every week, he had a new recipe for them to try, and he would walk her through all the steps.

When Ethan concentrated on cooking, he got these little lines between his eyebrows. MC thought they were cute. Sometimes, she would smooth them out with her thumb to remind him to relax. Other times, she would kiss them. When she did that, he always became distracted. Once, he almost cut his hand because he was so wrapped up in her.

Ethan pretended to find this annoying, but whenever she did it, he showed a small smile that gave him away.

Their fights were usually brutal. They were both so smart and so stubborn that the fights became unwinnable.

And probably because of that, their debates were practically a force of nature.

More than once, they spent a whole Saturday afternoon half naked in Ethan’s apartment and debating the finer points of medical ethics or treatments for patients. They usually could reach an agreement, except when they debated pineapple on pizza.

They pushed each other.

They made each other better doctors for having worked together and better people for having known each other.

Perhaps more importantly, they cared about each other. Even when they were locked in a disagreement or feigning disinterest, they cared. If the other needed them, they were there.

They needed each other more than they would admit. Very quickly, MC became Ethan's rock as they treated Naveen. She was the only one who could understand what he was going through.

MC was nervous to tell Ethan about being sabotaged at work. She didn't want him to think of her as the kind of person who blamed someone else for her mistakes, but when Landry was exposed as a traitor, she was devastated and just wanted Ethan to comfort her.

When he found out all that Landry did, Ethan was furious. Beyond hurting his girlfriend, he had endangered dozens of patients and the stability of the whole hospital.

But he was also hurt that MC hadn't told him.

Ethan realized that he wanted to be the person she shared her problems with. He wanted to be her person, just like she was his.

MC was surprised that, when it came to someone insulting or hurting her, Ethan was always on her side - even when she was equally as guilty. Once, MC complained that an attending made a sexist, offhand comment during rounds. Ethan never liked that attending again. When someone hit on MC and made her uncomfortable when they were at a bar together, Ethan told him off and forced him to leave.

Ethan was equally surprised by how jealous MC could get. He rarely noticed when women flirted with him, so it took him a few months to detect MC's jealousy. The first time he saw it, they were having a drink at a bar. A woman was very shamelessly coming onto him, though she didn't get much of Ethan's attention, but MC looked furious. Every time the woman came over to talk to them, MC moved just a little bit closer until she was almost in his lap.

When he took MC home, he commented on it, assuring her that he was only there for her, but MC grumbled that it happened all the time and that he didn't notice.

So, he started paying attention, and wow, it happened way more often than he thought. Even patients flirted with him, earning a glare from MC.

Once, when Ethan and MC were in the middle of a really big fight, Ethan caught MC staring at him at Donahue’s. To get a rise out of her, Ethan started flirting with the woman sitting a few seats down at the bar. MC was outraged. Thirty minutes later, when he got up to leave, MC followed him out, and they yelled at each other in the ally. And then they made out in the ally and had sex in the back of his car.

The next morning, they acted like nothing happened at work.

In fact, that was usually how they acted at work.

But at the beginning of their relationship, there were plenty of cute moments to be had at Edenbrook.

Like when their hands would accidentally brush when looking over a chart. Or when Ethan's breath hit her neck when he looked over her shoulder to see if she was doing something right. Or secret meetings in his office under the guise of needing to talk about a patient.

But MC thought the sweetest moments where the ones when he would see her coming down the hall, and just for a second, his face soften and warm to her. Almost immediately after, his face would harden again as he got back to work. But in that short little moment, MC knew she made him happy.

Keeping the secret was so hard, especially when MC was always under the watchful eyes of her roommates and friends.

They were all convinced she was in love with someone and joked that she had a secret boyfriend. MC laughed along, but they never actually thought it was Dr. Ramsey.

To make it a little less obvious, she always joined in when they complained about him.

Ethan noticed and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t stop her.

The only person who noticed in Ethan’s life was Naveen, but Ethan skillfully dodged the question whenever he could.

However, they had almost been caught so many times, in and out of the hospital. Even at the farmer’s market, they weren’t safe from a coworker finding them and innocently approaching.

MC always looked around before she kissed him, and Ethan had to be at least 5 miles from the hospital to show any display of affection, not that he particularly liked public displays of affection in the first place.

MC knew that she loved Ethan before she even really knew him, which was terrifying. She worried that, one day, she would learn some horrible fact or realize some unforgiveable trait. Ethan, on the other hand, never imagined that MC would become ruined in his eyes. He didn't think she could. No, he worried that he would be the one to make the mistake.

Both them harbored a lot of insecurities in their relationship - insecurities that held them back.

When they shed them, even just for the night, it was incredible.

Some of the best nights were spent wine-drunk, oversharing hundreds of little details that shaped who they were. MC liked hearing about Ethan's childhood, and she frequently needled him about his mysterious past relationship with Harper. Ethan wanted to know everything about her adult life before him, even when it included ex-boyfriends he instinctively hated.

When their relationship settled into comfortable, stable commitment, they still had nights like that.

Even when they moved in together, they sometimes picked out a bottle of wine, finished the whole thing, and spent the second bottle of wine sharing stories and experiences.

That was when it felt real. That was what reminded them that this was magic - that this was love.

@stateofgracious I think this was kinda cute, so maybe I can do some cute ones 🤞

#Ethan Ramsey #Ethan Ramsey x mc #Open Heart #Open heart 2 #choices #choices stories you play #pixelberry

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kitaychan · 3 years

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We need to talk

Summary: After a breakup, Ivan realizes his life was not as fullfilling as he had thought. Reaching out to old friends might prove to be a slow task with interesting outcomes.

Chapter preview: Yao sighed, peering over to the kitchen, he gasped and hurried inside. “How did you set my teapot on fire?”

Ivan could hear Arthur’s alarmed voice and the water tap running. “I don’t know.”

He approached the kitchen, the smell of smoke was stronger and he found Arthur frowning alongside Yao inspecting the blackened teapot.

The brown haired man huffed, leaving the teapot on the sink. “Stop burning things, Alfred is not around, so you can quit gaining his attention.”

“It was an accident and I asked for help, neither of you seemed to notice, are you deaf?”

“You are banned from my kitchen, now. Go and commit arson on your boyfriend’s house, he can manage the fires quickly.”

Ivan let out a laugh. “I am totally going to tell Alfred about this.”

Scrolling down memes on his phone, Ivan glanced at the hour, he had spent at least half an hour just looking at his phone, on the back of his head, deep inside, he knew that he was delaying the inevitable.

He typed out a simple ‘hello’ before erasing it, why was it so hard to start a conversation? Alfred would just send him a random picture and they would talk about it or start a string of random pictures, but now, Ivan found it difficult to send a simple greeting to Yao. What should he say? What if he was busy?

He managed to gather enough words to form a coherent greeting alongside the question of ‘What are you up to?’

Dread invaded him instantly after he sent it. Perhaps that was too vague, or too informal. He sighed, setting the phone aside, it was done and he couldn’t take the message back, that was better, he’d be overthinking the whole day anyways.

This day, he was less worried about the nonexistent alarm that set off in his mind in the mornings, and more focused on the little pang of guilt that told him that he was wasting his time.

He took a breath, reminding himself that he was on vacation, he had nothing to worry about besides his cat and trying not to be a burden to Katya, whom unlike him, had left earlier to give off her classes.

He played for a while with his cat, the entertainment was short as Boris decided it was better to lie on his side instead of hunting the toy, Ivan poked a bit at the fluffy cat to make him move again but it didn’t budge, wiggling its tail.

The day passed rather slowly, Ivan had tried not to go out, not wanting to spend the time by himself in the park again, though the prospect of finding Yao again crossed his mind, he figured the man would be working just as Katya was.

Of course he was, that was probably why he couldn’t answer. Ivan sighed, why did he have to keep worrying about it? this was what he hated about being alone, his thoughts would be nagging at him, he had to find something to do or he would be anxious about a message the whole day.

He sighed, focusing on the lonely plant by the window, he searched around the house, finding some paints. It was time to stop delaying his task and deliver that child’s project.

The base was fairly easy if he remembered well, the background was mostly blue with some clouds around. What worried him was the boat, as he wasn’t used to painting at all, and well, he’d never made a decent boat.

He left the pot aside so the blue paint could dry, perhaps he could ask for help with it later.

Ivan glanced at the clock again, time had passed and Katya would probably arrive soon but he couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed at the passiveness of his day.

His phone buzzed, taking him out of his thoughts. The short message displayed made him pause.

“Hi, sorry, I forgot my phone, I’ve just headed back from work. Do you want to come to my house?”

Ivan had to double check his phone.Firstly, to make sure that it was in fact a message coming from Yao, and secondly, to process the question.

Another message appeared.

“Are you busy?”

Ivan smiled, it’s not like he had anything better to do and at this point he’d be delighted to busy himself with anything.

Feeling less awkward he replied. “Not really, I was trying to paint the boat on the flower pot but I am failing at it. Anyway, yeah it’d be nice to talk”

“In that case, bring it with you, I’ll help. Let’s meet at the park, I have to see Arthur there.”

Ivan pondered for a moment giving out an affirmative reply, he wrote a note to Katya so she wouldn’t worry, grabbed a coat, the flower pot and left.

Once in the park, he went to buy some pastries, it would be mean to present himself empty handed, right? He even got another bottle of wine, to replace the one from yesterday. The cashier handed him everything on a paper bag that he carried quite difficulty.

He sat outside on the same bench, it was indeed a nice place. He could see Arthur and Yao approaching, both of them were wrapped with scarves and heavy coats, the latter was holding two cups of hot coffee.

Yao handed him one of the cups. “I’m so sorry, How long have you been waiting?”

Ivan shrugged, taking the beverage. “Not much.”

“For real, you can be as petty as you want, it was Arthur’s fault that we were held back.”

Arthur, groaned, taking a sip of his own drink. “I only said that they didn’t know how to make iced tea, I thought it was obvious.”

“The barista didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“If they want to make iced tea, they have to make tea, let it cool and add the ice. Not use that horrible mix with water.” The Englishman frowned, observing his drink. “At least they make good coffee.”

“Not really.” Yao let off a huff, ushering them to follow. “Anyway, let’s go upstairs, it is freezing down here. Aren’t you cold, Ivan?”

“I’m a bit used to it, it’s more chilly where I live.” Ivan paused, the englishman seemed to notice his hesitation, taking the paper bag and allowing him to finish his coffee and carry the plant.

Ivan walked with them, taking short steps. They questioned him about the city, about his work, his coworkers, Ivan had to suppress his frown at the last topic.

Yao’s apartment was warm, Arthur stepped in casually, making a beeline to the table while Yao took the flower pot from him so he could take off his coat.

Ivan fumbled a bit with his scarf, leaving it on and approaching the table. There were a few stocks of papers and books scattered on it.

Yao laughed nervously. “Sorry for the mess, I was revising some exams last night.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, setting the bag on the table, the Englishman raised an eyebrow and stared at him. “Yao, did you cook Francis’ recipe yesterday?”

The brown haired man nodded, placing the plant on the table. "Yeah, it took me some time and I had to buy wine because he would not leave me alone until I did."

"You let the frog get away with his quirks, he drinks wine with everything. I hope the dish was worth the expensive wine."

"It totally was." Ivan said, regretting his words as Arthur's expression changed into amusement.

Yao retrieved the books from the table, shaking his head. "Stop staring like that, we met at the store and I invited him."

"Sure… that's why you still have exams to grade, right?" The Englishman taunted, holding out one of the papers.

Yao hummed, fumbling with the papers. “You have delayed exams too.”

"True but why did he bring wine?” Arthur smiled, turning his stare at Ivan. “Are you following Francis’ advice or something?"

Ivan tensed a bit, at this point everything he'd say would be used by Arthur to tease them. “It is polite to bring a present when you visit someone’s house.”

“How dare you speak to me about proper manners,” Arthur chuckled, collecting papers from the table. "Yao has a good collection of books and I need to complain about it, you will help me out, right?"

"Not my fault that you burnt yours to get a date." Yao retorted, laying some brushes and paints on the table and taking a seat beside Ivan.

Arthur gasped. "If you keep that cocky grin on your face, I will kick you out."

Ivan watched in awe as Yao took a pencil, tracing swiftly the sketch of a small boat on the flower pot. "This is my house, you can't kick me out. What books do you need?"

The Englishman stood up, observing the books displayed on the shelf. He turned around with a serious expression on his face “Ivan, have you read ´War and peace’?”

“Uh not really, I have a copy laying around but I don’t think I ever finished it.” Ivan shrugged, toying with a brush.

“What keeps you from reading it? Is it the french parts of it?”

“I am actually fluent in french so...” Ivan saw how Arthur’s smile changed into a grimace, had he said something wrong? He quickly added. “I just hadn’t taken the time to actually read it.”

Arthur grabbed a couple of books, taking a seat. “I remember you once delivered a paper about The great Gatsby, it was very interesting though quite weak at the end.”

Ivan glanced at Yao in an attempt to ask for help but the grin the brown haired man held on his face told him that he wouldn’t get any. He laughed nervously. “I barely remember what I ate for breakfast, I don’t think I will recall something I wrote on highschool.”

Yao’s laughter filled the room, Ivan couldn’t help but stare at him, it was not rare to see the chinese smile, but it was certainly pleasant to hear his laugh, he found himself laughing too, Arthur joining as well.

They shared a glass of wine and devoured the pastries, Ivan painted slowly the small boat and answered more of Arthur’s questions, Yao praised his patience every now and then until Arthur left him alone in order to make some tea.

Ivan watched closely as Yao traced details on the little boat skillfully, silence enveloped them as he finished.

Turning back, he could hear Arthur pacing around in the kitchen but he could not see him.

He took a long breath before leaning over the table, just a bit, in order to gain Yao’s attention, the brown haired man set aside the brush, arching an eyebrow.

“When you invited me over, I didn’t think it would end up like this.” Ivan admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Yao tilted his head, a small smirk gracing his face. “Why?”

Ivan fidgeted with his scarf, he didn’t know how he was able to hold his gaze, he felt his face almost burning with embarrassment but he had already dug his grave so he might as well just die on it already, he reached out to take Yao’s hand, and lowered his voice. “Well… for starters, I didn’t think that Arthur would be acompaining us.”

Ivan considered the idea of not coming back to the town when Yao retreated his hand and chuckled, this was like highschool all over again but perhaps ten times worse because he had hoped to be on the right track just once, and now, he dreaded his sole existence.

No matter how much he tried to shrink on himself, to hide under his scarf, he would not disappear from the situation.

His train of thought was stopped or more accurately, smacked back to reality by a soft hand caressing his cheek. He could barely register Yao’s words. “You are fun to tease.”

Ivan nodded slowly, he was doomed, wasn’t he? He wanted nothing but melt on this man’s hands, he knew he was blushing, but this time, he didn’t mind it.

He gathered enough courage to lean forward, barely brushing his lips with the other, Yao’s hand moved to the back of his head, pushing him lightly so their lips met.

“Bloody hell!”

They both flinched back, Ivan had forgotten about Arthur’s existence, a sense of self awareness flared up in him but it didn’t manage to overcome the annoyance he felt. The Englishman was nowhere to be seen.

Yao sighed, peering over to the kitchen, he gasped and hurried inside. “How did you set my teapot on fire?”

Ivan could hear Arthur’s alarmed voice and the water tap running. “I don’t know.”

He approached the kitchen, the smell of smoke was stronger and he found Arthur frowning alongside Yao inspecting the blackened teapot.

The brown haired man huffed, leaving the teapot on the sink. “Stop burning things, Alfred is not around so you can quit gaining his attention.”

“It was an accident and I asked for help, neither of you seemed to notice, are you deaf?”

“You are banned from my kitchen, now. Go and commit arson on your boyfriend’s house, he can manage the fires quickly.”

Ivan let out a laugh. “I am totally going to tell Alfred about this.”

Arthur groaned. “From everyone you could have chosen to embarrass me in front of, it has to be with the one person Alfred has a direct line with, you are the best of friends, Yao.”

Sending pictures of a burnt teapot to Alfred wasn’t the way Ivan thought his night would end but he was delighted by today’s happenings.

Not only could he get another kiss from Yao before leaving, he had asked him out on an actual date, much to the Englishman's amusement, the remarks the latter made after they left Yao’s house weren’t embarrassing anymore.

Ivan had entered a state of sheepish acceptance, if he had to take on Arthur’s teasing in order to date Yao, then so be it.

#hetalia fanfiction #hws russia #hws china #hws england #rochu #hws rochu #my writing #hetalia

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summonerscenarios · 4 years

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Just because I think it'd be funny, how do you think Gabriel, Bathym, and Hakumen (while hanging with Mc)would react to someone asking for an autograth, and assume they're asking for their autograth, only for the person to pull away with a look of absoluts confusion, and clarify that they want Mc's autograph

Hoooo boy this one is going to be a doozy lmao. I can feel the second hand embarrassment of this situation the whole time I wrote this~

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Gabriel

Spending time with Gabriel in public often means that the two of you get accosted by fans all the time. She’s a well known face in Tokyo as both a lovable idol and overall pop-angel sensation, so running into people begging for autographs, pictures or otherwise is par from the course when it comes to being her friend. Which is exactly why, when the two of you spend a day out shopping together, you’re fully expecting someone to recognize the angel at any moment and swoop in vying for Gabriel’s attention in one way or another.

The two of you had ducked into a clothing store to take a look through some of the items that had caught your eye as you’d walked past, and you were busying yourself viewing the displays as you listened to Gabriel excitedly chatter away when you felt a hand tap your shoulder. Turning to your left, you come face to face with someone you’ve never seen before - they’re bouncing on the balls of their feet and they flash you such an excitable smile that you’d think they’d just won the lottery if they weren’t looking directly at you. Gabriel notices them as well, as she peeks over your shoulder upon noticing you’ve gone quiet and smiles when she sees them talking to you. This person’s all too eager to pull out a small book and a pen, practically brimming with energy as they ask for an autograph - at that you make a noise of realization, immediately assuming that this must be one of Gabriel’s fans, so you excuse yourself and step out of the way so as to not get in the way of their request. Gabriel must have the same idea, as she steps forward to take over and asks about the autograph - she’s used to signing them all the time so she settles into the welcoming professional with ease and you expect it to go off without a hitch.

But then the fan proceeds to look right past Gabriel and over to you, holding up the book and pen and once the confusion wears off you’re taken aback when you realize that they’re actually asking you. It’s easy to see the shock on Gabriel’s face when they dart past her and over to you, and when you shoot her a nervous look, a lot less used to this than she it, you catch her expression startled expression and she lets a pout cross over her face for but a few moments. Even caught off guard, you still take the time to give them your autograph, listening to the fan excitedly ramble about how much they look up to you and how amazing you are as you do so. It’s enough to fluster you a little at being confronted with a barrage of praise from someone who views you so highly, but you’re still incredibly confused on why they would come to you - you’re so used to fans swarming Gabriel, so having a fan of your own and having the tables turned is a weird thought to wrap your head around. The interaction is brief, and you wish them well as they scamper off, brimming with joy and clutching their newly signed book close to their chest as they practically skip away,

You’re still trying to wrap your head over what just happened when you notice Gabriel watching the fan walk away she’s got a perplexed look on her face, brows furrowed in an expression unusually serious for the usually chipper idol. She’s not used to being passed over, especially when it comes to all things fan-based, so you can tell she’s still somewhat baffled, but when you call out her name she brightens up and spins back around to face you, smile on her face as she approaches you and links arms with you. She settles close up against your side, close enough that you’re pretty sure Hati would keel over on the spot if he saw you two, and she comments on how that was fun. You don’t think she’s jealous, but you can tell that the situation made her a bit embarrassed, so when she pulls you along to continue shopping and forget the whole thing you humor her and follow along letting her lead you.

Bathym

Bathym’s got quite the reputation both inside and outside of the Berserker’s guild, and he does his best to cultivate his growing fanbase, thriving off of the the people who adore him and vy for his attention and making no show of hiding that fact. Most of his fans swarm him after tournaments or just outside of the Colosseum, though most of them are usually handled by Andvari since he’s in charge of Bathym’s branding and merchandise. You’ve seen the occasional fan manage to find him and beg for pictures of autographs, so when you spot one hanging around while the two of you are out you don’t really bat an eye at the fact.

The two of you spot the fan approaching, they’ve been skirting around for a little while, clearly nervous about coming over but they seem to have plucked up the courage to come forward. Bathym flashes you a knowing grin and stands up, smoothing out his tail and perfecting his pose before he swaggers over to greet them, and you can already hear the sweet talk he’s gonna butter them up with before it even leaves his mouth as you watch it all unfold. You expect them to stop since he’s approaching them instead, but then they nervously duck right past him and continue walking straight towards you, and you immediately straighten up. Bathym looks flabbergasted when he turns back to you, the first time you’ve seen him genuinely astonished in a while, and you’re sure you look just as surprised when this fan shuffles nervously up to you and hesitantly asks if it’s okay to get an autograph from you, face red as they wait your response. The moment you hear they’re your fan, you just about fall out of your seat, scrambling to balance yourself if you ask if they’re serious.

When they say they are, and offer you a pen to sign you try to mask your surprise and give them a smile, asking them to take a seat next to you while you signed - it was mostly because having someone hovering over you expectantly felt a bit weird, but they seem to calm down having somewhere to sit, apparently relieved that you’re so welcoming as soon enough they’re talking all about how much they admire what you do, and how cool you are while you write out a small message for them. Soon enough you’ve got everything signed and handed back to them, watching their eyes light up as they spring from their seat and thank you profusely, nervousness turned to happiness by the time you’ve got them sent on their way.

Not even a moment after they’ve left Bathym hums as he approaches, shaking his head as he slides into the now vacant seat beside you and slings an arm across your shoulder. He pouts and comments how it makes sense that such a cute master is going to have fans, soon enough you’ll have a whole fanclub if you really wanted! Then, Bathym flashes you a grin as he adds that it looks like he’s gonna have to keep an eye out for competition from now on, after all, he can’t just let anybody come in and sweep you out from under him~! When you try to wave off his concerns and playfully swat him away he makes a show of feigning hurt though he insists that it’s true~! You just don’t realize it yet. It’s hard to tell if he’s telling the truth, or even how he feels about the whole thing, but that look on his face when that fan first approached you makes you feel as though Bathym was maybe a little envious - then again, it’s hard to tell when it comes to the usually eccentric demon.

Hakumen

Roppongi’s full of people of power, so it makes sense that its hierarchy is governed by such - whether it’s status, wealth or both, the more you have of it, the better. And with Hakumen being at the metaphorical top of the pecking order with the other major Tycoons, catching the eyes of the masses and bringing in the attention of all lucky enough to be in her presence is all par for the course. And by default, that means you often around when these interactions occur, so you’ve seen your fair share of people swarming the fox looking to get into her good books or at least earn some of her favor - it;s both entertaining and a little embarrassing to watch, but Hakumen handles them all well enough, and if she’s not interested in interacting them there’s always plenty of security to usher those ‘fans’ away soon enough.

You’d been invited to the casino, having been seemingly dragged along to view some new addition to the already impressively intimidating building to see how well it will fit, and you’d spent the majority of that time flitting about the pace. You’d exchanged words and shook hands with more unfamiliar faces than you’d like to be around, and you were relieved when Hakumen had shown up in a flurry of pride and energy, turning every eye in her direction. Almost every eye, anyway. You feel better no longer being on your own around unfamiliar faces, and you could see that your attachment to her at the moment clearly stroked her ego as she seemed keen to lead you around, mingling amongst guild members and discussing plans regarding the casino’s build. Most of it went over your head, so you eventually trailed behind to chat with Xolotl who kept watch as his mistress moved around, exchanging pleasantries right up until you caught someone moving out of the corner of your eye.

It was someone you’d never seen before, a guest maybe, and they were approaching Hakumen who stood in front of you so quickly that you were pretty sure that they were going right for her, excitedly yelling something about an autograph as they approached. As the fan got closer, Xolotl made a move to slow them down, but Hakumen, likely wanting to show off, waved him off with a hand and spun around, fully preparing for a slew of praises and things to sign. You’d stepped back a bit to let this all unfold, turning your attention to elsewhere in the casino while you waited for her to finish up, but upon hearing a surprised yelp from Hakumen’s bodyguard your attention abruptly snaps back to the current moment, just in time to nearly get knocked right off of your feet by that very same fan. Amongst their babbling as they cling to your arm you make out ‘autograph’, ‘please’ and ‘biggest fan’ and the pieces gradually begin clicking into place as you look up from the fan to see Hakumen, still frozen in the place she’d been before.

The expression on Hakumen’s face is priceless, you don’t think you’ve seen her quite so frazzled, jealousy practically bubbling under the surface of a facade you can clearly see through. Honestly seeing her like this is kind of amusing, though you don’t know whether it’s because you’ve got someone about five seconds away from jumping into your arms or because she isn’t the center of the fan’s attention. Xolotl looks worriedly between his mistress and you, and the two of you share a look that spells that this fan just hit a nerve without realizing it, so before anything else happens you calm the person down and pat yourself down looking for a pen. You’re fortunate enough to find one in your pocket, and make quick work of signing the autograph and letting them go, returning back to Hakumen’s side with a comment about how you don’t know how she deals with doing that every day. You’re playing into her pride hoping to change the subject, and it does the trick, however the moment you’re back by her side she’s got both hands on your shoulders for the remainder of the guests’ visit, shooting looks at the fan whenever the three of you cross paths and she thinks you aren’t looking.

#Anonymous #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #headcanons #imagines #gabriel #housamo gabriel #bathym #housamo bathym #hakumen #housamo hakumen #request #ask

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thetenthdoctorscompanion · 3 years

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25 “Let’s adopt twenty cats together and treat them like our children.” + Sadie/Lydia

“Ugh. I hate men. I hate them!”

Lydia slammed the door to my bedroom, marched across the carpet, and collapsed face-first onto my bed. I snickered, barely looking up from my copy of Heart of Darkness.

“Bad date?”

She lifted her head, violently flipping her hair out of her face to fix me with a stern glare. “It was not a date.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“It doesn’t have to be a date for me to expect common decency and a baseline of human intelligence. And even if that was supposed to be a date, the four hours I just experienced were so abysmal that they would not qualify as a date in any sense of the word.”

“So he didn’t get you off.”

“Please, Sadie. That’s a given.”

I smirked and finally put my book aside. Lydia had been on about a hundred “not-a-dates” over the course of the summer. She’d narrowed her interests down a few options she had in steady rotation, but every now and then another boy would slip her his number and she was take the chance to switch things up. Unfortunately, the longer the summer stretched on, the harder it became to please her. (Emotionally and physically, judging by the explicit details of the stories she insisted on relaying to me.) I couldn’t remember the last time she’d come home in any state of satisfaction.

I nudged her with my foot, prompting her to drag herself up and lean against the wall opposite me. She tangled her legs with mine, folding her arms over her chest and pouting. I squeezed her legs between mine and gave her a pointed look.

“What?” she snapped.

“Okay, the last thing I want to do is have you bite my head off, but I have to ask. If you’re not going on dates then…what exactly are you looking to get out of this?”

Lydia rolled her eyes at me. “I don’t need to be in a relationship to have fun, Sadie.”

“I know that. You also don’t need boys to have fun. And judging by the last few horror stories you’ve told me, you’re not having fun doing this anyway.”

“Yes, I am.”

I gave her another pointed look, spearing her stubbornness and making her deflate. Lydia sighed and ran her hands through her hair. It looked even more red now than it had last year.

“I have fun sometimes,” she amended. “Most of the time, I just…don’t feel much of anything.”

“Is that…the point?” I asked tentatively.

Lydia pursed her lips once more. “Do you really need to psychoanalyze me right now? I’m perfectly capable of evaluating my own neurosis, and I’ve already spent most of the night being told how I feel by someone extremely unqualified to be doing so.”

I raised my hands in surrender and picked up my book again. Lydia always had to do things her way. If she wanted to plunge herself into a string of meaningless, lackluster hookups instead of dealing with the fact that Jackson was gone, that was her prerogative. Trying to get her to talk to me would only make things worse.

Lydia continued to sulk for a few minutes, then untangled her legs from mine. She crawled across the bed to sit next to me instead, leaning her arm against mine as she toyed with her phone. We coexisted in comfortable silence—Lydia scrolling through her phone to set up her next not-a-date, me flipping through my summer reading for the third time. I hated this book so much that no matter how many times my eyes scanned over the pages, the words kept slipping through my brain. Reading Heart of Darkness, I probably wasn’t thinking or feeling any more than Lydia was.

I snapped out of it when Lydia’s phone dropped on top of my book and, instinctually, I rammed my eyes close. These days, when Lydia shoved her phone in my face, it was usually to share an unsolicited picture or obscene text from one of her booty calls—I was adapting to avoid her phone at all costs, just for survival—but for the moment, Lydia snorted and nudged my arm. When I peeled my eyes open to check, her screen simply displayed a take-out menu.

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked with an air of boredom.

“Dinner?” I blinked at her. “Aren’t you going out? I thought you had a double dude feature lined up.”

“I cancelled. If I’m gonna feel like garbage, it might as well be because of too much pizza instead of lame foreplay.”

She was still pretending to be disinterested, but her pursed lips were hiding a smile. Mine grew into a grin and Lydia gave me a playful warning look.

“Choose before I change my mind.”

“Fine, fine. Girls’ night it is.”

And that was what we did. Lydia cancelled her hookups for both the night and the following day. I texted Stiles to let him know I was bailing on video game night to stay in with Lydia. He tried to trash talk me a little, saying that I was hiding because I didn’t want to lose the tournament, but when I reminded him of our current tally of wins and losses in Mario Kart, he promptly dropped the subject.

Hours later, Lydia and I were sprawled on my bedroom floor, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and sharing a dwindling bottle of rum. Lydia had pulled a bottle from her personal stash and spiked some juice, which we were burning through like gas.

Drinking with Lydia was usually very easy. She knew how to hold her liquor, but she was also way smaller than me. Between my height and her experience, we were pretty evenly matched. I wasn’t sure if it was her bad date, her feelings about Jackson, or sheer boredom, but at the moment, it was easy to tell that Lydia was far tipsier than I was.

“How did you do it?” she asked the ceiling. Her legs were tucked up against her chest, feet dangling in the air, her arms keeping her balanced on the carpet. “How did you find a boy who doesn’t suck?”

“Are you actually complimenting Stiles?” I giggled into my drink. “Wow. Now I know you’re drunk.”

Lydia giggled too, and let her legs flop back to the floor with a thump.

“Okay, I know he’s a dork and he’s a nerd and he’s still very much not cool, but I—I try to be nice to him! I try to be nice because you love him and he loves you and—and that’s so important, you know? He loves you so much, and he would do anything for you, and I—I don’t know how you did it or what that feels like or what that’s like!”

My laughter quickly died away. “Lydia…”

“No, it’s fine. It is. It’s fine because I want you to be happy and I’m happy that you’re happy and I’m happy that Stiles is the one who makes you happy, but even if I—even if Jacks—even if he was still here, I don’t know how much would change, you know? We were never—we were never like that. And he changed a lot. He did, I know, and he did so much work, and he was such a better person, and I—I loved him for it. And I think—I know he loved me too, but—but maybe it’s not the same, because…because if he loved me the way Stiles loves you then he would—he wouldn’t have—”

She wasn’t crying, not yet, but I could see her working herself into hysterics. I hurriedly pushed myself up onto my knees and crawled to her. She whined in protest as I lifted her head into my lap, but she quieted down as I combed my fingers through her hair. Slowly, her breathing began to normalize. She sagged against me, her eyes glazed as she continued to stare at the ceiling, and I moved from brushing her hair to absently braiding it. It was the only thing I could think of to keep her present without prying into her thoughts.

I knew Lydia was hurting without Jackson; I also knew she didn’t want to talk about it. Even now, drunker than I’d ever seen her, she couldn’t bring herself to even say his name. She’d always had her insecurities, but if she’d felt worthless when Jackson broke up with her, it was nothing compared to watching him leave a second time. She’d done so much to save him, and he’d still left her behind.

That’s what brought her to the hookups. It was her way of passing the time, of keeping herself occupied so she wouldn’t have time to miss Jackson. So long as boys still wanted her, she wasn’t worthless. So long as she still had a full social calendar, she was still Queen Lydia Martin, the most popular girl at Beacon Hills High School. So long as she kept moving, she wouldn’t have to confront how much things had changed.

I tied off the bottom of the braid and laid Lydia’s head back on the floor, then scooted across the carpet so I could sprawl out next to her. I laid flat on my back, my head lolling to the side to look at her.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing her hand, “you of all people should know that it’s impossible not to love you. You’re Lydia Martin, remember? Parties or werewolves, boyfriend or no boyfriend—you’re the smartest, strongest person I know. You’re perfect all on your own. Lydia Martin doesn’t need anyone.”

“That’s not true.” Lydia’s voice was soft, and she shook her head at the ceiling. “I need you.”

The words made me smile. I opened my arms as Lydia rolled onto her side, curling up next to me and laying her head on my shoulder.

“Well then,” I said, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. You’re not allowed to. I’m serious, Sadie. You—you’re gonna live here until we graduate, and then we’re gonna go to college together, and get a little apartment while we job hunt, and then we can get a house, and Allison can come and visit and—cats! Let’s adopt twenty cats together and treat them like our children!”

I snorted, my back rocking off the floor in a way that sent Lydia into another tirade of giggles.

“Yeah, you’re definitely drunk,” I observed.

“I know,” she said, still beaming at me. “But I am serious. You’re not allowed to leave me, Sadie. Promise.”

“I promise, Lydia. I’m not going anywhere.”

#my girls #tws prompt #the wild side #lydie #prompts #this one is a little longer to make up for the short scott one

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