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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now. So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together. Is he doing alright? You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people. “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted. “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again. “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger. “I mean, sapphires? Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented.

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked. “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too. She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder. “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat. Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it. "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen. But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard. "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really. I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up. "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

#bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes bodyguard au

758 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Twelve Days of Christmas - Day Seven

Prompt: Starry Night.

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader (BNHA).

TW: Prolonged Imprisonment, Mentions of Kidnapping, Disassociation, Infantilization, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, and Gaslighting.

It was easy to forget how big the world was, sometimes.

Well, it wasn’t easy. Even in Keigo’s villa, on the outskirts of the city where the nearest neighbor was still separated by an acre of forest and wilderness, you felt small. The high ceilings made sure of that, as did the bright lights and bulletproof glass and the oversized clothes he was so fond of bringing home for you, things he claimed he bought for himself, but you’d never seen him wear, not before passing them on to you. You didn’t mind, most of the time. You felt small, sure, but you’d felt too cramped in your old apartment, in the job you’d worked too hard at to make so little, in the basement you knew you’d be shoved in if you ever complained, and feeling small was better. It wasn’t more enjoyable, but it was more comfortable. Keigo was nicer, when you felt small.

But, so far from the nearest skyscraper, the world around you felt big. Not just tall, not just open, but endless, a vast expanse of darkness and snow and sky that ran on for miles without interruption. If you glanced over your shoulder, you might still be able to see the dull glow of Keigo’s villa, the evidence of lasting civilization, but you didn’t check, keeping your eyes fixed on the ground ahead.

You hadn’t thought to grab shoes, before you left. To be fair, you hadn’t planned to leave, but Keigo was tired, today. He’d forgotten to lock the front door when he got home, and somewhere between greeting him and starting dinner, you’d noticed the inconsistency. It’d just been a step onto the porch, at first, then a walk down the driveway. Then, your feet were in the snow and you were pushing forward, weaving around roots and outstretched branches as you trailed after nothing in particular, following an urge you should’ve known better than to indulge. You probably left the door open, you don’t remember stopping to close it. Keigo was probably--

“Angel? Are you out here?”

Keigo was probably getting worried.

You couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes, but he already sounded concerned. He usually was, when it came to you, always shaking his head or narrowing his eyes or yelling, on the rare occasions you did something bad enough to warrant it. This might count as something bad enough. It had a few months ago, when you’d hidden away food and water bottles and as much money as you could find before stealing his keys and slipping out, but that’d been purposeful, you’d been trying to escape. You weren’t going to escape, this time. You knew that was unrealistic, even if a writhing, fiery part of you was still tempted to try.

“C’mon, baby, it’s cold out here! Let’s go back inside! I promise, I’m not angry!”

He was raising his voice, now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The forest was starting to thin, now, and without warning, you emerged into a small clearing, just big enough to let you tilt your head back. That was why you’d come out here, honestly, why you were willing to take whatever punishment Keigo chose, when you went home.

You wanted to see the sky.

You never got to see it in the city, or, you never got to see it like this, at least. Grey and lavender smeared against black, streams of navy mixed with turquoise so bright, you could’ve mistaken it for dawn rather than a few hours after dusk. And, dotted across all of it, were the stars, points of pink and white and purple that stretched into the horizon, only disappearing when the ground rose to meet them. Instantly, you didn’t care about the chill, about Keigo, about the fact that you’d probably spend the next two weeks locked in a warm, stuffy bedroom while your captor went off to play hero, it couldn’t be… it wasn’t important. It couldn’t be. You couldn’t stand the thought of letting it be.

It was small. It was all so, so small.

None of it could matter. Not compared to something so big.

You didn’t blink. For as long as you were able to, you stayed there, staring upward, even as something heavy draped itself over your shoulders, wrapping you in layers of cloth and faux-fur before you were pulled off your feet and dragged into Keigo’s chest, his wings closing in around you, finally blocking your view. You sighed, but if Keigo noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He was busy fretting over you, pushing feather-light kisses into the nape of your neck and your shoulders while you mourned your loss silently. “I thought I’d lost you, this time,” He said, the words coming out breathy, fading into a chuckle before he was really finished. He shifted, one arm moving underneath the bend of your knees, and you tried not to resist, only clinging to the coat he’d thrown onto you. You hadn’t realized how cold it was, not until he showed up. Not until you had someone to remind you to shiver. “Don’t scare me like that, angel. You know you shouldn’t be out here all alone.”

“I wasn’t trying to run away.” It felt pointless to say. Even in the dim light, you could make out his smile, how it didn’t falter when you spoke. If he believed you, he didn’t care. You couldn’t say you blamed him, by now. “I just… I needed some fresh air. I was going to come back.”

“I never said you weren’t.” But, he was already turning around, starting back towards his villa, not giving you the option to walk on your own. “But, rules are rules. If I let you sneak out tonight, what’s stopping you from doing it tomorrow? And it stresses me out when you put yourself in that kind of danger, remember? I can’t just let this slide.” Now, it was his turn to sigh. “We’ll have to get your old room ready, and your collar, too. Just to make sure you don’t pull this kind of stunt again. You understand why, right?”

You didn’t, not really, but you nodded regardless. There wouldn’t be a point in refusing.

It’s not like any of this would matter, in the end.

476 notes · View notes

koeyohte · 3 years

Text

It’s bright in the hallway. Sunlight streams in from the expansive glass doors and windows just a few steps away in the atrium. The campus has received many remodels in the past few years and I’m fortunate to be taking two of my semester’s classes in this airy building.

I’ve never been good with school. Other students could casually discuss what they’d learned or cram their study session in the night before an exam and do just fine. I’ve always needed extra help - after hours work from the teachers, tutors, extravagant memory solutions. I’d finished high school last year and now was waiting, alone, outside a closed wood door where my english literature class would take place; not for a while though, I think, glancing down at my phone. I’m always early to class. For now, I’m sitting on the floor, plucking at stray fibers of material from my jean shorts and wondering if wearing leggings would have been a better idea. The tile is a cold shock to my skin whenever I touch it.

I’ve been taking this class for three weeks now - two days in each of those weeks on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I look hopefully down the hallway, toward the atrium. There’s usually a quiet young man who arrives early and waits across from me. He keeps to himself and is always reading something. I think he’s nice to look at, though I would never admit it out loud. He’s a bit unusual looking - angular features compliment a frame that’s thin and wiry, but with broad shoulders that make him appear larger than he likely really is. His hair falls just past his shoulders, which is unusual around here. I’ve never seen a man around my age with long hair. When I’m sitting on the floor, he seems rather tall, but when I’m standing, he’s actually about the same height as me. I don’t know anything about him but it’s nice to share the otherwise lonely wait in the hallway with him. I feel like there’s something calm and even comforting about him, though I’m not really sure why.

Twice, I’ve switched up what side of the hall I stand on, just to see what he’ll do. He stood farther away during the first week but after I accidentally dropped my notes and he picked them up for me in the second week, he’s been standing a little closer, still always across from me. I remember noticing a narrow but long scar across his wrist when he handed me my notepad. His hands were rather rough when they brushed mine. He hardly met my eyes and was quick to move away again, like he was uncomfortable with being near me. The dark circles under his eyes were much more apparent up close.

I look up when I hear the doors of the atrium open and my heart skips a beat.

He’s buried in his phone just like he has been every day before. He makes his way down the hall, barely looking up even once, and comes to lean against the wall opposite me like he always does. He looks past his phone to nod at me, which I wasn’t expecting. I try to smile at him but it comes out like more of a grimace. He doesn’t seem offended and brushes his long hair from his face while he continues to read. His hair is a strange, dark blond color and it frames his sharp features in a way that makes it difficult for me to look away. He doesn’t seem to attract much attention from anyone else but I realize as I stare at him that I find him oddly handsome.

I guess that explains why I’ve randomly thought about him more than a few times this past week. That’s new for me.

Confused by my revelation, I look away before he can notice. I don’t even know his name. There’s a subtle smoky scent that I now recognize is coming from his bag. It’s sweet and herbal rather than stale and dusty. His clothes are the same as always - a button down, earth-toned shirt with dark grey slacks. He looks like he should be working in an office.

He doesn’t say much and he won’t speak unless spoken to. I’m not sure if that’s just how he is, or if it’s a manners thing, or if he actually despises small talk. He seems too buried in deep thought for it, from my observations. He’s always reading something, whether a book in his hand or something on his phone. I can tell they’re not text messages by the way he brings the phone up and stares at it while occasionally scrolling for the entire 20 minutes we usually stand in the hallway.

It’s surprising and a bit bewildering to admit that I like looking at him, but it’s true. That being said, I find just about everyone nice to look at in some way. It’s confusing sometimes. I’ve never felt anything more for anyone, though, despite being pursued more than once. It just hasn’t happened yet I guess. I’m in no rush, so it’s alright with me. Unintentional flings don’t seem enjoyable and I can’t imagine being so intimate and open with someone who doesn’t plan to be there in the future. Unlike Sun, I think to myself - she’s been with lots of people, and while some of them still spend time with her just as friends, others have left a bad taste in my mouth. She’s easily forgiven them. Or forgotten. Maybe both.

Someone else walks between us and when I glance up, I’m surprised when the man across the hall looks quickly away from me. I watch him for a moment, wondering how long he was staring. Maybe he wasn’t. Instead of looking back at me, he scratches at his chin and tucks his phone away, looking at something over my head. I find myself glancing upwards, assuming there’s a flyer I must have missed, but there’s nothing there. When I look back at him, he’s watching me again, but he startles.

“Sorry,” he mutters and looks away. He sticks his hands into his pockets and avoids my gaze. I’m not sure what to say. That it’s okay? That sounds weird, possibly even creepy. Should I ask him if something’s amiss? That might be weirder.

He’s looking at me again and this time, he doesn’t shy away from my own gaze. His light eyes trail down to my knee, where I realize he’s eyeing a small cut from where I had banged it on one of Sun’s short coffee tables last week. He looks like he wants to speak but he’s holding himself back.

“Ran into a table,” I say awkwardly, gesturing at the wound. It’s just a small red line now. The man looks back to my eyes and nods.

“Looks recent,” he says after a moment. His voice is mellow and lighter than I expected it to be. He sits in the first row, close to me in our class, yet I’ve rarely heard him speak; certainly not more than a simple yes or no. “Not from this week, though.”

I tilt my head at him, surprised he can tell. “How’d you know?”

Something passes across his face. He looks almost disappointed - or angry? “I’ve seen a lot of… cuts,” he mutters. He shakes his head but falls silent again. His expression is mellow as he stares at the tiles between us. Relaxed, he’s very nice to look at.

I feel myself start when he blinks up at me again. I’m wracking my mind for something to say. There’s a palpable tension in the air - either that, or I’m just incredibly nervous, for some reason.

“What happened to your wrist?” I blurt, glancing at the pale pink line that reaches over his skin. He pushes his hand further into his pocket and I fear I’ve crossed some invisible boundary with him.

“Nothing,” he responds quietly, voice hardly more than a whisper. His posture is stiff now and he’s avoiding my gaze, so I don’t press him.

“What do you do?” I ask, hoping a change in subject will make him feel more at ease.

“Metal shop,” he mutters simply. He’s still not looking at me. Deciding he’s done with the conversation, I just nod and go back to my phone. Sun’s sent me a picture of some plants she wants to buy for her patio.

“What about you?” he asks after a moment. I’m glad that he’s not giving up so soon. He still looks upset, or frustrated, but his posture’s relaxed a bit.

“Just… this right now. I’ve been around.” I pause, realizing how that sounds. “I mean - I’ve had a few odd jobs. Nothing serious. Coffee shops, library, things like that.”

At mention of the library, the man perks up. “What did you do there?”

“Just inventory, organizing shelves, scheduling shipments from one branch to another.” I watch his features change, almost dramatically, from brooding and gloomy to fascination.

“I assume that means you like to read?” he asks, standing up straighter. He takes his hands from his pockets and folds them. He crosses one leg over the other and suddenly appears much more comfortable than he ever has in the hallway. The newfound engagement on his face makes him much nicer to look at.

“I do,” I begin, but before he can ask me what most everyone does, I hurry on, “but mostly nonfiction. I had to focus on school for so long, I hardly had time to read for fun reading. I’m just now getting into it again.”

To my surprise, he nods as if he understands. Most people find what I’ve said to be ridiculous, or a poor excuse to avoid reading as a hobby.

“I’m like that sometimes, too,” he says. “I’m always reading something, though reading purely for enjoyment is something I only very rarely get to do. I’m….” He tilts his head to the side and sighs as though he’s about to tell me something ludicrous. “I’m in the midst of a collection of European cavalry history, right now.”

I nod, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t sound particularly appealing to me, but I can understand the draw for someone who knows more already than I do. I try to smile in place of empty words, and the man drops his gaze to the floor again.

I notice a tear in the belt loop of my shorts and start to pull at it. They’re one of my favorites, as they actually fit. I have exceptionally wide hips, so everything is either too tight in the thighs or too loose everywhere else. I grumble when the string gets caught on my ring. I wear a thin silver band around my ring finger on my left hand - I grew tired of people trying to hit me up. Free from the devious string, I glance down the hall, but first I steal a glance at my classmate.

I nearly startle when I notice his eyes are resting on me again. It looks like he meant to just glance at me but upon noticing my staring, now he is too, in an effort to hide his intention. Whatever it was.

My heart is pounding in my ears. I can feel my pulse in my chest.

“Jeans,” I say weakly, shrugging at the string in my hand. The young man nods once. I see him swallow and lower his phone from his face.

“I had a sister who wore a lot of them,” he says slowly, as though he’s considering each word before he speaks.

I notice how he chose his words - “had” a sister. I offer him a polite smile.

“I’ve never had a sister.”

“Brothers?” the man asks. I shake my head. He shrugs. “More resources for yourself.”

I open my mouth to respond, then realize that nothing natural comes to mind. What an odd thing to say.

“I suppose,” I finally say. He had started to look at his phone again but when I speak, he pauses.

“You suppose?”

I look away. There’s an edge to his tone that wasn’t there previously. He seems frustrated with my comment. His brows lower and the creases along his mouth deepen. Whatever attraction I did feel toward him fades slightly. The man straightens himself up and tucks his phone into his pocket.

“You don’t get anything to yourself with six siblings,” he elaborates. A subtle, tired smile flashes across his face at my expression of surprise. “That’s all I meant.”

Realizing that he noticed my disenchantment with his tone, I begin to feel guilty.

“It’s alright,” I manage, hoping he’ll forgive my reaction. I’ve always been sensitive to people’s behavior. I assume it has something to do with a handful of particular years during my childhood. My mother went through something that I was too young to understand, but I didn’t miss the things she did and said to me before she found herself again. I’m quick to assume the worst from people rather often. It’s something Sun likes to remind me about, if she isn’t criticizing my willingness to help people.

“Seven of you?” I ask, realizing the man is still watching me.

He nods. “We’re fosters… so, none of us are really related. Different ages, come from different places….” He looks suddenly uncomfortable and trails off, looking away. He sticks his hands back into his pockets, shoulders slumping. He looks like he wishes he hadn’t told me.

“That must be difficult. I can’t imagine that.”

“Hmm.” The young man looks back to me. “It can be.”

A few other classmates are starting to arrive. I’m disappointed that we don’t get the hall to ourselves anymore. The man pulls his phone back out and resumes his reading like I’m not there at all. I get the distinct impression that his foster family is something he doesn’t speak about much and probably didn’t mean to offer to me.

The rest of the wait goes by as usual. Relative silence in the hall is replaced by shuffling shoes, the rustling of paper, the clamoring of heavy books against tile, and chatter.

The door to the classroom opens, the last of the previous class files out, and the professor beckons us inside. I take my place in the front row, all the way over to the right, where I’ve made a corner against the far wall. The man follows and sits two seats away like he always does. The professor does all the talking, until discussion time. My quiet companion and I aren’t exactly fans of speaking to the class. The professor hasn’t called on us yet and she doesn’t this week, either.

Once dismissed, I gather my things and wait patiently for the young man to take his so I can leave. He’s shuffling papers in his bag and muttering to himself. He looks upset, so I pretend to read a message, but am glad to see one from Sun to respond to anyway. She’s got some exciting news about a new girlfriend, it seems. I begin to type a reply but the man groans and moves aside, pinning himself uncomfortably against the table.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Go ahead.” He waits for me to pass him and I notice how he recoils further as I do, as if being near another person disgusts him. His knuckles are white against the table and he’s turned his head away from me like he’s afraid I’ll look too closely. I try not to think too much about it, hoping it’s not personal to me. I pause just after him when I notice the way he paws frantically through his things.

“You okay?” I ask, lowering my phone. He looks up.

“Yes. I just… lost something.”

“Can I help?” I start to move closer but he quickly straightens up, picks up the bag and sighs heavily.

“No. Thank you.” Clearly frustrated, he strides past me toward the classroom door. I’m surprised when he holds it open and looks expectantly at me. I thank him and sweep out into the hall.

“You sure you’re okay?” I ask again when he trudges past me. He frowns.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t seem fine. He seems to be silently fuming. His brows are low and the creases in his face are deep. I remind myself that I don’t know him and it’s best to leave him be. Despite the way my feelings get carried away so easily, I have to remind myself that they shouldn’t choose my decisions for me. It’s very difficult, especially when I see someone upset or in need. Sun likes to tease me about it, telling me I’ll spread myself thin trying to provide more attention to everyone I’ll ever meet than I ever do for myself.

Some days, I think she’s right.

I leave my disgruntled classmate behind and go to stand outside, waiting for my mother to pull the car up. We share the vehicle, so she dropped me off today. She had work for a few hours while I was on campus and doesn’t always get off on time. I could be waiting here awhile.

I look up when someone comes to stand next to me. It’s my classmate, and he’s fidgeting like he’s distressed or like something is wrong. His hands are flexing like he’s in pain and he’s gritting his jaw. I don’t ask him this time if he’s okay. He’s staring straight ahead as if I’m not there.

“You getting picked up?” he asks suddenly. I nod and ask him the same. He barely hides a scoff. “Ah - no. They would never… no. I just....” He frowns and looks down. “Nevermind.”

“Wait.” I follow him as he steps back toward the building. He looks strangely on edge, like a frightened, injured animal. I feel myself hiding an eye roll at the way he stares at me like I’ve caused him further upset. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask if you’re alright - but... do you need anything?”

He looks offended until he realizes why. “I’m sorry,” he begins, turning around to face me again. His voice is thin and suddenly soft. There’s something gentle in the way he speaks to me now. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s not… socializing isn’t my strong suit.” He looks sheepishly away again, hand anxiously rubbing at the strap of his backpack. I can see how worn it is there. “You don’t… have a lighter, do you?”

That’s what the herbal smell was.

“Sorry, no.” I don’t have anything against smoking, but I’ve never done it myself. Sun does, sometimes. I’ve sat in her room in the cloudy, sweet haze while her company languished around, discussing things they weren’t ever quite relaxed enough to allow themselves the luxury of doing before. It’s a great time it seems, but I won’t try it with so many strangers around. I trust Sun with my life, but she has a lot of strangers in her room sometimes. Some come and go swiftly and others stay for weeks.

The man casts me a small smile. I hate how charming he looks like that.

“Darn. Hope you won’t think any less of me for it, anyways.”

“What makes you so sure I’m thinking about you at all?”

I’ve spoken before thinking. I feel my face flush bright red. He blinks at me for a moment, then looks away. Neither of us say anything for several breaths. The tension is stifling.

I close my eyes and shake my head at myself.

“That - that was… I didn’t mean it like that.”

The man laughs quietly and I see him reach up to scratch distractedly at the back of his neck, ruffling his hair. He looks shabby but in a confusingly enticing way.

“‘S alright,” he mumbles. I allow myself to look at him for a moment while he’s busy looking anywhere else but at me. His face is lightly shadowed and his sharp features cast sunlight across his forehead and the bridge of his hooked nose. His eyes are light, unlike my own. As I look, I notice pretty, almost yellow centers. I’ve heard of heterochromia but I can’t tell from here if that’s what’s there for sure.

He looks at me again and I notice out of my peripheral vision that my mother’s little blue car is turning into the driveway.

“My mom’s here,” I announce, unsure of how else to proceed. The tension is still there but it’s not as taut. The man looks up and backs away from me as though he shouldn’t be seen so close. He’s chewing his lip but as the car pulls up to a stop, he just looks away from me again.

“See you,” he says, and turns back into the building before I can even respond. I open the passenger door and climb in, not allowing myself to stall, and glad when my mother doesn’t ask any questions.

#modernAU #short story #ch1 #idk what im calling this yet

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inkwell1013 · 4 years

Text

Garden Woes - Good Omens

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley

Genre: Angst with a happy ending, Oneshot

Word count: 1335

Warnings: Arguing/Domestic dispute

Summary: Crowley always bullies his plants. Aziraphale babies them. They both think they are doing what’s best for their plants and its causing some conflict in their otherwise perfect relationship. One day, all the tension that's been building up explodes and an argument ensues.

Notes: I completely forgot about this fic. It’s been on ao3 for ages, but I forgot to post it here. I hope you all enjoy!

- - - - -

Armageddon had been stopped and all was well in the world. Crowley and Aziraphale had both been fired of course; that was to be expected after what they had done. Neither of them wanted to associate with either side now anyway.

Aziraphale’s awkward confession was accepted and requited and the two of them decided to move in together. There was just one small issue with that. They couldn’t decide who should move in with who.

Crowley’s studio apartment was too small for the two of them and quite frankly, Aziraphale didn’t really like Crowley’s neighbourhood. There was nothing wrong with it really, but Aziraphale didn’t enjoy being in areas full of negative energy and hatred. It made him feel unwell. Also, whenever he met someone going down a bad path, he felt a strong urge to show them the glory of God, which did not make him a popular person in those parts. Old habits tended to die hard after all.

They tried to move Crowley into the top floor of the bookshop but that didn’t work either. Aziraphale was far too protective of the books he sold and Crowley tended to pick them up with dirty hands or dog-ear the pages, infuriating Aziraphale to no end. There was also Crowley’s unfortunate habit of walking around the bookshop shirtless, completely oblivious to the shocked stares of the customers. None of Aziraphale’s customers seemed to like Crowley very much and Crowley was always picking fights with the customers who got angry and threatened his angel.

Neither option was working. When Crowley was flipping through a newspaper early in the morning, he found an advertisement for a cottage in the outskirts of London’s suburbs. It was perfect. It had enough space for the both of them, an empty home library for all of Aziraphale’s books and a huge garden for all of his many plants.

He brought it up with Aziraphale and was met with positive feedback. They met with a realtor and arranged the purchase of the house, buying it with their collective savings and moving in on a rainy spring afternoon. The house itself was dusty but otherwise clean. The garden however was full of weeds and overgrown grass. It was a bit of a fixer-upper but with time, it would be manageable.

The two fell into a comfortable rhythm of unpacking their things and fixing up the garden. Aziraphale was apprehensive at first, worried that he would mess it up, but got into it pretty quickly. The grass was mowed and weeded. They whipped up a few raised beds and sowed a few seeds. When they didn’t start growing straight away, Aziraphale got annoyed and Crowley had to remind him that these things took time.

Aziraphale wasn’t the best at waiting for things; whenever he wanted something to be ready it was, all it took was a small miracle. The only thing this didn’t work on was plants. He had tried it a few times before but they always withered away from his ethereal energy. The only thing to do was wait.

The waiting itself was excruciatingly boring, but when the plants first began to sprout, they were both really excited. A few weeks passed, and they were growing well. There was only one problem.

They just couldn’t agree how to treat the plants. Crowley insisted on what he called tough love, whereas Aziraphale tended to baby them. So they divided the plants between the two of them.

Crowley watered his plants daily and pruned the dead branches. If they grew, they grew. If they died… then… they died. He also yelled at them to make them grow better, which they did out of pure fear. Aziraphale thought this was just cruel and would go behind Crowley back to be kind to the plants, giving them compliments and encouragement.

Aziraphale on the other hand carefully watered his plants regularly and spread fertilizer on a weekly basis. He weeded the beds and gave the taller plants support beams so that they could grow straight. He was always chatting to them and complimenting their appearance, making them grow brilliantly, trying to please him. Often he found himself searching through his once forgotten gardening books for new tips and tricks or to help him diagnose some obscure disease or insect infestation

Their tactics couldn’t have been more different. That was where the arguments came from.

It was a quiet Sunday morning and Aziraphale was in the garden spraying insecticide on his cabbages and scattering some slug repellent when he notice black spots on some of the leaves of Crowley’s roses. He had heard of this before. Diplocarpon rosae. It was an invasive fungal infection that could decimate rose plants if nothing was done.

Crowley would probably just cut off the affected branches and burn them. Aziraphale planned to tell Crowley when he got home and went to go inside but he stopped himself. He had some fungicide in the shed and Crowley didn’t have to know. He fetched the fungicide and sprayed it on Crowley’s rose bush, before going inside.

Crowley got home from the city, where he worked. He didn’t tell Aziraphale much about it because he never really asked. It was dull but well paying. He took of his coat and went to check on the roses – his favourite plants. When inspecting them, he caught a waft of something strange. It was a sharp and chemical smell. He took a closer look and smelt it again.

He recognized it. Fungicide. Aziraphale had tampered with his plants. He was pissed and went to confront him about it. Crowley thundered into the kitchen. Aziraphale was sat at the kitchen table sipping his tea. Crowley slammed his hand down on the table, making Aziraphale jump.

“Crowley, Dear, I hadn’t realised that you were-“ said Aziraphale before Crowley cut him off.

“You tampered with my plants didn’t you? We agreed to keep our plants separate. You promised me that you wouldn’t mess with my plants!”

“It’s not my fault that you’re so mean to them,” mumbled Aziraphale.

“What did you say?” asked Crowley.

“It’s not my fault that you’re so mean to your plants!” yelled Aziraphale, standing up and raising an accusing finger. “Your so mean to them all the time and it’s not fair on them,”

“My methods work Aziraphale! Babying them will do them no good in the long run,” Crowley muttered.

“I don’t have to deal with this,” said Aziraphale, throwing up his hands in defeat. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” He stormed up the stairs, leaving Crowley alone. As soon as he saw Aziraphale leave, he regretted what he said. Sighing, he put his head in his hands.

Aziraphale was reading while sat cross-legged on the bed. He was furious at Crowley. Why was he being like that? He angrily turned a page. When the door cracked open, he didn’t look up. Crowley cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’m sorry. I guess everything got a bit much for me. It’s difficult for me to admit but I miss the way things were sometimes. When everything was familiar you know? Everything is so new now” he said sheepishly.

Aziraphale closed his book and set it on the table. “I think I know what you mean. It’s been months but I still try to call the head office and worry about getting caught with you. It makes no sense but in a strange way, I miss it. Having a purpose and a place to be, I suppose,” he said, laughing weakly. “I think we’re both a little in the wrong here, dear. Shall we shake hands and move onwards?”

“Yes,” said Crowley. “I’m sorry,”

“So am I,” smiled Aziraphale “But try to be nicer to your plants, okay?”

“I will,” agreed Crowley, with a yawn. “Are you about done reading for the night?”

“I think I am,” said Aziraphale, switching off his lamp.

“Goodnight dear,” he said as Crowley crawled into bed next to him.

“Goodnight Angel”

#fanfic #fanfiction #good omens #inkwell writes #good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #angst #hint of fluff #crowley and his plants #gardening

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ibijau · 4 years

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Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Xichen puts his new plan into action. Nie Huaisang is unsure how he feels about that.

As soon as he sits down, Nie Huaisang opens his fan and yawns from behind it. A double reminder for Lan Xichen that he doesn't want to be here, even with better tea, and also that some people know how to properly appreciate him, as proven by this perfect fan.

Lan Xichen doesn't take the bait. He serves tea without even a glance toward the fan even though it annoyed him so much last time. He sits, elegant as ever, and pushes a cup of perfect tea toward Nie Huaisang.

"Is there any chance we might play Go today?" Lan Xichen inquires in a resigned tone.

Honestly, Nie Huaisang doesn't know why the other boy still asks. Aside from that one time, they've never played again. His best guess is that it's just a habit at this point, and those Lans are nothing if not fond of their routine.

"Not in the mood," Nie Huaisang says with another yawn. He doesn't bother with excuses anymore, knowing Lan Xichen just accepts his refusal each time.

"Then I have another suggestion for a way to pass time," Lan Xichen announces, his usual empty smile a little more nervous than usual. "I'd like Nie gongzi to show me how he paints."

"I'm not interested in a lesson," Nie Huaisang retorts, fanning himself.

"I am. I want you to teach me."

That's such an unexpected declaration that Nie Huaisang gapes for a second and stills his hand, certain he must have misheard. When he sees the corner of Lan Xichen's mouth turn up in a more real smile, anger takes over surprise.

"Lan gongzi is mocking me," he accuses. "I thought that would have been against the rules of Gusu Lan."

The smile on his fiancé's face drops.

"Is it so hard to believe that I like the way you paint?"

Nie Huaisang shrugs. "Lan gongzi paints so perfectly, what does he have to learn from anyone, least of all from me? If you're so desperate for conversation, at least pick something believable."

Lan Xichen frowns.

"I'm not lying."

"Of course not. That's against the rules as well, isn't it?" Nie Huaisang taunts with a smirk.

"I'm not lying," Lan Xichen insists, rising up, "and I can prove it."

It's the first time he wastes some of their oh-so-precious time together by leaving the room. As he watches Lan Xichen hurry to the back of the house, toward the bedroom, Nie Huaisang idly wonders if it's something he could denounce to Lan Qiren. He eventually decides he doesn't want to deal with that old man. Besides, Lan Xichen does still have some blackmail material of his one, so it's best not to annoy him to much. He returns soon enough anyway, and drops a small stack of papers on the table.

"I like the way you paint," Lan Xichen says, his face red. "And since I cannot figure out how you do it, I wish for you to teach me."

Rather than to answer, Nie Huaisang gapes at the paintings presented to him, what appears to be a half dozen copies of the rabbits he gave Lan Wangji. He hesitantly grasps one and inspects it closely, a small frown forming on his brow.

"You made those?" he stutters, looking up at the other boy who's still standing. "But they look like… You paint so well, why would you try to copy me?"

"I like the way you paint," Lan Xichen repeats with unexpected intensity, his face turning even redder.

"But you told me I should stop painting, last year. I haven't forgotten that."

"It was… it was wrong of me," Lan Xichen sighs. "I worded things very badly that time, and I thought that it'd be selfish of me to encourage you to paint. If I hurt you, I'm sorry."

Nie Huaisang blinks dumbly, unsure what to make of that.

"How could it not have hurt me?" he huffs, holding his fan closer to his face to hide better. "Being told to give up the only thing I love, of course it hurt. But… you made these? Really? They're…" he hesitates, and lowers the fan to peek more easily. "Well, they're not bad, but they're not really good either. You're better than that normally."

At last Lan Xichen sits down on the other side of the table, grabbing one of the paintings to glare at it.

"I know they're bad, I just can't figure out how you make your lines flow like that. And I know it's not just that one painting, everything you do is like that. That fan you made, with the birds on a branch? I've tried to copy that as well."

"You guessed I painted that?" Nie Huaisang gasps.

"Of course. You have a very distinctive style, I'd recognise it anywhere."

It's Nie Huaisang’s turn to blush, and again he hides behind his fan. It's quite the shock to realise that all this time, Lan Xichen was maybe sincere about wanting to see his work. Since he lacks formal training, he's just assumed that of course his paintings would be seen as inferior and Lan Xichen was mocking him by faking interest.

Nie Huaisang glances toward the incense stick. Surprisingly, there's still a good chunk of it left.

"Get us paper and ink," he orders. "And… bring those birds as well, then."

For a second, Lan Xichen is so still that Nie Huaisang fears he offended him, or that he really was being mocked all along. Quickly though, a large smile breaks on Lan Xichen's face, bright and warm and so happy that it sends Nie Huaisang’s heart racing.

Lan Xichen looks like a different person when he's smiling for real.

While Lan Xichen prepares some ink for them, Nie Huaisang checks the other paintings he brought back, the one copied from his fan. These are better, which he points out.

"I think so too," Lan Xichen admits, "but it makes no sense. For those I had to work from memory. They don't even look that much like your fan."

Sadly, Nie Huaisang doesn't have that fan with him today. He brought the one from his mystery admirer, which for the first time makes him feel a pang of guilt. It is the prettiest fan he's ever owned, and he carries it most of the time these days because it's too beautiful not to show off, but that can't be pleasant for Lan Xichen.

Not that he cares what's pleasant to Lan Xichen, he has to remind himself. Having his paintings appreciated doesn't erase all the rest.

"Paint one now," Nie Huaisang orders.

"Wouldn't it be better if you painted one so I'd see how you do it?"

A few moments ago, Nie Huaisang would have bitten off his own tongue and choked on it rather than to give in to any of Lan Xichen’s requests, just to spite him. As it turns out though, it’s a little harder to hate his fiancé when he doesn’t have that stupid fake smile on, and at the moment Lan Xichen looks sincerely earnest and curious. It's not a bad look on him. Nie Huaisang barely needs to consider his options before he grabs a brush and starts painting the first thing that comes to mind. It is not his most refined work, not by far, but considering he’s working from memory and trying to keep this quick so the incense doesn’t run out, it’s not so bad either.

“A nightingale?” Lan Xichen remarks. “It looks very lively. Its wing, though…”

“It was broken when I bought her,” Nie Huaisang explains. “It still has an odd shape, but she can fly mostly fine.”

Realising just how much information he’s allowed himself to share, and knowing how pets are forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang braces himself for some negative remark. None comes.

“Nie gongzi has an eye for detail,” Lan Xichen says instead. “And a hand for them, too. You did this so quickly, and yet I’m sure anyone who has seen your bird would recognise it. It's amazing.”

"Careful, excessive flattery is against your rules," Nie Huaisang grumbles.

"I'm not…"

"Just try to copy it," Nie Huaisang orders, shoving the brush in his hand. "It's a simple one, you should find it easy."

Lan Xichen pinches his lips before putting on that empty smile again, for which Nie Huaisang is grateful, since it removes any possible confusion. When he looks like an inhuman jade statue, Lan Xichen is easy to hate.

Not that Nie Huaisang really has time to think about that. All his focus is on Lan Xichen's elegant hand as it holds the brush and tries to copy his little bird. As expected, Lan Xichen's movements are perfectly controlled, slow but well assured, his strokes light and flowing… But not enough. When he lifts his brush, his copy isn't bad, but it looks stilted and heavy, especially compared to the original.

Nie Huaisang glances at the incense stick. It's still burning, meaning he won't be saved from having to give an honest critique.

"Are you perhaps unused to drawing animals?" he cautiously asks.

"I usually do better than this," Lan Xichen replies dejectedly. "I'm only this bad when I try to copy you."

"Hm. Maybe if you went a little faster? Your movement are a lot slower than mine."

"I wouldn't control the brush as well," Lan Xichen protests. "I'd probably make mistakes."

"Probably. But that's half the fun, isn't it? Making mistakes and trying to see if they don't look nicer than the proper thing…"

Lan Xichen stares at Nie Huaisang as if he's gone mad. In turn, Nie Huaisang can't help tensing. Trial and error is how he's learned to paint, since he's never had the advantage of a teacher. That, and copying every piece of art he could get his hands on. But of course that's not the right way to do it, of course that's stupid, of course it's…

"You're the teacher," Lan Xichen says without a hint of mockery in his voice. "I'll try it like that."

Nie Huaisang’s face grows hot at being called teacher. Thankfully Lan Xichen doesn't appear to notice, too busy starting another copy of the nightingale. It's worse than the first. It's starting to be fun, actually.

"Try to keep your gestures lighter," Nie Huaisang advises, resting his chin onto his hand as he watches Lan Xichen be bad at something. "You're still trying to control it too much."

"I'm doing my best!"

"Your best should be better than that. Lighter, more relaxed. Yes, like th… ah, that line was almost good. You'll get there."

Lan Xichen pouts as he looks down at his disastrous attempts.

"I think I just can't do it the way you do, Nie gongzi," he sighs wistfully. "I'll have to content myself with admiring your work."

Hearing Lan Xichen admit that he thinks he's failing at something is more delicious than a sip of Emperor's Smile. That he would be bad in comparison to Nie Huaisang is better than a whole jar of wine. Ascending to godhood wouldn't be half as satisfying.

Riding that high, Nie Huaisang decides that just this once, he can afford to be kind to Lan Xichen.

Jumping to his feet, he walks around the table and comes to sit next to Lan Xichen who startles at the sudden proximity.

"What… what are you doing, Nie gongzi?"

"Showing you how I do it," Nie Huaisang explains, covering Lan Xichen’s hand with his own so he can guide him, since apparently just explaining isn’t enough.

The reaction to his touch is immediate and intense.

Lan Xichen flinches violently at the contact and drops his brush so suddenly that it rolls on the table, staining both his failed studies and the bottom of Nie Huaisang’s nightingale. They both freeze, equally surprised by what just happened. Lan Xichen recovers first.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, tearing a piece of paper from one of his sketches, vainly trying to blot this mess, as if that’s ever going to work. “I didn’t expect… You took me by surprise and…”

Nie Huaisang grinds his teeth and shrugs. “It’s fine. I should have known better.” He glances at the incense stick, and finds that at long last, it is all gone. It feels like it burned an eternity and a half today. “I’ll be going.”

Without a look for his fiancé, Nie Huaisang gets back up on his feet. As he wipes some imaginary dust from his knees, he briefly wonders if he should grab the painting of his nightingale before he leaves. In the end he decides against it. Lan Xichen ruined it, he can keep it and make more bad copies of it, if that pleases him.

“Nie Huaisang, wait!” Lan Xichen orders, although if it were coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like a plea. “I really didn’t mean to…”

“I’ll see you next week,” Nie Huaisang cuts him, stomping toward the door. “Good day, Lan gongzi.”

Ignoring Lan Xichen’s protests, he strides out of the house and heads for his cabin. He had planned to meet up with Jin Zixuan to tell him what a disaster this new meeting with his fiancé had been, but now it doesn’t feel like such a funny idea anymore.

It was stupid of him to lower his guard and forget for a moment that Lan Xichen is what he is. Just because the other boy said a few nice things about his paintings… Nie Huaisang feels pathetic that this was all it took to almost give his fiancé a second chance. In the end, he’s still nothing more than that idiot kid from last year, so desperate for the approval of someone who will never give it.

It was stupid to ever think things could get better.

Lan Xichen might appreciate his paintings, but he still clearly hates everything else about Nie Huaisang.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #Lan Xichen tries and messes up: the fic #but at least he's trying? yay him?#also I kinda want to do a jin zixuan pov next but lol fuck if I know what might happen there

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haberdashing · 4 years

Text

Labyrinth

Statement of Avery Horner regarding her experiences with an unusual patch of forest in a local park.

on AO3

Statement of Avery Horner regarding her experiences with an unusual patch of forest within a local park. Original statement given February 6th, 2020. Recording by Artemis Lee, archival assistant for the Usher Foundation.

Statement begins.

Okay, before I get into what happened to me specifically, I should probably give you guys some background. I mean, you’ll probably dig up a lot of the same information eventually--I assume, anyway, I don’t really know a ton about how all this works--but I might as well save you the trouble, right?

So, this is about a park right by my house called Old Pines Park. You’ve got my address from the intake forms, shouldn’t be hard to find from there, it’s literally right down the street from me.

The first weird thing about the place is that there are no pine trees in Old Pines Park. As far as I know, there never have been. There aren’t too many pine trees in the surrounding area, either; just not the right climate for them, I think? Could be named after someone named Pines, I suppose, but the time I tried looking into it I didn’t find much, certainly not detailed information about some famous person from my boring suburban hometown with that surname. That’s just... what the park’s called, for whatever reason.

Also, despite the park being, like I said, right down the block from where I live, I don’t have much in the way of childhood memories associated with the place. There’s a fair few parks in the area, though, so maybe it’s just that all the other parks had bigger playgrounds or nicer scenery or more sports equipment or whatever. It’s not the biggest park around, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some people didn’t even know it was tucked away back there, just an old playground and a grassy field with a small, dirty pond in it.

And the woods.

That’s the main thing I want to talk about--the woods there. Calling it “the woods” is probably- no, definitely overstating things, but I’m not sure what else to call it. It’s on the edge of the field, just a somewhat-thin strip of land where the trees are much denser than elsewhere, to where you can’t see through to the other side.

When I was growing up, my mom always told me not to go in the woods there. She claimed they’d found a woman’s body there once, though I never really believed her. I looked it up not too long ago, though, and sure enough, there’s a news article from when I was a kid about a body being found in Old Pines Park. Didn’t say it was in the woods, but I believe it. Didn’t say what had happened to the body, either, or whose body it was. Just a brief blurb, “jogger finds body,” end of story, apparently.

Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anyone jogging in Old Pines Park, especially not in the woods--the landscape’s not exactly the most conducive to exercise--but the news article definitely said it was a jogger who’d found the body. Why’s it always seem to be joggers who find dead bodies like that?

Anyway.

I actually listened to my mom about not going in the woods for longer than you’d probably expect. I never had much of a rebellious teenager phase, and what little rebellion I did attempt didn’t involve the park just down the road. I think I went in the woods once with a friend when I was a kid, but I barely remember any of it, and I don’t think we went far. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten back from college that I decided to see what the woods had in store. (Yes, I live in the same house after college graduation that I did throughout my whole childhood. Not proud of it, but it is what it is, I guess.) I didn’t tell my mom what I was doing, didn’t tell anyone, just went out exploring by myself.

There’s a clear entrance to the woods on the end of the park closest to my house, an opening where the trees part and you can walk through without any difficulty. The ground dips down a bit where the rest of the park ends and the woods begin, and depending how much it’s rained sometimes there’s a bit of water there, but it’s not hard to get past.

I didn’t get very far the first time, though. Just a few feet from this entrance and the sometimes-stream beside it, there’s a chain link fence that blocks off part of the way--and more importantly, there’s a hole in that chain link fence that’s plenty big for a person to get through. On the other side of these strange, mysterious woods is... a strip mall. There’s a few fast food restaurants, a furniture store, a bunch of storefronts for sale. Nothing that exciting, really, except...

Okay, don’t laugh, but I’m really into Pokemon Go, even now. And that strip mall has a Pokestop in it--one of the places you go to get more items in the game. Dunno why, since there’s nothing that neat there, but it does. So for months I’d occasionally go through the woods just far enough to get through that hole in the fence, spin the Pokestop in the strip mall, and head back. I’m not exactly the most adventurous person out there, so even that was a bit of a thrill to me, especially knowing that it’d been forbidden back in my childhood.

At some point I noticed that the hole in the fence that let me cut through to the strip mall had changed--before it was just like a bit of fence had been torn out entirely, but now a metal bar around shoulder height was still in place, so I had to duck down when making my way through. Still plenty of space to get through, though, so it didn’t really bother me; it was just a bit odd, especially since I hadn’t seen any in-between stages where the fence got built up before being torn down again.

One day I was out walking my dog, Biscuit, and after I popped through the fence and back I decided to go further into the woods, see what I could find.

First off, I didn’t notice it so much when I was just ducking in and out, but while the area’s objectively pretty small, when you’re in the woods of Old Pines Park, it really feels like... well, like you’re in the middle of the woods. The foliage is dense, and there’s not too much to remind you of civilization besides that fence on the side and the occasional garbage wrapper.

Biscuit and I followed the fence along for a bit--I figured it’d be easy enough to find our way back with that as a landmark--and we found a decent-sized stream that must lead into the park’s pond, but where it comes from I’ve got no idea, since everything’s built up around here and there’s not much in the way of rivers. I vaguely remembered seeing the stream before, maybe that one time I went with a friend, but it was still an interesting sight. It didn’t look like some pristine bit of nature, though--the water was discolored, and the wrappers and similar debris I’d noticed before seemed to be clustered around the stream.

We kept going, and before too long I found a second hole in the chain link fence. This I definitely didn’t remember from my one foray into the woods in childhood. Looking through it, I saw a white building that looked pretty big, and kind of industrial? It was pretty nondescript, and I’ve forgotten most of the details of it by now, I just know it was big and white and I had no clue what it was or what could be inside, even though basic geography suggests it must only be a few blocks from my house at most. I thought about going through, but it looked like the sort of building where you could get in trouble for being on the premises without permission, and I wasn’t looking to get arrested for trespassing, so I just kept going.

I think this was about the time I checked my phone--I still had Pokemon Go open, I usually do whenever I leave the house, I’ve joked with my mom before about how convenient it is that I always have a GPS in my hand--and noticed that it wasn’t getting a signal. Specifically, the game still showed, but there were no features on the map, no Pokemon, nothing to indicate where I was. It didn’t say that it was having trouble with the GPS, though, it just... didn’t load the map at all.

The woods got thicker and denser as I moved on, and eventually there wasn’t much of a path left to follow alongside the fence as there had been. The only thing close to a path, inasmuch as I wouldn’t be attacked by tree branches if I followed it, led away from the fence and deeper into the woods. I figured what the hell, and I followed the sort-of-path further in, even though it took me away from the fence, from the one major landmark this place had.

I went kind of slow at first, but Biscuit kept pulling me along. She was loving it. Maybe she’d just gotten sick of taking the same path every walk and was glad for the chance to explore, smell new things, wander a bit. A few times I had to pull her back and remind her that while she could get through that tiny gap in the trees, I couldn’t, so we’d have to find another way around. (Biscuit’s a pretty small dog, so she’s good at fitting through narrow spaces like that.)

As I kept walking, the path, such as it was, got less and less clear, and I stopped seeing any garbage laying around, any signs that this place had been touched by human hands before. I had to do a fair bit of ducking and weaving to keep going without getting scratched up too badly, but Biscuit was so excited about the whole thing that I felt it was worth it.

Then the path went from hard to find to just straight up not there, and I went to turn around, and... I couldn’t see the fence behind me. I could swear we hadn’t gone that far--I didn’t think the woods were even spread out enough that we could go that far--but apparently we’d managed to leave the fence behind.

I did my best to backtrack, but it was slow going, especially since the “path” had never been an actual path with clear markings, just the way that was most devoid of trees that would slap me in the face. Also probably doesn’t help that I have a horrible sense of direction--that’s one reason I like having a GPS in my hand at all times, but the map on it still wasn’t working. Biscuit didn’t seem to get what I was trying to do but then, hey, that’s dogs for you, am I right?

I felt like I kept going in circles, like I wasn’t getting anywhere, and I still couldn’t see the fence, and I was succeeding less and less in my “don’t get scratched by stray tree branches” goal, and I had no idea where the entrance I’d gone through was from here, or the garbage-laden stream, or any other landmark I could use for guidance...

What I ended up doing was just letting Biscuit lead the way. I figure dogs have a good sense of smell, maybe their sense of direction is good too. She always seems to know which way to turn on our usual walks, too, so maybe this would be the same? At the very least, it couldn’t hurt... well, it could, but so could continuing to wander around aimlessly on my own devices. It sounds ridiculous, I imagine, but... I trust this dog, and I know she trusts me too, and I figured if I couldn’t get us back home, maybe she could.

And it worked. Not too long after I just did my best to give in to Biscuit’s pulling and let her be the guide, she led me in one direction, and sure enough, the fence reappeared, and I could see one of the holes in it in the distance.

You’d better believe we stayed right up against that fence for the rest of our trip in the woods, up until we stumbled back out of the entrance.

My phone buzzed right as we left the woods, and the map was back, everything displaying just fine. But as I looked at my phone more closely, I noticed the time on it was only three minutes after I’d decided to go further into the woods than I normally did. I don’t know how long I spent in there, but I am damn sure it was longer than three minutes.

Since then, I’ve gone back to only popping through to reach the strip mall, and even that I’m not doing as much as I used to... and last time I went to do that, the hole in the fence was different, with some metal wiring still in place near the foot of the hole as well as that metal bar. More importantly, though, there was a No Trespassing sign up. I don’t know how many other people know about the hole in the fence there, how many other locals have figured out that little trick, but I couldn’t help but think that sign was put there specifically for me. Still don’t feel like getting arrested for trespassing, so I just turned around and left, Pokestop be damned.

The sign only forbids crossing the fence into the strip mall, though. It doesn’t forbid walking deeper into the woods again.

And part of me wants to go back, to go even further into the woods. I want to see if I can find my way out the other end all by myself. There must be a way, right? I mean, that stretch of land only goes on for so long, it’s not that big of a park. I’ve been resisting the urge for a while now, but I keep thinking about it. I feel like it’s not a matter of if I’ll go back in the woods, it’s when.

I wouldn’t bring Biscuit along, though. Partly because I want to see how much I could do without her help and without her pulling me through gaps I can’t pass through, but partly because... if anything happens to me when I’m in there, if I end up like that woman whose body got found in there all those years ago, I want to make sure Biscuit doesn’t get in trouble with me.

It’s one thing to take risks like that for yourself, but I wouldn’t do that to someone I love. That’s going a step too far for me.

Statement ends.

#tma #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ Planting Orchids (Seiichi Yukimura)

Genre: Friendship, Fluff ☁

Word Count: 1,666 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Yukimura ☁

World: Prince of Tennis ☁

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A smile made its way to your lips as you looked down at the garden that lay in front of you. School had ended and the only students that remained were people belonging to after school clubs. You were one of them, belonging to the gardening club. Gardening has always been a passion of mine ever since you were a child. Flowers are just so beautiful and delicate.

“They’re beautiful,” a soft voice flowed over your shoulder.

Looking up, you locked eyes with your classmate Seiichi Yukimura. You looked back down, your fingers lightly brushing against the petals of a hydrangea. “Thank you, I worked hard to get them to grow.”

He smiled, kneeling down next to you. “This is your garden, then?”

You nodded. “It is. Gardening always makes me happy and keeps me feeling calm.”

“I can understand that.” he gazed at the hydrangea between your fingers with a somewhat longing expression.

“You like gardening, Yukimura-san?” you questioned, gazing over at the blue-haired boy.

“I love it.”

“Why don’t you join the gardening club?”

He shook his head with a sad expression. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any free time to dedicate to gardening between the tennis club and school.”

“Oh, I see.”

You had forgotten about Yukimura being the captain of the tennis team. Being on the team itself is time-consuming, but being the captain probably took up most every ounce of free time he had. Maybe that’s why Sanada was so uptight.

“Y/N-chan?”

“Hmm?”

He chuckled, poking your forehead. “You zoned out on me.”

“O-Oh! Sorry, Yukimura-san.” you blushed, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly.

“Well, I should get back to practice so I can make sure no one is slacking off. It was nice talking to you, Y/N-chan.”

“Bye, Yukimura-san.”

He sent you one last smile before heading for the door.

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You smiled brightly as you carried plant seeds in your pocket, heading for the school. You were so excited to get them planted that you headed for the school as soon as the sun started to peek over the horizon. A couple honor students and teachers were there but, other than that, the school was pretty much empty.

After grabbing the equipment you’d need from the shed, you headed up to the roof, choosing a bare spot in the square garden pot, pulling the seed packet out of your pocket and setting them down beside you. Now, to get to work! You dug the first small hole, dropping a couple seeds into it before packing the dirt on top of it.

“What are you planting?”

You jumped at the voice, not having heard the roof door creaking open. Yukimura was standing behind you.

“Carnations, chrysanthemums, iris’ and lisianthus.”

He smiled, kneeling down beside you. “Do you mind if I help?”

“I don’t mind at all!”

For the next hour and a half, you and Yukimura planted the seeds and shared pleasant conversation. The main topic was about flowers, but your conversation did branch out and Yukimura told you about the tennis team members.

“I like spending time with you, Y/N-chan.” He smiled as you both walked down the stairs.

“Me too, Yukimura-san.” you smiled back.

“Please, call me Seiichi.”

“Seiichi-san,” you tested his name on your tongue and his smiled brightened.

He waved before taking off towards the tennis courts for morning practice. You were thankful that you were getting to know Yukimura better and you hoped that you could become good friends.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You were thinking about your garden when you ran into someone, making both of you fall to the ground. Your face flushed in embarrassment as your eyes met Yukimura’s.

“I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright. Are you hurt?” he stood up, holding his hand out for you to take.

“No,” you slipped your hand into his and he easily lifted you to your feet.

“You really should stop zoning out, Y/N. It’s dangerous.” he smiled, running his finger over your cheek, still warm.

“I know, I’m really sorry, Seiichi-san!”

He chuckled. “I’m going to the flower shop to pick up some flowers for my mother. Would you like to come with me?”

Your eyes immediately started to sparkle. “Absolutely!”

He gently grabbed your hand and the two of you were off.

Fumino’s Flowers was the best flower shop in Kanagawa. Their flowers were bright and beautiful, the owners knowledgeable about their product. It was obvious that the flowers were well taken care of and showered with love.

“You seem happy,” he commented, looking through the different flower varieties for the perfect bouquet for his mother.

“I’m not sure what it is, but there’s something special about flowers that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” you told him, smiling brightly at the cosmos.

“They have that amazing quality.” he murmured, softly. “You have that quality, too.”

“Eh?” You blinked, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

“When I’m with you, you always make me feel calm. I feel lighter, like the stress of life isn’t weighing so heavily on me anymore.”

“I never would have guessed that I made someone feel so at ease,” you murmured, thoughtfully before turning to him with a bright smile. “I’m glad I can help, Seiichi-san!”

Your smile was as bright as the sun, lighting up his dark world. His heart skipped a beat and he realized just how important you had become to him.

After buying a bouquet for his mother, the two of you left the shop.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” he said softly, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning and walking away.

You blinked, resting your hand over your cheek.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Three months have passed. In that time, you and Yukimura had become considerably closer. Every morning, he would come to school early and help you tend to the garden before heading over to tennis practice. After school, you’d both hang out at either your house or his. Sometimes you’d visit flower shops, other times you’d just go to the cafe for some tea.

“Hello, Y/N,” Yukimura smiled as he approached you, taking a seat on the pavement beside you.

As usual, you were on the roof in front of the square planter, tending to your plants. “Hello, Seiichi-kun.” you greeted him with a smile, wiping your hands together to get the dirt off.

“I say it’s time to plant some new flowers.” He was planning something, you realize. That smirk of his said it all.

“What did you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise” he closed one eye and held his finger over his mouth. “Meet me here after school, alright?”

You nodded, watching him walk away. To say you were curious was a huge understatement. You couldn’t wait for school to end to find out what he had in store for you.

When school finally ended, you found yourself running up to the roof, feeling excited. Yukimura was already there, kneeling down by the planter.

“Seiichi-kun~”

He smiled in greeting before holding his hand out, showing five seeds resting against his palm. “Here. They’re rose seeds.”

“Oh!” you grabbed them from his hand excitedly. “Can we plant them, now?”

He chuckled, “Of course.”

Even after getting the rose seeds planted, it felt as if there was still something he was hiding. One thing you knew about Seiichi Yukimura was that he was a hard boy to figure out.

“Let’s get some tea,” he suggested after you finished cleaning up.

“Sounds good to me~”

The walk to the cafe was filled with a comfortable silence. You were trying to figure out what he was hiding, but you were coming up blank. There just wasn’t enough evidence to come to a conclusion.

“Something on your mind?”

“Not really. I was just thinking about the roses. I can’t wait for them to bloom!”

“Me too. The garden will look so much nicer with beautiful flowers like roses there.”

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The rose bushes had finally bloomed and the garden’s beauty had increased drastically. It seemed to sparkle with life now as if the other flowers were happy to have them there.

When school ended, you headed up to the roof to check on your beauties before heading home for the weekend. You were surprised, however, to find a single orchid blooming beside the roses. Blinking in confusion, you reached out a hand, fingers gently brushing their petals. Where had they come from?

Arms wrapped gently around your shoulder and you recognized the flowery cologne that Yukimura always wore.

“Did you plant these, Seiichi-kun?” you questioned, curiously.

He nodded, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Yes, I did. Do you like them?”

“I love them! They compliment the roses so beautifully,” you smiled, turning around and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Tell me, do you know what the rose and orchid stand for?”

You hummed thoughtfully, putting your index finger against your chin as you thought. “Well, the rose represents love and passion while the orchid represents love, beauty and strength. But, what does that have to do with anything?”

He chuckled, firmly grasping your shoulders. “You can be so oblivious, Y/N. I planted them for those very reasons.”

“What are you saying…?”

“I’ve fallen in love you, Y/N. My passion is making you smile. You are my strength and you are beautiful.”

It finally clicked in your head and your cheeks brightened, highlighted by the evening sun.

He smiled, moving his right hand up to cup your cheek.

“I….” you didn’t know what to say. Yukimura had become such an important part of your life. Had you fallen in love with him without even realizing it?

“It’s alright,” he murmured, softly, pulling you into a soft hug. “You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready, or if you don’t feel the same. Don’t force yourself, Y/N.”

You shook your head, hugging his waist tightly. “I love you, too, Seiichi!”

Your love for gardening had risen and you cherished your garden with all of your heart.

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alecmagnuslwb · 5 years

Text

New Year’s Eve: Chapter Two

Read it all on AO3 or previous ch. here

One magical night, five intertwining love stories, all culminating at midnight with just maybe some confessions and kisses as the clock strikes.

This chapter: It’s all about the ladies. After filling in for her forlorn roommate in a New Year’s Eve ball drop contest, Helen might just find her dream girl in party planner, Aline, on top of getting to put her political science geek out front and center when she meets the mayor.

***

2 P.M., New Year’s Eve

Aline chuckles as she exits the hotel, pressing a kiss to Catarina’s cheek and urging her to call if their boys get too out of hand.

She’s leaving Alec and Magnus to sort it out for themselves from here if possible. She loves Alec and wants to see him happy. She even played the doting best friend for nine months hating Magnus Bane on his behalf, but she also watched the pain in his eyes and light in his smile dull out. She doesn’t know Magnus’ side, but she knows the way Magnus used to look at Alec was real, something just went fuzzy in the end.

So, today she’d reached out to Magnus for the first time in months after receiving word the record company had to switch out headliners. She’s done her part, she helped bridge the gap now the balls in their court.

She has other things to attend to, most importantly the ball drop ceremony in Times Square. Usually the city handles everything, but after a nationwide search for one person to press the button alongside the mayor and the Jonas Brother’s they’d reached out to an outside event planner to prep the individual and throw a small gathering for them beforehand.

The hotel where the Edom records party is being held is thankfully only a few blocks away from the offsite building where they’re holding the party and meet and greet. A private escort will get them where they need to be closer to midnight. She enjoys the walk the cold December air more of a wake up to her system than any cup of coffee could be.

She arrives at the building fairly quickly, the city just it’s normal amount of busy still so early in the day, heading upstairs flashing the badge she’d gotten sorted out days ago that grants her access to all things here and in Times Square.

“Ms. Penhallow,” the Mayor’s assistant greets her when she reaches the proper floor with a smile extending her hand to shake.

“Ms. Herondale, lovely to see you again,” she squeezes her hand letting go. “I assume everything is in order.”

Ms. Herondale shakes her head, gesturing for the Aline to follow her. “Everything arrived and was set up as you ordered yesterday.”

They turn a few corners entering a room with a large floor to ceiling set of windows that give a gorgeous view of the city and a particularly good look at the ball suspended high in the sky. It’s always looked so odd during the day. More like a weird pimple on the side of Times Square than the glowing globe of spectacle and wonder it is after the sun goes down.

She surveys the room; the decorations and settings aren’t the prettiest things she’s ever been in charge of. While the Edom Records party is a stunning ball room of twinkling lights, intricate floral displays and high paid entertainment, this is more like a classed-up Beauty and the Beast themed party with varying tones of gold decorations.

Her budget for this had been fairly small, the city allotting only a sprinkling of money more concerned that Aline show the contest winner a good time than anything else. It’s a low-paying gig that Aline would usually never accept, but the exposure of getting her name and ability into the Mayor’s ear could lead to many well off rich, white dudes being very willing to pay her lots of money to plan exurbanite parties for them.

She loves the concept of taking their money and using it to branch off from her mother’s business and start up her own, so she’s taking this job more seriously than anything.

***

Helen can’t believe she agreed to this. That she let Rebecca swindle her into going in her place all with the promise of getting to talk politics with the New York City Mayor and dishwashing for a month. She wishes she had Clary’s strong will and actual plans and had turned down the sad eyes and no doubt eventual empty promises of their roommate.

She’s late which is already a valid reason why she shouldn’t be doing this. Rebecca said she was told to be here by three, it’s nearly four already because Rebecca wasted her time moaning about having to go before actually working on convincing her to go and then by law Helen had to stop and pet the large golden retriever that she had gotten tangled up in the leash of when she exited the subway. It’s a sign from above that she should have just stayed at home.

The party itself will likely be boring, she’ll probably only talk to the mayor for barely a minute and then be bored to death. She’ll get some free food if nothing else. The actual ball drop part is a little worrisome, since crowds aren’t Helen’s favorite thing, but she assumes there’ll be alcohol at this pre-party and a few glasses of wine tend to allow her to lose the edge and fall into whatever space she’s in without a care.

She looks down at her phone double checking the address while looking up at the building before her. She’s here and officially just over an hour late. She works her way inside and up to where a receptionist guides her to the event.

She enters the room and first notices how oddly classy it looks. She feels like she’s walking into a way fancier party than Rebecca told her it would be and suddenly she wishes she hadn’t just left in what she’d been wearing around the apartment.

She wishes she was dressed nicer even more so when her eyes scan the room and spot without a doubt the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen. The beauty is looking down at her phone, a tight black dress with a well-cut silver edged navy-blue blazer over top. Helen on the other hand is wearing a fake fur line leather jacket, possibly her oldest pair of skinny jeans and a Hayley Kiyoko t-shirt.

The woman’s long dark hair falls off to one side and Helen wants to run her fingers through it. She’s staring, she’s aware she’s staring and of course that’s the moment she’s caught. The woman looks up and Helen knows for a fact she’s absolutely screwed once a smile lights up her pretty face.

“I’m the contest winner,” Helen blurts out realizing she should probably say something. The woman’s smile brightens, and suddenly Helen forgets all her worries and concerns about taking Rebecca’s place. The smile is professional but with maybe just maybe an edge of something else when she pockets her phone and starts walking towards her.

***

Aline spots the blonde entering the room and smiles, not out of professional courtesy but out of sudden, sharp interest. This woman is breathtaking with sharp features and soft eyes. Aline pockets her phone and walks towards her as she announces herself as the contest winner.

“You don’t look like the photo they sent me,” Aline says looking at the beautiful blonde in front of her. It’s not really the first thing she intended to say, she was just completely thrown by how beautiful this woman is. The blonde squints her eye and Aline panics worrying she might have just offended this goddess. “Not that that’s a bad thing, at all, you’re gorgeous, you just looked different in your photo.”

The blonde smiles shyly before speaking, “That’s because I’m not actually Rebecca Lewis, she’s my roommate, she got dumped recently and decided she hates New Year’s Eve so she bribed me to come in her place. She said she emailed you about it, I’m Helen Blackthorn.”

Aline reaches out a hand and introduces herself in kind. Helen’s hand is soft, the many skinny silver rings on different parts of her fingers are a cool touch against her skin. The handshake lasts a little longer than a handshake should, Aline smiling as she lets go.

She pulls her phone from her pocket opening her mailbox to find a ridiculous amount of unread emails. Down the line at the start of the day sits one from Rebecca Lewis stating she’d be sending a roommate in her place.

“Huh, there it is, it’s pretty busy day of the year for me it must have slipped past,” Aline shrugs pocketing her phone once again and looking back up at Helen with a beaming smile.

“That’s okay,” Helen says with a smile. “Sorry I’m late by the way.”

Aline shakes her head. “No worries, the actual party doesn’t start for about another 30 minutes I just wanted you here early to prep you for anything in case there were nerves about meeting Nick Jonas.”

Helen just snorts in response.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ll have any sort of reaction to Nick Jonas,” she laughs.

Aline raises an eyebrow then gives Helen a subtle once over noticing her t-shirt, which gives her some unprofessional hopes that this girl likes girls.

“Too much of a lesbian Jesus fan to care?” she asks with a smirk.

Helen looks down at her shirt as if she’d forgotten what she was wearing and then lifts her eyes back up to Aline’s with a blush. A blush that is very promising. Aline should probably be having a moral crisis about wanting to flirt with this woman, but she’s not technically her client so it seems like a safe area to just go for it.

“Yeah, only second to my great bi leader Halsey,” Helen says and Aline tries to hold back her glee at the sexuality confirmation. “I also will definitely be more excited about meeting the mayor than anyone with the last name Jonas.”

Aline’s about to ask for further explanation when the Mayor’s assistant re-enters the room. From there it’s a flurry of prep and minor introductions. The mayor will be there in an hour or so and Helen seems mostly ready, if not a bit nervous to actually meet the mayor. It’s adorable and Aline is so glad she’s decided not to have a professional moral crisis about her attraction.

***

Helen listens to everything the mayor’s assistant and Aline tell her before the party starts. Trying desperately not to stare every time Aline makes any sort of movement. It all goes by in a rush after that. The party actually starts, she eats some fancy cheeses and snags a glass of wine happily.

Aline introduces her around once things start getting in full swing. Helen geeks out at every member of the city council she gets to encounter and even starts in on a rousing debate about city by-laws with a few of them that keeps her more than engaged for nearly an hour.

She meets the mayor and is literally stunned. She knows that she probably looks crazy like a super fan meeting their idol. She talks and talks and asks questions that he seems to happily welcome even though some of them are definitely a little critical of his policies. Their conversation is interrupted when the Jonas Brothers arrive and Aline pulls her away to do a quick meet and greet before they have to leave and make their way over to get stage ready.

They’re all three incredibly nice, but Helen could care less and she’s not a very good actor so they likely notice. She goes through the motions gets a picture with them and is more than happy when a few of the city council members ask for selfies as well allowing her to work her way back over to the mayor.

Even through her glee with discussing policy and politics with the mayor she finds her eyes always straying to Aline. She’s 99% sure Aline isn’t straight based on the once over she gave Helen that she just barely caught and the fact that she called Hayley Kiyoko lesbian Jesus. That alone is queer girl confirmation 101, it makes Helen’s little bi heart pitter patter happily. Aline’s flitting about the room, shaking hands and smiling bright, it’s clear she’s in a full professional mode handing out business cards and charming the pants off of everyone in the room.

Helen would quite literally like her to charm the pants off of her. It’s a wholly inappropriate thought that crosses her mind when she blatantly watches Aline bend over after dropping a napkin. She’s pretty sure Joe Jonas catches her doing so judging from his knowing smile. She may not have been too eager about meeting them, but damn does she respect at least one of them after he lets that slide.

It’s getting late, the sun fully set when the mayor excuses himself to take a phone call. Helen looks around, she’s been having a great time shockingly, but crowds aren’t her favorite thing and she suddenly needs a breather so she slips out in the hall finding a stairwell to give herself a moment.

***

Everything settles and Helen seems comfortable surrounded by local political leaders and less than enthused about the Jonas Brothers. They don’t seem to mind though which Aline respects; she respects even more that they all three requested her business card. She’d expected to schmooze some political minds tonight, three mainstream pop celebrities however could send her career skyrocketing.

She moves about the room in full work mode for a few hours, every now and then looking over at Helen and delighting in the smile on her face when she debates with city planners and mayoral assistants.

It’s hours later when she looks around and spots Helen slipping out of the room. Aline excuses herself from the conversation she’s in the middle of, sweeping past a table and grabbing two glasses of wine to trail after her.

She spots her in the little stairwell off to the side and softly smiles.

“I can’t believe you were more excited about the Mayor than the Jonas Brothers,” Aline teases when she steps up on the stairs behind her. “That’s so weird.”

“I’m a poly-sci grad student of course I’m more excited about the Mayor than the Jonas Brothers,” Helen defends with a smile as she looks over her shoulder. Aline makes an agreeing noise. That tracks with her glee over state versus national level laws when the subject had been lightly broached with the mayor before Aline had politely exited to the conversation to move about the room. The enthusiasm is cute.

“Mind if I sit?” she asks holding out the two glasses. Helen nods patting the steps beside her.

She settles on the step handing a glass over to Helen that she takes with a smile. They sit in comfortable silence for a bit just enjoying each other’s company. Behind her she can hear the rustle of the crowded room; she checks her watch knowing the mayor and everyone will make their leave soon enough.

It won’t be long after that that they make their way to Times Square, but Aline intends to take full advantage of the few scant moments of alone time they’ll have then and that they have now.

***

They sit for a bit just sipping their wine, both seemingly needing a break for a few quiet seconds. Helen chooses to break the silence after a while inquiring something that’s marveled her about the flirty Aline she first met and the absolute pro she’s watched flit around the party the last few hours.

“You don’t seem like a party planner until you go into full mode,” Helen says breaking the quiet. “No offence.”

Aline snorts and it’s far cuter than any snort has the right to be.

“None taken. It’s a family business,” she explains. “I wasn’t as into at first and definitely don’t put on the show like my mom does all the time, but then it turned out I had an eye for it and sort of fell in love.”

Helen hums taking a sip of her of her wine.

“You mentioned Edom Records earlier, why are you here if you’re also in charge of that event?” Helen enquires. There’s no way showing a random contest winner around and throwing her a party is anywhere near the same level of important as one of the hottest New Year’s Eve parties in the city.

“It practically runs itself once you have good talent in the kitchen and on the stage,” Aline shrugs. “Truthfully I’m only here because I fought for us to take on this job. Or at least that’s how it started; the company has turned out pretty nice.” Aline smiles and bumps her shoulder with an edge of flirtation.

“Why this party?” Helen says blushing and trying to ignore the second part.

“The mayor, I get him as an account for us on future events, then I get his friends and that means a raise or two for me which means more money for my savings to break off and start my own business,” Aline explains. “The Jonas Brothers were an unexpected bonus if they weren’t just being polite in taking my card.”

“Wow, so you want to break off from the family business then?” Aline seems so in her element in there she thinks there’s no doubt she could excel on her own.

Aline scoffs, “Like you wouldn’t believe. My mom, she’s great, but she wants everything done her way and her way can be very elite. I want to be able to do events that aren’t just for dudes with lined wallets. I want to be able to hire on help that might not find a job like this anywhere else and I want to be able to reach out to charity events that need a boost, things like that. I still want the guys with lined wallets, but I want to use the money I make off them to do other work for lower or non-existent rates.”

It’s a pretty incredible idea. A noble thing in a field that Helen wouldn’t expect such nobility to exist.

“What are you gonna call your business? I mean your last name is already taken.”

“I,” Aline starts and thinks for a moment. “Have no idea really. You any good at naming things?” She playfully pushes at Helen’s shoulder in question.

“Ha, no,” Helen barks out the laugh and admits. “We had three dogs growing up and as the oldest I always ended up naming them, they were all named Spot.”

“Helen, Spot? That’s the most basic dog name in the world, did they even have spots?” Aline laughs.

“Two of them did,” she defends. “The third was plain white, poor little guy got a lot of questions.”

Aline chuckles at that taking another sip of her wine before she speaks.

“It’s pretty nice of you to fill in for your friend by the way,” Aline says. “Most people would have forced them to get it together to go.”

Helen shrugs, they tried that. It failed.

“She’s not really heartbroken or anything, she’s just stubborn as hell, so even though I expected this to be a bore frankly, I fell for her sways,” she explains then adds on to make Aline feel certain. “I am however having a great time, so no regrets.”

Aline smiles finishing off her wine and sitting the glass to the side on the steps.

“I’m glad you’re having a nice time,” she says. “And no offence to your friend who I’m sure is lovely, but I’m glad it’s you that came here tonight.”

Helen finishes off her wine as well and turns to face Aline. She’s suddenly a lot closer than she had been a moment ago, just a few inches of space between them. For a second Helen contemplates moving her hands from her lap to settle one atop Aline’s on the step. Aline looks a lot like she wants her to do just that.

But before she can move a booming voice sounds behind them and they shift apart at the sound.

“Excuse us ladies,” the Jonas Brothers large imposing security guard says as they all file in behind him. Helen and Aline both stand smiling at each other quickly and brushing off the moment. The Jonas Brothers ease by them saying their goodbyes and nice to meet you’s, but Helen barely notices instead watching Aline’s striking profile in the low-lit stairwell wondering just what could have happened had the moment not been broken.

***

They head back into the party after the Jonas Brother sized interruption, Aline keeping a safe distance between them after that charged moment. The mayor leaves and most of the other local politicians do as well and Aline can tell Helen’s bored, but also more at ease. Clearly she’s not a big crowd person, which has Aline worried a bit about the actual Times Square portion of the evening.

They gather their coats following two burly security guards and a driver twice their size out to the street where they’re taken to a small vehicle that can work its way safely through the crowds.

They get in and after a while Aline starts to worry. Helen’s getting more and more quiet as the minutes pass their light talk tensing into silence that seems more about the situation than overthinking about their moment in the stairwell.

“You okay?” Aline asks bravely reaching out to take Helen’s hand in hers.

Helen squeezes her hand in response with a shaky smile. They reach as far as the car can go and the two security guards ready to part the crowds with their behemoth size and get them to where they need to be. Helen freezes as soon as they step out of the vehicle, seemingly frozen in place.

Aline gives the security guards a look that they perceive correctly pushing up enough space so that there’s good distance between the crowd line and where Helen stands. Helen’s looking around a little frantically like the reality of this crowd and the fact she’s going to have to move through it a bit is suddenly hitting her.

Aline could try and talk her down, tell her it’s going to be okay, but she knows that if Helen gets panicked enough no words are going to help this situation. She likes this woman; she doesn’t want to put her in a situation that’ll put her in bad headspace. So, she takes a leap and makes an offer.

“You wanna get out of here?” Aline asks hand gliding up and down Helen’s arms in a soothing manner. This contest is a wash. The actual winner isn’t here and despite seeming into it earlier in the day Helen is now freaking out about the crowd. She already met the Jonas Brother’s and the Mayor and geeked out about politics; that can count as her contest winning prize.

“You can’t just leave, the Mayor and everything,” Helen says with a shake of her head. “I’ll be fine.”

Aline immediately starts shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this and clearly don’t actually want to. Technically my job here is finished. The party and showing you around was my job; the ball drop is more in Ryan Seacrest’s hands than anyone else’s and I’m fairly certain that a pack of five grown men can handle pressing a button. As for the Mayor I’ve done my part I schmoozed and he already sent his wife my info, I’m in the door and a good handful of other doors as well, so don’t worry about that.”

Her hands find Helen’s gripping them tight. “So, in a completely non-leading, just caring about your comfort kind of way, do you want to get out of here?”

Helen releases a breath Aline’s fairly certain she’s been holding far too long, a shy smile gracing her pretty pink lips.

“Where are we going?”

Aline beams tugging Helen past the crowd slowly moving onto the more breathable side streets. She gets one of the guard’s attention making her way back to where they came from. The vehicle has already left, but the guard happily guides them through the crowd making a path and getting them safely outside of the Times Square hot zone. She holds Helen’s hand tight ensuring they don’t get separated the entire time.

When they finally reach the freer, but still buzzing streets the guard nods to them and heads back with instructions from Aline to tell the mayor there was a personal emergency that he needs not worry about.

“I know a pretty great party a few blocks away, that has some great music and damn good food. I bet we can make it there before midnight,” Aline says turning to Helen. People bustle around them a few uncaringly bumping into her as she speaks. Thank you New York. “Unless you just want to go home.”

“No,” Helen says quickly, maybe a little quicker than she intended judging from the blush on her cheeks. She seems calmer now, comforted by the normal bustle of a New York street. “I want to go with you, a party sounds fun.”

Aline nods taking her hand once again and guiding her through the streets.

***

Helen’s fears slip away in crashing waves the further they get away from Times Square. The normal bustle of a New York street is oddly comforting to her as is Aline’s hand in hers. She can’t quite believe Aline just ditched it all for her, to make her feel comfortable and is now taking her to one of the hottest parties in the world.

They walk quietly all the way to the Edom Records party Aline clearly giving her the room to get back to ease. The mental space, but close physical comfort of their entangled hands makes Helen’s quick growing crush grow even stronger.

They get into the Edom party easily Aline being recognized by the man at the door instantly. Aline sadly informs her they missed dinner, but dessert is being served shortly. By the time they shed their coats, Helen’s at the same ease she’d been at when the first party had begun.

Aline takes her hand again pulling her into the main hall and Helen is floored. The space is gorgeous and open, if the party for her had looked beautiful this is an entirely different level.

“Wow,” Helen whispers uncertain Aline can hear over the music.

Aline smirks over her shoulder, confident and breezy. She definitely heard her. Magnus Bane is performing on stage and Helen is a little floored by how good he sounds live. Magnus Bane who Aline evidently knows.

“He’s dating my best friend, sort of, it’s complicated,” she shrugs as she plucks two glasses of champagne off of a waiter’s passing tray. She hands one out to Helen. “You feel better now?”

Helen nods, “Definitely. Thank you for that back there, usually a few glasses of wine would take off the edge of crowd worry, but I guess it didn’t work tonight.”

Aline nods in understanding, “It’s no problem. Times Square crowds are a whole lot bigger than a packed club or something of that nature.” She pauses for a second seemingly debating her next words. “Plus, just us at midnight and not on national television could be pretty nice.”

Helen takes in a sharp breath at the layered meaning of that. Midnight means kisses and the concept of kisses with Aline sends her mind into overdrive.

“To us?” Helen says feeling a little bold with Aline’s more blatant flirtations coming out now. She holds out her glass.

Aline smiles reaching out her own glass and tipping it against Helen’s.

“To us.”

***

They finish their glasses of champagne and Aline holds out a hand for Helen offering a dance that she shyly accepts. The songs go quiet after a while Magnus singing a sweet acoustic track Aline instantly recognizes. She and Helen are taking a dance break just listening to the slow beat. Aline looks around and spots Alec across the room frozen in time as he listens to the song he’s been avoiding for months.

A small smile comes across her lips and she hopes on everything her best friend doesn’t run away from this. Magnus is pouring every emotion into every line and she hopes Alec recognizes every breath is for him.

She casts a sideways glance to Helen watching as she looks at the stage swaying lightly to the song. Helen turns her head catching Aline’s eye. She looks like she’s about to turn away but instead holds the eye contact until the song comes to a close. The boisterous clapping from the room breaks the moment and quickly both of them are standing clapping along with the rest of the crowd.

A DJ takes over and the room starts to spread out a bit more, chatter all around as waiters make their way around with plates of gorgeously designed cupcakes.

They each snatch two cupcakes off a passing waiter’s tray, two strawberry for Aline. One strawberry and one chocolate for Helen.

“Is this the best cupcake I’ve ever tasted or am I just way hungrier than I realized?” Aline asks after the first bite, ready to propose marriage to the cupcake in her hand.

“Definitely the best cupcake,” Helen says as they both polish of their first ones quickly. Aline already half done with her second by the time Helen is biting in to her chocolate one.

“Oh wow,” Helen says taking a bit from her second cupcake making an almost orgasmic sound that nearly knocks Aline off her feet. “You really should have gotten a chocolate one too, even better than the strawberry.”

Aline shakes her head trying to ignore the way that sound affected her.

“No way,” she scoffs ignoring the pit of want in her stomach.

Helen proceeds to shove the rest of the cupcake in her mouth and it shouldn’t be cute with crumbs flinging everywhere, but somehow it is. She brushes her hands off to the side, grabbing another flute of champagne as a waiter passes by and drinks down half of it before handing the other half to Aline. She tosses it back before holding out a hand.

“Thirty minutes till midnight,” she says hoping the thirty minutes will allow her the chance to build up the courage to kiss Helen. That blatant stare they had minutes ago tells her this is definitely a mutual feeling, just one of them needs to make the first move and she’s betting it needs to be her. “Let’s keep dancing.”

Helen takes her hand smiling as she pulls her in close on the dance floor.

#heline #heline fic #shadowhunters #helen blackthorn #aline penhallow #shadowhunters fic

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caelesjjk · 6 years

Text

Push (Part 2)

Welcome to Part 2 babes!! Feedback is the best, so leave me some okay? I hope you guys like it!!

It was rainy and cold outside now. The leaves on the trees were starting to change colors and fall from the branches above. I loved walking to work on days like this. I loved taking in the smell of the rain and the sound of the leaves crunching underneath my boots. I loved the way the raindrops slid down my see-through umbrella. And best of all, my favorite coffee shop was getting in all their new flavors for the season and I couldn’t wait to grab a cup before I got to the school.

The little bell above the sky blue door rang quietly as I opened it, shaking out my umbrella and smiling at the sweet older couple behind the tall wooden counter. Mr. and Mrs. Hatfield owned the little coffee shop and were always kind enough to remember my order and my name.

“Good morning, Isabella.” Mr. Hatfield said as I approached the counter.

“When will I convince you to call me Izzy, Mr. Hatfield?” I asked him.

“Isabella is too beautiful a name to shorten it.” He grabs a mug and waits for me to tell him what I’d like to drink, while Mrs. Hatfield is already handing me a blueberry scone.

“I’ll do the chai tea latte today.” I smile and start to hand Mrs. Hatfield my money when someone from behind me pushes my hand away to hand her some money.

“Her order is on me.” The familiar voice says a little too closely to my ear. I turn towards him.

“Calum?” I say, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Morning, Bambi.” He smirks, grabbing a different coffee from the counter and walking towards a table in the corner of the small shop. I’m left there just staring after him.

“Here you are, dear.” Mr. Hatfield hands me my drink but I’m still not sure what to do with myself. What was he doing here? Why this coffee shop of all the coffee shops he could walk into?

“Well…go on dear.” Mrs. Hatfield motions with her head towards Calum’s table.

“What? I mean no…he’s just my boyfriend’s roommate.” I push some hair behind my ear and pick up the small plate from the counter containing my scone.

“That’s not what your eyes said when you saw him.” She motions with her head again, coaxing me to sit with him.

“I just…I um. Okay.” I stumble over my words and slowly make my way over to the table Calum is sitting at. His feet are propped up on the chair in front of him and he’s reading yet another book. This time, it’s the Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. One of my all-time favorites.

“Need something, Bambi?” He doesn’t look up from the book, but I can see the small crinkles next to his eyes forming, meaning he is most definitely smirking behind that book.

“Can I…” I look back at Mrs. Hatfield and she widens her eyes expectantly “Can I sit with you?” I finally get out.

He doesn’t say anything, he only slides his feet off the chair across from him and turns the page of his book. I bite my lip, quickly sitting down on the chair and settling into it. I have no idea what to say to him, or how to say it. Calum smells slightly of cigarette smoke and delightfully woodsy cologne. It was much nicer than I wanted to admit. His white tshirt was tucked into a pair of holey blue jeans and covered by a maroon colored zip up hoodie. The curls on his head looked freshly showered and sticking up in a few places, and he was sort of…beautiful.

“You’re staring again, Bambi.” Calum lowers his book and meets my eyes.

“No I’m not.” I try to take a sip of my drink and almost drop it back down onto the table. He smiles wider and shakes his head a few times.

“What would Michael think if he knew his sweet little girlfriend was ogling his best friend?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“I’m just sitting here, Calum. I’m sorry you’re such an egomaniac that even something that simple is apparently all about you.” I stand up from the chair and start gathering my things back together. What a waste of time this was.

“Sit down, Bambi.” He says, laying down the book he was reading on the table.

“No. I have to get to work.” I grab my bag and umbrella and take a few steps towards the door.

“Isabella. Please sit down.” Calum is standing up at the table now, he doesn’t make a move towards me though.

“And what will we talk about, Calum?” I turn back around and slump my shoulders.

“First of all, you can tell me how you manage to survive the elements with that ridiculous umbrella.” His tattooed arms are crossed over his chest as he motions towards the chair for me to sit down. I sigh loudly and walk back to the chair.

“I’ll sit back down on one condition.” I say.

“What’s that?” He slides back into his chair.

“You don’t make fun of my favorite umbrella, ever again.” I smile at him as I sit back down and he laughs lightly.

“Alright then, Bambi. No more umbrella jokes.” His long fingers come up onto the table top and push the small plate with my scone on it back towards me. “Eat up.” He says lowly. It’s like he has a direct line between my legs, and I have no idea why.

Sitting here with him isn’t uncomfortable. It’s strangely comfortable. We talk about the book he was reading. I tell him that I’ve read it dozens of times and he admits the same. It was hard to imagine him as someone who read so often, but from my small amount of encounters with him, I was wrong. He asked about my job, and I told him about the sweet kids in my class. He told me he was an editor for a very small publisher here in the city. It was also something I didn’t expect but could completely see the more I listened to him talk. He also explained that his normal coffee shop across the street had been turned into some kind of hipster café and he wasn’t about to deal with that every morning. It made me laugh but only because I couldn’t imagine what the odds could possibly be that this would be his new found favorite place to read and drink black coffee.

“I should really go this time.” I said, looking down at the time on my phone. Just as I was about to put it away, it dinged with a text message from Michael.

Morning beautiful girl.

I smiled at the screen before typing a quick reply and putting the phone away. Calum looked up at me as I stood, the smile on his face not really there anymore.

“Did you tell Michael I was here with you?” He asked flatly.

“No. It didn’t come up.” I adjust my coat and look back down at him in his chair.

“Good. Don’t.” He slams his feet back down onto the chair I was sitting in before and picks up his book.

“Alright. See you around, Calum.” I don’t want to say anything else. Something has apparently upset him and I’m not here to push the issue.

When I arrive at the school ten minutes later, Michael is standing out front with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. His head is covered by a black beanie and he’s wearing an all black hoodie with some of his favorite anime characters on the front of it. I try to control my smile by biting my lip and walking towards him.

“It’s freezing out here, babe. What took you so long?” He smiles, handing me the flowers and holding my wind burnt cheeks in his cold hands.

“It just took a little longer to get coffee this morning, that’s all. What are you doing here Mikey?” I step up closer to him while he continues to hold my face.

“Well…” He presses a sweet kiss to my lip. “These are the first of many more presents you’ll be getting.”

“Presents? Why are you getting my presents?” I laugh lightly.

“Your birthday is on Saturday, love.” Michael says. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I had completely forgotten about my own birthday.

“Wow. I didn’t think I could be anymore scatter brained these days.” I lay my head against his chest and give him one more quick hug.

“We can go out on Saturday if you like? And you can stay at my place?” He kisses my cheek as I start to walk up the steps to the school.

“Sure. That would be great.” I tried to say with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

“Awesome. I think you’ll like your last gift, but I can’t give you that one until we get back to my house Saturday night.” Michael says, his hands gripping a little tighter at my hips. Was he trying to imply something?

“Looking forward to it.” I smile and kiss his cheek. “I should go inside, I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, babe. Have a good day.” He lets go of my hips and begins his way back down the sidewalk.

I’m beginning to wonder if this morning actually happened. It all feels surreal. Seeing Calum in the coffee shop and enjoying his company. Michael showing up outside of the school and basically saying he wanted to have sex Saturday night. And I should most certainly be excited about that part. It’s what I’ve been wanting, for us to go to that next step. But now I felt more…uncertain than I had before.

Distracted would be the word I’d use to describe the rest of the day. There were so many thoughts swimming through my mind. Michael. Calum. And all the confusing feelings that came with them. The thoughts I was having about Calum weren’t right. I shouldn’t be thinking them at all. I was perfectly content with my sweet boyfriend. Right? Of course I am. A text message ding from Michael breaks me away from my thoughts as I walk home from work.

Come over? I have a surprise for you.

You already gave me a present today, Mikey.

One more. The doors unlocked, just come in.

Okay.

I took a deep breath and started walking towards Michael’s house instead of my own. It was farther than I’d normally walk but I needed to clear my head on the way there. I was mostly hoping that once I got there, I wouldn’t see Calum at all, and maybe that would make it easier not think about him. But because I have monumental bad luck, Calum is standing outside on the small front step smoking a cigarette. He’s leaning against the side of the house with his hood over his head.

"Shit.” I whisper to myself as I approach the house.

“Back so soon?” He says as he breathes out the smoke.

“Michael invited me over.” I sigh.

“You don’t seem thrilled.” He raises an eyebrow.

“I am. Of course I am.” I scoff and reach for the door handle, but he wraps his hand around my wrist and stops me.

“Meet me in the kitchen tonight, okay? Around midnight.” He looks very serious as he says the words.

“Why?” I can barely breathe out the word, his hand on my skin is making it too difficult.

“We need to talk.” At that, he lets go of my wrist and steps back, placing the cigarette back in his plump lips.

I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I wasn’t expecting anything like that from him. I struggle with the door handle for a moment before I walk inside. I hear Calum quietly laugh at my struggle and I can’t help but smile at the sound. Once I’m inside, I slip off my boots and coat and walk back towards Michael’s bedroom. There’s soft music playing inside and I’m not sure if I should knock, but in the mean time, Michael has already opened the door surprising me and making me jump.

“Hey sweetheart. How long have you been standing out here?” He reaches for my hand and I let him take it.

“Just for a second. I was just… thinking.” I try to play off my internal turmoil.

“Well get in here beautiful.” He pulls gently on my hand and I clumsily step into his room.

There are a few candles lit on his desk and bookshelf and another gift bag sitting on the middle of his bed. I feel sick to my stomach.

“You really shouldn’t buy me anymore gifts, Mikey.” My voice shakes. All I can think about is meeting Calum at midnight.

“Come on babe, your birthday’s only once a year.” He leans over the bed and picks up the giftbag, handing it to me with the cutest smile on his face. I smile back and take the tissue paper out of the bag.

Inside the bag is a picture frame with a picture of the two of us from a couple weeks ago. We were in front of one of the big fountains in the middle of the city. Michael’s arm was wrapped around my shoulders and I kissing his cheek. I had almost forgotten we took this picture.

“Thank you, Mikey. This is so sweet. I love it.” I can feel myself getting a little emotional. And not because of how much I like the gift, but because a minute ago I was thinking about my boyfriend’s roommate. I’m a terrible person.

“Aww, don’t cry babe. I’m glad you like it.” He kisses my lips and lets it linger for a moment.

“I really do.” I breathe on his lips. He smiles against my mouth and kisses me again.

It’s just a slow movement of lips at first, and then our tongues start swiping over the other. Michael takes the picture from my hands and sits it down, before backing me up until the backs of my knees hit his bed.

“Do you want to lie down?” He asks, still kissing me.

“Okay.” I need to do this. I need to stop thinking about Calum.

I lay back against Michael’s comforter and he gently lays his body on top of mine, pressing his lips back to mine quickly. One of his hands touches my side and my hip where my shirt has started rising from our movements. It was almost working, I almost forgot completely about Calum and got lost in Michael. But that part of my brain that just can’t seem to stop thinking about Calum and his heavenly smile and perfect skin decided to speak up and I couldn’t keep it up anymore.

“You alright, Izzy?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m just tired is all.” I run my fingers through his soft hair reassuringly.

“Okay, I’ll get us something to eat. You relax, yeah?” He kisses me once more before getting off the bed and helping me up.

“Thanks, Mikey.” I watch as he smiles over his shoulder at me and walks out of his room. I quickly stand up and wipe at my mouth and eyes. What is wrong with me? Am I going insane?

I happily ate the Chinese food that Michael ordered, but I also couldn’t stop watching the clock on the other side of the room. I shouldn’t go. I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he has some kind of power over me. But more of me wanted to know what he had to say. I needed to know what he could possibly want from me.

I wasn’t going to go. I was going to stay right where I was and forget about this whole thing completely. I would lay here next to my boyfriend and not go anywhere near his roommate.

But as the red numbers on the clock turned to 12:00 I became restless. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even force my body to turn away from the clock. And when it was 12:05, I couldn’t take it anymore, I quietly got out of Michael’s warm bed, making sure that he was still fast asleep before walking out in just his t-shirt and my underwear. I nervously padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen.

The only light on was the extremely dim one above the sink. Calum was standing there with his back to me with only some dark gray sweats draped on his hips. His hands were bracing him against the counter as he took a deep breath and turned around when he heard me come into the room.

“Don’t you own any pajama pants, Bambi?” Calum smirks, melting my insides.

“I didn’t go home after work. Stop looking if it bothers you so much.” Usually, I would move to cover myself, but I didn’t want to anymore.

“I don’t think ‘bother’ is the word I’d use.” He looks down before he takes a few steps towards me.

“Why did you want to talk to me,Calum?” I move over towards the fridge and lean my back against it.

“You can’t like me, Isabella.” He says.

“Like you? What are you talking about?” My eyes are wide.

“I see how you look at me. How you smile at me. You’re with Mike and I don’t want him getting hurt because you can’t control yourself around me.” There’s a slight teasing in the way he says it, and it makes my blood boil.

“Fuck you, Calum. Don’t take me being friendly with my boyfriend’s roommate as flirting. It’s definitely not. Not even close.” I move away from the fridge. “And another thing, you’re the one always flirting with me. So maybe you should cut that shit out?” The words come out so quickly they’re barely understandable but I’m so angry that I don’t care in the slightest.

“I haven’t been flirting. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” He crosses his arms over his bare chest and looks at me expectantly. I glare at him and move to walk out of the kitchen. “Wait.” He says quickly.

“Honestly, I don’t want to ever talk to you again. We can be civil for Michael’s sake, and that’s it. Otherwise, you can just go fuck yourself.” I start to turn away again.

“Never heard you talk like this, Bambi. It’s kind of hot.” I don’t even have to turn around to know he’s smirking. So proud of his pigheaded comment.

“Really? You literally JUST flirted with me. Are you fucking insane? No, I’m the one who’s insane for coming in here to talk to you.” I’m almost out the door this time when he says my name again.

“Isabella, just wait.” I turn around to see him standing in the middle of the kitchen now.

“What else do you want from me?” I sigh.

“Obviously, no one has ever flirted with you properly, if you thought that was flirting.” He steps towards me and I take another step back until my back is against the wall.

“That’s absurd, Calum.” I try to look away from his eyes, but it’s nearly impossible. They’re dark and warm and oh so easy to get lost in.

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks quietly once he’s only a few inches away from me.

“That’s not any of your business.” I can barely breathe.

“Just answer the question, Isabella.” His hands come up and rest against the wall, trapping me there with very little oxygen reaching my brain.

“No. I didn’t. Not yet.” I manage to look up and see his mouth set into a straight line.

“Why did you meet me in here tonight?” He asks. His face is close to mine I can feel his breaths.

“You asked me to.” I say quickly.

“That’s not good enough.” His bottom lip goes between his teeth as he steps up closer, his hips pressing lightly against mine. Fuck, where’s the oxygen?

“I wanted to know what you had to say.” I reply again as more of a whisper.

“You know why I think you came in here?” One of his hands comes down from the wall, and I watch as he brings it down close to my thigh. “I think you wanted me to touch you.” He whispers the words in my ear, every inch of my skin blanketing in goosebumps.

The tip of his middle finger touches the skin just above my knee, drawing a small circle before slowly dragging up. I don’t stop him. I should stop him. But I can’t. I want him to touch me.

“Calum…” Is the only word I can get out.

“I think you wanted me to touch you here.” He says lowly, his middle finger pushing up the t-shirt I’m wearing so he can trace it along the band of my underwear. “And here…” He dips his finger just inside the band and slides it across to the front of my body and stops. “Maybe here…” He starts to slide his finger down the front of my underwear.

“Shit…” I say with a shaky breath.

“Goodnight, Bambi.” I can feel him smile against my ear where he’s been whispering as he pulls his hand away and slowly walks out of the kitchen. I can hear his door shut down the hall before I open my eyes and release the longest breath of my life.

“What the fuck…” I use my hand to wipe at the sweat starting to form on my forehead.

What am I doing?

#calum hood fic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #calum hood #Michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #you guys need to give me more feedback #it fuels my soul #I love this so much I cant wait to write more

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crowkingwrites · 6 years

Text

Vicious (Ch. 4)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Summary: The story of Lyanna Baratheon, the trueborn daughter of Robert and Cersei, and the Bolton Bastard and what happens when they decide to take the Iron Throne for themselves.

(Prologue) (Chapter One) (Chapter Two) (Chapter 3)

Words: 2046 // Ao3 Link

Here’s where you can buy me a Ko-Fi!

The storm raged against the castle. The winds took leaves off the ground and moved them far from their home. Branches thrashed against one another. One branch cracked from a godswood tree and fell to the ground. Storms in the North could be terrifying. Lyanna backed away from the window to find her cousin in the room. She sharply flinched and he laughed.

“Is the North truly that terrifying, cousin?” Markus chuckled.

“No.” Lyanna shook my head.. “You must admit that this storm is nasty. I’m glad we got here when we did.”

“Aye,” he responded.

A short, sharp knock came at the door. Both turned to see Ramsay Bolton looking back at Lyanna. He was dressed appropriately for the weather outside, and in his hand he held a lit candle.

“Ramsay, what can I do for you?” she asked. Ramsay’s blue eyes stared back into her green ones. For a moment, he seemed to be more lost in thought than present. Lyanna was about to ask again when she watched him snap out of it.

“My father, Roose, wishes to have you at tonight’s dinner,” he said. “In lieu of a tour. He wished to hold off due to…” Ramsay gestured to the weather.

“Thank you,” Lyanna nodded. “I will be there.” Ramsay walked away with the lit candle. The small light following him down the corridors. A small interaction, but a meaningful one. Cersei left her a dagger for him. Allyis’ words warned her of him.

“You’re not marrying a man. You’re marrying a monster.”

He only invited her to dinner. He clutched his stomach at the sight of her. Not much of any kind of monster. Lyanna shrugged it off and pushed Markus out of the room so she may change for dinner. Allyis, Lysa, and Theodosia flocked to her as they assisted her in changing.

“Black, my lady?” Lysa asked out of curiosity.

“I wish to make a statement. I’m still grieving for my brother. Joffery meant the world to me, and now he’s gone.” Lyanna told them while stepping away to her vanity. Red jewels adorned her neck as if she had been sliced open. It would’ve been the kinder death than the one her younger brother faced. Her girls stayed mostly silent.

“I know what your thoughts are. I know what he did to you.” Lyanna continued. “I remember him striking me when I defended all of you. I’m not blind. Joffery was a monster. He deserved every bit that happened to him. I imagine my Uncle Tyrion enjoyed every bit poisoning him.”

“The trial,” Allyis said to herself. “I expect your uncle is in the dungeons by now.”

“That’s exactly where he should be,” Lyanna said. Her harsh tone was noted by her girls. Theodosia tied her hair back in a hybrid of north and south hair with black ribbons. With Markus as her escort, Lyanna entered the dining hall for dinner.

The private dining hall was intimate and strange to Lyanna. It was larger than the one she shared with her family, and instead of windows that displayed Blackwater Bay, there was snow. Fire raged inside the large fireplace where ancestral swords and shields were displayed. The Bolton banners were hung on each side of the fireplace.

At the table sat Roose and his wife, Lady Walda Frey, at the head of the table. Ramsay, who still looked sick, sat quietly and stared at his empty plate. Ser Aeron Payne sat proudly next to Roose and bragged on about his victories that Roose did not care for. Another vistor joined them. One that Lyanna did not anticipate.

“Uncle Kevan?” she said aloud. Kevan Lannister was a bit rounder than his older brother, Tywin. He still had the blonde hair and green eyes like any Lannister would, but he wasn’t considered handsome by most of the family. His grand sword and crimson velvet grments made him look prettier than he was. Cersei saw him as exhausting. Lyanna saw him as a constant pillar in her own upbringing.

“It’s good to see you, Lyanna,” he greeted her with an embrace and kiss on the head. Something familiar meant much ore to her now more than ever. “I am sorry about your brother. Are you still grieving?”

Lyanna nodded. Her eyes welled up, but she shook it off. The Boltons couldn’t know that she was weak.

“When did you get here? I didn’t see you here,” Lyanna inquired.

“Days before you. I had a feeling Ser Aeron Payne’s skills would get you here later than we hoped. I’ve come to settle our alliance with the Boltons. And to make sure you’re comfortable here.” Kevan glanced back at the table and stepped closer to Lyanna, speaking in a voice only she would hear. “The North is much more dangerous than you think. I’m not leaving you here until I know you are safe.”

“Uncle,” Lyanna’s brows knitted together. “is there something I should know?” The question hung in the air between the both of them. Her ladies-in-waiting told her the truth about Ramsay Bolton. She wanted someone to fess up. Her great uncle shook his head.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” He patted her back and offered her a seat. Lyanna let out a long sigh before sitting directly across from Ramsay. After the food was served, Lyanna watched Ramsay push around his food and say next to nothing other than nodding at his father’s comments and chewing his food. This monster that was described to her was nothing more than just a man slightly older than her who was sick. She wasn’t impressed.

After dinner, the storm had finally quelled. Fresh snow sat undisturbed on Winterfell as everyone cozied up inside the palace. Lyanna took time to write a letter to her sister, Marcella, who like her was in a different world arranged to marry a man she barely knew. From her sister’s letters, Marcella had confessed to falling in love with Trystane. How deep his voice had become, how smooth his dark skin was, and how he tasted like oranges.

Lyanna’s mind slipped away as she tried to think of Ramsay the same way. His dark mess of hair was a bit boyish, but his eyes seemed to have something behind them. He wore thick layers of clothing. Lyanna didn’t know if he was fit or stout. He was quiet or normal to her. Why would people describe him as a monster?

Still, could she fall for him like her sister fell for her sunshine? Possibly. Lyanna always liked darker boys. She once had a small crush on a particularly sadistic knight named Dom. In tourneys, Lyanna would watch him beat his opponents to a bloody pulp. Once, he won the king’s tourney and presented a crown of flowers to her. She had only been thirteen. Her face flushed with color. Robert was almost too drunk to notice it, but then he saw Ser Dom have a certain twinkle in his eye.

It wasn’t long after that Ser Dom wasn’t seen again.

“My lady?” a croaky voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Ramsay Bolton, standing there, waiting for a response.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Lost in thought.” Lyanna covered up her letter to Marcella and pushed it aside. “Writing to my sister. Do you have any siblings?”

“I had one, yes.”

“Had?”

“He died from sickness,” Ramsay explained. “He was my father’s firstborn and his only trueborn. Unfortunately, he was a weak boy.” Lyanna frowned. She didn’t realize losing a sibling would be the first thing they had in common.

“Ah,” she reacted. “I assume you understand my pain then. Losing a brother is…indescribable.”

“I can’t say I’ve known my brother as long as you have known yours,” Ramsay offered his hand to her. She accepted it as she took his arm. They both began walking through the corridors. “But perhaps you and I view death differently. Here, death is common thing. I feel nothing about it. You people in the South are safer with your pretty armor. Death is not common especially among the rich.”

“You didn’t mourn your brother?” Lyanna asked, searching his face for an emotion.

“No. Why would I? His illness would have made us look weak to enemies. They would’ve taken the Dreadfort from us. Better to get rid of the weak to move us forward.”

“I agree,” Lyanna said. Ramsay stopped them both. He turned to her in surprise.

“You agree?”

“How can we have a legacy or a dynasty if we leave the weak ones to lead? That’s asking for an entire family to be forgotten or killed.” Ramsay smirked and started to hum the Rains of Castamere. Lyanna cracked a smile, knowing the tune.

“I’ve forgotten how proud your family is of their revenge. A Lannister always pays their debts?”

“We do, but those are not our words.”

“They might as well be. People up here live in fear of the Lannisters. There was quite the disagreement among the folk here.”

“I’m assuming those loyal to the Starks are not keen on the idea of having me here,” Lyanna smiled.

“Your namesake is entirely northern. They should be proud someone of your status is here,” Ramsay glared at a guard who watched you both. The guard nodded and continued his way back to his post. “Besides, anyone who is loyal to the Starks are gone. Anyone who tells you otherwise can be sent my way.”

“Thank you,” Lyanna nodded. Ramsay grabbed onto her bedroom door handle and opened it.

“Tomorrow morning, I should like to take you around Winterfell on horseback. Get you used to your new surroundings.” Ramsay’s eyes watched for her reaction.

“I should like that.” Lyanna nodded and closed the door behind her. He was nice. Nicer than a monster, she supposed. Maybe he was just sick. His voice was croaky. His eyes had bags under them. Getting to know your own husband was harder work than she thought. She wondered if her mother had any advice. She made a mental note to write to her soon.

Lyanna untied her cress and corsets, letting the fabric fall to the floor. She felt free of the constant tightened strings and felt like she could breathe more freely. She felt the idents in her skin where the corset was tightened the most. Her fingers rubbed over them, feeling the bumps and waves it made.

She slipped on a simple sleeping gown and wrapped herself in the thick fur blankets that Kevan had gifted her earlier. He called it ‘a housewarming gift’ to welcome her to her new home. If Lyanna was going to be the Lady of Winterfell, that morning tour was necessary. Lyanna needed to deeply know her new world in order to rule it.

She could hear her mother now. Power is power. She remembered that encounter with Littlefinger. She remembered the shadow of a smile she slyly gave to her mother, but she disagreed with her. Power is not power. Knowledge is power. The more you knew about everyone, the further you could get ahead.

The sky was darkening now. Everything was silenced to a hush. Knowledge wasn’t as important as sleep should be. Lyanna felt her eyes drooping. A deep yawn escaped her mouth as she laid in the soft bed.

Maybe it was because she was exhausted. Or maybe she was half-asleep. Lyanna heard someone outside her window. She rubbed her eyes and went to look through it. Nothing. No one was outside. Not a single footprint disturbed the fresh snow.

‘Lyanna…you’re home…Lyanna…you’re home.’

It was an old voice. One that had known years and years of living. It creaked and croaked and repeated the same thing over again.

‘Lyanna…you’re home…Lyanna…you’re home.’

Lyanna looked again. She had to be mistaken. Someone was outside in the cold. Talking to her. Again, there was no footprints in the snow. Not a single creature walked out from the woods. All Lyanna saw was the old godswood tree. Snow weighed down some of the leaves and branches. It stood tall and proud. Its eyes cried out a red, thick sap that streamed down its face as if it wasn’t too happy to see her.

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#vicious #game of thrones #got #got imagine #ramsay #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #ramsay imagine #imagine ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay snow x reader #lyanna baratheon #ramsay x lyanna

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joshpup · 7 years

Text

To Love Or Not To Love // Pt. 9

Intro // Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 // Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 // Pt. 10 // Pt. 11 // Pt. 12 // Pt. 13 // Pt. 14 // Pt. 15 // Pt. 16 // Pt. 17 Word Count: 2,560 Genre: Svt Mafia Au Member: Mingyu TW: Angst, Cursing, Violence, mention of blood, eventually fluff. idk about tw if there is one i should add pls let me know im bad at them

“No one else has told you yet?” Joshua asked, plucking a section from the clementine and popping it in his mouth.

“I’ve heard things here and there, but no one’s bothered to give me the full story. They all said that was something for you to tell me.” you explained. Joshua nodded.

“There’s no point in keeping it from you, besides we are kind of in the same boat if you haven’t figured out yet.” He said, leaning back in his chair. “Do you want the short version of the long version?”

“Whichever you think is best.”

“I’ll try to keep it on the shorter side then, but no promises.” Joshua said, adjusting his seat before going into the tale.

“So, I lived a pretty well-off childhood. I spent most of it with my mom, because my dad was always in and out of the house on his so called ‘business trips.’ Only later did I find out that he was actually a part of a gang, and actually held a pretty high up position in that gang. He’d managed to keep it well hidden from me, so well hidden that even after they got me, I didn’t know what was going on. Apparently, my dad rubbed the wrong group the wrong way, and to retaliate they came after me.

“I was on my way to school one day when this group of people showed up and started chasing me. I didn’t even know what was going on but I just ran for my life. I was able to outrun them for a little, but well, as you can tell I didn’t get all the way fast enough. They ended up cornering me and then managed to knocking me unconscious, and before I knew it I was being held hostage at the base camp of one of the most infamous gangs to this day. At the time however they were still growing, but they were big enough to seriously give my dad some issues. Honestly, I’m not sure how hard my dad tried to get me back, I’ve not heard or seen him since that day they pulled me off the street.

“My living conditions were almost a hundred times worse than yours. Rather than just letting me adjust in with their daily life like we have for you, they just threw me in one of the empty rooms and almost never let me out. And if they did let me out, it never ended up being a plus for me. I’d usually end up going back to that room in worse condition then when I left. I somehow managed to stay alive for maybe a year? Time was never a concept in that room for me. I didn’t even have a window, let alone a clock. When one of the gang members would get extremely bored they’d come and mess around with me, but after a while I finally just stopped responding to everything, partly from lack of energy, partly because I simply didn’t care anymore, they soon lost interest in that. Thankfully the oldest member of the gang was decent enough to make sure I would at least get one meal a day, but he never bothered to stop any of the other guys from beating me up just for their amusement. However, I think once they realized that my dad wasn’t going to risk his entire gang just for to get me back, they soon forgot about me, and the meals became less and less.

“On top of all this, I tried to escape a few times, which only pissed them off more. I’m surprised they didn’t just kill me off after the second time I tried to run off. I never did make it very far… The furthest was to the front lawn, but the base was located somewhere in the middle of the woods, so even if I did make it away from them, I wouldn’t have the strength to travel all the way through the woods and get help. No matter what I was going to do, I was going to end up dead. I had pretty much accepted my fate when Jeonghan suddenly showed up.

“Apparently one of the members from the gang that had captured me was feeling extra blind that day and thought Jeonghan was a member from one of their branch groups when he found Jeonghan snooping around their base. Thanks to that, Jeonghan was able to use it to his advantage and get further into their base. He never did tell me what he was doing at their base, but when he suddenly slipped into my dark room and realized I was there, barely holding on, his entire mission changed. Honestly, I barely even remember what happened that night. Jeonghan had to carry me out on his back, and I remember hearing gunshots, so we must have just barely escaped. Jeonghan brought me back here, and I basically went into captivity, part two, but this time around was much nicer. Naturally Seungcheol had the same reaction as when Mingyu brought you. The only difference was he thought that I wasn’t going to last very long given the state I arrived in, and let me stay. Ah, I had so many broken bones and was so malnourished it took me so long to get back up to normal health, even now I still have some health issues.

“Of course, similar to what you’re experiencing right now, adapting to this style of living took a while. I never wanted to become part of a gang. I just wanted to get back to my normal life and go to college and get a decent job. I guess it was just meant to be, seeing as how my dad was already in this line of work…There were a lot of trust issues between both me and Seventeen. For the longest time I only ever talked with Jeonghan, and very little at that. To me, it was going from one captor to another, but to Jeonghan, he had saved someone. Because we had such different views on the situation it caused a lot of issues between everyone. I guess that’s how you and Mingyu are right now… It took a good while for me to get to trust everyone, and there were some pretty intense after effects of living as a captive that for so long. Jeonghan would stay up with me all the nights I couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares, and eventually, very slowly, I’ve made it to where I am now.” Joshua said, his clementine long forgotten on the table in front of him. He suddenly laughed. “Honestly when I first saw Jeonghan standing over me that night, I thought he was an angel and I had finally died. In a way I guess he was a sort of angel...”

You were at a complete loss for words. His story gave you a whole new perspective on life. He had been through hell and back and had never once complained about it to you. He barely even showed that he had once been held captive like that. He seemed to fit in so well you had never expected something like this. No wonder none of the other members wanted to talk about what had happened. You couldn’t imagine what they would have done when Jeonghan showed up with Joshua looking like that.

“It’s not too bad though, at least I gained twelve good friends from the whole ordeal, and I can always be here for you when you need it. I know it’s not easy to go through something like this.” He said, gesturing vaguely to the entire house. You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out. Finally, you were able to form some words.

“Is that group that did that to you still out there?” you questioned. Joshua ran his fingers through his hair.

“Yah, god, the first time I ran into them after that I thought the world was going to break open and swallow me. I felt so panicked and sick to my stomach I almost blacked out. Thank god I was with the other members then. It’s been a good few years since that all went down, and since then the two groups have been able to smooth things down enough that we can be civil in public together and not start any petty fights like we used too, but yeah, they’re still out there. And still one of the more powerful groups. I don’t think I could ever be alone with anyone from that group however, it would end badly.”

You didn’t know what to say. The fact that the group that had abused and almost killed someone so nice and gentle as Joshua was still out there made your blood boil. Before you could think of something to say you noticed Joshua’s hands shaking ever so slightly as he reached for a piece of the clementine, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You’d made him relive one of the worst memories of his life. Without thinking you reached across the table and grabbed his hands in yours.

“I’m glad I got to meet you Joshua, and I’m glad you’re doing better now. I’m sorry I made you relive all of that.” you said softly. Joshua smiled, his eyes twinkling brighter than the stars that filled the night sky outside.

“How about we watch a movie to take our minds off everything? We might as well enjoy our time while out ‘captors’ aren’t awake.” he said with a wink, emphasizing captors. In the end, you realized the both of you were being held by seventeen against your will. Sure, they might be giving more freedom to Joshua then they were to you, but in the end, you were both “prisoners” there. It crossed your mind for a moment to ask whether Joshua had ever tried to leave svt, but before you could give it anymore thought Joshua beckoned you towards the living room with the tv, heading straight for the drawer where they kept all the movies.

The next morning you woke up to loud cooing from a few of the other members. When your eyes finally fluttered open and adjusted against the harsh light of the sun you realized that you were still sitting on the couch. Out of exhaustion, both physically and mentally for the two of you, you had both managed to fall asleep halfway through the movie. Somehow along the night, the tv was turned off and the two of you had obtained blankets, and settled down onto the couch, to tried to go back up to your own rooms. It only then occurred to you that you had full on snuggled up against Joshua, who still sat propped up against the back of the couch. He too was just coming back to his senses. You quickly launched yourself away from him, nearly falling off the couch in the process. Leaning against the door frame, staring daggers into both you and Joshua stood Mingyu, his face stone cold. Joshua quickly tried to explain, but Mingyu turned on his heels and walked away before Joshua could even get a full sentence out.

A wave of guilt washed over you the second his glance crossed yours as he turned to walk away. It’s not like you had done anything wrong though, did you really need to feel guilty and explain yourself to him? You didn’t belong to him so what did it matter what you did, all you did was fall asleep…

Regardless of how you felt about the situation, the guilt was still very much present. Mingyu was in a sour mood the entire morning, and Joshua seemed to be feeling just as guilty as you. The awkward air that filled the room at breakfast was stifling. You sat in your seat that had been pulled up next to Hansol and across from Chan. There wasn’t much room there, but it was better than sitting at the other end of the table, staring straight down the table at Seungcheol. You barely had an appetite, but continued to eat anyways, not wanting to show that it had affected you in any way. The breakfast started off extremely quiet, but when Seokmin finally broke the tension everyone started up in the conversation, soon forgetting about the events from earlier that morning. That is all, except Mingyu.

After breakfast, you helped Chan with all the dishes before heading upstairs to take a shower. Upon finding the shower already being used, you made your way to your room and threw yourself down on the bed. Only a few minutes later you heard your door open. You slowly lifted your head to see who it was, not really bothering to move much. That was, until you realized Mingyu had just walked into your room. You slowly sat up, folding your legs in front of you as you watched him walk closer towards you.

“So, do you still want to go to this ball? I doubt Joshua will be going…” Mingyu asked, his words laced with spite.

“Why would Joshua not go?” you asked back, completely ignoring his harsh tone.

“Exo’s going to be there.” He replied, and once he was you puzzled look he explained further. “The group that got him.” You nodded, now realizing that Josh had never even mentioned the name of the group.

“I mean, whether Joshua goes or not doesn’t really bother me, I just really want to get out of this house even if it’s just for a few minutes.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders. There was a moment of silence before you finally spoke up again.

“Anyways, Mingyu about this morning…” you started, only to be cut off by Mingyu himself.

“Joshua already told me everything.” He said, a little less harsh than the past few times.

“So, then you know nothing happened, would you stop being all harsh to me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Mingyu sighed and sat down next to you on the bed.

“I’m sorry, it just bothers me that I didn’t know you couldn’t sleep well at night…” he finally sighed.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I thought I would run into you more than anyone else, especially Joshua, but it does make sense. After all he’s been in the same place as me, a lot worse actually. He would know what to expect from me the most, probably even more than I do myself.” Mingyu nodded. “Don’t go bringing your frustration out on Joshua though, he didn’t do anything wrong. In the end, I’m the one that made him come downstairs, and I made him tell me about what happened back then. We both got so emotional last night that we wouldn’t have been able to sleep if we didn’t do something like watch a movie.” You pointed out. Mingyu nodded once more before standing up.

“I really do want to go to this ball though, Mingyu. I want to meet these Monsta X people too since Seventeen is always spending so much time with them. They must be nice people too.” You said, following him out of your room.

“We’ll just have to ask the boss than.” Mingyu said with a smile.

Next...

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noire-queen · 7 years

Text

Through the mist

It has taken me ages, and many, many hours, but here is your gift, #38, for the @capri-secretsanta!

I hope you’ll enjoy it despite my very ehm personal take on the prompts. And about that, none of this would have been possible hadn't it been for @helaris Who took this story, and turned it on its head with her incredible imagination.

A smutty epilogue will follow, because I realized I bit off more than I could chew with the worldbuilding, and it just didn’t fit all in! All the same, I hope you enjoy it, and I wish you happy holidays and a wonderful 2018.

November

The first time Damen saw it, he thought it was an illusion. A fancy brought on by the fog that clung to his skin and snuck down his throat, not letting him breathe. That must be it, he’d thought.

He’d walked hundreds of times down this alley, and he was pretty sure he knew it by now.

It’s the kind of place only someone like Damen could walk at night. With only a few street lamps here and there, shop-less, without any habitations, it looked more like a black hole than a street.

Still, it was the fastest way to get to his place from work. And even though both Jokaste and Nikandros had agreed that it constantly felt like someone was watching you, Damen had never met a single soul here.

It wasn’t exactly the best place to set up shop though.

But there, in darkest, most secluded part of the narrow street, was a door. A glass door, with a white frame. Light spilled out of it, diffusing to nothing in the mist, never quite reaching the floor.

For a moment, Damen stood there. Then he got closer to it. When trying to peer inside showed him nothing but light, he went for the round brass doorknob. It was covered in ice, the thin needles prickling his skin. When Damen turned it, it gave, the door opened, and Damen stepped in.

The door shut on its own behind him the second both his feet were inside. Damen hardly noticed.

Despite the light spilling outside, the lighting of the room was feeble. Shelves lined the walls on either side. On each of them, glass jars were filled with what looked to be dry flowers, herbs and powders, the colors of which Damen couldn’t make out in the penumbra. Despite the corks closing them, the contents of the jars filled the air with a sharp and spicy smell of cinnamon. Damen took a step forward, and the smell changed, molding itself in a fruity fragrance that reminded him of the red berries tea his mother drank.

The room was longer than it was large. Little cages in which plants were growing, their branches overflowing out of the lit bars, hung from the ceiling. It was the ceiling itself that left Damen breathless. Or rather, the lack of it. Where the ceiling should have been, Damen could see only the dark, ink-black night, and the stars sparkling within it, as purple clouds passed by

A noise drew his attention back to the rest of the place. The ringing of a pendulum. It came from the wall farthest away from Damen. On it, there were at least ten different clocks. It was too dark to read the hours on them. In front of the wall, at the very end of the room, was a counter. Some steps before it, a blackboard, like those you find outside of bars, of cafes. On it, written in white, was a message:

“Hi” It read “ I’m Auguste, and this is my shop.

I don’t know what you’re looking for. I don’t know if it is for you to take a breather, determination, the love of your life.

I don’t know what you need, but the shop does.

In fact, if the shop has found you - that’s likely the reason.

What you need will appear on the counter. You can take it, it’s yours!

I sincerely hope you find what you need. Just keep in mind, that what you want and what you need, are not always the same thing.

Good luck!

Auguste”

“Excuse me?” Damen said. “ Auguste, sir?”

But no-one answered, so Damen went further into the shop, every-one of his steps echoing despite his wearing sneakers.

“Is anybody here?”

Again, no-one answered. So Damen kept walking until he was standing in front of the counter.

At first, he only noticed what was on it. A glass-vial, similar to the others that were on the shelves. It contained a purplish liquid. Hanging from the neck of the vial was a white tag:

“I know what you need.” It read.

For a moment, Damen hesitated. Once again, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “What is this place?” he asked out-loud.

“ One day a person smart enough to read that thing and understand it will walk through that door. That day isn’t today.”

“Pardon?” Damen said.

“Pardon?” the voice mimicked.

“Is anyone here?

“Is anyone here?” the voice mimicked again.

This time, the vial slid backwards on the surface. Damen followed it with his eyes and only when it stopped moving, did he see the hand that had gripped the tag and pulled it backwards.

Up until that moment, Dament hadn’t noticed the man sitting behind the counter before:

The man was slender. He was leaning backwards in his chair, his legs crossed. With one hand, he was toying with the tag of the vial, while the other kept drumming on the surface of the counter. His cool blue eyes stared straight into Damen’s. They stayed like that for a second, both immobile. Then, simultaneously, they snapped out of it. But while the man only narrowed his eyes, Damen asked: “ Excuse me, are you Auguste?”

The man’s eyes went wide. Damen kept on talking. “ You mustn’t have a lot of customers if that’s how you talk to them.”

The man shot up, and leaned over the counter, pressing his palms on it’s surface and bracing his weight that way. His face started getting closer and closer to Damen’s. “ You can see me?” the man managed to ask in a tone that was both incredulous and held also a hint of scorn in it.

He lifted one hand slowly, then moved it close to Damen’s face and then snapped his fingers right in front of his eyes. Then he moved the hand away again.

“Shouldn’t I?”

The man kept moving the hand, observing, Damen supposed, if his eyes were tracking the movement. The man exhaled, and let his hand fall back on the counter.

“That’s novel.” He said. “ It had never happened to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Damen said, shifting in his place, not daring to move. “Are you Auguste?” he asked again.

The man shook his head, but didn’t volunteer any more information. Then he took a step back,

“Who are you, then?”

“I own this place. That, technically, would make me the owner.”

“So you’re not Auguste,” Damen repeated.

“No” the man shook his head “You may call me Owner, or Not-Auguste, or Owner Not-Auguste. Whichever puts your mind at ease. Shop-keeper is fine, too. I’d go for shop-keeper if you were to ask me. It has that-” the man rubbed the tips of his finger together, almost like he had forgotten a word and was trying to pull it out of thin air. “-That ring to it. Drives the message home on what my role in this place is.”

“No, you’re certainly not Auguste, Mr. Shop-keeper. He seems to be a much nicer fellow.”

The man’s shoulders went rigid and the corners of his lips twitched.

“We can at least agree on this one.”

Damen was expecting for the man to add something, but he didn’t. So, Damen asked:

“And do you have a name, Mr. Shop-keeper?”

“Laurent.”

Damen had nodded. When Laurent didn’t add anything, Damen said: “I’m Damen. What is this place?”

Laurent shrugged, as if his question had been trivial:

“Since we’ve established that I’m a shop-keeper, that would make this a shop. That’s not the real question here. Rather; the question is: why can you see me, or hear me?”

Damen opened his mouth to answer, but Laurent waved a hand in front of his face as if to shake away an unbidden thought. “Nevermind , ” he picked the vial up by the tag and handed it to him. “ That’s why you’re here.”

Damen had kept on toying with the small vial all the way home. He kept upending it, watching the liquid make his way from one side to the other, before he turned it again and everything went back to the way it’d been.

Laurent had promised that whatever he needed, that tiny vial would give it to him.

Damen didn’t know if he believed it himself, but when he’d left the shop, he’d turned around, and the door had been gone. If it vouched for or against the liquid’s effects, Damen didn’t know. Nor did he know what he might have needed. He knew he wanted a lot of things:

To be able to cross that door and feel at home. To leave his jacket on the coat-hanger and not feel like he’d be picking it up in a few hours anyway to leave.

To quit feeling like a guest in his house, to be able to pull out those pictures they’d taken at the beach last summer. In them, he and Jokaste and Nikandros and Kastor, his brother, were laughing, half sprawled on the sand. Damen was leaning backwards. Jokaste was sitting in his lap and Nikandros and Kastor were leaning on them. He’d often tried to take them out of that box, the cardboard of which had gotten wavy from catching rain. But every time he saw his brother’s arm on Jokaste’s shoulder he wondered if they’d already been together, then. His stomach would churn as soon as his fingers opened the flaps of the box, and he wouldn’t manage more than to reach for the frames of those pictures, despite them being turned, their smiling faces facing the bottom of the box,

And although he’d tried to talk himself into throwing the vial away, in the end he’d settled for pocketing it, his every movement through the kitchen accompanied by the clinging of glass against the fake metal button on the inside of his pocket. It sounded nothing like the way his family ring did against the wine bottle when he took it out of the cabinet, or the way the wine glass sounded when he propped it on the crystal surface of the coffee table before letting himself fall on the couch. It was a lighter sound. Like the softest meowing, the sound of a string of honey swinging from left to right.

“You shouldn’t drink it.” A voice in his ear said. “ You’re too trusting. It could be poison, what then?”

It could. But the Shop-Keeper, Laurent, hadn’t struck him as evil. Pissed off, maybe. Irritated. All around unpleasant. Mostly lonely.

“You trust a pretty face too easily. What if I’d turned out to be different?” The voice repeated in his ear, low and persuasive. This time, he recognized it as Jokaste’s. An afterimage of a memory long gone.

For a moment, he stared at the now empty wine bottle, then his attention shifted to the glass which still held droplets in it.

He took a deep breath, then pulled the vial out of his pocket.

“What I really need” he thought, touching the brim of it to his lips, “is to move on.”

He kicked his head back, and the liquid went down his throat.

Damen hadn’t know what to expect.

The first day after drinking the potion - what is a potion? Was it a liquid ? It had tasted faintly like grapes, but that might just have been the wine he’d drunken prior- he’d walked around with the giddiness of the person who knows a surprise is waiting for him, but didn’t know what it was going to be.

He’d gone through his chores at the restaurant with an odd concentration he’d never felt before, waiting for something to change. But nothing did.

He almost took the alley, that evening, then chose to avoid it. First, he’d see how this thing turned out.

The second day, he faced without hope, but with the expectation that eventually, something out of the ordinary would happen.

But a week came and went. On the coldest day in the year, while Damen was crossing the street, he glimpsed in the corner of his eyes someone with the same build and the same hair as him. He jerked around.

It wasn’t Kastor just someone who looked a lot like him, but for the briefest instant Damen had thought he was. And in that second, a pang had gone through his chest, knocking the air out of him, leaving him standing in the middle of the pedestrian crossing, as people passed him on every side. That was the moment Damen knew, whatever that thing was, it hadn’t done anything for him.

That evening, he went looking for the shop. Unsurprisingly, the shop was gone.

He saw the door for the second time as he was walking home. It was exactly where it’d been the previous time, tucked into the wall, pouring light on the frozen concrete.

All around it, the air was still. In the week since it’d appeared the first time, kids had spray-painted a green and yellow tree of life onto the wall, and now it looked as if it was the door itself it grew out of.

Damen reached for the doorknob. It was as cold as it’d been the previous time. Then he turned it, and let himself in.

The shop was more of less the way he remembered it.

The starry non-ceiling was the same, and there were still the cages with the lit bars lighting up the penumbra. It seemed like Laurent had added a series of globes at the feet of the counter, which Damen hadn’t noticed the time before.

Laurent himself, hadn’t changed at all though. He was standing in front of the counter, leaning against it, with his arms crossed and was looking at him with his brows furrowed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked him. Damen shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the one that has this- he waved his hand in front of him in a motion that was meant to encompass the whole of the shop. - thing. And also the one who sold me- although it’s true I didn’t pay for it - that potion. So I guess I shouldn’t be complaining but here I am, because it didn’t do anything.”

Laurent didn’t move, just stared at him. “I believe I haven’t heard you right.”

“How are these things supposed to work?” Damen asked. “Like, are you supposed to feel better right away or-?”

“It depends- The store gives you the means. That’s how Auguste thought it out. If the means to get what you need for you to feel better right away, that’s how you’ll feel.”

Damen snorted. “Well, I can’t be entirely sure it isn’t working, but I’m quite certain it isn’t.”

“That’s not possible,” Laurent said with certainty. “It’s never failed before. That’s not how Auguste thought this out.”

“Listen- as he said so, Laurent brought a hand to his lips in thought. Damen hadn’t noticed the previous time, but they were plump and looked really soft. Quite lovely.

In fact, now that Damen could take a closer look, all of Laurent was quite lovely. From his long legs, to his high cheekbones, to his lean body, back to those lips.

“What’s the point “ Lauren’t s cool voice broke his train of thought “ of starting a sentence with listen, if you’re not going to.” He paused. “Maybe, next time, I’ll start it with ogle. That way it’ll be easier for you to comply, I take it.”

Damen didn’t blush, and neither did he this time. But he grinned, and did his equivalent, which was laughing. “I’m sorry” he said. “I really, really am sorry. It’s just- he cut off for a second - it’s just you’re really quite lovely. I apologize, though. That was rather rude of me.”

Instead of replying, Laurent rolled his eyes, dismissing the compliment with a wave of his hand.

“Let’s say you’re telling the truth” he said, would you be willing to give it another try?”

Damen paused a second. “ Say this works, would it give me what I need?”

“Yes.” Laurent replied. “ It would.”

“Then I’m game.” Damen said.

“You are?” Laurent raised a brow. “ It could take a lot of time, you know? I’ve- something like this has never happened before.”

Damen shrugged. “I don’t mind. If it’ll help me, then I really don’t mind.”

“Suit yourself.” Laurent said, then headed for a cabinet underneath one of the clocks on the wall. Damen hadn’t noticed it before, but there were lots of things he hadn’t noticed before it seemed in this shop. The stars twinkling on Laurent’s suit were one of them.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Now he needs permission. You didn’t need it to undress me with your eyes, I hardly see why you would need it now.”

Again, Damen didn’t blush.

“You seemed rather certain the shop couldn’t be wrong before. Why did you choose to believe me?”

Laurent stopped in his movements, ceasing what he was doing for just the tiniest amount of time. His shoulders stiffened, then relaxed. Then he answered.

“You found the shop again. It doesn’t let itself be found by those who don’t have a need.”

December-January

And so it began. Almost on a weekly basis, Damen would stop at the shop. Every time, he would notice something new about it. Be it the astrolabes that lined the walls, just above the shelves, or the puddle of whatever on the floor. He’d crouched down to stare at it. It looked bottomless, mist rising from it, filling the air with different scents he’d never smelt before.

He’d looked up from that one to see Laurent through the mist, elegantly crouched next to the puddle. He was playing with the liquid, letting his hand disappear just beneath the surface, only to pull it out covered in a metallic sheen that looked like quicksilver.

“Don’t lean forward,” he’d warned Damen, “You might fall in. ”His blue eyes had shined like diamonds through the mist.

February

Every time, Laurent would rustle in the same cabinet and bring out new potions for him to try. Had they been poison, Damen thought, he’d be certainly dead by now. So, he went along with it.

At first, he’d felt more and more defeated every time the door appeared again. Lately, though, he was looking forward to his visits to the shop.

Laurent, on the other hand, was getting increasingly more frustrated every time Damen came back. Somewhere along the way had given up wearing always the same suit, ditching the jacket and the pants, and only keeping the shirt which he exchanged from time to time with dark-blue or black turtlenecks. Those were good days.

Today was one of those days, which led to Damen subtly admiring the way the turtleneck clung to Laurent’s chest, as the man kept pacing down the aisle of the shop, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. He was avoiding the weird things on the floor without even looking.

“I’ve tried everything with you. Everything. I’ve given you what the shop gave me for you, I’ve given you what I thought would help you. And still you keep coming back.”

“ Why do you mind so much?” Damen said, snatching a cookie from the plate that was sitting on the table.

“Don’t you enjoy my company? I actually look forward to yours, you know.”

If looks could kill, Damen would be dead by now. But as they couldn’t - not even in such a weird place - he kept on munching on his cookies.

“ I think” Damen said. “ I think it is getting better, if it makes you feel any better. So it’s not as if it’s completely useless, right?”

Laurent groaned, then threw his hot tea back. Damen was starting to get mildly worried about him.

It lasted just until Laurent cuffed him on the back of his head.

“I’ve done all the research I could. I’ve gone through all of Auguste books, and I haven’t found anything. My place is a mess now, and it’s still not working.”

“Wait- Damen asked – you have a place?”

Laurent didn’t say anything. Just threw back some more tea.

“I- I don’t really know anything about you.” Damen realized.

“That’s how it’s gotta be.”

“ Why?”

“Because once we figure out how to help you, the shop will start moving again.”

Damen never considered that.

“Can it go anywhere? How does it pick who to help?”

Laurent stopped pacing. “I don’t know. It used to be my brother’s, he’s invented it. He made the rules. He-” Laurent had started going through a series of white trunks on the floor “ -He created it for me, back when my parents passed away. At some point I didn’t need it anymore and he changed the settings of it and I don’t know-” he stopped, as his voice had gotten thinner and thinner the more he’d said.

“Is Auguste your brother?”

And Laurent stopped in his movement altogether. “ Yes,” came his answer. “ He is.” Then “He was.” Then again, this time in a more controlled voice “He is.”

Laurent stayed crouched like that. His hands not rummaging anymore, not talking, not speaking. Only rigid. So Damen stood up, went to him and offered him a hand.

“Sir Shop-Keeper” he said. Laurent stared at the hand for a moment, then put his now-empty tea-cup on it and stood up.

“ That’s not what the hand was mean for, you know.”

“ Really? I’m sorry, I must have not realized it.”

Laurent didn’t look his way as he said it, but he smirked. And that made Damen laugh. It wasn’t one of his nervous laughs, nor one of those full-belly, to the tears laugh, but it was a spontaneous laugh nonetheless- it’d been a long time since he’d had a genuine laugh. How long he couldn’t remember.

The act of laughing brought those pictures at the beach to mind and the usual pang went through him. It was sharp, but duller than he was used to, and it passed as soon as he set eyes on Laurent again. He thought back to the pictures, and got an idea.

“Can you go outside?”

It had taken the answering of some questions. ( “People can’t see me inside here because the shop hides me.” “So it didn’t hide you from me? Why?” “Because it’s a douchebag.”)

It had taken a lot of begging, and an agreement.

“I’ll say yes only if you put on the first thing that you’ll find there”. He’d said, pointing to the big white trunk he’d been rummaging in earlier.

So Damen had gone for it. The first thing he’d found in the trunk, he’d put on.

To his chagrin, and Laurent’s amusement, it had been a mask.

Not one of those pretty venetian masks or one of those with an elastic band.

It had been a rubber mask. A horse-head. It’s mane in real fur. When Damen had put it on, the neck of the mask had been long enough to cover his neck and rest on his shoulders.

Why Laurent had something like that lying around in his shop, Damen wondered as he put it on, was anyone’s guess.

He hadn’t indulged too long in those thoughts, though, because through the little holes placed in the horse’s eyeballs, Damen could see Laurent doubling over. At first there was only a low sound that he could barely make out. It grew louder, and louder until Damen recognized it as laughter. Laughter so strong, Laurent tried to suffocate it first with a hand on his mouth, and then by biting his palm.

Neither worked.

Eventually, the laughter subsided. When Damen was allowed to take his mask off, Laurent only patted him on the head. “Good horsey” he’d said. Then started laughing again. The sound had made Damen smile, and something low in his stomach flutter.

As it turned out Laurent had never tried it, they went out for coffee.

It didn’t go exactly as planned: Laurent hated coffee. It was, quote, disgusting, bitter, why would anyone in their sane drink something like this willingly, unquote.

That was the day Damen started storing away small information about Laurent.

February

Laurent liked the color blue.

He was twenty-one years old.

He did live in the shop, in a way. There was a trap door behind the counter that led to his apartment, which seemed to be enchanted as well, but to which Damen hadn’t so far gained access to.

The apartment was enchanted because his brother had been a magician, a warlock? Something like that. Magic was for sure involved.

He liked reading.

He had lots of books.

He had a cat.

He didn’t, to Damen’s knowledge, have any friend despite someone called Nicaise that would visit him from time to time.

He was determined, he was clever. He knew how to make Damen laugh.

He was gorgeous.

He was starting to become a problem.

March

It was starting to become a problem. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten about the pictures in the cardboard boxes and had started stopping more and more at the store.

He’d started bringing Laurent small gifts. Cookies to have with his tea, coffee - it had turned out he liked it, after all, with lots of sugar -.

He hadn’t thought, not even for a minute, that it might have been too much when he’d gotten the box of chocolates. Not when the clerk at the store had asked him if he wanted it wrapped, or when a colleague had asked who the lucky lady was. It had just come so natural to him, that he hadn’t realized, until he’d handed the chocolates with a huge golden bow on them to Laurent, and Laurent had lifted a brow at him, that somewhere along the way, he’d started turning friendship into courtship.

Laurent had accepted the chocolates all the same, “It’s very kind” he’d said, putting emphasis on the kind.

And Damen had felt like he was teetering on the edge. One step away from falling. He could still back out. He could still backtrack. They could still go back to that delicate friendship they’d grown comfortable with over the past few months.

He could joke about it, say it was nothing, and they’d go back to how things were before this very moment.

Damen was still thinking it over as a lock of hair that Laurent had tucked behind his ear got lose and fell in front of his face, catching on his lips.

They’d always been gorgeous lips. Somehow, in the last months, he’d gone from admiring them like you’d admire a model on a magazine, to wanting to kiss them.

Wanting to feel them give under his own. Again and again, he’d asked himself how much he’d have to suck on the pale skin of Laurent’s throat to make a love-bite form on it. And now, in this moment, he asked himself what it would be like to hold Laurent’s hand, to make him laugh, to bring him out to dinner and to see him in the kind of soft, post love-making clothing only lovers get to see each-other in.

So, instead of joking, back-tracking, Damen took one of Laurent’s fine-boned hands in his, and kissed the back of it. “Anytime” he said. Laurent blushed, and that was the moment Damen felt something settle inside.

Something settled under his feet, too. A sound, like a cog turning and locking in place echoed around the shop, and Laurent’s eyes narrowed.

“You better not let me down,” he said, looking Damen straight in the eye. “You better not let me down.”

April

Dating, Jokaste had once told him, was like getting to know someone all over again.

They’d known each-other for a fairly long time, and still it seemed to him as if he hadn’t know her well enough, because if there’s one thing he’d never expected from her, it had been unfaithfulness. He had loved her, and he knew she had loved him.

But she had moved on, and as he stared at Laurent sitting in front of him, looking far too real to have come out of a magical shop, he realized he had, too.

“You know” Laurent started. “ I think you may be more trouble than you’re worth, Damen.”

Damen reached for Laurent’s hand on the table. “I think I’m just enough trouble. No more than needed.”

Laurent smiled, leaned back.

“I’ve seen the world with that shop. Some of those globes in there? They don’t show this earth, they don’t show this world. Why would you be worth staying?”

Damen grinned, slowly closing his fingers around Laurent’s.

“ I don’t know" Damen said. “ But you do. If you didn’t think it’d be worth, then you wouldn’t be here. So, would you mind answering that question for me?”

Laurent shook his head, his fingers running along Damen’s.

The booth Damen had gotten them was on the smaller, more private side. Admittedly a bit too tiny for Damen himself. But it gave the illusion of it being them and nobody else well enough, so Damen didn’t mind.

“ I was under the impression the shop moved of its own volition.” Damen said

Laurent shook his head. “In a way.” Then he kept talking.

“ Auguste.” He took a deep breath “ He never actually changed the settings. My needs,” Laurent’s voice was getting lower, his feet caressing Damen’s shin slowly. “ come before anything else.”

“ Really?” Damen smiled at him. He leaned forward, bringing himself as close to Laurent as the table between them allowed him to.

“ And what would those be?”

Laurent brought his thumb to his lips, in the way he did when he was thoughtful enough to forget himself. “ I need someone determined. I need someone who’ll come for five months straight to the same shop on the off chance that something will change. Do you happen to know someone like that?”

Laurent smirked, his foot still moving up and down Damen’s shin.

“ I may" Damen said “ but how is he going to find you?”

Laurent leaned forward, his hands finding the lapels of Damen’s jacket and pulling him towards him, half sprawling him over the table.

“As long as he needs me, he won’t ever have any trouble.”

Then Laurent kissed him. And his lips were both as soft as Damen had imagined, and nowhere as pliant.

And somehow, he thought, they tasted like magic.

#capriss2k17 #captive prince fanfiction #captive prince #laurent x damen

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britesparc · 4 years

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Weekend Top Ten #465

Top Ten Games I’d Like to See on Game Pass in 2021

After a few weeks of earnest thinking and tyring to be creative, I’ve lapsed back into a wishlist this week. I used to do a lot more of these – films I’d like to come to Prime Video, games I’d like to see on Windows Phone, that sort of thing – so regular readers should be thankful that I’ve branched out more as time’s gone on.

In a way today’s list is another chance to review my big Christmas purchase, the Xbox Series X. Through a combination of presents and canny offers I was able to get, alongside the console, a year’s subscription to Game Pass Ultimate. Game Pass has been called Microsoft’s “real next-gen console”, in that they are very clearly positioning the future of their games business around it. And it is a very, very tantalising offer: dozens if not hundreds of games available at the touch of a button, playable on console, PC, and – via streaming – mobile phones. I had Game Pass once before, last year, and it was great; I chose not to keep up the sub because £11 a month (or even £8 for the most basic service) is still quite expensive when you’ve got large games that you own outright sitting there unplayed or uncompleted. But last time around the “xCloud” streaming service was still in closed beta, so it’s nice to see it rolled out more officially now. The interface is better and it seems to run a bit better, and games that support touch controls on a phone certainly perform better. I’ve found it a great way to play Slay the Spire, for instance; a turn-based card game is quite forgiving if you momentarily lose connection or the visuals start artifacting or something. Anyway, it’s great; the whole service is great. I love the fact that you get frequent (if very slight) rewards just for using it. It’s a great incentive to come back regularly or try new games. I wouldn’t have played something like The Medium or Ori and the Will of the Wisps without Game Pass; and allows me to play something like Planet Coaster or Crackdown 3, that I enjoy dipping in and out of, but probably wouldn’t buy at the moment. And for the kids, it’s great; Disneyland Adventure is a really fun game for the nippers. Although they mostly just play Minecraft.

But of course like Alexander Hamilton I’ve never been satisfied, and in that grand old tradition of doing wish lists, this week’s list is just the games that I’d like to see on the service. That’s it! Nothing complicated about it. just ten (or, well, kinda more actually) games that I think should be on Game Pass. Now, I’ve tried to be realistic about this; so I’ve not added games that aren’t actually out on the Xbox yet, such as Fall Guys (which I really hope will be on Game Pass). Ditto games that have just come out; you’ll see Assassin’s Creed down there somewhere, but not Valhalla, as that’s, I dunno, less likely right now? Same with Hitman 3; I really want to play that, it looks excellent, but I’m not expecting it to turn up on Game Pass anytime soon, coz it’s just come out and been a really big hit. There’s a slight exception to this rule though, as you’ll see.

So there we go: if anyone from Xbox is listening, here are the ten games I’d most like to see on Game Pass, if you please. Oh, and everything is meant to be on the Xbox unless otherwise stated.

Civilization VI (2019): and its assorted expansions please! Civ is my absolute must-play always-on go-to game on PC, and from what I’ve played of the console conversion, it’s a very good adaptation. Last year I was on the xCloud beta and Civ VI was one of the games you could stream; but oddly it’s never, to my knowledge, appeared on Game Pass proper. With Quick Resume, dipping in and out of a session would be even easier (and good god damn it takes a long time to load on my PC). Bonus: this works pretty well on mobile, although it can be hard to read the text on a phone screen.

Assassin’s Creed Origins and/or Odyssey (2017/2018): I’ve never really gotten into an Ass Creed game, so it’d be nice to experience one of the newer ones, but that’s not the real reason I want these on the service (besides, the one I really want to play is Valhalla, coz Vikings innit). Last year Ubisoft offered the “Discovery Tour” modes of both these games up for free on PC; my kids ate them up. They loved exploring ancient Egypt and Greece, and it tied into their studies at school. To free up my PC and because they’d look a lot nicer, I’d love them to be on the Xbox, too.

Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1+2 (2020): I guess Skate or something is on Game Pass through EA Play, so I could scratch my board itch if I wanted, but it’s not quite the same. I want that nostalgia blast of Tony Hawk action. We used to play this on my girlfriend’s (now wife’s) computer, although I must confess I’ve utterly forgotten all the controls. Regardless, it’s a good fun party game and feels perfect for the service. This update in particular looks really worthwhile, with nice graphics but – hopefully – the same excellent gameplay. Dunno if Spider-Man is still in it, mind.

Minecraft (2011): now, yeah, I’m pretty sure Minecraft is actually on Game Pass on the Xbox; and, indeed, we own it. Whilst I feel that Minecraft is now so ubiquitous and has its own ecosystem that maybe it could become free-to-play, I definitely think that the PC version of Minecraft should fall under Game Pass for PC. Although I’m not sure that would really help my kids, as they’d need to be signed into my Game Pass account to play, wouldn’t they? See, MS needs some kind of family account thing going on.

Hades (2020): another PC games! Yeah, I quite fancy Hades. I remember playing the first Diablo, sometime very shortly after the actual fall of Satan, and liking it. Hades has got a lot of good reviews and all the nice people seem to be saying all the nice things about it. So I’d like to try it out, but I know, deep down inside, that I’ll just keep going back to playing Fallen Order and Gears 5 (or Civ on PC), so it’s not really worth buying. But if they added it to Game Pass on PC? Yes please.

Control Ultimate Edition (2021): ah, is this adding a brand new game? Depends on your definition. I really like the look of Control (2019). It looks like the sort of game I’d enjoy playing. And, yes, Control is technically on Game Pass. But with the super-shiny next-gen version imminent (with sexy ray-tracing!) then that’s the version I want to play. Not the filthy old degenerated version that can run on my old Xbox One. There’s a lot of justifiable controversy about the release structure of Control on next-gen, but given how pretty much all Xbox One games on Game Pass automatically give you their Series X/S versions through Smart Delivery, Control really stands out. As Ultimate Edition is on PlayStation Plus, I feel like a Game Pass version should come through sharpish.

Lego Marvel Super Heroes (2013): this is arguably the first of my “just being lazy” picks, and really it could stand in for a few different titles. We love the Lego games in this house, and our favourites (that is, mine and my kids’) probably remains Marvel Super Heroes and its 2017 sequel. Seeing as quite a lot of Xbox 360-era Lego games are on the service, it’d be really cool to add some of the newer ones, what with the excellent-sounding Skywalker Saga imminent. I mean, the first Marvel Super Heroes was an Xbox One launch title; they’re not exactly “new”. We own these, along with several more, but it’d be so nice to be able to hop in and out quickly without having to root around for a disc. And y’know, if they wanted to add the Lego Movie adaptations, or DC Super Villains, then why the heck not?

Cuphead (2017): I really want to play this! It looks amazing. I just want to experience that, y’know? Except here’s the problem: I know I would utterly suck at this. I’m pretty rubbish at platform games in general, and 2D shooters I’m even worse at. I’ve heard this game is quite hard. I am not good at hard games. And especially nowadays, when I only have time to breeze through stuff on super-easy (I have come to terms with playing games in “Story Mode”). So I just don’t think there’s any point in my buying it. But on Game Pass? Instant download.

Marvel’s Avengers (2020): is this “new”? I dunno anymore. Regardless, it feels like it’s had its moment, so coming to Game Pass wouldn’t be too outrageous. I’m gonna be honest, I’ve never felt like this looked particularly good, but then I hear people say how it’s a decent third-person action game where you play as Ms Marvel, and that sounds pretty cool. Maybe divorced of the hype and the unrealistic expectations there’s a fun no-frills game to be found. I’d love to discover it on Game Pass.

Star Wars: Squadrons (2020) or Cyberpunk 2077 (2020): now this is where we really get into lazy territory. I got both of these games for Christmas (and, obviously, they’re both new), and I really like them both (Cyberpunk runs really well on Series X). However, I got them both on disc; Cyberpunk specifically I wanted on disc to get the gubbins such as a map of Night City (I’m a sucker for stuff like that). And I think – yeah this sounds terrible – having to get up and get the box out and put the disc in is actually an impediment to my playing them. Sometimes I’m sat there and I think, shall I play Cyberpunk? And I realise I’d have to move, and I think, nah, I’ll just play Red Dead or Fallen Order or Witcher or Gears Tactics or Forza or Halo or Planet Coaster or Ori or Medium or Slay the Spire or Full Throttle or Crackdown or Two Point Hospital or Minecraft Dungeons or Perfect Dark or Doom or… you get the picture. I know I’m going to hell, don’t worry.

Anyway, there we are! Good games? Good games. Cheers in advance, Microsoft.

#top ten #xbox #games #game pass #ea play #microwave #retro gaming

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bethlehembroclub-blog · 7 years

Text

chapter 3 - everyone’s dancing merrily

written by @sweatereddies and @gingerbreddie

word count: 5.3k

pairings: reddie, stenbrough, benverly

warnings: swearing, drug/alcohol use, dwayne the rock johnson in a santa suit

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“Come on you guys, we’re gonna be late!” Ben called up the stairs, as he adjusted his watch clasp.

“I’m trying, Eddie’s hogging the bathroom!” Stan yelled back. He heard the faint sound of Eddie’s quipped protests and rolled his eyes.

“I’m leaving in five minutes!” He responded, walking into the kitchen to grab the case of beer they had bought. Bev hadn’t said it was specifically a BYOB party, but Ben felt bad bringing four people and no booze.

Stan came tumbling down the stairs. “Fuck it, do I look okay?” He gestured down at his outfit, a rather complimentary blue shirt and his nicer jeans.

“Yeah, you look fine.” Ben said after a cursory glance. His brow furrowed, looking back at Stan. “Why? You never care.”

Stan looked around, clearly planning an excuse. “I don’t know, okay? I just wanted to…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben smiled. “You don’t have to make shit up. I know you wanna impress someone. Question is, who’s gonna be there that you care so much about?” Ben said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Stan’s face flushed. “No one, Haystack.”

“Alright, fine, I won’t press.” He threw his hands up. “But whoever it is does need my official Bro Approval, so tell me soon, yeah?”

Stan laughed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Guys, have you seen my inhaler?” Eddie said, leaning over the landing on the stairs.

“You don’t have asthma, Eddie.” Stan deadpanned.

“Fuck you Uris, I’ve got something, I need it.”

“You haven’t needed it since seventh grade.” Ben said plainly. “Are you that nervous?”

Eddie fumbled with the hem of his shirt, glancing between the two boys. “Um..”

“You’ll feel a lot better once you have one of these in you.” Ben smirked, tearing open the box of beer and tossing a can to Eddie, who surprisingly caught it. “But seriously, if you don’t want to stay you don’t have to. They’re our neighbors, you can go home.”

Eddie eyed the can in his hands. “I don’t want to be too scared to go to a fucking dumb party.” Eddie muttered quietly.

“Then show up and smash the thing, man. Let loose, you deserve it.” Stan said.

Eddie cracked the tab on the beer, taking a swig. “I’ll go.” He said after he swallowed. “But I don’t know if I’ll have fun.”

“I think you will.” Ben supplied. “Like I said, Mike Hanlon knows how to throw a fucking party.”

Eddie sighed, taking another deep drink. “Jesus Christ.” He cringed at the taste. “Okay. Well the only way I’m gonna have an even mildly good time is if I have at least half this damn case to myself.”

“Done.” Ben laughed. “But that means you have to carry it over.”

Eddie finished the last few steps of the stairs and the last of the liquid in the can. He tossed it in their recycling as he passed it, and then lifted the case up. “Let’s go, then?”

______________________________________________________________

After locking up behind them (the three were the only ones left in the house after Chris had left that morning) the boys set off down the street, Eddie carting the case of beer under his arm. He huffed a bit under the weight of it, but kept thinking to himself about how light it would be once he's done with it.

Even from their vantage point, a good few houses away, they could hear the pounding music. It sounded like someone had put a Christmas song through some kind of alien machine, making it come out garbled and remixed in classic electronica fashion. Eddie scrunched up his nose; he hated nothing more than a shitty remix.

Stan kept his hands in his pockets, the crisp late November air nipping at his fingertips. He was grateful for the short walk.

The house in question looked like his store threw up on it. He even recognized the the giant light fixture of the leg lamp from A Christmas Story from when he’d seen it on their website earlier. He snorted at the sight, rolling his eyes at the tackiness of the entire yard. They'd certainly gone all out on the decorations; icicle lights hung loosely from the roof, where an old couch was perched, a fake santa with a beer in his hand balanced haphazardly on it. The yard was already littered with loose cans and cups, though Stan had a suspicion that they were already there before the party.

“Is- is that a couch?” Eddie faked a wretch, eyes laid skeptically on the santa.

“I do believe it is.” Ben said with a laugh. He found the whole display quite clever.

“I'm having second thoughts.”

“Don't think.” Stan said, stealing a can of beer from the box clutched in Eddie’s arms. “Drink.” Stan opened it and took a swig.

“I hate when you're right.” Eddie griped, reaching into the box for another can as they climbed the steps to the door.

Ben grabbed the handle and pushed it open, revealing an entryway stuffed with discarded outerwear. Beyond the room there was a hallway already filled with people milling around, and openings on either side to continue on into the house. Eddie swallowed nervously.

Ben glanced down at his phone as it buzzed in his hands. A text from Beverly read: hey, im here, where are u?

“I'm gonna go find Bev and grab some real drinks, wanna come with?” Ben said to the boys.

“No way. I’m staying right here.” Eddie said nervously, holding the case close to his chest. “I don't wanna get lost in there.”

“Fine, I'll be right back.” Ben rolled his eyes and left into the swarm of the house. Stan made to follow him but was stopped by Eddie’s arm.

“Don't leave me here.” Eddie squeaked, giving Stan a pleading look.

Stan rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Eddie, I’m not gonna hang around in the doorway all night. Unlike you I came here to have fun.”

Eddie gulped. “Fine.” He said after a pause. “But I’m parking on the first couch we see.”

Stan smiled and dragged Eddie off to the right, the opposite of where Ben had gone.

______________________________________________________________

Richie Tozier was not having a good night. Sure the party had started out as planned; all the decorations had gone up the way they wanted them to, and everything was in its place. Booze was flowing, people were partying, and by all intents and purposes, accounts and definitions, they had the best holiday party on the block. But every bit of it was unsatisfying. They’d already prepared for Christmas, decked in every single bit of tinsel they could possibly get their grimy paws on. They were ready to start the first weekend of the holidays with a bang proclaiming to everyone in the community that they were there to play this year. A preliminary to their holiday bash, they took special care in setting up excitement for future drinking games. They had posters with the rules written on them hastily tacked up on the walls so people could read them, become familiar with them, and laugh egregiously at them before the destined date. But as Richie passed them walking through the house, red solo cup in hand, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disdain. What fun was a good drinking game if you didn’t have someone special to share it with? He knew he was being sappy; it was a ridiculous thought. But it was important to him to start really expanding his friend base. He’d been so close with Mike and Bill for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to branch out beyond that. All of his other relationships were incredibly superficial. Almost anyone in his life was there because of a connection, or for business purposes. He found himself longing for companionship, for the first time in a long time, and it kind of freaked him out. He wasn’t looking for love, at least he thought he wasn’t, until earlier that day he’d gone out with Mike and Bill to grab supplies, and ran into the beautiful boy from across the way. It was frightening though, because he’d realized he’d put his foot in his mouth and overly flirted the first time he’d seen the boy. He did call Richie an asshole first, though.

Richie knew that his chances with the boy were probably slim. But he was supposed to be at the party, and maybe that was why Richie was feeling so listless. He’d seen nothing of Ben Hanscom, or curly haired Stan, or the beautiful brunette he’d been so excited to see tonight, and that was really the reason for the sinking pit in his stomach. He’d gotten his hopes up way too much that morning, out buying decorations and filling up the back of Mike’s truck with the boys. He’d been thinking all day about the look on Eddie’s face when he saw their tacky santa on the roof, or his particular favorite of the drinking games, one themed after Spider-man. He then realized he was unsure of what Eddie’s reaction would even be. How could he possibly gauge what the boy would say in response to their tacky christmas decorations? Eddie has been displeased with his terrible James Bond reference, and probably wouldn't enjoy the many allusions to Tom Holland’s voice cracks in the aforementioned game. But part of him hoped that Eddie secretly had a side to him that would enjoy these sillier things. He’d heard through the grapevine, aka Mike and Ben, that Eddie really had a fun side to him, especially when he was drunk, which was why Richie was so excited to see him at the party. He wanted to see that side of Eddie set loose. But how could he do that if Eddie wasn't there? These thoughts swirled around him as he sat on the couch in between Mike and Bill, who were chatting with some of their friends as they set up a game of beer pong for the night. Richie clutched his cup in his hand and rested his head on his chin, boredly gazing around the room, waiting for more people to walk in. Bill elbowed his side and spoke.

“W-Whats got you so down, T-Tozier? We worked so f-fucking hard on tonight, w-w-why are you not c-celebrating with the rest of u-us?”

“I don’t know Billiam, I guess I’m just in a bad mood.”

“A bad m-mood? It’s our e-e-end of the year party, you s-should be ecstatic, no more fucking ho-homework!”

“I know, I know, I'm really excited about that and I wanna party tonight but.. I was hoping the little germaphobe would show up.”

Bill laughed, looking to Mike for assistance, but he was deep in conversation with the boys setting up the table. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Richie.

“O-Of course you are. But look, he s-said he said he w-w-was coming with Stan and Ben so j-just be patient and wait for him to show up. G-Get a few drinks in you, you’ll start feeling more excited about the whole thing.”

“Alright alright, I’ll loosen up.”

Richie stood, downing his drink in one go, preparing himself to cross over into the kitchen to grab more. But after he turned his gaze up from the empty cup in his hands, he saw none other than Eddie Kaspbrak himself walking into the living room from the entryway, Stan Uris and his curly hair by his side, a sixteen pack of beer under his right arm. One of the cans was clutched in his hand. Richie could practically see his white knuckle grip on the thing. Eddie was glancing around the room nervously, looking at the decorations, the people, the beer pong table; Stan was smiling abstractly and taking it all in, a beer in his hand as well, already open and much more loosely gripped.

Richie broke out into a grin. This was the time of night that he was really looking forward to.

______________________________________________________________

“Hey there handsome, finally decided to show up!” Bev’s singsong voice called to Ben as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey there Bevie. Finally got Eddie to get out of that house, he’s been fussing forever.”

Bev laughed, passing a cup to Ben. It was clearly a drink she’d just poured for herself, but she offered it to him anyways. “Go figure, I thought he was gonna take all night to get the courage. But you did get him here?”

Ben took a small drink of the cup she’d just supplied. “In the flesh.” He let out with a laugh.

“Good, then let’s get him ready.” She went to pour another drink.

“He’s already got his beers for the night, I think he’ll be fine in a little while. But Stan’ll probably want something.” Ben supplied

“Sounds good to me.” Bev called over her shoulder as she began to mix Stan a drink, and then a follow up one for herself.

“So is this party everything I hoped it’d be? Ben said leaning against the counter where she worked, cup in hand, taking another small sip.

“Its shaping up to be,” She smiled. “I think they're holding back just a little bit because they wanna save us all the big shit for Christmas, but as far as end of term parties go, it’s the only one on the market and it sure as hell doesn’t suck.” She smiled, taking a large sip of the drink she just mixed for herself, grimacing a little bit as it went down.

“Any plans for the evening, or is it just a mixer?”

“Well I know somebody's setting up beer pong right now, and I think we might have a tournament going on, but other than that, I think just a quick few samples of the drinking games that are planned for the bashes coming up.”

“Yeah, I saw the posters.” Ben laughed

“Apparently the boys are trying to get the buzz around and tell people to prepare themselves for ones they have planned. I heard they're gonna do sort of uh.. Run up style parties, every other day over the break.”

“Holy shit, that’s ambitious.” Ben said after taking another drink.

Bev smirked behind her cup. “You're telling me.”

The two drank a little bit in awkward silence before Ben decided to speak up. “I'm gonna go take Stan his drink, okay?”

Bev gave him a strange look, before reaching down to interlock her fingers with his. “I'll come with you. We’re at this party together, right?”

He smiled to himself, a small blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

______________________________________________________________

Stan had never been one to understand Christmas traditions. The whole holiday was incredibly pointless to him. Being of a rather devout Jewish family, he’d always celebrated Hanukkah and followed their traditions, leaving Christmas to the crazies at the country club. But after working a couple years in retail and attending enough Christmas parties, he was aware enough of the holiday-esque things that many associated with the season. He knew about the tinsel, he knew about the lights, he knew about the trees, although none of it made any fucking sense, he knew about it. Just like anyone who grew up in anglo saxon America he could look at any Christmas item and think ah yes, that is in fact related to the holidays. What he couldn't fathom however was what a giant cardboard cutout of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson in a santa outfit had anything to do with Christmas (other than the red and white suit of course). Yet here it was, in the corner of the living room that he had just walked into, surrounded by its own strings of christmas lights, tinsel strewn around it and the floor in front of it, appearing as though it at just been thrown at the poster itself. He chuckled to himself a little bit; he had to admit the decorations were pretty hilarious, and anyone who was drunk of their ass and looking for a laugh at two in the morning would find them quite entertaining. But as far as a party went? This was what qualified for the best party in all of college town? Stan scoffed. He knew how to throw a fucking party. It wasn't just about getting drunk, though he had been prompting Eddie all day that it was. He knew better. Parties weren't just about drinking. Drinking was the cherry on top. Ambiance was what you had to go for. Put together decorations, that actually took effort, and looked nice when you were finished with them, incredibly clever and well thought out games, different activities for everybody to do while they were drunk, now that was how you threw a party. And this living room where half the patrons were milling around or sitting and waiting for the beer pong table to be set up, Stan knew this was not anywhere close to a satisfactory party. His own self sense of pride inflated him, and he took another drink of the beer before his eyes landed on Richie Tozier, and his two friends from earlier, who were gathered on the couch as the table was being set up.

Richie was staring at Stan and Eddie like they’d just brought the sun. A huge smile was painted across his face, the empty cup he was holding falling from his hand as he eyed them. Stan knew the smile wasn't for him; he could tell from their interaction earlier that day that Richie had become instantly infatuated with Eddie, something which he thought was endlessly hilarious; way funnier than the cardboard cut out of The Rock in the corner. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to gauge Eddie's reaction and was not disappointed. The poor boy looked like he’d short circuited. Clearly Eddie was planning on avoiding Richie as much as possible at the party, and the first person he ran into was none other than the boy himself. Stan laughed a little at the situation, until he noticed Richie's brooding friend emerging from the couch to come join them as well. He took a moment to size up the boy again to get a better grasp on him than what he had from their interaction earlier. He still thought the boy reminded him of a vampire. He was absurdly pale and seemed to look like he never got any sleep, probably from all the partying. Contrary to his appearance in the harsh light of day, under the soft multi color glow of the Christmas lights his face held a sort of gentle kindness to it. Stan found himself a little bit mesmerized taking in the sight. As the boy walked over to them, he could hear Eddie's faint stammering as his brain tried to catch up with his eyes, but he offered no assistance to the conversation, instead deciding to pretend like he was studying a poster on the walls over the shoulder of the boy who'd introduced himself as.. Will? He couldn't remember. Richie broke the silence first.

“There you are pretty boy, I was hoping you would show up!” He threw his arms out and made an awkward gesture, as if he was going to hug Eddie, and then seemingly remembered that the boy abhorred strangers touch. Eddie groaned and turned to Stan.

“You know what Stan, actually, I just remembered that I left the oven on, so I need to go home right now immediately.” Stan threw Eddie into a headlock.

“Fat chance, Kaspbrak, you’re in for the night.” The smaller of the two boys across from them laughed..

“Whatta good f-friend you are, Stan.”

Stan laughed a little bit to himself. “If Ben's gonna be running off all night with Beverly, I need my party buddy here too. So Eddie is not allowed to go home.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Sorry Stan, but I'm gonna have to officially claim him as my party buddy. See, I threw this whole shindig here for Mr. Kaspbrak.” He cocked an elbow, resting a hand on his hip.

Eddie blanched. “You did what?”

Richie and Bill both laughed. “N-No you fucking d-didn't Tozier, don't be a shit.”

“You can't prove anything Billiam.” Richie said through his giggle. “Anyways Eddie, I'd really like to spend some quality time with you.” He wiggled an eyebrow.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’d like to spend some quality time with your couch, which is where you will find me the remainder of the evening.” With that he pushed his way through the two boys in front of him, entire case of beer still in his hands, and sat down on the corner of the couch that Richie and Bill had just vacated. He sat with the whole case in his lap, it practically dwarfing him, and his single unopened beer can still in his hands. He took a moment to look down at it, almost ceremoniously, before cracking it open and drinking the whole thing in one fell swoop. Richie watched him in awe, jaw dropping slightly open.

“Holy shit.” he whispered to himself. Bill clapped him on the back.

“You pick em fine, Tozier.” He laughed before turning to Stan. “C’mon Uris, I'll t-take you to the kitchen a-and show you the lineup we’ve got for tonight.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, so I see all of the effort today went to the booze selection.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot up in response. “E-Excuse me? All o-o-of the effort?”

Stan laughed to himself. “Yeah, I mean it's not like you guys went hard on decorations or anything.”

Richie had already left them behind to go pester Eddie on the couch, leaving Bill without a paddle. He glared at Stan a little bit. “I-I’ll have you know it took us a-a good hour and a-a-a half to get s-santa on the roof, couch a-and everything.”

Stan snorted. “If you ask me it's an hour and a half you could've spent working a little bit harder on the inside of the house. But that's just my opinion.” He shrugged a shoulder and turned towards the kitchen, Bill following.

“Our decorations are lit, Uris. Y-You're just jealous cause you're n-not having a p-p-party at your frat.”

Stan laughed as the boy followed him. “Oh trust me, I am glad this is not happening at my house. The cleanup? Can you imagine?”

Bill crossed his arms as they reached the counter, Stan surveying it to find a drink.

“I can i-imagine, I clean up after every p-party we have here.”

“Well by the looks of the cups on the lawn you didn't do a very good job last time.”

Bill gasped slightly, offended. “T-Those were there when you g-got here cause the p-p-party already started!”

Stan laughed as he poured himself a rum and coke. “Yeah, and they were also there when we ran into you this morning outside. So, try again. Bill was, it?” He said over his cup, turning around to lean against the counter as he took a sip of his drink. Bill's face was flushed red, his competitive side clearly coming out, uninhibited by his usual social graces as he was already a good few drinks in.

“Is that a challenge, Uris?”

Stan shrugged again. “I wouldn't know.”

Bill frowned, taking a moment to think over the statement. It was a little bit too advanced for his drunk brain to handle.

“Stan, there you are!” Ben said, rounding a corner from the other way into the kitchen. “We were just looking for you, Bev made you a drink.”

“Oh sweet, thanks, I’ll have it after I finish this one.” Stan said genially, turning to Ben and Bev who had just entered the room.

“Bill, hey, what's up?” Bev called to the other boy, who was still standing with his face red and his arms crossed.

“Hi Bev.” He muttered, perturbed.

“Not having a good time at your own party?” Bev tried, jokingly, but clearly Bill wasn't in the mood. He just continued staring at Stan, who was busy filling Ben in on what had just went down with Eddie and Richie. Ben was laughing, Bev was watching him laugh, Stan was laughing, Bill was watching him laugh, and the whole thing was too much for Denbrough. He took a second to pour himself a drink before exiting the room.

______________________________________________________________

After about two minutes of being met with nothing but short one word answers to all of his questions, Richie grew a little bit bored of pestering Eddie. He knew he needed another drink, and Eddie had swatted his hand away when he tried to steal one of the beers. So he decided to give it a moment and go get another margarita. Sighing to himself, he went into the kitchen, which was thankfully empty. He poured himself something strong. He downed the whole thing, and then poured another. This he would sip on the couch with Eddie, hopefully at some point having some kind of real conversation. He couldn't figure out quite why it was that Eddie so desperately disliked him. But he had a feeling that the negative behavior was mostly coming from the fact that Eddie didn't look look like a party boy. He seemed to be thoroughly not enjoying himself, the sweaty bodies and spilled drinks all around him, the general messiness of Richie's house (which he could admit was worse than he would have liked). All of it was probably too much for a guy who wouldn't even wanna shake hands with someone. He figured that the more beers Eddie got down, (who seemed to be drinking them out of sheer nervousness, with no thought for how many he'd gone through already) that he would be more loose and willing to at least initiate conversation. Richie knew somewhere deep in the back of his mind that he was definitely looking for a hookup. He hadn't had a good fuck in months, and Eddie was beautiful. But he also knew that unless physical contact was initiated but the other boy he wouldn't even try with it. What he really wanted to break tonight was their barrier just as people. He wanted to at least get them onto a friend basis so he could continue to see the boy and talk to him. But this wouldn't happen if Eddie completely refused to carry a conversation. So his goal was clear; get Eddie drunk and get him to talk. With this in mind he went back into the living room. Eddie meanwhile had sat on the couch, praying and begging that Richie would get dragged off by someone who wanted to play some stupid drinking game with him. He started in on his third beer, silently hoping to himself that Richie would just leave him alone. Mike Hanlon was still in the room, beer pong game finally set up, and was currently refereeing for the two boys who were facing off. Eddie watched him absentmindedly in between drinks. Mike seemed like a nice enough guy; he had Ben’s approval and really didn't act too much like he was hot shit. Eddie could see having a good relationship with him, friendship wise, of course. But he didn't really know where else they'd run into each other rather than party scenes. Perhaps they could invite the other three frat boys over to their friendsgiving. The fleeting thought surprised Eddie; he wasn't usually one to try and reach out to new people. He’d had too many instances of getting scorned by someone who turned out to be just looking for a quick hookup or totally uninterested in any kind of friendship relationship. He was content with the friends that he had, and he knew that if he made any more it would be because they came into their friend group, not vise versa. Although he had a sneaking suspicion, and fear, that that was what was occurring as the minutes grew on. He knew for a fact that Ben was enjoying himself, and he knew Stan was gonna have a great night, which only meant one thing. His friends were getting sucked in, and they were going to very much continue going to the dumb Omega Nu parties, which meant Eddie would be constantly dragged along with them. He sighed, finishing off his can. It was gonna be a long night for sure. Just as he was sitting and steeping in his despondence, Richie came back over to him.

“Didn’t miss me too much, didya Eddie?” Richie joked as he settled in next to him, a little too close for Eddie’s taste but at this point he was really getting tired of trying to push the boy away.

“Not even a little bit.” He griped, cracking open his fourth can.

Richie laughed at him. “Jesus Eds, planning on drinking that whole thing yourself tonight?”

Eddie gave him a side-eyed look. Did this fucker just give me a nickname? A really shitty one at that?

“My name isn’t fucking Eds.”

“I'll take that as a yes.” Richie laughed to himself. He took a moment to take a drink out of his cup as well. Eddie pondered for a bit about what was in it, but decided it was better not to know. He was just fine with beer and he didn’t wanna fuck with anything stronger. Richie suddenly seemed to loosen up a little bit, but not in a way of relaxation, but rather kind of the opposite. It was like he was untightening the reigns that he had on his casual appearance.

“.. I know we started off on the wrong foot, but I’m really not as big of an asshole as I’m coming across.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Really. I’m having a difficult time believing that.”

“I’m serious! If you’d just take some time to get to know me, I’m sure you’d actually start to like me.” He smirked.

Eddie blanched a little bit at his forwardness. Unsure of what to say, he just closed his mouth and let Richie continue speaking.

“Unless you’d rather sit here by yourself moping around all night, while all your friends are off having fun.”

Eddie looked between the boy with the glasses and the beer can in his hand, taking a moment to mull over his decisions.

“Well, suit yourself then.” Richie got up as if to leave.

He supplied his thoughts with another wash of beer.

“You know what? Fine.”

Eddie knew one thing; he wasn’t fucking drunk enough for this.

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The porch light was still flickering, Bev noticed. She’d been here about two months ago for a party and came outside for a smoke and realized that their back porch light was probably in the process of going out. Every once in awhile it would flicker, signaling that it was running low on energy. She stared at it now absentmindedly as she quickly smoked her cigarette, trying to get it out of the way for the evening. She knew she could survive on one, especially if she was drinking, but it had been a few hours since her last one and she was getting a little antsy. Ben and Stan kindly agreed to go outside with her, though stood a little ways apart and upwind. The three of them carried on small talk well enough; she felt comfortable with the two boys and a little buzz going. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Stan kept making cracks about the decor, Ben continuing to make jokes with him about Eddie's experiences inside, and all three of them were having a great time discussing a terrible professor they shared their freshman year. It was shaping up to be a great evening, and Bev was truly enjoying herself.

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authors notes: the drinking game mentioned? take a shot every time tom’s voice cracks in spiderman homecoming. try it. i dare u.

tagslist: @ayyyymichele @megelizabethvh @flickerflies @beepbeep-losers @tapetayloe @gazeboseddie @finnwollfhards @lemonadeandrice @i-is-gazebo @turtleneckrichie @reddieaddict @liznielsen19

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 7 years

Text

Complementary (Collins x OC) Chapter 23: Memory

Summary: It only took over four years for the first date to take place.

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He was so beautiful, even when he was snoring and mumbling about telling something. Careful not to wake the sleeping Jack beside her, Genevieve sat herself up and rotated her shoulder. It cracked and groaned at her, her face contorting to muffle the grunts in response. Her efforts were in vain however for the young man sat up behind her.

“Are you ok?” Jack reached a shaking hand out to her shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s just stiff in the mornings. I’m used to it,” Genevieve assured, tensing as his cool fingertips collided with her stiff skin.

“Can I help?” He asked.

“A kiss would make me feel better.”

Since he was still groggy from sleep, Jack took a moment for this to settle in. A lovely shade of scarlet bloomed on his cheeks. Then he shuffled closer and kissed Genevieve’s shoulder, his lips warm through the fabric of her shirt. She accidentally let a giggle loose as she turned her head to face him. Tilting her head back, she rested her head against his.

“I dreamed of waking up next to you for so long,” Jack uttered with a sigh. In his sleepy state, he kissed her chin instead of her lips. The action elicited more giggles from them both and, while not complying with his daydreams completely, filled him with the validation of so longed for.

Now fully aware of the extent of Genevieve’s injuries, Jack effectively planned their first date. He picked her up at eleven the next day in his car and drove her down to his local park, picnic basket full and jumping in the backseat with the uneven road’s trips. He ignored Genevieve’s comment about how she hoped his flying was better than his driving and pulled into a spot just outside the park gates.

Genevieve forgot how lanky he was but he slowed his pace to meet hers, guiding her to his favourite spot. They took a seat on the picnic blanket laid down on the grassy plain of the park, the tree branches fanning out the golden leaves above their heads to reveal the sky. It was fairly warm for late September.

Uncrossing her legs, Genevieve settled down on her back, “We should cloud-gaze; that’s a thing some people enjoy for a reason.”

“I enjoy cloud gazing,” Jack said indignantly, flopping down beside her, “Though, to be fair, I’m in the air when I cloud gaze.”

“Yeah, it’s better when you’re right next to them,” Genevieve flopped onto her back with a grunt and pointed, “Look it’s you.”

Jack lay down next to her and followed her finger to see a rather distorted cloud that looked vaguely like a troll - if one squinted.

“Ok, well, that one’s you,” He pointed to another one that just looked like a blob.

“I’ll accept that compliment but flattery will get you nowhere, Mister,” Genevieve snubbed with a smile. Jack unpacked some of the food, passing over a jam sandwich. He fell on his back and the pair continued to playfully insult one another with cloud comparisons. Neither admitted that this was their idea of heaven for many a year.

He rolled onto his side, head propped in his hand, “Are you gonna tell me the famous back story for your nickname?”

“Ah, it’s nothing special,” Genevieve swallowed the rest of her sandwich, “Just some shitty teacher used to call me it. He caned me for the dumbest shit, like breathing too loud. But one time I filled his desk with frogspawn.”

“Frogspawn?” Jack burst out.

“Yeah, I felt bad after so I took the frog and put them in the draw as well, to be with their babies,” Genevieve smiled fondly at the memory. She successfully replaced the frog and its babies into the local pond and visited everyday to see how they grew in thanks for their assistance in her prank.

“Genevieve Hastings, you’re a one,” Jack said giddily.

He continued to supply the conversation with his dry wit and food, which Genevieve accepted gratefully and reciprocated with her twist. The clouds grew closer together as their bodies did, hushed laughter fluttering between their tete-a-tete.

“I’m not a dog!” Genevieve snorted as he shook a box of raisins at her but opened her mouth anyway. Jack neatly tossed one into her mouth. Then he passed Genevieve the box. She deliberately nailed him on the nose and threw another into his mouth that was hanging open with indignation.

“Oh, I got you something else.”

Genevieve’s eyes widened as he leant over her. The smell of his soap was clinging to his shirt and skin, simplistic and somehow intoxicating. Every minor detail became major and she saw his collection of moles clustered on his neck.

“Hey, I meant what I said. I’m no floozy,” She said with mock seriousness in spite of her heart pounding against her ribcage. Jack merely smiled ingenuously and pulled a package out of the basket. Then he righted himself and held it out to Genevieve with an expectant smile. Suspicious, she sat up and accepted the present.

“Shortbread!” She lit up instantly, ripping off the lid and sticking her face in it to smell the baked goods.

“Hey! They’re for me too!”

“No!” She held the box away from him. He reached further, pressing her into the picnic blanket and causing her to groan again.

“Shit, sorry,” Jack abandoned the shortbread and helped Genevieve back into a sitting position. She rubbed her shoulder into calmer aches with her spare hand.

“S’alright. I’d rather you treat me normal than like I’m glass.”

With that, she crammed three wedges of shortbread into her mouth. Jack gawped before snatching one and eating it in a more delicate manner. They crunched on the glorious biscuit, smiles still etched onto their faces.

“You’ve got some crumbs,” He touched the left corner of his lower lips.

Genevieve brushed hers with the back of her hand and raised her eyebrows for confirmation. Instead Jack dropped his shortbread back in the box and dipped his head down, catching Genevieve off guard with a lingering kiss. She let out a blissful hum as he took her bottom lip between his and sucked softly, his tongue tracing off the crumbs remaining.

Smirking at his handiwork, Jack pulled away, and bumped his nose against her, “There.”

“I’m surprised you can keep your hands off me with that carry-on,” Genevieve spoke quietly to mask the fact that she was somewhat out of breath.

“You disapprove of my methods?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Hardly,” She lifted her chin up to kiss him again. Like she said before, they had all the time in the world to catch up. Many would be considered a shame that she was impatient now that she had a taste of his lips.

Jack was not one of these people and fully welcomed her impatience to settle his own. His hand strayed over to her right hip as their tongues intertwined. Despite the public placing, Genevieve kissed down to his jaw to the taut muscle on the left side of his neck, tempted to leave a mark as he whined above her.

And that’s when it started raining.

Genevieve grinned as Jack reluctantly balled up the picnic blanket, cane in hand as she started running towards the fence. Jack winced as he saw her obvious limp but followed with the basket and blanket over his arm. The gate swung in the wake of her path.

The urgency to get out of the pouring rain waned as Jack saw Genevieve spinning in the rain, arms outstretched, hair drenched, smile a beaming ray amidst the dark cover of the clouds. Both hands grasping her cane, she stood on tiptoe to reach as high as she could into the rain and closed her eyes. A long sigh was drawn from her in relaxation.

Dropping the basket, Jack stepped before her. Drops of water dribbled down their faces as he nudged his lips back to hers. Cane forgotten, Genevieve draped her arms around his shoulders and drew him closer. His lips were still warm, sweetened by the persistent scent of the fruit consumed earlier. There was no desperation anymore nor any demands laid forth as he slowly but surely deepened the kiss with an ever-present smile.

Regretfully it had to end but the drive back was brief to his place. However his joy trembled as Genevieve put more effort and weight onto her cane upon stepping out of the car.

“You sure you’re alright?” Jack held the building’s door for her.

“Please, I could’ve knocked down any of the men I’ve worked with.”

Genevieve hung back once Jack was through the door and before Jack could question what was happening she swept him up into her arms bridal style and hopped forwards. His body jerked in shock. As fast as he was raised, he was lowered. Jack grabbed her shoulders, eyes wild and wide as he checked that her leg hadn’t snapped from beneath her.

“It’s ok, I did it on one leg,” Genevieve touched his face briefly with a smile of reassurance.

“Don’t do that again, please,” Jack said, his voice rickety. His distress jarred Genevieve back to his reality, that he was terrified of losing her again.

“I won’t, I swear,” She gently cradled his face, pressing a brief kiss onto his unsuspecting lips, “Now let’s go get dry. As much as I love the rain, I’d rather not contract influenza.”

His flat was nicer than hers, despite being up the stairs. That negative was rendered null and void as Jack gave her a piggy back up the stairs – “eye for an eye, Ginny”. Upon placing her in his pleasantly decorated living room, he wrapped her up in a towel and disappeared to make some tea – “not peppermint, I promise” – while she waited for him.

“Have you had to get a job yet?” Jack called from the kitchen.

“Well, I’ve applied for a teaching position,” Genevieve said absentmindedly, flicking over the limited pictures Jack had decorating his desk. Curious, she pulled out the tin from her coat pocket and thumbed through the sheets of paper until she landed on the photo.

“Oh yeah?”

“Teaching assistant at an all-girls school, it’s not bad but some of them are little bitches.”

She held up the photo to his family photo where a younger Jack Collins was eating a sandwich and sat on the beach with Toby, Ethel and Karen. The unrestrained smile was the same. Genevieve didn’t notice Jack’s return until he was hovering over her shoulder to see the photo in her hands.

“Farrier was cracking something,” He said quietly, the memory still fond yet melancholy.

“What was he saying?”

“An awful pun about the photographer’s toupee.”

“Sounds more like something you’d say,” Genevieve turned to Jack and quoted, “‘Orange you glad I didn’t say blue?’”

“It wooed you, didn’t it?”

Genevieve let out a short exhale to signify her disdainful joy at the truth behind his statement, slipping the photo back into its place. Spying over her shoulder, Jack saw that beneath the photo was the faded fragile newspaper clipping, declaring the headline: “LOCAL BOY, GEORGE MILLS, JUST 17, HERO AT DUNKIRK”.

“That’s the lad from the Moonstone.”

“Yeah,” Genevieve sniffed before replacing the paper with its bundle.

“Have you spoken to-”

She interrupted, “Yeah. I spoke to Peter twice. He got drafted in 1941. Didn’t get his address and I don’t want to know.”

Her fingers were bent and itching at the air by her sides. Recognising this trigger from her stay at his ma’s, Jack followed her and took her hands. He flattened the fingers against his palms, curling his own on top to secure them in place, away from her arms. Genevieve looked appreciative at this gesture.

“Is that why you didn’t go to my house?” He said softly before kissing the back of her hands.

Nodding, Genevieve leant into him, seeking comfort he was happy to provide, “I thought maybe if I stayed ignorant, you’d - to some extent - still be alive. I was terrified. Didn’t think you’d come looking for me.”

“Of course I was going to look for you.”

Placing the tin down on his desk, Genevieve turned and cuddled into his chest. It hit her again for the seventh time in the last three days how lucky she was to have him.

Perma-tag: @tomgcsglasses, @lowdenglynnstyles, @prettyboytgc and @lowdensnose

Complementary tag: @you-are-the-first-dream, @disneydirectioner, @lavidademarimar and @from-the-clouds

#collins series #collins x oc #collins dunkirk #jack lowden #jack lowden series #jack lowden x oc #jack lowden imagine #collins imagine #dunkirk cast #dunkirk imagine #dunkirk series #my writing #r: female #complementary #series

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