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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

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Build-A-Bear

Part Four

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, making out

Chapter Summary: You go on a short trip to Massachusetts to see Peter, Bucky takes you on a second date, someone gets caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Author’s Note: This was going to be a filler but it has a decent amount of necessary plot and progression. The next part will have a time jump so I don’t have to include a bunch of filler chapters, blehk. Let me know if you see my Avatar: The Last Airbender reference in here! And as always, you’re welcome to send me a coffee!

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh @ursmolbunny @devilswaldorf

By the time Monday rolled around, you were thankful Bucky had training in the morning or you would’ve never gone to sleep. Most of the deeper subjects had been touched on when you were together on Saturday, so Sunday was just texting more playful banter and fun facts you hadn’t learned during your lab hangouts, but you two still talked until your phone was propped up on your pillow waiting for another message while you drifted in and out of sleep.

Bucky had sent you a sweet “good morning, doll” text for you to wake up to, but you didn’t talk much before you had to head to work and he had to work out with Steve. That’s the downside to waking up with just enough time to get ready. Not much wiggle room for distractions, no matter how delicious.

You had barely settled in to your workspace, specs for Sam’s wings pulled up in front of you, when you had a request for a FaceTime call from Peter, of all people. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks since he went back to campus, but he was set to come back soon for a weekend.

“Hey Peter, what’s up?” you answered.

“Hey [Y/N]! I, uh, I kind of have a big favor to ask,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“Oh… okay? What’s going on?”

“Well, you remember that project you wanted my help on?” You nodded. “Well I talked to my professor about it and he said I can use it as my final project for this semester as long as you come to the proposal and document what you did on it so I don’t take credit for any of your work. If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine! I can probably work on another project, I just don’t want to put your project off and make you wait for me to finish my part —“

“Peter!” you shouted, cutting off his rambling with a laugh. “I think that sounds great. It’ll be nice for you to kill two birds with one stone. When would I need to be there?”

“Uhh,” he started with another forced laugh. “My proposal is Wednesday.”

You stared at the screen, motionless at his response. “Wednesday. Like, two days from now, Wednesday?” Peter nodded. You could practically see him sweating through the phone, worrying about whether or not he should’ve asked his professor sooner or just completely avoided the subject entirely. But you knew he probably didn’t have much heads-up and considered using your project a little late in the game. “It’s a good thing I like you, kid. Let me double check with the boss but I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” Peter cheered.

“I’ll text you when my flight leaves because there’s no way I’m driving ten hours.”

You and Peter briefly went over how things would work, from what you should wear to whether you’d be getting a hotel room or bunking on his futon. While you were talking, you emailed your dad about the trip and got a quick approval. Tony liked Peter, and you understood why. He reminded you of your father if your dad had a stutter instead of an ego.

Mid-afternoon, when you took your second 20-minute break of the day just to let your brain relax, there was a soft tap on the door of your lab before Bucky poked his head in. He stepped in and looked around the whole room frantically before he noticed you curled up under a blanket on the giant bean bag chair you shoved into the corner once Peter left. You liked being able to take your breaks in the quiet of the lab so your brain could actually shut down for a few minutes.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky said with a smile.

“Hey Buck,” you replied, mirroring his smile. “How’s your day?”

“Pretty good,” he said with a sigh. “Just bored so I thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Just taking a break,” you shrugged. “But you’re more than welcome to sit with me while I work. I won’t interact much because I lose focus easily but you can hang out.”

“As appealing as that is,” he started as he walked closer to you in your bean bag chair, “I know I’d start asking questions and I don’t want to distract you.”

You stood from your spot as he got closer and smirked up at him. “You are pretty distracting.” He stopped when he was toe-to-toe with you. “It’s a good thing my breaks are made for distraction.”

He smiled down at you as his warm hand curled around the back of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss, your own hands looping through his belt and pulling his body closer to yours.

You practically melted into him, feeling as if you couldn’t get closer no matter how hard you tried. Even him slipping his thigh between your legs didn’t feel close enough. Then the weight of his metal hand fell to your waist as his tongue entered your mouth. It was all reminiscent of your first kiss just a couple days before.

Except outside your apartment, you didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

“Hey [Y/N], have you—“ You and Bucky quickly pulled apart at the sound of a new voice coming from the doorway and you immediately started to panic.

“—seen Bucky,” Steve ended with a sigh. The door quietly clicked shut behind him as he stepped in. “So you two…?”

“Have been on a date,” you said, walking toward Steve with your hands held out. “Steve, please don’t tell anyone, especially Tony.”

“You kind of owe me one, punk,” Bucky said as he walked closer, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I never ratted you out for lying on, what, five different enlistment papers?”

Steve huffed at this, clearly stuck between following the rules or letting others break rules that were much more harmless than his past rule breaking.

“You know this is gonna come out eventually, right? You won’t be able to hide this — and whatever this becomes — forever,” Steve warned.

“We know,” you said solemnly, “but it’s nice to just have this for now, you know?” You looked over at Bucky, who was leaning against the lab table looking back at you, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Just… be careful,” Steve said as he started to leave. “If you don’t lock the door, at least ask Friday to alert you if someone is coming this way.”

“You know, I don’t care what people say about you, Steve. You’re pretty smart.” Steve initially smiled but then let out a short ‘hey!’ as you pushed him the rest of the way out.

“That was close,” you said, turning back to Bucky.

“But at least we have a pretty influential Avenger on our side, if we ever get outed,” Bucky said. Too bad he didn’t know the approval of everyone on earth would mean nothing to your dad — and both of your boss.

“Well, that little debacle kind of wasted the rest of my break,” you pouted, stepping up to Bucky.

“Can I take you out again?”

“I’d like that a lot,” you smiled. “Oh! I’m leaving for Massachusetts tomorrow and coming back on Thursday and have my family thing on Friday so will Saturday work?”

“Massachusetts?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the rest of your statement.

“Yeah, I’m helping Peter with a project so his prof wants me to be there to answer questions while he proposes his project. It’ll just be Wednesday, but Tony let me have tomorrow and Thursday off for travel so I’m taking my time.”

“That sounds…” Bucky started. “Uhh… I gotta be honest, that sounds unbearably boring,” he laughed, making you giggle with him. “But good luck to you and Peter. I’ll see you Saturday?”

•

The trip to Massachusetts was short but boring, and you were relieved to see Peter’s car when you stepped outside. Your hotel was right down the road from his dorm, so you dropped your stuff off before heading to his room to go over the proposal.

Even though you had only spent a few weeks working with Peter, he had grown to be like a brother to you. Spending so much time every day with no one else to talk to can really help people bond. Your dad’s adoration for the kid definitely helped, too. You wouldn’t be surprised if your dad eventually brought Peter along to family dinner.

“So I have to do most of the work, but you’ll need to explain why we’re doing this and what you’ll be doing,” Peter said after reviewing his speech.

“Okay, I can manage that.”

Peter was quiet for a second before saying, “Do you… maybe wanna go over what you’ll say…?”

“Oh, sure! Sorry, public speaking is a big thing in my family so I just figured I’d wing it.”

“Please don’t,” Peter said quietly, his eyes going wide right as the words left his mouth. “I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just mean, this proposal is important to me so I want it to go as smoothly and well-planned as possible.”

“Okay, you be your professor.”

Peter cleared his throat and said, “Miss [Y/L/N], what prompted you to start this project with Mr. Parker? And what role will you play in its growth?”

“Well, Dr. Kramer, I recently received a promotion within Stark Industries to work with the Avengers on their weaponry. This work included the vibranium arm on the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. One thing I noticed early on was the lack of sensory receptors within the arm. That observation, along with a similar request from Mr, Barnes, prompted me to look into ways to change this. Mr. Parker has an internship with Mr. Stark so, considering our different areas of study, I sought out his help. With my knowledge and expertise on the mechanical side of things, Mr. Parker will primarily be working on the more biological side of things. Once he finds a way to connect new receptors to the spinal column through the current nerve channels, I’ll be able to create millions of micro-receptors that will need to essentially be surgically embedded in the vibranium. I already have the blueprints for this process; I’m more than willing to share those documents with you, though it is confidential and I would need you to sign an NDA for safety reasons.”

Peter stood in the middle of his room, speechless.

“I told you it runs in my family,” you laughed. “Now pick your jaw up off the floor. I’m hungry.”

The next day, Peter and you breezed through the proposal. Peter didn’t even stutter during his speech! But his classmates did bombard you with questions that the professor quickly shut down. You and Peter spent the rest of the day catching up. He introduced you to his girlfriend Michelle and his friends Ned and Flash. By the time you got back to your hotel that night, you were exhausted — and thankful for an afternoon flight.

The next morning, you got breakfast with Peter before his class and finished packing to fly back to New York. You were once again grateful for an afternoon flight because by the time you got back, you didn’t have time to get back to work. So you took the evening off and treated yourself to a bath, some wine, and your favorite Netflix series — and texting Bucky, of course.

Family dinner that week was much easier than the previous week. Your dad mainly asked about your project with Peter, only briefly touching on Bucky’s involvement. At least until your phone buzzed on the table. It was a rule that phones stay face-up on the table at dinner and any messages get read aloud. So when you saw “James 🐻” pop up, heat rushed to your face. You managed to snatch your phone before your dad could, but you still had to read it out loud to the table.

“Uh,” you nervously cleared your throat. “So, James said ‘I have an idea for our date tomorrow, but I would need full reign over your kitchen for a while.’” You sent the table a tight-lipped smile as you locked your phone and set it down again, waiting for someone to say something.

“You’re going out with this James again?” your dad asked.

“Yes,” you said plainly. “I like him, dad. A lot.”

“And you’re already inviting him over?”

“Dad, stop. I’m a grown woman; I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying… well, don’t you want to get to know him better first? Make sure he doesn’t want to wear your skin?”

“Ew, shut up,” you laughed. “I’ve done plenty of research into him; he’s a good guy.” Your dad still looked skeptical, so you pulled out your puppy dog eyes. “Please trust me on this.”

Tony huffed and shook his head. “Okay, fine. He’s a good guy. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. And don’t do anything I would do either.” You rolled your eyes at him but managed to divert the conversation by asking Happy and Pepper what Tony’s limit really meant.

•

The next day at 3:30 on the dot, you got a call to your house phone by the front door. It was unusual, especially since you hadn’t ordered any food. The doorman usually brought food up, but called if they were working alone. And you knew they weren’t working alone, considering how early it was. Still in your sweats and a t-shirt since Bucky wasn’t coming over until 4, you answered the phone with a simple “hey.”

“Hello Miss [Y/L/N],” you recognized the doorman Matt’s voice, “there’s a James at the front door for you?”

“Oh, okay, shit,” you said, whispering the last word to yourself. “Go ahead and send him up.”

“Would you like to grant him regular access to your residence?” Matt was always so formal, probably because you pushed for your dad to hire him and he knew he had to keep this gig. His background check showed he came from a low-income family and really wanted to turn that around. He knew he owed you and because of that, he was always grateful and sweet.

“Yes please. Thanks, Matt!”

With that, you hung up and sprinted to your room, knowing Bucky only had a 20 second elevator ride before he got to the sixth floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have time to scramble for new clothes before there was a knock at your door. You grumbled as you ran back to the front door and greeted Bucky.

“Hi,” you said, half out of breath from your scurrying.

“Hey,” he smiled back. “I’m glad we chose the same style today.”

You gave him an admittedly generous once-over and realized his gray sweats and black tee matched yours, though your shirt did have an NYU logo on it.

“Oh thank god,” you nearly cackled. “I was panicking because I thought I should dress nice but you were early so I didn’t have time but I didn’t want to get ready too early so I wasn’t —“

“Hey [Y/N]?” Bucky interrupted. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” You stepped aside and let him kick his shoes off in the entryway. That’s when you noticed all the grocery bags in his hands. “Uhh, whatcha got there?”

“I said I’d need your kitchen, right?” he smiled, sending a wink your way as he started setting up. “I’m gonna cook you some authentic Romanian dishes ma used to make back in the ‘30s.”

“Ohh, sounds yummy. Can I help?”

“If you want to eat any of it, you better help,” Bucky joked.

“Let me grab a couple aprons so our fancy attire doesn’t get dirty.” In the hallway closet, you had about a dozen aprons Happy got for you. You said you needed some aprons once and suddenly you were getting new aprons for every gift-giving holiday. You appreciated it, though. Every time Happy saw an apron he thought you’d like, he bought it. And you, in return, bought him every oven mitt you thought he would like after he accidentally burned his hand making green bean casserole one year for Thanksgiving.

You grabbed the “Queen of the Cat-chen” apron covered in cats for yourself and for Bucky, the “I’ll feed all you fuckers” apron your dad thought was hilarious on your last birthday.

“Sorry I don’t have any matching chef hats,” you joked as you handed Bucky his apron.

For the next three hours, you followed all Bucky’s instructions and watched as he did his part of the work, chatting while things cooked and finally relaxing once everything was plated. You each had a decent amount of food debris on your aprons, making you thankful you both wore them. You led Bucky into the living room where you sat on the floor between your couch and the coffee table.

“You know the couch is made for sitting, right?” Bucky asked as he slowly sat behind you, one leg on either side of your body.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun to sit on the floor, especially when I’m eating.” You turned your head to face him as you continued, “I get too sleepy if I’m on the couch too long.”

He chuckled at your confession but didn’t argue. You both ate in comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the hum of traffic six floors down and the TV quietly playing a crackling fire YouTube video.

“Can you finish this for me?” you asked as Bucky set his empty plate on the coffee table.

“I’m full, doll.”

“Bucky, please? I can’t finish it,” you whines, pouting up at him.

“Then just put it away with the leftovers and eat it later,” he shrugged.

“But I’m so bad at eating leftovers,” you groaned.

“Then I’ll put it away and eat the leftovers,” he conceded. He snatched the plate from you and headed to your kitchen to pack it all away.

By the time he made it back, you were snuggled under a blanket on the couch with “What’s Your Number?” pulled up on the TV.

“I hope you’re okay with watching my favorite movie,” you smiled, making sure to flutter your eyelashes extra hard so he couldn’t say no.

“I haven’t seen this one yet so sure,” he said with a shrug.

He yanked the blanket off your body and unfolded it so he could bring you under his right arm and cover both of you with the thick fabric. Ever since Monday in the lab, he’s been more affectionate. He stopped by on Friday and kissed you at least half a dozen times before he left, then earlier while you were cooking, it was like he had to hold your hips every time he watched over your shoulder, and he chose to end the night holding you into his side and… oh, you were a goner once his fingers started lightly tracing shapes on your bare arm.

And he had to have known you were weak, if the way he angled his body toward you was any indication. You loved the movie you had picked out and really did want to watch it… but when you looked up at Bucky and saw his gaze meet yours, you knew the movie was going to be long forgotten.

His lips pressed to yours firmly, like he wanted to make sure you remembered what he felt like. You quickly let things escalate by gripping his hair and pulling him with you and you laid back on the couch. Your legs fell open as he slid right between them, his left arm propped on the cushion to keep himself from crushing you and his right slipping under your shirt to hold your waist. When his tongue passed your lips, you couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of him taking control. His hand never moved past your waist, just occasionally squeezing as he pressed his body against yours.

The rest of the night was spent alternating between making out, talking while you were chest to chest on the couch, and making out some more until you fell asleep against his chest.

•

The next morning, you woke up to the blaring sound of a ringtone... that wasn’t your ringtone. And you were on your couch? The sleepy haze quickly wore off when you felt Bucky’s body shift behind you to reach over and grab his phone.

“What?” he answered grumpily, though your body’s initial reaction was to how deep and gravelly his voice was in the morning. Fuck.

With how close you two were and how quiet it was with the TV off, you managed to barely make out what was being said on the other end of the line.

“Where are you?” It was Steve. “You were supposed to be at the group breakfast this morning but you weren’t in your room so I told Tony you weren’t feeling well.”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky groaned. Now that sound sent all your senses into overdrive. “I fell asleep at [Y/N]’s last night.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Steve replied, clearly exasperated. “Look, just stop by a convenience store and grab some medicine so when you get back, no one questions it. You snuck out when no one saw, that’s the story.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll head out soon.” Once they hung up, you rolled over on the couch to face Bucky.

“Good morning,” you said with a sleepy grin.

“Good morning,” he replied, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m sure you heard but I’ve gotta head out before Tony gets suspicious.”

“Okay. Text me when you get back?”

Bucky stood from the couch, and you followed suit behind him as he put his sneakers and jacket on.

“I’ll text you on my whole trip back,” he smiled. “Looks like you might have to bring those leftovers with you tomorrow. I don’t know that I can sneak them back today.”

You practically skipped to join him at the door, your hands going to rest on his chest before he could leave.

“Should we just designate Saturdays as our date nights?” you asked.

“Who said you get another date?” Bucky joked back.

“Excuse me?” you gasped in mock offense. “Next time I get to choose what we do and I’m not letting you take that away from me.”

Bucky chuckled at your little outburst but pressed another kiss to your lips as a peace offering.

“Next Saturday, your pick,” he smirked.

“It’s a date.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #Stark!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 3 years

Note

I was wondering if you'd consider doing a Hotch x plus size reader? Totally fine if you're not up for it! I have this idea where the reader is a tech person like Penelope & she's around the same age. On a number of occasions she'll stay later to finish her work and it's only her & Hotch left. So she starts this cute little friendship where she'll make him coffee before she leaves. That turns into a crush, then she begins to avoiding him cuz she's shy, then he confronts her saying her likes her.

Late Nights

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x PLUS!Reader

Warnings: None

WOWWW this is a long one hope you guys enjoy it 🤗💜

MASTERLIST

-----

“You know, working this late should be against the law for single parents” walking in Hotch’s office I shut the door behind me

“You’re working late again?” he looked up from the file on his desk smiling at me

“My stupid systems chose today of all days to act up, I had to upgrade the software and all the fun stuff” placing the extra coffee cup on his desk I plopped down in the chair opposite me

“It’s taking a while to get back online but hopefully I’ll be out of here in the next hour or so”

For the past couple weeks Hotch had been working late nights and I thought that I’d stay back also in case he needed someone to talk too. As a profiler he sees and deals with a lot of gruesome things that would keep a normal person up all night. At first it was innocent, I’d pop in to check in on him to distract him for a bit or make him his coffee when he insists on staying in the office later than usual but as we grew closer he started opening up more to me. He started talking about the things they saw and did on the case the team had worked on and then we started talking more about Jack and how he’s doing at school, more personal topics

“I know I’m not the most open when it comes to expressing feelings but I just want to say thank you” Aaron took a sip of his coffee before placing the cup down, eyes glued to my frame

“What are you thanking me for?” he smiled and I couldn’t help but swoon a bit. Aaron doesn’t smile much or show us his soft side so it’s nice to see him this relaxed around me

“For being a friend, for working late nights with me and all the coffee” my stomach fluttered as he went on

“The coffee is good” chuckling I brought my cup to my lips and took a sip in order to help hide the blush that heated up my cheeks

“It is, oh I forgot to ask you, Jack has a soccer game this weekend and he insisted that I asked you to be there” he fiddled with his fingers waiting for my reaction

“Of course, I’ll be there”

------

“Of course, I’ll be there. That’s what I told him, oh God what if I’m reading into this too much”

I’m currently pacing the floor of Penelope’s bat cave as we waited for the coroner’s report to come in. My phone buzzed for the tenth time today, looking down at the screen I sighed letting it go to voicemail

“Hotch again? You know he doesn’t smile nor opens up so easily to anyone besides you, I wouldn’t be surprised if he likes you” Penelope got cut off by the ringing phone on her desk

“Speak and be heard oh mighty one”

“Garcia I need you to dig deeper into our victims background” Hotch’s voice filled the room and I immediately sat down

“Sure, anything specific I’m looking for sir?” she started tapping away at her keyboard doing exactly what he said

“We need to find the connection between all three of them”

“Okay sir, I’ll call you back when I have something”

“Penelope wait, don’t hang up” she paused with her finger over the end button looking over at me

“Is Y/N with you?” I frantically motioned for her to say no and thankfully she caught on

“No sir, want me to pass on a message?”

“No, no, uh thanks Garcia” he sounded so defeated and that only made me feel even more guilty. For the past three days I’ve been avoiding Aaron for as much as I could ever since the night in his office, I realized that I was setting myself up for heartbreak. The call ended and she glared at me

“You are hurting that man”

“I know and I feel terrible but I need to put some distance between the both of us”

“He’s in Nevada with the team right now how much more distance do you want?” she deadpanned looking me in the eyes

“It’s complicated alright”

“It really isn’t” she turned back to her set and started working on the case ending our conversation

-----

“Welcome back my heroes!”

Garcia held a box of cupcakes up welcoming the team back as they stepped off the elevator. I stood a few feet behind her smiling at them as they grabbed a cake and filled into the bullpen. I was about to follow behind them when a hand held on to my wrist keeping me in place

“Is everything alright?”

Aaron

“Yeah, everything’s fine, why would they be?” I started rambling removing my hand from his hold, avoiding his gaze

“You say that but I don’t believe you, let’s talk in my office” he opened the door for me and we headed straight to his office. I saw Penelope shoot me a small smile before I entered the room. I took a seat on the sofa as he moved to his desk.

Aaron dropped his go bag on his desk and removed his jacket before joining me on the sofa. He stared into my eyes trying to get a sense of what’s going on, profiling me

“Is there a reason why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you sir” I couldn’t help but pick at my fingernails as nervousness washed over me

“Sir? Y/N, it’s just the two of us and yes, you haven’t even returned any of my calls or texts” I wrecked my brain trying to come up with an excuse but I couldn’t

“I know that there isn’t any other way to say this but, the other night when we were in here I had to tell you something but I didn’t know how you were going to take it, I still don’t-” he rambled scratching the back of his neck

“Aaron” placing my hand on his knee I cut him off, he took my small hand in his gently brushing the back of my hand using his thumb

“I like you” he blurted and I froze, my heartrate sped up the longer we sat here staring at each other

Say something idiot!

“Why me?”

Dear God, you should’ve stayed quiet

“What do you mean why you?”

“I’m not your type Aaron”

“What’s my type then?”

“Someone like Emily, brave, courageous, can actually shoot to save herself, skinny, gorgeous” I mumbled the last two hoping he didn’t hear them but he did

“You don’t have to be skinny to be gorgeous and besides, you are perfect, you’re funny, sweet, caring, determined, charismatic, I could go on” he smiled giving my hand a gentle squeeze as we held each other’s gaze

“Most importantly, you make me feel safe” my breathing hitched as we sat here, neither one of us wanting to break the moment

“I like you too Aaron”

------

The referee blew the whistle ending the soccer match and Jack jumped with glee with his team as they were the winners. I cheered and clapped happy for the little boy who scored one of the winning goals as he ran directly to his father. Smiling I made my way over to the Hotchner boys and Jack broke free from Aaron’s arms and rushed over to me

“Good job buddy, you did so great!” wrapping my arms around the child I kissed the top of his head

“Did you see me score?” he pulled back enough to look up at me and I cupped his flushed cheeks in my palms

“I did and that was an excellent bicycle kick”

“Jack!” one of his teammates called him over for a group photo and he ran off. A pair of arms snaked around my waist pulling me flush against the owner, Aaron

“You did great with them” spinning around I wrapped my arms around his middle

“I did the best I could with a group of ten year olds”

“Thanks for coming it means a lot to me and I know it does to him too”

“No need to thank me, I had a good time listening to chatty Cathy to your left go on about how hot you look in those shorts” he laughed pulling me in closer to him

“Join us for dinner tonight, it’s been a while since he’s seen you and it’ll be good to have you around more”

“Sounds like a plan” pushing myself upwards I kissed him and he immediately responded. I swear I was about to explode from the electricity that flowed through my body from having his lips on mine

We were so wrapped up in our moment that we had forgotten about the crowd of people that surrounded us until they started wolf whistling and cheering us on. Breaking apart my face became heated from the blush that overtook my cheeks. Aaron looked down at me with a boyish grin clearly enjoying the moment

“How’s that for our first kiss?”

“Not quite what I was expecting”

“C’mon let’s head back to my place” taking my hand in his he called out to his son and we headed to his car. The both of them quickly fell into conversation and I must admit, seeing Hotch domesticated has got to be the hottest thing ever

The bond that these two have is very special and I can’t wait to share more moments like this with them

------

HEY GUYS PSA!! If any of you lovely readers would love to tagged in my fics let me know and I’ll gladly add you to the list ❤️

Tag list:

@calm-and-doctor

#criminal minds #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaronhotchnerimagine #aaron hotchner x plus reader

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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 1: Hurt No Comfort} |

| It all went wrong so quickly. Marinette thought she could trust Jason, that he'd never betray her. And Jason thought the same. But with a truth-serum turned poison seeping through their veins, neither had thought to look for the purple feathers. |

| Word Count: 1,706. |

———

| A/N: I'll try and keep this short and sweet but it's nice to dip back into writing for Maribat, I really missed it whilst I was gone. Also I've now got a author's channel in MGI where I sometimes put title sneak peaks, snippets, and random au ramblings, so y'know feel free to pop into the channel and have a gander if you'd fancy! And one last thing, keen eyes may have noticed I've added a Spotify Playlist Link, it contains all the songs I listened to when working on this oneshot, if you're curious! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Marinette staggers back, clutching at her bloodied side as the world spins for a moment and everything blurs. Breath catches in her throat as a sharp pang of betrayal pierces her heart, tears springing to the corners of her eyes unbidden. Whimpering, she barely manages to cry out, “J–Jason?”

Heartbreak coating his name like the truth serum-poison making its way through her system at this very moment.

She makes an awful choking noise and collapses to her knees, scrunching her face up and wheezing. Barely is she able to keep her eyes open, fixated on staring at someone she thought she could trust.

Smirking lazily, Jason saunters up to her, crouches and then grabs her face by the chin, forcing her to tilt her head up to continue staring at him in the eyes. “Aw, did you really fucking think I cared about you this entire time?”

Marinette swallows thickly—unable to conjure up a response to him. Black spots start to form in the corner of her vision like watching a spattering of embers burning away on a piece of paper.

He tilts his head to the side and snorts, “really? Nothing to say, no heartfelt "I trusted you!" or "you're lying!". Not even a "I know the real you is still in there?", how fucking pathetic.”

There's a small part of her brain that starts flashing red lights and wailing alarms—warning her that she's in danger, that she's hurt, that she's stopped breathing. She can't breathe, can't move, can't say anything or she'll spill all her remaining secrets.

Jason sighs and drops her chin. “And here I fucking thought your shitty-ass reaction to me betraying you would be more fun.”

Grimacing, she waits a heartbeat after he lets go before mustering all her strength to slam her skull into his—if I'm going down, you're coming with me for this, Marinette mentally vows.

There's a horrendous thwacking sound as the impact lands, and Marinette feels as though her brain has turned into a blender that just had its blades snap mid blend.

Jason, on the other hand, flings himself backwards and curses up a storm. He pulls out one of his guns and with dizzying vision, manages to shoot a bullet that just clips the uninjured side of her ribs. “That's what you fucking get for that you bitch!”

Marinette doubles over as the pain seems to ricochet through her; vision blacking out completely. She struggles for breath, her hearing cutting off not a second later. Objectively, she's aware she's not alone. But as her senses shut down one by one, leaving her helplessly trapped in her own mind, she can't help but wonder why her heart aches with loneliness. I'm sorry, she silently apologises to no one and everyone.

Distantly, she thinks she's swaying—or collapsing again maybe. But it's hard to tell, it's disorientating trying to focus on the world with dying senses.

Marinette is lost. Every little movement, every little thought—it's agony, a struggle to keep going, keep holding on. Once more, she silently pleas for forgiveness from the kwami.

She stops.

Stops breathing. Heart stops beating. Stops fighting. It all stops.

At least this way, she thinks to herself, I can't spill any secrets from the truth serum-poison if I carry them to the grave instead…

She sinks into the darkness, clinging to her final thought in numb relief as she does so. Everything fades away.

———

Jason groans as the knife Marinette is wielding digs deeper between his ribs.

She doesn't move back immediately, so he grits his teeth and roundhouse kicks at her—the heavy thump of collision makes his wound burn like acid has just been poured on it.

He's a few seconds too slow pulling his leg back, as Marinette slices the knife through his calf.

“Fuck!” He bites out, throwing himself further out of her range and breathing. “Marinette!”

With the gall to smile faux-innocently, she plays with the knife in her hand, slipping it between her fingers and swirling it about. “Yes, Jason?”

“The fuck are you doing!?” He growls, shifting his position when she doesn't move to apply pressure to the calf wound.

She shrugs, seemingly unbothered, “what? Did you really think this wouldn't happen one day? That I wouldn't get sick of you. Show you just how much you've hurt me the entire time we've known each other?”

Jason spits blood from his mouth at the warehouse floor in front of her. “I don't believe whatever shit you're being made to spew, but I sure as fucking hell know that you'd never do something as fucked up as this.”

“Oh, that's cute! You still believe in me. What's next, are you going to beg me to come to my senses? Are you going to cry my name and hope it changes my mind? Are you going to declare that the "real" me is still there inside and that you're going to save me?” Marinette giggles, high-pitched and yet hollow sounding.

Jason flinches at the sound, breathing stuttering as the poison from her knife starts to really seep in. Shit, he thinks to himself, truth serum-poison. If I'm not careful I'm gonna say shit that should stay secret.

A flash of silver catches the edge of his vision. And it's all the warning he gets. He immediately ducks and rolls, cursing under his breath as his wounds are aggravated. The air by his hair swooshes as the blade just narrowly misses.

Marinette giggles taper off into a hiss of fury. Her hair slips out of her pigtails from the constant movement, and multiple strands fall in front of her face. She huffs, ineffectively blowing them out of the way. “Did you really think I ever loved you?”

“Yes!” The words are choked out of his mouth before he can even think, the truth serum-poison kicking in hard and fast. Jason wheezes and the taste of iron lingers like malice in his throat. Fuck, he thinks desperately, I'm running out of time and Marinette isn't snapping out of whatever the fuck's been done to her.

He stumbles into another roll, as the blade comes swinging at him again. His vision blurts violently, and the next thing Jason knows—is that his view has suddenly tipped upside down and that there's a throbbing ache radiating from the back of his shoulders and head.

“Huh, you really do have a thick skull. Normally that'd be enough to knock anyone else out. Well, I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way.” Marinette rambles, pulling out a rag.

Jason grunts as he pushes himself only to be slammed back into the concrete warehouse floor, rag pressed firmly over his mouth and nose.

He thrashes and refuses to inhale. Marinette scowls and kicks him sharply into the ribs, causing him to gasp through gritted teeth. But it's enough to affect him.

His vision teeters then flickers to black, he can feel his movements slowing—becoming more and more sluggish until he's as still as he was in that fucking coffin he's had to crawl out of once before. At least, he barely manages to cling to the final thought, I can't spill any secrets if I carry them to the grave once more.

And then it all fades away.

———

Lila steeples her finger and smirks. She's sitting in her plain white office for the Agreste, three monitors set up before her on the desk. The middle screen shows her emails and a few tabs up on fashion for work-related reasons. The outer two screens, however, show the feed to two identical cells—two by four by five metres with cement floors and grey brick walls, no windows and a single plain black metal door. No furniture either, not even beds or toilets, just chains attached to the wall opposite the door. And in the chains is what has Lila so very happy indeed; Marinette and Jason, one in each cell and both stuck in the chains with no hope for escape.

A steady pool of blood has already formed beneath the both of them, thanks to the wonderful work of her Sentimonster duplicates of the two.

Lila can't help but monologue in her glee, “It's so excellently simple really. Even if one escapes, there's no way they'll help the other escape now. Now they've experienced the pain of betrayal and torture inflicted by the other!”

Footsteps approach the door to her office; all it takes is a quick click and click of the mouse and her two outer screen feeds flip to showing more work-related tabs and emails.

The door opens to reveal Adrien, slightly dishevelled—hair and shirt ruffled, eyes red with dark bags beneath them, and shiny tear streaks down his cheeks—he stands in the threshold, shaking. “Did you know?”

Lila smiles in fake confusion. “Know what?”

Adrien swallows, gaze flickering to her screens. “Marinette's dead. So is Jason.”

Lila tilts her head to the side to make it look as though she's thinking. “The Wayne boy that was close to her, right? Oh dear.”

His tired gaze turns back to Lila as he continues. “They think both of them were kidnapped and tortured separately. Police have found traces of an altered truth-serum among the bloodstains and…” He chokes for a second, grief plain as day across his face. “and they found pieces of fingers, ears, slices of skin, and all.”

“Oh, oh, that's horrible!” Lila gasps, covering her mouth with her hands to hide the victorious curl forming on her lips. “Have they found out who was cruel enough to do that to them yet?”

Adrien shakes his head silently.

“Hopefully, the culprit will be found soon. But if you need any support, I'll always be here for you, Adrien!” Lila gravely announces, bobbing her head slightly as she spoke.

He narrows his eyes at her, shakes his head, and then stalks away from her office.

She scowls as soon as his back turns and gets up to shut her door. “Well,” She says to herself as she flips back to the cell feed, “at least that means I'll have plenty of time to pull the secrets from you two without the police thinking to look for you alive.”

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Also feel free to send me any asks or comments with any questions you have regarding this oneshot, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #DC x MLB #MLB x DC #Jasonette #Jasonette July #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July 2021 #Jasonette July Saturday Challenge #Jasonette July Hurt No Comfort #Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture #YSPEWF #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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starryknight09 · 3 years

Text

Unforeseen dangers ch 9

Summary: As Peter recovers from his capture by Ross, a photo of him with Tony and the Avengers leaks and is splashed all across the media. Luckily, no one can figure out who he is and everyone thinks the buzz will die down. However, the public’s interest has been ignited. While Tony worries it’s only a matter of time before Peter’s identity is exposed, Peter isn’t as concerned. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Read on AO3.

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“How you holding up?” Tony asked Peter as the car pulled into the Tower’s private garage.

Peter shrugged in answer.

His kid had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the entirety of the car ride, but Tony didn’t know what else he’d expected. Tony had been raised in the spotlight. It was all he’d ever known, so he found it oddly difficult to put himself in Peter’s shoes and figure out what he was feeling. Instead of prying like he wanted to, he squeezed Peter against his side in a half hug.

“We’re here.” Happy announced unnecessarily as he put the car in park. As much as his current Forehead of Security liked to grump, Tony knew the man hated tense silences just as much, if not more, than he did.

Tony wasted no time opening the car door and stepping out, but he had to duck his head back in when Peter didn’t automatically follow behind him.

“Come on kid. Time to go. As comfy as my car is, you can’t sit in it all day.” He said to Peter who was staring straight ahead, spaced out. Peter blinked and slowly turned his head to take in Tony standing outside the car. Only then did he seem to notice that he was the sole person still left in the car.

“Oh.” Peter said and blinked again before finally climbing out. All his movements seemed slower than usual.

Tony didn’t call him on it. He rested a hand loosely on Peter’s shoulder as they walked over to the elevator together where Bruce, Nat, Happy, and Steve were already inside waiting.

“Penthouse FRIDAY.” He ordered as they stepped in.

“Thanks guys.” Peter finally spoke, although he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the ground.

“You don’t need to thank anyone.” Tony said before they had a chance to respond.

“You’re dad’s right.” Steve agreed. “We were happy to do it.”

“I needed to get out and get some air anyway.” Bruce added in a transparent attempt to lighten the mood.

Natasha just gave Peter a small smile while Happy let out a noncommittal grunt.

“Where’s everyone else?” Peter asked after another few seconds of silence had passed.

“Meeting us back here. Actually, they probably beat us.” Tony answered.

“Seems like an awful lot of trouble just to pick me up from school.” Peter frowned.

“Nope. No trouble. Everyone missed you and wanted to take their turn to come and get you. We tried rock paper scissors but since everyone on the team’s a sore loser I decided to let them all tag along.” Tony knew he was rambling and so obviously lying, but he didn’t want Peter to know the real reason everyone had shown up to get him, or the way his heart had started racing the moment he found out Peter’s identity had been discovered.

He’d been down in his workshop when Rhodey had come running in yelling his name. “Tony! Tony!”

When he’d heard the fear in Rhodey’s voice, he’d sat up so fast he’d smacked his head on the armor he’d been working on. Rhodey was one of the most unshakable people Tony knew. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen the man truly panic. He didn’t even want to imagine what had happened to add this moment to one of those times.

“What? What happened?” Fear swirled in his gut, visions of someone seriously hurt or dead flashed through his mind. Someone who could make Rhodey look like that. Peter. Pepper.

“Have you seen the news?” Rhodey asked as he held out a hand to help him stand from the floor.

“No.”

“It’s Peter.” Rhodey came right out and said it. He was never one to beat around the bush.

Tony’s eyes widened. “Peter? What about Peter? Is he ok?” His greatest fear brought to life. None of it made sense. Peter should be in school and completely fine. And he didn’t understand how Peter connected to seeing the news. His brain felt like it was trying to reboot, to sort out the information coming at him through his sudden panic.

“He’s fine, but it’s all over the news.”

“What is?”

“He is. Peter. They figured out his identity.”

His first instinct was to panic, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to stay clear headed and figure out what to do. For his kid.

He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath and forced himself to think. When he opened them again, he caught Rhodey staring at him, waiting for his decision on what to do.

“What exactly do they know?” Tony asked. He needed more information in order to work through the problem and figure out what to do next. “That he’s the kid from all the pictures with me?”

“Yes. That…” Rhodey said, but Tony could sense there was something else.

“And? What else?” He prodded, letting his impatience through.

“That he’s your son. That you adopted him.” Rhodey winced as he said it.

That was when the panic returned.

“Fuck.” He sprinted toward the elevator, Rhodey hot on his heels.

“Ok, now just for some perspective, don’t forget he’s Spiderman. He’s not some helpless kid.” Rhodey said as the elevator doors closed behind them.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He spat and pushed the button for the garage three times in succession to make the elevator drop at its fasted velocity.

“Yes.” Rhodey said as if it were obvious.

“Well it doesn’t. My kid’s still in danger, because of his connection to me.” He growled, glaring at his friend. He knew he was displacing all his anger and frustration on Rhodey who didn’t deserve any of it, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to reel himself in at the moment. Besides, as his oldest friend, Rhodey was definitely more than used to taking the undeserved brunt of his mood swings.

“What are you doing?” Rhodey asked as the doors opened and he jogged toward his fastest car.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m going to go get my kid!” He yelled, anger starting to override his fear. He was angry at the world for doing this to his son. Angry at himself for not doing a better job of preventing it. He called himself a futurist, and yet, he hadn’t been able to see this coming soon enough to stop it.

“Wait!” Rhodey called out from right behind him.

Tony ignored him.

“Just wait a minute!” Rhodey grabbed his shoulder.

Tony spun around, fury written on every line of his face. “What?”

“Stop and think Tony. What? You think you’re just going to march in there, grab him and come home? Like it’ll be that easy? The entire world knows he’s your son. They dug into everything they could about him before breaking the story ten minutes ago. They know his parents died and then his aunt and uncle. They know he’s a straight A student. They know he’s on the decathlon team. They know where he goes to school.”

Ice ran down his spine.

“They’re going to be camped out just waiting for you to show up. Waiting for him. For the spectacle of it. You know it. And god forbid, what if more than just the media is waiting? I know you like to joke about it, but you have a lot of enemies and as far as the world knows, your kid’s just a normal kid, completely unguarded at school right now. I know it’s a terrible thing to say, but if I wanted to hurt you, this would be the perfect opportunity.”

The hell of it was, he knew Rhodey was right, and not only that, but he couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered it before. This whole thing had shaken him more than he’d realized.

“All it would take is a sniper rifle and a good vantage point, and it’d be all too easy to tag the kid as soon as he stepped outside the school. Just like that.” Rhodey snapped his fingers.

Tony clenched his jaw at the image the words conjured. The logical side of his brain told him that Peter had that sixth sense that would keep him safe from something like that, but the dad side of his brain worried about it not working or worried that even with the warning Peter still might not react fast enough to get out of the way.

“With enough money it wouldn’t be too hard to get a hired hand in place in such a short time frame.” Rhodey continued but his voice had softened. “It’s what I would do.”

Tony closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over them. “Ok. So what do suggest we do then? Not get my kid? Leave him alone and unprotected at school?” He channeled all his fear and anger into sarcasm.

“Of course not.” Rhodey gave him a scathing look.

“What then?”

“We bring the team.” Rhodey said as if the answer were obvious.

So they had.

Within thirty minutes of the news breaking, Clint had positioned himself as a lookout on a nearby roof near the school and Sam and Rhodey had taken to the sky, flying around the area to ensure that all the other rooftops remained clear while Tony made his way to the school entrance along with Bruce and Steve, two of the most invincible Avengers, given Rhodey’s imagined threat of a sniper.

While Happy and Natasha waited in the car, the trio forced their way through the hoard of press already waiting like vultures outside the school. Tony cursed the fact that there was no other entrance near a street because it was going to make getting his kid out a nightmare.

Tony was honestly surprised Peter hadn’t called or texted him yet, but he remembered him mentioning something before about the teachers being strict about cell phone use during class, so maybe he just didn’t know yet.

Inside, the hallways remained quiet and desolate. Kids weren’t running around, excitedly talking, and getting ready to mob Peter at any moment, so class must’ve just started when the news broke. He figured that was the one lucky break in all of this.

The sound of his own phone ringing cut through the heavy silence. He gave the screen a cursory glance, intending to ignore it until he saw the caller ID. Pepper. One of the few people he’d answer a phone call from at a time like this.

“Hey Pep.” He said as he pressed the phone to his ear, trying to keep his voice down. The last thing he needed was some errant student recognizing him.

“Tony? Have you seen the news?” His heart warmed a little at the panic in her voice. She obviously cared about Peter too, which shouldn’t surprise him. The kid was like a puppy. Everyone he met seemed to fall in love with him, and Tony knew the two of them had grown closer over the holidays when she’d helped Peter file the adoption papers for his surprise Christmas present.

“I have.”

“Oh my god. Where are you?”

“I’m at his school. I’m picking him up.”

“By yourself?” He marveled at the way Pepper could make her voice shrill without actually reaching a high pitched decibel.

“No. Of course not.” He decided she didn’t need to know that was what he’d almost done until Rhodey had intervened. “I brought the team.”

“Oh thank god. Just get him back here and then we need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Stay safe.” She ordered, stern but worried, a tone with which Tony was all too familiar.

“I will.” He said, the corner of his mouth turning up as he hung up. It was times like these when he remembered what he and Pepper used to have, and he missed it.

He didn’t know what kind of expression was painted on his face, but whatever it was, it was enough for Steve to remind him, “Focus Tony.”

“Trust me Cap,” he said as he pocked his phone, “I’m as focused as anyone could possibly be right now.”

Steve nodded and within another ten steps they were standing in front of the office door.

Tony turned back to Bruce and Steve as he grabbed the handle. “Let’s go get my kid.”

He swung the door open like he owned the place and did exactly that.

Tony almost couldn’t believe that had all happened within the last hour. He still felt like he was doing catch up with trying to process everything. He couldn’t even imagine how Peter felt.

The elevator finally reached the penthouse and the doors opened, revealing a scene Tony hadn’t been expecting, although in retrospect, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Pepper had kind of warned him with her phone call earlier, but he hadn’t been thinking about it. He’d only been thinking about getting his kid to safety. Which he’d accomplished.

But now he needed to figure out how to approach this entire mess of a situation because it wasn’t going to fix itself. Thus, the reason for why the penthouse was currently filled with his PR employees.

They stepped out of the elevator and into a maelstrom of chaos. It was a scene reminiscent of the time he’d told the world he was Ironman and the resulting backlash. Or the time he’d supposedly asked some Russian model to marry him. He hadn’t. Or the time he’d been quoted as saying he was anti-gun, which hadn’t been true. At the time. Or the time he’d gotten plastered in Vegas and apparently forgotten to clothe his bottom half before stepping out onto his balcony. But all of those things had happened years ago. It’d been quite awhile since he’d been at the center of this kind of media shitstorm.

Pepper noticed him the moment he stepped into the room. She gave him a small smile as she walked over, but she stopped in front of Peter instead of him.

“Oh sweetie I’m so glad you’re ok.” She said as she pulled him into a tight hug.

He seemed a little surprised but didn’t hesitate to hug her back. “I’m fine.”

“I know.” She said as she released him and grasped his shoulders, looking him square in the eyes. “And don’t worry. We’re going to figure this out. We have people whose entire job is dealing with stuff like this.”

“What? A secret son?” Peter joked but it fell flat.

Pepper graced him with a wry smile. “Well, no. This is definitely a first, but you’d be surprised by what we’ve had to deal with when it comes to Tony.”

“Hey.” Tony acted affronted even though he knew she only spoke the truth.

Pepper arched an eyebrow at him.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Anyway, what’s the plan?”

“Now that you’re here, we can do a sit down and plan out our immediate next steps.” Pepper said, all business again.

“Uh-huh.” He said, distracted by the shell shocked look on Peter’s face as he took in the room and the dozen or so strangers bustling about.

“But I really think the first thing we need to do is hold an emergency press conference, so we should put together a statement for that as soon as possible.” Pepper continued.

“Yeah.” He frowned and then held up a hand when Pepper started to speak again. “We will definitely do all of that, but first I need a few minutes with my kid.”

Pepper blinked and looked over at Peter, her eyes softening at the obvious distress she saw there even as Peter did his best to try to hide it. “Of course. How about I get everyone together and we meet in the conference room at,” she checked her watch, “3:30PM. That’ll give you fifteen minutes. Is that enough time?”

“Should be.” He nodded and then gripped Peter’s shoulders. “Come on Underoos. Let’s go sit down for a minute.”

Peter let Tony guide him through all the pandemonium to the hallway and into his bedroom. Tony pressed him down to sit at the end of the bed before grabbing the desk chair for himself. He flipped it around and sat, letting his forearms rest on the chair back, going for nonchalant even though he felt anything but.

“So.” Tony said, not quite sure how to start the conversation.

“So…” Peter echoed back, not making it any easier.

“I know this is a lot, so I thought we should just take a little time out. A little breather. And you can tell me you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?” Peter’s eyebrows pulled together like he didn’t understand what Tony meant.

“Yeah. What’s going on in that noggin of yours?”

“I-I don’t know. This is all… This is crazy.”

“It is.” Tony agreed.

“I…I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“There’s nothing I want you to say. I just want you to talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling about this.”

“Um I don’t know. It’s a lot.” Peter shrugged.

“Care to expound on that a little?” Tony asked lightheartedly.

“I guess it’s kind of overwhelming, but it doesn’t really feel like it’s real at the same time? Does that make sense?”

Tony nodded, staying silent to encourage Peter to keep talking.

“And now there are all these people here and there were all those people waiting outside my school and I know everything’s going to change forever and…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Peter trailed off and met his eyes, and Tony hated the fear and desperation he saw there. “It’s just…a lot.” He repeated. “And I guess I didn’t really think this was going to happen. Or if it did, I didn’t think it would be this soon. And I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what to say to make it better, because there really wasn’t anything he could say, or do, to fix it. The horse was out of the barn. It was done. Over with. Now all they could do was deal with the fallout, and he knew it wasn’t going to be particularly pleasant for him or Peter.

“I’m sorry.” He settled on those two words even though they didn’t have the power to fix anything.

“It’s not your fault.” Peter shrugged.

“Still. I never wanted any of this for you.”

Peter hung his head and picked at the fraying hem on one his sleeves. The kid had a closet full of expensive, brand new, clothing but for some reason it seemed like he always chose to wear whatever he had that was tattered or fraying.

“What’s going to happen now?” Peter asked, looking up at him again.

“Now I’m going to go meet with all those people out there and try to come up with a game plan.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means first I’m going to find out how all this got out and how much everyone actually knows.”

“Ok.”

“And then I’m going to draft a statement to read at a press conference I’m guessing Pepper has already scheduled, probably to start within the next hour.”

“Really?” Peter seemed surprised.

Tony nodded.

“What are you going to say?”

“Depends on what the media has already spilled the beans on and how good their sources are. If they don’t have any proof you’re my son, and it’s just conjecture, then there might be some wiggle room and I may be able to spin this a different way, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I’m guessing they have some solid sources if it’s already out there like this, since everyone knows how much I like to sue for slander.”

Peter snorted.

“So, how about this? You sit tight in here and I’ll go deal with all of this, and as soon as I know more about the plan, I’ll let you know, ok?”

“Ok.” Peter agreed softly.

Tony hummed and drummed his fingers along the chair back as he studied his son. He hated the idea of leaving him alone right now, but he knew he didn’t have any other choice. He had to go deal with all of this, and he didn’t want to bring Peter along and subject him to everything that entailed. That would only make it worse.

It was a no win situation. As soon as he left, his kid was going to be on his computer or his phone googling himself, and he’d start falling down the proverbial rabbit hole. As a media veteran, Tony knew self google was never a good idea, but he could only guess at what was being said and written about his kid. He hadn’t had any time to check yet, so he couldn’t even prepare Peter for it. He definitely wasn’t winning any parenting awards today.

“Listen, I’m going to do something, and you’re not going to like it, but you have to trust me that it’s in your own best interest right now, all right?”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. Yeah, this wasn’t going to go over well.

“FRIDAY be a dear and restrict Peter’s TV, phone, and internet access until further notice.”

“What? No!”

“Just,” Tony said as he held up a hand, “let me deal with this stuff first, and then we’ll deal with the rest of it together. Ok?” He tried for calm even as a storm cloud passed over Peter’s face. At least it was better than the sick, pinched look he’d had ever since all this went down. Silver lining.

“You’re not being fair.” Peter protested.

“I know.” He agreed and Peter didn’t seem to know what to do with that easy admission.

“So I’m just supposed to stay locked in my room alone with nothing to do until you come back?” Peter asked skeptically.

“No. Of course not. You have plenty to do.” He gestured to the partially finished Y-wing Lego set, the stacks of DVDs, and the video game consoles.

“You just said I couldn’t use the TV.” Peter huffed.

Tony sighed. “FRIDAY, Peter can use the TV for watching movies and playing video games, but nothing else, capiche?”

“Yes Boss.”

“There. All good. And you’re not going to be alone. I’ll send you some company.”

Peter screwed up his face like he wasn’t quite sure whether that was a good or a bad thing.

“And I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He said as he stood and ruffled Peter’s hair, smirking as Peter tried in vain to straighten it back into place.

On his way out, Tony paused at the door to turn and look at his kid. Peter had a desolate expression pasted across his face as he stared straight ahead at nothing.

“Hey.” Tony said to get his attention. As soon as Peter made eye contact with him, he said solemnly, “It’s going to be ok.”

“I know.” Peter mumbled and gave him a ghost of a smile, but Tony could see the truth in his eyes. His son didn’t believe him. Tony always knew he was too smart for his own good. Just like his old man.

“I love you.” Tony said with a soft intensity. Maybe he couldn’t keep the world from crashing down around them, but he could love his son. Always. It was one of the easiest things he’d ever done.

“I love you too.” Peter said back and that finally got a real smile out of him. It gave him some hope that maybe this would all turn out ok.

The door closed behind him with a click, and he made his way back out to the living room. Pepper, along with the rest of his SI team, had left and were probably waiting for him in the conference room, but the room was far from empty. Apparently none of the Avengers had wanted to go back to their quarters. The show of concern both irked and warmed him at the same time. Regardless, he didn’t have time to chit chat. Except for the one thing he had to do.

“Hey birdbrain.” He said as he spotted Clint sitting in one of the oversized chairs in the corner of the room. “Do you mind hanging with Peter? I told him I’d send someone in to keep him company.”

“Sure.” Clint agreed easily.

Tony gave him a nod of thanks and made his way toward the elevator.

“Tony.” Steve said from where he and Natasha were standing in the direct path to the elevator, obviously waiting for him.

Tony stopped in front of him and raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Steve to spit out whatever it was he wanted to say.

“How’s Peter doing?” Steve asked, concern crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

Tony sighed. He had no idea how to answer that question. “He’s…dealing.”

Steve nodded as if he understood everything Tony wasn’t saying.

“Well, if that’s it, I have to go figure out how to deal with this disaster.” Tony said after a few seconds had passed and it didn’t seem like Steve was going to say anything else.

He took a step away but Steve reached out to grab his arm. “Wait. We want to come with you.”

Tony turned and frowned. “You want to come with me where?”

“To the conference room.”

Tony just blinked. “Why?”

“Maybe we can help.”

His face must’ve shown his skepticism because Natasha added, “We care about Peter too.” As if Tony had ever doubted that fact.

“Fine.” He must’ve acquiesced too easily given the looks of surprise on Steve and Natasha’s faces. But he had neither the time nor the energy to argue, and if they wanted to spend their time being tortured in a meeting, then that was their prerogative. “Let’s go.”

Steve and Natasha followed silently as he continued on his way toward the conference room. The truth was, he didn’t even know what kind of shitstorm awaited him, but the look on Pepper’s face when he’d stepped into the penthouse had clued him in to the fact that it was bad, along with the dozen or so PR employees milling about with their cellphones attached to their ears and their faces buried in their laptops. Thinking about it made his heart thrum a rapid staccato in his chest. Usually he didn’t care about his image, or whatever the media said, but this was different. This time it was his kid. He couldn’t help but care.

As he approached the glass walled conference room, he could see everyone waiting for him. He’d never gone into a meeting so wholly unprepared. After he’d gotten the news, he’d gone straight to his kid. He hadn’t taken the time to check any media outlets to see what was being said, so besides what he’d already been told, he honestly had no clue what he was dealing with yet. He gripped the handle of the conference room door and took a bolstering breath. It was time to go find out.

#unforeseen dangers #ch 9

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eternalstann · 4 years

Text

Celebrity

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: swearing?? Flufff

Summary: You and Tom just so happen to each other’s celebrity crushes 🥰

"Y/N, Y/N!" The photographers called out as you walked along the red carpet. You loved your job but the photographers and paparazzi were endlessly annoying. It was your third VMA's. You'd been a very successful singer for a while now, but this year you'd done your first big movie. You'd gotten nominated for 4 awards. You gave one last smile before walking into the building. Your manager walking to your side immediately.

"You're performing at 10:15 so enjoy the show while you can- I'll come get you around 9:30. You're sitting in the front row. We wanted to push the fact that you're focusing on acting right now so we sat you next to other actors." He glanced at his phone, "Brie Larson on your left and - Tom Holland on your right." You tried to hold in your excitement at the names he said. You were a huge fan of Marvel movies, so to sit next to Captain Marvel and Spiderman?! You were ecstatic. "Thank you Donovan" you spoke, kissing him on the cheek before walking off to mingle.

You snuck behind your friend Shawn Mendes when you saw him slapping up Drake. "Omg my two favorite Canadians!" You joked, hugging Shawn and then Drake. "Y/N, you look incredible" Shawn spoke, gripping your waist and taking in your appearance. "Like a snack" Drake added, snatching you from Shawn and twirling you around. "Thank you guys! And a snack?! Y'all look like full course meals and dessert" They both laughed at your comment. "So what's the moves for tonight mamacita?" Drake asked and you smirked, "You already know, everyone back at my place for the after party" you exclaimed, already excited. "Aye!" They both cheered in unison. It was very well known you threw the best parties in Hollywood as of late. "Text me and let me know if you need anything love" Shawn hugged you again, and told him you would before walking to your seat.

You felt eyes on your back, but when you turned around there was no one there.

Little did you know your seat neighbor Tom Holland had watched your whole interaction. He was chatting with Jake Gyllenhaal, Jacob and his brother Harry when he saw you. "Holy shit, that's Y/N" Jacob whispered, pointing over at you. "Every song she makes is an absolute banger! Tom go introduce us" Harry joined in. "No fucking way she's literally talking to Drake, I can't go over there" Toms heart ached watching you giggle with the two men. He'd literally never spoken to you, but he'd developed quite the crush on you. He watched all your interviews, and loved your music. You made him feel like he was in elementary school again. "Just go!" Jake exclaimed, shoving him in your direction.

Tom stumbled before catching his stride and following behind you. He didn't know if he should jog to catch up with you, or do an awkward speed walk, so he just kept his normal pace. He mentally kicked himself when he didn't make it to you before you got to your seat. He tried to causally walk past you as you sat down, but did a double take and tripped over his own feet when he saw his face on the chair beside you. Tom literally wished the floor would swallow him up so he could disappear forever when he hit the ground in front of you.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?" You ask the man laying at your feet, and you could hardly contain your excitement when you realized it was none other than Tom fucking Holland. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine" he insisted, pushing himself up with the help of your extended arm. Once he's off the ground and in his chair you introduce yourself. "Hey, I'm Y/N" you beam at him, turning your body to face him. "I know who you are, I think everyone does" he laughs, reaching out his hand for you to shake. You ignore his cue, pulling him in for a hug. "You smell really nice" he murmurs and it was your turn to laugh. "Thank you; it's so nice to meet you!" You tell him and he shakes his head. "Me?! It's nice to meet you! I'm a huge fan" he expresses and your heart races, he's a fan?

The next twenty minutes turn into a compliment competition; the two of you just spewing nice things to each other and laughing. You even joke through the start of the show, Brie shushing the two of you which only makes you laugh harder. "What are you doing tonight?" You ask him while a presenter was rambling on about something. "Nothing, why?" He quips back and he can feel himself start to sweat, were you going to ask him out?

"and the winner of the best collaboration award.....Y/N and Drake for Rewind!"

You were caught completely off guard, you and Tom both look at each other in shock. "That's you, get up there!" He exclaims, a wide smile on his face. He stands with you and walks you to the stage, he hands you off to Drake at the steps and you thank him. You reach the microphone and stand in front of the huge crowd, Drake next to you and begin to talk. "Wow, um, I really wasn't expecting this-" you cringe in your head, everyone says that- "but thank you all so much! We truly have the best fans in the world. Your support is unmatched and I love you all so much!" You cheer raising up your moon man and stepping aside to let Drake talk. You weren't even really listening to what he was saying, all you could focus on was Tom standing there staring at you with a face full of admiration. You didn't want to be corny but you were positive you were in love with him. And he looked really good. Like you wanted to tie him up keep him all to yourself good.

Next thing you know your being escorted off the stage and you hug your manager backstage. "Congratulations" he tells you and thank him, before turning to make your way back to your seat. "Girl where are you going? It's 9:26, you need to start getting ready" you sigh, you loved performing but you wanted to go back with Tom. You scroll through your Instagram while getting your hair done and see Brie Larsons story, you click on it. You smile at the selfie the two of you took. What you weren't expecting though was to see a video of you and Tom laughing together with the caption "get a room🤣🥴". You immediately go to your own profile and begin to go through your tagged pictures. A lot of you in your dress on the red carpet, screen caps of you and drake accepting the award and then boom; you and Tom. You click on reposts and screenshots of the video and read some of the captions.

'Yessss Y/N get that superhero dick!'

'Omg they look so good together- we have no choice but to stan'

'Ew bye he better stay away from the queen'

'and I oop-'

'Tom shooting his shot 👀'

'Thank you Brie Larson this is the content we deserve'

“She always fuck with white boys smh”

And so it begins you you think to yourself. You realize you never even followed Tom, on your real account at least. Only your account you use to lurk, so you press the button the blue button. Tom doesn't leave your mind the rest of the time you spend getting ready. You don't think about anything besides Tom until the time you start performing. And even then, you can't help but look for him in the crowd.

Your performance goes almost perfectly, you have the best adrenaline rush afterwards. But once again you're sat back in the hair and makeup chair. You're not gonna lie you probably needed it after how much you were sweating on stage. They bring out your dress, but it's a different one. A short backless white dress, much different from your earlier gown. "Donovan what is this?" You ask your manager. "Your dress for the party. We have to go make sure everything is all set- and yes I know you wanna go see your little boo thing Tom but we don't have time!" He replies, motioning for you to put on the dress. You groan and slip it on before following him out to the car waiting outside.

You get back to your house, doing a quick walk through to make sure everything is in place. Taste testing the food and liquor. You knew tonight was going to be crazy. Everyone would be amped up from the awards and live performances, you were starting to get excited. You were proud of your party throwing skills- until you realized you never got the chance to invite Tom. "Shit!" You shout, actually face palming. You pull out your phone and try to figure out the best way to get a hold of him. You text Zendaya- she would definitely have his number. Seven minutes go by with no response, the party starts in less than an hour. "Fuck it.." you mutter, opening Instagram and typing out a DM to Tom,

'Hey Tom, I'm throwing a party tonight and I would love for you to come. You can bring whoever you want. Hope to see you there!'

So basic, but it'd have to do. You didn't wanna look too thirsty or something. You sent the address in a separate message. You didn't even notice your leg bouncing up on down in anticipation, waiting for him to respond. You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your door opening and closing, then voices. It was Shawn, Drake and some of their friends. "Hey guys" you chirp and they come over to greet you. "Do either of you guys know Tom Holland?" You ask and they raise they're eyebrows. "No 'how are you?' Or anything first?" Drake would laugh you would just rolled your eyes, "I'm serious!"

"Spider-Man? No I don't know him, but we follow each other on Instagram" Shawn spoke. “Ughh you guys are no help-“ you were cut off by the sound of your phone dinging. It was Tom! You take a deep breath before opening the message.

“Oh I’ll absolutely be there, see you soon love. Thanks for the invite xx”

You could feel yourself swooning and let out a little squeal. “He’s coming!” You inform your guests before the doorbell rang again. You go to open it and this time there’s a multitude of people waiting to come in - not to mention the linebof black cars and limos in the round-about dropping off even more guests. Bella & Gigi Hadid, Niall Horan, Halsey, ASAP Rocky & Big Sean, Normani and more. You hug everyone who comes in, joking with Sean about his song playing through the speakers. You drink and talk with everyone, but you can’t help but keep glancing at the door. You were really waiting for one person. After half an hour you finally settle in, maybe he wasn’t coming.

You’re sitting on the couch, on Bella’s lap pretending to listen to Lewis Capaldi talk about how nervous he is for his U.S tour. Your attention is drawn to the door though when you hear a familiar laugh. “Tom!” You exclaim, unable to hide your excitement immediately going over to him. He hugs you and you wish he’d never let go. He does though before introducing you to his guests. “This is my brother Harry, and this is my friend Jacob” he informs you and you smile at both of them before embracing them as well. “It’s so great to meet you! Make yourselves at home, can I get you some drinks?” You inquire, gesturing towards the kitchen. “They got it” he spoke whisking you away.

“Listen, Y/N, I know you hear this all the time but I think you’re an amazing woman and I’d love to take you out sometime”

“I’d love that Tom!”

________________

PT 2 HERE!

lmaooo what a shitty ending, but I feel like this has potential to be a series but idk. I like Y/N and I like kind of shy Tom 🤧

Love you all, feel free to hmu ❤️

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland preference #thomas stanley holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #peter parker #spiderman #marvel #fanfiction

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

dawn ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : runaway! au; demon!au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 10k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : it seems like everyone has their own guardian angel, everyone but you because you’ve given up on Jesus the moment you come down to Lee Minho’s level and shake hands with the Devil.

one.

Your dad is definitely not gonna approve of you hanging by the bar alone after midnight.

It all happened too fast, and you don’t even know where you’re going next. After a call from your manager, which you almost fell asleep as he rambled about boring paperwork, until he dropped the bomb. He said he was sorry for what he’s gonna say next and turned out the label wanted to cut you loose. The entire universe was completely shattered right in front of your eyes. You were utterly speechless when the line went dead so long story short, you packed your bag and ran away.

Like a coward.

You stare blankly at the half-empty glass of Martini in your hand before chuckling lowly. Because life is a little son of a bitch, who’s born with the power to pull on everyone’s strings as if people are a bunch of puppets for whatever gods up there to entertain themselves. Getting signed into a music production company right after your graduation swept your life over with joy. Your parents were… overwhelmed to say the least but they still wanted you to move to Seoul. Two years later, your life once again was flipped upside down because of a single phone call. They didn’t even bother to call you in and meet face-to-face.

“Cheers to this motherfucker.” You almost laugh at your own miserable state but suppress it and down the whole glass in one go. “Another one.” You tell the barista absently and he just sighs before starting to mix your drink.

“Tough times ?” He leans over the counter and slides your drink across the wooden surface.

You gratefully take the glass, words slurred between hiccups. “You have no fucking idea.” Your eyes travel down from his defined features gleaming under the neon light to the name tag hanging off his white dress shirt. It reads ‘Kim Woojin’. You shake your head to lure the weariness away while your right hand reaching inside your pocket to pull out some cash.

But before you can place them on the table, Woojin stops you abruptly. “Keep a hold of them. This last one’s on me.” He sighs defeatedly. Judging by how you look right now, he must have thought that you’re some petty college girl who just got into a fight with her boyfriend and now you have nowhere to stay for the night so essentially, he wants to be certain that you’ll have enough money for a cheapass motel of some sort.

Woojin pats his wet hands onto the black apron wrapped around his hip. “You’ll need them more than I do.” And you feel kinda bad for him, partially because this place doesn’t serve cheap vodka like most bars, and partially because you’re now a somewhat burden to the bartender. “Listen, no matter how much bad shit happens, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Besides, looks like that punk over there has already had his eyes on you the whole time.” He winks at you playfully before walking over to his coworker at the other side of the counter.

Speaking of the Devil… literally, not even sarcastically, a hollow presence seems to come into sight the moment you place your lips on the rim of the glass. You automatically reach your hand backwards only to find exactly what you’re looking for. “Do not touch me.” You deadpan, normally you would have felt bad by now upon your sudden discourtesy but unfortunately you’re not in the mood to be kind today. Hearing his melodic chuckle, you yank his hand away rather harshly, the coldness of his touch still chills you to the bone.

“Why so sad, bunny ?” He moves over to sit down on the nearby wooden bench, lips curled into a devilish smirk. Out of 7 billion people on this glorious plant, he chooses to pester a mundane mortal like you. Out of 365 days of the year, he chooses to visit you on the worst day of your life. Lee Minho is worse than Lucifer, it’s official.

Not enjoying your dull state, he cocks a brow at you. “You’re jobless because that stupid label doesn’t need you anymore. And now what ? Are you gonna be petty and depressed about it for the rest of your life ? Because if so, you’ll have a really shitty life Y/N. Do you really want your demons to come out and conquer the path ahead like it’s their fucking playground ?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Said a demon himself.”

“Then aren’t humans the closest things that we have to demons alive ?” Minho almost snickers at your suggestive remark, but he wouldn’t admit that it did sting a bit. After all, he is a demon, an epitome of a creature that’s second to Lucifer and his descendants generation, highly worshipped and exceptionally feared. And he’s low-key impressed that you didn’t throw yourself out the window when he stepped out of a wisp of black smoke the day you two first encountered.

You on the other hand didn’t know that he was too utterly soft for you to actually erase your memories. From then on, he would visit you occasionally at the godly hour when you’re close to kicking yourself in the process of composing or when you accidentally fucked up something. ‘Til this day, you still don’t know whether his concern for you is pure sincerity or he just finds your first world problems very amusing. You can’t tell either way.

Taking another sip of your drink, you groan slightly at the slight burn in your throat from the strong alcohol. “I mean ... fair point.” Your lips pursed unknowingly. “I don’t know Minho… I think I must have done something fucking messed up to be kicked out of the game like that. I wasn’t even thinking straight, you know, just packed my stuff and drove downtown. Ugh now I feel like shit.”

The demon in front of you glares at the glass of Martini coldly. He’s not letting you finish that shit after who knows how much alcohol that Woojin has permitted you to drink. “Do you think that overcoming cowardice is easy ? If it was that easy, everyone would go outside to get some fresh air, smell some flowers, meet new people; not fucking hide behind their screens and whatnot while talking trash about others like a bunch of scaredy-cats.” Minho spats, swiftly taking your drink away before you gulp it again.

Funny enough, you’re sitting at a bar with a demon, who’s obviously so done with your shit, but also the one that you have least expectations for listening and giving you advice. Just like how that one song goes.

Well, I shook hands with the devil

Down on the south side

And he bought us both a drink

With a pad and a pencil sat by his side

I said, "Tell me what you think".

Except that Minho didn’t buy you a drink, he actually stole yours.

“I may not know much about your world, but I’m confident that you’re very talented and passionate about what you’re doing. I saw how much effort you put into your work, staying up after midnight, heck, you barely got any sleep when you’re still working for that shitty company. I saw how much you care, Y/N and I don’t give two fucks about how much you’re doubting yourself because you’re so much more than that. I know you got this, you’re as stubborn as a human being can be, you’re not gonna let a tiny cut or bruised knee hold you back, are you ?”

You shake your head slightly, starting to acknowledge his words. You don’t get why you never noticed this but for a demon, Minho gives really good advice. In spite of his cocky personality because he thinks that he has every right to sass every human being out whenever wherever he wants to, his company always makes you feel fuzzy inside. It’s almost heartwarming but that makes no sense because demons are nowhere near ‘sweet and caring’.

A strange look flashes in his eyes when his eyes meet yours but before you can properly react, it vanishes. “You’re not drinking ever again… at least not for the time being.” He tells you off with his eyes before chugging the whole glass. Woah, good shit, he admits internally. And he’s mildly surprised that you’re taking this better than he’d thought. Other young producers would have been bawling their eyes out by now, not talking to a creature from the underworld.

“Alcohol helps me sleep.” You pout slightly, feeling the need to actually pay Woojin back when you get paid again. Oh wait… but you’re practically unemployed. “Insomnia is painstakingly arbitrary, like a needle that’s constantly pricking my spine whenever I’m trying to get comfy in bed. Guess I’m not sleeping tonight, thanks a lot.” You huff and lean over on the wooden counter, cheek pressed against your left upper arm.

Although Minho thinks that you look ridiculously cute right now with tinted pink cheeks and messy hair, he’s still not gonna buy you another drink. “They do say that insomnia is just another word for chit chatting with the demons during bedtime. And you’ve already wolfed down three fucking Vodka Martinis by the time I teleported here, aren’t you concerned about the stupid hangover tomorrow morning ? I swear to Lucifer— are you even listening to me right now ?”

Minho asks in disbelief when you stay unresponsive. The demon peels his eyes away from the empty glass and turns his head only to find you already fallen asleep, like a bear in hibernation. Your eyes are closed shut, chest heaving up and down rhythmically as you drift away from the cruel reality and into dreamland. Truth be told, you tend to fall asleep whenever he’s lecturing you a lot, and that gives him an excuse to stay for a little more than he should.

two.

Hangover hits you with a bang, almost knocks you out cold. But it’s not going to let you pass out, at least not before you start regretting the amount of alcohol that you chugged last night. Your eyes are still screwed shut, refusing to flutter open as your head throbs uncontrollably. Usually you would have been awake by now since you’re dumb enough to have white curtains instead of colored ones which helps the sunlight goes right through your apartment.

But something seems off today because there’s nothing that’s bothering your eyes. And you would definitely sleep in if it wasn’t for the strange feeling beneath your skin. Wait a second… A worrisome feeling runs down your spine, causing your eyes to open. You look down and check your clothes properly, everything stays the same except for… hold on, since when did you have a silky black sheet ?

“You woke up, finally. Be grateful that you’re on time for breakfast.” Someone’s voice booms in the distance when your eyes adjust themselves on the foreign surroundings. The studio apartment in front of you has your jaw dropped to the floor. Minimal yet modern pieces of furniture, a fully equipped kitchenette and an enormous window that gives you a breathtaking view of the whole city. This isn’t your apartment, is it ?

You groan loudly before pushing yourself off the bed and shiver slightly when your feet come in contact with the cold floor. “Tylenol’s on the table, you’re welcome.” Minho says nonchalantly as he has his back against you. You drag yourself to the dining table and pop the pills into your mouth before downing the glass of water beside them.

Yeah, no, you’re not drinking ever again.

“What are you doing ?” You ask him in a raspy tone and sniff your nose continuously at the aroma that’s filling the entirety of the apartment. Minho stays silent, deciding to fully concentrate on his current task. When you suddenly approach him from behind and place your head lazily on his shoulder, he almost drops the pot of freshly made soup. His chest swells a bit whenever you get close to his body, whether it is because it’s all in his head or just you having that kind of effect on him, he dares not to know.

“Tsk, you’re in my way, shoo.” He sneers, motioning for you to move so that he can transfer the pot over to the table in peace. Minho quickly scoops the thick liquid into a smaller bowl and gives you a look. You just stare at the hearty soup in complete awe, mouth slightly watered. No one has ever cooked for you before, much less a pot full of hangover soup. And you would be lying if you said that you’re not touched right now because you feel like it’s been forever since you’ve had homemade food.

Lee Minho never changes, still ever so caring.

He sits down at the table and pushes the bowl towards you. “Eat this and write me a 1000 words essay for instant feedback later.” Without a word, you automatically take a spoonful into your mouth, almost choking because of how hot it is. “Dude, it’s not 1945 anymore. If this goes on, you’re not gonna die from anything other than choking yourself.” He purses his lips at your eagerness, dabbing the excess soup away with a napkin on the corner of your lips.

After coughing furiously, you figure that your voice can finally function normally. “I didn’t know that you can cook, god this soup is everything.” In the next ten minutes, you finish inhaling the whole bowl as if you’ve walked through the desert, searching for an oasis for a week straight.

You’ve never let anyone cook for you other than your parents because one, none of your friends can cook, Changbin almost burnt your apartment down while Jisung came up with the idea to crack eggs with a knife; and two, you still remember a creepy story you once heard on a podcast vividly. Basically, there’s this girl who allowed her date to make her a meal on their very first encounter. She was hospitalized a week later, suspecting food poisoning but the test results came out as cannibalism. Yikes.

“Demons eat souls, not human flesh you paranoid bitch.” Minho reads your thoughts in a matter of seconds before taking his wooden spoon and smack you on the head. He looks unimpressed right now, he really does because he’s so over your delusional ass from binge-watching way too many investigation related shows at three a.m. “They’re not even that tasty, I’d rather have a boring sandwich.”

You scoff at him, rubbing the spot where he hit previously. “You can’t have mine then, it’s too dark for you.”

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” He almost grit, lips pressed into a thin line.

You stand up from the wooden stool and carry the dishes over to the newly renovated silver sink. “This is your place ?” You ask while turning on the faucet to spray water all over the dirty bowl. “It’s really nice, not gonna lie. Just not as nice as mine.”

When you’re having your back against him, Minho looks somewhat guilty. What would Hyunjin say if he found out that his roommate brought a mundane mortal home and even made her a bowl of hangover soup ? “For the time being, it is.” Whatever, Hyunjin’s staying in Italy for a good two weeks anyway. With a little bit more effort of ridding off your human scent and reorganize some stuff, Minho can pretty much pass without being suspected. “And what do you expect ? That I’m gonna leave you at the bar where sketchy people are getting wasted ? FYI, a demon doesn’t necessarily have to own a place where it’s just full of miserable souls swimming around. I take my beauty sleep very seriously, actually, all of us do. Even Satan.”

You carefully line the dishes up on the white rack next to the sink and sighs. “Beauty sleep ? I don’t know her.” When you turn around to face Minho, his lips are slightly curled upwards. “What, Minho ?” You ask, slightly annoyed.

He props his head onto his palms and cocks his head to the side. “What will you do now ? Going home is a no-no, obviously, and I believe that your coworkers/best friends are flipping the whole city upside down looking for you so your apartment isn’t really an option anymore. What’s next Y/N ?”

You think for a bit and hum. “Technically I’m running away ...so…why not make the best out of it ?” Then, something clicks and your eyes lit up in mischief. “I have an idea. It’s genius, a fucking genius idea.”

Minho immediately shakes his head furiously, looking like he’s encountering a panic attack. “Hate it.”

“You love it, don’t even lie to yourself.”

“It’s humiliating.”

You reach your hands inside your pocket to look for your keys. “Too late.” That’s when Minho knows that he doesn’t have a say in this.

three.

“You know what’s more fun than this ?” Minho supports himself on his knees as his breaths come in short, he feels like he’s gonna throw up. Being on a rollercoaster is most definitely scarier than attending a meeting with the Underworld Authority. He still doesn’t get why humans enjoy torturing themselves as a form of pure entertainment when they can do something like educate themselves by reading more books. “Hearing Lucifer play the fiddle, the Devil plays it damn good and a fun demon to hang around. He’s a real entertainer, trust me. Just hire a lawyer beforehand if you’re signing any contract with him.”

Minho’s making it sound like you’re planning on having ‘a thing’ with Lucifer meanwhile he practically follows you everywhere, watches your every move and you think that’s close enough for an example of the infamous slavery contract.

You run a hand through your hair and exhale in satisfaction. Since middle school, you haven’t really got a chance to come to amusement parks before. You’re far too caught up with the new tempo to life these days. “Come on, it’s not that bad. It ain’t my fault when you can’t teleport us both to somewhere further.” You almost laugh at his current state; disheveled hair, beads of sweat rolling down on his forehead, and he looks as pale as a ghost like he just saw one. Not like he’s terrified of ghosts or anything, actually, he might be scared of heights.

“You can’t teleport with me for fuck’s sake, even when I want to, you’ll end up disintegrating into dusts forever because your mortal body doesn’t have enough energy to recollect itself piece by piece.” Minho grits and shakes his head slightly to adjust the messy mop of hair on his head. He looks really cute, you think. Like a cat that’s trying to clean itself but can’t quite reach the itchy spot.

Upon your stubbornness because he knows too well that you just wanna see him being drowned in misery, Minho can’t help but roll his eyes. “And can you get any dumber ? You have a fucking Range Rover and a valid license. Technically, there’s no law against driving with a demon sitting in your vehicle. Ugh, I really should have left you at the bar last night.”

Right when you’re about to snap back at him with a witty comment, your phone buzzes loudly. And your eyes are about to jump out of their sockets the moment you open up the device. There are more than thirty missed calls, from your family and friends along with countless texts filled with nothing but concern. Changbin and Jisung both work under the same label as you so you assume that your family already knew everything. Now you feel guilty for running away so spontaneously because after all, you do have people who are always willing to be there for you.

[ 3:25pm ]

jisung | dude, I’m outside, open up

jisung | we know everything already

changbin | Y/N I’m bringing food over, you’re gonna binge-watch Netflix with us whether you want to or not

[ 3:27pm ]

jisung | uhm, hello ? Y/N ?

changbin | we’re breaking in if you’re not coming out, FYI

[ 3:35pm ]

jisung | you know I have the keys right, we’re gonna go in

changbin | this isn’t fucking funny

jisung | stop being such a stubborn piece of shit

[ 3:36pm ]

jisung | Y/N where the fuck are you ?!

changbin | …. look, just go home, your family are worried sick

[ 3:45pm ]

jisung | at least call me back ?

changbin | whatever you’re planning on doing, don’t do it

[ 9:23pm ]

chan | call me, I’m not going anywhere

Sensing your racing thoughts and seeing your tense posture, Minho swiftly takes your phone away from your hand and drops it into his pocket. The last thing he wants to see is you curled up into a ball and cry alone in the bathroom. “You’re so rude ? What kind of human are you, Y/N ? This is how you’re treating your date ?” He huffs, arms crossed in front of his chest like a little kid. But wait, a date ?

“This is not a date, Lee Minho, stop flirting with me.” You knit your brows together in confusion when his eyes twinkle. What’s with his demon nature being on steroids right now ? “Give me my phone.” You order.

“It’s a date when I say that it’s a date.” Minho reaches his hand outwards and links his fingers with yours. He quickly narrows the proximity between the two of you, backing you up against a wall. Utterly speechless, you find yourself dumbfoundedly melting into his touch. How can a demon possess such radiant warmth and tenderness ? Is it all just a facade or does he seem more human when he’s around you, you can’t tell either way. But what you do know is that when you relax a bit and let him hold your hand properly, it fits like a glove.

Minho cocks his head and cracks a smile. For the longest time, you’ve never noticed anyone looking at you with so much sincerity and affection. Maybe it’s all in your head after all. “What now ? You wanna watch a movie and put our hands into the popcorn at the same time to see what’ll happen or nah ?” You question, but it feels more like a question towards yourself.

Minho chuckles lightheartedly. “You’re so damn predictable Y/N.”

The rest of the night is absolutely magical. You feel like you’re acting in one of those One Direction’s music videos that’s not the typical ‘too good to be true’ kind. It really does remind you a lot of ‘Night Changes’ when Minho almost slips while holding onto you like a cat that just came in contact with water. Meaning, if it weren’t for your mediocre ice-skating skills way back from middle school, everything would have been exactly like the music video itself, in which you don’t mind. Because it’s Lee Minho, because his warm presence is something you never knew you needed in your life, because you always have this sense of comfort and happiness even when he starts cursing so loudly that your ears bleed. Demon or not, him being him is truly a blessing already.

Minho says. “I told you it’s humiliating.” He links your hand into his before stuffing it inside his pocket and drags you away from the front entrance. His hand’s got a lot warmer from staying inside his coat for so long and that makes him more human than ever. In which, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You freaking loved it, you can’t tell me otherwise.” You shake your head in denial.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes for the tenth time. “Let’s go home.”

four.

The next day, Minho somehow convinces you to drive back to your apartment for packing. Not for running away this time, he’s had enough of that shit. But for a trip back to your hometown instead ( you really should have gone deeper into his ‘let’s go home’ from last night ). The flight will take approximately ten hours or more so he only gives you two hours to pack before leaving. You basically spend half an hour picking out clothes from the messy walk-in closet and another ninety minutes to fit all of them into your suitcase while having a mental breakdown inside your head.

Because gosh, what would they think ?

You’ve scared them all shitless for the last two days and now you’re just gonna show up at the front door and go “Hey, I’m done being miserable now.” ? Sounds like a pretty solid plan but you doubt that your mom’s not planning to beat you up with her favorite broom that’s covered in nothing but dust and spiderwebs. Not to mention, your brother is definitely gonna grill your ass for causing such a commotion in your family. You can already imagine him waiting for you at the foyer with crossed arms, getting ready to lecture the heck out of you.

“Did you lose your favorite pair of shoes or something ?” Minho suddenly fades into your room, making you jump slightly. You’ve got used to his particular ways of intruding your personal space but the demon never seems to fail at surprising you.

You glare at him. “Look who’s being rude now.”

Minho purses his lips. “I didn’t know humans were notorious for being terribly indecisive when it comes to their belongings.” He almost sneers, leaning back against your bedroom wall.

“That’s not the problem.” Yeah, that’s not the problem because not every human takes pain in packing their stuff, it’s just a ‘you’ problem. “I’m coming home after scaring the shit out of my loved ones. I wouldn’t blame them if they hated me, it’s just that I don’t know what to say. What do I say in situations like this ? School didn’t teach me that.” A sigh escapes your lips as you kick your suitcase towards the door. And you’re kinda glad that Changbin and Jisung left your apartment last night, specifically when you called them at one a.m. because you were driving back with a demon right next to the shotgun window.

Minho politely grabs the doorknob and pushes the door open for you. Now that was a first. You almost smile at his out-of-nowhere kind gesture. Normally, he would have teleported to the front porch and complained about how you’re always taking so long. “Hurry up dumbass, we don’t have all day.” He raises his brow at your thoughts.

“Tsk, you’re not the one who’s driving.”

Minho can’t drive, sadly. Partially because he doesn’t see the point in moving around in a fucking box with four wheels when he’s fully capable of teleporting from one place to another within a snap of his fingers. And partially because he can’t afford erasing some cops’ memories because they might have some kind of innovative technology that’ll automatically record when things go down. Another reason is that he might or might not chug a whole bottle of whiskey while driving just because he feels like it.

“It’s cold, roll down the windows.” Minho reminds you when he enters your car because gosh, you always love to keep the temperature at a minimum of 71 degrees even when it’s freezing outside. His cold-hearted demon ass is quaking because another cold case remains another mystery for the entirety of humanity. “You’d be a badass demon, just saying. I’m surprised that you’re still alive at this point.” He shakes his head in disapproval and leans forward to turn off the AC. Not because he’s cold but he’s afraid that you’ll actually freeze to death before you two can even make it to the airport.

You kick the brake when the first red light occurs. “Just admit it, you’re cold. If anything, you can always hold my hand.”

“Okay,” He blinks numerous time at your reply. When did you become such a brat ? You’ve been acting like him these past few days and now he knows how it feels like. Woah, he does act like an old, bitchy cat. “Who taught you that ?”

You say, sparing him a slight smirk. “You know, only the best of the best.”

“Just don’t act like that in front of your parents, will you ?” Minho scrunches his nose at your particular way of having a civil conversation. “You did tell your parents right ?”

You nod. “Yeah, I told them that I was gonna go home sooner or later. I even texted Chan— OH MY GOD,” You let out the loudest gasp whilst trying to make sharp turn at an intersection.

“What the fuck is wrong with you ?” He gasps in disbelief at your sudden outburst, holding onto the side of your car for dear life.

“I can’t just bring a demon home !” You cry out. “You’d be considered safe if it weren’t for my brother. He just happens to be home for break. God, do you know how protective he is when it comes to bringing a guy home ?!” One time, you asked your desk mate from highschool to do a project at your house and Chan didn’t even hesitate to put him on trial. Luckily, they talked things out pretty smoothly and became friends later. Now Felix’s probably the only guy who wouldn’t be thrown off a cliff for breathing in the same room as you.

Minho stares at you weirdly for a full twenty seconds, and that makes you think he’s mentally judging you, which he totally is. “Wouldn’t me being your boyfriend the best option then ?”

“Are you dumb, or are you dumb ?” You haven’t dated anyone since elementary school and the relationship didn’t even last a week. And now out of nowhere you’re just gonna bring a ‘boyfriend’ home after running away ? That’s practically equivalent to adding fuel to the fire and you doubt that Minho’s comprehend the situation correctly. That’s it, you’re officially letting all hell break loose from here. “Yeah, go ahead and be my boyfriend if you wanna sleep with the fishes.”

He throws a look at you. “Is that a challenge ?”

“Better not dress like that in front of my family then.” You glance at his bold choice of a silky wine colored dress shirt along with leather pants and combat boots. Can’t have him walking around looking like a celebrity now, can you ? Although he does look good in them… so annoying.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

However, Minho’s outfit is most definitely the least of your worries.

five.

“Don’t tell me that you thought this through because-“

Minho says in a hushed tone. “I did think this through, baby. Loosen up a bit.” A devilish smirk blooms on his lips as he tucks some loose strands of hair behind your ear. He really needs to stop doing that because you’re already a blushing mess. He switched out his usual clothes and went for a comfortable hoodie with some jeans and sneakers. You hate him even more now because the demon easily pulled off the perfect boyfriend look.

Grimacing, you slap his hand away. “I’m not your fucking baby. And keep your hands to yourself, will you ?” And with that, you turn on your heels and make a beeline towards the kitchen where everyone’s busy setting up the table, leaving him in the living room alone.

Minho unconsciously plops himself onto the white faux leather couch and looks around in awe. Your house sort of symbolizes you because it’s minimal in the best way with a white color scheme and the occasional colorful tiny details on some of the decorative pieces. He starts pondering about how you never told him anything about your family in Australia. And although you grew up in a pretty well-off household, you didn’t flaunt your wealth. That makes you much more admirable in his eyes because not everyone can keep their mouth shut for more than two seconds when it comes to money.

Truth is, when your parents saw Minho for the very first time, they totally freaked out and drove to the nearest supermarket to shop for more ingredients. Now the house is filled with the aroma of a variety of grilled meat, vegetables, seafood and rice. He finally understands why you’re always homesick because gosh, who wouldn’t miss this kind of homemade food ? Minho props his head onto his hand as he watches your hard-working back figure from the living room, arranging the dishes onto the dining table with a smile on your face. And that stirs something inside him, he just doesn’t want to know it yet.

And Berry - your very much spoiled dog - is absolutely terrified by his dark presence. She keeps barking whenever he tries to pick her up, then ends up whimpering in the corner later. “Berry, don’t be rude ! He’s no stranger to us now.” Your mom nags while looking at Minho with an apologetic look. “Minho, honey, come join us. There’s no need to be so formal.” She offers him a seat at your family’s table warmly and he can already see where you got your smile from.

When he beams at her words and quickly takes the seat right beside you, you secretly roll your eyes at him. “I didn’t know dogs were supposed to be scared of demons. This is so obvious.” As you continue to complain about how he’s not acting naturally and all in a small tone, your hand automatically reaches for the chopsticks and picks out some lamb loin chops onto his plate. Minho simply brushes your words off, muttering a quick ‘thanks babe’ before pressing a kiss on your cheek.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his action, immediately darting towards your family members else whom have already gathered around. But before you can react properly, your dad cuts you off. “How sweet of you two.” He shows that signature ‘dad smile’ which never fails to melt your heart. “Don’t they remind you of us when we were young, dear ?” He tells your mom.

“Certainly, I still remember how—“

“Uhm, so, how did you two meet ?” Your brother - Chan - who’s sitting across the table tries his very best not to gag and changes the topic before things get out of hand. Your dad used to tell you about his first encounter with your mom, their first date and etc.. as an alternative version for the regular bedtime stories session. Chan has known too much already.

“We met at a dinner through a mutual friend during her business trip to Paris. I knew she didn’t come from Europe so if I didn’t ask for her number then, we would never meet again.” Minho has already made up a story during the dreadfully long flight, now all he has to do is read outloud. Easy mode. “We kept in touch and eventually, I moved back to Korea to meet her and stayed with her since then.”

Chan hums as a response, he doesn’t hate Minho yet, you can tell. “Why didn’t you tell me about him, Y/N ? Dad was so close to talking to Felix’s parents about setting you two up.”

You gulp slightly to hide your nervousness. Under the table, Minho squeezes your hand in reassurance, and that gives you enough courage to explain slowly. “I didn’t want to freak you out with our long distance relationship. You might go nuts knowing that I’m dating a guy who I’ve only met once and he’s nearly six thousand miles away.” And setting you up with Felix ? You would never let that happen. Not in a million years. It makes you shiver just thinking about holding your highschool deskmate’s hand while walking down the aisle. “And dad, Lee Felix ? Really ? I would rather be single.”

Your dad laughs. “Come on, he’s a pretty decent boy. Too bad he’s traveling overseas right now or I might invite him over.”

“So, Minho,” Chan sips on his drink. “What do you do for a living ?” When you two arrived at the front door, he finds such little amount that Minho’s luggage holds a bit skeptical, as if your relationship and the idea of coming home happens overnight. And how he wears clothes pretty casual too for a first time meeting the parents but Chan knows better than to judge a book by its cover. However, he wants to make sure that your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t do drugs of any kind.

Minho doesn’t even hesitate. “I’m a dancer and owns a dance studio with my friend after when I flew back to Korea. I was in Paris for an internship over the summer.” You just sit there, blinking at him in disbelief like a total dumbass. Now you’re starting to wonder how it feels like to dance with the Devil. And if it weren’t for him kicking your leg under the table, your face would have given it away.

“Hmm, interesting.” Chan nods in acknowledgement. Well, at least he’s not unemployed… could have been worse.

Your mom advises thoughtfully as she walks over to the kitchen aisle and refills the plate of beef. “Oh, and be careful with the sauce for the lamb, it’s quite hot. If you’re not good with spicy food, just leave it out.”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I can handle spicy stuff pretty well.. unlike someone over here.” Minho glances over at you. You immediately gut him with your elbow, earning a low grunt followed by a lighthearted chuckle of your family members.

“Minho can handle spicy things only because he’s getting old. His taste buds are losing their senses.” Your comment is partially true because he once told you that he’s been around for quite awhile. Definitely a lot older than the new batch of demons. He stopped counting at some point but ensured you that it’s somewhere from fifteen thousand and twenty thousand.

Minho looks at your sternly as the corners of his lips curled up. You’re already low-key mortified of what he’s going to say. “If you’re gonna act like a brat for the rest of the night, I’ll have to make sure that your legs will lose their sense by tomorrow morning.” Yep, there it is. You’re so used to his flirtatious remarks to the point that they don’t faze you anymore but having your family witness this is another level of torture. Minho’s definitely the type of guy ( if he were an actual human being ) who can’t be bothered about publicity and would straight up kiss you in the middle of the street.

And it doesn’t help either when Chan just doesn’t laugh loudly at your ‘boyfriend’s’ less than appropriate joke, he’s also on his side. Along with your parents. “I like you, not everyone can make her shut up like that.” Your brother nods in approval, clapping happily like a seal. Your parents even supply unhelpfully. “Try to keep it down and use protection, okay kids ?” Is this what betrayal feels like ?

You feel so adopted at that moment.

six.

“What the hell are you doing here ?” You try to groan as quietly as possible when you find Minho creeping up to you in the living room. “What part of ‘you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch, wake up before everyone else then come back to my room later on’ couldn’t you understand ?” A compromise was almost made, and he fucking blew it.

He chuckles and looks at you dreamily. For a second there, you really thought that he was sleep-walking. His brown hair is in a bird nest, accommodated by a pair of plaid pants and white t-shirt. This prick never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You’re glad that at least he doesn’t sleep shirtless like your brother. It gives you major nightmares since middle school just by waking him up every morning.

“I can’t sleep on a foreign bed..” Minho pouts. He really can’t, especially when you’re not around. And he’s not risking the chance of one of your folks or Chan accidentally. barging into the room when he’s doing some voodoo shit either.

You huff tiredly and walk over to him, grabbing the pillow from his arms before throwing it on the couch along with your blanket. Well, lucky him, your parents just happen to love ginormous couches and you’re far too lazy to drag him back to your bedroom. “Come here.” You order after plopping yourself onto the soft surface, letting out a prolonged yawn. Minho takes a good ten seconds to look at you again. He can’t help but keep staring like a creep when you’re in an oversized t-shirt with shorts underneath, exposing your bare thighs. You’re too cute for your own good.

You say when he remains silent. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

He obediently nods, quickly settling down under the blanket. You two shuffle around for a bit until no one’s uncomfortable with less than a few inches away from each other. And when you decide to flip yourself over to face the wall, Minho gently pulls your back flush against his chest. Your eyes fly open at the sudden contact. “What-the-fuck-do-you-think-you’re-doing ?” You turn around and stare at him square in the eye.

Even in the dark, his eyes are gleaming with a demonic glint of silver. He beams innocently at your threatening tone. “Get comfortable ?”

“I mean…” You hesitate for a few seconds. Because you’d hate to admit but it does feel kinda nice having his warmth radiating off from underneath his thin shirt. It makes you feel fuzzy inside, more secure, more like you’re finally home. “If you don’t mind then…” You gather up every last bit of courage and energy to scoot yourself towards him, your arms snaking around on either side and hug his torso closer, your face buried in his chest.

And it takes every single strand of willpower for Minho to not jump and teleport to the nowhere. His breath starts to quicken when your body is practically attached to his. He didn’t expect this at all. It might be because you’re exhausted from the flight so you’re just far too sleepy to be conscious of your own actions. But anyhow, he’s not against the idea of having you in his arms like this. It makes him more relaxed knowing that you’re safe in his sound right here.

So Minho drapes one of his arms around your waist to hold you in place and the other underneath his head, straddling his legs with yours to keep them warm since you’re only wearing shorts. “Thanks for dinner, by the way.” He murmurs into your hair, taking in the scent of your familiar shampoo.

“If anything, you should be thanking my parents. They looked like they just saw Jesus when you first arrived.” You say and snuggle closer to him.

He chuckles, sending vibrations to the tip of your nose. “Admit it, your family’s in love with me. Even your brother isn’t half as bad as you made it sound. I think he would actually have nothing against our wedding.”

You make a face and lift your head upwards to look at him. “Dude, it’s just really good acting. Such a shame how the other Lee Minho gets the title of an actor when you’re over here stuck with being a demon.” If you’re being completely honest, you’re kinda scared right now. Because one, all of this is just a big play and when you fly back to Korea, it may seem like nothing has ever happened. And two, if this goes way too far, your family might disown you for ‘breaking up’ with Minho when he wasn’t even your boyfriend in the first place.

“Actually, I’d be glad to take the title of being your boyfriend instead.” And the thumping force inside your chest picks up the pace as you can feel your cheeks heating up. His simple acknowledgement makes you flustered, absolutely moonstruck. No one has ever said that to you before, well, partially because you’re super single but you can’t help but let those words affect you tremendously. “Where do you want to go for our honey—“

“We’re not getting married.” You hiss at him like a snake.

Minho draws a cat-like grin on his lips, mischief glistening in his eyes. “Nuh uh too late. I’ll consider you as my own from now on, Mrs. Lee.”

You reply flatly. “You talk a lot for a demon who treasures their beauty sleep. You’re not vampires and you don’t watch people in their sleep, do you ?” The only person Minho watches in their sleep is you, but he’s not saying that to your face. And that was one time, one-time.

Upon his silence, you raise a brow. “Wait, you do ?”

“Who I watch in their sleep is none of your business, Y/N.” He replies with flaming cheeks.

You giggle. “I knew it, you’re related to Edward Cullen.”

“No, not that bitch Edward !” Minho makes a disgusted face but can’t contain his laughter for long. God, what are you doing to him ?

seven.

You wake up with a cold sensation wrapping around your feet. With body shivering slightly, you instinctively nuzzle your head into the nearest heat source, retreating your legs deeper into the fuzzy blanket. Groaning, you shake your head slightly to shake the weariness away. This is why you hate long flights with a passion because you’re never not gonna be jet lagged for the rest of your life.

“Why do you always wake up so fucking early ?” Your eyes shoot open at the hoarse voice only to find Minho squinting his eyes at you sleepily with his bedhead and wrinkled shirt. He looks so human right now you can care less about the fact that you’ve just spent an entire night on your parents’ favorite couch with a creature from Hell. Definitely boyfriend material.

“My feet get cold easily in the morning, and that wakes me up.” You pout and hold his torso closer. Minho tries his best not to flinch when your arm brushes over his as the strangest warm feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. And you’re glad that he doesn’t snore and isn’t a messy sleeper. Just sleeps like the death, which makes sense. Unlike your best friend, Seo Changbin who sleeps like a fucking starfish with his four limbs wide open. Give him a king sized bed and he can still manage to have his blanket on the floor by the time the sun rises.

Minho runs a hand through the messy bird nest on his head which takes the breath right out of your lungs because it looks like those too good to be true shampoo commercials with people who have shiny, luminous hair. But those models spend hours on a wooden stool for their stylists to make it look like they didn’t even try but they’re not even close to Minho’s league because he needs none of that in order to look attractive.

Finally, he sighs. “Go back to sleep then.” He pulls the blanket down slightly to cover your feet completely and hugs your waist closer so that your upper body won’t be bothered by the morning breeze. “I’ll make breakfast later, what do your folks usually prefer ?”

You look up at him in awe. No one has ever offered such a sweet thing to do when they come over to your house. Not even your relatives ‘cause they’re far too busy bombarding you and Chan with questions about your personal lives rather than helping your parents out with washing the dishes after a meal is done. Minho might look cold and all but it’s all really just the typical demon facade that he’s trying to maintain. He’s actually really caring and thoughtful, you’ve found more sense of morality whenever you look into his eyes deeply than when you look at other people.

“Lee Minho is making breakfast for my family ? What’s this ? Is World War III coming ? Is the world hanging on the verge of ending ?”

He shakes his head at you in disapproval. “I just wanted to do something nice in return to last night’s dinner. Your parents really didn’t have to go all the way to the supermarket just because of me.” And he secretly enjoys seeing you munching happily on the food that he makes. How your cheeks are bunched up when you accidentally take too much of a bite, how your eyes light up in joy when you melt into the taste. He loves you for being you, for going all out without trying to act like a lady, eating quietly and shit.

You think for a bit. “They all have a big appetite, plus they’re not picky so anything will do. Just try to work with things in the fridge that you find promising ?”

“Oh okay.” Minho shrugs before leaning forward to press a kiss on your forehead. “Go back to sleep please, I beg. Jetlag is killing me, or else I’m gonna have to kiss you again and again until you get tired of me and doze off.”

With coral cheeks, you muster the calmest voice possible. “Is that a challenge ? Because if so, kiss me before I kick you off the couch.”

He smirks at you. “If you’re willing to.” As he leans in closer, you can feel your confidence level decreasing dramatically, your heart feels like it’s running on a treadmill endless. You’re no longer brave enough to keep eye contact so your eyes are screwed shut at some point, waiting for his lips to collide with yours.

Suddenly his phone buzzes obnoxiously on the coffee table, making you two pull away in a hassle. “Sorry, I gotta take this.” Minho says sheepishly as he sits straight up and grabs his phone. The apologetic smile on his face drops when he sees the caller’s ID. He swipes right to answer, placing the cool device close to his ear. “Yeah, Hyunjin ?”

“Hyung, you’re going too far. Come back.”

eight.

It’s been a few weeks later, and your family can’t stop gushing over how lucky you are to find a boyfriend like Minho.

You start getting daily voice messages from your parents, asking if you’re taking good care of yourself, if Minho’s treating you well, if anything’s been hard lately. Oh boy you sure regret running away before because your parents keep checking up on you every two hours. If not for Minho, they would have made you move back to Australia for who knows how long.

With that being said, Minho is obligated to move in with you. But you’re not complaining at all because cuddling with him is naturally carved into you like second nature. Even Jisung and Changbin didn’t bother to question why you start to have two mugs by the sink, two pairs of slippers by the shoe rack and a foreign smell of cologne all over your couch. They’ve probably figured it out that you got yourself ‘a man’ since the night that you came back to the apartment in such a rush.

And from then, you wonder why you’ve never considered having a roommate before. There are always really shitty excuses inside your head like : what if your roommate has some kind of questionable habits, what if they’re secretly a part of some mafia organization ? But really, it’s because he’s Lee Minho, because you’re too utterly soft for him. Nonetheless, you did learn a few things from spending more time with him rather than locking yourself up with work.

The feeling of having someone waiting for you to come home is beyond heartwarming. And you’ve also learnt to use your time and effort on someone else rather than just yourself. It actually feels really nice because his presence brings more than just a sense of comfort and happiness to you. There’s something about him that’s irreplaceable. As if he’s your soulmate, that one person who adores you to the moon and back, who’s willing to bring out the best in you and deal with you when you’re at your lowest.

But the whole concept of soulmate is still debatable because life isn’t just peaches and cream, it’s roses and thorns.

“Something’s bothering you, tell me.” You make the sharpest of a turn to the left to snap Minho back to reality. You don’t like when people keep ignoring your questions.

“Nothing’s bothering me.” He answers flatly. Obviously, he’s lying because he’s only spoken to you seven words maximum since you started the car. “Follow-the-GPS-to-reach-the-destination.” That’s it. No more. No less.

You scoff. “Something’s clearly bothering you. I don’t need your mind reading crap to know what you’re thinking.” You’re trying so hard not to take an argument out on him, especially when you’re driving to somewhere you don’t even know. But Minho’s not dumb, you bet he already had everything planned out on his mind. There’s a reason for everything, so you don’t have anything against driving in the middle of the night, just because he insisted you to.

He voices. “I’m thinking about surprising you.” And when you glance at him sideways, there are those specks of playfulness glistening in his midnight orbs again. But there’s also something else, and it’s unfathomable. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” He reassures you with a somewhat forced smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh in defeat, carefully pulling over not to hit the tree by the road.

Minho jumps out of the vehicle first. “We’re here.” You roll your eyes at him playfully and follows not long after.

And the sight in front of your eyes leaves you speechless. Even in the eerie darkness, your eyes can still make out the vibrant display of multicolored flowers all over the green field. The sweet scent soon fills your nostrils, making your eyes go wide in awe. “Come on, over here.” Minho links his hand into yours and drags you along the dirt road, trying his best not to step on any flower. Once he stops, you realize that you’re in the middle of the field, surrounded by the most surreal things that you thought could only happen in fairy tales.

The sky represents a black curtain being draped over your entire universe, with milky swirls and glitter specks dancing elegantly in various patterns. It’s transcendental, you think. How the sight have all of your worries and concerns disintegrate into dust, how you’re here with him as time seems to stop when he looks at you with nothing but pure devotion in his eyes. You’re hanging by this moment, waiting for him to say something. “Do you like it ?” He breathes out ever so softly.

You nod repeatedly. “I love it, thank you, thank you, thank you !” Mixed emotions burst inside your chest and you unconsciously fall into his embrace as if you were meant to be there all along. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, letting his more than familiar cologne hug you like a warm blanket.

Minho opens his mouth to say something but snaps it close later on. The bitterness inside is making him nauseous, burying every last bit of courage to the bottom pit of his stomach. He has so much, so much to tell you yet nothing comes out right.

He’s the first to pull away. “I’m glad that you like it, Y/N.” Take good care of yourself, okay ?

“Of course I like it, it’s everything !” You smile, not noticing how there are tears brimming in the corners of his eyes when it’s so dark outside.

Minho tries to hide the shakiness in his voice. “Close your eyes, the stars will grant a wish to whoever has enough sincerity and purity.” You’ll be fine without me, will you ?

“A wish ? I guess…” You close your eyes, tightening the grip on Minho’s hands, accidentally ignoring how his hands are getting colder, and colder by the second. “There, I made a wish !” Your eyes fly open as you giggle happily. “We should come here more often, don’t you think ? Promise me that we’ll be here every week.” You extend your pinky finger outwards.

Minho nods, intertwining his finger with yours. “I promise.” I’ll miss you.

As a silent tear rolls down on his cheek, his orbs flash a shade of crimson red.

eight & ½.

Changbin cries out dramatically. “Y/N, a little help over here ? Hello ?” He’s struggling real hard to open the door while carrying the groceries all by himself.

You quickly snap out of it, running to help him with the whopping five paper bags in his arms. “Sorry, I just thought that I saw someone who looked familiar.”

He cranes his neck tiredly after stuffing the bags into the backseats of his Tesla. “Could be some guy who reached out to you before. You know how the industry works, if they want you, they gotta have you. So be careful, creepy people are literally everywhere.”

“Right..” You trail off and jump into his car, shutting the door close. Even when Changbin twists his key and drives away from the supermarket, you can’t help but turn your head constantly to see if there’s anyone. On the way out, you made eye contact with someone, who has an odd ray of red in their eyes. Normally, things like this would have crept you out but you found an unexpected sense of familiarity in those eyes. Perhaps you’ve met before ?

But why… red ?

“Hey Bin…” You start. “Do you believe in soulmates ?”

Changbin snickers. “What the fuck is wrong with you today ? Are you sick ?”

You wave your hand to brush the topic off. “You’re right, I stayed up until three last night, can really use a nap right now.” Maybe everything’s in your head after all.

But little did you know, from across the streets, the silhouette of a demon who once shared unforgettable memories with you is embedded onto the cold brick wall. Minho has his arms crossed in front of his chest, mind blank, eyes empty. He only dares to watch in silence as your friend drives you away, fighting back the voices inside his head that are yelling at him to just hug you, to see your smile, to hear your laughter.

Little did you know, he longs to be by your side again. Minho tried to force himself into hating you but he can’t. He can’t because you taught him how to love, because you mean far more than just the universe to him, because blaming hurts more than trying to forget you. But before things get out of hand, he managed to get a hold of himself and decided to cut ties with you for good.

This is for the better, he keeps telling himself.

People say that there’s no sorrow in the demons. Since joy and sorrow are like fire and ice, there’s no possibilities for them to exist in the same subject. Demons are believed to find joy in those who despise God’s commands, and rejoice over this kind of sinister power. Therefore, there’s no sorrow in the demons. Meaning, demons can never feel heartbroken because they simply don’t have one.

If so, then why can Minho hear something shattering into pieces inside his chest ? That’s because he’s experienced something other demons aren’t supposed to. He finally knows what it feels like to actually be ‘someone’ to someone, what it feels like to think of them all day and smile stupidly about it.

And that’s something other demons are fortunate enough to not get themselves into. Because they wouldn’t want to know how painful it is to not being able to be with their loved one. Demons attract other demons by their scents so if a demon fell in love with a mortal being, that one human will live in constant danger.

Not to mention, it’s going against God to fall in love with someone who’s so different, so out of reach. And Minho could never risk losing you to anything but he can risk it all to protect you.

“I just feel so fucking broken.”

“You’ll be fine.” Hyunjin gently places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

But it is love after all… what can he do ?

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black-streak · 4 years

Text

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Settled

Part 14.

This is the last official chapter for this. Anything else will be random snippets I come with (also willing to take requests) but this is technically the end of the plotline, folks. It's been wild. Thanks for the support!

Tags: @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin @rayray384 @cassiejaydee @yuulxd @ladysblackcat @naclychilli @caffeinetheory @persephonebutkore @fertileleaf @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @weird-pale-blonde-person @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleblue5mcdork @dudet @naoryllis @disneyfoxuniverse @lordsmeldingtonthethird @taoiichii @resignedcatservant @iloontjeboontje @a-fan-fighting-for-equality

~---~

Today had been normal. Completely, bafflingly normal. Tim had pulled himself away from his computer to drive to work in the morning, dealt with the mundane process of working a board meeting into his favor, left for the manor, transferred a compiled section of files over to the mainframe down in the batcave for review, had dinner with the family and went separate ways before patrol that night.

Imagine his surprise to walk down to the cave only to find everyone already present and accounted for and more ominously, staring him down. Surely they hadn't planned another sleep intervention? Sure he skipped the last two nights, but he had made great strides of improvements in the last three-ish months! They could not expect a lifelong habit to change in such a short period of time. Dammit, he needed coffee if this conversation was to happen.

Turning on his heel, he started back up the stairs only to feel a hand grab his shoulder and pull him back towards the family. He saw faces come into his view one at a time as he was dragged past and promptly dumped into the chair at the Batcomputer. The hand belonged to Jason, who glared down at him and kept the same hand against the chair by his head.

"You want to explain yourself?"

No nicknames or playful digs. Something was very wrong indeed. Tim blinked up at him until he saw Dick in the background, face dark and twisted in a mix of confusion and anger, pointedly staring at the computer past his shoulder. Following his gaze, he saw one of his laptop files opened up on the desktop; specifically the file dedicated to Marinette, pictures of her splayed out for all to see, little comments and captions taking up the spaces between. And okay, that was mildly embarrassing, but not too far off from what one would normally expect from him concerning his girlfriend, right? So what seemed to be the problem? Well, besides that it obviously didn't belong on this screen. Turning back to the others, he blinked up at Jason who hadn't moved. Actually, he seemed to only grow more irritated.

"Ah, sorry, hadn't realized this file ended up in the compiled folder I sent over. I'll take care of it."

The fist by his head clenched harder.

"You'll take care of it? That's all you got to say for yourself?"

"Yes..?"

"Nothing about the fact that you're obviously stalking, Marinette? Nothing to explain the horrific amount of her privacy you obviously violated? How fucking creepy this all is?"

"Wait, wha-"

"Tim, you have to realize how bad this looks. Just explain to us why you have a file on her," Dick spoke in a faux soothing voice, taking a step closer only to be stopped by Bruce, who remained silent through the encounter, though obviously waiting for an explanation as well.

"Of course I have information about her on my laptop? Why wouldn't I? You know I have files on all of you, right? It's kind of what I do."

"We've seen the files on us. They're nowhere near as detailed or extensive. You're hyper fixating on Marinette," Bruce spoke slowly, as though trying to get Tim to put it together himself.

"So?"

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.

"The point is that it's creepy, Tim!" That was Dick.

"You fuckin pervert, you don't see anything wrong with taking pictures of her while she's sleeping?!" Jason.

"I thought perhaps you two had just found a common point of comfort in the naps, but perhaps I should have separated the two of you. You've obviously become attached to the point of obsession." Bruce.

"She's Damian's girlfriend, Tim, how could you?" And Steph- wait, what? Stephanie?

That's when it clicked. That's when he noticed Damian standing off from the rest, expression closed off, but humor hiding in the glint of his eyes. Stephanie stood a little off to his left, voice hard and accusing, but face barely holding back a gleeful, biting expression.

Oh god, the bet.

Wide-eyed, he turned back to Damian, "They don't know?"

He shook his head.

"But after Stephanie found out?"

He shook his head again.

"Found out what?" The hard voice of Dick brought him back to his current predicament.

"I could have sworn I already told you," he muttered to himself, "you know that Damian-"

"Tim." Damian's sharp voice cut him off, reminding him of the parameters of the bet. Which left the question of what was worse, pissing off Mari and Damian simultaneously or dealing with his clueless older brothers and father figure right now. Yeah, he'd take his chance with the latter. Wait, was Cass behind him? 'I'll still take that risk.' He couldn't help but think.

Turning back to the steadily growing impatience before him, he sighed, "I thought you already knew."

"So what, you've been trying to steal her from your little brother? And thought our silence on the matter was approval? Of course we didn't know you were taking creep shots of her!" Jason shouted.

"They're not creep shots if she doesn't care."

That only threw them for a loop for a half second.

"She couldn't have realized the intention was this, Tim! And it doesn't make it right! She's with Damian!" Dick growled out.

"Says who?"

"What?"

"Damian has never said as much. Who's to say they are?" Tim worded carefully, never outright stating who was or wasn't dating, only asking who confirmed the information.

"You know they are, stop deflecting," came from Bruce.

"Did you ask them? Because I did. You should too."

That seemed to throw most of them off and he saw Damian seething in the corner of his eye. The two months of Marinette's wager ended tonight. As of midnight, she'd officially lose even if Damian didn't win outright. Bruce turned to his youngest then, a touch of concern entering his facial expression.

"You're dating Marinette, correct?"

Damian masked his annoyance and turned to face the others.

"No."

"What do you mean, babybat? You two are practically joined at the hip. We all have to steal her away to get you two separate."

"She is my best friend. A literal angel on earth. Beautiful and sweet and dangerous. But absolutely not my girlfriend."

"Why not? You obviously love her."

"Platonically. We would kill each other in a relationship. I do not mean that figuratively either."

"Huh…"

"I think you two are missing the point," Jason ground out, cutting off the conversation between Damian and Dick, "those two may not be together, but that still doesn't explain you having a massive ass file on her. She's half naked in some of these, Tim! In her own apartment!"

"I'm aware of the photos there. I'm more annoyed you saw those, actually. How long were you looking through my files, Jason? Should I be worried about You creeping on Ma lutine?" And apparently he had no sense of self preservation left.

"The fuck did you just say? Your pixie? Oh fuck no, you do not get to make claims on her!"

And that's when chaos broke loose.

Jason had backed off a bit before, but now he was advancing on him, murderous intent in his eyes, Bruce and Dick closing in on them; whether for him or to stop Jason, he did not know. Cass moved closer from behind and for a second he swore he saw Steph and Damian share a concerned look. For a fraction of a second, he resigned himself to his fate. As Jason lifted his gun, luckily only loaded with rubber bullets, but still potentially deadly at this range, he suddenly felt it. A prickling at the back of his neck. Everything happened too quickly.

Something unseen dropped down, the gun went off in response. It blocked the bullet with a hand shrouded in black, the force knocking it back into Tim's lap where he grasped it's hips to steady them on instinct, the body covering his in a protective manner as a growl ripped out of their throat. Everyone froze.

The shadow was here.

In the batcave.

Guarding Tim bodily, silver-blue eyes glinted dangerously at Jason like a cornered predator, ready to attack at any given moment. And Jason could only stare, because he knew who this was. Tim and Damian knew who this was. No one else knew and she had just put herself at the mercy of Batman, Nightwing, Orphan, Spoiler, and likely Oracle. All to protect Tim from Jason. Who had just shot her. The gun dropped. Jason dropped to his knees as the others converged on her.

"Not. A step. Closer." She growled out, black energy flaring from her hands up her arms.

"I'm so sorry. Vix, you have to know that I'd never try to shoot you. I didn't know, I'm sorry," Jason rambled, panick flaring up.

"It's okay, Jason. You know now. And you'll never aim at him again, will you? He's mine." She said this to the man in front of her, but her eyes stared down Bruce and Dick as they tried to gain ground. Cass stayed back, Damian and Steph having grabbed her shoulders.

Damian wanted nothing more than to go up there and protect his best friend, but he knew she wouldn't allow it. This was her battle now. She had laid claim on Tim and someone was threatening her mate. He would never quite understand how the fox instincts inside of a human worked, but knew that she would treat this as she saw fit. Violently if necessary.

"Are you okay," a slightly rattled voice whispered from behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.

Watching the men in front of her, she dissipated the energy, pulling the hood down from her head and lowering the face mask slowly, allowing the entirety of her features to show and dropping the filters wrapping around her voice, letting Marinette shine through for all to see.

As dawning realization struck on the faces around her, she slowly turned in Tim's arms, hand coming up to his cheek, looking for any sign of pain in his eyes, keeping the others in her peripheral.

"I'll be fine. Are you hurt?"

"Me? You took a bullet, Mari!"

"Rubber."

"I don't care if it was made of gelatin, you were still shot!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry I scared you, but I couldn't just watch you get hurt over nothing," she soothed, pressing her forehead to his in a sweet gesture.

The moment was ruined by Batman, of course.

"Miss Marinette? You're Tim's shadow? The shadow of Gotham?"

She raised an eyebrow at the older man, "Duh."

"You've been stalking him this entire time. And I told him to figure out your identity and watch you. His entire file on you is my fault," at this, his gaze shifted to Tim, " and I accused you of being a pervert for it. I'm so sorry."

"Oh my God, is he always this dense? Is this why Ra's called you the detective?"

"Holy shit, you two are dating," Jason seemed to have come out of his panic on the floor, looking at the two in a new light, "how did I not see this before?"

"What?!" And Dick finally came unfrozen, "You're Teumessian? And you knew, didn't you?" He directed at Jason.

"Well yeah, she told me weeks ago. Or rather, showed me, I guess."

"And you never told us?"

"Not my secret identity to share."

"How many of you knew her identity?" Bruce barked out, only to see Damian, Stephanie, Jason, and Tim raise their hands. He could only heft a sigh. Why was he only good at mysteries that didn't involve his family? With that, he trudged off to brood on his own, still catching snippets of the conversation behind him. He was getting too old for this.

"Uh, not to interrupt the identity crisis, but could we get back to the fact that they're obviously together?" Jason cut in.

"They were quite obvious about it," Cass cut in quietly, seeming to have put the pieces together and found piece with them.

"Oh god, they cuddled in front of us. Blatantly. Numerous times. I feel like an idiot," Dick admitted.

"You feel stupid, I knew she was his shadow. I watched how responsive she was to him. She bent to his wishes and practically climbed him in front of me. In fact, she did! She literally climbed on his back and made him carry her!"

"Yeah, you're all pretty stupid for being detectives," Tim glared over Vixen's shoulder, her now nuzzling his neck for comfort from the stress of this encounter.

"I'm so sorry, Tim, we should've known better than to doubt you," Dick said, puppy dog eyes on full display.

"Yeah, you should've. Ow!" Vixen nipped at his shoulder with a sharp canine.

"Be nice, they didn't know," she pointed out.

"And who's fault is that?"

"Damian's. Obviously. It was his idea to take bets on when the others would put it together."

With that, the others all turned to where Damian was only to find the spot empty.

"And Steph, actually. She knew we were together too and still let them go after you for it."

Stephanie gave a nervous chuckle and then took off, the others giving chase after her and to find Damian. Screams echoed down the hall and suddenly Tim and her were alone.

She dropped the transformation and slumped against him. Tim picked up her hand that had dissolved the bullet and cupped it close.

"Does it hurt?"

"It'll bruise, but I'll be okay. It'll look ugly for a little bit."

He pressed a kiss into her palm in response, whisper soft and reverent, "please don't scare me like that again."

"Then you don't needlessly endanger yourself like that again. I don't care what bet I had going, you should have just told them the second they cornered you like that. You could've told Damian that their demands for explanation was technically asking in a way you had to answer. You're too smart to not be using loopholes like that."

"I'm sorry for worrying you, love."

"You better be," she kissed his neck and curled closer, settling in his lap.

"We should relocate."

"No. If they're going to make stupid accusations, they should have to stare at the stupidity of their actions."

"You're cute when you're vindictive, but could we please move to the couch? It'll be comfier," he tempted. Blushing, she peaked up at him.

"That does sound nice… but only if you carry me," she smiled, giving a little excited wiggle.

"Think I can arrange that," he softened under her gaze, picking her up as he stood and made his way up towards the living room couch, patrol forgotten for the night, "hey, who technically won, anyways?"

"Who even cares?... Though I think I did."

#maribat #timari #timinette #ml x dc #part 14 #oh god its done

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Stuck In My Head

Summary: Anon request- Idk if you've written anything about the quarantine yet? Idk if you feel comfortable right because weird topic. But I feel like Cal has been posting a lot about his mental health during this and it might be cool to explore like living along side him dealing with your own (this was the worst worded request I've ever submitted I'm sorry)

A/N: If you’re struggling, please reach out. I think it’s easy to feel alone, especially now. But please don’t listen to the voice in your head. You are not alone. And you are not bothering anyone. In fact, hearing from you makes our day.

Content: Mental health awareness.

Word Count: 1.4k

And away, and away we go!

Melody stared blankly at the television screen. The words “Stay at home order” should have hit deeper. But all she could think about was that it was a good idea Calum had run out to the store.

“Geez it’s like a zoo out there,” Calum announced while the women continued to stare blankly as Governor Newsom continued his speech about his plans for California during these “troubling times.”

“Uh… Mel? Little help?” Calum asked, snapping his roommate out of her daze.

“Shit, sorry,” she apologized, rushing over to help him with the groceries.

“The news say anything?”

“Stay at home order. God knows for how long.”

“Shit, no wonder the stores were all packed.”

“Yeah. How’s this gonna work for your album next week?”

“Fuck…” The question was enough to stop his actions of unpacking the shopping bags. “Fuck..” he repeated. “We’ll figure something out. Probably last minute, but we’ll figure it out. What does this mean for you? You had that photoshoot planned, didn’t you?”

Melody nodded as they put the last of the groceries away. “Yeah, I’ll have to call my agency, and see what’s going on with that.”

“Well don’t stress too much about it,” Calum told her. “I mean, I know you. I know you’re gonna stress about it. But try not to do it too much.”

Melody rolled her eyes. “Yeah I’ll try not to be too torn up over how now sitting on ass is a contribution to society. Every introvert's dream come true.”

Calum chuckled. “I’m just sayin’. If you need me, I’m here. Same as always.”

~~~

Again, Melody was staring blankly at the television screen. The noise was soothing even though she couldn’t focus on the show. She hadn’t been able to focus on much in the last month since quarantine hit. Her job was on hiatus until further notice, and while there was plenty for her to do around the house, she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it the way she once had.

During the first week she had tried to settle into a routine to keep some semblance of normalcy. But as the days dragged by, time became almost irrelevant. Most nights were spent staring up at her ceiling, watching the fan spin in circles. It took effort to drag herself out of bed before noon. Still, she fought to go through the motions. But it was hard when there was no real reason to. While logically she knew she could get in her car and go visit her friends the way Calum had done with Michael, the excuse of not was heavier than her want. What was there to talk about that couldn’t be said through text anyway? She wanted to see her friends so she could go out with them. But there was nowhere to go out to. And it wasn’t like she didn’t have company because Calum was stuck at home just like she was.

Calum, she was beginning to realize, was the only reason she was bothering putting herself through the paces. She might be sleeping late and wandering around with a blank expression, but at least she was showering, wearing clothes other than sweats, and eating. So she supposed she could be doing a whole lot worse.

But Calum had been right. With the world quiet, there was nothing to drown out the screaming in her mind. Her thoughts swirled angrily in her head and the only relief came through sleep, which of course had been evading her. She had always dealt with insomnia, but having no real routine made it that much worse. She could be on the verge of falling asleep, but it was like the second her head hit the pillow and she finally closed her eyes, she found her energy. Only it wasn’t energy to do anything besides stay awake. Awake and listening to the thoughts.

~~~

Melody watched as the ceiling fan spun around in a hypnotizing circle, jealous that it was moving, unlike her. It had been almost ten weeks now and she was just as lost as she had been when this started. Logically she knew there was nothing for her to worry about. Calum and her were healthy. They all had more money than they knew what to do with. Groceries and other things were being shipped to their doorstep. There was nothing actually wrong. But no amount of talking on the phone with her family and friends, or taking Duke out for small walks around the neighborhood with Calum was enough to shake the feeling of emptiness. Like everything was pause, but it was only on pause for her. Her roommate had managed to stay plenty busy with his music in spite of everything coming to a complete standstill. And while she knew that had nothing to do with her, she couldn’t stop the comparison no matter how hard she tried.

If you need me, I’m here. Same as always.

“Even at… 2:47 am, Cal?” she whispered in the dark as she climbed out of bed.

She paused outside of his bedroom door, debating. It was late. He was probably fast asleep. She should probably just go back to her own room and try again to fall asleep. “Cal?” she asked, her voice low as she entered the dark bedroom. “Cal, are you awake?”

She heard the jingle of Duke’s collar as the dog woke up to readjust himself on the bed. Calum’s arm moved out from under the covers, patting around beside him. “Duke, go back to sleep,” he grumbled, still more or less fully asleep.

“Cal, it’s me,” Melody told him, moving further into the bedroom.

“Mel,” Calum acknowledged as he yawned. “Just Mel, Duke.”

“Cal, scooch over,” she directed as she swallowed her hesitation and edged herself onto his bed.

“Mel, shh. I’m sleepin’,” Calum scolded lightly, but he rolled over in his sleep, allowing her to curl up next to him.

“Keep sleeping, then,” she whispered at him.

Again, he rolled over in his sleep, his arm falling across her. He startled awake, not expecting to find a body there. “Fuck, Mel! Way to give a guy a heart attack! What are you doing in here? Some watchdog you are, Duke…” His voice lost the heaviness of sleep as he worked himself awake with his rambling.

Melody stared up at Calum’s ceiling, watching the fan make its rounds, feeling stupider by the second.

“Mel?” Calum prompted after a good minute or two of silence. “Everything okay?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Mmm, so bothering me seemed like a good idea?”

Melody rolled her eyes and pushed into his shoulder, his chuckle a deep rumble. “You said you were here if I needed you, yeah?”

“Course.”

“Well I need you.”

He shifted in bed to sit up against the headboard, draping an arm across her shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, leaning against his shoulder.

“You were going off the deep end before this started.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

He shrugged. “If I approached you, you would get defensive, and retreat further inside yourself.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“So what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Feeling like a failure. Like no matter how fast I move towards my future, I still feel like I’m getting left behind somehow. Like what I'm doing doesn’t measure up to what other people my age are doing.”

“And with the world at a standstill, you don’t have the noise to silence that voice.”

“Exactly. I mean, I’m cooped up in here for days on end. With nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. And as much as I know that voice is wrong, there’s nothing to dispute it. And it feels weird to complain that I feel useless and helpless when I know that there are people out there who are actually struggling. People who can’t make ends meet even when they did have jobs to go to.”

“Okay, but that’s not how pain works. You’re allowed to hurt, too.”

“But I don’t want to hurt, Cal. That's the whole problem. I don’t want to feel like this.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t know. This maybe? To be held by someone I know cares about me.”

“Touch-starved?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, good. So am I.” He shifted one last time to lay down on his side, pulling Melody’s back to his chest. “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. This is…” her voice choked around the words, cutting off her sentence.

Calum’s chin rubbed in her hair as he nodded. “I know. I got you, and you got me, right?”

“Always, Cal, always.”

Tag List

@frontmanash @goeatsomelife @flameraine @here-for-the-uproars @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @sparkling-calm @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short @aquarius-hood1996 @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @philthepegacorn @boomerash

#stuck in my head #calum hood fic #calum hood #5sos #galcal irwin

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (24/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I hope that absolutely everyone is having a fantastic Friday!

Thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for being my beta and resident turkey expert 😘

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-/-

“Emma, what are you wearing tonight? Because I know that it’s August and blazing outside, but it’s also not as hot in LA right now as it is in New York, which makes no sense. I just can’t decide.”

Ariel has been rambling to Emma about what she’s going to wear tonight for the past ten minutes, and Killian has watched as Emma has simply responded in little grunts and one syllable words as she focuses on her phone. It’s not at all like Emma to not give someone her full attention, especially someone she likes and enjoys spending time with. But she’s been staring at her phone this entire time, bottom lip continually being tugged back into her mouth by her teeth, and he can’t quite figure out what’s going on in that head of hers.

“Sweetheart,” Eric sighs, rising from his chair in their hotel room to walk over to Ariel’s suitcase to pick up some of her loose clothing, “wear your green dress. I think Emma might be a little preoccupied with work. She does have a game to cover in a few hours, which kind of comes before dinner.”

“Huh?” Emma asks, looking up from her phone, eyes darting around the room, before she’s darkening the screen on her phone and placing it face down on the table. “What are we talking about?”

“Ariel wants to know what you’re wearing to dinner tonight, love,” Killian supplies, arching his brow and nodding over to Ariel. “You’ve been a bit distracted.”

“Oh, sorry, work. Um,” Emma stutters, adjusting her legs in her chair, “I have this, like, blue and white maxi dress that I think I’ll wear, probably with my white sneakers instead of heels because I know I’ll be exhausted after the game and heels are just too much.”

“So casual?” Ariel asks.

“Yeah, casual. That’s okay for the restaurant we’re going to, right?”

“Yeah, it is. Belle’s dad knows the owner because I swear to you that girl has all of the connections in the world, and he’s gotten us a private room so that you guys can come with us.”

“Remind me to thank Belle for that, Swan,” Killian says, reaching over to her and squeezing her forearm. “I rather like getting to go out to dinner with you.”

“Yeah,” Emma smiles, “me too.”

“You guys are so cute.”

“You guys are nauseating.”

The words come at the same time from Ariel and Eric. Ariel is staring at them like they’re both shiny pieces of gold and Eric is scrunching up his nose in disgust, and all Killian can do in reply is shrug his shoulders.

“You guys literally asked us to come in here,” Emma laughs, and he hears her phone buzz again even if she ignores it. “You’re not allowed to complain if we’re guests.”

“Technically, my wife asked you in here because she found out we had an adjoining room, and she has no sense of personal boundaries when it comes to Killian.”

Ariel slaps Eric, her lips parted in surprise. “That is not true.”

“Eh,” Killian sighs, scratching behind his ear, “itit kind of is.”

“Killian Jones, that is not true.”

“Last week you asked me to check to see if you’d managed to shave the back of your upper thigh.”

“That was important! I needed to know if I was walking around with a giant patch of hair.”

“A, it was covered by your dress. No one ever would have had to know.”

“But I knew.”

Killian huffs, falling back into his chair as his hand inches down Emma’s arm so that he can tangle their fingers together and squeeze all the while Eric is rubbing his hands up and down his face and Ariel has her hands on her hips starting him down.

Collectively, they are a mess.

Individually, they are also a mess, but that’s entirely beside the point.

“You guys are all really weird,” Emma finally chuckles, looking over at him with this smile that Killian is sure is the most beautiful smile in the world. “Wear the green dress, A. I’ve got to go get ready to go to work, which all of you probably need to be doing too.”

“We’ve got five hours until the game starts.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs as she stands up, “and you guys still haven’t done workouts. I’m not interested in dating losers, so I need Killian to get his ass in gear.”

Killian barks out a laugh before reaching forward and slapping Emma’s ass, making her jump a little bit before she’s sauntering out of the room with a very pointed sway of her hips.

The minx.

-/-

Elizabeth Olsen.

Sweet Cheeks.

Batman and Robin.

Professor Jones.

All in all, they’re not the worst jersey names they’ve ever had for Player’s Weekend and all of the ridiculousness that comes with being able to pick the name that goes on the back of their black jerseys, but it’s also not the best. And Killian really doesn’t want to know why Eric chose Sweet Cheeks for his name. That could be entirely innocent, but he’s betting that it is most definitely not knowing he and Ariel.

Just…no. He’s not going there.

Will’s name is probably his favorite considering he almost did Scarlet Witch but decided to be a little more literal so that approximately seven people would understand the reference despite the popularity of the Marvel universe. Robin’s is pretty obvious, and, well, Killian is lazy and simply went with Will’s nickname for him.

None of them have future careers as comedians after this.

Not a one.

But that’s fine. They’ll let other people be funny, and even if he does need to start thinking about his future – as everyone else seems to be lately – today is not that day.

Today is the Saturday of Player’s Weekend, Eric just hit his two hundredth home run of his career, they’re all going out to dinner tonight, and all Killian wants to do is enjoy the day.

Good days should stay good days.

Even if Emma seems distracted and a tad bit distant.

It started when she was staring down at her phone this morning in the hotel room. She said it was work and went back to her normal self, but then when they got back to his hotel room and she started getting ready for work, she was distant again. Some mornings are like that. He gets it. He doesn’t always want to talk to someone or be talking to someone, so he let her be as she curled her hair before pulling it up in a ponytail and then got dressed in a pair of shorts that hug the muscles of her legs and her own customized jersey that Ariel got for her as some kind of further proof that she is part of their team now more than ever.

All it says is “Swan” on the back, but he thinks that’s enough. She deserves it.

But he’s not entirely sure what’s going on with her that has her all distracted, and he never got a chance to ask this morning before the team was taking the bus to the stadium and Emma was getting into a taxi to do the same. She’s five feet away from him in the dugout right now, but he definitely can’t ask. That would be giving away far too much to people who don’t know and can’t know.

Sometimes keeping all of this a secret is exhausting, but until Emma is ready to handle the unfortunate backlash that will come with others knowing, he’s more than good being a little exhausted for her happiness, especially since a lot of the struggle was because he was once an unintentional ass. They’ll keep it quiet as long as they can and then hopefully one day they’ll stop caring so much and simply go to dinner or a play or a jog in the park on a Saturday morning without caring who sees them together.

Emma’s the one who’s been through all of the sexist shit, though, even if he has had a not-so-great relationship with the press, and he’s all for waiting for Emma.

“Damn, it’s hot,” Will huffs as he steps down into the dugout after getting struck out. “I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”

“That sounds like an excuse, Scarlet.”

“Eh, eh eh,” Will scolds as he grabs a cup of water and pours it over his head, water droplets falling off the buzz cut, “today I am Elizabeth Olsen, the younger sister of the Olsen twins. What ever happened to them anyways?”

“I think they design clothes.”

“How do you know that?”

“I am very into fashion. Can’t you tell by how much effort I put into my outfits every day?”

“You don’t even own a Hawaiian shirt.”

“The fact that you think it’s fashionable to dress like a middle-aged tourist is highly questionable,” Killian laughs, reaching over to grab himself a cup of water. It is extremely hot today, and Killian can feel it over every inch of his bones. “Do you also wear your white socks halfway up your calves?”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Will flicks the water off of his head and knocks his knee into Killian’s before nodding over at Emma and Jeff as they look at something on Jeff’s camera. “What’s up with Emma today? She seems off.”

Killian’s eyes dart around the dugout, looking to see if anyone is paying any attention, but they’re not, each of them too preoccupied with the game.

“No idea, mate. I’m going to talk to her tonight.”

“Did you screw up somehow?”

“Why does it have to be something I did?”

Will shrugs, kicking his foot at the ground to knock some dirt out of his cleats. “Seven times out of ten, it is.”

“And yet you call me Professor Jones when you have statistics like that.”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

-/-

They win that afternoon.

-/-

“Killian, can you zip up the back of my dress?”

“I tend to like your dresses unzipped, but if the lady insists.”

He can’t see Emma’s face right now, but he knows that she’s rolling her eyes at him. Quickly, he finishes tying his shoes and stands from the edge of the bed to walk over to Emma and move her hair off of the back of her neck so that he can pull the zipper the rest of the way up to cover her back. She’s very obviously just sprayed perfume, the smell of vanilla invading his senses, and he takes a moment to breathe it in before pressing his lips against the back of Emma’s neck and lingering there while his hands find purchase at her hips, pulling her back to him.

“You smell amazing.”

“I bathed.”

Killian chuckles into her neck before kissing her there again and nuzzling his scruff into her skin. “How much time do we have before dinner?”

Emma laughs as her hands pat his over her stomach. “Not enough time to have sex if that’s where your mind is going.”

“Dirty, Swan. That’s not at all what I was thinking.”

“Liar.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“Okay,” she sighs hesitantly, looking into the hotel room mirror in front of them so that she can actually see him as he can see her, “what do you want to do then?”

“Talk about why you’ve been in a weird mood all day.”

“I have not been in a weird mood all day.”

“Swan, everyone has noticed it.”

“Everyone is imagining things.”

He arches a brow, the disbelief clearly written all over his face. “You can talk to me about anything. You know that, right?”

Guilt immediately weighs down on his stomach at the sound of his own words. Here is he is telling Emma that she can tell him anything, practically goading information out of her, and he still hasn’t told her about his shoulder, about the full, ugly truth of his injury. It didn’t bother him today, not after Archie massaged it, and yet something is still tugging at him to tell her.

Maybe he wants to tell Emma that he’s been struggling with his arm, that he went through more surgeries than she knows, that his scars are more than the ones on his arm and his shoulder. Maybe he simply wants to let Emma know everything, but fears stay strong no matter how fearless he can sometimes be.

It’s the most idiotic thing, still not having the courage to share something with her, but how is he supposed to admit to actually being broken when she doesn’t think that about him?

Or maybe saying it out loud means that he’s fully admitting it to himself, and that might be the scariest part of it all.

When is he going to get over these fears?

But that doesn’t matter. None of it does right now. Something has been bothering Emma all day, and it’s likely a much bigger deal than his own demons fighting for dominance inside of his mind.

“I have some news,” Emma finally says as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and raises both brows.

He’s got no clue where she’s going with this.

“Good news or bad news?”

“Good. I mean – ” Emma stops talking and moves out of his embrace, turning around so that she can look at him as she props herself up on the desk. “I think it’s good. I hope it is. It’s just not…it’s not officially confirmed or anything yet, so I didn’t want to say anything.”

Killian gulps, nodding his head along as his mind tries to figure out what exactly kind of news it is that she has. “Love, I’m all for telling me things when you’re ready, but now I feel like I really have to know.”

She chuckles, shrugging her shoulders and making herself smaller. “David, a month or so back, asked me if I wanted to try and be an official commentator for a game, you know? And obviously I said yes. That’s, like, one of the dreams, but I didn’t want to only get it because of David so I’ve been talking to executives and having all of these meetings, and I got an email this morning that they’re very tentatively going to let me work during the Rangers game on Labor Day.”

Holy shit, he thinks.

“Holy shit,” he says out loud too before taking the two steps forward and reaching down to place his arms under Emma’s ass so that he can pick her up in a hug, his excitement for her coursing through his veins and possibly being a little too exuberant. But then Emma’s wrapping her arms around his neck and her ankles around his hips, and there’s nothing else that matters except for how happy Emma is right now. “That’s fucking incredible, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Killian confirms, nodding his head up and down into her neck before pulling back only to press forward again to slam his lips into Emma’s in a messy, happy kiss that never has time to deepen because of the smiles on both of their lips but that is wonderful all the same. “You’re a badass. I hope you know that.”

Emma blushes out of what has to be a bit of shyness, something that is totally unlike her, and all he can do is smile in response and hitch her up a little higher in his embrace while her hands curl into his hair.

“I mean, I have David and I’ve been lucky and I – ”

“Hey, no,” he stops her, walking them over to the bed so that he can sit down since Emma is fully-grown woman and he did play a baseball game today, “don’t diminish your accomplishments because you’ve had a little help. I have too. And enough people try to take things away from you that you don’t need to do that as well. You are incredible, Emma. No protests.”

Her lips curl up at the sides before she leans forward to rest her forehead against his. “Are you just saying all of this to butter me up since you’ll be pitching in that game and want me to say good things about you?”

“Oh, absolutely, love. I fully expect you to talk about me as if I am the greatest baseball player of all time with the greatest ass. I want completely biased treatment.”

“I think that might give away our little secret.”

“Nah. It’ll just show that you have good taste.” Emma sighs against him, and Killian feels all of the guilt wash away from him. This is so incredible for her, and she deserves it. So much. “I am so proud of you, and I love you so much that it’s ridiculous.”

“I love you too, twenty-nine. I’ll try to slide in a very subtle comment about your ass.”

“That’s all I ask.”

There’s a banging knock on the door before suddenly it’s opening and Ariel is walking through the door with Eric right behind her.

“Oh my gosh, why have you guys not been answering my texts? I – oh,” she stops, and Emma buries her face in his shoulder while he rubs his hands up and down her back as some kind of comfort or apology for not remembering to lock the adjoining door between this room. “I didn’t mean to interrupt something. What exactly…what am I interrupting because that’s kind of any interesting position, and I – ”

“A, oh my God,” Killian groans, slowly moving Emma off of him so that she doesn’t flash Ariel and Eric, “you are ridiculous, and you’re not interrupting anything. We are both still fully clothed and ready to go to dinner.”

Ariel shrugs. “If you say so.”

Emma stands up from the bed and adjusts her dress, brushing all of the winkles out of it. “I just need to fix my makeup real quick, okay?”

“You might want to do that too, man,” Eric says as he points at Killian. “You’ve got a bit of red lipstick stuck in your beard, and I don’t think that’s your shade.”

They go to a Mediterranean restaurant in Pasadena, one that Ariel swears has both good food and a private atmosphere where no one will pay much attention to them – not that he thinks anyone in LA really cares about a bunch of baseball players from New York when half of the people in New York don’t care about them – and to her word, as soon as they get there, they’re shuffled into a back room. It’s a bit much, definitely more precaution than anything, but he’s thankful for it anyways as he pulls out Emma’s chair and she settles down next to him with a smile on her face as she and Belle start talking about books that he knows for a fact that Emma hasn’t gotten to read yet since they’re sitting on her bedside table.

Emma has three categories of books placed around the apartment.

(1)On her bedside table that means she’s started but hasn’t come anywhere close to finishing.

(2)On the bookshelf in the hallway between she and Ruby and Graham’s rooms. Those books have been read but are never going to be reread and are collecting dust.

(3)On the coffee table in the living room. Whatever is there is at the top of Emma’s list, and he knows that if he picks it up, he can see folded pages and little marks from where she’s been devouring them.

Every single book Belle is talking about is on that fated bedside table, probably won’t be read until sometime in December when Emma has off from work, but Emma seems just fine chatting away about them with Belle like she has actually read all of them. But then again, Emma and Belle apparently text pretty often, so he’s not surprised that they get along well. Hell, Emma gets along with everyone in his life, even if it’s a little bumpy, and he couldn’t ask for more on that front.

On any front.

Damn. He’s gotten entirely too sentimental today.

“Are any of you actually going to eat an actual meal tonight?” Belle questions as they’ve all ordered their drinks. “Or is this going to be one of those nights where you guys all get grilled chicken and salad?”

“What is wrong with grilled chicken and salad, babe?”

“Nothing. But we didn’t have to go out to eat for that. I could be wearing sweatpants in the hotel.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Emma sighs, picking up the glass of water in front of her and taking a sip. “I feel like the fact that they’re on stricter diets now is good for them and for me, you know? But I also just end up eating all of the bread that Killian doesn’t eat.”

“And I thought that was just me.” Ariel picks up a roll from the middle of the table as she says this, and Killian has to stifle his chuckle. “But Will eats worse than any of them, so I imagine there’s not a lot of leftover bread to begin with.”

“Oi, what��s that supposed to mean?”

“That you eat like you’re a teenager,” Robin answers. “Or my six-year-old son. But then again, sometimes I struggle to get him to eat any food if it’s not in the shape of a Disney character or some kind of chicken.”

“I’m guessing not the grilled chicken you all eat.” “Actually, yes. It’s very popular in his book right now. I think it’s been in nearly every packed lunch he’s had for the past two weeks.”

“I think I’m going to have one of the pizzas,” Killian interrupts, knowing that Robin is about to go into an extremely detailed explanation of Roland’s eating habits. “Or maybe pasta. Possibly the Moussaka. Swan, do you want to get some of the mozzarella balls?”

“Do I want to get something involving fried cheese? Do you even know me at all?”

Killian shrugs, squeezing Emma’s thigh from where his hand has been resting. “I mean, I feel like I’ve got a pretty good grasp on your cheese preferences.”

“Is that an innuendo?” Will asks.

“Scarlet,” Killian laughs, “how the hell would that be an innuendo?”

“Well, you know, with the – ”

“Nope,” Ariel interrupts while raising her arm in the air. “Nope. I am about to have a cocktail and a hell of a lot of pasta, and I am not hearing some kind of weird cheese innuendo that is going to ruin cheese for me forever.”

“But I – ”

“No, Will,” Ariel continues, and Killian can see everyone hiding the smiles on their faces, “don’t even bother. You can talk about all of your cheese innuendos on your wedding day because that is your day and you get a free pass.”

“Well, gee, Ariel, that’s so nice of you to give me a free pass on my wedding day.”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to veto that too. I’m the one who actually sleeps with you, and I don’t want to hear anything cheese related.” Belle shakes her head in disgust, her eyes rolling with the movement. “but speaking of the wedding, I need all of your guys to go have your tuxes fitted at some point since we’re buying them instead of renting them. I know we still have a lot of time until then, but I just know that it’s going to fall by the wayside since we’ll be smack dab in the middle of baseball mating season.”

“I think Belle is calling us unreliable, you guys,” Eric says.

“Yeah, that’s definitely the vibe I was getting,” Killian agrees. “She also basically implied that we’d be fucking like bunnies the moment the season ends and not be able to leave our homes.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind that,” Emma laughs, and Killian nearly chokes on air with his laugh.

“Does Roland also need to do this?” Robin asks, completely messing up their conversation? “The tux fitting, I mean.”

“Yep,” Belle answers. “His tux is going to match yours because he’s going to be the absolute cutest ring bearer in the world, even if we aren’t giving him the actual rings.”

“Honestly, good plan. People should not give rings to children, even if supervised. That’s a disaster waiting to happen. Roland can’t even get his homework from the kitchen table to his backpack some days.”

“Where’s the wedding again?” Emma asks, twisting her chair put still placing her hand over his on her lap.

“Pier Sixty in Chelsea. It’s – ”

“Oh, I know,” Emma laughs, and he’s reminded of just how beautiful she is when she laughs. And of how proud he is of her too. And that he should probably officially ask her to be his date for this wedding so that she’s not walking around thinking that she’s not going to be a part of it. “I live in Chelsea. I know all about it. That’s a gorgeous place. The view of the Hudson is incredible from in there.”

“When have you been there, love?”

“Work Christmas thing when I was an intern. Mary Margaret stayed home with Leo, and I got to be David’s plus one, which was really nice if not a bit overwhelming because I definitely had far too many glasses of wine for someone who wasn’t technically supposed to be drinking yet.”

“Scandalous.”

“I try.”

This starts an entire conversation about the wedding, from the food they’re serving to if they’re having a band of DJ. Eric makes the suggestion that they serve hot dogs and soft pretzels like they’re at a baseball game since everything in their lives seems to revolve around baseball, and the glare that Belle shoots him is so sharp that it could cut into the salmon that Killian orders. Honestly, though, finger foods like that are not a horrible idea since he’s never been one for stuff atmospheres with dry chicken or steak cooked in a way that he dislikes, and Killian almost makes a mental note to file something like that away before he realizes that filing information away for a wedding would mean that he is mentally planning his own wedding.

That’s too much for tonight.

But Belle and Will are going with authentic French food because of Belle’s father and her family in France that she gets to visit once or twice a year, and they are having a band. There are also a million other things, ones that he’s having a hard time keeping track of, and despite how many people he knows, he hasn’t actually been to a wedding since Liam and Elsa got married at Elsa’s parents’ house with one hundred other people jammed inside so that there was barely room to breathe, let alone think about dancing or sitting down with a plate of food.

That was a nice day, though. His brother was absolutely beaming, something he always seems to do around Elsa, and all that mattered was that the two of them were together. That’s kind of always all that matters underneath the rented ballrooms and tailored outfits.

What in the world is he ever going to do with his tux after he wears it to this wedding? It’s probably going to sit in his closet and collect dust forever.

“How are we doing the bill tonight?” their waitress asks them after they’ve all eaten and laughed until their stomachs hurt. “Separate? Together? By pairs?”

“Separate,” Ariel tells her. “I go with – ”

“Just put it all on one bill,” Killian interrupts, pulling his card out of his wallet only for everyone to start to protest. “Nope. This is my treat. Honestly, do not try to argue with me. I’m paying for it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Belle sighs.

“Hush,” Will hisses, and Killian hears Emma laugh next to him. “If Professor Jones wants to pay, let him pay.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth Olsen.”

Will rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest. That’s who he is for every game this weekend anyways.

Everyone else gets up to go outside to where their Ubers are going to pick them up while he and Emma wait inside for the bill, Emma still sipping on her drink even though there’s only the slightest bit left in the glass. Quickly, though, he’s signing the check and the two of them are walking through the back entrance of the restaurant so that they don’t have to go through all of the other people.

“So, speaking of getting married,” he starts.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Emma laughs, looking up at him with raised brows and pursed lips.

“Calm down, Swan,” Killian sighs, shaking his head from side to side. “I’m not proposing. I realize I had a poor choice of words there, but I count myself as more of a romantic than to propose by the kitchen of a Mediterranean restaurant.” He doesn’t say that they’re nowhere ready for that. It’s not needed. “I meant to ask you if you would be my date for Belle and Will’s wedding. I realize it should likely be implied, but I like you to know.”

“You planning on keeping me around that long? That’s all the way in December.”

“Of course. I’ve got to have someone to kiss on New Year’s so I don’t look like a loser at my brother’s house, so you’re going to last at least until then.”

“I mean, if you’re spending your New Year’s Eve at your brother’s house, you’re already a pretty big loser.”

Killian throws his head back and laughs before lifting his arm and wrapping it around Emma’s shoulder, tugging her closer to him so that he can brush his lips against her temple before pushing the back door open. “You’re a gem, my love.”

“I’m also apparently your arm candy.”

“Nah, you’d have to be sweet to be that.”

Emma slaps his stomach then, hard, but he doesn’t care as he continues to laugh while they walk to the curb of the sidewalk where their Uber should be any minute now. “You’re being an ass.”

“I’m your ass.”

“Now that’s just weird, twenty-nine.”

“But a good kind of weird.” He kisses her temple again, and Emma’s cheek presses into his shoulder. “Do you want to stop somewhere for dessert to celebrate your big almost promotion? I hate that we couldn’t really talk about it tonight since you didn’t want to say anything until it’s official.”

“It’s okay. We can celebrate when we get back to the hotel, if you know what I mean.”

“By getting that dessert.”

“Exactly,” Emma smiles up at him, pressing her hand against his chest.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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idontreallyknowwwwww · 4 years

Text

UCONN Application Due at 5

‘’Have fun in Hell.’’ I looked at his lifeless body, slumped over the arm of the couch. His mouth was hanging open, and you could see the blue ring lining his lips from the detergent I had given him to drink. His eyes were glossed over, and his forehead was slick with sweat. I stared at him for a minute, amazed by my work, before I was launched back into reality. I have to get out of here. I left Raymond there, and exited through the back door. My heart was racing. I had to get home before I had an anxiety attack and gave myself away to the old lady tending to her garden next door.

I thought about it on the drive home. Can you justify murder if it’s for the right reason? He said he was going to kill me. Raymond said that if he didn’t kill me, something else would, so I should be thanking him for the favor. How fucked up is that? Well, look at how the tables had turned. I hadn’t been planning on killing him, but I just couldn’t stop myself. But who did I think I was fooling? Not myself, that’s for sure. And not the cops either. I had no proof that he had planned to kill me. No threatening text messages, no stalkerish behavior. But it would be fine, there was nothing to worry about. I had left no traces that it had been me. I had worn gloves, and I had made sure that he was dead before I left. So I should be fine. I should be jumping for joy, I had saved myself! That boy deserved to die. Why even bother going to his funeral? Actually, I should go to his funeral. He was my boyfriend. I had to at least pretend that I was sad about his untimely death. So I’ll go to the funeral, cry a few tears, and nobody will suspect a thing.

‘’Hi Mrs. Riker. This is Sarah. How are you?’’ It’s been a few days since the murder, and it’s been all over the news. Every hour of the day, Raymond’s face swarmed the tv screen. Gave me a headache. When will everybody get over him? He wasn’t even that big of a deal anyway. There’s been this boiling feeling in my stomach for the last few days. I don’t know what it is exactly. It’s not sadness. Definitely not. I would almost call it fear. But not of getting caught. I’m not sure what it is I’m afraid of, but this growing knot keeps on twisting itself tighter and tighter inside of me. And to make matters even worse, Raymond’s mother decided to call. ‘’I just cannot believe that someone would do this. Absolutely terrible. He was a beautiful boy, I know. And we all loved him so much. Saturday at one? Ok. No, I don’t want to make a speech. I get really nervous in front of big crowds. Yeah, Raymond would understand. Alright, well, I’ll see you in a few days then. Bye.’’

Saturday at one. That was when Raymond said that he was going to take me bowling for our one year anniversary. Well not anymore. I’d be taking him to his funeral instead. Hope he’s bowling with the devil, like he deserves.

So it’s Saturday now. I’m all ready for this bullshit funeral. This guy doesn’t deserve a funeral. He threatened to kill me! Nobody who threatens to end someone’s life should get a funeral. Whatever. I’ll go, weep a little, and then we can all move on with our lives. Nobody will ever think of Raymond Riker again. The bubble of panic in my stomach hasn’t gone away. I still don’t know what I’m afraid of. It’s been a week now, and I haven’t been caught. And it’s not like the police are going to come to the funeral and see me there. Raymond’s case will remain unsolved, and the police will have moved on to other cases by now.

‘’Let us all remember what a wonderful boy Raymond Riker was. He was a kind, compassionate soul, and we all will remember him dearly.’’ Raymond was lowered into the ground. His mom was crying, and it made me sad to see her that way. She had been nothing but kind to me. Oh well. I can’t let my guard down for some woman who didn’t even know her son was a killer. The snow crunched beneath everyone’s feet as they slowly began to leave the burial sight. After a while, it was only me, Raymond’s parents, and some old lady. I took one last look at the people left, and then turned to leave. I walked back to my car in silence. It’s all done now. It’s official. He’s dead. He’s buried. His existence had ceased to exist.

I sat in my car with my hands on the steering wheel. I had to get home. My application to UCONN was due at five this afternoon, and I hadn’t finished it yet. I reached to buckle my seatbelt, when someone knocked on the window. A young police officer was standing outside. He was short and stocky, and had a baby face with curly blond hair. His name tag said Officer Rodney. I rolled down my window. ‘’Ma’am, I need you to step outside your vehicle.’’ His voice shook a little bit. I stepped out of the car, trying to keep a straight face. ‘’ Can you tell me your name?’’ I shut the car door. ‘’Sarah Jay.’’ I clasped my hands behind my back. ‘’I need you to come down to the station with me. You’ve been deemed as a suspect in the murder of Raymond J. Riker.’’ Suspect? How? ‘’I’m not sure I understand.’’ I was swaying from side to side. The officer was probably taking note of that. I stopped. ‘’We have some questions for you. And a witness said that they saw you at the scene of the crime. Please step into my car.’’ What was I going to do now? I couldn’t run. Even though there’s no way this guy could catch me, he had a gun. He could shoot me. And if I run, they’ll know it was me. I gingerly slid into the backseat of his police car. All I had to do was deny everything. I just had to play the distraught girlfriend who loved her boyfriend. I could come up with the whole script right now, on the way to the station. I could say I saw myself spending the rest of my life with Raymond, how I envisioned walking down the aisle towards him on our wedding day. But who was I kidding. They wouldn’t believe that. And what about this supposed witness? How do the police know they aren’t lying? God, this was all a mess. This wasn’t going to plan, and now I had to do damage control on a situation that I put myself in.

The station was grimy. The smells of sweat and coffee intertwined inside my nostrils and suffocated me. My converse sneakers squealed against the linoleum floor, making me acutely aware of how loud my footsteps were. The officer brought me into a room with no windows. There was one door, and it was the one we came in. Inside the room was a different officer, this one with a crew cut and fair skin. He was taller than the other officer, and older too. His name tag said Officer Donald. I sat down in the chair across from him. I looked him dead in the eyes. My clasped hands were only about two inches away from his. If I extended one finger, I could probably touch one of his veiny knuckles.

‘’Did you know Raymond Riker?’’ His voice was deep. I decided to fixate in on his lips, instead of staring into his deep brown eyes. ‘’Yes.’’ I paused. ‘’He was my boyfriend.’’ The officer had the beginning of a moustache growing along his upper lip. ‘’And how long had you been dating?’’ His lips tended to lean over to the left side when he spoke. ‘’It would’ve been our one year anniversary today.’’ I kept a monotone voice. ‘’Tell me a little bit about your relationship. Did he ever take you out on dates? Did you ever invite him over to meet your parents?’’ His two middle teeth on the bottom slightly overlapped each other. ‘’He would take me to the movies sometimes. Sometimes we would watch movies at his house. We both really liked to watch movies.’’ My heart rate was slowing down. I could do this. Just tell the truth. ‘’And what is your favorite movie?’’ I looked up at his eyes. Was this some kind of trick? Why did this matter in the investigation? ‘’My favorite movie is Heathers.’’ I looked back down at his mouth. His gaze was too intense for me. ‘’Explain to me the plot of Heathers.’’ There was a scar on the left side of his chin. A very small scar that was in a half moon shape. ‘’It’s about a girl who starts dating a phsycopath, and they murder the most popular people in the school. Why?’’ I looked back up at his eyes. They had narrowed slightly.

‘’Do you know why you’re here?’’ He blinked. I blinked back. ‘’Because you think I killed Raymond.’’ I blinked again. And again. My eyes were drying up. ‘’And supposedly, someone saw me at the scene of the crime which is impossible.’’ This guy was good at his job. But I was better. I had to stay one step ahead of him. ‘’Yes. And do you want to know something that I found interesting?’’ He tilted his head slightly. ‘’I talked to Raymond’s mom, and she said that she has no idea who you are.’’

That caught me off guard. ‘’But I just talked to her on the phone the other day. I’ve been to her house for dinner. She made a platter of cookies for me around Christmas time.’’ I was rambling. I was sweating. I was blinking really fast. I was doing all the things that I had told myself not to do. I had to stop. I could regain control of the situation if I wanted to. ‘’Mrs. Riker told me that she received a phone call from you a few days before the funeral. She said that she thought she didn’t know who she was talking to, and assumed it was one of Raymond’s friends.’’ My bangs were sticking to my sweaty forehead. I unclenched my hands, and the officer looked down when I did. He had definitely noticed. ‘’Mrs. Riker said that she looked through all of Raymond’s contacts, and all his friends were male. Which makes no sense, because she had talked to a female named Sarah on the phone.’’ He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. They were hairy, and he had a tattoo peeking out from under his short sleeve on his right bicep.

‘’How does this link me to the murder? How does this make me a suspect?’’ I had to stop sounding so defensive. ‘’How do you know that she wasn’t just making things up? Obviously, her mental health would have to have suffered from the death of her son.’’ I leaned back in my chair also. I folded my arms. The officer eyed me. ‘’We traced the phone call back to your house.’’ We sat in silence. I didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Riker was lying. She knew who I was. I had been dating her son for the last year.

‘’Raymond’s mother also said that he had never had a girlfriend, at least that she knew of.’’ The officer furrowed his eyebrows. ‘’Well maybe he just never told her about me. I was under the impression that he had told his parents about us, but maybe I was wrong.’’ My foot was tapping on the tile floor. It echoed through the empty room. The officer leaned forward. ‘’Didn’t you just say that you had been to her house multiple times for dinner, and she even made you cookies last Christmas?’’

Shit. This was making no sense. ‘’She knows who I am, ok? I don’t know what you want me to say.’’ I had raised my voice a little bit, and I was breathing heavily. The officer leaned even closer. ‘’Tell me, Stephanie, do you ever pretend to be someone you’re not?’’ What kind of question was that? ‘’No. Why would I do that?’’ My eyes scanned the room. There was nothing to see except white walls and the tile floor. ‘’My fellow officer Rodney, the one who brought you here, said that you told him your name was Sarah Jay.’’ He paused. ‘’But on your birth certificate, and driver’s licence, it says Stephanie Jones.’’

I stared at him. ‘’I’ve been doing some research on you for the last few days, Stephanie. It says here in my notes that you were admitted into Adam River’s Institute for the Mentally Disabled on July 29th of last year. You were held there for showing serious signs of Dissociative Identity Disorder, and you were violent at times. Does any of this ring a bell?’’ I felt like I was going to be sick. The knot in my stomach was tighter than ever, and it felt like it was squeezing me so hard I could hardly breathe. ‘’I got better. I was never going to have to go back there ever again because I was better when I left.’’ I was hyperventilating. How dare he bring this up to me? ‘’Well it doesn’t seem like you did get better, Stephanie, considering you are still struggling with more than one personality.’’ I glowered at him. I was pissed. ‘’Who told you they saw me? Who was it?’’ I was practically yelling now. Donald didn’t even flinch. ‘’Raymond’s next door neighbor, Mrs. Willowbey. She was in her garden when she saw you leave the house with black gloves and a bottle of Tide detergent in your hand, which is what was used to kill Raymond.’’

Tears were streaming down my face. The officer probably thought I was crying because he had figured it out. But no. I didn’t care that he had figured it out. ‘’How dare you call me Stephanie. My name is Sarah Jay!’’ I stood up. ‘’And yes, I fucking killed Raymond Riker! I gave him a cup of Tide detergent, because he said that he was going to kill me! I was in danger! I had every right to kill him!’’ Officer Donald stood up and backed away from me. He picked up his walkie talkie and called for backup. We stood there staring at each other for a second. I was out of control. The knot in my stomach had finally exploded, and everything that had been contained inside of it had come bursting out. Stephanie Jones had been what was trapped in that ball. And even though I had tried so hard to lock her away, she had somehow managed to claw her way back to the surface of my skin and inside the confines of my brain. She had maneuvered Sarah’s hands to do the deed that Stephanie wanted, and my body, Sarah Jay’s body, had become a robot, programmed to do as Stephanie wished. And together, Sarah and Stephanie had killed an unsuspecting boy named Raymond Riker that Sarah had convinced herself she was in love with, even though she had never met him a day in her life.

‘’I’m not going back to that place. I won’t. You can’t make me.’’ My whole body felt like it was being pricked with a thousand tiny little needles. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears. It sounded like a river. Like Adam River. Adam River’s Institute for the Mentally Disabled. The name was burning inside my brain. Like someone took a hot branding iron and pressed it into the soft pink flesh, and it was destroying all the tiny neurons and veins inside. Two pairs of burly arms wrapped around me. The feeling of cold metal around my wrists felt oddly relieving. I knew where I was going. I was going to jail. Stephanie was going to jail. And I finally felt some relief knowing that there was no way in hell that she was ever going to be let back out to control me again.

#idontreallyknow #writing #creativewriting #creative writing #stories #books #creepy #creepy stories #scary #mentally ill #hope you like this!

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idk-mendes · 5 years

Text

damn (what must a woman do); part 2 | s.m.

a/n: sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoy this angsty flashback moment! feedback is always appreciated (oh and please let me know if you want to be added to a taglist!)

summary: an angsty flashback and an awkward phone call

w/c: 2.2k

warning(s): angst, mild cursing

part 1

masterlist

Shawn.

Her head became an echo chamber for his name.

Her phone remained tightly gripped in her hand while the three texts, so short yet so direct, almost devoid of emotions, floated around in her mind like discombobulated images.

Shawn.

She winced at the thought of him. She tried hard to forget him and for a while, it worked. The occasional whiff of his cologne from passing strangers or videos of his interviews popping up on her feed would remind her that he was well and alive, but even so, she managed to keep him out of mind.

Shawn

There was a box buried deep in her mind filled with memories of him that had been chained shut and that remained locked and unopened for the past year. There was no desire to ever open that box.

Shawn

This time though, his name, written in small grey letters above the three text messages was enough to pry the box of memories open. She had no time to react; to sift through those memories and only pull out the pleasant recollections. She pressed her eyes shut, drawing in a slow and deep breath. She dreaded this moment, the one where the contents of the box would be set free.

Standing outside her apartment door contemplating whether to knock was no foreign feeling to him. He knew that feeling all too well, the way his stomach would tie itself into knots, how his palms would clam up and how beads of sweat would start to form along his hairline.

Only this time, it was worse.

He lifted his hand up to knock the door, hesitating for a few seconds before dropping his arm back down to his sides. His fingers fiddled with one another as he took a step back, looking at the apartment door. Letting out a small sigh, he turned away from the door, movements painfully slow.

“Shawn? Is that you? You could’ve just let yourself in, you know? I gave you the keys for a reason.” He heard her voice ring out as her keys jangled to unlock the door.

“I – uhhhh…“ Shawn’s head whipped around, stuttering as he scrambled to find the right words to say.

“Hm? Oh my god please don’t tell me you’ve lost the keys”

He had no response.

“Whatever,” She filled the silence “Hurry up and come in, I’ve got to hand in this paper before the deadline tonight.” She gestured towards the dining table which had her computer propped up. The table was littered with books, all seemingly 10 inches thick and opened to pages that were tagged with post-it notes.

He shook his head lightly and let out a small chuckle. He loved how invested she would get in everything she did. He took one large stride towards her and towered over her tiny frame. He brought her into his arms in for their customary hug, holding her tightly and giving her a little squeeze.

“God how I’ve missed you,” she muttered with her face buried in his chest.

“Me too,” he quietly let out, his palms, still as sweaty and his stomach, still as knotted as before. He had to tell her.

Pulling away from their hug, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Fixing his gaze on her, he took in a deep breath.

“Look –“ His sentence barely started before he was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing.

She looked back towards her phone that was on the table and back at him again before mouthing “one minute” and taking quick strides back into the apartment.

Feeling slightly defeated, his hands gripped into white-knuckled fists.

Glancing in her direction, he saw her leaning against the windowsill, pen in her hand, tapping on her bottom lip as she listened intently to whoever was on the other side of that phone. She took down notes on a small post-it as the other person spoke. He remembered giving her stacks upon stacks of post-it notes, knowing how she could go through them like no one else could.

He made himself comfortable on the couch while waiting for her call to end, plopping down and propping his leg up on the coffee table. He played mindlessly with his fingers while his head swum with thoughts. He crafted a plethora of different ways the conversation he was about to have would pan out, but he knew one thing was certain; that it was now or never.

“Oh my god that was exhausting!” She huffed, “I just don’t get it! Why do people think it’s okay to waste so much of my time just to tell me one small piece of information?”

Sighing loudly as she plopped down on the couch next to him, she continued, “I mean, you should’ve heard how much useless shit that phone call contained!”

His gaze shifted from staring at his hands, which were now tangled with each other, to her sprawled out figure on the couch.

He noticed how beads of sweat dotted her forehead and her chest was dewy with a thin layer of sweat. Her army green tank top clung onto her body as she got up to turn the fan to her direction.

Closing her eyes, she let the wind blow on her flushed, glowy face, through her hair and down her tank top, temporary licking away the heat.

“So, what’s up?” She inquired to fill the silence. Her back was turned against him as she positioned herself in front of the fan.

“Well, I uh – I…. I wanted to see you.” He mumbled under his breath.

Hearing the apprehension in his voice, her head swerved around as she eyed him cautiously.

“Okay? And you’re here now so… yay?” She said while raising one of her eyebrows, unsure of how to respond to him.

Thick silence filled the air. His gaze flickered between her, his hands and the ground and eventually settled on the ground. Going back to playing with his hands, he cracked the knuckles of his right hand, the cracks slicing right through the silence, making it all the more apparent.

“Look, Shawn, I have a paper to write,” She let out an exasperated sigh, “so you can sit here until you figure out what it is that you want to say.” She turned away and headed towards the dining table, setting herself down next to the computer and started to type away.

He remained sat on the couch.

This shouldn’t be so hard. What are you; a coward? He said to himself.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, maybe he could’ve softened the blow. All the “maybe”s didn’t matter, though; he couldn’t bite his lip. Words rolled off his tongue and the sentences strung were anything but merciful.

“Listen, I… I’m sorry I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know how to say it but I like you… so much,” He rambled on, “you were always the one. From the moment I saw you ‘til now, you’ve always been the one.”

The clicks of her keyboard had stopped. Her eyes peered up from her computer screen to see Shawn standing up, facing her, his hands gripping the backrest of the couch. As he spoke, he moved closer to the dining table.

“I don’t know why it took me so long to tell you and I probably sound stupid but I thought that you should know.” He paused, drawing in a deep breath.

“I wanted you to know”

“Why are you telling me this?” She said so quietly, almost whispering.

“I – ” He could barely get a sentence in before she cut him off.

She could sense her ears getting hot and the pit in her belly forming. Her voice started raising, growing thick with frustration “What is your plan, Shawn? You go on tour in two days. Two days!”

“I’m… I’m sorry… It was never meant to be like this, I swear” He stuttered.

“Is that all you came to say? To confess your love then walk away?” She called out to him as he turned his back, “How do you do this?”

“Do what?” He stopped in his tracks.

“Pretend like you don’t see this…” She gestured to the space between them, “See us. You can’t have possibly been so oblivious to everything that has gone on for the past year. For god’s sake, even our friends think that we’re together!”

The pads of her index finger and thumb rubbed against her eyebrows exasperatedly as her voice raised to a shout. “It was always you who pulled the brakes. So, I gave you time and I gave you space. I thought that someday you’d come around; that someday you’d see just how much I loved you.” Breathlessness soon caught up to her.

“Can’t you see it, Shawn?” Her voice cracked as she spoke. Her eyes were glassy, brimming with tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.

Oh, how his heart twisted seeing her like this. He had never meant to hurt her, to leave her like this. It was never meant to be like this. He wanted to hold her, to tell her that they would be okay; that they would make it – but it was too late.

He stood there, rooted to the ground, unable to move.

“Fuck – we would have never worked! You had your studies and I had my career. We both know it wouldn’t have worked.” He managed to let out, his voice laced with pain.

“I’ll be back in five months, just – please,” His hands tugged on loose strands of his hair, “let’s talk about this another time just…. just forget I said anything.”

“You know what? Just go.” She spat out, “There is no “another time”, Shawn. I’m done. I’m done with giving you time and I’m done with waiting, so just go.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her. Those words stung him as much as it stung her to say. As he walked out the door, he didn’t turn back.

The ringing of her phone sweeps her back into reality.

Caller ID: Shawn

She knew that he’d call her only if she didn’t reply his messages, the only thing being that these were the first messages she had received from him in almost a year.

She could feel her heart pounding through her chest.

Not knowing what to expect, she braced for impact. As she pressed the green “accept call” button, she closed her eyes and gnawed on her bottom lip.

“Hey.”

His voice rang through the speaker. He was in a hotel room right around the corner from her apartment. He gripped his phone tightly, palms clammy with nervous sweat. It was as if holding it any looser would cause the phone to slip out of his hands and that his brief moment with her would be terminated.

She winced at the sound of his voice – It had been so long since she heard his voice. It was as soft as she had remembered it to be.

“Hi.” She replied curtly.

He expected nothing more than curt, he didn’t expect friendly or welcoming or apologetic so curt was good, he decided.

A long pause stretched out before he awkwardly piped up, “So, how have you been?”

Small talk – she spoke about her graduation briefly before stopping abruptly, worrying that she might have rambled too much. This was a phone call with Shawn, after all; she couldn’t be rambling.

On the other end of the phone, he bathed in the glory of her voice. He let every syllable she uttered wash over him and through him. He missed her voice; her voice sounded just like it did in his dreams and memories, so firm yet so incredibly gentle.

“I was in the area and was wondering if..." his hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he spoke, "if um you’d be up for dinner?” He proposed apprehensively.

His heart hammered against his chest like that of a little boy asking his first crush out on a date. He shuddered at the thought of her rejecting his gesture of reaching out. He sat on the edge of the hotel bed, his legs anxiously kicking against the bedframe as he waited for her response.

Her breath hitched and she cleared her throat to fill the silence while she pondered her answer.

Finally, “Okay,” she bit her lip as she replied him.

“See you there, then.”

Click – she hung up. Oh god, what have I gotten myself into? She sighed as she collapsed onto the couch, too exhausted to move.

Click – he hung up. In a hotel room not far from her apartment, Shawn fell back onto the bed, phone laying on his chest. Oh god, what have I gotten myself into? He wondered.

#shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes x reader #shawn peter raul mendes #my writing #damn what must a woman do #shawn fic #shawn fanfic #shawn x reader #shawn mendes

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wildwhiskey236 · 5 years

Text

Character Interview Tag

I was tagged by @albarnesauthor!

We will be interviewing my OC’s from my NaNo WIP Embracing Shadows. (A/N- I wanna do this a little differently than what I’ve done before, so it may get long but stick with me.)

Our five assholes sit in the laughably nondescript room, scowls immediately crossing their faces, protests on their lips at the description. The author reminds them of their current behavior in their story and all protests die on their lips, several of them muttering an agreement that yeah, maybe they were assholes.

1: What is your full name?

“Hector Greatsnarl.”

“Lauren Rosewing.”

“Lindsey Hallowedstrike.”

“Davy Evenflaw.”

“Natia Stoutblossom.”

Eyes turn to Natia, Hector and Lauren giving her a flat stare while Lindsey smirked, Davy commented, “We all know that isn’t your real name, no need to lie about it anymore.”

“Fine. My real name is Aster- but I prefer Natia.”

2: What does your full name mean?

“Well Aster means star and Natia means light, which is why I chose it.”

“Ever the romantic. Lindsey means from an island, which is appropriate I guess but I think my parents were trying to pick the least elven name possible.”

“I like your name. Davy means beloved.”

“Lauren is vaguely based off of a tree, Laurel.”

“Not surprising for a fairy. Hector means to hold fast.”

3: What are your other names/nicknames

“Most of us respond to ‘that asshole’.” Lindsey leaned back in his chair. “I call Davy my vhenan.“

“You have literally never called me that.”

“Maybe I should start. It means ‘my heart’ in elven.”

“No offense,” Lauren cut in, “But you two are about as far away from elven as I have ever seen.”

4: What’s your gender?

Everyone glanced at each other. Hector, Lindsey, and Davy were all men, built like the soldiers they were. Natia was lithe and strong like the assassin and hunter she was, but she still took hold of her own femininity. Lauren, ever the academic, was softer and had the gentler curves of someone who didn’t spend her life training and fighting with weapons.

5: What’s your sexuality?

“In case you didn’t pick it up, I am Not Straight (TM). Men, women, elf, dwarf, fairy, human, nymph- but I’m taken.” Lindsey said, casting a soft look to Davy.

“I’m gay.”

“I’ve never been interested in romance or sex. What the word for it? Asexual?Aromantic? Yeah, those are me.” Lauren offered up, somewhat satisfied that she finally got to say it.

“I’m straight.” Natia said, followed by Hector’s “Me too.”

6: Where are you from?

“I’m from the Highlands, just East of Provda and Ebarria. I’m here to study human and dwarven magical practices.” Lauren perked up before quieting herself and rambling.

“I’m from Ilseburry up north. It’s much better here in Provda.” Lindsey said.

“Natia and I are half-Provdan half-Ebarrian.” Hector offrered.

“But you grew up in Provda and I grew up in Ebarria. They are very different places.”

“I’m also half Provdan- my mother was an elf from the Highlands, but I’ve never been there.” Davy added.

7: How old are you?

“Go ahead Lauren. Tell them hold old you are.” Natia smirked, heat rising to the fairy’s face.

“Fairies mature slower than humans or elves. Just because I’m in my forties-”

“Really? I thought I was the oldest one at 28.” Davy signed in relief. Lindsey smirked.

“I’m 27.”

“I’m 25.” Hector said, eyes turning to Natia again, who had sunken down in her chair.

“I didn’t realize how old all of you were.” She muttered. “I’m only 23.”

“So Lauren, how’s the baby-sitting going?”

“I’m going to outlive all you humans and elves.”

8: What is your magic form/what species are you?

“Well, I’m a fairy with a natural affinity for magic.” Lauren restated.

“I’m elven. But not a stuffy, traditional, better-than-you elf. ” Lindsey’s pointed ears twitched.

“I’m half elven. The worst kind of elven apparently.” Davy commented, a slight bitter tone tracing his words.

“Better than us humans.” Natia offered, her own tone lighter and more playful as she glanced at Hector.

9: What does your human form look like?

“I take offense at that.” Lauren joked, her long brown hair curled over her shoulder, green eyes practically sparkling with humor.

Lindsey also snorted, his own blue eyes rolling at the question. Above his brow his straight blonde hair was slicked back as he ran a hand over it, stretching out in the chair. Davy sat still beside him, brown eyes and curly brown hair speaking for themselves, his slightly pointed nose giving him an impish, elvish effect, the tips of his smaller pointed ears just visible through the curls.

Hector also leaned back in his chair, his longer black hair curling around his neck, his deeply tanned skin and dark brown eyes speaking for themselves. Natia’s skin was darker, her long dark brown hair pulled back in a braid and lighter brown eyes watching me with an exasperated face that said, “Move on to the next questions already.”

10: What’s your aesthetic?

Natia fingered her daggers, exquisitely crafted from silver and decorated with obsidian, heavily enchanted and small diamonds inlaid to represent the gods she worshiped.

“Beaches with gold sand and dark blue water. We didn’t have beaches like that in Ilseburry.” Lindsey said wistfully, longing to be there instead of answering more questions.

“The forests at sunset, the dark green and golden pink skies.” Davy added quietly.

“I miss the flowers that grew in the Highlands, with blue petals and pink centers. They were really pretty.” Lauren picked at her dress of the same colors.

“I like when night turns into a red daybreak before a storm.” Hector said, giving no other explanation.

11: Who’s your best friend?

“Lindsey,”

“Davy,”

The two of them said together, Hector poutning. He wasn’t sure what he expected from them but he muttered, “Davy and Lindsey,” anyway, sad still that they were his best friends but he wasn’t theirs.

“My brother Zach.” Lauren said.

“...” Natia hestiated. “Probably Hector.”

The group glanced at each other and then at me, indicating that it was time to move and make a sharp change of subject.

12: Would you ever get a piercing/ tattoo?

“I’ve got a few piercings.” Natia indicated to her ears with several studs placed up an down her ears. “I was never into tattoos.”

“I’ve got a tattoo of my parents names in respect for them.” Hector indicated to his forearm where the two names were inked.

“I always thought it would be sexy if-” Lindsey started, but Davy cut him off.

“No. I said I wouldn’t do that.” Blood rushed to Davy’s face and ears.

13: When are you happiest?

“In the tavern with my friends.” Hector was the first to speak up.

“With Lindsey, after getting back from a hunt or scouting mission and just getting to eat or fall asleep together.” Lindsey looked at Davy again with soft eyes, nodding.

“When I finally perfect a spell or potion or enchantment, seeing my effort turn into something.” Lauren continued.

“I don’t feel like answering this question.” The others gave Natia a look. “Fine, bickering with you all, you assholes.”

They awed.

“The baby enjoys our company.”

14: What’s your biggest secret?

Everyone looked to Natia.

“I mean, it's not a secret anymore.” She started, sighing. “I was part of a group of assassins and my kill count is somewhere in the hundreds. I ran away, changed my name, and lied to everyone about it for two years. Anyone else got a secret?”

“My parents were killed by said assassins.” Hector said darkly.

“This is supposed to be a light-hearted interview not couples therapy. My biggest secret is that my father was King of Ilseburry.”

“You’re just now mentioning this?!” Davy gasped, a grin breaking across Lindsey’s face.

“No, I’m just a notorious trickster. Davy’s secret is that he gets very cranky when his socks get wet.”

“It’s an unpleasant feeling!”

“Back in the Highlands, I’m actually considered to not be very pretty according to fairy standards. I’ve never told anyone that.” Lauren casually dropped, the others once again glancing to each other. Somehow that seemed unbelievable but no one knew enough about fairies to object.

15: What was your first impression of your S/O?

“What a giant dork.” Davy muttered, earning a laugh from everyone but Lindsey, who looked away, slightly embarrassed. “He was trying to flirt with me and tripped over a tree root, falling face first into thistle bush.”

“Thanks, babe. Here I was going to say you were the exact image of what I thought an elf should be- graceful, good looking, and into nature shit, if not just a little short. Are we done here yet? We have people to kill now.”

Lindsey didn’t wait before getting up and leaving the room, Davy and Hector following after him, Lauren profusely apologizing as she left, closing the door behind her.

I started gathering my notes before- hey? Where did Natia go?

“Don’t move.” I heard the voice after I felt the press of a cool blade against my neck, Natia grabbing my hair to hold my head back and expose my neck better.

“This is a warning. You better finish this damn WIP and you better give them a good ending. If not I’ll reach through the computer screen and give you the worst writer’s block you’ve ever experienced.”

In an instant the knife was gone and I sucked in air, breathing heavy before turning around, Natia just gone.

I, uh, I’ve got work to do.

I’ll tag @weathershade, @crypticsx, @emdop, @milkyway-writes if any of you feel like doing one of these!

#character interview #writeblr #writing #embracing shadows #tagged #was this even interesting or a good idea #or was it dumb #probably both #this was really just an experiment of how many times I can use 'said' without using 'said'#sorry its so long

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sinfullystanning · 5 years

Text

Ruin My Life Pt. 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Genre: Angst

Inspired by the song: Ruin My Life by Zara Larson

A/N: The events of this story take place during Civil War, with flashbacks to right after the events of The Winter Soldier. I’m also open to making a sequel for this if enough people want one.

You stared at the ceiling, watching the fan go round and round like the train of thought that was all tangled into an unintelligible mess in your mind. It had been a week. A week since your relatively normal life had been turned upside down.

***

It all started about two years ago. You had graduated from college a year before that, determined to see the world before settling down. Unfortunately, your money had run out before your thirst for adventure had, and you’d been forced to settle in Bucharest. You’d finally settled into some sort of normalcy when your life had changed for the better. Of course, that wasn’t obvious the day your meal prep was interrupted by the shattering of glass from the living room and you watched with shock and horror as a shadowy clad figure crashed in, landing lightly, like a cat. Your hands were moving before your brain could process the man turning to you, placing a single finger over his lips, swinging the frying pan you’d grabbed in self-defense, smacking it into the stranger’s head, knocking him out cold. Warily, you’d approached the unconscious figure, squatting down to gently brush the long dark brown hair out of his face. He was handsome in a rugged way, with a cloth mask riding the bottom half of his face. Curious fingers gently pushed down the fabric, revealing a light spattering of stubble and soft lips. Your eyes drifted to the already swelling bump on the side of his head where you’d whacked him. Wincing guiltily, you stood up and headed to the kitchen to see if you had some ice to put on that.

When the man finally came to, you'd moved him, with some difficulty, onto the ratty excuse for a couch you had. You were back in the kitchen, trying your best to make something that your unexpected guest would find edible. You’d long since gotten used to your own terrible cooking so it hardly phased you anymore, but his taste buds probably wouldn’t be so kind. You caught sight of him stirring out of the corner of your eye and placed your utensils down, grabbing a plum from the basket on the counter, biting into it as you leaned on the doorframe, watching as he straightened up, blinked the sleep from his eyes and scanned the room, clearly confused. Then, he noticed you, jumping up, hands fumbling for something he couldn’t seem to find.

“Looking for this?” You fought to keep the nerves out of your voice as you held up the gun you’d found on him. His eyes widened for a split second before he winced and reached a hand up to the noticeable bump on the side of his head. “Sorry about that,” you spit out, embarrassed, “It’s just when a strange man breaks into your house, you’re not exactly thinking straight. I put some ice on it so hopefully, it doesn’t hurt too much?” You bit your lip to keep yourself from rambling.

He nodded silently, not looking at you, clearly focused on something else, before sitting back down on the couch, setting his head in his hands for a long second before shoving one through his hair as he looked at you again. “Thank you for that, I just… I’m sorry about your window.” He glanced at where you’d taped up some cardboard to cover the gaping hole to keep the cold outside.

“So,” you said, hesitating slightly until he turned back to look at you, piercing icy blue eyes asking you to continue, “Who were you running away from?” He frowned as if trying to remember himself.

“It’s a long story.” He sighed. “Anyway, I should go.” He stood up before grabbing his head again. You set the gun down on the counter, wiping plum juice off your hands onto your jeans, crossing the room to set a nervous hand on his arm. He looked up at you.

“Look, I’m no doctor, but I’m going to have to ask you to stay here until your head is better. It’s my fault it happened, anyway.” You glanced around the one-room apartment. “I don’t have a lot that I can offer you, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. No one else ever comes around here, so you should be safe from whoever you’re running away from.”

***

That’s how it started. Bucky had agreed to lay low with you for a month and then move on. The problem was that you fell into a rhythm, coming back home from exhausting days working your ass off to stay afloat financially and maybe tuck everything but the bare minimum in hopes that you could get home one day, finding Bucky waiting for you when you came home in the way that no one had in years. After spending so long being lonely, you didn’t have to be anymore, and so when Bucky decided it was time to leave, you’d thrown your arms around his waist from behind, begging him to stay, trembling with shame at your own helplessness and the fear that he would say no. But he didn’t. He hadn’t even put up a fuss, just put his bag down and pulling you into his arms.

After that, Bucky went from being just a temporary house guest to being a real friend to you. He opened up, talking more, telling you the complicated story of how he’d been a soldier in World War II until he’d been cryogenically frozen and conditioned into a killing machine. At first, you hadn’t believed him until he’d shown you his original dog tags from the army and that was when you knew that you could never let him go.

Somewhere in the next two years, the two of you began dancing along the line between friends and something else, and you don’t even remember when you both crossed over. That was when for the first time since you’d come to Budapest, you were finally, truly happy. For once, you didn’t mind how dingy and cramped your apartment or that you slept on your sofa while Bucky took a mattress on the floor, you were simply happy to be with Bucky. Bucky came out of his shell, physically and emotionally, finally allowing you convince him to let you ask the man you worked for, who was renting you the apartment, to find work for Bucky too.

Over the next year and a half, things were looking up. You had a loving boyfriend and another set of hands helping you save up to get home. For the first time, that goal seemed visible and it felt almost too good to be true.

That was until a week ago. You remembered the day the world went wrong all over again. You were out shopping for dinner. You never got to go proper shopping because of the long demanding hours of your job, but by some miraculous chance, the evening had been cleared and all employees had been sent home early. You were picking up some plums for Bucky, he seemed to love them, when your phone rang. You fished the battered up, dated flip phone from your bag to see Bucky’s name flash across the screen.

“Buck, guess what I’m buying!” You chirped happily, but you were cut off as Bucky interrupted you.

“Y/N, where are you?” His voice was harsh and full of fear. Your brow crinkled in confusion and worry.

“I’m at the market, my evening shift got canceled today, why?”

“Whatever you do, don’t go home. Do you hear me? Get as far away from there as possible. Get somewhere safe and stay there.” Bucky’s voice sounded more stressed with each sentence and you could hear your heart in your ears.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You couldn’t keep the fear out of your voice.

“I don’t have time to explain right now, Y/N, you need to promise me you’ll get as far away from home as possible.” You were too shaken up to say anything, but Bucky broke the silence. “Y/N, please, promise me.”

“I-I promise, Buck, just, please be safe.” You hesitated. “I need you to promise me something too. Promise me I’ll see you again.” You held your breath, terrified that he would tell you what you were too afraid to even think about.

“I promise.” You let out the breath you were holding. “I promise, Y/N, I’ll come for you, I promise.” You felt a traitorous tear running down your cheek as you clenched your phone tightly. “I need to go, but remember, I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Bucky.” The line went dead. You glanced in the general direction of your apartment before remembering your promise to Bucky and turning the other way and slipping through the busy crowd as far away as you could get.

As you were running, something caught your eye. In a trash can outside a small ship lay today’s world newspaper and the headline read “Winter Soldier Căutat Pentru Bombardmentul Din Vienna.” You grabbed it, confused. Bucky had been here all week, not in Vienna, what was going on? You folded up the paper, taking it with you as you ran.

That night, you returned to your apartment. You’d seen footage of an attack on the place on the news in the cafe where you’d taken cover on the other side of town. Unfortunately, it was closed now so you’d decided to see if the coast was clear at home. The building seemed deserted so you went inside. The stairwell showed evidence of a fight and you felt small as you climbed the stairs to your apartment. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your mouth when you reached the wight floor to see your door ripped off its hinges with a gaping hole in it. The inside was worse, there was broken furniture everywhere and bullets were strewn across the ground. No blood at least, and you let out a shaky breath of relief. In short, the place was totaled. Unfortunately, you had nowhere else to go, so you began cleaning.

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, you used the last of your strength to lean the broken door back against its frame for some semblance of privacy. As you tried to calm yourself down by going through your typical morning routine, you kept catching yourself looking at the door, waiting for Bucky to return. But he didn’t. At least not until yesterday.

***

You’d woken up to a gentle hand brushing the hair out of your face, eyes flying open to meet Bucky’s icy blue ones. “Buck!” You exclaimed as your wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest as he gripped you tightly. You pulled back, looking him over, scanning for injuries, relaxing when you found none. That was when you noticed the blonde man standing a short distance away. You got off of the couch, crossing the room to extend a hand to him. “You must be Steve.” He gave you a polite smile as he shook your hand.

“And you must be Y/N.” You nodded. Bucky interrupted.

“What are you doing here? This place doesn’t even have a proper door.” You sighed and crossed your arms across your chest.

“It’s not all bad, plus I still pay rent for this place, remember? So, are you going to tell me what happened now?” Bucky exchanged a mysterious glance with Steve before sighing.

“I wish I could, but I don’t have the time right now, I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Y/N, I know these aren’t the best circumstances, but I have to leave, and I don’t know when I’ll be back so, I-”

You cut him off. “No, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare break up with me, Bucky Barnes.” You felt a surge of frustrated anger as tears pricked the backs of your eyes.

You could see the guilt in his eyes as he explained. “Y/N, something’s going on with my head. Right now I’m not stable and I could lose control at any time, and the last thing I want to do is accidentally hurt you because of that, so Steve’s taking me somewhere where I can get help, get better.”

“You’re hurting me right now, you dumb jerk!” You yelled as the tears began to run down your cheeks. You brushed them away with angry hands. Then Bucky was in front of you, gripping your wrists in his hands as you tried to pry them free and hit him.

“I don’t want to ruin your life, Y/N.” He leaned his forehead against yours and you glared at his blue eyes. “But, I’ll be back. I’ll get better and I’ll be back, I just don’t know how long that will be.” He admitted.

“Buck, please. Don’t go.” You croaked your voice hoarse from crying.

***

But he’d gone. And now you were lying on the couch wishing you’d tried harder to get him to stay. Finally, you gave in. You grabbed your phone off the floor and pushed a few buttons, waiting as the phone. The moment you heard the click as the call connected, the dam in your throat broke and words came rushing out. “Bucky, I don’t care. I don’t care if I get hurt. I want you to ruin my life. That’s why I fell in love with you in the first place! Just, come home, or let me come to you! I don’t want to be alone without you, Buck!” You paused to catch your breath and heard an unfamiliar voice clear its throat before Steve’s embarrassed voice came on.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but Bucky’s not here right now. He, he’s back on the ice. He asked for it himself until we can find a way to fix him. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t remember ending the call, just the empty quiet that followed afterward.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #angst #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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pr1ncessjasm1ne · 5 years

Text

Love Sick

Summary: Y/N reminisces on memories that have led to the confessions of her best friend, [college!]Grayson, admitting his feelings. Word Count: ~ 5,600 Warnings: Cursing, mentions of smoking and drinking, but mostly fluff. A/N: Yikes, this is my first time posting for this fandom and NOT on my side blog, this is also the first time I write with a concept that I really like and needed for myself. I grew to love it and I might make a part 2, so PLEASE FEEL FREE TO GIVE FEEDBACK AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD WANT A SECOND PART!!! <3

tags: @cutesydolan @joeyskinnyleg @hmmmethan @ohmydolantwins

My days at university have been exceptionally beautiful during many moments. I was getting to date my best friend, whom I met here. It was an occurrence that I never really expected. It all started my freshman year. It was move-in day, to be exact.

“Mom, it’s to the left,” I instruct her on the other end of the large, blue plastic moving cart that we had unloaded my stuff into from our car. It was move in day for my first year of college, and I was ecstatic to be settled in and meeting new people to make friends immediately. I was also super excited to finally be away from home where I had never been allowed out of the house.

“Okay, number 205, right?” she asks as she slows down in front of the room. I nod in confirmation and move around to unlock the door. I guess I beat my roommate, since it was empty.

“Sweet, I want the bottom bunk!” I smiled at my mom as I started to walk in and she followed with the cart.

“Yay! If you fall off when you’re sleeping, you’re only a couple of feet off the ground!” She teased. She likes to think I’m a huge clutz in avoiding the reality that she’s oblivious to, which is that she’s the huge clutz. But whatever. I rolled my eyes in response and asked her to start putting the sheets on my bed while I go get the second cart with my dad.

The second I stepped out my door, I bumped in to a taller, larger man holding a huge box that hit my face. “Oh shit- I’m so, so sorry!” I heard as I clenched my eyes shut and held my hands to my temple. I open my eyes to find a pair of beautiful, deep green orbs decorated with some thick and sharp eyebrows currently furrowed with concern.

“Uh… it’s ‘kay,” I giggled. I felt like I forgot the entire English language in that moment. I continued my hold on my temple before he gently removed my hands by the wrists, making me shiver a bit.

“Oh no, did the corner of the box hit you? It looks like you have a little cut.. oh my god, I’m so-“

“Hey, it’s fine! Nothing a little Neosporin can’t fix,” I reassure, “just be a little more careful, please. I’m asking for everyone.” He sports a small smirk and I caught his cute little dimple. The little dimple I didn’t know I would ever come to love so much.

“Okay, you got it. But still, I’m so sorry. Can I do anything?” He asks, without realizing someone was behind him trying to push another cart. It was my dad, bringing in the second cart I was supposed to help him with.

“Y/N, who’s this?” My dad blatantly asks. Grayson drops his hold on my hands and looks up. Dad has never been fond of any boys in my life, saying they were clearly only after one thing. It was no different with any stranger who looked between 17 and 20 years old. He’s a little overprotective, I guess.

“Good question, what’s your name, boy-who-hit-me-with-his-box?” I cross my arms and cock an eyebrow. He shifts his eyes between my dad and I, growing a little red in the face.

“I promise it was an accident- I’m Grayson…” he smiles a bit awkwardly. I couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction to my dad’s glare after I mentioned the incident that brought our meet, to begin with.

My dad completely dismissed Grayson’s existence and asked me to move out of the doorway to bring the first cart in and replace it with the second one. I did as I was told and moved over to let my parents handle the moving for a second.

“Do you need any help with that box, by the way?” I asked, pointing down at the box he had dropped when he grabbed my wrists. He quickly bent down to pick it up and let out a small chuckle.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a spotter to make sure I don’t hit anyone else,” he smiled in my direction. How am I supposed to resist that smile? I moved to be in front of him and led him down to the boy’s hall of the residence.

“What number?” I asked, slowing down my pace as we made our way down.

“220, right there,” he pointed me to the door just a few feet away. I helped him steer clear of a couple of parents he couldn’t see, and probably would have hit with his obscenely large moving box. I noticed the door was prompted open, so I let myself in. I let curiosity get the best of me and decided to watch him for a bit.

“Bottom or top bunk?” I asked. He set the box down behind me and dropped to his knees to start unpacking it.

“I want the bottom bunk, but I know my brother is going to use the ‘I was born first’ card to claim it once he gets here,” he sighs. I take the liberty to sit down on the bottom bunk to test it out.

“Hmm. Unless you want to hit your head constantly on the top bunk, I think you dodged a bullet there,” I stated while holding the metal bars above me.

“Same difference, I’ll hit my head up on the ceiling, too. I just don’t wanna climb,” he smiles. He shifts his focus from the box over to me, and I notice he caught a glance of my exposed thighs in my shorts. I immediately felt a bit insecure and I covered them with my hands before standing up.

“True. Well, good luck to you, Grayson. I have to go help my parents before they complain and say I’m avoiding them,” I say while peeping into his box. It looked like a bunch of tech stuff and lost interest for the moment, making a mental note to ask about it later. “I’ll see you around,” I sport my biggest smile as I leave the room.

“Bye, Y/N!”

I saw Grayson very frequently that year. We bumped into each other nearly every day first semester; I saw him after sociology as I was making my way into the building and he was making his way to class. During midterms season in early October, I would get annoyed of my roommate talking to her boyfriend from back home every single night while I was trying to study. I decided to go in the common room of the residence hall one night and found Grayson taking up an entire table with his laptop, books, and notes spread out as he was studying. That night, he was wearing a white hoodie and gray sweats, looking real cute and cozy. He had his hood up and fidgeted with the strings, which I later found out he did often. He was alone in the common room, which indicated that it was pretty late at night considering that was a popular study space. Even though there was plenty of space, I still sat at the table he occupied because I didn’t want him to feel lonely, even if we were both going to be silently working on our own things. That quickly turned out to be the opposite of what we intended. Every time we started studying, he would ask me random questions about myself and got me rambling for hours. Eventually, this became a problem because we would never really get work done. I found out his twin brother, Ethan, was always playing video games late at night while he tried to study. I didn’t mind that I would hardly get my work done with him. I enjoyed getting to know him every few nights at 3 in the morning until the sun rose and we called it a night and went on with our lives.

Second semester, I found him in my statistics class. Our late-night study sessions, therefore, started to become intentional as well as more frequent. The fact that we both actually needed to study and had each other for support didn’t stop us from getting distracted and talking about literally anything else. I also started hanging out with him in our rooms which eventually led to hanging out outside of the residence hall. We started going to the dining halls together along with his brother, Ethan, and my new friend Alena. Alena quickly made a move on Ethan one night while we were all taking a walk around the lake nearby to stargaze. I was very happy for them when they shared their first kiss together, but it made me a bit sad when I had no one to share an experience like that with. Grayson suggested I should get on tinder, but I didn’t cave then. I was always hoping something would spark between us and bring us together and I don’t think I would have wanted there to be a chance for it to happen with someone else. Not at that time.

Over summer, Grayson and Ethan went back to New Jersey, while Alena went back to her hometown of San Angelo, Texas. I made my way back to my small town in California, which was only a few hours away from our university. I was happy to be back home, but I missed Grayson more than anyone. We started sending one another consistent snapchats of random things that happened throughout our day. Or random selfies with “bored” somewhere on the caption. It always depended on the day, really. But there was never a day I didn’t see his gorgeous face on my screen. At some point in the summer, we started to facetime at night, continuing our late-night chats from the study room. Most times, he would be sending me things to watch on youtube and watch my reaction. It was something we liked to do at our distracted study nights as well. Other times, we would just keep each other company while we played video games or one of us was trying to sleep. It became habitual to fall asleep to the sound of Grayson Dolan’s soft snores even though he had never physically slept next to me. I almost couldn’t sleep the night I moved back up for the second year of college.

“This apartment is sick, [Y/N]! You could throw parties here!” Grayson exclaimed, sitting on my new bed. I let out a small giggle as I sat next to him. “I’m not really a party girl, Gray,” I tilted my head at him. He averted his gaze and stared at his lap.

“You’re right, but I’ll be coming over a lot. This is way better than the small studio Ethan got us stuck with,” he said shifting his eyes back to mine. I felt a slight rush of heat and decided to lay down and stare at the ceiling to shake off the effect Grayson’s eyes had on me. I hadn’t looked into them since the last day before summer, and I forgot how intimidating they were. I always felt like Grayson could see into my soul and take it to keep whenever he laid eyes on me.

“You’re welcome to stay whenever Ethan won’t stop geeking out,” I offered. “But you’re also welcome whenever, and you know that”. I was trying so hard to suppress the smile that threatened to stretch out my cheeks. I felt him lay back next to me, and I shifted my attention to his face.

“Thanks, beautiful,” he almost whispered. I swear if it had been any lower, I wouldn’t have heard him. I almost pretended not to hear it, but my smile and blushing cheeks made it evident. I quickly sat up again, shaking off this feeling.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want Grayson to know how I felt, nor was it that I was afraid of rejection. I genuinely just wanted to keep Grayson around as platonic as I could for as long as I could. I also did not think he was anywhere in my league, but I wouldn’t let that flood my mind. I enjoyed Grayson and his company. His actions and words never crossed any boundaries of mine and I couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not. Regardless, he was my best friend and Alena would kill me if she heard me say it. I tried to tell myself I was just lusting over my best friend because I was horny, and he was the closest guy I had around. Besides him and Ethan, I didn’t have many guy friends who were straight in my life at the moment. And I definitely did not want to pursue Ethan after him and Alena had hooked up one night and she caught feelings for him- BAD. And I can’t blame her. Ethan was amazing, sweet, hilarious, and the tinge bit of annoying was actually endearing on him. However, he was no Grayson to me. Sure, Ethan checked up on me and sent me random memes every now and then. But my second year showed me just how close Grayson and I were going to get.

It was a cold night during finals week of first semester when I was studying at the library and I got my period out of nowhere. No, it wasn’t just that I was far from my apartment and couldn’t get a pad that made me lose it. It was also that I was so close to failing the class I was studying for, and it was that I had spent 14 hours studying the material that day alone, and that I hadn’t had a proper sleep for 4 days also studying for this exam.

While I was sitting in the bathroom stall, crying my eyes out at 1 am, I tried to call Alena to see if she could bring me a pad or tampon from home. To my dismay, her phone was off and I kept getting sent to voicemail. Just a few minutes later, I got a text from Grayson, who had also been studying with me at the library:

gray<3: hey u good?

I knew he was no stranger to periods and wasn’t one of those boys to get freaked out by it, so I decided to call him.

“Hey, what’s up? You’ve been in the bathroom for a while. I got worried,” he said. I tried to muffle my sobs and get myself together.

“I got my period and I don’t have anything with me, Alena won’t pick u-“

“HEY does anyone have a pad or tampon?” I heard Grayson say away from the speaker. “My friend is in the bathroom, she doesn’t have anyth- oh thanks! Yeah I think she’s in the bathroom on this floor,” he said to someone else. I started laughing at his shameless behavior. He was never hesitant to make sure I was taken care of but this was just amusing to me. “Okay a blonde girl is gonna come in there any minute now, she had something useful,” he giggles. I reciprocate the laughter as my heart jumps a little bit.

“Thanks, Grayson,” I say before hanging up.

While small, the gesture stuck with me that night. He also went to the campus convince store located across from the library and bought me some snacks to cheer me up while we studied a bit longer. When we were done, he walked me back to my apartment and stayed the night. When I asked him why he wanted to spend the night during the most stressful time of our semester when he could be bundled up and cozy in his own bed, he said he would rather make sure I’m extra warm and getting cuddled when I was on my period and stressing over exams. This was new territory in our friendship and we had yet to test the waters. We had cuddled before, but it was always for a short period of time and while others were present. Most times, it was when we were watching movies or playing games with a group of people and we were stuck sitting on the floor. I would lean my back against his chest as he leaned against a couch or cabinet. That night, he held me in the same position but laying down, with one arm gently around my waist and the other tucked around my head as he stroked my hair every now and then. It was the first time since summer that I had fallen asleep to the sound of his soft snores. I found myself drifting off easily to the gentle, warm feeling of them against my hair. To say I caught myself falling in love with him that night is an understatement. I finally admitted it but didn’t know where to go from there. It was different from how I had seen him before.

Winter break separated us again, and the facetime calls became more frequent than they had been over summer. It got to a point where I started introducing him to my family over facetime, and he did the same. Nonetheless, I was surprised on Christmas Eve when he facetimed me asking to open the package that he sent me through the mail as a Christmas gift for a reaction. I was in the living room where my family had been gathered to watch a Christmas movie when he texted me to check the mail. I didn’t expect to see a small box and a separate envelope from him in there. Immediately, I ran up the stairs to my room with my family asking what I was doing. I didn’t pay attention to them and bolted straight to my bed as he called. I answered and sat down before opening the envelope first, as he requested.

The first thing I found in there was a hand-written note reading:

“Y/N,

First of all, you don’t understand how much I miss you. Seeing you through a screen literally does you no justice. I’d rather be giving you this in person. Second, you’re so special to me. You’re my best friend. And my best friend deserves the best. I really hope you like it. I chose it myself and Ethan said it was nice… I kinda trust him. I just thought of you instantly when I saw it. Lastly, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!

- Gray”

I think he knew exactly how to pull at my heartstrings by this time, and he knew handwritten notes were one of my favorite things. I kept all the random sticky notes with jokes and doodles he put in my notebooks when I wasn’t looking while we studied at the library all those nights. He didn’t know I kept them all in the back of my planner, sticking them an inch apart to create a collection.

I pulled the next thing out of the envelope, which was three Polaroid pictures we had taken at three different times. The first picture was an attempted selfie that was mostly Grayson’s smile and my eye featuring one of the ears of my cat ear headband. On the bottom, written in sharpie was: “10/31/17 – one of my favorite nights”.

“So we’re dressing up just to hang out and eat candy?” I asked Grayson from my bed, as he sat against it with his laptop open searching for last minute DIY Halloween costumes.

“No, we’re dressing up because it’s Halloween. It’s tradition,” he states sternly.

I didn’t dare question Grayson and his love for holidays. He ended up asking me to do some skull makeup on him, which I did… poorly. And I just stuck on my cat ears that I had laying around for when I wanted to push my hair back while doing my makeup. I went full out with him and drew some whiskers on with eyeliner and drew a pink heart on my nose with lipstick. He insisted we should take a polaroid and the one that came out was the one he sent in the mail. We burst out into laughter after we saw the developed photo because Grayson swore that he had the perfect angle for us to be in frame, and he was totally wrong. But at the time, it was the last of the film he had, and we decided the photo would suffice for memories and we took a few selfies on his phone for better measure. That night ended in us watching Rick and Morty until I passed out in the bed where we were sitting against the wall, and Grayson went home. I didn’t know why it was one of his favorite nights, so I asked him while we were on facetime.

“It was the first night I saw you fall asleep in front of me,” he said with a bit of hesitation in his voice, “all the other times were over facetime.” My lips betrayed me when I tried to hide my smile. I didn’t think Grayson had such fond memories of small things like this as I did. I thought I was the only one.

The second photo was one of Grayson holding a joint in his mouth and I held a lighter against the joint and smiled at the camera. Again, written in sharpie: “11/11/17- baby’s first weed”. I laughed hysterically at this one. This was from the first time Grayson and I smoked weed together, and his first time ever smoking.

“Okay, remember to hold it in your mouth and then when you pull it away, inhale it,” I instructed Grayson. My housemate Kiara had brought home several joints and left them out on the living room coffee table for anyone who wanted them. I was curious to see what Grayson would be like while he was high. Alena was with us, and she had never smoked before either.

“Wait, let me take a picture with Grayson’s polaroid!” Alena exclaimed. We posed somewhat silly, and then I lit the joint for Grayson.

Grayson took a puff of the joint and breathed as I had taught him. His eyes were getting a little bloodshot as he kept taking hits, and they were also a bit hooded and seemed sleepy. I knew he was high when the three of us were sitting in comfortable silence while lightly playing The 1975 from my phone. I heard a slight snort escape him. It took me a little bit to react, looking over to him and giggling inexplicably.

“What?” I asked through a smile.

“I don’t know,” he replied, still giggling. “I just wanna laugh!!”

“It’s the weed, Gray!” Alena cackled out. I couldn’t believe the lightweights that sat on each side of me on the couch. I was also high, but I obviously forgot what it was like when you smoked for the first time.

After a while, Alena felt the sleepiness hit her and she knocked out in her bed, leaving me alone with high Grayson. We sat in the same silence with the light sounds of the music for a while before Grayson admitted he was feeling the munchies hit him. We made our way to the kitchen when I remembered I had some left-over, pre-made cookie dough from baking cookies for Alena’s birthday last month. Right as I put the cookies in the oven, Grayson wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and lifted me up.

“Gray!! STOP!” I squealed and laughed. I would have normally begged him to stop for a bit longer, but he turned me around and sat me up on the counter next to the stove. I choked on my breath a little bit as he spread my legs apart slightly to allow himself in between. I didn’t know what was going on because he had never done this before, but I wasn’t going to complain. His face was close to mine, and I noticed his eyes fixed to my lips, then my eyes, and then my lips again. I couldn’t handle the intensity in this interaction, so I grabbed the cookie dough wrapper and started picking at the bits of lingering dough to stick in my mouth. “Want some?” I asked with a slight shake in my voice, holding out my dough covered finger. He smiled and accepted the cookie dough I held up, licking up the dough and going for more from the wrapper. I didn’t want things to get awkward with Grayson if I had made a move and kissed him when maybe he was just super high and admiring me for no reason.

The last photo was just of me, asleep on his chest with his hand through my hair. This was from the morning after he had spent the night during finals and I didn’t even know he took this. This time, the sharpie just read “12/13/17 – nervous x nbhd”. My heart escaped my entire body and I felt my head start to spin. I knew this meant he wanted me to know that I made him nervous, as The Neighborhood had so perfectly titled their song. I couldn’t breathe, but before I could ask Grayson anything, my mom barged into my room.

“Y/N, come back down please. We’re doing family stuff,” she said eagerly, “don’t be rude by staying up here.”

“Okay, give me just a second mom, Grayson sent me this-“

“Y/N! Now!” she whisper-yelled. I put the polaroids away in my desk just in case my mom wanted to punish me for smoking weed or being asleep on top of a boy.

“Hey, Grayson I’m sorry. I gotta go, but I’ll open the package later?” I bit my finger nervously.

“That’s fine, go do family stuff. I’ll be awake,” he reassures me. I felt butterflies in my stomach knowing I’ll be talking to him later.

While watching yet another boring Christmas movie with my family, I couldn’t help but think about Grayson deciding to put that song title on the picture of me sleeping. What did this mean? Was there any meaning to it at all? I was stepping in more uncharted territory with Grayson, and with anyone. I hadn’t had a boyfriend since the beginning of high school, so I forgot how to interact with boys I liked. I also didn’t get much practice since I was too busy swooning over Grayson to pay attention to any other guys who might have been potential interests. Grayson didn’t make it very clear if there were any other girls in his life, but the more I thought about it, the less I could think of a single time he talked about being interested in a girl. I grabbed my phone and texted Ethan.

Y/N: Hey I need to talk to you Don’t tell Grayson!!! PLEASE!

Eetee: What’s up??

Y/N: Okay I need you to be completely honest with me right now

Eetee: Ok…? I always am but ok

Y/N: Yes. So does Grayson like me??

Read at 9:47pm

I got nervous as he left me hanging for a good 15 minutes.

Y/N: ETHAN PLEASE DON’T SAY ANYTHING TO GRAYSON

Eetee: I can’t tell you anything either

Y/N: What do you mean?

Eetee: You’re asking someone who was sworn to secrecy on this subject. Shouldn’t that give it away?

Eetee: Btw that should be a totally obvious answer, but I can’t insinuate anything. Just talk to him

Ethan knew Grayson was in love with me. Grayson had told him about every single time he got me to smile so much that my faint dimples started showing. Grayson told him about every snapchat I sent him while he held up his phone and said “Isn’t she so cute?!” Ethan was there every time Grayson came home from hanging out with me, feeling sad that he couldn’t find the courage to confess how he felt. Ethan was also there the night Grayson got high and came home giggling hysterically. He knew he had smoked, but what he didn’t expect was to hear Grayson tell him how he almost kissed me. He almost found the courage to act on his feelings, but I made cookie dough our “cock-blocker”. Ethan wanted to tell me all of this right then, but Grayson made him swear he wouldn’t spill a word to me because he wanted to do it himself. He needed to find the right words and the right time.

I decided to leave my family once again, claiming that I was tired and promised to come back down if I couldn’t sleep. It was a cheap excuse, but my family finally let me go and I immediately facetimed Gray as I locked the door to my room.

“Hey again,” he smiled through his barely open hoodie. He was snuggled up in his bed and looked so perfectly cute. I could never get enough of him.

“Hi, sorry about earlier. I’ve been so eager to keep talking to you.”

“It’s okay. Go open your present,” he flashed his toothy smile as he commanded me to open what he sent.

“You know you didn’t have to get me anything, right? The pictures are amazing, and I was so close to crying before my mom came in,” I admitted.

“Cool, then it worked. Now open what I WANTED to get you because I know I don’t have to get you anything,” he chuckled. He knew I was stubborn about gifts and I hated being materialistic.

But when I opened the package, I didn’t expect to see what he had gifted me. It made my heart stop for the second time tonight, but also start racing faster than it was already going. I stopped fighting my smiles at this point. “Gray….. what the…?” I whispered.

“Just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.” He said sweetly. It was a beautiful, dainty gold necklace with a small crescent moon adorning that I had seen in a jewelry store we checked out when Ethan wanted a new chain and we tagged along. It was very pretty but I couldn’t afford it and I had honestly, completely forgotten about it. I’m surprised Grayson remembered how much I loved it when I saw it.

“Why did you- when did you- what?!” I was out of words. This was the most attention someone had ever put into a gift for me. Even though I didn’t wear jewelry often, I knew I was going to be rocking this necklace every single day just because Grayson had gifted it to me.

“I know you love the moon, and you loved that necklace so much. I saw it in your eyes when we were at that store. I went back like a month later by myself and got it. Saved it for Christmas.” Grayson sounded really proud of himself, and honestly, I was too. This was such a sweet gift and it truly made me want to be the first to confess how I felt and get it over with.

“Grayson, I love it. Thank you so much,” I gushed, “god, I love you…” I said quietly. I felt an awkward silence fall on us, and I was unsure as to if he heard me or not. I kept my focus on the necklace to avoid seeing his face if he had heard me.

“Y/N… I need to tell you something….” He said quietly, losing his short-lived confidence. I looked at my phone screen to see him tucked behind his hoodie that he had pulled the strings on, only his nose and some of his forehead visible. “I’ve had a major crush on you since we met, and my feelings just keep getting more intense. I wanted to tell you in person, I swear-“

“It’s okay, you have told me in person,” I cut him off reminiscing in all the memories where I left myself wondering if he liked me or if it was just a delusion of mine. The pictures and his confession of said “crush” was enough confirmation that I had been waiting for.

“What do you… oh, the pictures?” He chuckled, opening his hoodie a little more, to peek through. “Yeah, I was hoping you caught on eventually… I just- I’m not sure how to tell someone I like them, so…”

“It’s fine, I love the pictures. I love the necklace. I’m so, so happy right now, Gray.”

We spent that night on facetime until 5 in the morning in my time zone, but he was up until 8 in the morning, where he had to go open presents with his family. We talked about our different memories where it was obvious that we had feelings for one another and we both felt like the other was not into them. I laughed at how he thought the time I changed in front of him was because I thought of him as a brother. But I was very drunk, and he walked me home that night to make sure I was okay. And I needed help getting out of the dress I had worn because the back zipper got caught on something and fell off completely. Everyone else in my apartment was still out partying and Grayson was the only person around, which was fine by me. I pranced around in my underwear after he helped me out, hoping it would be a bit amusing or maybe spark a bit of innocent, drunk fun between us. He admitted he was also drunk that night, being overly tempted to finally kiss my lips as well, and touching my bare skin made him too nervous to make a move. He didn’t want to send the wrong message, so he avoided contact with me until I needed to be tucked into bed when he kissed my head through my hair. I hardly remembered that, as I was pretty wasted. But, he told me how nervous he was I’d get weirded out by it.

This is where it really started.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan fan fiction #dolan twins fan fiction #dolan twins #ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader

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winterisakiller · 5 years

Text

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Fifteen

Chapter: 15/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @theheartofpenelope

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Exhausted, Tom stumbled into the darkened room and let himself drop carelessly onto the large, unmade bed. He turned, burying his face into the rumpled pillows and groaned. God, he was tired. It had been a whirlwind of a day and all he wanted to do now was sleep for at least a year. More if at all possible. He’d been at this for nearly a week now; running interview to interview, answering the same handful of questions asked in slightly differing ways. Though the excitement of the first few stops on this, admittedly, chaotic promotional tour had slowly but surely began to fade, he was still excited to talk about the film. It had been a grueling shoot, long hours and frequent reshoots, but he was extremely proud of what he and his co-stars had created and could not wait to see the reaction it would receive.

He rolled over onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. He had the next seven hours completely free; a wonderful yet daunting prospect. He should sleep, god he wanted to sleep, but something told him that no matter how badly he wanted it, sleep would be more than a bit elusive. His mind though choked with exhaustion wouldn’t seem to keep quiet. It kept replaying; the feel of her lips on his, her soft yet firm body pressed against his, the feel of her silky hair between his fingers, the way her breath hitched as he pulled her closer to him. Every detail flashed through his mind, bright and clear.

An involuntary shiver ran through him. It was both heaven and hell. They hadn’t talked properly since that night and it was eating him alive. Far too often he found himself checking his phone during any spare moment, hoping for a call or at least a text. Something, anything; but as it stood it had been over a week and nothing. He could call her, open that line of communication himself and he had been sorely tempted to, but with this he knew that if there was a move to be made, it should be on Rosemary’s part. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, push her into anything; not again. He’d learned that lesson far too well. If they were going to try for something more it would be on her insistence or not at all. It was a gamble, that he was well aware. And it was his heart on the line, but Tom knew that if he pushed there was a very real chance he could lose her completely. And that, that was not an option. So he would wait and he would hope. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes once again and praying sleep would claim him, if only for a little while.

Several hours later he was brought crashing back into consciousness by a blaring noise. Heart pounding in his chest, it took him several moments to realize that the horrifically loud sound was in fact his phone. He laughed despite himself, shaking his head as he pushed off of the bed and stumbled through the darkness towards the dresser where he had emptied the contents of his pockets upon entering the room. His phone sat, face down on the dresser. Flipping it over revealed a waiting text message. From Luke. He groaned aloud before tapping the screen and opening the message.

‘Interview tomorrow moved up from 0900 to 0830. You’ll be paired with Donna. Car will be by at 0745. Coffee will be waiting J’

Tom typed back a short thank you in response as he walked slowly back to the bed, tossing his phone onto the rumpled bedclothes. A quick glance at his watch told him it was that time of the night which was both stupidly late and stupidly early. He dropped his head into his hands and let out a low groan. He was very much awake now and at the moment any real chance of falling back asleep seemed utterly hopeless. He let his weight fall back onto the bed. His head was still foggy with sleep and the disappointment he’d felt at seeing Luke’s name and not Rosemary’s was difficult to ignore or dismiss.

With a groan he pushed himself upright once again and fumbled at the bedside table for the television remote. He’d never been one for television but at this point any distraction would do. After three disappointing turns around the available channels he finally settled on a cooking show, some competition that looked far more intense than any cooking program ought to be. He couldn’t say what was happening on the show but the noise was distraction enough.

Tom blinked rapidly as his phone chimed again and he groped blindly on the bed for it. Hitting the side button to unlock the screen, he stared at the waiting message. ‘Car’s here.’ He blinked in confusion before glancing at the top of the screen for the time. 0745. “What?” He breathed in disbelief. That couldn’t possibly be right. He rubbed his eyes and checked the screen again. Fuck, it was right. He must have dozed back off. Thank god he’d heard his phone.

Cursing, Tom glanced down at his attire, rumbled from wear and sleep. Shit. Shit. Double shit. He didn’t have time for a shower but he had to change. Scrambling off the bed and onto his feet and tore through the outfits he’d hung in the closet. Taking the first one his fingers touched, Tom wasted little time stripping and redressing, not caring if the suit trousers and button up shirt matched perfectly with the shoes he’d slammed his feet into. Grey goes with everything, he told himself. He managed to wash his face and brush his hair and teeth and make it down to the waiting car by five after. He smiled briefly at the driver, apologizing profusely for his tardiness and slammed the door shut.

Traffic was mercifully light and they pulled into the studio lot with fifteen minutes to spare. Luke stood at the side entrance with an intern from the television studio. His blue suit was impeccable as always, but the tie around his neck had been loosened; a sure fire sign that Luke was more than a little on edge. Tom climbed out of the car and waved off the driver before jogging up to the two waiting men. His publicist shook his head and chuckled. “Cutting it rather close there, Hiddleston.”

“But I made it, Windsor,” Tom shot back. The small group made their way inside the building and through a hallway towards the elevators. He found himself tapping his foot to the beat of the song playing from the tinny speakers. A pop hit from sometime in the last decade; one that he recognized but couldn’t name. Once on the studio floor, Tom was rushed through hair and make-up and at twenty-five after he found himself sitting in front of a blue screen with Donna Jacobs waiting for their interviewer to arrive.

Donna was incredibly bubbly for the early hour; more so than he’d seen her in quite some time. She was talking jovially about something that Tom, admittedly, had not been paying an ounce of attention to. She paused halfway through her story to ask him a question and he’d, much to his chagrin, had to ask her to repeat herself. Donna had laughed and repeated her question with good grace. It still hadn’t made any sense and he found himself staring blankly at her, feeling like a complete tit. Guilt coursed through him; he really hadn’t been paying Donna any mind at all as she spoke. It was exceedingly rude of him and not at all like him.

He liked Donna; she had been a blast to talk with on long shoots, full of humor and a fair bit of biting sass. She was smart as a whip and hardworking, playing opposite her had been a delight. They’d gotten along well and it had been wonderful to catch up with her during the promotional work. She deserved his full attention, but between his exhaustion and worry he couldn’t seem to give it.

“Jesus, Tom,” she laughed, nudging him affectionately with her shoulder. “You aren’t listening to a word I’ve been saying are you?”

He shrugged, a sheepish smile spreading across his tired face. “Sorry. I’ve had an off night.”

Donna laughed in earnest. “You? Off? Never.”

Tom opened his mouth to retort but was cut short by the arrival of the woman conducting this particular round of interviews, “Cara Thomas,” she stated, hand held out for both to shake. She was a relatively tall, thin woman with dark brown hair and bright, lively blue eyes. Her skirt suit was a charcoal grey and well-tailored. She smiled brightly at them both before settling herself into the remaining chair. Cara made pleasant small talk with the two actors while the camera crew finished setting and checking their equipment; asking them how they found the city and if they’d had any chance to get out to see the sights. Donna fizzed with excitement as she talked with Cara about a small museum she’d found not too far from her hotel Tom nodded and smiled along. After the all clear was given, they settled in their respective seats as Cara began her introductions.

“Hello, I’m Cara Thomas and this morning I’m sitting here with the stars of the new dramatic thriller, The School of Mist, Tom Hiddleston and Donna Jacobs. Welcome both of you.”

“Thank you for having us, its lovely to be here,” Tom answered with warm smile.

Donna smiled and nodded, “Yes, thanks so much.”

Cara leaned forward, question cards resting on her lap. “So what can you tell us about this new film? What drew each of you to it?”

Tom and Donna took turns discussing what they could of the film’s plot; a story centering on Tom’s character, Mark, a recent widower with a young son who discovers through a frightening twist of events that his late wife, Claire, was not all she seemed. He spoke of how he’d been drawn to the emotional journey the story took Mark on. How he’d been on the edge of his seat when reading the script and was absolutely thrilled when the part had been offered to him. Donna spoke of her character, Helen, who was a colleague of Mark’s who unwittingly became tangled in the dangerous web weaving around Claire’s past and how she’d pestered her agent for weeks to get her an audition.

“Helen’s a smart, no nonsense woman who is thrown for a loop, along with Tom’s character, Mark, and finds herself caught up in something so much bigger than she is. I loved her from the moment the script crossed my path, I wanted to get in her head and solve the puzzle she found herself caught up in. Plus,” she added with a good natured laugh and nudge of her elbow, “working alongside this goof was a definite perk.”

Tom touched his hand to his heart in a reflexive gesture and smiled, whispering as an aside, “She was an absolute nightmare.” He broke off with a quick laugh and continued, “But in all seriousness, Donna is a delight to work with. She is an absolute gem to play off of and a fantastic foil for my character’s confused floundering.”

He rambled on in his usual fashion and, despite it being far from the first time he talked about the film and his character, he enjoyed being able to share his thoughts and experiences. This film had been a frustrating but rewarding endeavor and he was thrilled to finally be able to share it.

The rest of the day passed in very much the same manner; a fair deal of laughter and stories mixed amongst the same standard questions as the next round of interviewers paraded through. He fought against the impulse to check his phone at every conceivable break point, but it was a very near thing. Donna had quickly caught onto his twitchiness and after chuckling to herself over it called him out. “You are practically vibrating where you sit, what in the world is going on?”

He scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned softly. “It’s a long story…” he started, laughing to himself. That sounded the worst sort of cliché, but he honestly wasn’t sure how else to put it. Not without making him sound like he was possibly going out of his mind. Maybe I am, he thought with a sigh.

Donna cocked an eyebrow, “It’s always a long story.” She patted the chair beside her. “Now sit and spill. We’ve got another twenty minutes before they spring us for the day and I’m all ears.”

Tom lowered himself onto the proffered chair and took a deep breath. “Just…worrying over something I have little control over.”

“That’s a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one.” She shot him a knowing look. “So the way I see it, Hiddleston, you’re about as tense as I’ve ever seen you. I’m surprised you’ve not popped a lens with how often you’ve taken off your damned glasses to clean them. And let’s not get started on the wrinkled mess you’ve made of your shirt. Hell, looking at you is giving me an ulcer. So what’s got you tied up in knots? Girl trouble?” She paused, smiling, and when he didn’t respond continued on. “Boy trouble?” She waggled her eyebrows at him and he cracked a small smile.

He sighed, “It’s…complicated.”

Donna snorted. “Complicated, huh? Which if my male to English translation is up to scratch means you did something stupid and you are currently awaiting forgiveness.”

Tom laughed despite himself. “Yes and no.” He paused, pulling of his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “There is…someone. We aren’t together but we used to be…I made a series of exceeding poor choices during the time and things…It didn’t end well. We reconnected a few months back and are friends…Or trying to be.” He knew he was rambling and couldn’t for the life of him stop. It was risky, opening up like this. That was something he knew all too well. But he trusted Donna. She wasn’t the sort to run straight out and share any and everything she heard. He didn’t think she would change now. But still…“Things have been complicated. We…There is something there still, I think…I hope…I don’t know. But before I left we…Lines were crossed and she…She asked for time and it’s been well over a week now and I’ve heard nothing. I want to give her that. I know I need to give her that. I’ve pushed before…And it’s never ended well. But I…I want to know where we stand, I want to know if this hope I’ve got is all in vain or if, just maybe, there is a chance.”

Beside him Donna was uncharacteristically quiet and it unnerved him far more than he wanted to admit. Cautiously, he raised his head and turned to face her. She smiled warmly at him and let her hand fall briefly on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Well that is not the most…hopeful thing I’ve heard.”

He felt his heart plummet at her words. At someone else’s voice echoing what his mind had been none too gently shouting at him for days now. “Oh.”

“…But it’s not the least either,” she continued. “You’re doing the right thing, trying to be patient and letting her go at her own pace. Listening to her is ridiculously important and honestly will go a long way to making things right.” She squeezed his shoulder again. “But sometimes people need to be pushed, even if it’s just to get them to open up. So be patient but don’t be passive. If you wait too long for her to figure out what she wants and don’t try to at least talk with her, you might find one day it’s just a tad too late.”

Tom nodded silently, letting her words sink in. She had a point, of course she did. Donna was nothing short of uncanny with her insight. She was young, yes, but by no means did that mean she wasn’t observant or insightful. She’d seen a lot and wasn’t afraid to call things as they were. It was one of the many things he’d sincerely liked about her.

“Mr. Hiddleston? Ms. Jacobs? Your cars are here.” Tom looked up to see an intern standing in the doorway, clipboard in hand. The same young man from that morning, if he wasn’t mistaken. Josh. Nodding at him, Tom stood and grabbed his coat. He turned and waited for Donna to grab her things before both followed Josh down to the lobby and their waiting vehicles. He bid Donna good night and climbed into his waiting car, grateful to have made it through another day. Only a week and a half more of this and he would be home.

Once settled in the car, Tom leaned back into the seat, enjoying the softness of the smooth leather, and closed his eyes. For someone who spent the day mainly sitting and talking, he was ridiculously exhausted. Not really sleeping the night before really didn’t do you any favors, his mind retorted. Maybe sleep won’t prove so elusive tonight. He sighed, hoping that would be the case. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, the car was pulling to a stop.

He’d blinked in confusion as he heard a voice call. “Mr. Hiddleston, we’ve arrived.”

Tom shook his head in a vain effort to rouse himself enough to climb out of the car and make his way to his room. The lobby was relatively empty, a blessed gift, only a scattered handful of people milling about the sparsely decorated open room. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to interact with fans, he enjoyed talking with people and hearing their stories, he just wasn’t sure he had he energy for it. Not then. And the last thing he wanted was to be short with anyone; the fallout from such a thing would not be worth it in any way, shape, or form. He made his way quickly to the elevators and then up to the twentieth floor and his room.

Once again, he emptied his pockets on the wooden surface of the dresser. His next stop was the bathroom where he made quick work of stripping down and jumped into the shower. He set the water as hot as he could stand it, wincing at the heat before allowing himself to simply relax. He relished in the warmth of the water, lingering under the spray far longer than he normally would after making sure his body and hair were clean. He could feel the tension of the day slowly start to fall away. He finally managed to drag himself out of the shower nearly twenty minutes later, clean of body and renewed of spirit.

Towel around his waist, Tom wandered back into the main room and fumbled through his suitcase for a clean pair of pajama bottoms; a blue checked pair that he’d long since lost the matching top for. He finished drying himself and pulled them on, stumbling from one foot to the other to keep his balance. He rubbed his hair vigorously with the towel before tossing it back into the bathroom, he really should hang it up to dry but couldn’t seem to find it in himself to do so.

The beep of his phone caught his attention as he lumbered his way back to the bed. He stopped and flipped it over, turning on the screen. A text from Luke greeted him, a quick reminder that his flight was scheduled to depart at noon the following day and that a car was arranged to pick him up at nine. Tom typed a quick thank you and dropped both himself and his phone onto the bed.

As he lay on the bed, his mind replayed the conversation with Donna over and over again. He was doing the right thing in waiting, wasn’t he? It was what Rosemary had asked for and it had only been a week, he could wait; she was worth it…But still there was a niggling part in the back of his brain that would not keep quiet. He groaned, rubbing his face with his hand.

“Fuck it,” he hissed rolling over onto his side and grabbing his phone. A few quick swipes of his finger pulled up the dial screen of his phone and with a practiced ease he dialed in her number hesitating only moments before hitting send.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Shit, what time was it there? He wracked his brain trying to do the math in his head. God, it was probably stupidly late there. A groan escaped his lips. Maybe he should just hang up and try later. Shit, he didn’t know.

“Tom?” Rosemary’s voice cut through his panicking. It took him several seconds to realize what was going on.

He felt his heart leap into his throat. He took a quick, calming breath before responding. “Rosie, hi…Am I interrupting anything? I didn’t even think about the time difference. God, what time is it there?”

She laughed and the sound warmed him. “It’s fine. I was just getting ready to get dinner,” Rosemary paused and he heard a soft shuffling in the background. “It’s going on eight here.”

“Oh, good.” He laughed softly, feeling his heart start to slow in his chest. Dear lord, he was an absolute mess. “I was terrified it was like two in the morning or some other horrendously late hour and you’d be dead asleep and cursing me out for waking you.” She laughed at this and it was a truly beautiful sound. He paused a moment before asking, “How have you been?”

There was a slight hesitation in her voice as she answered and it sent tiny alarm bells blaring in his mind. “I’ve…I’ve been alright…Busy…But I’m glad you called. I’ve been meaning to but with one thing and another…” her voice trailed off.

“I know a thing or two about busy, Rosie,” he chuckled. “It’s completely fine. I’m just…It’s really nice to hear your voice,” he confessed, knowing he was likely pushing the tenuous boundary between them but needing to say it nonetheless.

“It’s nice to hear yours too,” Rosemary answered, her voice soft. “How has the tour been going? Where are you now, anyway?”

Tom had opened his mouth to reply when a male voice echoed in the background. “Rose, they’ve managed to find us a table. Come on before they give it away.” Confusion flooded through him. She was at dinner with a man; another man, his mind hissed unhelpfully. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Stop it, he told himself, trying to quell the unease roiling inside him. Don’t jump to conclusions. She has plenty of male friends that she has every right to go to dinner with. Don’t you dare let yourself freak out over this.

A muffled sound came over the line and through it he heard Rosemary yell, “Go in, Adam. I’ll be right there.”

Adam? He felt the blood freeze in his veins. Surely not.

“Tom? Tom, I’m so, so sorry but I have to dash. Thank you for calling…” her voice trailed off for a moment before hesitantly coming back. “You’re home late next week, right?”

Startled by her question he nodded in response before shaking his head and answering verbally. “Yes. Late Friday afternoon if all goes according to plan.”

“Good. Good. Listen, after you get back can we meet up…I…There’s something I want to talk with you about.” Her voice was hesitant, uncertain, and he felt his heart drop in his chest.

“Oh…Alright. I’ll call you after I’ve settled and we can maybe meet up for a coffee.” He tried to keep his voice even and light, which was quite the feat considering he felt as though he were going to be violently ill.

“That sounds like a plan…I’ll see you soon,” she whispered and the line went dead.

Tom sat motionless on the bed, staring blankly at the phone still in his hand. He felt as if all the air had been knocked forcefully from his lungs as her words echoed in his head. ‘There’s something I want to talk with you about.’ He took a shuddering breath feeling as though sleep would be the very last thing he would get that night.

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#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #Tom and Rosie #Love & Great Buildings

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