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mxpseudonym · 4 years

Text

Just Good Business V

Pairing: Tommy x Reader

Reader Gender Expression: She/Her pronouns, “wife”

Summary: You and Tommy settle into marriage on your anniversary.

Length: 1585 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Very light cursing and very light mentions of arranged/forced marriage

A/N: I hope you enjoy! If you made it this far, you’re a real one.

Part I | Part VI

Your head tilted back, eyes closed as you reached out a hand to balance yourself. You were practically shaking.

"God, Tommy," you panted, placing a hand over your chest as you caught your breath. "I liked that one."

"Thank you, Mrs. Shelby," he chuckled from where he kneeled in front of you. You couldn't help but keep giggling in the aftermath of your husband's story about him and Arthur sending John down the cut in a cardboard box when they were kids. Finn was right. Tommy did do voices, and it was worth the over dramatics he took when spinning yarns.

"What did you think?" You looked down at Edith in your lap. She was only four, John and Esme's youngest and a spitting image of them both. Edith nodded her head and giggled herself.

"I liked it!"

"See, I told you he's not angry. He's just bossy all the time," you told Edith, teasing Tommy, who rolled his eyes playfully. Both of you kissed Edith's cheek before she ran off in search of her cousins.

"Bossy, eh?" Tommy asked, wrapping his arms around your waist when you stood.

"Hold it, Mr. Shelby, you're not the boss of me." You stuck out your tongue at him but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway. You brushed your lips against his and said, "Not right now anyway."

"Alright, lovebirds. Are we going to eat dinner or what?" Arthur asked from the doorway of the living area.

"It's our anniversary party, Artie. Can't we take our time?" You looked over your shoulder at your brother in law.

"Don't leave us stravin', sister," he grumbled.

It had been a lovely year and some months since your confession in the foyer. You didn't think it would change much, but hearing someone tell you they loved you nearly every day was incredibly affirming.

In the time since your first anniversary, you'd taken a real honeymoon to Paris after Tommy told you he hadn't been to France since the war. In turn, Tommy took you camping after you said you'd never spent a rustic night under the stars. Not to mention, you believed you'd cracked a code.

Though he didn't seem it, Tommy was actually one of the most romantic people you'd met. He just simply didn't have time to execute such things. However, he nearly matched your unparalleled ability to give a good, sporadic gift now and again. A painting from a new artist you liked now hung in a room that Tommy set up after you mentioned your nieces and nephews needing a place to play when they stayed over. Not to be outdone, you bought him top Scottish whiskey in hopes to sway him a bit on the drink and engraved riding gear. You couldn't count the lingerie; however, that was a gift to you both.

Outside of Arrow House, Shelby Company Ltd. was growing, and with it, so did your responsibilities. No one was as much of a steadfast believer in you as Tommy, particularly where the company was concerned. He gave you more because he thought you could do it, and his belief made you work harder. You could successfully hold meetings on your own now, not just because of the Peaky Blinders, but because of your growing reputation as their gutsy businesswoman. Apparently, telling a boardroom full of old men that being a woman didn't make blind to the difference between good goings-on and bad really put you on the map. Your current scheme? Getting Alfie Solomons to admit that you were funny. This was not easy because you kept beating him at gin rummy.

"Are you going to tell me what's been on your mind?" Tommy asked, breaking you out of your stupor. Yes, Tommy had come to know you quite well and vice versa. Which made keeping your anniversary gift a surprise very difficult.

"Don't get nosey, Shelby," you kissed his nose then headed for the door. "Let's eat!"

If there was one thing that hadn't changed, you could throw a good party. There were friends and family, a few business associates and their partners, and essential people Tommy wanted to impress if he was going to get into politics. After dinner, as everyone gathered in the back of the house to mingle, dance, and play, you did what you were used to. You found a finding a quiet balcony overlooking the party. You were there for a few moments before you heard footsteps.

"Polly, how do you like it?" You asked your in-law who handed you one of two champagne flutes.

"I'm having a lovely time, y/n. You have the most handsome butlers, you know?" Polly mused, not hiding her ogling of the young men in the slightest.

"You're a shameless woman, and I adore that about you," you said with a laugh.

"I saw you two telling Edith that story."

"The Shelby's had a fun childhood."

"You're telling me. Those little rascals, they've done me proud in many ways since then," Polly said, pulling out a cigarette. "Tommy, notably. He's stubborn and downright stupid some days. But I see him with you. The way he laughs and smiles. He lets go because he knows you've got it in you to pull him back, keep him in line. You bring out parts of him that were good and bright in a way that was better than before the war."

You knew you still had a lot to learn about Tommy and the Shelby's. They had a lot to learn about you too. This was the first anniversary where you even considered inviting your family as guests. Still, the road to trust was going to be a rough one. But you were able to do it together, and that's what you liked most.

"I'm doing you proud then? I'm meeting your expectations from way back when?" You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

"Oh, I'd say we got an excellent return on investment," Polly teased you just as Tommy approached.

"Hello, ladies. Solving the world's problems?" He asked, looking at us both expectantly.

"I think the Shelby's problems are just fine for now," Polly said. She tapped her cigarette against the balcony's edge then kissed your cheek before making her leave.

"Anything I should worry about?" Tommy asked, turning to lean against the rail.

"Not at all. Polly was saying how good of an influence I am on you."

"Is that right? Is that even true?"

"Do you think it's the other way around? Don't make me laugh?"

You brushed off the accusation.

"Aren't you the one who told all my men that if any of them made a Birmingham woman feel so much as uncomfortable that you'd drag them to the butcher's and put their hands in the meat slicer?" Tommy recalled what Finn and Isaiah told him with a bit of fear in their eyes.

"That's only if they don't do right by 'em. And same goes for you, Shelby." You didn't take it back in the slightest.

"Good thing you're the only person I'd like to put my hands on then."

He fully believed you had it in you to do just what you'd said, and for that reason, Scudboat still wouldn't look you in the eye. Finn said you'd struck the fear of God in him, and Scudboat saw the end in your eyes. You told him to stop spreading that rumor, but here you were. You sighed and looked over the railing at the life you'd created.

"At our next party,"

"Y/n," Tommy stopped you, using his warning voice. You knew what was coming. Let's just say, if you had it your way, there would be a gathering every month at the mansion. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we can't just go throwing another party. The last two were large and expensive."

"Fine," you caved quickly. Whether Tommy knew it or not, this was a successful tactic you used because you knew Tommy couldn't quite say no to you. You promised to only use your powers for good.

"It's not going to work," Tommy said, more to himself than to you.

"What isn't?"

"Your sad eyes when I tell you no." Tommy looked at you, pointedly.

"What if the next party is part of my anniversary gift?" You prompted.

"A good theme isn't the same as a good reason, love," he said. You looked forward again at all of your family. You took a breath to calm the heat rising to your face.

"Well, what if the theme was a baby shower?" You asked softly. You turned to look at your husband. The smile forming on his face already allowed you to breathe a sigh of relief. You turned towards him fully.

"Really? You're pregnant?" He asked for sure.

"Yes," you gave a watery confirmation. Tommy grasped your face with both hands and kissed you, then placed a hand over your stomach.

"We should celebrate," Tommy concluded. He took your glass and sipped, only to end up coughing. "What the hell is this?"

"I’m sure Polly knows. She brought me that apple juice." You motioned to the glass. Tommy cleared his throat and sat it aside.

"We'll celebrate properly downstairs." He kissed you again, then looked down. Though he could only feel the beading of your dress, he may as well have heard the heartbeat. You placed your hand gently over his.

"There's a bit of you and a bit of me in there, Mr. Shelby."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Mrs. Shelby."

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor; @amysteryspot; @captivatedbycillianmurphy

JGB Series Tag List: @biba3434 ; l0tsofpennies; @sighonahurricane

#Tommy Shelby Imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders one shot

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 11

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: As always, the lovely KC (only in mention) belongs to the beautiful @kc-and-oc . Thank you for everyone holding my blushing little hand through this and listening to me whine about it. Also thank you for all the ones providing me with research information 👀. You know who you are! 💛

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Langague, depiction of alcohol consumption, depiction of drug abuse, graphic depiction of explicit NSFW content - do NOT read if under the age of 18!

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

And we were trying different things

We were smoking funny things

Making love out by the lake to our favorite song

Sipping whiskey out the bottle, not thinking 'bout tomorrow

Singing Sweet home Alabama all summer long

~ Kid Rock - All Summer Long ~

~ 10 months prior ~

It had been an unusually hot day, even for the middle of August. The heat hazes over the scalding hot streets were omnipresent, and people everywhere were trying to find some relief from the burning sun.

Lizzie loved every second of it.

She didn’t mind the high temperatures at all and relished the warmth on her skin as she stepped outside the old house in Kensington. It belonged to Ethan Parkin and Equinox had been keeping their rehearsal rooms in his converted cellar ever since Lizzie could remember.

They had just finished a long day of putting together the last details for their upcoming European tour. It had taken them all day until everyone had been satisfied with the results. Finally outside again, Lizzie intended to make the most out of the remaining hours of daylight.

It had suited her just fine when Orion had mentioned the poetry slam happening just around the corner of where he was living. He had invited all of them to come, but all except Lizzie had already made plans for the evening. Skye had wanted to come as well, but after receiving a text, she had abruptly changed her mind again.

So now it was only the two of them riding on the West Kensington tube station towards Gloucester Road. Orion was casually carrying a huge bag containing one of his guitars over his shoulder.

“Why are you taking that with you?” Lizzie asked him curiously. “You usually keep them in the rehearsal room.”

“Everything has its time, may it be little or large. The time of the strings on this guitar are almost over; I need to replace them,” Orion said. “I don’t have any suitable ones at the rehearsal room though. I’ll just drop the guitar off at home and we’ll be on our way again.”

They had just hopped onto the Circle Line that would take them to Notting Hill; Orion watched her from across his seat. “Why do you look so surprised?”

Lizzie tilted her head to one side. “In all these years, none of us has ever been at your place before. Except for Merula, of course,” she added matter-of-factly.

They were about to reach Notting Hill Gate and Orion motioned for her to get up. “Then it’s about time.”

They had to walk a bit from the tube station to the house where Orion was living. Although it took them about fifteen minutes to get there, Lizzie didn’t even notice. They passed through bustling streets, several of them lined with market stalls selling food and curious little trinkets. The colourful terraces and fronts that made Nottinghill so famous brightened Lizzie’s mood even further.

She and Orion were talking about all kinds of things, the band, the tour, the fact that Lizzie had never been to a poetry slam before; something, Orion told her, they would definitely need to change.

When they arrived at their destination, Lizzie dipped her head back and looked up at the brightly painted front of the old house. It was bigger than the ones surrounding it and Lizzie presumed it was made up of several flats.

“Are you coming?” Orion called over to her; he was waiting in the doorway, holding the door open for her.

Lizzie smiled as she followed him into the cool darkness of the stairwell. “I just thought this place fits you.”

He laughed softly as he climbed the stairs behind her. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s a mix of so many different things,” Lizzie explained, “traditional, but also free-spirited and unconventional, old-fashioned and modern at the same time; just like you.”

She heard Orion laugh again. “Well, if you think so.”

They walked right to the top floor, where two dark blue doors branched off the landing. Orion unlocked the one on the left and stepped aside to let her enter his flat first.

Lizzie found herself standing in one huge, sun-filled room; her eyes were immediately drawn to the big skylights in the bare brick walls through which the light was filtering in. It was a lot tidier than she would have expected from someone with as much creative energy as Orion. But even though the furniture was pretty minimalistic, the room seemed to breathe Orion’s energy.

Everywhere she looked Lizzie could see something that was so inherently him; a half-finished travel book on India, a bowl full of colourful crystals, a small dreamcatcher hanging over his bed in the far corner of the room. Almost every free surface was occupied by plants of all forms and sizes; they added a pleasant pop of colour to the otherwise neutral toned place.

Everything Orion needed on a daily basis seemed to be in the room Lizzie was standing in right now; the only thing she was surprised to notice was the total lack of anything to do with music. While she kept her main drum kit at their rehearsal room when they weren’t on tour, she had a smaller one over at her own place, as well as some other percussion and a guitar for when she felt like a change.

Her unasked question was answered when Orion walked past her into an adjacent room Lizzie hadn’t noticed before, his guitar still strung over his shoulder. Curious, she followed behind and had to chuckle when she saw the reason why there were no traces of Orion’s love for music in the main room.

The whole second room of his flat had been turned into some kind of home studio. All of their awards and golden records were hung on the walls, alternating with several old guitars. All of them seemed to be in pristine condition.

On Lizzie’s left side was a huge table that was littered with notebooks, plectrums and a simple switchboard she assumed Orion used for recordings. What piqued her interest was located on the other side of the room, however; all the instruments featured in their band were set up there, including a worn looking, blue drum kit, almost similar to the one she had at home for practising.

Lizzie smiled and stepped closer to it as Orion deposited his guitar on the worktable. She ran her hand over the floor tom, one of the horizontally mounted drums. Something about it felt oddly familiar.

“Do you remember it?”

Lizzie looked up from the drums and saw Orion leaning against the doorframe, watching her. “You should, it’s the one you used on our first tour. The label let me have it for practically nothing.”

The memory made her smile and she tapped her fingers against the slightly worn drum head in a quick, alternating rhythm. “Why am I not surprised at all that you’re using half of your place for making music?”

He mirrored her smile. “Passion is like a living thing, it needs room to breathe and be free if it wants to thrive. Did you think I made up all the instrument parts for our songs only in my head?”

Lizzie picked up one of the drumsticks and flipped it, laughing as she caught it again. “And your neighbours are okay with you running your one-man band up here?”

“So far, no one has complained,” Orion grinned before pushing himself off the wall. He motioned to her to follow him. “Come on, the studio’s great but I want to show you the best part of this place.”

She followed him back into the other room, where he led her to one of the huge skylights. Lizzie noticed the steep, rickety looking steps beneath it. Orion reached up and undid the latch before quickly climbing upwards and vanishing through the window.

When she didn’t follow immediately, his head popped back into view. “What’s wrong?”

Lizzie eyed the steps sceptically. “These don't look really trustworthy.”

Orion laughed and extended his hand to her. “Don’t you trust me?” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Or are you scared?”

“As if,” Lizzie snorted indignantly and climbed up after him, completely ignoring his offer for help.

Her momentary flare of stubborness died as quickly as it had come when she stepped past Orion and out onto a beautiful terrace, set back into the roof of the building. It wasn’t a particularly large space, but it was more than enough for a sunchair, a set of lounge chairs and a table. A huge parasol protected the area from the sun, but even so it was burning hot up here. The ground was laid with wooden floorboards and several chains of fairy lights and small lampions were fixed to the walls or wound about the railing of the sunshade.

Not one to be intimidated by the heat, Lizzie walked over to the wrought iron railing and leaned over it, admiring the breathtaking view stretching out in front of her. The skyline of London was glittering in the sunlight and she could make out the sea of green that was Kensington Gardens.

“Wow,” she breathed, “the view is fantastic.”

She heard Orion chuckle from somewhere behind her. “It is.”

Lizzie’s eyes fell to the many plant pots lining the length of the terrace. Like the plants inside, they added something peaceful to the atmosphere; she had never known Orion was so into gardening.

She ran her finger over the leaves of one of them. “Who’s taking care of these when we’re on tour?”

“My neighbour,” Orion answered, “she knows her way around plants. She is teaching botany at Queen Mary University.”

Lizzie had spotted a very familiar looking specimen with distinctly pinnate leaves. She turned to Orion with a grin. “And your professor neighbour is alright with watering this illegal little fellow here?”

Orion laughed. “She’s very liberal on the matter, really. Where do you think I got it from?”

“All for scientific reasons, I presume.”

“It does open the mind to a new level of creativity,” Orion shrugged, making Lizzie laugh out loud.

“That sounds so much like you. No wonder I don’t get the lyrics half the time.”

Lizzie stepped back from the railing and wandered over to the sunchair. The heated surface bit into the bare skin of her legs as she lounged into it, but she enjoyed the warmth as soon as the initial pain subsided.

“I can definitely see why this is your favourite place,” she sighed, “I could just stay here all day.”

“The poetry slam doesn’t start for another hour,” Orion said, “and it’s not far from here, so we don’t have to go just yet. Do you want a drink or something?”

Lizzie turned her head and shaded her eyes with her hand. “I like the sound of that.”

***

One glass of ice cold white wine turned into two, and then turned into a number Lizzie couldn’t possibly remember anymore. The sun had long gone down and the poetry slam had started ages ago, but they were still sitting on Orion’s rooftop terrace with no intention of going anywhere anytime soon.

With the sun gone, the air had grown cooler; the floor and walls were heated by the day’s sun, but Lizzie had found herself hugging her bare knees, shivering just a little. Orion had gone back inside to bring her something to keep her warm; he had come back with a plain black hoodie that she had gratefully accepted. Orion was much taller than Lizzie was, however and so the sweater hung loose around her shoulders and went down past beneath her hips. Lizzie had to roll up the sleeves several times until her hands were free again, but she was glad for the extra warmth it provided.

It didn’t surprise her that Orion didn’t grow the weed plant out of sheer botanical interest; accompanying the wine, they were sharing a joint with a mixture he had created himself. Lizzie couldn’t tell if she was primarily drunk or high at this point, the only thing she knew was that she had never in her life seen anything so fascinating as the fairy lights reflected in her wine glass.

“Like teeny tiny fireflies,” she giggled as she twirled the glass between her fingers, delighted by the way the light sparkled in the cold drink.

“I think you’ve caught a bit too much,” Orion chuckled but handed her the joint back anyway. Although he had been wearing a very detached grin on his face for the last half an hour or so, he wasn’t nearly as giddy as Lizzie; but then again, he was probably much more used to smoking than she was.

“And besides,” he continued, holding his own glass up against the lights, “they’re clearly little stars; how can you not see that?” His face grew pensive. “A whole, tiny wine glass galaxy.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Lizzie declared firmly. She lounged deeper into her armchair and took a deep drag. She dipped her head back and slowly blew the smoke into the air; the way it made the lights hazy was really pretty. “And it’s called a teacup galaxy.”

“Aren’t we all galaxies in our own teacups, in one way or another?”

Lizzie hummed in response. “In that case, I’d actually prefer the wine glass.”

She closed her eyes and let the sensation of the cushions in her back envelope her for a moment. From somewhere in the neighbourhood music was drifting up to them; from what she could hear, it sounded tropical, Caribbean maybe. Her thoughts being deliciously hazy, Lizzie could just imagine not being on a rooftop in London, but on a beautiful beach somewhere far, far away.

She smiled to herself; there could be worse company on a tropical island than Orion. The smile turned into a smirk as she thought about the many different tattoos she knew were decorating his well-toned upper body; she could most definitely imagine having worse company.

Indulging the idea of lounging in the warm sand with a drink and the rushing of the waves in the air a few moments longer, a sudden thought struck her and she sat upright.

“I just had the most brilliant idea.”

Surprised by her unexpected outburst of energy, Orion almost dropped his glass. “I told you smoking broadens the mind,” he said after regaining his composure. “What is it?”

“We should so change our tour display. It’s boring.”

A mixture of intrigue and scepticism showing on his features, Orion tilted his head. “So your suggestion would be?”

Excited by her flash of genius, Lizzie placed her now empty glass on the table between them and leaned forward. “Two words: steel drums.”

Orion didn’t say anything for a moment, a crease forming on his forehead. Then, he broke into a dazzling smile. “That must be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“I know, right? But it gets even better.”

“How could it get better than steel drums? More steel drums?”

Lizzie contemplated that possibility for a moment but discarded it quickly. “No, I don’t think so.” Her eyes lit up as she thought about her idea. “But you and Ev could totally play ukulele.”

Orion sighed. “Totally.”

A thought seemed to cross his mind. “But I’m not sure Ev can play the ukulele.”

Lizzie was dismayed by this. “I thought if you can play the guitar you can automatically play the ukulele.”

“If you want to call what Ev does playing.”

She had to snort with laughter at Orion’s dry tone. “We’ll just replace him with KC, she’s the prettier one anyway.” The thought of KC performing a hula dance on stage had her laugh even harder.

“There’s a problem though,” Orion broke her out of her entertaining thoughts.

“What’s that?”

“You can’t play the steel drums.”

“Who says that I can’t?”

“Well, can you?”

“I can learn,” Lizzie replied stubbornly. “How hard can that be? You only have one steel drum and I have... “ She frowned as she was trying and failing to envision her drum kit in her head. “How many drums do I have? I can’t remember.”

“More than one, in any case,” Orion laughed and extended his hand towards her empty glass. “You go think about that, and I’ll get you a refill.”

Lizzie was quicker though, snatching the glass out of his reach and getting up. “Don’t worry, I can go myself.”

She walked towards the skylight leading back into the flat but had underestimated the effect of both the drugs and the alcohol on her body. Shaking her head a little, Lizzie took a moment to steady herself.

Just when she thought she had found her balance again, her foot caught in the wire of one of the fairy lights. She stumbled forward with a jolt, ripping the plug right out of its socket and plunging a good portion of the rooftop into darkness.

Luckily for her, Orion didn’t feel the effects of their smoke as much as she did. His reaction time was still quick enough to catch her before she could hit the ground. She could hear the breath leaving his lungs as she collided with his chest; at least he was softer than the floorboards would have been.

He laughed as she straightened up again. “Careful, drummer girl, that was close.”

Lizzie tilted her head as she looked up at him curiously. “You’re close.”

Only now realising their position, Orion mumbled an apology and started to move away from her but Lizzie was quicker. She had already scrambled up onto the seat next to him, still feeling a little dizzy. Her feet were resting on the arm of the lounge chair, her legs lying draped across Orion’s thighs.

“No, it’s alright,” she giggled and leaned against him, “you’re more comfortable than my chair anyway.”

Leaning towards the table to retrieve Orion’s glass, Lizzie’ head started spinning again and she had to grip his shoulder for support. She was glad when she felt Orion’s arm come around her back for added support.

“And besides,” she held the glass up triumphantly before bringing it to her lips, “that way, it’s easier to share this.”

They were sitting like that for a while, Lizzie leaning against Orion’s chest, her head nestled into the crook of his neck, while he had his arms around her. The music she had been hearing earlier was still playing, faintly carrying up towards them. Lizzie had her eyes closed, alternating between listening to the upbeat melody and the calm rhythm of Orion’s heartbeat.

Now that she was relaxing, she became increasingly aware of the combined effects of the many glasses of wine and the spliff they had relit again. She felt as if she was floating through a haze on the soft sound of the steel drums, as if she could fly right into the night sky until she was surrounded by a glittering sea of stars.

The only thing anchoring her was Orion, the steady rising and falling of his chest, the ends of his hair brushing against her cheek when he moved, the touch of his fingers against hers when he handed her back the wine they were sharing.

Her head was spinning and she hooked her finger underneath one of Orion’s woven bracelets, as if the physical holding on to him could prevent the rooftop from revolving around her. The breathy sigh leaving her lips turned into a giggle.

“I don’t know what you’ve put in that stuff but, damn, it packs a punch.”

Orion chuckled, the hand around her back playing with a strand of her ponytail; she had to laugh as he tickled her neck with the ends of it. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary in there.”

She leaned a little away from him so as to better see his face. “So, what is it? Spill it!”

His smile turned into a smirk. “Who am I to tell you all my secrets? A little mystery only adds to the fun.”

Intrigued by his evasiveness, Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”

A curious expression flickered over Orion’s face for a moment. “Maybe.”

“Whatever it is, it’s thoroughly wrecking me,” Lizzie declared; that didn’t stop her from taking another sip of wine, however.

She could hear the laughter ringing in Orion’s voice. “That’s got less to do with the grass and more with all that wine. And the fact that you’re really, really small.”

“I’m not really, really small!” Lizzie replied indignantly.

“Of course you are, look at you; you’re basically a midget.”

Lizzie shoved him playfully, trying to keep a straight face but failing. “I’m not a midget and I’m not small!”

Orion caught her hand without so much as an effort. “Just look at you, you could wear my sweater as a dress.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the perfect size.”

There it was again, that curious expression Lizzie had seen just a moment before. A crooked smile appeared on Orion’s face as his eyes flickered from her face over the rest of her body.

“I can hardly argue with that.”

Lizzie regarded him for a moment, trying to take his measure. The mood had shifted from the relaxed cuddle they’d shared into something entirely different. There was a sudden tension hanging in the air that made Lizzie’s skin tingle and she was sure that it had nothing to do with either the grass or the alcohol.

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Is that so?”

She leaned forward again to put the wine glass away, using the momentum to shift her position. Turning slightly, she straddled Orion’s thighs, one arm resting lightly on his shoulder.

His dark eyes followed her every movement as she plucked the joint from his lips, gave it one slow, deliberate drag before putting it out against the wall, never breaking their eye contact. Holding the smoke inside her mouth for one long moment, she dipped her head back and blew it against the night sky. When she looked back at Orion again, his eyes on her were intense, making a shiver run down her spine. His hands were holding her hips, waiting on what she would do. Her lips curved into a smirk as she leaned in, her lips close to his ear.

“Only one way to find out.”

There was nothing hesitant about the way their lips found each other for the first time. Lizzie could taste the same fruity sweetness of the wine on his lips that was still hanging on hers.

Orion’s grip on her waist intensified and she could feel the rough skin of his hands as they found their way underneath her shirt, his fingers feeling deliciously cool against her heated skin. Her breath accelerated as their kiss deepend, her lips parting willingly as Orion’s tongue brushed against her lower lip.

She buried her hands in his long hair, as he pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together as closely as their position would allow. A low moan left Orion’s lips as she softly pulled at his hair, the movement of his head following her lead as he dipped it back into his neck.

Breaking their kiss, Lizzie’s lips started moving over his cheek to his jawline, her breath ghosting over his bare neck. She could see the goosebumps on his skin and feel his fingers dig into her waist as she teasingly ran her tongue over his collarbone. He sucked in his breath in surprise as her teeth nipped the sensitive skin and Lizzie couldn’t help but grin as her lips travelled upwards again.

Capturing his lips in another searing kiss, Lizzie’s breath hitched as his hands were sliding down from her waist over her hips. They came to rest on her bum, squeezing it tightly for a moment. She could feel his jeans becoming tighter as she ran her hand over him, coaxing another moan from his mouth. The sound made the heat spread from her stomach through her chest and into the rest of her body; she wanted to hear more of that.

Her fingers started working to undo his belt when he suddenly stopped her, gently pulling her hand away. Her eyes flew towards his face, a crease appearing on her brow.

“You not okay with this?”

Orion’s eyes were sparkling as he pulled her in for another kiss that took her breath away. When he pulled back, Lizzie’s head was spinning.

“Let’s take this inside,” he muttered into her ear. His voice sounded a lot deeper than what she was used to and she shuddered in anticipation.

Lizzie reluctantly climbed off him to let him get up. Orion couldn’t resist kissing her again, as he walked past her. Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the skylight that led down into the darkness of his flat. He climbed down the steps without a moment of hesitation; Lizzie, however, had to channel her concentration on something different than the burning need to feel Orion’s hands on her skin before tackling the unfamiliar steps.

And sure enough, two steps down, she misplaced her foot and felt herself falling for a moment. But for the second time that evening Orion was there, his hands providing her with something to hold onto.

Standing on the steps, Lizzie was a little taller than him. She gave in to the urge to pull him towards her and steal another kiss from him. His hands ran over her exposed thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Lizzie’s muscles tensed when he lifted her off the stairs, her legs wrapping around his midsection as he carried her over to his bed with a few short steps.

He lowered her down onto it and got rid of his shirt. There was no light in the room except for what was falling through the windows from the streetlights outside, but it was enough for Lizzie to see all of the countless tattoos decorating his skin, all the thoughtful quotes and intricate patterns.

She propped herself up on her elbows, locking eyes with him as he joined her on the bed. Reaching for his belt again, this time Orion let her undo it without objection. The deep moan she drew from him as she ran her hand over him a second time made her breathing speed up as well.

Much to her surprise, now that they’d changed location, their roles had reversed themselves. Where Lizzie had been in charge up on the rooftop, it was all she could do to keep her wits together as Orion let his hands roam her body.

The sweater she had still been wearing went almost instantly, quickly followed by her shirt and her shorts. Lizzie closed her eyes and held her breath as Orion worked his way from her lips over her neck, trailing kisses down between her breasts, lingering there for a sweet moment before moving on even lower. His soft lips combined with the bite of his beard almost drove her insane, but Lizzie just so managed to pull herself together.

Pushing him off her, she used his moment of confusion to flip him over, straddling him again. She shuddered at the feeling of him through her pants but pushed the thought aside; not just yet.

“Did you really think I was going to make this so easy for you?” she purred as she twirled his necklace around her finger. She smirked as she slightly repositioned herself on top of him, creating a delicious friction between them that had not only Orion exhale very slowly.

Lizzie pulled her hair tie out, enjoying the tickle as her light brown curls fell down beneath her shoulder blades. She bent forward to kiss Orion again, but he was simply staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a slight chuckle.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, brushing her hair that had fallen over her shoulder and was almost reaching his bare chest out of her face. Lizzie enjoyed the light pull as he raked his fingers through her mane. “So damn fucking beautiful.”

Lizzie felt a smile form on her lips before she kissed him, teasingly biting his lip. She could feel Orion’s hand wandering up her bare back to where her bra was still hooked. With a practised movement that didn’t surprise her in the least, he undid the clasp and Lizzie shrugged it off. The cool air coming in from the still open skylight hit her bare breasts and made her shiver from more than cold.

Orion’s hands danced over her thighs and up her sides until they found her breasts. Lizzie shuddered as his fingers grazed her sensitive spot at their base, her eyes closed to enjoy the sensation fully, when he suddenly stopped.

Opening her eyes again, she saw a curious look forming on his face as he turned her slightly so the light would better shine on her. Lizzie chuckled to herself; she knew exactly what he was so surprised to see.

“I never knew you had a tattoo,” Orion said, his eyes wandering over the black writing.

He traced his fingers over the inked words sneaking over her ribcage to the base of her breasts; the touch of his calloused fingertips made her sigh.

“You recognise the words?” she whispered with a smile, running her hand over one of Orion’s own tattoos on his chest.

“Unbounded like water, burning like wildfire,” he smiled, “of course I do; I wrote them after all. I had no idea you had them inked.”

She smiled back at him; the quote was taken out of one of her favourite songs Orion had ever written. “They’ve pulled at something in me ever since I heard them for the first time. I wanted to carry them with me wherever I go.”

A series of different emotions flickered over Orion’s face, much too quick for Lizzie to distinguish in the half-light of the room. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her, keeping her close. He kissed her with a passion that took her breath away.

“I want you,” he whispered into her ear, his voice low and husky in his throat, making Lizzie draw a shivering breath as she leaned her forehead against his.

“Then come and take me.”

It was all Orion needed to hear. He let himself fall back onto the bed, drawing her down with him. Their lips met in a passionate kiss before he flipped them around, so he was on top of her.

His head dipped against her shoulder as Lizzie reached down, tracing the edge of his boxers before her fingers disappeared beneath it. She ran them up and down his length, noting how his breath hitched, his arms tensing around her as she worked against him.

He stopped her after a few more strokes and moved away from her hand. Repaying her in kind, he ran his fingers over her pants, so very slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as she moaned at his touch. Hooking his fingers underneath the fabric, he pulled them off, leaving her fully exposed to him, but there wasn’t a single moment Lizzie felt vulnerable at all.

She gasped as Orion began to touch her properly; the touch of his rough fingertips was surprisingly soft, and combined with the trail of kisses he left on her hot skin, he made her feel like she was on fire. Her breathing strained, she managed to rasp out his name just before she would lose it completely.

Never stopping the movement of his hand, Orion looked up at her with a wicked grin on his lips.

“Anything the matter?”

All she wanted was to feel him by now but her words died on her lips as Orion slightly twisted his hand, making her inhale sharply.

With a low chuckle he withdrew his hand, making her miss his touch immediately. That short moment of regret was instantly forgotten when she felt Orion position himself before slowly pushing inside her.

For a fraction of a second, the reality that she was sleeping with one of her best friends hovered on the border of Lizzie’s mind, threatening to hit her; but when Orion started moving against her, their bodies instantly found a common rhythm. They were in tune with each other from the very first moment, all thoughts forgotten.

Their ragged breaths, her sweet sighs and his deep moans were a music of their own. Lizzie had her legs wrapped around Orion, her nails digging into his forearms; she could feel his muscles working underneath her fingers as he supported his weight with his arms. Even through the haze of her drunk and drugged mind, she was impressed with how flawlessly they were working together; his body against hers was feeling so incredibly natural, like they were meant to be that way.

She had no idea how, but just like before, Orion managed to hit all the right spots at the same time. Lizzie had trouble focusing on anything but the fire building inside her. She couldn’t form a coherent thought anymore, wasn’t able to think any further than the next breath, the next shock of pleasure Orion sent through her body as they moved.

Feeling she was almost there, her hold on him tightened as he picked up the pace, shifting slightly to take a little strain off his arms. Taken by surprise at the suddenly different angle, digging her fingers into Orion’s shoulders was all Lizzie could do as her high crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her body shook as she buried her face against Orion’s chest, clinging to him as if for dear life.

Hearing his name fall from her lips in a broken moan with her nails biting into his back, Orion couldn’t last much longer either. Their rhythm became an off-beat one, his movements more erratic than before. Lizzie could feel the muscles in his back tremble as he rode out his own high. His head dipped into the crook of her neck as both their breathings were starting to slow.

Orion stayed on top of her for a moment longer and kissed her one last time before pushing himself off of her. Lizzie breathed in deeply, running her hand over her tangled hair.

“Huh,” she chuckled, “who would’ve thought.”

“Who indeed,” Orion smirked.

The sizzling tension between them from before was gone and it just felt like it had always done between them; relaxed, familiar and completely natural.

They looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously bursting into laughter, nothing more than friends again, the sound carrying through the dark, out of the window and into the black night sky.

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #lizzie jameson #lizion #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate #so much for me saying I'll never write smut for my ocs

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

Magic Moment

Hello! I could NOT resist writing another blurb about boyfriend!harry for my lovely friend, @bfharry‘s BOYFRIENDATHON after I got this idea! I’ve always loved baseball myself and playing lots of catch at work recently inspired this, as well as falling in love with Queen ;) Enjoy some fluff about playing catch with boyfriend!harry at your childhood home c:

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: This Magic Moment by Ben E. King and The Drifters (click to listen and yes Sandlot *wink*)

“Follow your heart, kid, and you can never go wrong.”

- The Sandlot

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” you jest, giggling nervously. The screen door closes with a loud whap! behind the both of you.

“Ya, maybe it wasn’t fer you,” he sighs in a whisper, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His high-top white converses slap! down the wooden stairs quickly. “I think I need anotha beer afta that.”

“Follow me.”

A humid heat hits you in the face when you open the scarlet-colored door to the garage. The familiar smell welcomes you, and so do the sights of your father’s tools hanging up on the walls. The lawn mower still sits in the same spot, his pair of old glasses remain perched on the windowsill, and the tiny mini fridge in the corner awaits your call.

“Thanks,” he mumbles after taking a long pull from the refreshing beer. You opt for a Whiskey-Coke, instead, the carbonation sending shooting stars across your tongue. You watch him wipe away the bead of sweat running down his forehead, and then the subsequent smile that drills the dimples into his cheeks. “Bloody hell, if that isn’t tha cutest thing ‘ve eva seen.”

A questioning ‘what’ barely passes your lips once you spot the miniature lilac colored baseball glove on a shelf. Next, a laugh falls from your lips and he echoes it with his own adorable concoction.

“Hard t’ believe yer hand was eva that tiny, love.”

“I know, it’s funny that my dad kept it around.”

“I would if I were him, ‘s bloody adorable,” he notes, picking up the battered leather mitt with a content smile. “Ah, lookie here. Up fer a game o’ catch, love? Bet I could whoop yer ass.”

“Harry, you can’t beat somebody in catch!” you protest, the cool liquid gracing your lips, providing you a few seconds of relief from the summer heat.

“We’ll just see ‘bout that, now won’t we?” he teases with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A tan, leather baseball glove hits you square in the chest, landing in your arms while he slips on a darker twin of it. “C’mon, I wanna see how girly of a throw ya got.”

“Oh, shut up. You have no idea what’s coming for you. You’re dating a former softball player here.”

“Am I now? Ya don’t seem that intimidatin’ t’ me, miss,” Harry laughs softly, the billowy cotton of his red Hawaiian themed shirt catching the wind once your feet find the grass. “Dunno how anythin’ can be intimidatin’ afta meetin’ yer bleedin’ father, tho’. Bloody hell,” he remarks, shaking his head.

“It really wasn’t that bad, Harry,” you correct him, placing your tall can beside his dark glass bottle.

“It was. Didn’t know he’d be so fookin’ hard on me, askin’ all o’ those questions. He never even smiled at me once, babe,” he scoffs, sliding the glove onto his large hand and messing around with it until it’s comfortable enough.

“Yes, he did.”

“No, he didn’t. Or I didn’t see it. Dunno why he was so cold t’ me. Ya’ve always had such good things t’ say ‘bout growin’ up with him . . ,” he exhales, tossing the ancient brown and red baseball into the mitt. His short curls dance around atop his head as he crosses the large backyard, the very same one you played kickball in, where you hit home run balls into the woods, set cartwheel records in, and still have the pieces of wood set into the ground marking the bases.

“He’s quiet, Harry, that’s all. You just have to find something in common with him, and then you’ll hit it off. I promise you, he liked you.”

“Don’t believe ya there, he was givin' me tha evil eye tha whole time durin’ dinna, even tho’ I was fakin’ likin’ his burgers. They were dry as hell,” he grumbles, soon coming to a stop a good way across the grassy area. Messing with his light-washed denim shorts, he checks his phone before letting it fall back into one of its pockets. “Reckon ‘s cuz yer his li’l girl, loads mo’ protective o’ you cuzz’a that.”

“Keep going, I’m not a sissy.”

“Oh, so I should go long, ‘s that right? Dunno if ya can make it t’ me if I go back any farther,” he winks, the dimples set into his cheeks all the way from here, you notice.

“Would you hush? I pitched all throughout high school, I can make your hand hurt from catching it, if you keep running your mouth,” you argue.

“Oooooo, she’s gettin’ feisty now,” he chuckles, raising his voice to carry across the clipped green grass, tall trees framing the yard. He pats his taut fist into the palm of the glove, the baseball snug in his large hand. Why, of course it is, Mr. Huge Hands.

Seconds later, the ball soars through the air and banks to the left, but with a jump, you catch it just in time.

“What the hell was that?” you laugh, holding up your hands.

“Erm, ‘m warmin’ up? Y’know, gotta get the old righty back in ‘s place,” he insists, stretching his dominant arm this way and that, ever so dramatically.

“Whatever. You’re full of shit, Harry,” you call back, adding extra volume to your voice. His bottom lip escapes to between his teeth while his head goes from side to side. You surprise him with your throw and he misses it, pulling a loud laugh from your lips. “Not so confident, are we now?”

“Shuddup! Ya were a bloody softball player, ya got advantage ova me, ‘s not fair.”

“Don’t you start whining now! You’re the one who wanted to play catch with a five time-.”

“Ya ya, we get tha point, babe. Yer a bloody star when it comes t’ softball. I know, I know. Wish I coulda seen ya play, woulda been fun. Ya should join a summer league, they sound like a hoot,” he comments, locating the ball at last back in the woods and landing it in your glove.

“And I played with my brother all of the time, and he was M.V.P two years in a row on his high school baseball team.”

“Good fer him, maybe he should be out here playin’ with you, instead,” Harry says when your throw to him sails over his head. “God, can ya control that arm o’ yers fer once?”

“Sorry!” you laugh, knowing that he doesn’t believe it for a second.

“Sure ya are.”

The ball arrives in your mitt with a pleasing whap! and your hand settles over it. Brushing your fingers along the coarse stitches, the shocks of green grass stains on the leather welcome you back to your childhood, tossing around this very same ball with your older brother and father. The nostalgia brings your hand to your pocket, and your fingers soon tap the screen of your phone.

“C’mon, slow poke! What’re ya waitin’ fer? ‘Fraid ‘ll beat ya afta all?” Harry quips from across the yard, nearing you to retrieve his beer that he sips from. With a pleased ‘ahhhh,’ he sets it down on the gray cinder blocks of the nearby fire pit after walking back, placing enough space between him and it so he doesn’t run into it.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, music soon pours from the large bluetooth speaker in between you against the garage.

“‘s this just fantasy? Caught inn’a landslide, no escape from realityyyyyy. Open yer eyes, look up t’ tha skies, and seeeeee,” Harry sings loudly, pumping his arms down at his sides and closing his eyes adamantly. “‘m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy. Because ‘m easy come, easy go, li’l high, li’l low.”

“Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to meeeeee,” you sing back, savoring the large smile painting his face as he catches your throw with ease.

“Toooo meeee,” he sings back. “Mamaaaaaa just killed a man, put a gun against his head. Pulled my trigger, now’s he dead. Mamaaaaa, life had just begunnnn. But now ‘ve gone and thrown it all awayyyyy,” he sings to the baby blue skies dotted with clouds, adamantly strumming an invisible guitar. He echoes your laugh that flies between the two of you, joining the robins and starlings flitting between the trees. “Knew I picked a good one, she’s got a good arm and a bloody good taste in music. Ya betta play Take On Me next, or all bets are off.”

“Oh, you know that I will. It feels like an eighties night, playing catch in the backyard during the summer. It’s just like when I was little,” you note aloud, jogging to the right to catch his next throw until it falls into your glove.

“‘Bout tha same fer me, just with footy, think this ‘s how ‘d like t’ spend my summers still . . I loved it so much, playin’ in tha backyard listenin’ t’ tha radio, and think my kids would too,” he says casually, sparking a blush in your cheeks at the mention of him as a father. Oh, what you would do to be able to see him playing catch with a little dark-haired boy or girl who calls him ‘Daddy.’

Fuck me, you think hastily.

Quickly, your shared favorite part of the song comes and he imitates the guitar shredding while you repeatedly toss the ball into your mitt, watching him.

“But eva since I watched Wayne’s World as a kid, I can’t avoid bangin’ my head when it gets t’ this part,” Harry chuckles, tossing a pop fly towards the overhang of tree branches. “I love tha trees here, ya know, ‘ve neva seen so many.”

“Me too, I love that part in the movie, and I love them too. It’s crazy to think how long they’ve been around to get this big. Some of them were as tall as I am now when I was little.”

“Huh,” he hums curiously, shooting into the air to grab a high one you tried to trick him with. Your eyes can’t help but wander to his dark fern tattoos that peek out when his shirt rises. “Ya think I should keep it still, or get rid o’ it?” Harry poses to you, puckering his lips at you with a mischievous grin.

“You almost remind me of Freddie Mercury with that ‘stache,” you say, the laugh growing from somewhere deep inside of you. He shrugs his shoulders and tosses a fast one back to you, hitting your glove square in the center with a heavy slap!

“Dunno why ya think that’s such a good joke, ‘s a damn compliment, if ya ask me.”

“Uh oh, are we getting a big head over there because you’ve caught my last three throws?” you joke, watching the ball soar high into the air amongst the green covering of the trees.

“Hey, be easy on me,” he pouts, his words disagreeing with his actions that send a hot fastball into your palm.

“Why? You’re never easy on me when we play Mario Kart or Cribbage.”

“Hey! You don’t have a bleedin’ nearly professional career in any o’ those!” he protests and then curses when your curveball nicks the tip of his glove.

“So, and neither do you, and you’re still aggressive as fuck when we play them! Huh, what’s your excuse, Harry?”

“Galileo!” he calls out.

“Galileo!” you echo, and the rest follow suit between the two of you as the song plays.

“‘m just a poor boyyyyy, nobody loves me,” he sings loudly, causing you to cough on your drink that you take a swig from.

“Keep telling yourself that,” you shoot back, setting down the wet can as he approaches you.

“But I am,” he whines, pushing out his bottom lip that you flick with your finger.

“Watch it!”

“Or what?” you counter, savoring the annoyed expression that soon fills his features. There’s just something about pushing his buttons that gets you going, even though you know that you shouldn’t do it.

“Or else I won’t bloody learn tha rest o’ Blackbird on guitar fer you,” he retorts playfully, taking a long pull from his bottle.

Now, it’s your turn to shout ‘hey!’ until he scoops you into his arms, your surprised shriek piercing the sky.

“You better finish learning it! But, I think that I like Freddie better.”

“How? Paul ‘s far betta. ‘ll always love Queen, and The Beatles don’t have anythin’ on Bohemian Rhapsody, but Paul ‘s tha betta musician. Trust me, I should know,” he disagrees, pecking your temple before pulling away and tossing the ball into your waiting glove.

“But, Freddie had a four octave range.”

“And? So does Paul,” Harry shrugs, raising his left arm in the air to snag your fastpitch that he almost loses. “Paul McCartney ‘s tha superior musician, just trust me on this.”

“Paul McCartney has nothing on Freddie Mercury,” a voice pipes up, turning the both of your heads to the right where you find your dad stepping out of the garage with a weathered black baseball glove snug upon his right hand.

You swear that you could hear Harry’s apprehensive gulp from all of the way over here, and when you look, you find his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“But Paul was betta on guitar, bass, and drums,” Harry argues, nervously tossing the ball into his glove repeatedly.

Your dad closes the door behind him softly, and steps out on the grass, adjusting his glasses. Surprise is absent from your range of emotions when your dad shrugs his shoulders, but you’re sure that it coats Harry’s insides in the next few moments.

“You’re right there, I like somebody who can stand up for their argument,” he comments, nodding a head towards Harry who out of the corner of your eye is smiling, just the slightest. “I think I might like this one,” he says to you, holding out his glove towards Harry, with his lips curling into his cheeks.

The smile on your boyfriend’s face almost matches that of your father’s, but he’s got nothing on the grin plastered across Harry’s face because of your next words.

“I think I do, too, Dad.”

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

Catch and Release - 5

Catch and Release: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 3289

Rating: E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - Steve's Apartment

Warnings: Smut (MMF, oral and vaginal sex, overstimulation)

Synopsis: When you overexert yourself on a mission with Steve and Bucky, the boys admit to having fantasies that involve you. Fantasies that you share. But with one Super Soldier needs intimacy and the other is still dealing with being touch starved, exploring those desires without anyone catching feelings is a little tricky.

Chapter 5: Lying in Wait

You knocked on the door to the apartment that Steve and Bucky shared. They'd asked you around for dinner, which meant dinner and experimenting with their sexuality, and you were more than a little excited. The dice game had gone over really well and for a couple of days after they would each come and tell you about what parts they liked the most. You knew that they’d want to take it further and try more things. Especially given Steve hadn’t technically gone ‘all the way’ with you.

You were very excited too. This whole thing had not at all been what you’d expected. The whole idea of a down and dirty three-way that was all about sex and just getting that release at the hands of the two super soldiers was definitely one that you’d visited alone a lot of times. Somehow this was even better. Steve and Bucky were such good friends, and this arrangement you’d come to was both exciting and safe all at once. They might be finding out more about themselves, but this was your opportunity to find out more about yourself too.

Steve answered and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. It was funny really, you’d seen him on and off all day, but that was Cap. Steve was a whole different person in a lot of ways and so even though you’d only seen him half an hour ago, this was the first time you were seeing him all day. “Come in,” he said as he held the door open for you.

“I bought wine.” You said holding up the bottle of merlot you’d ‘stolen’ from Tony’s cellar.

“Trying to get us drunk are you?” He asked taking it from you.

You chuckled and followed through the apartment to the table. Their place was a weird mix of old and new. There was a blue velvet wingback couch sitting next to a black leather recliner that had speakers in the headrest. An old cabinet style record player sat next to a large flat-screen TV and had a PS4 sitting on top of it. A set of nesting tables sat in front of the couch and each one was littered with art supplies and Steve’s shield was propped up against the couch.

The walls were decorated with artwork of vintage motorcycles and photos of family and friends. One entire wall was boxed shelving, and each shell was full of books and vinyls. There was no clear theme to any of it. A boxed set of Harry Potter novels sat next to books on military tactics. The Wizard of Oz series was there in its entirety but each volume was sitting on a different shelf. The Wizard of Oz was next to a book on guided meditation. Ozma of Oz was beside some vintage Captain America comic books.

Bucky was in the kitchen cooking. He had his hair pulled back and a floral apron on. The kitchen itself was quite modern and clean compared to the living room. The benchtops were black granite and the fittings were all brushed chrome. Bucky smiled when he saw you and came over and kissed your cheek. “Everything is nearly ready.” He said.

“It smells so good,” you said. “And you look amazing.”

He pinched your hip and went back to his cooking. “Steve, did you put your shit away?”

“Yes,” Steve lied, going straight to the coffee tables and bundling up the art supplies.

“That means your shield too,” Bucky said.

“It’s away,” Steve said. He shoved the drawings and pencils into one of the gaps on the bookshelf before grabbing his shield and shoving it into the hall cupboard.

You chuckled and took down some wine glasses. “It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, I will never get over the fact that he’s the messy one.”

“He’s always been the messy one,” Bucky said. “Drives me crazy.”

“Can I help at all?” You asked as you poured out three glasses.

“There’s a salad in the fridge. You think you can take it out to the table?”

The table was already partially set. The plates and silverware were out, as was a loaf of crusty bread. You took the salad out and by the time you were sitting with Steve and taking your first sip from your wine glass Bucky was bringing out a serving platter piled high with risotto.

“So,” you said, as you all started filling your plates. “What shall we do tonight?”

“Oh, uh…” Steve said, almost dropping his fork. “We thought dinner and if you wanted we could watch a movie…”

“Really? That’s what you want to do?” You teased.

“He’s being polite because he doesn’t want you to feel pressured to do anything,” Bucky said.

“Oh, I know.” You said playfully, putting your hand on Steve’s.

“I just want to make sure you know that your friendship is important to me too,” Steve said, giving your hand a squeeze. “I don’t want to put the sex above that.”

Bucky smiled and leaned over the table and kissed him. Not that you could blame him. You could practically feel your heart swell up. When Bucky sat back in his chair, Steve looked a little love-struck himself.

“Then we should hang out as friends sometime,” you said as everyone started eating. “Like we used to. But I am wearing really expensive lingerie and I’d really like to show you it.”

“And I would definitely like to see it,” Bucky said.

“We were talking about just…” Steve stopped mid-sentence and froze like he had forgotten the word he was looking for. “You know… normal.”

You and Bucky looked at each other and bit back laughter. “Ah yes, normal threesome style, Stevie. Just the way everyone who has threesomes does it.”

Steve looked at Bucky deadpan. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, yeah. I do ‘cause we talked about it before.” Bucky teased. “What he means is because part of this is him getting to do some things he hasn’t done before, we’d like to focus on you and it just be…”

“... vanilla guy on girl sex.” You finished.

“That’s the one,” Bucky said tapping his forehead.

“Gonna run the train,” you said and took a sip of your wine. “Nice.”

“Is that okay?” Steve asked.

“More than.” You said. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything,” Steve answered.

“And just to be clear here, I’m talking to Cap. Not Steve.” You added.

“Oh,” Steve said, his posture stiffening. “What is it?”

“No,” Bucky groaned. “Don’t invoke the Captain in here.”

“Just for a second. I promise.” You said. “What happens if the others find out about what we’re doing?”

Steve’s jaw tensed and twitched at the corners as he thought. “I don’t think we should go around bragging about it,” he said. “But this is our personal business We aren’t breaking any rules. If the find out, they find out.”

“Besides, if Tasha doesn’t already suspect, then I don’t think that’s Natasha and we better find out where the real Natasha is,” Bucky added.

You laughed and nodded. “True. You know if Tony finds out he’s going to give you hell for it.”

“What’s new?” Steve said with a small shrug. “Besides, like he can talk.”

“Also valid.” You said. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure. I agree. I don’t want to go telling … well anyone, but like Bucky said, Nat figures this shit out, and I don’t want to be lying to our friends.”

Steve reached over and rubbed your arm. “I would never ask you to do that. You aren’t our dirty little secret. You’re our friend.”

“God, Steve. Saying all the right things tonight. I’m gonna fuck your brains out.” You said.

“And I’ve got second,” Bucky added, reaching over and taking Steve’s hand.

The three of you finished up dinner and cleaned up together. Steve had been right. The three of you needed to nurture the friendship too. This was how this started after all.

When the kitchen was practically sparkling Steve came up behind Bucky and wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his neck. Bucky closed his eyes and hummed softly. He held out his hand to you and you took it and let him pull you into his arms.

His eyes opened and he blinked slowly, as he gazed down at you. “Ready, darlin’?”

You smiled up at him as Steve’s arm snaked around you and he pressed his large hand to the middle of your back. “As I’ll ever be.”

Bucky leaned in and ghosted his lips over yours. You reached up and tangled your hands in his hair and pulled him into a hungry kiss. Steve kissed and nipped at Bucky’s throat as the two of you kissed and pulled you a little tighter against Bucky. You could feel Bucky start to harden against you and you pulled back with a quiet gasp.

“Bedroom?” He asked.

“Bedroom.” You agreed and Bucky put an arm around each of you and the three of you made your way down to the bedroom.

The room was painted sage, with gray trim. The floor to ceiling windows on the far side looked out over the East River and beyond that, Brooklyn. There were more shelves against one wall, though they mostly held little knick-knacks. Things like a signed baseball, a Build-a-Bear dressed as Captain America, and model spaceships - the kind you built yourself. Next to it was an antique drafting table with more art supplies and sketches littering it. There were framed prints on the one bare wall above the bed, each one held different black and white photographs of the New York skyline over the years.

The bed was a king and had been made. A crocheted quilt in dark red and white lay folded in half at the foot over the gunmetal quilt. The bedside table on the left was clean and neat with a digital alarm clock, a dock for a Stark phone a worn copy of Dune. There was also a basket with condoms and lube, the same as you had set up when they’d come to your place. You wondered if he’d decided to steal the idea from you. You couldn’t imagine that they were still using protection like that with each other. The bedside table on the right was a mess of water bottles, notebooks, dog eared novels, colognes, and random scraps of paper.

You looked around as you unzipped your dress. Bucky and Steve began to undress too. “I’ve never seen your room before.”

“So many firsts tonight,” Bucky said playfully.

“Your bed is big enough to fit us three and Thor too.” You said dropping your dress and revealing the black lace push up bra and thong you were wearing.

The two men looked you over like hungry wolves. “Two super soldiers not enough for you,” Bucky teased, stalking over to you and hooking his arm around your waist. “You gotta include a god too?”

“Hey, I’ve been single for ages. Let me have my fantasies.” You joked, as he pulled you to him and lifted you, carrying you to the bed and dropping you on the mattress.

You lay back and arched your back as both Steve and Bucky crawled up with you. Both had taken their shirts and shoes off, but while Steve was down to his boxers, Bucky was still in his jeans. “You’re giving us ours, if you want to share yours with us, we’ll see what we can do.” Steve rumbled as he kissed your neck and collarbone. His hand ran down between your breasts and over your stomach, making your skin break out in goosebumps.

Bucky kissed the other side of your neck and tangled his hand in your hair. “Threesomes are the most common fantasy you know?” You half moaned. “And they’re more common to have the older you get.”

“How do you know this stuff?” Steve asked as he moved his hand to your cunt and he slowly began to palm it.

You moaned pushing up against his hand. “It was in a documentary. You guys are over a hundred. So bringing Thor in would be good for you.”

Steve snorted while Bucky broke down laughing. “We’ll keep that in mind, dork.” Bucky teased and kissed you.

As you kissed, Steve kissed lower. He paused at your breasts and sucked and bit at your nipples through your bra. You reached behind you and unhooked it Steve slid it down and pulled your nipple into his mouth. Bucky joined him at your other breast and they both sucked and bit your breasts as Steve’s hand slipped into your panties and he started to finger your clit. You moaned and squeezed your legs around his hand as you writhed under them.

Steve moved down lower, pushing your legs apart and pulling your panties down. He nuzzled at your cunt and flattened his tongue running it up your folds. You put your feet on his shoulders and pushed your hips up into his mouth. Bucky’s hand caressed your throat as he continued to suck and bite at your beasts.

The sounds you made got louder and louder as Steve became more and more focused. You could tell he hadn’t done this before, but the way he moved was almost like watching him in the field. He’d stop and cock his head to the side while his tongue flicked over your clit or his fingers moved inside of you, when you moaned just the way he wanted, he’d focus on what he’d just done.

As they brought your apart with just their hands and mouths, they kept touching each other too. Stroking each other’s backs or legs. While you moaned and bucked, your orgasm right there on the brink, they held hands.

Steve corkscrewed his wrist and sucked hard on your clit and you came, arching hard up off the mattress and crying out. “Fuck, yes!”

Steve sat up, a proud little smile on his glistening lips. Bucky got up on his knees and kissed him hungrily. You wrapped your legs around Steve and began to grind against his erection as you unfastened Bucky’s jeans. Bucky pushed Steve’s boxers down and began to stroke his cock and Steve groaned into Bucky’s lips, his cock jumping in Bucky’s hand and leaking precum onto your pussy as you rubbed against him.

Bucky broke the kiss and began to nuzzle at Steve’s neck. “You gonna fuck her, Stevie?” He whispered.

Steve groaned and grabbed your thighs. “Yeah, Buck. I want to.”

“She’s so wet and warm, Steve,” Bucky whispered as he grabbed a condom. “You’re gonna really like it.”

Steve closed his eyes and caressed his fingers over your stomach and cunt. You reached up and cradled his jaw as Bucky rolled the condom down over his shaft. Steve looked down at you, his blue eyes blown out with lust. With a snap of his hips, he sunk deep into you.

You both gasped and you arched back as he lifted your hips up to him. Bucky kissed Steve again before leaning down and sucking on your breasts against. His metal fingers went to your clit and rubbed it as Steve started to slowly rut his hips against you, each thrust accompanied by a roll, so it felt like he was touching every part of you.

You felt like a live wire. All your nerves were raw and stimulated as they made you the center of attention. Steve fucked you slow and deep, filling you completely. You gripped his wrists and rolled your hips with him. Pleasure swirled through, starting in your breasts and cunt and meeting in your core. It pressed down on you and radiated out until it was all you knew and all you wanted to know. Your core clenched and you came hard, bucking up under them.

Steve was far from close though. He picked up his pace, fucking you harder and a little more erratically. Bucky began to massage the base of his cock and balls while his thumb rubbed your clit. He switched from one breast to the next, keeping you right on the edge as Steve fucked you.

Steve’s eyes stayed locked with yours and his jaw tensed. You jerked up suddenly as another orgasm tore through you, and with a hard snap of his hips, he came.

Bucky sat back as you relaxed down panting and Steve slipped from within you. “How’re you doing there, darlin’?” He asked as he ran his hands up Steve’s chest.

Steve kissed Bucky’s neck and got up, removing his condom and tossing it out. “Really good, Buck,” you hummed. “You gonna fuck me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Bucky replied, grabbing one of the condoms and sheathing himself. You sat up and stretched a little and Bucky sat opposite you. You climbed into his lap and lowered yourself down onto his cock. As you began to bounce on his cock Steve moved up behind you and sat with his legs on either side of you and Bucky. He kissed your neck and ran his hands over the two of you. Caressing skin. Pinching nipples. He rubbed your clit and massaged Bucky’s base.

You and Bucky kissed as you moved as one. Your lips moved from lips to neck and back again and the sounds of your moans combined with each other’s and filled the room.

Sweat began to bead your skin as heat flowed through your veins, burning you up from the inside out. Steve hardened against your back as you moved. You began to feel fuzzy and high. Steve’s fingers worked your clit as you bounced faster and faster. It wasn’t long before you came again, and Bucky broke the kiss with a strained groan, gritting his teeth as he tried not to be dragged along with you. It was no use though, his hips jerked and he came just after you.

You stayed joined, slowly rolling your hips as his cock emptied. Steve ghosted his lips up the side of your neck and nipped at your earlobe. “You up for more?” He said in a soft growl.

“Mmm… I could go again.” You hummed.

Three and a half hours the three of you spent switching from one to the other, the only break you got was to rehydrate. By the time you called defeat you wondered if you were ever going to learn your lesson about trying to keep up with the two super soldiers.

You lay panting on the mattress as Bucky and Steve both lay back, the sweat running down their chests in rivulets. You cunt ached and your legs felt weak. You had a vague feeling like you should get up and pee. Get dressed. Go home. You didn’t think you’d even be able to get up. You could barely even think straight. It was all soft-focused.

You struggled up too sitting and blinked around the room.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” Steve asked, putting his hand on your hip.

“Gotta go home,” you mumbled.

“You’re exhausted. Just stay.” Steve reassured you.

“Yeah, darlin’, you liked cuddling with us when we were camping,” Bucky added.

“If I sleepover, then they’ll know.” You tried to reason.

Steve sat up and kissed your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. “So they know. We’re adults, we can do what we want. Now lie down, you’re exhausted.”

You let yourself collapse back down, unable to think of one possible argument. They both wrapped you in their arms and you were asleep before the blanket was even pulled over you.

// NEXT

#SSB2020 #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #catch and release #lying in wait

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1-800-hellraiser · 4 years

Text

Teeth (Yandere!Eyeless Jack x Reader)

Requested by: no one

Pages: 5.1

Words: 1,821

Genre: Angst kinda (I promise this is gonna be the last angsty fic for a while-)

Associated song: Teeth - 5SOS

!Tw! Swearing, gore, yandere themes, almost puking, and mentions of murder.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

"Blood on my shirt, rose in my hands, you're looking at me like you don't know who I am. Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand, still beating."

Eyeless Jack has, for lack of a better term, an infatuation with you. Ever since he met you, he couldn't get you off his mind, you're the eternal flame he's been looking for to light up his life. He would do anything for you, and when I say anything, I mean anything. This mans would sacrifice himself for you, and pray for any poor soul that tries to flirt with you around Jack. Ej will absolutely smite them, not around you of course. He wants you to see the clam, collected, stoic side of him, not the monster side. He will never forgive himself if you saw him like that.

You met Jack about six months ago at a house party, you were supposed to be his target along with a few others. But, the way you fought against him, he knew you weren't going down without a fight. Jack was captivated by how you fight, you managed to stab him in the ribs with a piece of glass from a broken beer bottle. He had to give himself stitches when he returned to the mansion that night. You're a real life final girl, you somehow managed to defy death and instead get brought back to a creepy mansion in the woods full of serial killers. It's not the best outcome, but hey! At least you're not dead!

Now you're training to become a pasta, and you're still Ej's roomie. You enjoy sharing a room with Ej, he keeps his room pristine and orderly, unlike some other pastas *cough cough* Jeff *cough cough*. You'd think Jack's room would smell like rot and death, but he is actually provided a lab to work in. Now that, that room smells like death. No matter how many candles you light, no matter how much Fabreeze you spray, that room will always smell like rot. It's a good thing that everyone has gone nose-blind to the smell though. Anyway, being roommates with a cannibal has it's perks, such as Jack keeping a mini fridge in his room for his "food". He lets you keep food in it too, because he knows how much you hate it when someone eats your leftovers. Jack is also a very comforting person, he's helped you out with your nightmares before. His presence is also just comforting in general.

Anyway, enough of me simping for Jack, we have to get on with the story at hand. You just got out of your morning shower. You've already brushed your teeth, dried and styled your hair, and put on deodorant. You step out of the misty bathroom and pad into Jacks room. Your e/c eyes catch a small, yellow square off paper stuck onto the top of Jack's desk. You peel the Paper off of the polished wooden surface and read the note. 'Dear Y/n, I have to go on a quick mission, I don't know when I'll be back, but I already made coffee for you, Enjoy! - Ej.' You smile, blood rushing to your cheeks. You realize you're blushing and rub at you're cheeks, you shouldn't be feeling like this about your cannibalistic demon roommate. Part of you says no, but the other screams yes. You're torn.

You decide to push your thoughts out and drink your coffee. You take a mug off of the handle screwed into the wall. Yes, Jack has not only a coffee machine in his room, but also mugs. Anyway, you take the pot and pour the steaming, bitter liquid into your mug. You like your coffee how Jack likes his, black and very bitter. The only difference between your coffee and his, is that Jack puts certain types of blood in his coffee. Certain types of blood have certain effects on him, which is cool, but also terrifying. Taking a sip of your coffee, you shudder at the taste.

"Oh yeah, that's good shit," you mutter to yourself. You happily plop yourself on your bed and take another long sip of your bitter beverage. Since you and Jack share a room, you both decided to split the room down the middle. For example, Jack's side of the room is painted royal blue, he has a bunch of shelves for his medical equipment and a filing cabinet full of every resident's medical records. He also has a desktop and a coffee machine next to it, on the desk a bunch of unwashed, empty coffee cups and paperwork.

Your side however, is almost completely different. Your walls are painted a dark f/c and have posters everywhere of your favorite bands and singers. You also have a shelf that holds cute figurines and a place to charge your phone and laptop. You have put up LED lights around the shelf and fairy lights around the top. You also have hooks on the wall next to your bed holding your hoodies and other things. It's funny, because when a creep walks into your/Jack's room, they see one side that's organized and professional looking, Then, they see your side. You know you're messy and quiet proud of it. Anyways, you open your laptop and scroll through Youtube, trying to find something to watch. You found something, but your stomach growled. You realize you haven't ate anything yet, reluctantly you stand up and amble out to the kitchen.

Once you make it into the kitchen, you open the fridge to try and find something to eat. You rummage around and find f/s (favorite snack), jackpot. You smile and walk happily back to your/Ej's room. You get back into your shared room, you begin to watch Youtube.

Almost halfway though bingeing Markiplier's Fnaf series, you get a message from Clockwork. Your e/c eyes quickly read over the text.

Clocky :)

Hey Y/n! Do you wanna walk around the woods with me?

Y/n

Sure! Just give me a few minutes

Clocky :)

Ok! I'll be waiting outside

You hide your snack and grab your shoes, you slip on your shoes and a jacket, since it's pretty cold out today. Exiting the room, you manage to navigate through the long and twisting hallways. You finally reach the front doors and step out of the house. "Took you long enough," Clockwork huffs jokingly, you playfully jab her with your elbow and laugh. "So, how are you?" "I'm doing good, waiting for Ej to get back from his mission," you explain, Clockwork gives you a strange look. "Slender didn't give him a mission today," Clockwork says, you give her a weird look back. "Really? He wrote me a note, saying he had to go on a mission today and he'll be back."

Clockwork thinks for a minute, then it clicks. "Ooooooh~ somebody might have an admirer~" Clockwork gushes at you, poking your cheek. Your cheeks immediately heat up. "Oh my god shut uppppppp," Clockwork giggles at your flustered-ness. "Jack and Y/n, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g-" you put a hand over her mouth, "cease" you grumble, now flustered to hell and back. You hear clockworks muffled chuckle under your hand.

Once you get back to the mansion, you say your goodbye to Clockwork and trudge back to your room to think. You flop face down on your bed and groan into your pillow. You turn over to face the ceiling, you hate to admit it, but, you think you're starting to crush on Ej a bit. Don't get it twisted, Ej is fucking smoking hot. Even though, you've only seen him without his mask on twice, mans could commit arson with just his face he's THAT hot. But on the other hand, he's a cannibalistic demon serial killer. You feel like you have morals, but you shouldn't because you have to kill for a living too. You're no better than him in all honesty. You sigh and flip over to your side, now facing Jack's bed.

Come to think of it, you feel like he's way out of your league. Jack's not only stunning, but he's very smart, he was a health major for god's sake. Your heart cracks a bit, realizing you're not good enough for him in your mind. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you squeeze your eyes shut and silently cry to yourself. But before you could get any tears out, you hear the bedroom door squeak open. "Y/n? Are you awake?" You immediately sit up in your bed, "Hey Jack, how was the mission," you ask as jack closes the door and flicks on the lights. Jack is covered in blood, with a beautiful red rose in one hand, and a human heart in the other. This doesn't freak you out, considering he's a cannibal, Jack hands the rose to you. "I saw this and though you'd like it." Jack mumbled sheepishly.

You break out into a genuine smile. "Thank you, Jack, it's beautiful," you say, lightly grazing the soft petals with your fingertips. Then, Jack hands you the heart, you instantly pale. You look up at Jack, "T-this is for me?" You ask, Jack nods, you take the squishy organ in your hand. You almost vomit when the bloody organ contacts your hand. "where did you get this from?" "The guy who sold me the rose." Jack explains. You stare at him in shock, you ask him simply why, and Jack says "Because he knew you, He was going to steal you from me. And we can't have that." Jack says, stroking your cheek. "What was his name," your heart drops, you hope you weren't close with this person. "His name was...Jay, I believe?" Jack answers, and you burst into tears.

Jay was your best friend since fifth grade, he's helped you through so much. You just got told that your crush murdered your best friend, and now you're holding his heart. Jack tries to put a hand on your shoulder and you scoot as far back on your bed as you could go. You look Jack in the eyes and tell him to leave you alone, he tries to reason with you again and you just tell him to leave again. You don't think you can ever forgive Jack for what he's done.

#ily <3333 #ilysm <333 #<3 <3 <3 #<333 #yandere #creepypasta #creepypasta ej #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #oneshots #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #angst #requests are open

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circuscarnage · 5 years

Text

Part 2 of ???

I’ll keep the intro short, since the fic is so long. I wrote more! I actually can’t stop myself whenever I get a new idea. It’s just so fun to write, I adore it! Also a special thank you to @choconanime @disasteromnia and @edda-blattfe for letting me incorporate their OC’s into it. I hope you enjoy.

Words: 1580

After the events that transpired earlier, Anna was unable to do her job of painting the roses, and instead put the paint back and headed to the Heartslabyul dormitory. Luckily, they were right beside the Night Raven garden, and thankfully she did not have to travel very far. It wasn't hard to miss any of the dormitories, you could see them from miles away. Each one was specially catered to a specif theme, and that included the exterior. Heartslabyul was no different. The outside was decorated with brightly coloured rose bushes, and the castle was tinted a deep red with accents of white. Hearts were dotted all over the castle, but there was no time to sight see, she felt as if she would fall apart any second. But she persisted. Anna was able to maintain a straight face. Until she entered the Heartslabyul dorm.

As soon as the door behind her closed, Anna collapsed onto the floor in a nervous heap. She felt the weight of her actions suddenly come crashing down on her. Of course she knew exactly who Malleus Draconia was. It would be a challenge to get through a week at this school without his name being mentioned. He was everywhere. In hushed whispered and silent conversations. There was no escaping him.

It was considered bad luck if you disturbed him. And, instead of apologising instantly and begging for forgiveness, she had the bright idea to question his existence. Great going, Anna! Now one of the most powerful fae's will remember you as 'that one girl who almost spilled paint all over him and forgot who he was!'

Her hands clasped over her head, trying to contain the manic shaking that was convulsing through her body. This was surely not going to end well for her. Sure, Malleus had the courtesy to fix her uniform and reverse the damage she had caused. But he probably only did that because of how pitiful she looked. Absolutely pathetic, hunched on the ground covered in paint. And then there was the other one, the one with the green hair. He only made matters worse, spewing on and on about how weak humans were in comparison. Damn that intolerant, slightly handsome, guy.

Anna's attention was snagged away when she heard two voices coming towards her. Cater and Choco entered the common area, talking and laughing as they walked. It is very rare that these two would be seen together, but today seemed to be full of surprises. They stopped in their tracks instantly when they found the mortified Anna hunched on the floor. They exchange a look before heading over and helping the distressed student.

Choco keeled down beside her, placing a hand on her shaking shoulder. "Anna? Is everything okay?" Anna shook her head, not removing her gaze from the floor. Sweat started to form on Choco's cheek as she began to panic. She was used to dealing with the chaos that came with the trio, but this was an entirely different subject. Just as Choco was about to ask what happened, Anna answered. "I just told a member of Diasomnia to 'bite me'"

"Kinky." Cater winked. There was a pause. Both Anna and Choco turned to face him slowly, unimpressed by his efforts to cheer her up. Anna sent him a sharp glare. Her expression could only be described as pure hostility. "You are not helping, Cater."

"Jeez, sorry. Thought it would help lighten the mood. Obviously not." He put his hands up defensively and huffed. Without missing a beat, Choco quickly changed the subject. "Did you paint the roses?" Choco asked, trying to divert Anna's attention elsewhere.

"No. No, I couldn't. I had to come back here. I couldn't stand being there any longer. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Choco said, patting her shoulder gently. "Me and Trey will paint them for you, okay? Please calm down."

"Sorry, I don't mean to be so much trouble."

"No, No! Not at all!" Choco reassured her. She gently helped Anna off the floor and make her way over to the hallway. "Come on, I'll take you to my room, we can talk there. Do you want to discus what happened?" Anna nodded slowly. Cater was left alone in the common room. Until he heard the angry shouting of a certain red haired leader.

Unbeknown to them, another student at Night Raven was also having a serious problem. He paced the hallways of Diasomnia, constantly walking up and down the cobbled floors, footsteps echoing throughout the dim castle. He had been doing this for a while now. Whenever he was agitated by something, or something occupied his thoughts for longer than needed, he would try and rid them from his mind by doing mundane tasks. Pacing the hallways seemed to work well, but this particular thought wasn't leaving. It was stuck within his mind, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake it.

The other members of Diasomnia seemed to notice. They were used to his strict behaviour, but never before had they seen him like this. His natural stern demeanour seemed to have increased, which caused other students to keep out of his way.

Two other students from Diasomnia seemed particularly concerned. One a blue fairy and the other a gifted magician. They had kept a close eye on Sebek ever since he came back with the others, noticing that something was off. They split off, trying to gain more information. Blue, going after Lilia, and Ali, questioning Silver. The conversation with Lilia went as well as it always does. Trying to wrangle information out of him is like trying to get Idia to leave his room. The boy lives for gossip, but loves to keep a secret. As such, he was no help.

Ali wasn't a fan of talking to Silver, but her curiosity got the better of her. For the sake of gossip, she approached the silver haired male. He was standing outside of his room, not being able to sleep as the sound of footsteps prevented him from doing so. He looked awful, deep purple bags hung under his eyes. Ali had to stifle a laugh before speaking. "What's up with him?" Ali questioned, pointing to Sebek.

Silver sighed. Truth be told, he had no clue. He didn't care enough about his accomplice to question why he was acting like that. "I have no idea," He grumbled. "But I want it to stop." He was just about to approach Sebek when Ali pulled him back. He lazily turned to face her, unfazed by everything. She pulled a frown. "Okay, something must have happened. Did another student challenge Malleus, again?" No. That couldn't be right. If someone challenged Malleus, Sebek would be overjoyed that he won. He wouldn't be walking by himself, he would be fangirling.

"I think it's best if we ask him directly." Blue piped up. Silver and Ali jumped, both surprised to see the fairy suddenly standing behind them. Ali condemned Blue for sneaking up on her, warning that next time she'll have to put a bell around her neck. Blue apologised and laughed it off, turning back to the subject at hand. "So, did something happen?"

Silver ran a hand through his hair, trying to recall the day. He talked as he headed back to his room. "Nothing, really. The only thing that I can think about is him running into a Heartslabyul student, but she was nothing of interest..." With that, a tired Silver retreated to his room, leaving the two girls with more questions.

In the end, it was the blue fae that approached the distressed guard. He stopped dead in his tracks when she approached him, and gave a small bow. Blue was quick to brush off the formalities while Ali concealed a snicker. She had to admit, it was funny seeing an intimidating student like Sebek bow to someone as adorable as Blue. "Here, sit down for a moment." They moved into a concealed area of the Diasomnia dorm, where students would often calmly drink tea and talk. With a wave of her magic wand, three cups and saucers appeared on the table, along with a fancy tea set. She poured a drink for Ali, and then herself. "Would you like a drink? Black coffee?" Blue questioned.

Sebek nodded. He had never tried black coffee before, but had seen Silver drink it many times. Surely, if it was good enough for Silver, it was good enough for him. Blue handed the freshly brewed coffee to him, presented in a chequer cup.

His body instantly rejected it, the bitter taste doing nothing to soothe his worries. Blue noticed this and charged in to help. "Sorry! That must be really bitter. Oh, I have an idea!" Blue reached into her bag and pulled out two flasks. One was white and the other was green. Ali raised an eyebrow as she watched Blue pour the green one in, stir the concoction with a silver spoon, then top it off with the white flask. "Here you go, peppermint syrup and creamer. I think you'll find the drink much more manageable."

Sebek took the drink eagerly, letting the sweet smell waft through the air. He took one sip, and was instantly smitten. The other two watched him gulp the drink down, seeing an almost immediate change in attitude. Blue cleared her throat.

"Now, hon. Why don't you tell us what's troubling you?"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #self insert #oc x cannon #sebek zigvolt #I can't stop writing this storyline I'm finding it too fun #Can you spot all the references?#anna x sebek

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celestialmystical · 4 years

Text

Crystals, a Kalimba, & Lancome Perfume

This morning, September 9th, 2020, I woke up without my consent. It was one of those abrupt, rude awakenings you get quite frequently if you live at my parent's house.

My first thought when I woke up like this was, "Out of all the things I'm not going to miss about America, (which is a lot), having to hear my dog bark at the top of his lungs so early in the morning is at the tippity tip top of my list."

The last couple of days I haven't been able to sleep well because today, at midnight, or I guess tomorrow, I am going to go on a plane to South Korea, where I'll be living for a whole year--at the least.

I've been in a mixture of excitement and nervousness for the last couple of days which I just call antsy. When I'm antsy, even if I fall asleep, the slumber is restless and unsatisfying.

Even the day before I was feeling antsy and tired, but because I had an 'open house' where my friends could come in and chill with me while I packed, it cancelled out my tiredness completely.

It started off with hanging out with my friend, we'll call him Sad Boy, at my local Starbucks. We hadn't talked in a while, probably not since the start of quarantine, six months ago. We had a lot to catch up to each other, and because we both basically have the same astrological chart, we were able to really connect and be there for each other.

It made me think: Am I really ready to leave America and go to South Korea?

Later, we went back to my house and other people came over. We'll call them: Slow Walker, Hot Manga Chick, and Avatar.

We all mostly just sat in my room and talked and caught up with each other. I had one of my suitcases packed before I met up with Sad Boy and didn't really do anything productive while we were all together. But it was extremely fun and comforting to know how much my friends love and care about me.

They were the ones to convince me to write this blog.

Again I thought, Am I ready to go?

Anyway, before dinner time, which was like 6:30, they left.

Then, 10 minutes later, after a long day of work in a hospital and an hour drive, showed up my friend, Birthing Hips.

After I was done eating, we went up into my room, talked, caught up, and I thought she was going to leave, because I thought she was very tired from her long day of work. BUT she stayed. And I am so grateful and thankful that she did.

Without the amazing, practical Birthing Hips and another guest I will mention later, my packing would have been disastrous.

Going through my dresser was fine and easy. It was just delicates, pajamas, and shorts. Birthing Hips helped me slim down my pickings for those things.

Birthing Hips helped me roll my clothes and put them in these plastic bags that you squeeze the air out of so it compresses and makes less space. Birthing Hips used her magical birthing hip strength to squeeze the air out of the bags for me which was no easy feat let me tell you.

Once it came to my closet, that was a more difficult issue.

I told Birthing Hips, I'm just going to take everything that I want to bring off of my hangers and put them in pile.

She was like k.

So, I pulled one thing off. Then another. And another. And another. And another. And another.

Each article of clothing made Birthing Hips' eyes go wider and wider.

Once I was done with my closet, which only had five pieces of clothes left in it, I turned to Birthing Hips, who was starring at me like I was crazy, and said, "That's summer. Now onto winter."

Birthing Hips looked beyond stressed for me. I was oblivious.

I took everything out of the cabinet below my closet and plopped them all onto the same pile.

I said, "Done!"

The pile was higher than my fan, who wears the only bucket hat I own better than I do and is named Rebecca.

Birthing Hips looked at the pile and was like, "Yeah, you're going to have to cut that down."

But I'll be gone for a whole year! I need all of these! I thought then.

But I trusted Birthing Hips because she is so logical and practical, and I am very much whimsical and impulsive, which I know isn't a great thing to be when you're packing. Plus, she has been to South Korea before.

So I tried cutting it.

After a couple of minutes, Birthing Hips spoke again: "I feel like you're just putting the same pile to the other side of the room."

Which I was. But I honestly couldn't imagine myself not having all of those clothes. How am I supposed to know what I'll wanna wear there? I'm going to be there for a whole year, shouldn't I bring everything?

But no. I couldn't. I could only bring 2 suitcases, 1 carry-on, and the suitcases couldn't be anymore than fifty pounds. I wanted one suitcase for clothes and shoes, the other for everything else.

So I really had to think which outfits I had to have now versus what I could have later, when my parents could ship it to me.

Finally, I was able to cut the pile half it's size. And then I cut it again half it's size.

Birthing Hips approved and it was go time.

That's when the amazing Glitter Queen came over with McDonalds and box for me to put stuff that I want shipped to me later in. Yay. She also helped us roll and squeeze the bags of clothes. And helped me decide on only four pairs of shoes.

That was difficult for me. FOUR???

Anyway, after the clothing suitcase, Birthing Hips looked at my other packed suitcase and saw it was still kind of opened.

She was like, "I have a strong feeling we should look in there."

Glitter Queen agreed after hearing about the struggle of me packing my clothes.

They opened it and were immediately mortified.

All of my toiletries were haphazardly placed without protection in the top zipper bag of the suitcase and everything inside was a mess that looked like I was just trying to cram as much stuff in there are possible--which is exactly what I did.

Birthing Hips laughed and took out something, "A crystal? You're bringing a crystal?"

"I'm bringing three of them." I told her.

"This is going to break if we don't wrap it with something."

"Why are you bringing a Kalimba?" Glitter Queen inquired and took out the little instrument that I painted. "Do you even touch this thing?"

"I do!" I yelled.

I took the Kalimba from her and tried to play the Avatar theme song. I failed miserably but still said, "I love this thing. I have to bring it."

Then Glitter Queen took out my huge Lancome Perfume. "Girl, this is going to break and shatter everywhere."

It went on like this. Everything they took out, they had something to joke about how it would break. So we had to take some things out, like one of my crystals because it was an easily breakable one even if we did wrap it, and we had to take out a jewelry box made out of glass. We had to put a lot of things in little baggies to make sure if anything spilled it wouldn't go everywhere.

It made sense to me when they were explaining how each item could have lead to horrible damage and I wasnt angry at all but thankful. It was just so funny to me how I didn't think about any of that at all when I was packing and what might of happened if we never opened that suitcase.

I also took out the Kalimba but I would not compromise the Lancome Perfume.

Priorities, you know?

So we put that in one of my purses and put a towel over everything else.

As I was putting the Kalimba back on the shelf I said, "This is so cute though, even though I don't really use it. I wish I could bring it."

"So you finally admit you don't touch it?" Glitter Queen said.

We all laughed.

Again I thought, Am I ready to leave all of my friends who are so amazing and helpful in so many unique, beautiful ways?

Later we hung out outside with another one of my friends, we'll call him Pumpkin Ghost, which was fun because we spilled, sipped, drank, and choked from laughter on all the tea we had for each other.

I thought, I am so lucky to have such amazing friends. Even though I want to explore the world on my own, am I ready to leave everything and everyone I love and know, and instead, follow my heart and face the unknown?

The next day came, which is today. Nothing really special happened. I ran last minutes errands. Taped shampoo down and put it in a plastic baggie like Birthing Hips told me to do. My mom gave me a pedicure, which hasn't happened since I was a child, but we bickered and talked the same. My dad and I went to get food, we kind of talked and he mostly played on his phone, like usual.

Night time came, my parents drove me to LAX. We listened to my r&b playlist on the way there. I watched everything out of the car window with the mindset that this is the last time I'm going to see all of these things that I've seen several of hundreds of times since I was three years old.

Am I really ready for this?

I felt somber and forlorn and confused.

We parked in the parking lot at the airport. Already I was feeling what I've been craving, to be the minority in terms of race. It felt scary and uncomfortable, but also thrilling and exhilarating.

My parents walked me into the airport, helped me out with checking in my bags, and getting my ticket.

Then it was time for me to go through security. SO I had to say goodbye.

I hugged my mom and then I hugged my dad, and he held me so tight and for so long, tighter and longer than any other hug I've ever received from him. And he started crying. I cry now as I write this but then I was just so overwhelmed with everything and the line was moving.

Then I really thought, I could leave now. I could stop this now. Am I really ready? Do I really want to do this? This is a big step. A huge step. Moving across the world into a country that doesn't primarily speak English. What am I doing?

But my feet moved on their own. I got on the escalator, waved goodbye to my parents, and went through security.

As I waited in the airport and kept myself busy, I still kept asking myself, Am I ready? Am I ready? Am I ready?

Then I got on the airplane. Got myself situated. Buckled my seatbelt. Waited more.

Am I ready? Am I ready? Am I ready?

The airplane slowly started backing up and make it's way onto the ramp.

Am I ready? Am I ready? Am I ready?

It drove to the edge of drive way and started speeding against it.

I gripped onto the arms of my chair, watching out of the window was the background blurred by faster and faster.

The plane lifted, and my gut dropped, but my heart soared and lighted my entire being and came out of my throat:

"I'm ready."

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rt8815 · 5 years

Text

Bradbury...and Boogie-Woogie

Two years I’ve agonized over this piece. Two. Years. It’s kinda the reason I started writing this story out of order. Anyway, it’s one of those ‘filler’ chapters, I think they’re called. Not a CM Bingo piece, though I’m working on more of those atm.

Triggers: None, I think.

WC: 2,840

Before diving in, first read Let It Bleed, as it immediately precedes this one.

Bradbury…October 27, 2017

“Hey, New Girl! Welcome-welcome!” Garcia squealed happily, rolling a cart onto the sidewalk.

“Hi, Penelope. It’s great to meet you in person,” replied McKinley, lifting plastic containers off the concrete and placing them on the cart.

“You too, Kinley. Oh my gosh, you’re even cuter in the flesh. Love. Your. Hair.”

“Uh, th-thanks,” she stuttered, unsure how to take the compliment or politely ask the bubbly techie not to play with her amethyst locks. Then Garcia moved in for a hug. McKinley stepped back. “No, sorry. I’m kind of weird about hugs.”

“No need to apologize,” she insisted, pushing the dessert-laden cart through the door. Remembering their lively video chat from the other night, McKinley deduced that verbally and physically affectionate was Penelope’s natural state.

McKinley handed her ID to a grumpy man behind the front desk. “If we get to be friends, I’ll warm up to you,” she told Penelope, throwing her visitor’s badge around her neck.

Penelope’s eyes glinted mischievously. “We’ll definitely become friends. I’ve already decided. You’re a smol bean and you’re my baby now, no arguments,” she concluded as entered the elevator.

McKinley giggled. They chatted while the elevator climbed.

“So, you’ve got the hots for our Boy Genius,” Penelope mused aloud.

“What? No! No, it’s not like that.”

“Oh really, now? Doughnuts, cupcakes, a cake, and Season 10 of Doctor Who on Blu-ray, all to apologize because you accidentally grabbed a handful?”

McKinley’s face burned. “Did Agent Alvez tell you that? Son of a bitch!” she fumed, helping Penelope maneuver the cart into the hall.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she reassured her. “These things happen.” Her lips pulled into an inquisitive smirk. “Okay, tell me - what’s he packing? We talkin’ Small Flat Rate Box, or Freight?”

McKinley’s eyes bugged behind her sunglasses. “Sweet Lord, why would you wanna know that?”

Penelope shrugged. “Reid’s always so buttoned up; however, I suspect he’s smuggling something impressive under those corduroys.”

“Yeah well, I’m not comfortable discussing that, so keep suspecting.” They rolled through the glass doors of the bullpen. “And to answer your original question: I don’t have the hots for him,” she stated simply as they came to a stop at Spencer’s desk, “and I’m not looking to date.”

“You guys are perfect for each other, though!” Penelope insisted. “You’re a lot alike. You’re both kind, nerd-funny, super smart, reserved…”

“Ha! Remember that last one when you’ve seen me drunk,” McKinley cautioned, opening the containers to check the decorations.

“Hey, it’s Twist ‘n’ Shout!”

She spun, hands on her hips, electricity crackling in her hair. Luke’s grin slipped at the death glare on her face, his coffee mug hovering midway to its destination. After a pregnant pause, McKinley responded.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one…Mocha Latte. Just know that I bite when I have to.” He raised his coffee-free hand in surrender, inching forward to inspect the desserts.

“Get away, you!” Penelope warned. “These are Spencer’s.”

Luke broke into a lopsided smile. “Oh, because of the ‘short and curlies incident’?”

McKinley thumped his arm with a stack of paper plates.

“Ouch,” he chuckled, no hint of pain in his voice.

“That was for telling people about the…awkwardness. Also, yes, it’s part apology, part ‘let’s be friends.’”

Luke raised a brow. “Friends? You got a free preview of the goods and you’re looking to be just friends?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Yes! He’s a lovely person and…I dunno. When we talked, my heart went all squishy and I knew my life would be greatly lacking without him as my friend.”

“Okay, just remember that opportunity gropes but once, Doc.”

“Alvez, why are you casually discussing sexual misconduct in the middle of the office?” McKinley turned to see a tall brunette woman approaching. She appeared formidable but caring.

“Ah, it’s Dr. Durand! That clears things up,” she laughed, extending a hand to McKinley. “I’m Emily Prentiss, welcome to the BAU.”

McKinley offered a small, awkward wave in return. Emily smiled knowingly.

“How beautiful!” she exclaimed, eyeing the sweet treats. “The attention to detail is remarkable!”

McKinley smiled bashfully. “Thank you so mu- wait, how did you know who I am?”

Emily tore her eyes from the cake. “Well, Penny mentioned your video chat, and Luke jumped in and told us about your encounter with Spencer,” she winked, making a fondling motion with her hand. McKinley’s face flushed yet again.

“Penny spilled about your plan to surprise Spencer, and we got curious. I had her run a background check on you.”

McKinley inhaled sharply, feeling exposed.

“Em!” Penelope squeaked in disapproval. “It’s not like that, love, it’s just- ”

“Spence is like a younger brother to us,” interjected another blonde. “We’re very protective of him. He’s been through a lot, so whenever somebody new enters his life, we’re concerned about their intentions. Jennifer Jareau, by the way. Call me JJ,” she said, not forcing a handshake.

“I understand,” McKinley sighed. “Spencer has that effect on people, doesn’t he?”

She hugged the plates to her chest. “One conversation with him and you realize, ‘He’s a precious cinnamon roll and must be protected at all costs!’ I assure you, that’s my only intention, JJ: to be his friend.”

“Well, that’s certainly a good start,” an older gentleman joined the conversation, pointing at one of the containers. “Chocolate frosted doughnuts with sprinkles are his favorite. It’s a bit clichéd, but there’s truth in the adage ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ It follows; you’ve already had him by the b-”

“Rossi, stop! We’ve made enough jokes at her expense,” scolded a woman who introduced herself as Dr. Tara Lewis. “This looks exquisite. Do I smell coffee in the cake? Reid loves coffee.”

“Yes, and there’s plenty to share as soon as he’s had some. Where is he, anyway?”

Luke pointed outside the Bullpen. “He’s down the hall printing handouts for his seminar next month,” he said, sipping his coffee.

“He doesn’t email them?”

“Reid’s a bit of a technophobe,” explained yet another agent, Matt Simmons.

“He still insists on hard copies of case files,” added Penelope. “It broke his heart when we went totally digital.” She glanced over McKinley’s shoulder and grinned. “Speak of the Luddite devil.”

Everyone watched as Spencer staggered towards them, clutching a thick stack of papers. He stopped short when he saw the crowd milling around his desk.

Spencer smiled, confused. “McKinley? What are you doing here?”

“She comes bearing gifts, Big Brain,” Penelope winked. “Apology gifts.” The others avoided his gaze but couldn’t hide their sniggers. Then Spencer caught Luke’s eye.

“You told!” he grumbled, flinging the papers onto his desk.

“If I give y’all food, will you shut your traps about us touching each other’s fun places?”

“No.”

“Probably not.”

“Nope. Sorry, not sorry.”

“Heh, you’re new here, bean. You’ll learn.”

While they lined up to choose their treats, McKinley leaned closer to Spencer. “When does the hazing end?”

“They’ll get bored soon, but that’s when the pranking starts.” He bent forward to focus on the cake properly. “Ray Bradbury?”

“Yeah, Garcia said Halloween’s your favorite holiday, and I know you’re a voracious reader. I put two and two together and ta-da.”

“Let’s see…the lions are from “The Veldt,” and the flowers are from Dandelion Wine, but what’s this one?” he asked, pointing to a swing set and a sandbox.

“The Playground,” she replied, and they smiled at each other self-consciously.

“McKinley, did you make all of this by hand?” asked JJ, marveling at the miniature sculptures.

“Most of it, except my friend Taylor painted the lions, and the chocolate TARDISes on the cupcakes came from a mold.” She popped open another container, revealing police boxes, each wrapped with a Fourth Doctor’s scarf and set in galaxy frosting. “Oh, and I bought the Jelly Babies online.”

“Would you consider making birthday cakes? My boys would love these.”

“Sure thing,” McKinley agreed, sitting in the chair Spencer brought her.

“Sooo, Reid, what are you gonna do for Kinley?” Garcia interjected.

“She’s right, Spence,” JJ concurred, sneaking an extra cupcake. “You’re not innocent in all this.”

Behind her, Luke held two doughnuts, squeezing them suggestively and mouthing ‘honka-honka.’

McKinley scowled at him. “What’re you, twelve?” Turning to Spencer, she continued. “I’d choose a book or record shop, but you don’t owe me a thing.”

“Oh-oh-oh,” Garcia enthused. “Then after, you could watch Who together at your place. He doesn’t have a TV,” she whisper-yelled.

Shaking her head, McKinley checked her phone. “Sorry, time for me to go.”

“Nooo,” Garcia pouted. “Hang with us!”

“Tempting, but I have to meet friends at some bar named…O’Keeffe’s?”

McKinley swore Garcia’s squeal of delight broke the sound barrier.

“That’s where we’re going! We’re all gonna get smashed on pumpkin-y, fall-themed grownup drinks together! Yes!”

…And Boogie-Woogie

The team kept an eye out for McKinley at O’Keeffe’s and were surprised to hear her shout out to them from the stage. She introduced the team to her bandmates following their final set, which consisted mostly of Tom Petty songs as a memorial of sorts, though McKinley couldn’t resist adding The Rolling Stones’ “Fingerprint File” at the end.

They talked late into the night getting to know each other. McKinley sat transfixed as the team regaled her with stories about their cases, one of which revolved around what they called a Vengeful Cinderella.

“Really? With her stilettos? Yikes!” she grimaced, sipping her drink.

“Yeah, but Spence was able to bring her in quietly by playing into her fantasy, acting as Prince Charming to her Cinderella. Got down on one knee, slipped her shoe back on and everything.”

McKinley threw Spencer an appraising look.

“I can see that working. He fits the bill.”

“He also gave me a new appreciation for the original, unsanitized versions of fairy tales. See, I felt that children ought to be protected from harsh realities, but Spence explained that the tales’ intended purpose was to allow kids to safely confront their fears.”

McKinley cocked her head in thought.

“Actually, the intent of those particular versions was to punish women - through some combination of marriage, rape, bodily mutilation and or death - simply for being women, because the Brothers Grimm were a pair of angry, bitter, he-man woman-hatin’, misogynist prick bastards.”

She took a drink and drew a breath before continuing, waving her hand for emphasis.

“Meanwhile, historian Franz Xaver von Schönwerth traveled around Bavaria, transcribing the stories directly from the very people who’d kept them alive in the oral tradition: servants, peasants, laborers - many of them women - rather than reframing them within his own worldview.”

She breathed in again, oblivious to the team’s stares.

“These fairy tales had strong, independent female protagonists in leadership positions. They were the ones having adventures, slaying dragons and rescuing men! Yes, the stories’ purpose was to help children navigate life’s challenges and prepare them for the adult world,” McKinley clarified, “but not at the expense of women’s agency and autonomy.”

Her gaze shifted to Spencer, whose mouth had dropped slightly.

“Unfortunately, Grimms’ Fairy Tales garnered all the attention. Fast-forward and now we have watered down, artificially flavored, saccharine animated films teaching kids that girls are helpless and need saving, and that the boys who rescue the girls are entitled to them. It’s just one more way the film industry has contributed to toxic masculinity and rape culture. Thanks, Disney, I hate it,” she concluded.

McKinley returned to her drink for a few moments before realizing the booth had fallen silent.

“Oh boy, there are two of them now,” Emily snorted.

McKinley scrunched her face in confusion. “Two what?”

“Spence rambles too,” said JJ, in a tone that conveyed mild annoyance and embarrassment at the behavior, almost as though she were apologizing for him.

McKinley frowned at her. She had seemed nice enough in the Bullpen earlier.

“He’s gotten better about it over the years, though,” she added, patting his shoulder.

The misplaced pride grated on McKinley’s nerves.

“Asphinctersayswhat?” She deliberately slurred her words, downing the last of her drink.

“What?” asked JJ.

“Exactly,” McKinley murmured, eyes fixed on her glass.

Before JJ could ask again, Spencer spoke.

“How had I not heard of Schönwerth before?” he wondered aloud, sounding disappointed in himself.

McKinley perked up. “I can lend you my copy of The Turnip Princess if you’d like. It’s a collection of his work.”

“Yeah, definitely!” he said eagerly. “I’m always excited to learn something new.”

Luke leaned around Matt to join the exchange. “I’ll have to buy a copy myself. I read Grimm’s as a kid but I hate to think I only knew biased versions. Schönwerth’s sound much better.”

…

“I appreciate the ride home, Luke,” McKinley called from the backseat.

“Me too. Just don’t get used to hearing those words pass my gorgeous lips, Newbie.”

“No problem, happy to do it,” he answered, laughing at Garcia’s drunken antics.

Under the cranked-up radio, McKinley addressed Spencer.

“Thanks for your text that morning after the park. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thank you for insisting on the wellness check.” He paused, fiddling with his messenger bag and smiling thoughtfully. “You know what? I’m glad we met.”

“Hey, is this the right place?” asked Luke.

McKinley peered through the window.

“6565, yeah that’s the one,” she confirmed as Luke parked.

Penelope waddled across the driveway.

“I have to see your tiny house - the outside I mean, since I already got a video tour of the inside. Guys, it. is. Adorable,” Penelope gushed.

“I thought you lived with Taylor and Jaimie,” said Spencer, pointing to the porch.

“I’m parked out back,” McKinley explained, unlocking the gate.

Penelope gasped. “I almost forgot! Can we see your baby too?”

“Absolutely! He loves meeting new people.”

Luke closed the gate behind them, carrying McKinley’s guitar. “Wait, what? You have a son?”

“Weeell, sort of…” McKinley twirled around, landing on her knees, arms spread out.

“Boogie, baby! Come to Mamma!” she bellowed.

A multicolored mass of fur burst through the door and made a blurry beeline for her, knocking her fully onto the ground.

“I missed you too, buddy!” she cried as the dog assaulted her face with kisses. Sitting up, McKinley faced him towards the group.

“Look! I brought new friends. Boogie, this is Luke, Penny, and Spencer. Guys, this is Boogie.”

“Boogie?”

“Yes, Mocha Latte, Boogie. Short for Boogie-Woogie, which comes from the Bantu phrase ‘mbuki-mvuki.’ It means ‘to dance wildly, to the point of ecstasy.’ I didn’t have a name picked out when I brought him home, but when I put my music on shuffle, the first song was John Lee Hooker’s “Boogie Chillen’.” He started shaking his butt and tapping his feet. No other name would’ve sufficed.”

He approached Luke, slowly at first, then promptly shoved his snout into the man’s crotch.

“Boogie! Manners! I raised you better than that.”

“That’s okay, I know it’s the dog version of shaking hands.” Luke knelt to give him more attention. “You’re just introducing yourself, aren’t you? Yeah. You probably smell Roxie, huh buddy.”

“You have a furbaby too?”

“Yeah, a Belgian Malinois. What’s Boogie?”

“A Border Aussie. Mom was a working Border Collie and Dad was a show Australian Shepherd. He got Mommy’s smarts and Daddy’s derpiness.”

Penelope bent over to scratch Boogie’s ears, surrendering herself to sniffs and kisses. “If you two don’t have playdates at the park, I’ll dognap them and take them there myself.”

Boogie seemed to wag his assent, shuffling over to Spencer and nosing his hand.

“N-nice doggie,” he stammered, gingerly patting Boogie’s head.

McKinley stood, swaying slightly on her way to the door. “I better grab that book while I’m thinking about it. Keep our guests entertained, buddy.”

They heard her rummaging inside, talking to herself. “You were here just the other - aha!”

She reappeared, waving a tattered paperback. “It’s dog-eared and coffee-stained,” she sighed apologetically, “but it’ll read.”

“Well-worn is high praise for a book. It shows how much it’s been loved,” Spencer reasoned, climbing the stairs to the small porch.

“Take your time with it. Some things aren’t meant for speed-Reiding,” she joked, handing him the book.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a minute.

“The swing set on the cake is an inedible figurine, by the way. That night, sitting on the real swing…I dunno, it seemed to comfort you. Now you have one to keep on your desk.”

McKinley couldn’t decide if ‘impressed’ or ‘perturbed’ better described Spencer’s expression in that moment.

“It’s late, guys. We should head out,” Luke yawned, handing McKinley her guitar.

“Night-night, Lovely! We’re having that knitting bee at my place next weekend, just us.”

“Sounds great, Penny, but I’m nervous about knitting in the round. It’s intimidating.”

They waved their goodbyes as they returned to the gate. “Don’t worry, Auntie Penelope will teach you all she knows.”

McKinley retreated into the warmth of her home. She climbed into bed, beaming to herself.

“A whole new group of friends. Imagine that, Boogie! I’d only dared hope for one…”

—

“There are no faster or firmer friendships than those between people who love the same books.”Irving Stone

@illegalcerebral @dreatine @cynbx

Others let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #oc fics deserve love too

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yodawgiherd · 5 years

Text

Night out

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

I know this chapter is kind of short, but I promise that I will post the continuation of it soon, already got it all figured out. ;)

Enjoy!

Out of all sounds, he could come home to, woman’s scream would not exactly be Eren’s first pick. Confused about the source of the ruckus, he took off his coat and entered the living room, trying to locate and possibly defuse the situation before any furniture suffers the consequences of Mikasa’s wrath. She didn’t get heated often, but when she did, the strength with which she could throw, or smash things was terrifying. He saw her now, sitting on the couch in front of the tv, staring at the screen with murderous intent in her eyes. The cause of her anger could be seen now, as the large screen was carelessly brandishing the “you lose” words, proof of her defeat in the Tekken round she apparently just finished. Slowly, as if he was approaching a dangerous animal, Eren shuffled closer, sitting down next to her and clearing his throat.

“Lost a game huh?”, he asked, prompting her to laugh.

“A game? No. I’ve been losing for the last hour.”, she let out a defeated sigh, putting the controller on the floor and leaning back into the soft couch, “Dropped two ranks already.”

Yikes. From his own experience, Eren knew that losing sucks, especially a number of consecutive games where you get demolished and the opponent hits you with a big fat “EZ” after the match anyway. Dickheads. To comfort his crestfallen girlfriend, he put his arm around her shoulder letting her snuggle closer and leech off his body heat, as she always did. The shirt she was wearing was too big, as it was apparently formerly his, the neckline plunging low and exposing one of her shoulders, and that in combination with the fact that she for some reason wasn’t wearing pants couldn’t offer much warmth in the first place.

“You okay?”

Mikasa shook her head, still too devastated by her losses. And as the caring boyfriend he was, Eren could not let that stand.

“How can I cheer you up baby? Do you want something?”

That offer was finally met with some response, as she looked up, her pouty face looking right into his own, concerned one.

“I’m hungry.”, she stated, “Can we go eat somewhere?”

“Sure, do you know what you want?”

A bit of mischief sneaked into her features, and she shook her head.

“Not really, just someplace nice.”

Ah yes, the eternal question that occurs in every relationship. Where are we going to eat tonight? And it doesn’t matter that she says anything is fine because you know that everything you do, no matter what you pick, your choice will be thoroughly judged by a strict committee of one. And if found wanting, the consequences for the incompetence might be dire ones. Luckily for him, Eren had an ace up his sleeve, gained from an over-a-coffee conversation with Erwin, who pointed out an “amazing, modern and innovative” restaurant that opened recently, with the only drawback being that “it’s quite expensive there.” As money was not really a problem, Eren deemed it proper to use that ace now, while being confronted with the choice of today’s dining establishment, hoping that Mikasa will approve.

“A new place, huh?”, the offer itself at least intrigued er, as she was now chewing on her bottom lip with a thoughtful expression, manifested by her fine raven eyebrows being knitted together, “Did Erwin say what’s special about it?”

“Well, it’s a high-class society meeting place. If we’re lucky, we may run into a mayor there.”

The thought of that amused her.

“High-class? And since when are we high class?”

“We aren’t, but if we put on some fine-looking disguises, I bet that we can sneak in.”

As Mikasa was quite a sucker for adventure, that finally did it for her, and the place Eren picked was judged worthy enough of her presence for the evening. However, as he said, it was kind of a higher-class place, which meant that they actually had to get off the couch and go chance into something more representative. They would probably just stop her at the door if she tried going in her boyfriend’s stolen shirt and panties. Couldn’t forget that she wasn’t even wearing a bra, as she preferred to be free while staying home, both because it felt better and because it teased Eren. Win-win situation, really.

While being forced by society to wear a dress would annoy the teenage Mikasa, the current one didn’t mind it that much anymore. Especially lately with the modeling job, she found herself enjoying the feeling of wearing some elegant stuff, the very thing she used to despise. Maturity is a bitch. Lost in thoughts, she picked a dress and retreated to the bathroom to put some makeup on, again, an activity she was never big fan of, but spending so much time in the hands of professionals lately, she did pick up a thing or two and was secretly quite eager to put them to the test. First, she did her nails, black of course, as if that was ever a question, before moving on to the main part of the test, her own face. With a light hand, she added a few touches here and there, nothing too heavy, bringing out the best features of it. To add a bit of personal flair to it, and also because she knew that Eren liked it, she painted her lips with the usual black color, following it up with a bit heavier eyeshade. While the goth style of makeup was not as popular anymore, as she was told at the agency, Mikasa liked the aesthetic and didn’t see a reason to stop using it just because the majority did. Nothing wrong with being yourself. The dress she picked was dark, obviously and combined with black stiletto heels on her feet Mikasa was ready to go, being stylish while also staying true to herself, an ideal combination.

Leaving the bathroom, she could see that Eren was also dressed in a fitting suit, sitting on the bed and fumbling with his tie. He did look up when she entered, however, following her with his eyes as she crossed the distance to where she kept her modest collection of jewelry.

“You look amazing.”, he commented, making Mikasa smirk as she was putting her earring on.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” looking over her shoulder, she winked at him, “and it will be even better once u finish fixing your tie.”

With a chuckle, he returned to the task at hand, giving her time to pick a choker that went well with the dress, put on the metal cross from Levi and finally decorate her fingers with a few choice rings, fewer and not so massive that she used to wear during her hardcore goth period, but surely a bit more than other ladies would wear. Finished and ready to go, she was a bit surprised to see that Eren still hasn’t beaten his tie problem, frowning down at the unyielding cloth.

“Need a hand?”, she asked, doing her best not to sound too mocking. Just a little bit.

“My pride is telling me no.”, he sighed, “But fuck it. Yes, If you would be so kind, I would appreciate the help.”

Both to get closer and to fluster him a bit, she straddled Eren’s waist, leaning in close to inspect the mess he made. With deft fingers, Mikasa managed to undo the failure of a knot and retie it in the correct way, while he was left to just frown at her dexterity. And he was supposed to be the one with the magic touch. Right.

“So, ready to go?”

With her, he was ready for anything. Grinning, Eren nodded.

“Let’s go.”

The restaurant was truly a higher-class place, manifested by the fact that someone came to park their car, which reminded Mikasa of the time they spent at Tybur’s residence, the ball and everything that followed. That was fun. This time not forgetting to help her out of the car, Eren took gentle hold of her hand as they were ushered in by a well-dressed greeter, having apparently passed the clothing check. Maybe it was Erwin’s doing, or just that they were both quite known in the town, with Eren being the star surgeon and Mikasa’s rising fame in both the worlds of professional sport and modeling, but they were immediately led to a table and attended by a waiter, who wanted to know what the pair will want to drink. Mikasa, who spent half of her life drinking cheap beer or box wine didn’t even recognize any of the names on the wine list, so she hid her face behind it instead, letting Eren handle the mess to the best of his ability. However, he was no expert in the field either, but pointing at something that was named the least funny resulted in having a bottle brought to them, and after that the devilish waiter finally gave them a break, retreating and giving them time to pick their food.

“Ah yes, this is an excellent vintage,”, mimicking to the best of his ability the thing he saw on TV from time to time, Eren poured himself a little, circling it in the glass while nodding to himself, overall looking so snob that Mikasa had a hard time not laughing. Winking at her, he took a sip.

“Is it good?”, she asked when he fell silent.

“Well,”, he cleared his throat, “the flavor is quite fruity, and you can smell the earth from the…”

Mikasa kicked him under the table, giggling into her hand.

“Stop that! I don’t want to laugh this much!”

Returning her smirk, Eren shrugged, finally dropping the act.

“Look, Miki, it's surely wine, and it doesn’t taste bad. That’s about everything I can tell you.”

It really wasn’t half bad, and they made it about halfway into the bottle while looking at the menu, doing their best to pronounce some of the more exotic names and failing miserably, much to their amusement. The fits of laughter drew a few judging looks from the other patrons, but no one came to hush them. After placing their orders, kinda really having no idea what they just asked for, Mikasa took another sip of that arguably good wine, watching Eren over the rim of the glass.

“Babe, I have to ask you something.”

“What’s that?”

“I was doing a photoshoot recently, with the theme of like romantic and stuff, and I and a few other girls got to talking…”

“You are a gossip girl now?”, Eren’s eyebrows shot up, “Never took you for one.”

Just for a good measure, she kicked him under the table again and continued as if he didn’t say anything.

“We talked about our first kiss, and that reminded me, I never asked you who your first kiss was.”

“My first kiss?”, Eren repeated after her, “You want to know who it was?”

It was hard not to roll her eyes at him sometimes, but she made it.

“Obviously.”

“Well, if you want to hear that story, you have to share yours first. Who did you kiss first?”

Must have been the wine, but Mikasa felt her lips curl upwards into a flirtatious smile.

“It might surprise you, but It wasn’t with you.”

Leaning forward on the table, Eren’s green eyes met hers, and he smiled right back.

“Do go on.”

Judging that it was fair, him asking for her confession before giving his own, Mikasa drained her glass and set it back, throat wet enough to tell her story.”

“So…”

#eremika #aot #fanfic #snk

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hyunsracha · 5 years

Text

home — seo changbin

word count: 2.8k

summary: you hated everything about your school. even the stupid galas your best friend forced you to go to.

You hated your school.

You hated the long, winding hallways that led to dull, lifeless classrooms. You hated the grey courtyard, meant to give students a place to be free, but only made you feel more trapped.

More importantly, you hated the people. The teachers, people who didn’t care and only wanted you to pass so you could get out of their face.

And the students. Greedy, monstrous little demons who hold each other’s secrets like playing cards, ready to whip them out and ruin each other’s lives at any given moment.

You could only stand two people at your school, and one of them graduated last year. His name was Bang Chan, and he took you under your wing when you were a freshman, guiding you through the halls in a way that kept the hardwood floors from eating you alive.

And you did the same to Lee Felix the next year. He was a new freshman, and his shaking doe eyes made your heart cry. So you took him under your wing, showing him where to go and where not to go.

Chan made you tough, teaching you to stand up for yourself against the assholes on campus.

Felix made you soft, teaching you compassion and empathy for those other than yourself.

They meant everything to you, and you couldn’t really be bothered to deal with anyone else.

But now Chan was gone, and you were a senior, and Felix was a junior.

You always thought that your grim perspective would tear Felix apart, but two years later, he still glows like the sun.

Even when the two of you are sitting in the basement of the school, a cigarette between your lips as you doodle on your math homework.

“Y/N….are you even listening to me?” Felix whined, his brown eyes somehow still sparking under the shitty yellow lamp lighting.

“No, you know that.” You pulled the cigarette from your lips’ hold, exhaling smoke and raising your eyebrow at your friend.

“I was talking about the gala. They’re doing a super cheesy theme this year: Paris. Fun, right?”

You gagged, “Of course they would do something like that. Sounds awful.”

“But Y/N!,” Felix pouted, “We have to go! We go every year. And it’s my last year with you…”

“D-Don’t give me those eyes...Felix! Fine.” You sighed. Damn Felix and his stupidly pretty eyes.

You checked the time on your phone, a soft curse leaving your lips as you put out your cigarette. You were going to be late, and art was the only class you cared about.

You loved your art class. Your teacher didn’t really care what you drew, exclaiming that, “art is everything! Even your breath is art!” And you liked drawing; it was quite soothing. Plus, the teacher loved you and said that you works were “inspired,” so the ego boost is much appreciated.

You were feeling tired today, so your drawing was simple. Just made of pencil, you drew a bedroom scene. Of course, the bedroom was much nicer than your actual one at your house, and you would much rather be in your art’s room. You sketched a bed, big and warm. You sketched a nightstand, paintings on the walls, a dresser, etc.

Your teacher stood by your side, draping a comforting arm over your shoulders, “Missing home?”

Home. A funny little word. This bedroom you drew wasn’t home, and neither was your bedroom where you lived. You didn’t really have a home.

“Yeah. Just tired today.”

—

Felix was part of Anime Club. He had Anime Club every Tuesday and Thursday, so you spent Tuesday and Thursday afternoons sitting in the back of the classroom the Anime Club kids used, getting a quick power nap. Then you two would walk home together, the sounds of your shoes clacking against the hardwood floors making you even more tired.

“What are you gonna wear to the gala?” Felix asked, the faraway look in his eyes signaling his excitement.

“I dunno...clothes, I guess.”

“Nice clothes, Y/N.”

“Fine. Nice clothes, I guess.”

Felix lived three streets away from you, which you thought was weird because you had never seen him before he was a freshman. Those last three streets were your least favorite to walk through, because they brought you closer and closer to the place you didn’t want to be.

There was nothing wrong with your house. On the outside at least. It was quite pretty; it even had flowers in the front yard. But there was nothing growing on the inside.

The air inside your house was suffocating. Your throat felt clogged as you took your shoes off.

“Y/N.”

“Mom.”

“How was school?”

“Fine. How was work?”

“Fine.”

And you were in your room.

Your mom was never the same after your dad left.

You remember that day like it was yesterday.

You were seven years old. Your mom was out at work, so it was just you and your dad. He had spent the whole day coming in and out of the house, but you didn’t know why. You had been in your room, playing with your toys, so all you heard was the door. Around 3:00, he came into your room and scooped you up into his arms. His tears were wet in your hair.

“Daddy? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” You had asked. He sat down on your bed, setting you on his lap.

“Y/N, you know I love you very much, right?”

You had giggled, “Yes, Daddy! Of course I know that!”

He kissed your forehead before setting you back on the ground, “I’m going out for a bit, okay?”

“Okay!”

And you never saw him again.

When your mom came home at 5:00 to a house without her husband, she had asked you where he went.

When you replied with, “Out,” she broke.

She spent days in her room after that, refusing any of the little snacks you brought her.

When she did finally come out, something had changed. She was much more reserved, and the light had drained from her eyes, almost like she was just a walking corpse.

When you were old enough, she explained to you why she was so sad all the time.

You never had crushes on boys after that.

Her job was hardly enough to keep you two afloat, so you sold a lot of things. Your house was almost bare, only having a couch and a tv on the floor. Your room was like that too, the only furniture being your bed and dresser. When you turned 16, you got a part-time job, and almost all of that money went to paying bills.

You flopped down on your bed, immediately curling under the blankets. You never really bothered with doing your homework. You’d just do it the next day and get an A on it. It was always like that with you.

—

Time passed quickly. Too quickly. Two weeks had already passed and it was time for the gala. You were dressed in the nicest outfit you owned. Felix had come home with you and raided your closet, claiming that you needed his fashion expertise.

“Why don’t you have any nice clothes?”

“Felix I have no money.”

“Well neither-”

“You live in a mansion, shut up.”

But you cleaned up nicely, at least that’s what Felix said. You also had to promise him that you wouldn’t smoke at all that night. He gave you those stupid eyes again, so you agreed.

You thought the gala was even more boring every year. You only went as a freshman because Chan said you needed to have the full experience of New Haven Preparatory School. You didn’t know that meant having to watch all your peers grinding on each other, alcohol and God knows what else in their systems. One thing you didn’t know about prep schools before attending one: the kids were much more rebellious. Something about being so confined made them act out even more. You heard 3 different couples hooking up in the same bathroom when you just wanted to pee.

This year might’ve been the most boring. The way overdone theme made you want to gouge your eyes out. There was a cardboard Eiffel Tower and the lights were hung up to look like stars. If you squinted, it was kind of pretty.

Felix was having a good time though. While you leaned back against the wall, sipping on a punch you were 99% sure was spiked, Felix was living it up on the dance floor. Sometimes you forgot that Felix was a dancer, as he never really talked about it much. But when you saw him dance, you remembered all of the recitals you’ve gone to for him.

You become 100% sure that the punch is spiked when Felix holds out a hand, beckoning you to the dance floor, and you accept. You don’t know if you can dance, but you’re assuming you can’t based on the amused look on your best friend’s face. You two clumsily move to the beat of Top 50 pop songs, giggling whenever one of you trips. You were tipsy, and Felix was just a clumsy guy.

The gym hushes when the doors open, revealing someone you could care less about.

Seo Changbin.

Seo Changbin was practically made of money. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Changbin could literally get away with murder. You assumed that was why everyone liked him so much.

After a moment of gaping silence, the party continued. There was more chatter, mostly from people with huge crushes on the senior.

“God, he’s so hot. Do I look good enough for him to talk to me?”

You just laughed listening to their conversations. Felix must’ve heard them, too, as he rolled his eyes.

You didn’t care about Changbin. He had never been mean to you, but he was never nice to you either. So you just didn’t care.

You cared so little that you merely shrugged when he tapped on your shoulder, taking your hand in his and dragging you away from your best friend.

You cared so little that you couldn’t be bothered to push him away when he pulled you into the janitor’s closet and suddenly had you pressed against a wall. You didn’t push him away when his lips connected with yours, with a fire you weren’t aware his possessed. In fact, you cared so little that you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

You weren’t sure how long you were in that closet, or where your shoes were, or how many hickeys were on your neck, but you didn’t really care. You just went and found Felix, telling him that you were tired and wanted to go back to your house. And Felix walked you back, the knowing smirk never leaving his face, even after he dropped you off.

—

Seo Changbin was a complicated guy, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

People called him a player, and from most angles, he looked like one. But he swore he wasn’t.

But he never really talked about his feelings.

“Dude, you’re a fuckboy. Just deal with it.” His best friend Minho had said when Changbin tried to explain himself. His other friend, Seungmin, nodded from his spot in the corner, where he was reading a manga.

Seungmin was a junior, and sometimes Changbin thought about knocking his teeth out. But Seungmin could pay to get new teeth in a day, so what was the point?

He has tried to knock Minho’s teeth out once. He doesn’t really remember what they were fighting about, but he punched Minho in the mouth and got a beating in return. They’ve agreed to never fight again.

But Changbin swears he isn’t a fuckboy.

Seo Changbin, although rough on the outside, was soft on the inside. All he wanted was someone to fall in love with. Someone to hold at night and someone to make breakfast with and someone to kiss and hug and just…someone to love.

Seo Changbin was a strong believer in fate and soulmates, and believed that you would know who your soulmate was the moment your lips touched theirs.

So he spent his whole high school career trying to find his soulmate. So he’s kissed almost everyone at school. That’s actually how he met Minho...and Seungmin.

It took him four years to find his soulmate. He couldn’t understand the energy that passed through him the moment his lips touched yours. It was like someone had lit a match inside his body and set all his organs on fire in the best way possible. When you left, it was like all of the warmth in the world had been taken away from him, and he was left in the cold.

You were Changbin’s soulmate. He was sure of it.

Now all he had to do was make you his.

—

School had gotten weirder after the gala. Everyone looked at you, which is something they never did.

“Felix,” you whined, back in the basement, “why was everyone staring at me?”

“Oh, I don’t know Y/N, maybe it’s because you hooked up with Seo Changbin in the janitor’s closet.”

“We didn’t hook up! We just kissed for a little. I have self-control, asshole.”

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Your eyes widened as you put out your cigarette, making sure your foot was covering it as the person showed themselves.

“Seo Changbin, fancy seeing you here.” Felix sent a knowing glance your way, not even trying to make his wink secretive.

“I...I just wanted to give this to Y/N.” Changbin pulled out a single rose from behind his back, shoving it into your hand with a shy smile.

“You...you didn’t fall in love with me because of a kiss, did you?” You laughed awkwardly, setting the rose down next to you.

“I did, actually.”

Oh Jesus, you thought.

“Oh Jesus.” you said.

That wasn’t the last you saw of Seo Changbin that day. He walked you to your art class, then he walked you home, with Felix trailing behind. He wasn’t the worst person to talk to, and you actually found yourself laughing at a few of his jokes.

Changbin couldn’t even describe the joy he felt when he heard your laugh.

And this continued for the next few weeks, as the end of winter transitioned into spring. You could predict Changbin’s lines at this point, and it was pretty amusing.

“The flowers are so pretty today.” Felix mused.

“Like Y/N.” You and Changbin said in sync, sending each other sly grins afterwards. You hadn’t really noticed that his hand was holding yours. It happened a lot, and you didn’t mind it. You didn’t care.

You cared so little that you let him kiss your cheek as he left to go to his house.

You cared so little that you blushed when he said, “See you tomorrow, my darling Y/N.”

You cared so little that you walked home in a daze, hardly able to hear Felix’s teasing laugh.

“Mom.” You had said once you entered the house. Your mother jumped, not used to the lightness of your tone.

“Y/N.”

“I love you.”

A smile broke out on her face, the first one you had seen from her in years, “I love you too, my baby.”

And she hugged you, and she cried, and you cried. Your house felt a little bit more like a home, and you thought you should thank Changbin. He was always bright, bringing a new perspective of optimism into your life.

The next day, you decided you would thank him.

You took his hand in yours on your walk home, startling him enough to make him stutter. You watched him as he spoke, and you told him that he looked nice that day. By the time you got to his house, he was a blushing mess.

“B-Bye, Y/N.” He turned around to go to his house, but you stopped him. You wrapped your arms around his torso from behind, trying to pour every ounce of adoration you held for him into this hug. His eyes watered as he placed his hands over yours, immediately understanding what you wanted to tell him. He knew you well enough to not say anything, only turning around and pressing a kiss to your forehead before going home.

Home wasn’t a building. Home wasn’t a person either. To you, home was a feeling. A feeling of comfort and safety. That feeling started following you everywhere, leaving you feeling at home in your own skin.

You still hated your school. The hallways and the classrooms and the courtyard and the teachers and the students. But you still felt at home there, as your home was anywhere you went.

#changbin #seo changbin #stray kids #skz #changbin scenarios #seo changbin scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #changbin imagines #seo changbin imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #changbin x reader #seo changbin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

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thirteen-beaxhes · 5 years

Text

Delayed - Chapter 4: Since We’ve Been Gone

Summary: “All felt like they knew the others were far away, living ideal lives. They kept to their windows and phones for the ride, thinking about the others. They reminisced separately but prayed for the night to go by fast, to get to the places they needed to go. But the night hadn’t even begun yet.” High school ended 6 years ago, and with it, so did the friendship between Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, Jonah, TJ and Amber. But now their flight is delayed and they are stuck in a hotel together for the night. Not much can change in one night, though. Can it?

ALL LINKS IN REBLOG

~~~~~~~~~

Three beers later, TJ had moved from the table where Cyrus had left him to the bar, balancing on the stool and he gulped down the drink. He had texted Amber, asking her where she was, and he had just gotten a waffly response about how she was going back to her room, one she was sharing with another passenger. Great. Even she had company. Super.

As he set down the now empty bottle, TJ called for another beer, not caring about how it would feel in the morning. He knew it would suck, and that his head would feel like utter shit. But he didn’t really care. The bartender flashed him a worried look, but slid another bottle his way. TJ looked around, spotting another person at the bar. A girl, with shoulder length hair and a leather jacket, a whiskey on the rocks in her hand. Picking up his drink, he turned to face her.

“You also drinking the night away? I get that,” he said, taking a swig. The girl turned to him, eyes narrowed, but she cracked a small smile.

“Well, nothing else to do, huh?” she said, and TJ couldn’t help but feel like that voice was familiar. He furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his head slightly.

“You sound familiar,” he said, moving to the bar stool closer to her. She inched away, but narrowed her eyes further.

“Yeah, you too,” she muttered, peering up at him. Suddenly, realisation flooded her face and shoved him in the shoulder.

“Fuck! TJ, is that you?” she exclaimed, smiling.

TJ took a minute to place her, the hair making it harder, but as soon as he did, he laughed in shock, pulling her in for a hug.

“Oh my god, Andi Mack in the flesh,” he said, pulling away, still laughing. “Shit, how are you?”

Andi shrugged. “As good as you’d expect from a person sat at the bar drinking after everyone has gone.”

TJ nodded, holding up his beer slightly. “I feel you. Take it the flight delay was not ideal?”

“Anything but. Not just that, I had some, interesting reunions with people,” she said, taking a long swig of her drink as she stared forward.

“Me too,” TJ said, nodding. “Who did you meet?”

“Buffy and Cyrus. Did not go well. Started good, ended bad. My fault mostly,” she said softly, looking own.

“Fuck, Buffy’s here too?” TJ asked, looking up in surprise as Andi nodded.

Andi narrowed her eyes at him. “Who did you meet? Cuz it seemed like you didn’t know Buffy was here, but you didn’t say anything about…” Andi trailed off, realisation hitting her as TJ looked away and took a big gulp of beer, wincing slightly.

“Cyrus?” TJ said quietly, and Andi sighed.

“Was it the first time since..?”

“Yup. This time though, I actually got a goodbye so, now we know its permanent.”

Silence fell between them as both continued to take sips of their drinks, unsure of what else to say. But, unlike with Buffy and Cyrus, Andi just didn’t care about having to find things to say with TJ. Something in her just told her that TJ too just wanted to be left alone in the silence.

Finally, after a couple minutes, Andi spoke up. “So, how’s Amber doing?”

TJ looked up. “She’s okay. She’s here too, you know?”

At that, Andi perked up, much to her own annoyance because she thought she was done with that. “Oh?” is all she managed, the word coming out high-pitched.

TJ laughed a bit, narrowing his eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her. I thought you were her roommate.”

“She has a roommate?”

“Apparently they didn’t have any free rooms left for this one person, so Amber offered her room.”

“Well, that’s unusual for her,” Andi said, furrowing her eyebrows. “Especially if it’s some random person.”

“I know,” TJ said. “Which is why I assumed it was you when I saw you here. She’s always had a soft spot for you.”

For some reason, that comment made Andi’s cheeks grow warm, a fact she did not appreciate, and she kept her eyes focused on the table as she finished her whiskey. She was beginning to internally debate how to end the conversation because as much as she enjoyed it, she just really wanted to be alone. And reminders of high school were the last thing she needed. Given everything that made up her life. But thankfully, TJ finished his beer and placed his bottle on the table, taking his coat as he stood up.

“Well, I gotta go to my room now,” he said with a tired smile. “It was nice meeting you Andi. God, it’s like Shadyside reunion time, huh?”

Andi just smiled, tipping her glass at him as he walked away. She dropped her smile as soon as he left, gulping down the rest of her drink as she pushed herself away from the table, the room swaying slightly as she dragged herself away from the bar. To the room, and there she would stay.

“So, have you guys decided a date?” Amber said, as she flopped onto the bed. Buffy, who was just pulling her suitcase in, narrowed her eyes in amusement at Amber.

“Date for what?”

Amber groaned, pushing herself up. “For your wedding, you idiot!”

Buffy laughed, sitting on the foot of the extra bed, looking at Amber who was now lying on her stomach, resting her head on her hands as she looked at Buffy with a giddy smile. “Not really, but we’re aiming for late next year.”

“And theme?”

“Hmm, minimalistic.”

“Classic Muffy.”

“What did you say?” Buffy said, narrowing her eyebrows as Amber laughed at her expression.

“You know? Marty and Buffy, Muffy?” Amber said, but Buffy just continued to shake her head in confusion.

“I don’t even wanna know,” she said, laughing.

Amber laughed, feeling her phone buzz with a notification. She picked it up, and as soon as she saw the name, her smile dropped.

Emily.

She quickly put down the phone, and looked up at Buffy, nervously pushing her a strand of hair back. “So, what’s new with work?”

“Are you okay?” Buffy asked quietly, her eyes narrow in worry.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Amber said, looking down, but Buffy grabbed her hand, making her look at her.

“You know that doesn’t work on me,” she said, and Amber gave her a small smile, letting out a long sigh.

“Why are you so good at reading people?”

Buffy shrugged, smiling. “I just am. You’re an open book when something’s bothering you.” She moved over to Amber’s bed, sitting down next to her. Amber kept her eyes trained to the ground, taking a deep breath in.

“A year ago, I met this girl who I worked with at a coffee shop during college. She was a Fine Arts major, and an aspiring painter. She would always turn up to work late because she would be working on something, her jeans and shoes always had huge paint stains. She was kind and smart and funny, and for some reason, she decided that I was someone worth spending time with. Her name’s Emily.” As she finished, Amber’s voice cracked, a fact she disguised by coughing. But Buffy didn’t buy it.

“I take it, all wasn’t perfect eventually?” Buffy asked softly, and Amber nodded quietly.

“I kept feeling like she wanted to be anywhere except with me when we went out. I just thought I was being paranoid. I was blind, and I thought everything would be okay, because I loved her,” Amber said, her voice breaking as she reached up to hastily wipe away her tears. Buffy came close to her side and hugged her, resting her head on Amber’s shoulder.

Amber looked up at the ceiling, releasing a shaky breath before continuing. “Then, a month ago, I get this text from her as I was going back from work.” She pulled her phone to her and opened it, scrolling up to the message and showing Buffy the phone. Buffy pulled it to her, her eyes running over the words, immediately looking up at Amber when she was done.

“Well, that’s lame,” Buffy said, thankfully eliciting a small laugh from Amber. “Over text too?”

Amber nodded sadly, scoffing. “It’s bullshit. Obviously it’s me, it’s always me. Every single relationship I’ve been in, I think it’ll last, but then it doesn’t. Maybe I just don’t deserve it.”

“That’s not true, Amber,” Buffy said, squeezing Amber’s hand, but she pulled away.

“Of course it is, think about it,” she said, her eyes desperate. “From back in high school to now, every single one has just been the same thing. I go too fast, or I get jealous, or I’m just not enough.”

“Okay you listen to me, Kippen,” Buffy said, lifting up Amber’s chin so that she was looking at her. “The Amber we met in high school took no shit from anyone. You were, and still are, an annoying and stubborn pain in the butt. But guess what? That’s you. You are confident in yourself, and you are a strong presence. And if people can’t handle it, it’s their problem!”

Amber looked up at Buffy nervously. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said softly, resting her head back on Amber’s shoulder.

Amber smiled and leaned her head on Buffy’s, sighing. But soon, she looked up again. “She did text me saying maybe we made a mistake.”

“No she did not!” Buffy yelled, and Amber laughed, nodding her head.

“See for yourself,” she said, handing Buffy the phone.

Buffy just shook her head with a laugh, looking at Amber. “Just block her, she’s not worth the trouble.”

Amber laughed, looking down at her phone. It took a while, but after some encouraging from Buffy, she ended up clicking ‘Block’ on Emily’s contact before tossing her phone onto the bed.

“That felt good,” she sighed, putting her arm around Buffy’s shoulder and leaning her head against hers.

“I know,” Buffy said softly, smiling at Amber.

And for that moment, Amber’s heart was just a tinier bit lighter.

Slumping onto the bed, Cyrus opened his phone to find texts from a guy he had gone out with a couple nights ago. He was nice enough, kind, sweet, charming. But, Cyrus couldn’t imagine having anything more serious that what they were, something the other was clearly not up for. Cyrus sighed, shutting off his phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. That encounter with TJ (because ‘encounter’ was the only word he could use to even try and describe it) had been unexpectedly emotionally tense. Although, why was he surprised? Given their story…

Cyrus rolled over to one side, playing over the conversation in his head. The surprise and shock, the brief hit of nostalgia, the bitter annoyance on TJ’s face as he first began to walk away, and finally, the tired defeat. After everything, after 6 years of silence, there it was.

Goodbye.

And now here he was, in his hotel room, alone, running away from people who wanted to get closer to him because the ghost of his first real relationship still haunted him, even though he refused to admit it. He had to face it now. He probably never really got over TJ Kippen.

And that terrified him.

Cyrus smiled wistfully to himself, remembering high school. Dates at the Spoon, holding hands under the lunch table, stealing hidden moments in empty hallways, short handwritten notes pressed into palms while running down the hall to class. He had been in love, there was no doubt about it. That was the first time, but not the last time. But it had been the last time he had acted on his feelings.

Funny, he thought to himself. All the time in school, when Cyrus saw Jonah have issues with commitment to relationships, he never imagined himself ever having that problem. But there he was, desperately starting the getaway car every time someone wanted more.

Cyrus lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He had to let go of the past, of TJ. That was the only way he would ever truly move on. But he shook his head, pulling the cover over himself as he rested his head on the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

He didn’t need to think about it just then. He just needed to sleep, and then get on the flight, and never see him again.

~~~~~~~~~

Sorry this chapter is so short, I was out last week so I didn’t have time to work on it. Hope you like it!

@pixieangelprincess @luzawithoutu @terri-does-gods-work @sxshx-sxshx @tozbier @alittletooliteralleah

HMU if you wanna be tagged in future updates!

#andi mack #my fic #delayed fic #tyrus #muffy #ambi #jandi #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #buffy driscoll #marty from the party #andi #jonah beck #amber brown #amber (andi mack)#fanfiction #fanfic

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yeoldontknow · 6 years

Text

Ephemeral

Author’s Note: WELCOME BACK TO CHANVEMBER!! this fic is based on a story i wrote in a different fandom years ago and i really just wanted to rewrite it and give it to chan. i felt like i could have explained the intensity of affection better so here we are! Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Summary: At the root of your memory loss, there is only one constant thing: him. Genre: angst; romance; au Rating: PG-13 Warnings: dark themes; mention of blood and injury; heavy angst Word Count: 3,497

This is not your bed.

This is not your house.

This man, sleeping soundly, is not your lover.

But they could be. You want them to be. You want him.

You take a hard look at the curve of his ears and the arch of his lips and you try to remember yourself. Try, with every staggered and unstable inhale, to remember your name, your age, your life, but you can’t. You remember the black, you remember the void.

He’s here, so you aren’t scared. He’s here, so you must have been lucky. You must be special.

You must be important.

Behind him is a night stand. A glass half full of water, a bottle of paracetamol, a pack of condoms, some tissues, and a wedding band. A digital clock, the numbers searing 7:02AM, a red and violent display, directly into your retinas. These things belong to him, these things are a part of his whole. You want to know them and touch them, because you want them to belong to you, too. Maybe they do. But there’s a canyon of longing separating you from them, so you turn over and hope that maybe the parts of your whole will be waiting on the other side.

Half eaten biscuits, a mug, a pair of glasses and a flashdrive wait for you. Someone is living a life here. Someone, on this side of the bed, belongs to these things and has left them behind. You touch the mug and don’t feel any recognition. You touch the glasses and scowl, because your vision is fine. The world as you are coming to learn it is not blurry. A life was interrupted here and it does not feel like yours.

You turn back to the person next to you and try the same tactic, touching and touching to learn through your existence. Delicate fingers on your right hand twine through the dark thickness of his hair, and you sigh. It’s soft, it’s familiar and comforting to your fingers, but touching someone can feel like touching anyone else unless you build the chemistry behind the kinetics.

He wakes up and he smiles. He smiles and now you know you’ve finally learned to see the sun.

You want to smile back because he looks pleased, he looks happy, but you can’t because he’s the one with answers and you need him to tell you how to feel.

‘Where am I?’ you ask, because who am I is too heavy for 7:02AM.

It’s happened before. You are not you anymore. There have been infinite versions of yourself, living your life without your permission because you have come last and there will be another to come after you. You don’t belong to you anymore, your brain has betrayed you. It didn’t want to, it didn’t mean to, it just can’t hold you the way it should. Not anymore, and not ever again.

He tells you that you’re broken. He doesn’t say it that way, he uses gentle and beautiful words when he speaks of you, and to you, but that’s how you take it. Because people should always be themselves, perpetually and always, dying only once, rather than living one life as multiple strangers.

He keeps the flashdrive on your nightstand because he’s learned how to cope, he’s learned how to cope with you. He doesn’t even frown or scowl when he says it never helps you remember, only that it keeps your questions at bay until you’ve read through it all.

It’s an odd thing to realize that the sum of a person can be contained on a stick of metal. 32GB is just enough to fit you and suit you and wear you like a second skin. It’s odd, and strange, to read about yourself as though you are fiction. You might as well be, because these things didn’t happen to you. Not this version, at least.

This pain was not yours. That car was not yours. The metal of the Mini Cooper did not wrap itself around you and pull apart your skin to crawl inside your marrow. It’s not you the car kissed, not your blood that it stole, but it has made it so your brain loses itself from time to time. It’s you the car made you lose, it’s you, and every you to come after, that is forced to slowly disappear until there’s no more of you left.

Your past is made of pictures and news articles, hospital bills, and screen captures of surgery invoices signed away by unfamiliar signatures. Your past is made of fourteen scars, one metal screw in the knee, and five haircuts to cover the gash.

You touch the back of your head to feel the skin. There is no scar, no remnant of pulled staples. Your body did the healing before you could tell it how you feel.

‘Where is your ring?’ he asks, as you stare at a wedding photo of him and a woman who looks happy and healthy, and made of things that don’t have time to bleed.

‘You left it in the bathroom again, didn’t you?’

It’s not a question you’re supposed to answer. He’s talking to a ghost of you that you never got to meet or know, and maybe you should have laughed and said yes, or maybe you should have told him not to nitpick, but this isn’t your argument, anymore, so you stay quiet and try to remember when you fell in love.

‘Why did you stay with me?’

You don’t need to know if he loves you, because simply his being here is proof. Big speeches and long confessions about love and devotion seem out of place in this life, because the delivery of a hot cup of tea and a hand to your cheek say more than words ever could. You ask because, even though you’ve forgotten yourself, you remember reality. You know that love alone can’t weather a storm, that love and sex and marriage can fold under the weight of dependency, uncelebrated anniversaries, and childlike frailty.

He takes a sip of his tea, lips rendering it a work of art. ‘Because you asked me to.’

‘Is that enough?’ You sound desperate and worried, because sometimes, most of the time, it isn’t. You don’t question your actions, because even now, even without a history of pretty words, you want to ask him again to stay. You’d manage without him, you know you would, but he was the first thing you saw and something tells you he needs to be the last.

‘Of course it is,’ he says, and he’s firm and deliberate in the pronunciation of the words. ‘I stay because I love you. And believe it or not, every version of you loves me, too.’

A clear response doesn’t form on your tongue, so you take a sip of your tea, awed that this is the first thing, the first object, that feels like home. You don’t remember liking tea, you don’t remember how you take it. But he does. He knows you, all of you, every person you were or could be come.

He stays because you asked; you stay because you’ve written him into your DNA.

You are looking back at yourself in the mirror, in a bathroom whose lighting is hardly more flattering than a yellow camera flash. All this does is tell you what you are, not who you are, and it’s important you hold on to the difference.

You have thick swaths of hair, colour the ghost of something beautiful, a brilliant shade that seems to have dulled. It might have been dye jobs that killed the sheen. Or maybe you forced it into too many styles over the course of your loss and recovery the health of the follicles got redirected to a part of you that needed it more.

Your eyes are tired, so incomprehensibly tired, bags taking root above your cheeks, and your eyes are too alive for your lost mind. Time slips past you as you stare at them, wondering what and who they’ve seen, and why you can’t ask them to share the trapped information that swims in the irises.

You are fragile, you are lost, and you are small. Strength has somehow retreated inside you, rotting from within. Your fingers have fading callouses from a past life that played guitar. The nails on your fingers are bitten by a habit that hasn’t seemed to carry over. Your left forearm has a tattoo that looks like smeared paint. It’s pretty. Once upon a time, you were pretty.

Your lips have been kissed, your skin touched, your body bled, your rib cage broken, and yet you’re still whole and here and new.

It takes a lot of effort to pull yourself away from your reflection, from the anatomy of a body that needs to be remapped. You know you need a shower, so you strip off the underwear you woke up in, reminded now that you don’t know your bra size, and stand naked staring at the shower.

The knobs are a mystery. There’s four, two too many, and none of them are labeled. You wish it were simple. Hot, cold, on/off. Why the extra? Where’s the lift for the plug?

You live here, you remind yourself. You bought this house, you saw your name on the mortgage, on the computer, on the flashdrive. Someone else’s contract, but still yours.

Be an adult, you tell yourself. Where’s your sense of adventure?

You call out his name. You admit defeat.

You’ve had too much adventure for one lifetime.

The brain is a funny thing.

That’s what he likes to say.

‘The brain is a funny thing,’ he says, and he hands you a plate of pasta with meatballs. It’s been five weeks, and still you’re learning the difference between who you are by choice and who you are by genetic make up. ‘You haven’t liked Italian food for about a year. Too much cilantro, is what you said. The first you loved it.’

He’s numbered your phases, as though you are the moon, still calls you by name but was forced to find a way between the you who liked Italian and the you who liked sushi, the one who played piano and the one who played guitar. There’s been six of you in a three year time frame. You are the seventh, and he loves you, through and beyond time, as though you are the first.

You eat with him in silence because the uncertainty has started to burn at the back of your mind once again.

It didn’t take you long to realize that you love him, that you love him beyond dependency and into desperation. You know you love him. This you loves him straight into your core, but he’s had years with different people all wearing the same face and you can’t help but wonder if he’s disappointed with this new model.

And it’s only when he looks at you above the rim of a wine glass, smiling through his eyes because he lives in a state of complete adoration, that you admit this you has a penchant for jealousy and briefly you wonder if this is new. You laugh, because it’s impossible to be jealous of oneself, but a stranger had him when he was new and those experiences, the words that always belonged to you, are forced to belong to someone else.

‘It’s always new with you,’ he says, and he twists his fork into his pasta with an ease that makes you envious. ‘When I say “I love you” to you, it’s different. Always different every time, because you react differently.’

And he laughs at something you do, something that spreads itself somewhere on your face without letting you in on the secret.

‘Like just then,’ he explains. ‘When I told you that I love you, your eyes went wide like you couldn’t believe it was happening. Two months ago, I’d tell you I loved you, and your nose would flare at me because it turned you on so much. More often than not, you’d make me find the nearest room.’

At once, he’s bashful, blooming into something beautiful and you find it hard to breathe.

Images ignite in your brain, all of them intimate and gasping and aching with a yearning that makes your palms sweat, and none of them are memories. You try to remember how three words could rouse the hair on your arms, how three words could start a chain reaction in the base of your spine, but you settle on the fact that it’s not how but who.

You chose a man whose voice carries implication, who promises the world and delivers the sun, and knowing him makes it easier to understand why your past self had so little self-control.

When you look at him, you don’t see shapes. Instead you see how he splits shadows, how light can sit on his face and makes a dark corner seem bright. When you see him, you don’t see lines, because there are no lines, not anymore. Your world has been blurred too many times, and the only constant thing, the only thing clearly defined, is him.

And you can remember exactly when you started to draw him because you’ve bound yourself to the memory like fabric sewn into a quilt. You cling to the memory because it’s how you know that you’re still you and not a copy of a copy of a copy. But it makes sense that you’d want to recreate him, because you’ve had to be remade so many times at least now it almost seems fair.

You’re addicted to the curve of his spine, the length of his nose, the wideness of his eyes, and the jut of his hipbone. The line of his collarbone reminds you to breathe and the veins in his wrist have been kissed by your lips too many times to count. He tells you this is something only you have done, and where it amazes him that there are still so many ways you show your affection it only offers you a possessive sense of pride.

Making him into art lets you spread him across time, makes him last longer than biology will allow him. And maybe, you sometimes think, that’s what makes you draw him with a voracity that borders on obsession. He’s constant and unchanging and permanent, and everything you will never be wrapped in sensuous skin, and no matter how many times you draw him you can’t quite seem to capture the sameness. Every image of him, from your eyes to paper, comes out differently.

Your hand touches his shoulder the same way, but when it draws angle, it always comes out different. Not wrong, not ugly, just different. Your hand and your eyes and your heart are learning him through charcoal and ink, and everyday he comes out different but one thing remains the same.

The beauty never changes. It doesn’t matter how your hand makes him, because it always makes him beautiful.

Two months later, you ask him again if he ever played favourites. You’re in bed together, fully clothed, just touching, and you can’t help but ask because this you is many things but confidence just doesn’t come easily.

‘Why would I have a favourite? How could I have a favourite?’ He kisses your nose in the way that always makes you blush, and he giggles because he did it on purpose just to see the control he has over the flow of your blood.

‘It’s like...the same way I have a favourite piece I’ve done of you, surely you must have a favourite of me.’

He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, and you can’t help but grip his waist just a little tighter as you fall deeper in love with him.

‘It’s not the same thing. I’m not making you, you are making you. Every version, every facet of your personality, comes from here.’ He glides his hand up your back and you shiver just before he taps your temple, whispering. ‘I love what’s in here. I can’t compare you against you because it’s always just you in a different light.’

You decide there’s nothing more to be said, because you trust him and you believe him, and it’s been too long since you’ve held the taste of him on your tongue. So you kiss him the way you always do, soundly and fiercely, because you know it’s so easy to forget and any night with him could be your last.

When you pull back he looks at you in a way that is both foreign and familiar, his duality clawing at your insides just to burn you with adoration like acid.

‘You’re so much more romantic than the others,’ he says, pride itching at his voice and leaning his nose into your neck to breathe you in.

You want to be proud too, so you straighten your back and try not to whisper because it’s easy to be afraid of honesty if the weight of it tips a metaphorical scale you weren’t prepared to confront. But he looks at you like you matter, like you’re the only thing centering his universe, and it provides you more resolve than a will of iron on a battlefield.

‘This version of me woke up next to you,’ you say loudly, because soft cadences make the truth sound insincere. ‘That would make anyone romantic.’

You say it because it’s true, you say it because you need him to hear it and understand the words, and all of its subtext.

You don’t doubt that he does, because he kisses you like it’s his turn to die, and you kiss him back just as violently because losing him is the only thing that makes you remember you are human no matter how many lives make you appear immortal.

You never ask if he was in the car with you when you crashed. There’s an anguish that adorns his features when you talk about the accident that makes you almost abandon the topic of the event altogether. But you’ve been with him for five months, and you feel confident you’re not going anywhere, and the truth is that you deserve to know. You don’t want words written by someone was assigned the coverage, you need words with empathy and sentiment behind them, someone who lived through it because that’s the only way you can remember.

He recites the story like it doesn’t belong to him, the same practiced speech he’d developed from years of answering the same question from the same person, but the way his eyes seem to turn hollow reminds you that this was never just your loss, but his too.

You weren’t speeding. You weren’t drunk. He was home waiting for you, but not really waiting at all, because you shared a life together and still remained your own people. He had friends, and so did you; you came home when you pleased and it didn’t matter to him because you always came back. You never gave him a reason to worry.

He got the call at 3AM, and he was too tired to check the caller ID. He answered on auto-pilot, asking ‘where the fuck’ you were, but the voice on the other end wasn’t yours and suddenly he was too awake for only 90 minutes of sleep.

He doesn’t remember the drive to the hospital or the words the doctor used. He remembers the broken fist he’d managed when he punched the wall and the number of times he threw up in the bathroom because this was not happening.

You tell him to stop talking because he is detaching from you and falling into the memory, and you realize you are lucky. You are special. You never have to remember, and he can never forget.

This house is not yours.

This couch does not belong to you.

But they might.

You know you aren’t alone because you hear footsteps in another room. Your fists clench against the cloth and you crane your neck, trying to see the doorway to...a kitchen? Maybe.

Someone steps out with a mug of tea and places it on the table in front of you.

‘Have a nice nap?’ he asks, and there’s sunshine in his voice. He sits in the chair across from the couch and smiles.

You look down at the table. Charcoal, some paper, an unfinished figure, a mobile phone, half eaten garlic bread. A life was interrupted here. You lift your right hand and inspect your black fingertips. Your life was interrupted here.

You look back at him, heart breaking without your brain understanding why, and he maintains his bright smile.

‘Where am I?’ you ask, because you don’t want to be the one to alarm him. You think that ruining his smile could mean the end of your life, but you don’t know why.

‘It’s ok,’ he says gently. ‘Everything is going to be fine.’

He keeps smiling, and you believe him. You trust him.

Everything will be fine.

He’s here.

Everything is fine.

#chanyeol x reader #exosnet #kpopwonderlandtag #kwriterskollection #prettyboysnetwork #chanyeol fic #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol au #exo scenario #exo au #exo fanfic #park chanyeol

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hymn2000 · 5 years

Text

Where The Darkness Ends - MCU AU fanfic - C1

Story summary: The concept of having a baby has been more of an idea for a long time now. Ideal candidates for a three-person baby, Loki and Tony have finally, after many Peter-based setbacks and challenges, got to the point of being tested. Now, they just have to wait for the results before they can move on to the next stage.

[[Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and so I have twisted fact a little bit to suit some ideals. The reality of 2 dad/1 mum babies born through IVF are more at concept stage, although 2 mum/1 dad babies are a reality which have the legal go-ahead in a number of countries. It’s something which scientists believe will be possible in the future, and it’s been successful in mice. As I understand it, it’s near to being given the go-ahead for human trials. Also, there are cases of people being born with 2 dads, through rare cases of embryo fusion and superfecundation, which is better read off Wikipedia than me trying to summarise it. Just adding this little note in case anyone is interested in 3 person babies]]

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family stuff, mental health stuff, hurt/comfort, hospital/medical stuff, fertility stuff, IVF

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 1 - Picture Yourself

Peter frowned. He stomped into the kitchen.

“I can’t find daddy” he pouted at Tony, who was busy oiling the hinges on the kitchen cupboards. “All his shoes and stuff are here, so he can’t have gone out”

“He’s definitely still in the house” Tony said, shaking the WD-40. “Have you checked the laundry room?”

Peter blinked at him. “We’ve got a laundry room?”

Tony looked at him. “I’m sorry, how long have you lived here? Yes, we’ve got a laundry room”

“Oh” Peter said. “Where is it?”

Tony sighed. “Why don’t you go and explore downstairs for a while and see if you can find it?”

“Ok, ok” Peter said. “See you later”

“See you later, darling”

Peter was surprised to find that one of the doors he’d always assumed was a cupboard actually opened onto a little staircase. He trotted down the stairs, and opened the door on the left.

He was met with quite a decent sized room. Immediately opposite the door was a washing machine and tumble dryer. There was an ironing station - something he’d never seen before - with a type of ironing board folding out from the wall, with a regular iron and a steam iron on a stand beside it. There were empty laundry baskets, a shelf of laundry detergent, and shelves of other cleaning chemicals and supplies, all neatly arranged.

At the other end of the room, there was a little kitchenette with a sink, kettle, and microwave, a stereo, a television, and a large, soft sofa and footstool. This is where Loki was sat.

“Hey, daddy”

“Hello, sweetheart” Loki said, setting his book aside. “What brings you down here?”

“I couldn’t find you, and dad said we have a laundry room so I came to find you. And this. Which is like no laundry room I’ve ever seen” he said, looking at the Elvis clock and all the cute little vintage laundry-themed framed pictures on the walls.

“Ah yes, well, I did try to make it homely. I spend a fair amount of time down here”

“Yeah... Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all” Loki said, standing up and putting the kettle on. “I’m just finishing some washing. Would you like a drink?”

“Um, ok” Peter said, going over to him.

He looked at the mugs Loki had got down from the little cupboard. One of them featured a washing line pattern with little blue clothes on, and the other had ‘laundry today or naked tomorrow’ written on it. It made Peter chuckle.

“Your dad bought that one” Loki said. “He thought it was funny too”

“It is a little” Peter said.

He stood up on his tip-toes, peering at the other mugs on the shelf. One said: ‘laundry and dishes, hugs and kisses’, and the other had a cute picture of sheep on a washing line.

“I love that they’re all washing themed” Peter said. “How many mugs do you own?”

“Oh god, I don’t know. Maybe you could count them for me some time and let me know” Loki said.

He made them both a drink and they sat down on the sofa together.

“Can I ask a really weird question?”

“Nothing has ever stopped you before” Loki said, putting an arm round the boy.

“You know when you went to get tested?”

“Mm” Loki said. “We get the results tomorrow”

“Yeah. But like, when you actually went and did it, wasn’t it like, really awkward? Like, didn’t you basically have to sit in a room and wank?”

“Peter! Your father would wash your mouth out with soap if he heard you using that sort of language” Loki said disapprovingly.

“Sorry, sorry. But like, isn’t that basically what you do? Like, have a w- um... Do that into a little pot?”

“You’ve been watching The Moaning Of Life again, haven’t you?”

“Maybe” Peter shrugged.

“It was a little awkward and tricky, I’ll give you that” Loki said. “It was... Well, there was a bit of pressure and it took longer than I expected. It was quite frustrating. But whatever, we got it done. One of the staff said they all call it the masturbatorium”

Peter snickered.

“Yes, I thought you’d find that amusing. Tony certainly did” Loki shook his head. “It’s a necessary part of the process”

“Three-person babies... It’s kinda incredible, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes, definitely. We won’t be the first to have one, but it still feels like a bit of a statement. We’re eligible, and it means it’ll be biologically both of ours. As soon as we started talking about IVF, and we came across it, we knew it would have to be the three-person way. That’s part of the deal. Three-person or nothing. Our own baby”

“Mm...”

Loki looked at him. “Oh sweetheart. I’m sorry, I worded that very badly. You know that you’re just as much our baby as the IVF baby is going to be”

“I guess so”

Loki put his mug down, and moved Peter’s aside. He held the boys hands.

“Darling, listen to me. I know we’ve been through this before, but let me say it again” Loki said. “Just because the IVF baby is going to be biologically ours, that doesn’t mean it’s a replacement for you, or that you’re any less our son, or that we’ll love the baby more than we love you. It’s just another way of having a child. You’re always going to be our son, and we’ll always love you more than anything else in the universe. You’ll always be our baby”

Peter looked at him, and smiled. “I’m always gonna be your first baby! And anyway, you were my dads way, way, way before the adoption, and there’s no denying that either!”

Loki smiled and hugged him close, pulling him onto his lap. “That’s right, baby. You’re always going to be our little baby Peter. The one and only, Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark”

Peter laughed happily, snuggling into Loki’s chest, wriggling round so he was being cradled properly.

“So, we need to start thinking of baby names now that we’re getting close to the artificial insemination proportion of this whole thing” Peter said. “Are you gonna look at normal nice names, or posh names, or are you gonna be stupid like Jamie Oliver and call it Rainbow or Buddy Bear?”

Loki laughed slightly. “As much as I’m sure we’d get away with it, being the way we are, we’re definitely not doing something like that. No, your father and I have already decided on baby names”

“Oh! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I suppose it never came up before now. We actually decided during and shortly after that whole incident with Kindsprengen’s gun”

“Oh! That’s a while ago now” Peter said. “What are the options?”

“Well, we thought Princess May for a girl, and Oliver Anthony for a boy”

Peter blinked at him. “You’d name a girl after Aunt May?”

Loki nodded. “If that was something you were comfortable with”

Peter nodded, tears pricking his eyes. “That’d be so cute”

Loki kissed him on the nose. “Don’t get all teary-eyed on me, darling”

“It’s so nice, though!” Peter said, wiping his eyes and giggling. “Princess May Stark. It’s a good name! May would be touched if she was here, I just know it... Oliver Anthony Stark is cute too. Oliver is a good name”

“Your father suggested that. He said he liked Oliver for a boy. He wanted to name a boy after me, but I didn’t think Loki made an especially good middle name. So we decided on Anthony as the middle name”

“That’s the names sorted then... It’s starting to feel so real. I can’t believe I’m gonna be a big brother!”

“You’re going to be a wonderful brother, I just know it” Loki said, retrieving their mugs and giving Peter his.

“You know what we’re gonna have to do next?” Peter said, sipping his tea.

“What?”

“The nursery” Peter said. “I know you’ve got a whole bunch of ideas”

“Oh yes” Loki said. “We’re going to do it neutral, I think. Tony and I were talking about it the other day. I wanted to do it pastel pink, and he wanted baby blue, but then we decided, if we don’t know the sex of the baby, it’s best to do it neutral. Most newborn baby stuff is neutral anyway - lots of white and yellow in the clothes and bedding especially”

“Yellow isn’t a great colour”

“Well, it’s not my favourite” Loki said. “But I wasn’t really planning on doing it heavily yellow, and it’s not like it’s bright yellow”

“Were you just thinking of doing everything white then?”

“Perhaps” Loki said. “White furniture, definitely. But we were thinking grey walls. Sort of a light grey, and we wanted some quite traditional artwork. We’ve been expanding the moodboard a little bit”

“Aww, that’s so cute. Can I have a look at it?”

“We’ll see”

Peter pouted. “That means no”

“Don’t you go pouting at me, young man” Loki said. “Now don’t look so put-out: you’re going to be fully involved with the actual decorating. You’ll be wonderful for painting the ceiling, considering your little spider-boy abilities”

“Why would the ceiling need painting?”

“Well, it depends which room we use. But it might be nice to paint some little pictures on the ceiling. Or put up some decals. Clouds or something like that. Something calm”

“Oh, that might be cute. And then we could paint like, a ring of yellow around the light fitting? So it could be like the sun in the middle of the room?”

“That’s a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that. I’d half-considered a yellow light shade, but I prefer your idea”

Peter smiled happily, settling down and slowly drinking the rest of his tea. Loki finished his own drink, moved their mugs aside, and wound his arms round Peter, giving him a squeeze.

“My little boy~. You’re so lovely, you know”

“I know”

Loki lay on the sofa with Peter on his chest for a long time. They talked quietly together, listening to the tick of the clock during the comfortable silences.

There was a little knock on the laundry room door, and Tony cracked the door open.

“Ah, you’ve got him” he said, seeing Peter curled up with Loki. “I’ve finished those bloody squeaking cupboards. Mind if I join you?”

“Please do” Loki said, sitting up so there was room for Tony to sit down.

Tony sat down beside them. He put an arm round Loki’s shoulders and pinched Peter’s cheek.

“You found the laundry room, then”

Peter smiled slightly, but didn’t say anything. Tony stroked his cheek gently with the back of his forefinger, and looked at Loki.

“I didn’t expect you to still be down here”

“Well, I still need to change the washing over”

“Do you want me to take the sprog for a moment so you can?”

“That might be an idea” Loki said, standing up and setting Peter down on Tony’s lap.

Tony cuddled Peter close while Loki went over to the washing machine.

“What have you been up to down here?”

“We’ve just been talking” Peter said.

“Oh. What about?”

“Well, about the baby” Peter said. “You get those results tomorrow, so it won’t be long before... Ten months, eleven months, right? And then I’ll be a big brother”

Tony smiled. “That’s right, kiddo”

“Daddy said I’ll be a good brother”

“Of course you will be” Loki said, sitting back down with them. “You’re kind and loving and good-hearted. You’ll take brilliant care of your little brother or sister - not that you’ll need to. But I know you’ll be wonderful”

“I can just imagine you playing games with your baby brother - or sister - and helping out and just being friends with them. You’re gonna be so good. Are you excited?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, definitely! I’ve kinda got used to tiny babies after all that time I’ve spent at the hospital with daddy and Jo Jo. It’s gonna be so cute having a baby sibling, and we’ve kinda been waiting a long time. Mainly because of me”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. It’s been a rough few years” Tony said. “But whatever, it’s happening now”

“You know they say everything happens for a reason” Loki said. “Maybe this baby wasn’t ready yet”

“But it’s ready now” Tony said. “Well, soon. Just gotta get the results of this flippin’ test, and then we can go for the next bit, and hey, give it nine months, and then there’s gonna be four Stark’s in this household”

“Now now, Tony, my love” Loki said. “You know they have to do the fertility test: it’s just a formality, part of the process”

“Yeah, yeah, I know” Tony sat back, pulling Peter closer and patting his thigh gently.

“Is Pepper still gonna come and stay?” Peter asked.

“Not during the pregnancy. At least, not until the last month or so” Tony said. “We talked about it, and she said she’d much rather just live her life. We’ll do all the appointments together and she’ll come round a lot, obviously. But she doesn’t want to live here for nine months. Can’t say I blame her”

“Yeah, this is a bit of a madhouse” Peter said.

“She’s still coming to stay after the birth” Loki said. “Mainly at our insistence. Still...”

“Wait, I’m confused about something” Peter said. “With, you know, all three of you being biologically this babies parents, that makes Pepper mum, right? Is that gonna make things... complicated?”

“We’ve had literally years to discuss this all. Pepper does want to be involved with the baby, but casually:- she doesn’t really wanna be mother” Tony said. “At least, she doesn’t wanna be called mum, and she doesn’t want to like, have joint custody or custody battles or anything like that. She’s doing this for us. She’s essentially just a surrogate, chick. Well, obviously not just a surrogate: she’s our best friend too. But you know what I mean”

“I know. I think I understand” Peter nodded. “I like Pepper. She’s called me stickie kiddie last time she saw me, though”

Loki laughed slightly. “Well, you were literally on the wall”

“Yeah, that’s kinda fair” Tony said. He sighed. “As much as I love the smell of washing powder and lavender ironing water, I think me and bambino here would be a bit more comfortable upstairs”

“Well, don’t force yourself to stay on my behalf” Loki said.

“Aww, I wanna stay with daddy though!” Peter protested. “This sofas not uncomfortable”

“I can come upstairs if you want me to, sweetie” Loki said. “Dry clothes can stay in the machine when they’re done for longer than wet ones. It’s nothing pressing: I can do the ironing later”

Tony folded out the futon, and the family cuddled down together in a nest of pillows and blankets.

“We’re a happy little trio, aren’t we?” Loki said.

“Soon to be four!” Peter said. “So, what do you want? Boy or girl?”

“I don’t mind” Tony and Loki said in unison.

“Just so long as it’s healthy?” Peter said.

They nodded. “Exactly”

Peter sighed, pulling his rocket and seal closer. He was glad he’d grabbed them.

“You know, when we’ve got an actual baby, are you gonna mind me being a big baby?”

“I wouldn’t have you any other way” Tony said. “You don’t have to change at all. I love you just as you are. We both do”

“You know” Peter said. “I keep finding myself drawn to the baby sections in shops now. Just like, you know, seeing what they have, seeing what we might need or want. All the stuff we’re going to be buying over the next few months”

“You really are excited about all of this, aren’t you?” Tony smiled fondly.

“Well, it’s my baby too, kind of” Peter said. “Your son or daughter, and my brother or sister. We’re just... expanding our family, right?”

“That’s right, darling” Loki said.

“Does having four in the house mean I’m gonna have to share my cupboard in the kitchen?”

Tony laughed, turning onto his side. “Don’t be silly, chick. We’ll just shift everything around and the baby can have its own cupboard. You’re not gonna have to give up anything just because there’s gonna be another kid in the house. We’ve been through this”

“Yeah, I know, I know. I’m still just smoothing it all out in my head”

“You’re a funny little thing, chick” Loki said. “It’ll all work out soon, and we’ll know what we’re doing”

“Exactly. Don’t go getting all silly and worried about it. It’s gonna change things, of course, but it’s not gonna make a difference to your stuff or your room or anything. It’s all gonna be good changes. Aside from sleepless nights”

“You have sleepless nights anyway” Loki said. “All those hours tinkering in the lab”

“Ok, ok, point taken. Bit different though. Anyway, no use worrying about any of it. We’ll sort stuff out over the next few months, and then have a mad panic in the few weeks leading up to the birth” Tony said.

“So, tomorrow, after you get those results, what happens then?”

“Well. We talk. And we decide on a date for the next bit, which is the, uh, well, the-”

“The artificial insemination?” Peter said.

“Yeah, that” Tony said, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “So we talk, decide on a date for that, and then we attend all the checks together, the three of us - that’s me, daddy, and Pepper, not us and you - and we wait for conception. After that, it’s just the usual stuff you do with any other pregnancy. Just with a bit more of a crowded bedside”

Peter nodded, imagining positive tests and ultrasound scans and shopping for baby clothes.

“Are you gonna find out the sex when it gets to that time, or are you gonna wait?”

“I don’t know. I guess that’s something we’ll know nearer the time. It’s a long while off, honey” Tony said.

“Daddy told me about the names you picked” Peter said. “They’re both cute. What if it’s twins? If they’re a boy and a girl, then you get Princess and Oliver. But what if it’s two boys or two girls? Then what? Have you got other names?”

“That’s not really something we’ve thought about” Loki said. “It’s common to have multiple pregnancies with IVF, but it’s not a given, and the clinic said it’s not as common with three-person babies. We don’t need to think about other names unless we end up in that boat”

“I’ll think for you” Peter said. “I’m sure I can come up with some decent names”

“Alright, chick, if you wanna do that, you can do that” Tony said, stroking his hair gently. “You remember what we said, right? About you?”

“Which bit? You mean about me being able to have as much or as little involvement as I want with the baby?”

“Yeah, that bit” Tony said. “This is your family. We’re not gonna shut you out. You deserve to know exactly what’s happening, when it’s happening”

Peter looked at him. “Does this mean I can help choose clothes and stuff?”

“Sure, if you’d like to. We can all go shopping together some time”

“After the conception?”

“Yeah, some time when everything’s kinda set in stone and we know what’s going on and we’ve got a timescale” Tony said.

“There’s some very nice children’s shops I’ve been looking in the windows of in town” Loki said, resting a hand on Peter’s. “You can help us choose. Maybe you can decide on how we decorate the nursery. There’s so many different themes to choose from, and that’s generally what people do, I believe. We’ve already talked about painting”

“It’s gonna be a busy few months. But it’ll be good” Tony rested his head against Peter’s. “I’m really, really looking forward to getting started”

Loki turned onto his side and shifted closer, putting an arm round Peter and holding onto Tony’s elbow. Tony stopped stroking Peter’s hair and instead rested his hand on Loki’s arm.

“My little family” he said. “Can you believe that this time next year, we’re gonna be sitting here with another child under our arms?”

“Two babies” Loki said. “We’ll have two babies. This one” he looked at Peter. “And the IVF baby. Two beautiful children”

“We’ve waited so long. You’ve waited even longer” Tony said. “But it’s happening, Lolly. My love. We’re gonna have a baby! And it’s gonna be great. I just keep thinking, ultrasound scans on the fridge and all the other stuff. I’ve actually got butterflies just thinking about it”

“Me too” Loki said. “I can’t believe how close we are”

Peter watched his parents. He saw how colourful they were. He saw the happy tears in their eyes and the happy, dreamy way they were looking at each other. They’d been waiting for so long. He knew that even if they didn’t blame him, it was definitely due to things that had happened with, to, and because of him that had slowed it down this much. But suddenly that didn’t really matter any more. They’d gone in for the obligatory fertility test, and tomorrow they would glimpse the results, and then plan for the next step. There’d be more appointments, which they’d recount to him, and then, slowly, the house would fill up with baby supplies, a nursery would be decorated, Pepper would get bigger and bigger, and then one day - well, Princess or Oliver would arrive.

“Everything feels all warm and fuzzy” Peter said. “Dads..? Um, when we’re a family of four, I can still have cuddles with you two as just us, can’t I?”

“Oh sweetheart! Of course you can!” Loki said, kissing him firmly on the cheek. “You can still have as many cuddles as you like, same as always”

“We’re not pushing you aside, no matter what” Tony said. “We’ve got enough time and love for two children. You’ll still get every ounce of care then that you get now. And that’s a promise”

“I’ll second that” Loki said. “Besides, do you really think either of us would want to go without our Peter-cuddles? Absolutely not”

Loki sat up and pulled Peter onto his lap, cuddling him close and kissing his cheek. Tony wrapped his arms round both of them and kissed Peter’s cheek too, over and over. Peter giggled and squirmed.

“Dad!” he squeaked, trying to act like he minded. “Stop!”

“Stop being so squeezy and maybe I will” Tony smiled. “I love you so much, kiddo”

“I love you too” Peter said. “But I’d love you even more if you stopped scratching me with your stubble”

Tony laughed. “You’re definitely your father’s son, you know”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it” Peter said, hugging Loki’s arm. He sighed happily.

“We should probably think about eating and sleeping soon” Tony said. “It’s getting on a bit, and we’ve all gotta be up in the morning”

“Aww, do I really have to go to school?” Peter whined. “Can’t I come to the clinic with you?”

“No, chick, you know you can’t” Tony said. “No, you can go to school like a good boy and then we’ll fill you in when you get back”

“Are you gonna pick me up?”

“I can’t see that being a problem” Tony said.

“I’ll come along too” Loki said. “Ok?”

Peter sighed. “Alright, alright. But you’re sure I can’t just pull a sickie?”

Tony laughed and pinched his nose. “Don’t even think about it, kiddo. I’ll take you to school, you’ll go about your daily business, and then we’ll pick you up from school, come back here, and probably have some kinda mini celebration”

“Ooh, can we order a takeaway?”

Tony and Loki smiled at him, and each other, and gave him a squeeze.

“Definitely”

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson

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darkhymns-fic · 5 years

Text

Serving You on Wings

Lloyd has never been to one of these theme cafés that Zelos keeps raving about. But once meeting a waitress with a unique costume that catches his eye, he can't help but want to learn more about these specially-designed wings of hers! (And her, too...)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Sheena Fujibayashi, Zelos Wilder, Alice, Decus Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: For @colloydweek Day 3: Wings. A coffee-shop AU mixed with maid cafes and handcrafted wings! This is around 7k words, I’m sorry, but the idea ran away from me.

More importantly! @frayed-symphony made a lovely fanart of a scene from the fic for this same day! Be sure to check it!

“Dude, this café,” Zelos gestured to the establishment, its curvy lettering on the sign, adorned with sparkles and pictures of cute wings over the name, “is the best café ever. Seriously.”

“Oh, that’s neat.” Lloyd looked over the sign that hung above the shop that was apparently called ‘Wings’. The lettering even seemed to change color when the sun hit it at certain angles, like a cool rainbow effect. “So the food they serve is really good? Like chicken wings?” It was called Wings, after all, so…

“Bud, that’s not the point of these!” Zelos sighed at his friend’s ignorance. “It’s a theme café! You know what those are, right?”

Lloyd stared at the sign, then back at Zelos. “So… the food isn’t good?”

“God damn, Lloyd. You’re not getting it. It’s the presentation here that’s important.”

Lloyd thought about what Zelos said for a good five seconds. “Ohhh, so like the food’s okay, but it looks cool, right?”

“Seriously, you need to stop thinking about your stomach for once in your life.” Zelos gestured again to the cafe, more vehemently this time, as if he was ready to bash Lloyd’s head in through one of the shop windows. “Theme café! You know, decorations, lighting, cute girls in costumes? They’re like angels, waiting hand and foot on you…”

“Costumes? Is it a holiday?”

“...Just-! Just get in here!” Zelos grumpily grabbed his best bud’s arm, shoving him through the door. Lloyd only had time to look through the windows to see people seated at small tables, sipping at drinks, but it didn’t look any different from any other café. The following delicate chime of the door clashed a bit discordantly with them both arguing.

“Gah! Stop pushing me already!” Lloyd shouted.

“Stop rejecting the good things in life!” Zelos countered back.

“Hello! Welcome to the Wings Café!” said someone else entirely. “Where we serve you… on wings!”

Lloyd had managed to get Zelos in a headlock so that the guy could stop pushing him when he finally noticed the person speaking to them. He raised his head, momentarily stunned. A girl with shining blonde hair stood before them in a frilly maid uniform, tinged a light green and a soft white. She even had a cap to match her dress, outfitted with red ribbons, and…

“Oh? Wings?” he said aloud.

He wasn’t talking about the name. A pair of literal wings extended from the girl’s back, dyed pink and all decorated in sparkles! They were so sparkly that some of the glitter drifted from those wings to flutter to the floor whenever the girl shifted a little. She was looking at him curiously ever since his little comment.

“Uh, hi!” Lloyd greeted. Huh, so this was what Zelos meant by cute girls in costumes… A choking sound reminded him about said Zelos was struggling in his grip. “Oh, sorry,” but his apology was half-hearted at best.

“The hell, Lloyd! Were you trying to knock me out?” Zelos complained.

“Wow, you two must be really good friends!” The girl said. “Did you need a table for two?”

“Oh, you’re new here!” Zelos crooned, winking at the girl, not at all mindful to how messy his hair looked now from him and Lloyd’s brief scuffle. “Have I died and gone to heaven now?”

“Oh, I hope not!” the girl helpfully added. “Does that mean you’re sick? I hope you feel better soon!”

That clearly hadn’t been the reaction that Zelos had expected, hesitating on his next pick-up line. Lloyd almost burst out in laughter at the expression on the guy’s face. “I was- I was just saying you looked nice-”

“Don’t listen to him. He says this every time he comes in here, which is already too damn much.”

A black-haired women walked up to the other, holding a platter full of dirty plates and mugs. Well, maybe not walked, she seemed to float to her almost? Which confused Lloyd for a bit. But she had wings on her back, too – smaller ones that were feathery looking and painted white. She made sure to give a wide berth around Zelos as she got ready to leave again, all while glaring daggers at him. “You try any funny business on her, I’m serving you out the door.”

Zelos smiled then, looking instantly right at home. “Heey, Sheena! My favorite maid! Missed you, too!”

Now that Lloyd looked around, it wasn’t just these two girls that had on wings – it looked like all the servers did! Women in serving outfits waited on tables, smiling as bright as the wings they wore behind them. Some wings were pure white, some were rich black, while others went for a multicolor effect. But none of them reached the shade of pink that the greeting girl had.

“Let me show you to your seats!” spoke said girl. She bowed politely, and in the process, nearly slipped. Lloyd reached out reflexively to catch her by the arms.

“Whoa! You okay?” he asked, looking down at the floor. Was it just slippery? Then he noticed the roller skates. Oh, that explained before…

“Ah, sorry! I… messed up, hehe. Thanks.” The girl smiled up at him, her own hands resting against his forearms as he held her. Eventually, she got up on her own and let go, and that was when he caught her nametag on her uniform. Colette, it said. Hm. “A-anyway, let me show you to a table!”

Maybe Zelos had a point about this place.

Lloyd, in his entire life, had never heard of an angel themed café before. Or… a themed anything, actually.

“Man, you are just so sad.” Zelos shook his head at his friend’s misfortunes. “Good thing you have me along to teach you some class!”

“You really gotta though?” He got a closer look at all the people working here, still waiting on people’s tables as their wings fluttered behind them. Some of them even had halos! And then some had like four wings or more which was kind of weird.

He hadn’t seen the girl named Colette ever since she brought them to their table, and then essentially skated away. Or ‘floated away’? That seemed to be the effect of the skates anyway. He kept watching out for her..

“Anyway, what did I tell ya? This is the best place!” Zelos leaned back on his chair, looking intensely proud of himself. “I can tell you like it too!”

“Uh, yeah I guess.”

“So which one would you say is your favorite? I always rank Sheena as the best with that rack, but last time she undercooked my omelet which gave me a stomachache, so I’m bumping her down a few points-”

Lloyd wasn’t listening. He caught sight of Colette again, carrying a platter in her hands, topped with the coffee drinks they ordered. She was still in her skates, looking around in obvious confusion around the café. “Hey! Colette!” He waved, so that Colette could see him. And she did!

Though in her turn, she nearly upended the platter full of drinks, but caught herself just in time, balancing herself shakily on her rolling footwear. She went over to them. “Hello! How did you know my name?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Zelos asked his friend with the deepest of suspicions.

“Oh, your nametag.” It was right there, after all. “I’m Lloyd, by the way!”

“What? Who reads those?” No one answered Zelos still.

Colette smiled back at Lloyd, her eyes bright and cheery as she placed Lloyd’s coffee on the table. “It’s really nice to meet you, Lloyd!” She stood up straight again, her wings catching the sunlight through the windows, shimmering with a myriad of pink shades. “If you want to eat too, we have a special on blueberry pancakes today!”

While food sounded good to Lloyd, he was still really caught up in those wings, eyes drawn to its structure, to its sparkling features, to the very difference of its shape compared to the other maids’ wings. He placed his chin in his hand, so preoccupied with his stare. Actually… “How come yours looks different from everyone’s?”

“Hm?”

“Your wings, I mean.”

Colette craned her head a little to look at her wings, her expression brightening even more at his curiosity. “Oh! Well, most of the others’ wings came with their uniforms. But I decided to make my own! I used this special cardboard for arts and crafts, and tried to come up with my own design! Though… some of the customers complain I used too much glitter…”

“No way, the glitter is really cool! Like, you’re supposed to be this magic angel, yeah? It fits!”

“Ah, you really think so?” Colette’s expression was as radiant as her wings. “Thank you!”

“I- I was just about to say the same thing!” spoke Zelos, who continued being ignored.

“It looks really complicated, too. But it must be a hassle when you need to change your clothes or something. Did you have to make holes in your uniform?”

If anyone even knew that Zelos existed, they might have noticed his look of pure befuddlement on his face.

To Colette, however, such questions made a lot of sense. “It’s actually really easy to put on! Look!” She pointed to a hidden little string that was hanging by the side of her uniform. “I use these to make them flutter, but I can put them away, too! See?” Colette pulled at the string then, and shwip! The wings folded inside themselves, all neatly against her back so that she was just a regular serving girl instead of an angel maid.

“Whoa!” Lloyd was clearly impressed. Her wings had practically vanished! “How’d you come up with that? It must have taken a while to make!”

Zelos remained in the background, frowning as hard as he could. “Dude… you are missing the whole point of this place…”

“I just worked on it a lot!” She pulled at the string once more, revealing her wings in a shower of falling sparkles. Lloyd thought it looked amazing! A customer behind Colette flinched instead, muttering about there being ‘glitter in my soup…’

Colette then raised her head up, looking towards the kitchen. “Oh, sorry I have to go now! I’ll be right back and – ah! Sorry, but did you want anything to eat?”

“Hm… those blueberry pancakes sound really good!” Lloyd said, watching the way her wings seemed to flutter on their own accord.

“Okay! I’ll be right back with your order!” Colette turned instantly, another shower of sparkles getting everywhere in the air at Zelos’ direction. He coughed and sputtered as some of the sparkles got in his throat. “Gah! Oh god there’s so much…”

Lloyd just watched all that glitter dance in the air, trailing after Colette as she skated away. “That’s so cool…”

“Hey, she still has my coffee!” Zelos whined. “Ugh, sorry, bud, but I’m gonna have to rank little miss angel a bit low.”

Zelos was really just background noise to Lloyd at this point. Those wings were so neat! Could he… huh…

“What the hell are you grinning about now?” Zelos said, grumpy that the angel café today was not exactly being the best to him right now.

“Eh, nothing, don’t worry about it,” Lloyd said, sipping at his coffee. Did he order this hot or cold? He couldn’t really remember. Oh well, not like it mattered anyway. He liked both!

“We got a new recruit coming in!”

Colette had only been working at the café for a couple of weeks, and though she had mixed up a few orders and spread her wing’s glitter wherever she went, people were so overwhelmingly fond of her. They could even forgive her tripping over her skates and breaking some tables in the process! Although when that happened, it came out of her paycheck…

So she was instantly curious when she heard she wouldn’t be the only newbie anymore! Sheena’s voice called out as the veteran waitress opened the door to the back, where Colette was putting away all the plates and cups. “Hey, Colette. Think you can help train this guy?”

“Oh?” But she was a bit new herself, and she had dropped so much silverware the past week, too. “Is that really ok-” She stopped, realizing who it was she was going to train. He stood behind Sheena, his face instantly familiar. “Lloyd?”

“Hi, Colette!” Lloyd greeted enthusiastically. He was grinning wide at her, as he did on the day she first met him. He was already wearing a serving uniform, too! A black serving apron over a white long-sleeved shirt, complete with a black bowtie! He wore it well!

She couldn’t help the smile forming on her face. “H-hi! It’s so nice to – wah!” Still carrying one of the plates, the wings she still wore snagged onto a nearby cabinet, offsetting her balance. Oh no, she was going to break something else again…

Arms enveloped her, keeping her steady and safe. “You alright?” She looked up to see Lloyd over her, getting a much better look at his outfit this time.

Sheena, standing behind them both, sighed. “Yeah… that’s one reason why I thought you two should start working together.”

Even though she was a bit embarrassed, she was glad for the boy’s arms around her. “Hehe, yeah… sorry, I keep messing up a lot.”

“Wearing those skates must be really tricky though,” Lloyd said, no blame at all in his tone. He helped her stand, hands remaining steady on her arms. “Well, I can catch you then from now on!”

“Oh? You’d do that?” Colette was a bit overwhelmed by the wealth of information happening. This time, Sheena came to her rescue for that.

“We really don’t get enough guy workers here that don’t just hole themselves up in the kitchen. Think they’re put off by the costumes. So Lloyd here is a lifesaver! It’s actually pretty lucky we already had the right size for his uniform.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to work here that much!” Colette commented.

Lloyd was looking quite excited for his new job, standing tall and proud in his server uniform. “Yeah! Hope that isn’t too weird though.”

“Not at all!” Colette had just been wondering when the nice Lloyd person would come back…

“Well, today’s your first day, so get started!” Sheena announced, already passing them by to leave them to their training. But not before she leaned down to whisper to Colette. “You know, he specifically asked for you.”

“Huh?” Colette wondered aloud, but Sheena had already gone, grabbing up a (non-broken) plate, filled with prepared pastries and drinks, and going outside.

Also, something about what her friend mentioned had made her feel so light, and even more so when she turned back to Lloyd, his smile so bright and his hair so neatly styled and yet a little ruffled looking at the same time.

“That’s really cool that you get to wear your wings all the time,” Lloyd said once they were alone. “Think I can earn mine soon?”

“Oh, you also want…” There were only maids working on the floor, but since Lloyd joined, maybe it would be different? “Wings would look cool on you! But you’d have to make them yourself!”

“Ah, I see… Then I should get started on that right now!”

“Wait, but um, you’re right that you have to earn them!” Her eyes darted to a nearby sink. “So, you’ll have to help me clean these dishes! And not break them!” Well, only she ever broke them anyway…

“Oh, that’s easy!” Lloyd said, rolling up his sleeves. “So this is part of the training?”

Maybe it was? She’d never trained anybody before, and she’d only worked here for a little while… Still, she nodded at him. “Yeah! And you have to do it fast, too!” Why did she feel so competitive suddenly?

But Lloyd only grinned, his eyes bright with eagerness. Their auburn brown matched with his hair, so open and honest. “You got it!”

Also, it was nice what he said before, about being there to catch her. Hopefully they’d work the same shifts for the most part.

“Bud?! I take you to my perfect angel paradise and this is the thanks I get?”

“So… you don’t want the frappucino then?” Lloyd asked Zelos with sincere curiosity, pen and notebook in hand.

Lloyd had only been working for a few days and was already a star server – almost as big a star as Colette, but minus the accidents. Actually, even Colette had minus the accidents herself! Lloyd was true to his word when he said he’d catch her. Customers soon couldn’t separate the pair, watching in awe as Lloyd expertly caught Colette by the waist before a plate full of cakes could tip over. Though, not everyone appreciated this heavenly combo.

“Lloyd, you just don’t fit the theme at all ,” Zelos grumbled.

“Hey, I’m working on it!” True, he kind of stood out among all the angel maids that worked there, one aspect that Zelos had definitely noticed and only grew more and more suspicious of. “Soon you’re going to see how I’ll fit right in here!”

“…Nah, I see how it is. To think, you’re not just some dumb country boy, after all…” Zelos’ expression grew quite serious, his eyes shadowed away from the slanting sunlight through the window. “Getting a job where you get to be surrounded by beautiful girls all day… why didn’t I think of that?”

Lloyd hadn’t exactly heard the last part. Zelos tended to mumble a lot when he tried to look all mysterious like that. “Okay, are you getting the frappucino or what? I have to get back to Colette to help fix up stuff.”

“See? There’s cunning underneath that hick charm! And to think I fell for it!”

Off near the other side of the café behind the counter, Sheena was busy brewing the hot drinks with Colette, and all too clearly hearing at least Zelos’ side of the conversation. “I wasn’t kidding when I said Lloyd was a lifesaver. I don’t think that redhead noticed me once today, thank goodness.”

“Well, they’re friends, so they’re both just catching up maybe!” She didn’t find Zelos to be so bad, just sometimes he laughed a bit too loudly. It always startled her enough to drop her platter, although Lloyd was usually near her to save her (and the orders).

Lloyd finally came back up to them, already moving expertly on his skates, his server apron flowing behind him in his rush. “Sorry! That took a little longer than I meant to…”

Sheena waved away his apology. “Nah, don’t worry. I already got that guy’s order ready in the meantime!”

Colette looked at the plate that Sheena now held in her hands. “Oh! I was wondering why you asked the chef for the octopus sushi.”

“Oh, but…” Lloyd looked at his notepad. “He told me he wanted the caramel frappucino.”

“Trust me, he’ll be happy with this.” Sheena smirked, the feathery wings behind her lilting along with her as she quietly snickered. It didn’t seem all that angelic. “See ya guys later!”

Once Sheena left Colette behind the counter, Lloyd placed his elbows over the wooden surface as he leaned on it, letting out a deep sigh. “Man, it’s really busy today! I could go for coffee myself…”

“Well, I could make you some!” Colette offered. “Oh, but then you would have to pay for it. Sorry.”

“I don’t really get why you’re apologizing… Oh, Colette!” Lloyd raised his head up to her excitedly. “I almost forgot. I got something to show you! You said I needed to earn my wings, right?”

“Huh? Oh! Y-yeah!” Colette felt a bit bad about that now. Lloyd could have worn wings anytime he wanted, but she liked it when they served together, or cleaned up during the closing hours, or even hung out in the back, putting away the plates and silverware. She may have been keeping him to herself a bit much…

“It’s in the back! Come on!” Lloyd was so eager that he even leaped over the counter, with skates and all, already gesturing her towards the door that led to calmer part of the kitchen. There would be no one to take charge of the counter to take up orders… but Lloyd really wanted to show her something! She couldn’t just not follow him, and before she knew it, she dashed after him, the momentum of her skates nearly making her tumble into him (he caught her just in time), and then the edge of her wings catching themselves in the doorway (which he rescued her from that too).

Eventually, they both made it behind the doors, Lloyd picking up something from the side. “I didn’t have to make holes in my shirt luckily…” he said, fitting whatever object on him like a backpack. She didn’t see what it was exactly, but she caught sight of a string hanging by the side of his uniform, jogging a familiar memory. Lloyd stood before her with his hands on his hips, clearly excited.

“Check it out!” He then pulled the handy string by his side. In a burst of azure, long wings suddenly flew up from his back. With them came a flurry of dazzling sparkles, floating through the air all around Colette and Lloyd, like starlight.

Colette gasped in surprise and wonder! “Wow! You made those?” The way the light shone made them seem so translucent, their shape strongly emulating a bird’s wings. But he didn’t stick feathers to his wings like the other servers did. They really were their own thing. “Those are beautiful!”

“Heh, yeah they’re pretty cool, huh?” He turned, and one wingtip edged along the kitchen shelf, knocking down a small pot to the floor with a clang. But it did so through a shower of glitter, so at least when it fell, it looked neat doing so! “Uh, sorry.”

Then it got her curious, all that glitter. “Do you like you using glitter too? I thought I was the only one.”

At that Lloyd grinned wide, once again showing off his equally wide wings. “I was thinking about your wings a lot when I made this! I really wanted to see if I could make something like yours! Though I guess maybe they’re a little too long, hm.” He had to sidle a bit to the right, letting one chef get by him, and not passing by unscathed, remnants of sparkles already on their sleeves.

“Something like mine?” She felt those wings of hers hang onto her uniform, where no amount of washing would ever get rid of those pink glitters that stuck to the material. They would be the same way for Lloyd’s uniform, too. “Are you sure you want something like that? Sometimes the customers complain…”

Lloyd angled his head, blinking. “Do you think I shouldn’t? I can put them away like you though! See?” He pulled at the string again, though only one wing folded back in on itself, the other still staying out. “Um, I can fix that.” Still, he looked to Colette like a happy kid in a candy shop. “I wanted to make it so we can match maybe!”

“We…” she started to say, then grew even happier at the mention once she realized. “Oh! We… we do match!”

“Hehe, yeah, that’s why I wanted to work here in the first place!” Lloyd said.

“Oh, you mean to make these wings for the café?”

“…Ah, yeah! Pretty much, yeah.” Lloyd coughed to the side, then tried pulling his string again, unhooking that one folded wing. “Think we can go out there together then? I think it’s almost lunchtime.”

“Yeah!” His unearthed wing brought forth another array of sparkles, some of them catching onto her uniform, so that it decorated her in sparkling pink and blue. She was happy, more happy than she expected herself to be. Lloyd, in his wings, smiled at her so kindly. She hoped he would stay on, and not get bored of working here… “Let’s go! I think Sheena might be- ah!”

Another trip, and another catch with Lloyd’s arms. His wings fanned out around her, letting her see that before Lloyd’s face as she turned around in his hold. “It’s too bad these wings can’t help you float,” he said, but his smile still kind.

It was strange, because she already felt so light suddenly.

“Hello! Welcome to the Wings Café!”

Genis stared blankly at the angelic duo, who had both simultaneously greeted him barely a second after he walked in. “Wow, I didn’t think Zelos was serious.”

Colette’s wings splayed out behind her in a display of pink brilliance. Her smile matched that same brightness. For the past few days, Colette felt like she was walking on air, like she really was flying high. Lloyd, standing next to her in greeting, was also smiling wide, his own wings spread out before him in several shades of blue and white.

“Genis!” Lloyd said excitedly. “So you know about this place, too? Oh yeah, this is Colette!”

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you!”

Genis also had a certain look, one that he flicked over to Lloyd and then to Colette, the shine of their wings reflecting in his eyes. “Haha, okay, I was wondering why Lloyd actually went out and got a job of all things.”

Still with that server friendly smile, Lloyd sidled up to Genis and gave him a playful tap on the head. “Shut it.”

“Ack! Okay, geez.”

Colette didn’t totally understand what this Genis person meant but she felt happy knowing another friend of Lloyd’s all the same.

“Oh yeah, there’s a free table over here-” Lloyd then turned, his wings swishing along with him. One wing slapped the back of Genis’ head in a flurry of blue sparkles.

“Gah! Lloyd!”

“Oops. Didn’t mean it that time!”

The two had already been fairly popular among the customers before, but with Lloyd’s new addition of his wings, they were a hit. More customers had started flooding the Wings Café lately, curious about the clumsy pink-winged girl that would always be caught by the blue-winged boy beside her. It didn’t matter if sometimes Lloyd and Colette would mess up an order, or accidentally serve an iced coffee instead of hot – it was hard to stay mad at either of them.

Although hearing about the only guy server in the café also brought out some troublemakers, too.

“We’ve been waiting to be served for more than ten minutes already!”

Colette turned towards the far right of the café, blinking at a pair seated. Ah right, it was the couple that had come by earlier while Lloyd had been busy helping someone. She remembered the girl hadn’t looked too happy at her greeting… Also, there was a strange, but very strong smell coming from that section. She noted quite a few tables around the two were empty. “Oh! I’m sorry, I’ll be right there!”

“That’s okay, Colette. I got it!” Lloyd quickly skated past her, his long wings somehow avoiding her, except with a small brush of the wingtip, gentle as he passed. “Colette can help you, Genis!”

“Yeah, I don’t think she’ll knock me out with her wings,” Genis muttered, trying to shake blue glitter from his long hair.

Still, Colette worried a bit. Those customers didn’t have the nicest of expressions. But Lloyd would be okay, and she wouldn’t be too far anyway.

“Decus! Ugh, stop trying to hold my hand and order me my parfait already!”

“Yes, of course! Alice, my dear, I’ll order up every parfait this dinky little café has to offer.”

“Oh, now you’re trying to get me fat? You idiot.”

They talked loud too, just another reason why some of the other customers had pointedly moved their seats further away, some even leaving early. Lloyd wasn’t getting any good vibes from these two (and the guy’s cologne was so strong it nearly stung his eyes), but he’d still give them good service. Colette had taught him that a server needed to always be cheerful for their customers! She also taught him the right way to arrange a fruit platter, and how to give a dog the perfect name… which the last one had nothing to do with the café really, but that was when they had been on their break, watching some leashed dogs pass by the windows. They had been having some left-over coffee from the morning batch, Lloyd thinking it had especially tasted nice that day.

…Anyway, where had he been going with these thoughts? Oh yeah! He had to be a good server! So, holding in his breath to try to withstand that cologne, he rolled towards them.

“Hey, sorry for the wait! What can I get ya?” He put on his smile, and puffed out his chest a little, showing off the wings he was proud of. He had worked on these for a whole night, too! Luckily, he had only fallen asleep standing on his skates once or twice that following day.

The Decus person angled his head towards Lloyd, narrowing his eyes underneath a fringe of dark violet hair. He had on a jacket whose fur collar nearly hid his mouth – but not enough. Lloyd could see his deep frown.

“You can get us our time back! Any longer and my Alice would have died from starvation!”

“Stop calling me fat!” Alice yelled, before turning to Lloyd with a sneer. “Oh, so you’re the new hot server everyone’s raving about? I expected a little more…”

“Is it too warm in here?” Lloyd inquired helpfully. “I guess I can tell them to turn down the heat.”

Alice kept smiling, unkind in all its curves. “Oh, that’s cute.”

This didn’t make Decus happy at all. “Hey buddy, you better keep your eyes off her! Guys like you… thinking you can get anyone at anytime!”

Was this guy a friend of Zelos or something? “Er, okay. You sound kinda hoarse there. Did you need some water first?”

Alice was not just smiling but laughing at this point. “Decus, I’m sure you too could make some crayon drawings of wings if you tried!”

Lloyd wasn’t really liking their tone here… Also, were they making fun of his wings now?

“Those wings are not my style, Alice! I mean, unless you want me to wear them? Do… do you want me to? I’ll wear anything for you!”

“Haha! You’re such a loser, Decus!”

Yeah, he was getting a bad vibe from these two for sure. But he had to keep on smiling! “Hey, so, did you guys want to order something? I’ll get it for you fast!”

Alice turned to him with another of those weird smiles of her own. “Hm, don’t we get a discount though? For making us wait for so long?”

“Um, well, I’d have to ask my manager about that…” But he knew Sheena was busy right now, so...

“Just going to make us wait longer then? What terrible service!” Decus was talking really loudly again, swishing back his ponytail, and with that motion, a waft of his cologne went straight into Lloyd’s face. He had to turn to the side and cough. Okay, that scent was awful.

“And he’s sick, too!” Decus yelled. “I’m calling the health inspector! Don’t you dare get my Alice sick!”

What? “I’m not sick!” he said back, inwardly wincing at his tone. He had only been working here for about a week and was already bringing trouble to the café. Although he was already aware of how bad these guys were… “I’ll get you a discount then. Just let me know what you want.” Usually getting orders didn’t take this long.

Meanwhile, said Alice leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a pout. “I think we should get our drinks for free. Sick on the job, late on getting to our table, and yelling at my boyfriend?” She took out her phone, tapping away at the screen. “If not, I’ll have to leave a bad review on this place…”

Decus turned to her with wide and happy eyes. “B-boyfriend? So that means you-!”

“Oh my god, Decus, shut up.”

Gah, now he was going to lower their star rating too? Lloyd felt helpless, annoyed, and frankly, a little angry. “Okay! I’ll get you stuff for free, just tell me what you want.” Guess he was going to be paying their tab...

Alice thought for an increasingly long time, making Lloyd finding it a bit hard to stay still on his skates. “First, do something fun for us! Do a dance with those wings of yours!”

…Yeah, he was done with this. “No.”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Oh? But you were being such a good servant boy!”

“Look, seriously. You guys need to order something if you’re going to be here.” He didn’t put up a smile anymore, and he hoped this wouldn’t mess up his chances with… “Also, your yelling is disturbing the other customers.” He knew why no one wanted to be near these two.

“Oh? Is that a problem?” Decus was sneering. “We’re not just bothering you, are we?”

“Maybe a little bit!” Lloyd said, losing his cool. Crap.

That was when a hand shot out to grab at him – or at his wing, actually! It nearly made him stumble on his skates, but he was able to keep his balance, if only slightly. “Hey! Let go!”

Decus only tightened his fist, enough to bend the wingtip and warp the shape. “What kind of guy wears these anyway?”

No one was nearby to hear his trouble, everyone already scared away by the cologne. Lloyd’s first instinct was to push the guy away… but he couldn’t do that to a customer. He’d get fired for sure! And if he got fired, then he wouldn’t be able to see-

“Lloyd! Is everything okay?”

At the familiar voice, he turned, finding Colette already skating towards him. She looked worried, her own wings fluttering behind her, even more glitter getting onto the floor. The floorboards were practically painted over with the stuff, reflecting pink and blue. She was rushing though, probably more than they were allowed to…

Also, she was carrying a plate full of drinks and cakes in her hands as she did so.

Lloyd already knew the outcome, but with the guy holding onto his wing, enough to tear the fabric a little, he couldn’t go to Colette to catch her. “Wait! Colette! You’re going to-“

“Ah, whoops!”

The plate flew through the air, the drinks and cakes already past saving, seeming to go in slow-motion. Half of the Wings Café menu were quickly being delivered to the mean couple. At the very least, it got the Decus guy to finally let him go in order to try to save himself… even if it was in vain.

It was kind of a real mess afterwards.

“Agh! Decus, this is all your fault!”

Lloyd had rushed over to Colette, ignoring the fact that both Decus and Alice were trying to get frosting and caramel out of their hair. “You okay?”

Colette craned her head up, smiling with shame. “Ehehe… I messed up.”

The Wings Café never had a banned customer’s list before, but Lloyd felt some sense of relief when he helped post up both Alice and Decus’ pictures on the wall, showcasing other servers on who to never let in again. “Man, I’m really surprised I didn’t get in trouble for this…”

It was closing time right about now, and he and Colette were scheduled to help lock things up, and do any last-minute cleaning. Right now, Colette was quickly sweeping up the floors, free now of crumbs, lint, and a few extra sparkles, even though most sparkles were too impossible to ever get rid of. “When I told the boss about how they hurt your wings, he understood completely! He’s very nice.”

“You know, since I started working here, I don’t think I ever met our boss. You always make him sound like this perfect person…” Could Lloyd hope to be as cool as this mysterious man in charge?

“Oh, Mr. Kratos is very kind!” She came up to him, most of her sweeping now done. “He just has a serious face. He’d look nice in wings too if he wore them, I think.”

Something about that irritated Lloyd just a little. But a quick look at his wings, one of them now twisted at the end, the glitter having been swiped away, made him sigh. “Maybe I should stop wearing these things.”

“Oh… do you not like your wings anymore?” Colette fiddled with the broom handle, looking down. “You worked so hard on them.”

“Yeah, I did… but they keep getting in the way of people, don’t they? And then they can just be messed up easily like this…” He shook his head, looking to the floor, so messy now because of him. “Maybe those two were right though. They just look dumb on me.”

“I… I don’t think that’s true at all!”

Startled by the sudden emotion in Colette’s voice, Lloyd turned back to her. She had moved nearer, her blue eyes glinting with confidence.

“Colette?”

“Lloyd, everyone has been happy ever since you started working here. And people love your wings! We get more and more customers coming by because of you.”

“People come by to see you too!” He argued, but she only continued.

“Your wings really do look great, Lloyd. And…the fact that you wanted to make them because of me, that made me very happy.” Her voice got quiet. “I’ve been so happy since you started working with me.”

With that, the reason why he applied for this job in the first place came back to him in full clarity.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask-” He stepped forward, and felt himself slip, his skates catching on something unseen. Oh right, he was still wearing the skates…

Colette tried to keep him steady, she really did! Her arms reached out to wrap around his waist, but Lloyd was heavier than her, with longer legs that tripped hers. It was difficult keeping control of her own skates, and combined with Lloyd's didn’t make things much easier.

With a clatter, both fell to the floor, a shower of blue and pink floating in the air around them, catching the light of the café’s lamps. He felt a little crunch behind him, his wings suffering another injury today. Ah man...

“I- I’m so sorry, Lloyd! Are you okay?”

A little dazed, but Lloyd recovered, already sitting up. He leaned just a bit on his side, his bulky skates getting in the way of any comfort. “Yeah, it’s okay, I’m fine-” He stopped when he realized her face was near his, looking so concerned, her eyes open with worry.

“You’re really not hurt? I tried to hold on… but I couldn’t. I’m such a klutz. I think I messed up your wings a little too… I’m so sorry.”

In her trip, she had fallen just a bit over him. She began to move away, the glitter getting into her hair, her legs also stretched out awkwardly due to her skates. Through it all, her wings stayed in shape, always seeming to flutter whenever she moved. But there was more to her than that, like the way she held a mug so carefully in both hands, trying to safeguard it from future falls, or how she could tease him back just as easily, though one would never guess at first. The times she stuck her tongue out at him when the soap suds from his dishwashing got into his hair had been numerous, and each one always got him laughing.

The reason why he wanted to be here still resounded in his head.

Before she could completely go, Lloyd reached for her hands. This made her pause, looking at their connection before raising them back to his face.

“Uh,” he started, suddenly drawing a complete blank until... “Hey, uh, did you want to get coffee later?”

Colette was clearly confused by his sudden question, but that didn’t stop her from answering him. “Oh, I can get us some now if you want! I think it might be kinda old after being in the machine all day though.”

“Ah, no, not that!” Lloyd looked again to the ground, the floor a sparkling mess of blue and pink, their own bodies sprawled on it. More glitter that would never come off would be on their uniforms, but that had never bothered him. He still felt her grip in his hands. “I mean, like… somewhere else? Or it can be here, too! But I mean, when we’re not working?”

Colette blinked, framed by her wings still, by her hair, by the uniform that was slightly ruffled. The silence stretched on, making Lloyd drastically rethink his life choices. The urge to move his legs was getting strong, but well, that was hard to do now.

“Sorry, never mind, we don’t need to-”

“Okay.”

Lloyd hesitated. “…Okay, we don’t need to? Or… to the other thing?”

He felt her clasp their hands tighter. Somehow, glitter had gotten on their fingers, too! But Lloyd didn’t mind still. He felt Colette didn’t either. “To the other thing!”

He gripped her hands back, unable to stop smiling, his cheeks aching from the strain. But he didn’t want to stop.

“Um, well alright!” Those were lame words to her acceptance, but his happiness was indescribable now. “So maybe like… after we’re done here?”

Colette nodded her head. “Yeah, of course!” She looked around them, trying to pull her knees in with some slowness. “Um, just gotta figure out how to get up…”

“Oh yeah… well, we got time!” He straightened, hearing the flap of his left wing. It tilted a little, looking forlorn, though still shining bright. “Hm, though I’m going to need to fix up these wings later..”

He felt Colette’s thumb rub against his hand in thought. “Does that mean you’ll still wear them then?”

Lloyd gave her a grin. “Well, yeah. I have to keep these if I’m gonna be staying here, right? Or we wouldn’t match anymore.”

Colette giggled softly, more softer than usual. He liked that. “You’re right! And.. I’ll help, too! If that’s okay.”

At that moment, Lloyd really felt like he was on wings, more than ever before.

Bonus:

The door chimed. Both Lloyd and Colette turned, ready with their smiles. “Hello! Welcome to the Wings-“

“Hold on! Quiet for a sec! The Great Zelos is joining your staff!”

Lloyd kept on smiling, looking so perfectly cheerful. “No you’re not.”

Zelos was taken aback by his best bud’s assurance. “Y-yeah, I am! Look! I even made my own wings!” He pointed behind him at some third-rate cardboard version of what looked like Lloyd and Colette’s wings coming out of his back… kind of. The wings were cut out lazily, the angles all sharp and uneven. It was painted orange, and half of the glitter was already washed off after having not being coated with care.

“Get ready for angel Zelos, serving all the pretty ladies here!”

Colette smiled politely. “Um! Looks… okay!”

One wing fell to the floor in a heap with a loud rip. Zelos blinked at it, a little confused as to how this happened.

In the back, Sheena’s uproarious laughter could be heard.

“Oh, I guess someone told Sheena a really good joke,” Colette thought aloud.

#colloydweek2019 #lloyd irving #colette brunel #tales of symphonia #colloyd #zelos wilder #sheena fujibayashi #fanfiction #one shot #THIS IS REALLY LONG SORRY #i just want colloyd in a coffee shop all the time

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mellicose · 6 years

Text

That Woman Over There - Chapter 19

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: Teen, for some mature themes

Word count: 4680

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

A crash woke Connie from her restless slumber. Alex teetered in the foyer, looking like death warmed over. A wave of sour liquor and marijuana smoke made her eyes water.

“Little Miss Jet Set. Yo,” she said. She bumped into the side table in the hallway, and the ceramic bowl on it wobbled and fell. Connie caught it and put it back on the table. She guided her into the kitchen.

“Hair of the dog?” she said, pointing to the bottle.

Alex’s face crumpled. “Where’s Liv?”

“Sleeping. Where were you?”

She waved the question away and started up the stairs.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alex,” Connie said. “We need to have a talk.”

“We don’t got nothing to talk about,” she said. She tried to open the bedroom door, but it was locked. Connie climbed the stairs and grabbed her hand just as she was going to pound on the door.

“No,” Connie said, giving her a steely look. For the first time, Alex appreciated their difference in height. This was the same women who had scared off two boozehounds from John’s house with a cricket bat and some choice trash talk. Despite the namecalling, she realized in short order than Connie was no posh shortbread that crumbled at the slightest pressure.

Alex deflated. She wasn’t in the mood for a fight. Not after yesterday.

“Yes, we do have plenty to talk about. I dried the tears of not one, but two people last night.”

“John?” she said, squinting at her as she walked her back into the kitchen. “You wearing his clothes now?”

She poured some liquor in a glass. “Sit. Drink. Talk to me.”

Alex looked out the window at John’s house. “You spend the night with him?”

“You reek. Where have you been?”

She collapsed into a chair and drank down the shot. “I took a taxi to my mam’s.” You could smell her five paces out.“She was having one of her little get-togethers,” she said. “Boozing it up with some friends.”

“You left your phone, and Olivia was going crazy trying to reach you,” Connie said.

“I didn’t want to ruin it - from the rain, yanno,” she said. She pointed at the glass. Connie poured.

“It this something you do often?” Connie asked. “Take a breather?”

“Haven’t done it alone in a while,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “But John just ... ran away.”

“Is he the type to run after a difficult conversation?” Connie asked.

“I didn’t think so,” Alex said. She trembled from the liquor. It was a common morning sight for Connie - her mother was often shivering and sour as she gave her cursory inspection of her uniform before she went off to school. “Maybe you should tell me. You’re getting to know him quite well.” She gave her baleful eyes, then put her face in her hands.

“You still paint?” Connie asked, apropos of nothing.

Alex peeked between her fingers at her. She thought she would be offended by her frankness. She was an odd duck.

“Not really.”

“Oh,” Connie said.

“I still get ideas. More and more now, but I’m busy, and my makeshift studio is now Monty’s bedroom.”

“You don’t even have a sketchbook, bullet journal, whatever?”

“Listen, I thought you were gonna tear me a new one about leaving Olivia, or what I confessed to John. I’m crashing hard, so get started or you’ll be ranting at a corpse.”

Connie gave her a look, then stood to make herself some coffee. As she grabbed a cup out of the cabinet, she caught of whiff of John on her skin, and smiled. Surprisingly, Alex didn’t move as she brewed and put sugar and cream into it.

She sat down, sipped, and sighed. It was very good, and the creamy richness only piqued her appetite. She was starving. She wondered what John was making her for breakfast next door-

“Oh my God, fucking say something already,” Alex croaked.

“John did not discuss what you spoke about,” she said calmly, and took another sip. She stared out the kitchen window. The sky outside was graphite with rain clouds.

Alex couldn’t restrain her groan. It wasn’t even important enough to tell Connie? Or … Olivia? So this little interrogation technique had nothing to do with it, then. She didn’t know whether to feel relief or despair.

“Do you have a portfolio?” she said. She crossed her legs. Alex noticed her[John’s] pants were a bit tight on her. They still managed to look good.

“Yeah, portfolio’s in a USB somewhere. Sketchbooks and canvases are at my mam’s gatherin’ dust. Not even she has the heart to throw them out after I told her to get rid of everything after Jo.”

Connie nodded sympathetically. It made her stomach seize, but she was able to keep last night’s excesses down.

“I’ve met a lot of people like you in New York,” Connie said.

Alex pouted. “Eh? What you mean?”

“Wannabe artists, singers, actors. Beautiful, sometimes talented, but they all have something in common.”

“They’ve got no money?” Alex said.

Connie laughed. “We’ve all had that in common,” she said.

Alex snorted. Connie remained calm.

“When I graduated, I had an internship with the virology department of the Red Cross,” she said. “My father was very proud. He imagined I’d eventually get my doctorate, cure the AIDS epidemic, and save the world.”

Alex was confused.

“Instead, I went to Thailand for four months and studied traditional floral oblations in the buddhist temples. Needless to say, he was furious.”

“AIDS? Oblations?” Alex said, rubbing her head. What the bloody hell was she going on about?

“It wasn’t easy. Neither of my parents were happy, so they cut me off with a quickness.”

Alex snorted again. “No more first class for you.”

“Nope. It was coach, buses, and third class on the train for me - when I could afford it. But I wanted to prove to them I had it in me. I swear, I survived on pot noodles and pride then.”

“Good ol’ pot noodles. Ever had em’ with cheese?”

“Sometimes I couldn’t afford cheese,” she said.

Alex looked at her. There were fine lines at the corners of her eyes. She saw a single thread of silver at her temple. She was no silly spoiled girl.

“But what about your da?” she said.

“What about him?” Connie said. “Like I said, he was angry. He thought I was throwing away my potential, and wasting my life. He didn’t want to be any part of it.”

“But what about a … what’s it bloody called ... a trust fund?”

Connie smiled. “That wasn’t really our situation,” she said. “I’m no trust fund baby. My ass was in the wind.”

“I’ll have another drink,” Alex said, reaching for the bottle.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a coffee?” Connie said, grabbing it. “Olivia will be up soon.”

Alex slumped in her chair, but she didn’t fight her. “I suppose. Make it black. No sugar.”

Connie made her coffee and set it in front of her. She slammed it, then hissed at its bitterness.

“What are you getting at?” Alex said. The caffeine hit her system fast.

“What do you really want for your life?” Connie asked. “What are your goals?”

Alex winced as she took another burning sip. “I dunno. Goals? Finish uni, I suppose. Liv will murder me otherwise.”

“That’s it? What happens after you finish school?”

“Work until I die? It’s a bit early to take inventory,” Alex said.

“How about dreams?”

“Ride a rainbow pegacorn to Glastonbury?” she said. Connie laughed with her whole body, like John. And, like John, it was beautiful to see.

Connie wiped her eyes. “That was brilliant. But … really. What are your dreams?”

“Are we on a date or something?” Alex said. “Are you gonna ask me what my favorite things are next?”

“As I just came from someone else’s bed, this date’s already off to a shitty start,” Connie said. “Go on. Tell me.”

That hurt, although she didn’t mean for it to do so. Alex rubbed at her chest.

“I want ... “ she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to teach. I want to do. I want to create, and be an artist.”

“That’s it?” Connie said. Alex rolled her eyes. “Then why aren’t you?”

“I am,” she said, looking down at the condensation rings on the table.

“It doesn’t work that way. In the art world, you are if you do, ie, work. Talent means nothing without work, and lots of it.”

Alex took another searing gulp of coffee.

“You’ve got to push yourself, seek new experience to enrich and inspire you. I once nearly shit myself to death in India,” Connie said.

Alex did a spit take, and nearly choked on her laughter. “Super inspiring. Ha!” Connie wiped her face and smiled.

“Laugh it up if you like. It’s only funny now, since I didn’t die in a ditch, covered in flower petals and poop.”

Alex wiped her mouth. “But how?”

“A friend of mine told me about a picturesque festival in the Kerala region called Onam. They have games, and parades, and a huge banquet-”

“Say no more,” Alex said, still smiling.

“What attracted me to it are the traditional and sometimes elaborate flowerpetal designs called Pookalam. I learned so much, and everyone was so kind and excited about my interest in their celebration.”

“And?” Alex said.

“And, of course, I joined them for their feast. I ate too much. Thing is, the doctor told me later it wasn’t even the food. It was some bad water I had at the hostel. It fucked me up well and proper, I’ll tell you,” she said as Alex burst forth a fresh peal of giggles. “I was in a clinic for a week and a half.”

“Did your da know?”

Connie shrugged. “Nah. The last thing I need to hear when I was at death’s door was I told you so,” she said. “They had a fancy private hospital close by, too. I just couldn’t afford it.”

“Were you scared?” Alex said.

“Yeah. But ... I dunno ... I was young and in love with my life. And I was surrounded by friends. It made recovering easy. But I learned a lesson - only bottled or boiled water. Always.”

Alex snorted. “Noted.”

Connie grabbed the bottle of dark rum and put a splash in her coffee.

“In love with your life,” Alex repeated. She liked the way it sounded. To be in love with what’s happening, taking in new experiences, creating…

“What was the tipping point for you?” she asked.

“How so?” Connie said, sipping her spiked coffee.

“When did all that work pay off?”

She sighed. “Ironically, despite all that travel, it happened at home. A photographer friend of mine was using some of my sculptures as a color study. It was more meant as practice for both of us, honestly. He accidently left a couple of shots in a roll he gave to a newspaper client. They called him, asking about it.”

“And?” Alex said.

“Turns out she was the daughter of a Texas Senator, who was plant crazy - a huge environmentalist in a sea of oil interests. She loved the photos, and insisted I do floral design for a DC fundraiser to further her cause. I confected a rainforest, complete with thick mist and an indoor river, in December. That was that.”

“Indoor fucking river?” Alex said, incredulous.

“Oh yeah. With fish and everything. It was a clusterfuck of crazy, but we did it, goddamnit. We had to have wranglers there from the National Zoo, since we also had animals. Not my idea - but she was dead set on it. You haven’t lived until you have a stare off with a mountain gorilla over the appetizer in your hand.”

“That’s fuckin’ bonkers,” Alex said, slapping her thigh. “I want to do that!”

“Then do it,” Connie said. “You’re too young to not be living the life you want to live. There’s no reason.”

Alex ran her fingers through her tangled blond hair thoughtfully. “But what about Livvie?”

“What about her?”

“I can’t leave her and Monty here while I go off on my fine adventures.”

“You can’t?” Connie said pointedly. “At least those kind of adventures are a step in the right direction.” She waved her hand in front of her face at her ciggie and liquor stink.

Connie was right. She wanted to hate her so fucking bad she could taste it, but she couldn’t. It irritated her. She made it sound so romantic. So easy. But all she had was her paints, some canvas, and a vague idea of the direction she wanted to go.

“But … I don’t know how. I wouldn’t know where to start, even. It’s been so long.”

“Art’s like sex. You never forget how. And everyone has their own taste.”

“Art’s like fucking,” Alex repeated. “I like that. I’m stealing it.”

“I thought you would,” Connie said, and winked. “And you do know exactly where to start.”

“No, I don’t,” Alex said.

Connie pulled something out of her pocket - a small card. She clutched it in her hand.

“I’m gonna give you something I didn’t have,” she said. “But I’m wondering whether you’re ready.”

She stared a Connie’s balled fist. “Ready how?”

“Although it’s fun and I wouldn’t choose any other life, the art world is no motherfucking game. It’s dog eat dog. Are you a boss bitch?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in your hand?”

She opened her fist and looked at the card. “It’s a key. Not even a key … it’s a map to the key.”

“You’re talking in riddles, Rumpelstiltskin. Spit it out. I’ve got a rager of a headache.”

Connie slid the card in front of her. “Fine. It’s a name.” She picked it up and squinted at it. It was exactly as she said. A name, and a London telephone number.

“Who this?” she said.

They both jumped as John yanked open the kitchen door and peeked in.

“Is Olivia up yet-” he went silent when he saw Alex. She jumped up, nearly spilling her coffee. She stuffed the card in her pocket.

“John.” It came out breathless. He gave her an abashed, hurt look that made Connie’s hackles go up, but she remained silent.

He turned to Connie. “Breakfast is ready.” He disappeared. Alex ran out behind him. Connie rose and stared out the kitchen window in curiosity.

🌹🌹🌹

“Hey, mate, where you goin”? She said, chasing after him. He stopped after he crossed the hedge, and she bumped into his back. She had to control the urge to hug him. He turned to face her. He looked so amazing. There was a new warmth and glow exuding from him that made her queasy stomach go away. She didn’t know whether it was her budding feelings … or his.

She looked toward the kitchen window. Connie wasn’t there.

“Why’d you go off running last night?”

His jaw worked, and his normally gentle eyes were hard. He sighed, and walked into his kitchen. It smelled spicy, like egg and pepper. She sneaked a look at the pan. Toast popped up suddenly and made her jump.

“You don’t make me breakfast anymore,” she said.

“You have uni, and a family,” he said. He sat on the butcher block.

“Ye have Uni, and a family,” she mimicked, trying to make him laugh. But he was getting paler and paler with anger. She was a bit lightheaded with liquor and caffeine. She sat down at his small kitchen table.

“Hey, um, is this thing, you know … clean and that?” she said. He gave her an intense look.

She put her hands up. “Sorry. Just checking. So Connie’s wearing your threads now?”

He darted forward to turn the stove off before the eggs dried out.

“I got you those pants she’s wearing. You remember? We got ‘em on that trip to the seaside, but they were too long for me, so I gave them to you. That was fun, even though Olivia got a wicked sunburn,” she snorted with laughter. “I wonder whether those crabs still have the dirty words on their shells. What d’you reckon?”

John frowned, but his eyes shone with tears. He looked at Liv’s kitchen window. Where was Connie? He didn’t dare look at Alex, for fear of what he might say. His throat burned.

“Mam was asking after you, by the way. She sends her love and a backhand slap to your arse,” she said. Her mam had a bit of a crush on him. At first, she found it a bit embarrassing. Now, she understood. Who wouldn’t have a crush on him?

He jumped off the butcher’s block and started to wipe down the counters.

“Calm down, Holly Housewife. The place is spotless,” she said, walking to the sink. She turned on the cold water tap and put her whole head in the spray. The cold helped with the hangover. She squeezed the water out of her hair and gave him a pointed look. “Could I get a towel, bruv?”

He handed her a kitchen towel and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. She noticed the blood red beads on his wrist.

“Connie gifting expensive jewelry to you? How avant garde,” she said. He tucked his hands in his armpits and said nothing.

“Are we ever gonna talk about what the hell happened last night?” she said, fluffing her hair. “I’m fresh out of small talk.”

He remained quiet. His stillness was extremely unnerving.

“Jesus, man, say something!” she raised her voice with frustration.

“Saying something is precisely the thing I’m trying to avoid right now,” he said.

She dropped the towel. “Don’t do this. You have no idea how completely gutted I was when you just-”

“You were gutted?” he said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“It wasn’t something that came from the blue, okay? Please don’t think that. It’s been on my mind for weeks. And the feeling? Months, maybe,” she shook her head.

“Months,” he said softly.

“This is all very new to me. Seeing a man this way. Seeing … you this way. Forgive me if I can’t express myself good enough.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned. “I …”

She touched his wrist. She despised the fact the he refused eye contact. Now, more than ever, she needed to look in his eyes. Anger made her muscles tight. How many times had he chased meaningful eye contact in the last year? And each time she had laughed it off. She wanted to slap herself on her own stupid twat mouth.

“I ran because I didn’t want to say something in anger that I would later regret,” he said.

“Anger? Why?”

He closed his eyes. “Really, Alex? I know you sometimes miss a social cue or ten, but...”

She squeezed his wrist. “Speak.”

“Do you really think I can just turn my heart on and off at your convenience like that? That I’d just jump at the opportunity to break Olivia’s heart, and ruin my relationship with Monty to play house with you? That we could just start dating now, even though I live right next door to them both, and pretend like it isn’t the most horrific thing anyone could ever do to a friend? Is that what you’ve been thinking for the last … months, according to you?”

“We were lovers before,” she said, looking down at her bare feet. Grass stuck to the damp between her toes.

He leaned in. “We were not lovers. Not ever. We are friends who made a huge mistake, and paid dearly for it. There’s a difference,” he whispered.

“So Jo was a mistake?” Alex said. Her voice wavered with emotion.

“No, she a surprise. But, at the same time,“ he ruffled his hair nervously with both hands, ”it was a stupid, selfish, callous thing.”

“It didn’t feel like friendship. The way you touched me...” Her face was red, but she had to get it out. “It was something new. And beautiful.”

“I was really drunk,” he said, his voice high with emotion.

“So was I,” she said. “But I remember everything. Every caress. I’ve never been touched like that before.”

Sweat beaded his brow. He was getting queasy again. Resentment made him want to yell, but he controlled himself.

“Of course not. I’m not a woman.”

“Do you think I’m a complete asshole?” Alex snapped. “Duh. That’s not it.”

He bit his lower lip. Why did this feel like déjà vu? He was getting a headache.

“It was different, but not in the obvious sense. It was- you were gentle. It made my heart ache. I never thought-”

“It was one night,” he said tensely. He didn’t feel comfortable having this conversation with Connie just 50 feet away, waiting on the breakfast he promised her. He wanted her, and he wanted this conversation to be over already. His lower lip trembled.

“It was enough,” Alex said. “I thought sex with a bloke would be all sweaty and smelly and bristly and weird, but it wasn’t. Well, a bit bristly since you had the beard, but not all the other stuff. You're a bloody fantastic kisser. Gorgeous, actually. You big dork.”

“Are you done?” John said after a moment. His voice cracked.

She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But I thought once I did, I could give you some time to think and we could make a decision.”

“Just like that. ‘Make a decision’. Ride off into the sunset, perhaps?”

“On a rainbow pegacorn,” she said softly. He gave her a perplexed look.

“Is this all a game to you?” he said.

“No,” she said. “I’m dead serious.”

“And you’ve said your piece?” he said.

“Yeah.”

He sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his arms. The soft shh shh of palm against skin made her wistful. She wanted to touch.

“Al,” he shook his head. “I cherish my friendship with you and Olivia-”

“Can you stop mentioning her, for fuck’s sake? This ain’t about her.”

His eyebrow rose. “But it effects her intimately, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t care so much before, did you?”

“Things change,” he said. She hated the look on his face. And his rigid body language. The corners of his eyes were seamed with lines. Why did everyone around her look so much older all of a sudden?

“What’s changed from last week to this week? Only one thing. Why don’t you just sack up and say it. It’s Connie.”

“It’s not about her,” he said again.

“I’ll be fucked if it’s not. But she’s leaving in less than 24 hours. Then things can get back to normal.”

“To getting drunk with your mam, barely skating by at uni, and chicken on Sunday, like you said? D’you actually think things could get back to the way they were after this?”

“I was hoping they’d be better for both of us,” Alex said.

“For both of us,” he said, rubbing his face. He needed a shave. “But fuck the rest of humanity.”

She shrugged. “No one else matters.”

He shook his head. “This … it’s not right.”

“I’m sorry that I kept it from you. But again, I didn’t know what was going on in my head, and I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

“Monty’s birthday is a month and a half off and now’s the time to make your big confession?”

“Better now than later. The timeline got fucked up,” she said. He knew she spoke about Connie. And she was right. It gave him the strength to speak.

“I don’t need time to think, Alex.”

“And?” she said, looking at him.

“We are friends.Things got confusing for a bit, but I’m not confused about how I feel about you now.”

She waited for him to finish his thought. Her future hung in the balance. Her eyes burned, but she was resolved not to cry like a spoiled quim, although she ached to do it. This situation was already fucked enough.

“I’ll always be there for you, and for Olivia, and Monty. You’re like family to me.”

“Family,” she said. Two tears chased their way down her right cheek. “Like, I’m a sister to you?”

“No. But we won’t be lovers. We can’t.”

“Can’t? Why, if it’s what we both want?”

“Wanted, once. But not anymore.”

“So, if Connie never-”

“It would’ve been this way even if I’d never met her,” he said. And he actually believed himself. It was true.

“Horseshit!” Alex said.

“I would never lie to you,” he said, looking at his hands. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

“Humping a baby into me might’ve done it, yeah,” she said, standing up.

“I will always love Jo,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t bring her up.”

“I’ll bring her up all I fucking want,” she said. “I still have the stretch marks, and the empty space in my heart that feels like it’s never gonna go away.” She burst into tears. “Shit!” She pounded his fist on his counter. He got up and tried to hug her. She slapped his face hard. “Fuck off.”

He was taken aback by her violence, but he persisted. She slumped against him almost immediately. She punched his chest softly, then let him put his arms around her. Again, he pressed his lips in the damp hair at the top of her head. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sniffled in his chest.

“What am I gonna do, John?” she said.

“You’ll have to figure that out on your own. But I promise I will not say anything. To anyone. If and when you want to share, you can.”

“How noble of you,” she said.

He squeezed once more and let go. “I think you need to go home and get some rest.”

“Do I tell Connie to come back now?” she said sarcastically.

“Please. Breakfast is getting cold.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “I’ll get on it.” It took everything to keep from crumpling into sobs again. But she had hope that just as soon as Connie was gone, things might shift in her favor.

“Until later.”

🌹🌹🌹

She ran across the yard and slammed into the kitchen, where Olivia was eating breakfast.

“Morning,” she said. Her face was impassive, and still blotchy with sleep.

“Morning,” Alex said, suddenly awkward. “I need a bath. Desperately.”

“You do,” she said as she stirred Monty’s breakfast. Monty squealed and reached out for her. Seeing the little one made her want to burst into fresh tears. She loved him so much it hurt. What the everloving fuck was she doing? Her stomach lurched.

She groaned and made herself another cup of coffee - she was plenty exhausted, but she had class in two hours. There was no time for sleep.

The hairs on her arms stood on end. She couldn’t begin deconstructing the last 12 hours to Olivia. She brushed by her side as she grabbed Monty’s special spoon.

“Where were you?” she said. She sounded exhausted.

“Where’s Connie?” Alex was surprised she didn’t fill Olivia in on their conversation.

“I don’t know. She borrowed the keys to my car and left about 5 minutes ago. Said she needed some air-”

Alex ran outside, and the car was gone from the driveway.

“Fuck!” She needed the car to get to class. If she had to take the bus, she’d lose her shit. A woman walking by with her dog gave her a dirty look. Alex stuck out her tongue.

She ran to John’s kitchen window and rapped on it.

“Yeah?” he said.

“She’s gone, mate. Took Olivia’s car and went off to get some air,” she said, doing air quotes.

“Fuck!” he said. Could she have heard their conversation? He didn’t see her anywhere when he looked out the window earlier. “Fuck,” he said again, but it was not an exclamation. The last hour had exhausted him beyond those. He grabbed his phone and his keys and bolted out the door.

Next Chapter

#that woman over there #you me and him #David Tennant #fan fiction #alex's confession #she lights matches just to swallow the flame

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