#just picturing coming home and everything is clean and tidy and he’s already got wine out for the two of us

[1111-sunset-circle]

coming home to see your f/o has done a bunch of tasks for you around the house! cleaning, cooking, laundry, taking care of any pets you may have, and the like.

the place looks spotless and they’re so glad to have been able to do something nice/helpful for you (especially while you thank them as much as you possibly can).

[imagineyourworld]

Misunderstanding

Echo x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: After the war Echo runs into you and Rex, who he mistakes for your husband and the father of your children 

Warnings: Mention of death and war

Check out more of my work here

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The moment Echo saw you a thousand memories came rushing back: Your soft hands on his cheek. Your lips on his lips. Your lips on his skin. How your skin tasted under his lips. Your careless laughter as he carried you home after one too many drinks. That time you showed him how to brew the perfect cup of calming tea. The way you said his name and how your voice sounded when you told him you loved him. The happy smile when the two of you reunited after his supposed death. And the sad smile when you told him that you couldn’t go with him.  That had been almost three years ago now. At first both of you had made an effort to talk every day, then, as the war got busier, every other day until it was every week, once a month and then, a little more than two years ago, the two of you had said your last goodbyes.  But now here you were, looking not a day older, and even more beautiful, than the last time Echo had seen you.  He took a moment to just look at you. Your hair was a bit shorter, maybe a shade of two darker as well, and your style had changed. During your relationship he had mostly seen you in your scrubs at work or sweats at home, now you looked more comfortable in your clothes, more like yourself.  Too late, only after he had already called your name and you had turned around, did Echo notice that you were holding the hand of a little girl. Her curious eyes looked him up and down before turning to you. She said something Echo couldn’t hear, but he did see the smile that lit up your face as you walked closer, pulling the girl along with you.  “Echo, I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”, you asked.  You still said his name the same way, your smile was the same and your eyes lit up like they always did when you looked at him, but all Echo could focus on was the little girl, who was staring at him. Was she yours? The daughter you had with someone else? Someone who had replaced Echo in your heart? He should have known this would happen, it had to eventually, but that didn’t help the pain, not when Echo himself had thought of you ever day for the past three years, when he never stopped loving you.  “I... I decided that it might be time for me to settle, and since most of my brothers have made their lives here on Coruscant I thought I would do the same.”  Echo didn’t add that there had also been the small hope that you might still be living on Coruscant.  “So you’re gonna stay here? That’s amazing, we’ll have to catch up some time soon”, you said, the smile on your face growing with every word. Echo just nodded. What else was he supposed to say? Luckily he didn’t have to say anything else, because the girl took the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation.  “Who are you?”, she asked, her expression both curious and vary.  You looked down at her with a stern expression but fondness in your eyes.  “Leia, you could’ve asked a bit more nicely. But this is Echo”, you told her. Your eyes went away from the girl to focus on Echo. “He’s... and old... friend.”  Yes, the words stung, but Echo understood that it was probably the best way to introduce your daughter to your ex boyfriend.  “And Echo, this is Leia, sh-”, you started, but were soon interrupted by a small voice calling out the girl’s name.  Another child, a boy, appeared, with a big smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand.  “Guess what I have!”, he said with a grin, holding the bag out for the girl to peek into.  Echo was now looking at the boy. He didn’t seem to be older or younger than the girl, so maybe he wasn’t another child of yours but Leia’s friend. Though they did look somewhat alike.  “Luke, you can’t run off like that”, a familiar voice called from behind Echo.  He refused to turn around, as long as he didn’t see who was coming up behind him, who clearly belonged to you and the children, a childish part of himself told him that it wouldn’t be true. But your words confirmed his fear.  “Rex, it’s fine”, you laughed. “Luke’s safe, he was only ahead of you by like a meter.”  Echo now looked at his brother. He looked a bit older than the last time he saw him, probably due to their rapid aging, but other than that he didn’t seem to have changed at all, still caring and commanding and loving. Echo closed his eyes for a moment, he couldn’t bear to look at you and Rex and your children, because from the way the four of you interacted he could tell that you belonged together.  Of course he had known that you would move on, though a small irrational part of him had hoped that you might wait for him to come back to you someday. But why did you have to move on with his brother? And not just any brother, one he had always been close to. And how could Rex do this, he knew more than anyone, other than Fives at least, how much Echo had always loved you.  Of course Echo knew that he should be happy for you, and part of him was, but seeing you and your family, seeing your happy smiles and the love in your eyes, just killed him.  “Echo, vod, it’s so good to see you. How have you been?”, Rex asked as he put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately.  Before Echo could answer you interrupted him with an apologetic smile. “Rex, we have to meet Padmé in 10 minutes, we better hurry. But Echo, how about you come by our apartment around 7 this evening and we’ll catch up?” 

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Echo had debated whether to actually go and see you, but in the end he decided that he might regret it more if he backed out. Plus Hunter had basically pushed him out the door and left him no other choice.  So here he was, in front of your apartment, which was only a couple of blocks away from the one you had lived in during the war.  His fist had barely touched the door when you already pulled it open and ushered Echo inside.  For a moment the two of you just stood in the hallway, looking at each other and not saying anything.  “Rex just went to buy a bottle of wine, he should be back shortly”, you said as you lead Echo further into the apartment.  He soon found himself in a larger room, which served as both living room and dining room, with the kitchen attached and only separated by a kitchen island. As he looked around he recognized most of the furniture from your old apartment, the one he had spent countless hours in, as well as photographs both old and new with many familiar faces in them. A couple were just you and Rex, but most of them had General Skywalker, Commander Tano, General Kenobi or Senator Amidala in them, along with many of his brothers. He also spotted his favourite picture, the one had had carried a copy of wherever he went, of him kissing your cheek while Fives enveloped the two of you in a hug. He was surprised to see it hanging in your living room. But what surprised him even more was how clean everything was. You had always been a tidy person, but he had suspected that children would still leave the place a bit messy. Speaking of...  “Are Luke and Leia going to join us?”, he asked.  A surprised look crossed your face before you shook your head.  “They’re with Padmé and Anakin.”  Echo nodded. Maybe it was for the best not to have the children around, the dinner would be awkward and they might only make it worse.  “How nice of the General and Senator Amidala to babysit.”  You stopped pouring water in your glass and looked at Echo in surprise.  “They’re not babysitting, the twins are their kids. Rex and I were the ones who were babysitting this morning.”  It was safe to say that Echo had not been expecting this revelation. He had been so sure that you and Rex were the parents. But his little moment of relief was cut short when he realized that this didn’t change anything. You and Rex were still a couple, you still lived together and had a life together, a life Echo had no place in.  “Are you planning on having kids then?” The question was out before Echo could stop himself. This was none of his business, it might even be better if he didn’t know. But he just had to know, having children was the one thing about your future the two of you had never talked about, had never dared to even think about in the middle of a war, but that hadn’t stopped Echo from hoping to one day raise a family with you, and he had to know if his brother was now living that unspoken dream.  “I’m not opposed to the idea, but who would I have a child with? I’m not really fond of the idea of doing this on my own”, you admitted with a nervous laugh.  Echo tore his eyes away from the plate he had been fixating on to look at you. Try as he might, he couldn’t read your expression.  “With Rex, of course. He’s your”, he started before stopping for a moment to scan your fingers for a ring, when he didn’t find one he continued. “Boyfriend. Rex is your boyfriend.”  Saying the words out loud hurt, more than Echo would ever want to admit, but it was your laughter that actually broke his hear, and your words that mended it again.  “Rex is not my boyfriend, he’s my friend. Probably my best friend and maybe more like a brother, but most certainly not my boyfriend.”  After everything he had been through there wasn’t much that could render Echo speechless, but this confession could. It took him a moment, and a thorough scan of your serious expression, for him to formulate his next sentence.  “But the two of you live together”, he finally said.  For a moment you didn’t say anything. Then you took his hand, your skin still as soft and warm as he remembered, and led him over to your couch. Softly you pulled on his arm to get him to sit next to you, closer than he would have sat while still thinking that you were in love with his brother, but not as close as he really wanted.  “Rex and I are friends, nothing more. We live together because no matter how much some politicians try, clones still have little rights and it was easier for him to move in with me than to get his own place. But Echo, I never, ever, though about Rex in any romantic way, nor he about me. I... There has only ever been one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, one person I wanted to marry and have children with and grown old with, and that person is you. Echo, it’s always been you and it always will be. I loved you ever since you carried Fives into the medbay with his broken leg and I never stopped, not when I though you were dead, not when you went away with the Bad Batch. And seeing you again only showed me how much I missed you, how much I don’t want to let you go again. But of course I understand that you’ve probably moved on.”  There were a million things Echo might have said, but for now he decided to forgo any explanations. Instead he put one of his hands on your waist and the other behind your head. Slowly he leaned closer, giving you every chance to pull way, but instead you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss.  “I love you. Always have, always will”, he whispered against your lips before you reconnected in another kiss.  The two of you were so busy with kisses and declarations of love that you didn’t notice the door opening and closing and Rex telling you that he’d spend the night at Cody’s to give the two of you a bit of privacy.  But you didn’t notice and you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were together again, you still loved each other and the galaxy was at peace, giving you time to rebuild your relationship and relishing in your love. 

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This is short and unoriginal and corny, but after today’s episode I just had to write something about Echo and the idea of him misunderstanding your relationship with one of his brothers just popped into my head, and due to Echo’s obvious love for and trust in Rex in this episode it just had to be him 

[raleighcarrera]

best of me

ride or die | logan x mc (ellie wheeler)

a picture of logan and ellie in their thirties for @rodappreciationweek and the time capsule challenge 🌼

tags: @choicesarehard ; @lovehugsandcandy ; @pixeljazzy ; @troublemakerinspace ; @zigtheeortega ; @jaxmatsuo

~2.3k words | T

“mr. wheeler!” 

logan looked around the parking lot, squinting into the sun. one of his students was running at him full speed, holding his cell phone aloft and waving it around excitedly. “what’s up, alex?”

alex drew to a stop in front of him breathlessly. “i got in,” he said, lips splitting into a big grin. “cal tech, i got in.”

“hey, that’s awesome!” logan said, reaching out to clap the student on the shoulder. “congrats, alex. that’s a huge accomplishment.”

“dude, thank you so much for your recommendation,” alex said, nodding enthusiastically. “you’re honestly the best teacher i’ve ever had.”

“give yourself some credit,” he smiled, “you worked hard, and cal tech is lucky to have you. just don’t forget to come back and visit, yeah?”

“for sure,” alex agreed. with one last grin, he was gone, and logan finished getting his things in the car so he could head home, the rest of the students and faculty in the parking lot of mar vista high well used to the roar his devore’s engine made by now, after three years of teaching.

ellie’s car was already in the driveway when he arrived back at the house, and logan frowned when he parked on the street and jogged up the walk to their front door. it was early for her to be home; usually his day ended well before hers. as he walked inside, he wondered absently if the fact that she’d had an early afternoon meant she’d started dinner, and if he was possibly lucky enough that she was making that noodle thing he liked so much.

“ellie?” his keys landed in the bowl by the door with a familiar clink, his shoes kicked off one by one on the mat. “babe?”

“in here!” the stressed-out voice of his wife filtered in from the spare room. as soon as logan took a step towards the hallway, there was a sudden and aggressive rapid tap-tap-tap on the hardwood floor, and their dog ran at him at full speed, jumping up onto his legs with an excited bark.

“hey, clark,” he said gently, bending down to scratch the dog behind his floppy ears, “everything okay in there?”

the pointed silence that followed seemed to speak for itself. he followed the hallway down to the spare bedroom and found ellie sitting on the floor, surrounded by ripped-open cardboard boxes and indistinguishable small plastic pieces.

before logan could ask what she was doing, she frowned up at him and said, “i’ve been trying to put this baby carrier together for three hours.”

he arched his eyebrows at her, looking over the small mess she’d created in the middle of the room. “you’ve been here for three hours?”

ellie pulled a face at him, her lips twisted into a grimace. “morning sickness that lasts all day again,” she explained, scrunching up her nose. “jack caught me coming out of the bathroom and sent me home after lunch.”

“oh, no,” logan said sympathetically, dropping down onto his knees on the one free space of carpet. “i was hoping that’d’ve gone away by now.”

“you and me both,” ellie sighed, puckering her lips at him for a quick kiss. “i guess it was too much to hope for a baby without a rebellious streak a mile wide.”

“i’m still holding out for your dimples,” he grinned, “and that laugh. as long as the baby gets both of those, they’ll be set for life.”

“the baby is five minutes away from sleeping on the floor. i’m about to trash all of this and go take a nap.” the downtrodden expression on ellie’s face tugged at his heart in a way her cute little sighs always seemed to manage to. logan was already smiling when she squinted up at him hopefully and asked, “will you help me try to put it together?”

as if there was ever a chance he’d say no. “’course,” logan answered, “two heads are better than one, right? although you are an engineer...”

“believe me, graco is going to be hearing from me,” ellie grumbled, rolling gingerly to the side to shuffle awkwardly out of the way of the pile of pieces she’d already started putting together. she was just a few months along but already starting to show and moving about differently for it, unaccustomed to her new shape. “there is no reason these instructions should be more complicated than my master’s thesis.”

logan laughed, leaning over to take a peek at the paper spread out between her legs. “hey, they’re not so bad.” he easily snapped two pieces into place, forming the base of the carrier. “there we go.”

“show off.” ellie rolled her eyes, pushing another piece his way with a disdainful sniff. “i’m still calling them to complain.”

“and you totally should,” he said easily, “because they suck and you’re brilliant.”

“exactly,” she agreed. without looking up he could tell that her eyes were narrowed, her lip curling further with every piece he added onto the carrier, the methodic click of each settling into place ringing out loudly in the silent room. finally, ellie groaned, “god, i hate you. i knew this would be so easy for you.”

“okay, but that’s what i’m here for,” he reminded her with another soft smile, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze her knee. ellie huffed when he continued to turn a plastic screw one-handed. “to handle all this shit for you so you can relax. i know you have the hardest job, here.”

“you are the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” ellie’s sigh sounded wistful. when logan lifted his gaze he found her staring at him adoringly, her eyes wet. “i love you.”

“i love you too, baby. any idea what you want for dinner?” he looked away to concentrate on lining two tiny pieces up, frowning when they wouldn’t stick quite right. “come here for a sec, yeah? need some tiny fingers.”

ellie shot him a look, but leaned over anyway, wiggling her hand in the tight space he indicated until the two pieces sealed together with a pop. “maybe i don’t need a refund on my degree after all.”

“they should’ve paid you to take it,” logan agreed indulgently, nudging his shoulder gently against hers. “dinner?” he prompted again.

his wife groaned theatrically, flopping back onto the carpet. her arms and legs spread out like she was making a snow angel, disturbing the bubble wrap and cardboard that littered the room. “i want sushi,” ellie said sadly, “and a wine spritzer.”

“what about apple cider?” he asked gently, eyes still on the baby carrier even as one hand felt blindly for her calf and dug its thumb into her muscle for a massage. “it’s almost the same thing.”

“it’s not even close,” she sighed. “but fine. thank you.”

“you got it. why don’t i finish up in here, and you see what we have in the kitchen? it’ll just be a few more minutes.”

“rub it in,” ellie muttered, rolling slowly to sit up. “okay. i feel like i should do something nice for you. maybe i can make that noodle thing you like.”

logan beamed at her, leaning in to steal a kiss. “that’s sweet of you, babe. thank you.”

ellie laughed, kissing him back before she asked, “why do i feel like this was all an elaborate set up to get me to make your favorite dinner?”

“because you’re a naturally suspicious person?” he guessed, lifting his hand to smooth her hair back off her face. “i don’t know.”

“i think it’s because you’re too charming for your own damn good.” but ellie was smiling when he pulled away, and that was all that mattered. it was the only goal he ever had. 

“no such thing,” logan smiled back, gently nudging her away. “i’m right behind you.”

“yeah, yeah,” she said, waving dismissively, “show off.”

he watched her walk away, staring until she disappeared around the corner, and then turned back to the mass of plastic and screws that was slowly starting to resemble an actual baby carrier. squinting down at the instructions, it was only a matter of minutes before he had the rest of it assembled, and then a few more while he backtracked, checking over his work to find where he’d missed the one remaining piece that had been left over.

he took the time to clean up in what was eventually going to be their nursery, eyes sweeping over the boxes and gifts that cluttered their spare room. there was a ways to go before they were anything even close to ready for the baby, and he knew ellie’s due date would be here in the blink of an eye.

would he ever really feel ready? it seemed insane, when he sat and thought about it -- he and ellie were going to be parents. more than home or dog owners or two people with jobs and bills, it seemed like a responsibility he felt no where near prepared for or equipped to deal with. sometimes he still felt like a stupid kid himself.

though he had absolutely no doubts about ellie. ellie took to every kid she met like a natural -- his students adored her, riya’s twins thought she was the greatest thing in the world and were still only lukewarm where he was concerned. the kids in the program they volunteered with couldn’t get enough of her.

she kept their house running and all their plants alive. she kept him so happy he was delirious with it, in a way that had felt utterly foreign at first but now seemed so common. 

enviously, he knew she’d be mother of the year without even having to try.

the rest of the room was tidied on autopilot as logan remained lost in his thoughts, and when he finally made his way into the kitchen it was, to his delight, to the tune of ellie in the middle of making his favorite dinner, the room smelling as amazing as the sight of her rushing around so domestically looked.

his heart gave a weak lurch as he stepped up behind her at the counter and wound his arms around her waist. his nose pressed into the dip at her shoulder with a sigh. “all done. next stop... crib.”

“don’t remind me,” ellie groaned, “my dad has been on my ass for weeks.”

logan winced. if there was one thing he knew about detective wheeler, it was that he was just as opinionated as his beautiful daughter. “maybe he could come with us to pick it out.”

“maybe he could mind his own business,” she suggested instead, stirring the boiling pot of pasta on the stove. “he acts like he knows everything there is to know about babies.”

“well,” logan said, nosing at the hair at the nape of her neck, “he did raise the most amazing person in the entire world. maybe we should give him some credit.”

“okay, kiss ass,” ellie laughed, “he can’t hear you. but fine. if you really want, we’ll all go next weekend.”

he shrugged. it was personally something he felt indifferent towards, but a few extra points with ellie’s dad never hurt. most of the time he was pretty certain detective wheeler still wanted him dead. “i think that’d be nice.”

“i bet you do,” she murmured, twisting around to hold the spoon she was holding out. “taste.”

he did, chewing and swallowing slowly. “it’s done,” logan said sadly, knowing the words meant he’d have to move away. ellie laughed as he pulled his arms back and went to set the table instead.

he headed to the fridge for the bottle of sparkling cider, making a show of popping the cork like champagne and pouring ellie a generous amount into the giant wine glass she hadn’t been able to use in awhile. she rolled her eyes at him as she put the serving bowl on the table. “it’s not the same.”

“it’s pretty close,” he argued, lifting his own glass up and swirling it like he’d seen many pretentious people at restaurants that made him uncomfortable do. “it’s a beautiful vintage,” he declared, as though he had any idea what that was supposed to mean, “with notes of... apples.”

gratifyingly, ellie dissolved into giggles, shaking her head. “i can’t stand you,” she said fondly, all smiles. he grinned back at her, lifting his glass to his lips. 

“to the baby,” ellie said suddenly, lifting her glass, too, and bumping it into his.

“to you,” logan corrected her, clinking his glass into hers a second time.

ellie narrowed her eyes at him. “to you.” their glasses knocked again.

“nuh uh,” he countered childishly, “you’re the baby’s mom.”

“you’re the baby’s dad,” she laughed, bouncing up on her toes to try to get at his glass even as he lifted it above his head and twisted out of her way.

“this is ridiculous,” logan grinned, “just let me toast you, oh my god.”

“no, it was my toast,” she said, jumping up and splashing apple cider out of her glass and onto the floor, “stop trying to hijack it!”

“okay, okay.” he held his hand out to concede, backing away to drop into his seat at the table. ellie followed suit, smirking triumphantly at him. she still loved to win. “to all of us, jeez. me and you and the baby.”

“to all of us,” ellie repeated, and this time, their glasses touched gently, the sound barely audible over the giggles that were building up in her throat again.

he flashed her a goofy grin before he tipped his head back and drained all his cider in one go. 

sure, it might’ve been nice to have had something stronger, but --

“mmm,” ellie sighed, smacking her lips as she set her glass down, “you were right. this is so much better.”

[heartbeatan]

Devil's Garden (Chapter 2)

Return to Chapter 1.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Taehyung Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter Two

Taehyung arrived mid-morning to The Devil’s Garden the next day. The establishment wasn’t open to the public yet – it usually wasn’t until near noon – but a lot of the staff were there already, hustling around the property tending to crops, the distillery and preparing the guest services. He was guided down a long corridor by the hostess until she eventually released him in front of your office. You weren’t there yet. You were somewhere else on the property and would be there “momentarily” or so he was told. At first, Taehyung sat patiently in the winged chair across from your desk – smoothing out his tie and straitening the lapels and pleats of his freshly pressed suit.

But patience was never Taehyung’s strong suit and soon his eyes began to wander towards the nooks and crannies of the room. The space smelled clean – clean in the way a woman would keep it. Like fresh laundry, or a citrus cleaner, perhaps a vanilla incense was placed somewhere in the room. He gazed over the bookshelves to his right, looking for the source and spotting the jar of oil and reeds. He stood up before he realized that he had, then strolled across the room.

“Yup,” he said out loud as the scent intensified, confirming the diffuser was the source. His gaze then wandered beyond it, to the books and the knickknacks strewn over the shelves. Organized chaos is what he would call your system. Clean and tidy, but without direction. Files related to business were stored between novels, which were propped against trinkets and photo frames. This office, this shelf, each piece was telling a story - although he didn’t quite know yet how to read it.

The first thing that really caught his attention was a short, silver, decorative dagger, propped up on a simple plexiglass stand. It was the kind you’d find in a games shop. The kind people, of a certain taste, would splay throughout their homes and hang from walls. It seemed massively out of place compared to the contemporary, bright décor of the room. Perhaps it was a gift, or an artifact from a phase you went through in your younger years. He then noticed a box, wood carved and antique looking. He couldn’t stop his internal private eye from flicking the latch to peer inside.

Cigarettes. Taehyung smiled. So, you weren’t as squeaky clean and polished as you first appeared. You too had a dirty little habit the way he did. Except, unlike him, you hid yours. Probably only had one every once in a while, when the world became just a little too stressful.

He closed the lid, then moved a little further down the shelves, ghosting his fingers over the books until he reached one that intrigued him. It was a romance novel – he could tell from the spine. He recognized it as the drugstore type that his mother liked to read. He reached for it, taking it from its place on the shelf and flipping it over in his hand to read the summary.

This one was about a woman at the turn of the century. Young, pretty, wealthy and from “good breeding.” But all she had ever wanted was to rough it with the lads at the tavern: drink beer; gamble over poker; wear pants. A woman who would soon meet a strapping but primitive type man, who would offer her what she wanted at a cost of one wild night together.

Taehyung’s sniffed in amusement as he read the ridiculous description, but it had his curiosity regardless. He wondered… was this simple fantasy, or did this type of scenario titillate you? Was this something you dreamt about late at night - something you secretly wanted? One night of passion with a man who would debase you… use you… ruin you… before you returned to your pretty little life and the boring fucker you meant to live it out with?

He knew these thoughts were biased and self serving, but, oh god, did he enjoy the idea that they could be true; the idea that he could be your Sir What’s-His-Face, owed one night of making you come over and over again.

Maybe it would happen here, at the winery, under the cover of darkness so that sucker of a husband of yours would never find out. After hours, so that no one would be around to hear the sounds he’d make you make…

Taehyung replaced the book on the shelf as he heard voices and footsteps in the hall outside your office. Before returning to his seat, however, something else caught his attention. A photo within a frame. It appeared to have been taken there, in front of the visitor’s entrance. You were there, centre, surrounded by just a few people – far less people than worked here now – but he deduced it was a staff photo. Probably from when you first opened The Devil’s Garden. Next to you stood a man, tall, handsome, grinning widely with his arm wrapped around your waist. Taehyung hated him immediately.

“Mr. Kim,” he turned his head towards the door as you called his name. You stepped across the threshold, smiling brightly at him, more preoccupied by the stack of papers in your arms than of the stranger canvasing your office.

“Taehyung, please” he reminded you, hating how the formality of his name sounded off your tongue.

“Sorry!” you apologized as you threw the stack of papers onto your desk, before turning to him and sticking out your hand and smiling. “Taehyung.”

For some reason, your gesture for a handshake felt even more formal than calling him Mr. Kim, and he didn’t like it either. But nonetheless, he reached out and shook it, but not before his eyes – just as they did the first time you met – flickered down your body to drink in the sight of you. Today, you were in yet another dress. But this time, it was a little more formal, a little bit tighter, and he could swear by the way he marveled at your legs that it was a little bit shorter too. This time, you wore open-toed high heels, and he salivated at the way they showcased your feet and curved your spine. In fear his unconscious objectification of you was obvious, he snapped his gaze back to your face, but your eyes were not on him. Instead, they too had flitted to his shoes, then back up his form, over his broad chest, until they locked with his. For an awkward second, you stared back at him in what appeared to be a state of shock. As if you had been caught. Your cheeks blushed slightly – he was sure of it. Were you… checking him out?

No way, Taehyung thought to himself. You were just sizing him up. Reminding himself what a shit show he looked like yesterday, you were probably surprised that he had cleaned himself up so well today. For some reason, that made him even more embarrassed. He wasn’t sure why – either for the fact that you saw him a mess just less than 24 hours ago, or for the possibility that you realized he was cleaning up for you.

“Is this your first husband?” he blurted out suddenly in a bid to overcome the awkwardness he felt. He pointed backwards to the picture frame he had just be looking at when you entered the room.

“Yes,” you confirmed as you peered over his shoulder to its place on the shelf. “We weren’t married yet, but yes.”

“So, he worked here?”

“Sort of,” you shuffled your head, implying that it wasn’t that simple. “He was going through school at the time. I was supporting him, but he worked here sometimes to help me out.”

“What did he go to school for?”

“To be an electrician.”

“You like your tradesmen, then?” Taehyung quipped, but immediately regretted it. What kind of an asshole jokes with a woman he hardly knows about the type of men she fucks? What kind of an asshole jokes about someone’s dead husband?

This kind of asshole, he thought as he braced himself for a look of disappointment and offence to flush across your face. But, to his astonishment, it never came. Instead you laughed.

“I do have a type, I supposed,” You chuckled as you walked behind your desk. You gestured with your hands to the pile of papers you had brought in with you. “I brought everything I could find dating back to when Ezra and I first got together. Fortunately…” you curved your lips into a mock grimace, “we haven’t been together that long so there shouldn’t be much to sift through.” Taehyung smiled at your apparent humour over your present situation. It put him at ease knowing you were the type capable of laughing at your own circumstance. So many of his clients weren’t – no matter how ridiculous the request or even more ridiculous the return – he received a many a lectures on his lack of sensitivity and jaded emotives.

“Well, let’s get started then,” he suggested as he pulled his suit jacket off his shoulders and began to roll up the cuffs of his shirt.

 

Even though the work itself began slow, the morning passed by rather quickly while you taught Taehyung your bookkeeping style and he showed you what to look for. The hostess delivered lunch to you both in the office sometime mid afternoon, prompting a necessary break for you both. Taehyung asked you more about the inception of the winery – a question more so in personal curiosity rather than in detective interrogation – and you animatedly told him nearly every benign detail of how you opened and closed your lucrative paralegal service in the city in pursuit of your new passion for wine making and hospitality. The story eventually led to a personal tour of the property – just him and you, wandering the vineyard and buildings. You teaching him all the things he already knew or didn’t know about wine making, as well, sharing with him your dream to expand… to open a bed & breakfast on the property… to even the wild idea of owning a small chicken coop for feeing your guest the freshest of feasts. Your passion for your work lifted his mood, but at the same time made him incredibly jealous – or at least, nostalgic. Nostalgic for a time when he was impassioned by his work. When he was bright eyed and ambitious, attaining a career he was passionate and driven for.

“Did you always want to be a private investigator?” you asked him, as you two made your way back towards the main building.

“Sort of,” he replied, trying to hide the grimness that came with his answer. “I wanted to be a detective. A P.I. was just sort of plan B.”

“You could still do it, I’m sure!” your tenor bubbly and encouraging. “It took me a little courage and a few years scraping by, but I made it my dream come true. I’m sure you could too!”

He smiled meekly, appreciative of your words and the naivety behind them. “I did, actually.”

“You did?” you asked in confusion.

Taehyung nodded. “I was a detective. For many years.”

“Oh?”

He could tell from your tone that you were both curious about the story but that you had also picked up on the fact that it was a bit of a sensitive subject. Normally, he would have ended the conversation right there. In fact, normally, he wouldn’t have revealed his past career at all. But today, next to you, he felt different. Today, he felt he could talk about it, even if it was only a small piece.

“I did it for years. But then I left for a while. Thought I’d go back eventually, but… started doing this instead.”

“I take it something happened?”

“It can be a taxing job. It’s also more political than most would like to believe.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” you apologized, noticing how Taehyung’s language had become more elusive.

“It’s fine,” he shook his head. “It’s just a long story.”

You made the rest of your way back to the office mostly in silence. Taehyung regretted it. He had wished the conversation had stayed on you – that he could amusedly listen to you babble about nothing and everything. But, fortunately, the awkwardness soon faded as the two of you returned to the office and buckled in to working hard for the remainder of the day. At least the apparent awkwardness faded.

For Taehyung, even though he could for the most part will himself to become lost in his work, there were too many times when his eyes and mind would wander onto you. Damn, did you know what an effect you had on him? You were so god damned fuckable. The way your lips curved, and your brows furrowed when you concentrated drove him wild. He just knew that was how your face would contort when you were focusing on coming, and fuck, did he ever want to see that. When you leaned forward over your desk, he could catch an incendiary glimpse down that fucking dress of yours, leaving him near salivating at the thought of biting down and marking the soft mounds. At some point, you left your chair for a file stored a top one of the bookshelves. With your back to him, he could shamelessly watch you with out getting caught. Admire the way your body stretched and flexed, the way the fabric of your dress would pull, taunting him with a potential glimpse of your bare ass.

If only you were his in this moment. Or at minimum, if he knew you wanted him too, he would have stood up and crossed the floor. He would have stepped up behind you. You would have felt his chest ghost over your back, just before you would have felt his hand travel slowly, smoothly, tauntingly up the back of your thigh then underneath that skirt. He would hear you gasp faintly when his fingers brush over the silk protecting you from him.

He knew your panties would be silk.

He’d slip his finger along your slit again, this time a little harder, let you know he meant business.

“We’re working, Taehyung,” you would breathe unconvincingly. “Someone might catch us.”

He’d raise his other hand, covering yours as it gripped around the ledge of the shelf in front of you, anchoring you to something so that you knew he didn’t care enough to stop. He’d then drag another long finger across your dampening core, but this time, he’d end his movement by gripping a hold of the fabric, pulling it tight in his fist. As he pulled, your back would arch a little, your ass would perk for him, and you would feel the tension of the fabric tight against your clit. Your gasp would let him know that you too didn’t care enough about getting caught.

He’d release his grip, but he wouldn’t strip you of your panties. No – he would want you to come in them, stain them so that you’d have to go without them for the rest of the day. Be reminded of him everywhere you went that afternoon. So, he’d slip his hand beneath the fabric instead. Touch you raw. Make you drip. Until, inevitably, through gritted teeth you’d beg for him to sink his fingers into you and fuck you harder.

“This is that last one,” your voice broke his thoughts as you returned to your desk with the box you had pulled from the top shelf. “Everything from the last month.”

“Good,” he replied, looking down at his watch to check the time. “What time do you need to be home?”

“Well…” you began slowly. “Ezra is supposed to be done at six… Which means he should be texting me at any moment telling me he’ll be home late.” Taehyung could tell you were trying to be humourous, but it was clear you were annoyed and feeling a little hurt.

“If he does, let me know. Let’s finish up this if we can.”

It felt like working under a ticking time bomb. Curiosity hanging in the air as you both waited for the cellphone to buzz - waiting for the alert that Ezra wasn’t coming home on time, and the prompt for Taehyung to climb in his car and try to figure out why that was. But the message never came. Through it all, you managed to complete the audit of the books.

“Did we find anything?” you asked Taehyung as you stretched back in your chair, both mentally and physically exhausted from the task.

“No. Not that I can see,” he replied. “Everything seems to be in order here. You run a tight ship.”

You sighed.

“I know it seems like a waste, but this was a good first step,” he said, noticing your slight disappointment. “This is a good thing. We don’t know what he’s up to yet, but at least we know he’s not stealing from you.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “I just want to know what the hell is going on. I’m tired of feeling paranoid.”

“I know this is the most annoying thing to hear in a situation like this but… you just have to be patient. We’ll get there.” You looked up to him, a thinly pressed smile on your face. He could tell his words comforted you a bit, but not enough. “And in the end, there could be nothing. He might be telling the truth.”

The words tasted bitter rolling off his tongue. He thought perhaps they would ease your mind, but it felt like he was telling a lie. If your husband weren’t up to something, this would be a first for Taehyung. Rarely were his client’s intuitions ever wrong – especially when they had gone about taking the step to call him in the first place. He doubted your suspicions were unwarranted, but as you sat across from him now - your eyes locked on his, your lip tucked once again between your teeth, and the surface of the desk between you just begging to be cleared so he could lay you over it - he also selfishly wanted your suspicions to be right. Wanted to know that your husband wasn’t worthy of you.

And then it came… the buzz of a notification on your phone. Both your eyes gazed to each other, then to the phone vibrating on the desk. You picked it up, swiping the screen to unlock it and reveal the message. Taehyung watched you as read it, saw how your lips pursed and your shoulders sunk.

“What does it say?” he asked, but you didn’t answer him right away. Instead your thumbs tapped rapidly over the screen as you replied to him. Moments later, a second buzz came. You sighed audibly as you read his reply.

“It’s Ezra,” you dropped the phone back onto your desk and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “He says he’s going to be late tonight.”

Taehyung looked you over as he felt your aura of brightness dim into one of disappointment.

“Is there something else?” he asked. “You seem more surprised than I expected?”

“It’s just…” you looked back to him, but he could tell you weren’t sure if you wanted to share your thoughts. “Tonight was a bit of an anniversary of ours. We had… special plans. He promised.” His stomach knotted at your words. He didn’t know what your “special plans” were, but he knew what they would be if they were with him.

“Did he say what he was doing?”

“Just that he had to work. Said he’d wouldn’t be home too late.”

Taehyung nodded, unsure of what else to do.

“Since my dinner plans are now cancelled… are you hungry?” you asked. He was. He wanted to stay. But this was the perfect opportunity for surveillance. So, he replied with a polite “no.”

“You should go home,” he suggested instead. “Wait for your husband. Let me know if something changes.”

 

Some time later, Taehyung found himself parked along a darkened street located somewhere in an industrial district on the outskirts of the city. Although dimly lit, he had a clear view of the yard located behind Stintsons – the construction business Ezra worked at.

The building was dark. The yard empty. But Taehyung noticed the station wagon still parked in the lot. It had to be Ezra’s. Hell, no one even drove a station wagon anymore – what were the chances another employee had one as well? He swiped the screen on his cellphone, noting by the clock that it was almost eight. He then opened his messages, clicking on your name to read the last thing he sent you.

TH 6:09 PM: Let me know when he gets home.

He could tell you had read the message, but still there was no reply.

A creak in the still evening perked Taehyung’s ears. He squinted through the darkness to see a figure exiting the building and making their way towards the station wagon.

“There you are,” Taehyung breathed. He watched as the figure climbed into the car, as the lights and engine roared, and as the vehicle pulled itself from the lot and headed down the street. Taehyung reached for the ignition, turning the keys to bring his own car to life, then carefully pulled out into the street to follow.

The wagon drove through the town, down the main roads until it made its way to the highway, taking the pass that Taehyung knew was in the direction of your home. He noted how incredibly unsuspicious it was. Most who were hiding something tended to travel down back roads, take indirect routes, avoid CCTVs. Although this was his first night of surveillance, the thought crossed Taehyung’s mind that perhaps Ezra really wasn’t up to something. He was at the office just as he said he was. Now he was heading home, just as he said he would.

Regardless of those thoughts, Taehyung kept the tail – following the wagon off the exit, down a long residential street, until he turned into a crescent. Taehyung parked his car, turning it off and letting the lights go dim. He watched as the wagon pulled into a driveway. Noting the number on the house, he quickly pulled out his notepad, flipping through the pages until he found the address you had given him.

Yup… this was your house. He looked back up as the wagon door open. The driver climbed out of the car, brandishing a bouquet of flowers in his arms.

“What a fucker,” Taehyung seethed as Ezra made his way up the stairs, opening the front door to the home before he disappeared inside. That’s when his phone buzzed with the receipt of a new message.

Y/N 8:56 PM: He’s home.

 

Taehyung sat there in his car on the street for a while, watching the sky turn a pitch black, watching the lights of the neighbourhood disappear as each household fell to sleep. He was biding his time, but he was driving himself mad in the process.

He replayed over the image of a flower bearing Ezra arriving home to his gorgeous fucking wife who had been waiting all to patiently for him. Better yet, he obsessed over the possible scenarios of what came next. It was an “anniversary” type of night, you had told Taehyung. A “special” night. Were you angry at your husband for coming home late on your “special” night? Did you throw those pathetic flowers back in his face? Or, were you pleased? Did his flowers make you swoon for him? Forgive him? Did you thank him with a long, sensual kiss as he made his way through the door?

Was your “special” night supposed to be romantic? Perhaps, this undeserving, lucky son of a bitch walked into an erotic scene you had planned for weeks. Perhaps a silk robe adorned your shoulders, and you held in each hand a glass of wine – one for you and one for the man who would get to fuck you. Or maybe it was more of a romantic night, and you were upstairs already, your body splayed across the bed and covered only by a tiny chemise, waiting for someone to come find you and make love to you. Or maybe you were a little bit naughty. Maybe you wore lingerie, flame red, tit lifting, and ass hugging. Maybe you were waiting on the kitchen counter, or the dining room table – your legs spread wide, your hands caressing your own body – signalling for your man to eat you until you cried, then pound you until you went blind. Could your husband even fuck you that good?

Even through his jealousy, Taehyung’s dick twitched at the thought. He knew he could fuck you that good. He knew just what he’d do if he was the one walking through that door, and he couldn’t wait to get back home so he could rub one out as he imagined it – just the way he did last night in his chair and again this morning in the shower. He probably could jerk off right there, in his car, outside your house, like some perverted stalker who knew they wouldn’t be caught – but he didn’t - even he had limits.

Another hour rolled by, and the neighbourhood was now completely quiet and shrouded in darkness, save for the single lamp post. Convinced it was safe, Taehyung quietly exited his car, taking with him a long thin rod. He crossed the crescent then walked up your driveway, stopping when he was next to the passenger door of the station wagon. Taking a quick look around, he slid the thin metal between the driver’s side door and window, maneuvering the piece until he heard the gleeful click of the door unlocking. Sliding himself inside, he first popped the centre console and shuffled through the items for anything of interest. When nothing came about, he checked the glove box, quickly scanning over each piece of paper.

He paused at an envelope, noting the familiar insignia on it. It was from the train station. Flipping it open, he found inside two tickets – dated for a week from today, both headed for the coast. Two tickets. That meant Ezra had intended for two to travel. You hadn’t told Taehyung anything about travelling. Did you know? Was it a surprise? Was that why he worked late, to make extra money for a trip? Or, was it a trip for him and his secret lover? A thousand scenarios ran through Taehyung’s mind, but he had no time to mull them over now. Instead, he snapped two pictures of the tickets before replacing everything as it was.

 

The next morning, Taehyung woke to the irritating sound of his phone buzzing and ringing beside him. Through groggy eyes, he looked towards the clock on his bedside table. Empty bottles of beer and wine blocked his view, and he remembered what he had done after he got home last night.

“Fuck,” he croaked as he finally felt his hangover when he moved to find his phone. The call went to voicemail before he could reach it. He considered ignoring it and rolling back over and back to sleep, but curiosity of who was calling him at six in the morning got the better of him.

It was you. You were the one to call him… but that wasn’t until after you had texted him 11 times already.

Taehyung sat straight up in bed, clicking your number as he did, waiting for you to pick up.

“Taehyung,” your voice came through in a clear distress. “He’s missing!”

[itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto]

Pumpkin Spice and All Things Nice. Part 1.

A/N: Hi everyone! This is a follow up to ‘Sugar, Yes please!’ so if you haven’t read that, I’d recommend you read that first, and come back to this.  Possible triggers:  Mentions of an abusive relationship, swearing, drinking (alcohol).

“Coming!” You say as your doorbell rang to your flat, and opened it to your girlfriends, JJ, Penelope and Emily. “Come in…” You say opening the door for them all. “Just excuse all of the books.” The girls exchanged looks with each-other before Penelope whispered, “She’s basically a female boy wonder.” “When he sees all of her books, he’s going to read them all.” Emily laughed picking up one called ‘The Language Instinct: How the Mind Creates Language by Steven Pinker’ and rolled her eyes. “So, what do you all want to drink?” You asked, before your date with Spencer, the girls agreed to just make sure you felt ready for your date after your last boyfriend didn’t treat you well, and the girls agreed to make sure you are comfortable for tomorrow. “I got beer, wine and I can make cocktails too.” You said gesturing to the alcohol stand on your counter. “Do you like to drink Y/N?” J.J laughed. “I see the cute lights are up that you told Spencer about.” You smile at the pumpkin and ghost lights before replying, “I used to be a cocktail waitress for a year, so it’s kind of stuck, experimenting with flavours to see what I come up with. Ooh, I’ll make you all the Pumpkin Spiced Latte cocktail I’ve been working on.” You say and start to whip it up. “So, yes.” Penelope giggled “Yeah, I usually like a cold beer on the balcony, reading a book and having a cigarette. It’s my favourite way to relax. The wine is for guests, I don’t like it, but I think it’s important to always have a bottle of red and white in for company.” You shrug and poor the cocktail into a glass, finishing it with a dusting of mixed spice. “My kind of girl.” Emily said. “May I?” She asks gesturing to the wine. “Of course – help yourselves to anything alcoholic.” You smile as Emily opens the bottle pouring herself and J.J a glass. “Ooh it does taste like a Pumpkin Spiced Latte!” Penelope giggled and continued drinking it. “Fucking hell it does!” J.J said sipping a bit of the other glass. “That’s addictive girl.” Emily laughed. “You should make one for Spencer when he comes to your place after the date.” She winked, “You may even get some action!” “I’ve never had sex on the first date!” You exclaimed, “Maybe on like date 10…” “10?! Y/N you’re such a cutie.” Penelope said putting a cocktail umbrella in her hair For the rest of the evening, you and the BAU ladies took cute selfies, and chatted about non-work-related things. “Bye ladies.” You say as they all get into a taxi and go back into your flat. You clean your kitchen, noticing it’s only 10PM, so decide to have your relaxing routine, and grab a beer out of the fridge and your packet of cigarettes, and sit by the balcony for a few hours before calling it a night. The following morning, you get up and get ready for your date with Spencer, you are pretty glad it’s a casual date as you really hate dressing up. Your phone rings, and you sigh assuming it’s work, “Agent Y/N.” You say yawning. “Oh hi, sorry did I wake you?” Spencer asks worried. “Morning Spencer, no, I was just doing exam revision. Everything okay? Are we needed at work?” You ask “No, I just realised I don’t have your address.” He laughed “For a genius, I thought you’d have that already.” You chuckled and told it to him. “Great! See you at 12.” Spencer said. “Bye Y/N.” “Bye Spencer.” You say, and hang up, going to get ready settling for a cute ghost t-shirt, black jeans and orange converse, you are going pumpkin picking after all, and wear the Pumpkin earrings your friend got you last year. Whilst you wait, you read a book on Psychology. There’s a knock at the door, you’d been reading for an hour and didn’t realise you’d read 10 books from cover to cover. “Coming!” You say checking who’s at the door through the spy hole, and smile seeing its Spencer. “Hi Spence, come in.” You smile, “Ignore the books everywhere. I try to tidy them but they just grow.” Spencer smiled, finally someone who loves books as much as him, “Hi Y/N. You look nice.” He smiled, opting for a t-shirt, cardigan, jeans and converse. “And pumpkin earrings, very fitting for today.” He said, “Have you been reading those last night?” He asked gesturing the 10 books on your sofa and took a seat. “May I sit?” He asks as you nod smiling, everyone on the team knows that they can make themselves at home at your place. “I read them in the last hour, they’re really interesting.” You smile. “I just need to put my eyeliner on and I’m ready.” You say “You don’t need to wear make up Y/N, you’re perfectly fine without it.” Spencer said accidentally out loud “You think so?” You ask as a few tears roll down your cheeks. The last guy you dated insisted you wore make up, and would hit you if you didn’t, Spencer doesn’t know of your past relationship and you definitely don’t want a repeat. “Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Spencer says running over with a tissue. “You can wear it if you want, but I don’t think you need it.” He says kissing your cheek where the last tear lingered. “It’s okay Spence. I know you didn’t mean it.” You whisper, “Before we go, I need to tell you something. Because I don’t want to tell it to you too late.” Spencer nods, as you sit on the sofa. You tell Spencer about your abusive relationship before this, and how badly you were treated but managed to get out of it and get help when you started at the FBI, your ex now has a restraining order and cannot be within a certain distance from you or he will get arrested. “Oh Y/N, you’re the sweetest person I know, and I promise I won’t ever hurt you, either mentally or physically. I promise.” He said holding your hand. You nod, “I know Spence.” You say, believing his promise. “Let me get my phone and I’m ready. You look nice too by the way.” Spencer nods and ties his shoelace, “How many books do you own? I’ve counted 252 but I assume there is more.” He says glancing around the room “Erm, I have more in my room, and in the little library. I brought the place off a couple who had a baby but the flat was too small, so I converted the small room where the baby slept into a library, so I think there’s about 325 books in there. Have a look if you want.” You say putting your phone in your pocket. Spencer goes and has a look, “You were wrong. There’s 326 books.” He says laughing. “Sorry.” You giggle. “Must’ve forgot the book worm has to be included in the book count. Now come on, I wanna pick a pumpkin to carve!” You say unaware Spencer put a book in there for you. Spencer follows you out, and he drives to the pumpkin patch where there’s a long line. “Thank you.” You giggle getting out of the car, where Spencer dashed over to open the door for you. “Do you think we can use our credentials to get past the line?” “I don’t think Strauss would approve.” Spencer laughed, “But I booked ahead and got a time slot.” He said getting the paper tickets out of his pocket and handed them to an employee who checked them and allowed them inside. “Can I keep one?” You ask Spencer, who nods smiling and hands one to you. “I have a memory box. Everything fun I do with you and the team goes in there.” You explain. The rest of the afternoon is spent finding the perfect pumpkin, and getting to know each-other better, as there’s only so much you can get to know one another at work. By now, you have a full wheelbarrow of pumpkins. “Let me take your picture with all of them!” You say to Spencer who poses behind them. “Let’s see the photo!” He smiles at you, as you show it to him on your phone. “Can you send it to Penelope? I want to get it printed for my Mum.” He says as you nod.

After the pumpkin patch, Spencer drives you back to your flat. “Would you like to come in for a drink?” You offer, biting your lip. “Sure.” Spencer smiled, carrying the pumpkins you brought, and you carried the baby ones. “I had a lot of fun today Spence, thank you.” You smiled “As did I.” He said, as you walked into your apartment. “Holy shit, this is incredible.” Spencer says drinking the pumpkin spiced latte cocktail you made for him. “Thanks.” You say, sipping your beer. “I like to experiment. Penelope drank 5 of them last night.” “I can see why.” Spencer smirked, just looking at you with loving eyes. “What are you thinking?” You ask “That I want to kiss you.” Spencer said nervously. “Then kiss me.” You say and sit on his lap. Looks like the pumpkins won’t be carved any time soon… To be continued! Taglist: @pumpkin-goob​ , @jpegjade​ , @andiebeaword​ , @hotchsbabygirl​ , @hopebaker​ , @hercleverboy​ , @cupcake525​ , @gubetube​ , @aperrywilliams​ , @cosmic-psychickitty​ , @marleyhotchner​

[fleckcmscott]

The Find

Summary: Arthur and Y/N tidy up their wardrobe. What he comes across surprises him.

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

Words: 3,664

A/N: This request comes from Karen - it’s the first one I ever got! Thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for beta-ing and helping me improve this piece by sharing her thoughts!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

If you’ve sent me a request and I haven’t responded, it’s because I am working on it and will answer once it’s posted!

Instead of allowing a lazy Sunday, Y/N decided they needed to do a project together. She had too many clothes, she claimed. And Arthur could use some new ones. Though he disagreed with her assertion, never having owned much, he went along with it. Such suggestions were part of having a girlfriend, he'd learned. Sorting through the bedroom closet would be a couply activity, anyway.

It turned out to be nice, better than when he'd kept house alone. Her smile was infectious as they rearranged everything, and it grew each time they inadvertently bumped into each other. He succeeded in talking her out of donating a sheer blouse, insisting it looked good on her. She replaced the dry cleaner bags on his Carnival costume with zippered nylon ones. Then she retrieved a wooden box from the top shelf, sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the spot next to her.

Floral patterns were carved in its top and sides, and the center held a purple and yellow pansy, pressed under smooth glass. It was quite old, the corners worn, the front closure tarnished. The hinges released a quiet squeak as she lifted the lid. "These are my most important keepsakes," she said. Her degree was in there, the Christmas ornament her sister had made, and her divorce papers. The rose he'd brought when he'd come for dinner was now dried and delicate. And she'd held onto the cork from their first bottle of wine. The letter he'd written her after Murray was sealed in a clasp envelope to protect it.

Arthur's chest swelled. The small container resting on her lap was something she'd had long before they'd met, perhaps since she was a kid. It was astonishing he took up so much space in it. Maybe she'd like to keep one of the payment slips for the ring he was planning to give her. (They were currently tucked safely in his journal.) He wrapped an arm around her back and squeezed her to his side.

The bleating of the phone interrupted them, right when he was planting a kiss to her shoulder. "Wait for me," Y/N said. "I'll tell them to call back later." He watched as she left the room, admiring the slight swivel of her hips. After a minute, "Mabel, what's going on?" drifted in from the kitchen. Ah, her sister. That would take a while. Sighing, he stood and continued alone, hopping on the step stool and humming as he went.

The shelf was dusty. The old law books were likely from when she went to college. He flipped through a photo album and set it aside to go through with her later. In the back corner, there was a red, paper gift bag, its top neatly folded closed. When he retrieved it, the weight surprised him, and he studied it with a curious expression. She probably wouldn't be perturbed if he opened it - she'd shown him her mementos, after all. Gingerly, he took a peek.

A carton was in there, a foot long. Pictures of women in athletic gear were on the side. They were holding a white object to their elbow, their calf, their lower back. He read the sentences on the packaging carefully. "Helps relax muscles." "Relieves tension." "Soothing vibrations."

Oh. Oh. Arthur crumpled the top of the bag quickly as he giggled, his cheeks on fire.

On her radio show, Dr. Sally had said the massaging wand was revolutionary. That it helped educate women about their own bodies, learn what they liked. Y/N hadn't mentioned owning one. It would have troubled him a few months ago. His insecurities would have told him it meant he wasn't very good. That he wasn't enough for her and never would be. But because of his ongoing treatment and comfort with her, those concerns were minor today. And he was intrigued.

The women he'd pasted into his journal were often touching themselves, ecstasy clear on their faces. Even though he still found those pictures arousing, he wasn't stupid and knew they were staged. Experience had stripped away the illusion. But the thought of Y/N pleasuring herself made him shiver and lean against the closet's door frame. His mind filled with images of her sprawled on the bed, on the sofa, on the floor. The scenarios he'd pictured since they'd met were numerous. His mouth at the apex of her thighs while she tried to type papers for work. Her going down on him in the dressing room at Pogo's. Or his favorite, the one he'd gone back to most, joining with her completely as she fell apart, because of him and only him. If he asked, would she be willing to-

Upon hearing Y/N hang up, Arthur haphazardly tossed the bag back in its spot. He busied himself with the sweaters and shirts in the "keep" pile, folding and hanging them as needed. She started telling him about the call as soon as she came in. Caught between his natural bashfulness and the urge to blurt out what he found, listening was difficult.

She must have sensed something was off, because she stepped next to him and said, "You look warm."

He ducked away as she tried to feel his forehead. "I'm okay." That was only half true. It was going to take awhile for him to figure out how to express what he wanted. But he shot her a grin. "It's just a little hot in here, that's all."

~~~~~

Y/N's seamed stockings finally sent him over the edge three days later. He'd noticed them when she put on her heels at the door, and ogled her as she strode down the hallway after their longer-than-usual kiss goodbye. It was possible she simply wished to be pretty (which she always was, no matter what she had on), to be professional, to make herself feel good. Still. She knew those nylons turned him on, and he chose to believe she wore them for him.

He made a quick call to her at lunch and said he was looking forward to tonight. There was strain lurking beneath her kind tone when she asked, "Why? What's tonight?" Nothing, he clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. He just missed her. She sighed, told him her day had gone sideways, that she needed to go. But she couldn't wait to see him later and loved him.

Both to relieve his own nerves and to cheer her, he resolved to make everything perfect for her to come home to. That's why, rather than cooking together, he was stirring minestrone and adding pasta. Why he'd already set the table and put the bunch of pink carnations (her favorite) from the grocery store in the middle. Why the wine was open and ready to serve. The kitchen radio had been switched to the sixties and seventies music she preferred. He swayed along to it, even as he hoped one or two slower songs would play so they could dance.

He'd been trying to find the right way to broach the subject all afternoon. Stuttering through his request wasn't his preference. It'd be fun to be playful - if he could gather his courage. God, it would be absurd if he couldn't. Shouldn’t courage come naturally if he hoped to spend the rest of his life with this woman? "Y/N, I was wondering if you could-" Cocking his head, he tried anew. "I love you, Y/N, and I wanted to know if-" Rolling his eyes, he retrieved bowls from the cupboard. "It's your fault I can't think straight." He took a breath, stretched his arms, and tried to focus. Nothing felt right. He'd have to improvise.

The unlocking of the door and the thudding of her bag to the floor alerted him to her presence. He laughed lightly as he tested the soup, enjoying the thrill of anticipation. She approached in his peripheral vision. "Arthur, you didn't have to do all this," she murmured.

The gladness in her words made it worth the effort. He poured a glass of wine for them both. "You were having a busy day."

She took a sip and braced herself on the counter. "I had to run back and forth from the office to the courthouse. We were missing copies of motions for tomorrow's hearing. My typewriter's ribbon ran out and we didn't have any replacements." A puff escaped her before she turned to him. "But every thing’s lovely now. Come here.” She pulled him in for a kiss.

Arthur tried to pay attention while they ate; he disliked missing a moment of her. But she was already driving him to distraction. The way her lips pursed as she blew on the food before taking a bite. Her caresses to the petals of the flowers. How she kept touching his sleeve. When she untied the bow at the collar of her burgundy blouse, opened the neck to reveal the start of her clavicle, his stomach flipped. "I wanted to- to ask you a question," he said softly.

"I knew something was going on." She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "You haven't said much besides 'yeah' and 'mhm.'"

Damn. He'd tried to be normal. "Sorry." A sheepish smile crossed his face and he smoothed back his hair. "I'm a little nervous."

"You don't have to be." There was excitement in her voice, barely contained, and she scooted her chair closer. "I'm sure I'll say yes."

He quirked a brow at her. "Um, okay." A sharp exhale as he sat straighter. "I've been thinking about this a lot." His gaze darted to hers, seeing it sparkling and filled with affection, before falling to his lap. He fiddled with his spoon as he forced himself to speak. "I found something. When we were cleaning."

A pause. "What did you find?"

The wine was sharp on his tongue when he sipped it. "The massaging wand?"

The blush on her cheeks traveled to the rest of her face and she hid behind her palm. "Oh my god," she laughed.

Having the advantage wasn't usual for him in these situations. It was refreshing. Luckily, she didn't seem upset, so he continued. "Dr. Sally recommended it on her show. You're beautiful. We both might like it. I mean, I know I would, but... Would you show me?" Her quiet nagged at him, so he changed his approach. "You turn on the light every time we make love," he teased. "Don't you remember when you came home and surprised me?"

She peeked at him, the corner of her lip lifted. "It's never even occurred to me. I can't believe it occurred to you." After a few moments, she cleared her throat. "I won't lie - it's...an arousing idea. And all this," she gestured at the table as she spoke, "has made me pretty hot and bothered." Her hand went to his inner thigh, fiddling with the seam. "Though I have to admit, I was expecting you to ask something else."

His eyelids fluttered at her caress. "What?"

Grasping the tie at the front of his pants, she finished her drink. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll ask me later."

~~~~

This was happening. It wasn't his imagination. Y/N was taking a fantasy of his, one that belonged in dirty magazines, and turning it into a demonstration of her love for him. Was it weird to be moved by something this lewd? He should be ashamed to have asked her. But he wasn't. And when he felt her smile as they lay in bed, his throat tightened. Their breaths were harsh as the pearlescent buttons of her blouse opened halfway under his ministrations. A soft moan left her when he cupped her breast, tweaked its taut tip through her bra, and she yanked at his shirt until he pulled it off.

She ground against his clothed hard-on and hastily unzipped her black skirt to slip it down. He swallowed thickly, following her movements, huffing at the sight of her dark red garter belt and matching panties. It wasn't often she donned those, preferring more practical undergarments. Had she, by some means, known what he was thinking when she'd gotten dressed that morning? The notion was silly but warmed him anyway. Relieved, he groaned and reclaimed her lips.

The dance of her fingers across the lean muscles of his chest caused him to suck in air, which he held while she skimmed past his ribs to his stomach. "I haven't done this in front of anyone before," she said, a little uncertain.

Arthur chuckled, letting her take his hand and guide it between her thighs. "I hadn't, either." He pushed the cotton to the side and fondled her slit, reveling in how she bucked into his touch. It was almost enough to get him to forget the show, to forget about his plan, to sheathe himself inside her without a moment's pause.

But she grabbed the vibrator off the stand and switched it on. Its buzzing was louder than he'd presumed, like a hornet's nest. Amusement must have shown on his face, because Y/N smirked and turned the wand to a lower setting. "Remind me to plug the clock back in when we're done," she said, shedding her underwear and kicking it off her foot. He settled next to her hips, boosting himself on his elbow to see her. Shyly at first, then growing bolder, she swiped and pulled at her outer lips. They drew back as they swelled and she giggled, running the pads of her fingers over herself. "You're the only one who could persuade me to do this."

He grazed her inner thigh, the straps holding her stockings in place, and pressed a kiss to her leg, observing as she lay the massager's rounded end to her core. Even as her pelvis arched slightly to meet it, she kept it in one spot - he'd thought she would have moved it around. The heat flaring in his groin was, thankfully, lowering his inhibitions, and he found he could ask, without anxiety, "Did you do it a lot?"

"I did this more after we met." He laughed happily, realizing he'd been the cause of her increased desire. A whimper fell from her as she moved towards the vibrator again, her frame trembling. Her brows pinched with every increasing undulation of her hips. "It's been awhile. I'd forgotten-," she gasped, "-how intense this feels."

When she began writhing, he watched the sway of her breasts, straining against her bra. Her stomach was quivering with every shallow breath, and he felt his own ardor heighten with hers. He leaned forward to get a better look at her folds. But, upon finding the toy covered her completely, he furrowed his brow. And it registered that he didn't need a prop involved; he just needed her.

Gently, he caught it, waiting until she met his gaze to turn it off and put it on the bed. "You're enough," he said quietly. "If that's okay." She nodded lightly. One of her legs spread to the side, the other bent at the knee. He shuddered as she held herself open, fingers drifting over her sensitive nub. "Are you - Are you thinking about me?" Say yes. Please.

Her explorations went lower, tracing the edges of her entrance, open and waiting for him, then dipping below to gather slick on her fingertips. "Yes," she hissed, tapping her bud repeatedly. She jerked towards her hand as she bit her lip. It was enchanting, watching her play herself like a well-tuned instrument. She seemed to know exactly how to touch her own body. What pressure to apply. How fast to go...

Her breast spilled out when she pulled down the cup of her bra, her head falling back into the pillow. Her thumb teased her areola and she keened. "You're all the way inside me." Another tug to her pebbled nipple, and the hand at her vulva hastened. "Your cock feels so good, Arthur. You fill me so well."

"Y/N, god." He hadn't expected pornography to spill from her mouth. Groaning, he pushed his briefs away and gripped his erection, running his thumb along the tip as he glanced from her face to her center.

The glistening of her arousal was spreading, a spot forming on the blanket beneath her. Her cries were becoming frequent, her body tensing. Her eyes opened and went to his length. "Get in me."

That took him aback. "What?"

"Get in me. Please." He scrambled out of his underwear and knelt between her legs, positioning himself so her thighs rested on his, and he held the soft skin of her upper leg. After a couple of quick pumps, he sank into her entirely, grunting at the sight of her reddened, desperate sex welcoming him. She stroked herself, first pulling at the clitoral hood, then circling it, more frenzied with every rut.

This was far superior to any photograph, any adult film he may have caught a glimpse of. Because it was personal. She was devoted to him, and he to her. And she was repeating his name, the syllables strung together and becoming unintelligible. Soon she wailed sharply and stiffened, her pulses gripping his cock. "Fuck me harder," she whined.

His movements stilled. While he wanted to give in, he feared harming her - he was stronger than his skinniness suggested. But she begged for him again, and he couldn't resist pressing her wrists into the bed on either side of the pillow. Their kisses turned hard while she brought her trembling legs about him and he plunged into her. A wanton cry escaped with each inch she moved up the mattress, with every pound of his hips. The sear of her surrounding him was intoxicating, and he took her nipple in his mouth, laving and sucking at it. Her body grew rigid and bent into him and she moaned, her muscles clamping around him a second time.

Their intimacy had traversed the scale from slow to fast, loving to urgent. But Arthur had only been unrelenting with her once. Her enjoyment hadn't been a consideration; she’d been a means to an end that night. And the guilt he'd felt afterward had prompted him to promise himself to not be rough without her explicit permission. Seeing her trust in him in action, feeling it in the embrace of her body, pushed him forward to give into what they both craved.

He threw his head back and fucked her, up on his knees, slipping his grasp from her wrist to entwine her fingers. He held her neck and the side of her face as he mashed their lips together, losing himself in her as he increased the punishing pace of his thrusts. His motions stammered, seeking his climax, going deeper and deeper still.

With one final shove he came, emptying into her with each throb as they clung to each other. His brain was foggy with pleasure, breath ragged and panting. Vaguely, he was aware of her tight hold on his ass, as if she coveted every drop of him. As he came down from his high, the last tendrils of pleasure fading, he squeezed her hand. The kiss he gave her was tender, soft. A stark contrast from how they'd joined moments ago.

Y/N was giving him that dazed grin, the one she usually had after lovemaking. But he felt the need to check. "Did I hurt you?" Averting his eyes, he brushed his knuckles over her collarbone.

She pecked his nose and raked her nails through his hair, her look full of adoration. "You could never hurt me." A giggle bubbled up. "I do need a minute to recover, though." He stayed inside her while he softened, nestling in the crook of her neck. "I'm proud of you," she said.

His eyelids shut and a toothy grin appeared as his heart clenched. "Why?"

"You weren't afraid to ask me. Well, even if you were, you did it, anyway." Her arms wrapped about his torso and she palmed his back. "And you trusted yourself to let go."

He dragged his thumb along the faint stretch marks at her areola. While what she said was accurate, he usually liked it softer. During the periods in which his anger or despondency nearly consumed him, when he thought he might erupt, he was afraid he would lose the ability to be gentle. So far, her love and support had helped bring that tenderness back, even if it took a couple of days. He ached for that to continue. "You know, when I- when I see things that aren't there... I always say the right thing. I'm funny. I know how to do good." He took her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. "But with you it's real."

Guiding him out and off her, she turned on her side. "Because that's who you are, Mr. Fleck. Don’t forget that. I won’t." She nuzzled his nose. "How else could you have broken through my shield enough to have this ridiculous pillow talk?" He chuckled as she tugged on a curl. "I lost that part of myself for a long time," she sighed. "I'd hate to lose it again."

"I won't let that happen." He pulled her closer, caressing the edge of her garter belt. "Especially if you keep wearing these," he said lowly.

Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts flush to him. "Let's be ridiculous until we're old and gray."

"Mhm." Tears prickled but he blinked them away, managing a wide smile. It was one of her hints that she wanted to be with him forever. He prayed she would accept his proposal next week. "Only if you promise to laugh at my jokes."

Y/N traced his jawline and kissed his dark brows, her gaze shining as she gave her response. "Arthur, I'll laugh with you for the rest of my life."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @howdylilflower​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​

[spiltscribbles]

combo of 7 & 8 for pynch hehe :)

Notes: Thank you so much love!!!  |   Send Me A Prompt 

.-

“It’s the last straw! I’m done! I’m over it!” Blue stabs the spoon into her yogurt, teeth clenched, and knuckles white. Adam, like the good friend he is, just calmly slides it out of her hand and gives her a banana instead.

“She’s not that bad of a roommate,” he tells her with a one armed shrug. The look she shoots him can only be described as the personification of betrayal. Adam can’t believe it’s the third time he’s rolled his eyes at her and it hasn’t hit nine in the morning yet.

“They were naked Adam! Nude! Birthday suits!”

“The biblical state,” Henry tacks on and Blue nods along graciously.

Make it four times before nine in the morning.

“It’s Orla…. She’s eccentric

“It was on the couch! I sit on that couch Adam!” blue hits her hand against the table, fully indignant now.

“I really would recommend having it at the very least steam cleaned before partaking in that activity  again,” Henry advises sagely as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Oh no! No way! I will never sit on that couch another day of my life!”

“Glad to see you’re taking this reasonably,” Adam says, voice blithe, as he brings their cereal bowls to the sink.

“Don’t start with me Adam! You haven’t seen the things I have! The freckles and birthmarks— The hair.” Blue shutters and henry slings an arm around her slim shoulders in comfort, clucking his tongue all the while.

Fifth…. It’s been the fifth time now.

“So how do you reckon you’ll live in there without sitting on the couch ever again?” He needles with a quirked brow, fully having decided to just fall into the dramatics. It’s always easier for him at the end of the day  when just excepting it.

“I’m moving out! Duh.”

“Oo, My Blueberry is becoming her very own American woman!” Henry preens. “Let me get you a chic new outfit Sabrina style!”

“That movie is sexist and culturally appropriates middle eastern garb.” Blue sniffs.

“Good to know that the new Blue has still got all her old spunk.”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Adam tells them, lips pinched.

“We bring bursts of color into your otherwise stale existence,” Blue argues loftily.

“Ridiculous,” Adam repeats with feeling.

“Lying doesn’t become you my dear Henrietta Prince,” Henry tells him far too frankly before turning his attention back to Blue. “You know you’ve got a place here if you want it.”

“Where?” Blue snorts. “In your living room?”

“Our couch doesn’t have naked Orla germs,” Adam offers halfheartedly. 

Blue just levels him with a unimpressed look, and Adam’s got flashbacks to junior year when Maura caught the pair of them getting drunk off Persephone’s peach wine coolers.

It’s terrifying.

“Charming. But no need, I’ve already begun sifting around for places nearby that are looking for a new roommate.”

Adam takes the papers she’s already printed off and begins shuffling through them.

“This one has like five cats,” he tells her with a curled lip.

“It sounds homey.”

“You’re allergic,” Adam rebukes. 

“I’m desperate Adam!” Blue reminds him.

“This one has a picture of him wearing a MAGA hat on his facebook profile pic,” Henry informs her, holding a second listing.

“Okay not that desperate,” Blue crumples it up and tosses it to the side. Adam would tell her to throw it in the trash like an adult but reasons she’s having a moment. 

“Mmm, what about this one,” she waves around the paper and Henry takes it to look over himself.

“It’s with three random dudes.”

“Three normal looking dudes,” Blue presses. “And so to reiterate, I’m desperate.”

“Ted Bundy was a normal looking dude,” Adam charges, making Blue glare at him menacingly.

“Adam I can still see flesh in my nightmares!”

Sixth, sixth time he’s rolled his eyes. Jesus fucking Christ Adam is gonna be sent to an early grave because of  an aneurism from them.

.-

The problem is that when Blue sets her mind on something, not even the angels above can dissuade  her from it, so that’s why Adam spends his Saturday afternoon— the only one he’s had off from a shoot in literally three months— driving to some sketch apartment with her and Henry, in the latter’s abrasively flashy sports car. 

He feels like a fraud.

“Blueberry are you sure you put in the right address?” Henry asks, face scrunched in confusion once they cruise into the open parking spot in front of a dilapidated looking  manufacturing building.

Blue flickers her eyes back down towards her phone before glancing up with a sure nod. 

“Look it says Monmouth right over there on the sign near the front door. This’s the right place.” 

“Right place to get murdered,” Adam intones darkly. 

Blue only tosses him a glare before slipping out.

“Are we bad people for going along with this?” Henry asks Adam, his mouth downturned in concern.

“Nah, we were bad people long before this.” Adam assures him wryly  before following suit.

.-

“I don’t want a new roommate,” Ronan tells Gansey for the third time in the past hour. In turn, Gansey only rolls his eyes before trying to stuff the old pizza boxes into the trash can. God fucking damn it, Helen’s right, they do live like pigs.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Noah contends. “It’ll bring some new energy in this place.”

“Oy, what did I tell you about saying shit like energy and chakras.”

“That’s it’s something a douche hipster would say and you’d throw me out a window if you heard it again.”

“And yet.”

“All I can say to that is dude you need to clear your chakras.” Noah says, fully goading, and making it so an unexpected laugh tears out of Ronan, the total prick.

“For the love that is all holy and right, will you two please just attempt to act normal when she gets here.”

“It’s a girl?”

“A girl with models as friends,” Noah perks, completely beaming. “And you know what that means,” Noah winks and Ronan, for the good of the public, cuffs him on the back of the head. Hard.

“You fucking sly dog, how do you even know that?”

“Preliminary interview through the phone,” Noah shrugs. “She sounds nice, better than living with that guy with a pet snake.”

“That snake was fucking cool.” Ronan argues.

“There’s a one pet limit here, and your raven has taken the slot.” Gansey huffs, hand on his hip like Aurora would do if Ronan and Declan were being especially rowdy. “And Noah don’t ask about her model friends, that’s creepy.”

“That’s kind of my shtick man.” Noah points out, wide eyed.

“Less horror film creepy and more loser from Revenge of the Nerds creepy,” Gansey clarifies scoldingly.

Noah swallows down a lump, properly cowed.

It’s right then when the doorbell rings and Gansey frantically puts in the last of the empty cups into the dishwasher from the sink before scurrying to the doorway, Noah and Ronan on his heals.

Ronan knows he lost the battle and the war the moment the door swings open and the first thing the pixie sized, colorfully dressed girl says is a glowing “Blank 182?” While gesturing towards Noah’s… Well Noah’s everything.

Noah looks like the cat who’s gotten into the cream, Gansey looks more glowing than usual, and Ronan can’t take his eyes off the sandy haired boy she’s brought along with her.

.-

Living with Blue is a beast that Ronan can’t quite figure out how to defeat.

She, probably like any sane person, expects the house to be in some sort of semblance— aka no more jackets and other innocuous articles of clothing thrown about the shared living space, and for dishes to be rinsed after use and put into the dishwasher accordingly. 

“Your rooms can be as trashy as you want, but can we please not make the whole place a pigsty,” she had sniffed with a cocked head and jut out hip. Gansey of course nodded giddily— on account to his staring at her all moony ever since meeting her— Noah had shrugged, indifferent. But Ronan held out as long as possible, sneer on his lips. But alas, she met his every zig with a zag and he found himself in a stalemate.

But Ronan could deal with the tidiness and even the impromptu yoga sessions she holds with randoms from her classes at university. Hell he could deal with her weird obsession with Yogurt too, and can actually listen to her rants about the patriarchy and institutional blocks that keeps the impoverished and people of color and women down from being able to achieve feats once only meant for wealthy white men. Fuck, Ronan’s come to think her particular brand of spitfire humor is actually hilarious.

So yes all of this is fine. But with Blue comes them. Henry Cheng, best friend she met at some art class her freshman year. And fucking Adam Parrish, apparently someone she’s known for so long and so intimately that she refers to him as family more often than not.

And yeah. Ronan is not jealous and Noah needs to take that fucking sneer off his face.

“You’re jealous!”

“I am not jealous!” Ronan yells emphatically for the fifth time.

“Ronan has a crush!”

“Noah God so help me!” He threatens, totally venomous.

“You’re in loveee!” 

“Noah I will destroy you!”

.-

Okay so Ronan might be sorta, kinda, not jealous…. But bothered. Yes Bothered. He’s bothered because he can’t fucking figure out Blue and Adam’s deal. One second they’re sniping at one another about the economy and the next she’s lying her head in his lap while he’s carding a hand through her hair.

Fucking salacious shit.

But occasionally, on especially good days, Blue falls asleep early and instead of going back home right away, Adam stays. He stays and he shares a drink with Ronan on the porch and they talk about nothing really, but also a lot of things. Ronan find’s out he basically grew up with Blue, that she was his first everything. He’s deaf in his left ear and he didn’t mean to fall into modeling but he didn’t have enough money to finish the semester at MIT and instead of giving up he took up some side gigs which eventually culminated into a career of his own. 

Ronan finds out that Adam’s favorite flavor of ice cream is cow tracks and his front tooth is chipped from behind.  Adam has a small, crooked smile and when he laughs its more breath than sound and its absolutely lovely.

Ronan finds this all out but still has no idea whether he has a shot.

And again, he’s bothered.

.-

“I vote on something classic,” Blue tells them with a sip of her shake. (Read the shake Adam bought but Blue somehow still always drinks half of even while she complains about being on a diet, which then leads her to grouse about how Adam stays narrow and lithe even if he eats four quarter pounders back to back).

Sadly, this happened once and only once when Adam was especially stressed over a finals week and hadn’t eaten for literally three straight days. 

She really has seen him at his worst.

“Ooo, let’s watch some singing in the rain! I’m ready to belt out some toons.” Henry crows.

“Oh well if it includes your perfectly pitched singing,” Adam says flatly. Blue promptly elbow checks him and Henry waggles his tongue out.

“Sounds good to me Henry, so where?”

“Your place?” Adam says, brow kinked and trying to smother down the hopefulness in his voice. Of course, it doesn’t work. They know him better than anyone else, and they immediately stick him with matching smirks.

“Pray tell Parrish, me and you have the better entertainment system by far, and yet you’ve been insistent on heading to Blueberry’s place for our weekly movie nights for the past two months…. Hah, I wonder what two months signify?”

“Ooo ooo! I know Henry, I know!” Blue teases swinging her arm up high like an excited school girl. “I just moved into Monmouth and Then Adam over here got all slack jawed and goofily eyed over my scary roommate!”

“Blueberry gets the point!” Henry squawks, giving her a makeshift bracelet out of the straw wrapper.

Adam looks at them both with as much fury as he could muster, cheeks infused red, and jaw locked.

In retort, they only laugh ebulliently.

Adam is so tempted to make new friends.

.-

Ronan opens the door on a random Thursday afternoon a week later and Adam steels his nerves, not about to back down.

“Oh, ah Parrish.” His prominent brows furrow together, suspicious. “Maggot isn’t here yet.”

“I know,” Adam says, head tipped high. “Can I come in?”

Ronan only shrugs as he moves aside to give him the room to enter.

“You look like you have something squirming up your ass,” Ronan tells him, as blunt and as crass as ever.

Adam silently questions to the universe why is it that he’s so resoundingly attracted to him for that.

“You’re so eloquent with your words Lynch, you know that?” Adam tells him, completely flat, and making it so Ronan’s answering grin is something feral and amused.

“So you gonna just stand there looking pretty or actually get it out?”

“Jesus Christ, do you have an ounce of patience in your entire body?”

“I sweat it out at the gym, you wouldn’t know that skinny.” Ronan barbs, hip checking him while he struts to the kitchen.

Adam just glares after his form… His well built and deliciously broad shoulders.

“Still got enough muscle to beat your ass,” Adam teases and Ronan leers, impressed. Adam walks closer, magnetized. 

“So Blue’s enlightened me about something.”

Ronan hikes up a brow, betraying his mask of indifference.

“Is that right. What? Did Maggot make you understand that the hand holding and lovey-dovey looks are getting abrasive?”

Adam is utterly confused to what he’s talking about— Did he find out about the crush, and if so does that mean he’s already, wordlessly rejected Adam. Is Ronan completely uncomfortable right now.

Adam shakes off the questions, is determined to just plunge in for once in his life without beating a situation to death with analysis.

“She’s enlightened me that my crush on you is getting to ridiculous levels of yearning and i should just ask you out like an adult.”

A thousand different expressions pull at Ronan’s face until finding landing at something Adam can only call aw.

“Oh— Ah, wait. Wait do you like me?”

Adam rolls his eyes heavenwards. God he really is going to get an aneurysm.

“You are such a doofus,” Adam sighs before inkling his head forwards and kissing Ronan senseless.

Ronan grabs his head and presses impossibly closer.

.-

Later that night, when Henry and Blue march in with the decided upon movie they both begin to preen at the sight of them, exchange bills with Noah and Gansey too.

Again, Adam is going to be sent to an early grave. But hey, if in the meanwhile Ronan does that thing with his tongue, Adam will at least enjoy his final earthly days.

[roseelise]

The Weather // Dylan O’brien

Reposting all my writings from @r0s3mm, my main blog, it is not stolen or plagiarized. All my works on my masterlist are main unless stated otherwise.

Hello! Welcome to 2-h, the back up account of @r0s3mm, I’ll be posting my works on here too until (hopefully) my blog gets restored and if not this will become my main blog.

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x ofc!Alice

Word Count: 5129

Author’s note/warnings: break up? Swearing? Reader and Dylan talking about their relationship, a series of voicemail reader sends Dylan at different moments after their relationship ends.

Based off of the song: Lawrence - “The Weather”

Come say “Hi!” Wattpad

Masterlist

***********************

“Hey D’, it’s me, leaving you a message on your voicemail… again. Listen, I know we agreed to give each other space but I just wanted to let you know that your change of address probs didn’t go through because I got your new script at home- hum, at my place. I’ll just send it to Liz’s office… Oh, also I wanted to know if you wanted me to box up and send you the rest of the stuff you have here, there’s a few sweatshirts and other clothing items, as your mom would say. Okay, so you don’t have to call me back, you can text me, maybe even email me. I can leave your stuff at your mom’s house, I’m seeing Jules on the 23rd, so yeah … whatever you feel good with. Ok, bye.”

“I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together ‘Cause even when the sky is grey, I’m feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you”

I hung up the phone and placed it in my jeans’ back pocket and turned up the volume from the TV.

“A heatwave this week turned the city of Anaheim, home to Disneyland, into the hottest place in theUnited States. The Tick fire forced 50,000 people to flee their homes, many in the mid…” The weather man on the tv announced as I picked up the package with Liz’s name on it from a tv or movie set in LA, taking back my cell phone, I texted Liz, Dylan’s manager telling her I’d be sending her the script in the next few days, putting the block of pages on the bench next to the front door, I sat down next to it as the news kept playing as a background noise accompanied by the rain falling down harshly on the large windows.

It had been a little bit over 5 months and I still hadn’t tidy up from his big move, a lot of empty and piled up boxes were on the floor next to the sliding door, there were empty spaces on the wall and people who would be coming in the apartment could easily guess that the large white wall used to be full, filled with baseball jersey’s, many pictures, music record, stickers of liquor brand, some posters and a few music instruments.

“Hi Jules, it’s me, are we still on for the 23rd? Ok great then, I’ll pick you up. You got any news from your brother? Yeah, I know, I asked you to refuse if I asked but I just wanna make sure that with his new place he’s good and away from the fires and that he’s … that he’s safe y’know? Ok great then, just maybe tell him to- actually you know what? Never mind. I gotta go, but I’ll text you this week… alright bye!”

“There’s a fire in LA Since you moved there back in May I wonder, should I call to see if you’re alright? Yeah, you’re a million miles away But I still think of you each day And hope the weather doesn’t keep you cold tonight”

After picking up what was on the floor and actually tidying up the apartment, I put on my rain boots with my coat and an umbrella before going out the door with the trash and some things that I wanted to get rid of. I walked the streets of the city, listening to the chaotic sounds, the loud voices and the fast steps of those who wanted to escape the rain. Walking to the Blue Ribbon Brasserie, I turned left to get to Sullivan St and passed the convenience store and got myself a few stamps and envelopes for the thank you notes I still had to write after the home warming gifts I received a while back. I put my earphones in my ear as I gave the cashier the money and put everything in my purse. As I entered the restaurant, I took off my coat and held it tightly against me, my eyes falling on a couple sitting at the bar, both a drink in hand and completely enamored with each other.

“Table for one miss?” The host asks taking a menu.

“Yes, thank you.” I smiled at the young man.

I followed him to a table near the windows. He pulled my chair for me to sit. I smiled at him and thanked him.

“What would you like to start with?”

“Glass of white wine, if you have it. Actually no, I’ll get a G&T, please”

“Right away, ma’am” The waiter’s New Yorker accent came through and I smiled at him as I picked up the menu and swiftly looked through it, already knowing what I wanted to eat as soon as I had left my apartment.

The rain was still pattering against the window and it gave a nice ambient sound to the restaurant that for once was almost empty on a Monday afternoon. A few minutes later, the waiter came back with my drink, putting a squared napkin underneath.

“Would you like to order now, or would you like a few more minutes?”

“I’ll order now, thank you. So, I’ll get the chicken barley soup with the steak, please.”

He smiled, took the menu from my hands and left to another table. I watched the other waiters walk around with platters of food as people started to come in. Usually the restaurant would be busy from opening to the time it closed but today felt different. I held the glass in my hands as I sipped it slowly taking the wedge of lime off of it and biting into it and letting it drop on the piece of paper after draining it of its juice.

As the waiter approached my table and put my soup down my phone’s screen lit up with Dylan’s name and contact photo. I had taken the picture when we were out one day and waiting to cross the street. My finger swiped the screen to answer.

“Ali? Hey, it’s Dylan…” His voice rang through my ear, it was hoarse and dry. He had been smoking.

“Yeah, I know. Your contact info popped up.” I said, silently slurping my soup.

“Oh, wasn’t sure if you had gotten rid of it. Hum, I- I thought it’d be better to call you rather than text you and I don’t even know the last time I sent an email that wasn’t for work.” He chuckled quietly but didn’t hear a sound from the other side. “So, for my stuff you can keep it, I won’t really need it, but if you really wanna get rid of it, I can transfer you the money for the delivery and stuff. It-It’s however you want it.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll send it to you or Liz, I wanna start over with a clean slate. I also found a few caps of yours earlier when I was cleaning up, so I’ll send those over as well.” I said finishing the rest of my soup. It was silent on the other side of the line for a few seconds before I heard him sigh.

“A, maybe we should talk? Y’know, actually have a conversation. The only times we’ve talked in the past few months were through voicemail and-”

“Sounds good Dylan, just right now isn’t the right moment. I’m out at a restaurant and I don’t think I can actually do this right now and in public.” I said dryly my voice full of emotion. A waiter came to pick up the now empty bowl and I smiled up at him.

“Yeah okay. Is everything good up there? Are you feeling good?”

“Yep, I’m fine, we’re all fine.”

“That’s good. I feel a bit far away from everyone, y’know ?!”

“Yeah, are- are you okay? I’ve seen the news on the TV about the fires. I was worried.” I said the last part quietly.

“I’m fine too, yeah, you don’t have to worry. Pretty sure Jules or my mom would have rung you up if something had happened.”

“Yeah probably…” I whispered. “Did you start smoking again? Your voice sounded funny when I answered.” I said catching the eye of the waiter that was bringing me my steak. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, miss. Hope you’ll enjoy” The small exchange between the waiter and I was soon over, and I picked up a fry.

“Yeah, a little. It was weird being in LA, felt nervous at first and I couldn’t shake it after. Are you at Blue Ribbon?”

“You were nervous? Dyl’ you’ve been to LA a hundred times for filming and shit and yeah I am.” I said, picking at the veggies in my plate.

“I never actually lived there for more than four or five months, and usually I’m not alone.”

“Don’t.” I said loudly, I lifted my head and looked at other costumers. “Listen I gotta go.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to-”

I hung up and went to eat my dinner and finishing my drink quickly. After paying my bill, I put my coat back on, the weather would be a little chillier than earlier. Halloween was approaching and carved in pumpkins were starting to make an appearance on people’s doorstep and balconies. The rain from earlier had stopped and had been replaced by clouds and sun light.

“So, I won’t talk about the weather No, I won’t talk about the weather I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together 'Cause even when the sky is grey, I’m feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you”

Music was playing loudly in the apartment, the vacuum loud over it and it felt as if the sun had disappeared from the sky. Halloween was even closer now, only 8 days away. I checked the time, 10:37, Jules would be here in just under two hours. There were two boxes full of clothes, pictures, sports’ games tickets and damaged drumsticks, that I will have to leave in Jules’ car at the end of the day. The two of us had planned to get lunch and then hang out. She told me that some of our friends and her were planning a Halloween party and that they insisted that I come “You gotta get out of your hiding place, Alice!” They had screamed at me through the phone almost a month ago. Even if the weather wasn’t really great, Julia insisted we leave her car at my place and walk.

I had gotten ready slowly, music still blasting through the small speaker when it suddenly stopped. Thinking it was Julia texting me she had arrived I jogged to get to my phone in the other room, it was the other O’Brien child.

“Hello?” I answered the phone, putting it on speaker while I walked back to the bathroom to finish brushing my teeth. “Ali, are you busy? I tried calling you a couple times.” I looked at the screen where I had missed a few phone calls. “M’getting ready to spend the day with your sister actually. Can you make it quick?” I said spitting in the sink and rinsing my mouth. “I just wanted to know if right now would be a good time to have that conversation I talked about last week…?” I stopped and looked at my phone and sighed. “Your sister’s supposed to pick me up in ten minutes, think you can finish in ten minutes?” A silence was heard before light chuckling and I swear I could picture in my mind how he looked in that exact moment. “What?” “‘Nothing. Look, why don’t we try to set up a date and time for us to talk? I think it’d be good. Maybe clarify things up a bit.” “Yeah sure.” The doorbell buzzed, I sighed, picked up the phone putting it against my ear and taking it off speaker mode. “Listen Jules here and I’ve- wait a sec” I told him before shooting Julia a one letter text to tell her I was on my way and putting on my shoes and coat. “Ok, so your sister’s here. I gotta go but if you call me back tonight at around 5, your time I should be back home and mentally prepared to have that conversation you want us to have.” I locked my door and ran down the steps to stop in front of the blue car with my friend resting against it, excitedly waving at me, I walked to the car. “So, I really gotta leave now, but don’t think I’m excited about this. I’m doing this for you.” “I don’t want to make you do this if you’re not ready A’.” He says, guilt overflowing the other emotion in his voice. “It’s fine, I’ll talk to you tonight.” I hung up and put my head in my hand, scratching my hairline and walking the rest of the distance to Jules.

“So, I won’t talk about the weather No, I won’t talk about the weather I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together And it’s hard to say if we will ever be But I’ll admit my greatest fear is that The air will never clear So I just wish we could talk like you and me”

“Who was that?” Jules asked me as we started walking towards the larger and busier streets. “Damn you, O’Brien’s.” I mumbled as I pulled her into a greeting side hug. “Oh my god, was it Dylan? Are y’all talking again?” She was too excited for her own good. “Not really, I just wanted to know what he wanted me to do with the stuff of his left at the apartment and he started saying how we should talk about what happened.” “Yeah, I’m not still a hundred percent clear on that, by the way. I don’t think any of us expected you guys to break up after 4 years.” “Don’t remind me, please” I begged as I opened the door to the small café.

When we entered, I looked around for either an empty table or counter seats. I nudged Jules and pointed to a small table at the very back near the window and looked at her, watching for an answer.

“Sure.” She shrugged and took a newspaper off the stand we were standing next to.

We sat down and she opened the menu, looking through it as a woman brought us glasses of water.

“Hello ladies, how are you today?” “We’re good, Jane, thanks.” I asked sipping the iced water. “What about you?” Jules asked putting the cardboard menu down. “Oh, I am very good thank you” She said a huge grin on her face as she extended her left hand, on it a very beautiful diamond engagement ring. “You are fucking kidding me! Oh, my fuck!” Jules exclaimed jumping up and down. She and Jane were college friends, I had met her through Jules at a party a few years back. “Congratulations Jane!” I said leaning in for a hug and sitting back down.

Jane and Jules were standing up and talking in loud whispers as to not fully disturb the other customers. I picked up my cell phone and opened the messages app and clicked on Dylan’s conversation as a reflex before making the screen turn black and setting it back on the table.

“Hey Alice, I haven’t seen much of you in the past two months, but you and Dylan are so invited! Maybe you’ll be in my situation in a few months!” She said cheery, my head snapped up at the mention of my ex-boyfriend and I looked at Jules.

“What? What did I say?” Jane looked back and forth between us. “Y’know when I told you that my brother went to L.A to film a new project?” Jane nods, “Well it wasn’t fully true, yes he is filming something, but he also moved to L.A” Jane’s eyes go from Jules to me. “Dyl and I broke up 5 months ago …” I said picking my phone up again to play with something. Anxiety filling my body and making my fingers shake at the mention of the break-up.

The waitress just sits down next to me and pulls me to her and squeezes me telling me encouraging words before she is called back to the counter.

“The usual?” She asks and Jules and I nod with a smile. “I think we’ll take it to go, if you don’t mind.” Jules says as she finishes her glass of water, Jane’s eyes go over one last time before going to the kitchen.

When we leave the little café/diner we decide to walk through a park that’s nearby, eating our paninis and drinking our mango and strawberry smoothies.

“Hey,” Jules nudges me. “They added something to your bag…” I look at her a put my hand in the bag. “It’s a muffin?” Jules says unsure. “What?” My word stays stuck in my throat. “Pretty fucking sure Janey didn’t tell Henry that Dylan and I were broken up” “Henry? The cook?” I nod and put the muffin back in the paper bag. “Yeah, hum, when Henry started working there Dyl and I went there to get you a smoothie and Henry was there and he just started hitting on him and like he knew that we were together but I guess it was a running gag between them and whenever I went Henry would put a muffin in the bag for your brother with a note” I laugh remembering the memory. “Once,” I laugh stopping us from walking further. “Dylan went to pick up our order to bring back to his apartment, before we moved in, and he actually gave Henry his number … Anyway, yeah.”

Jules looks at me and pulls me to her side as I hold the bag tightly. “You miss him, huh?”. I put my head on her shoulder, “you’ve got no fucking idea”

We keep walking and talking, and I can see that she is trying really hard to change my ideas. We go into stores and try on stuff without buying anything, we just spend an afternoon hanging out and it feels so good.

At around seven thirty we part, and we walk back to my apartment, I put the boxes that I left in the lobby in her car and wave her off. Clutching the paper bag, I grab my keys from my coat’s pocket, unlock the main door before going to the building’s mailboxes, gathering my mail and going through the lobby’s door to wave to Sam, the receptionist, before going up the stairs since the elevator hasn’t been fixed in 4 months. As I get onto my floor, I wave at my neighbor who exits his apartment as he looks at my door. I turn the corner and see that my door is opened, fearing the worst I grab a baseball bat sitting near the door that my father forgot last weekend when he came over. I hear soft music coming from the record player sitting in the living room, the smell of ham and cheese stuffed chicken filled the place and for a moment I thought my mother had come to New York … I entered the kitchen with the bat lowered down knowing who was in my apartment from the humming they made.

“I made dinner” Dylan says turning around and leaning his back on the counter, he pushes himself off of the counter.

“I can see that.” I huff out not looking at him. “What are you doing here?” I ask him, putting my coat on the back of the chair and my purse on the table.

“I- I wanted to talk.” He says taking a step towards me.

“Yeah, I know I was about to call you … We said we would talk tonight, on the phone” He nods slowly and turns around to put food in two plates. He hands me one and gesture for me to sit.

“I’m not a fan of phones.”

“Yeah I know that, we could’ve facetimed or something.” I pick at my Brussel sprouts, usually loving the way he made them, but seeing here tonight caught me off guard.

I actually look at him for the first time tonight, he hasn’t changed that much, his hair is a little bit longer though, he is hungrily eating the food and nervously keeps his head down.

“What happened?” He suddenly says, his head lifting and eyes connecting with mine. I take in a short breath and can’t look away.

“What?” I shake my head and look down. I stand up and put as much distance between him and I as physically can while still being in the same room.

“What happened between us?”

“I can’t say that I honestly know. We weren’t on the same path; we didn’t want the same things … I don’t know” I mumble picking and my chewed-up nails, a habit I had taken up from him.

“Ok so why didn’t work, it’s not distance because god knows we’ve done that before, none of us were unfaithful” I grimace at the thought of him with another woman and look at him, he notices, and pain quickly passes behind his hazel eyes. “I- I don’t think, hope not, we’ve fallen out of love… So, what happened Al’?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say right now, showing up at my apartment at fucking 8 …” I say my voice low and full of emotions.

“We agreed to talk” He says standing up and talking another step closer.

“I agreed to talk to you on the phone because even if it’s been five months, I can’t look at you right now!” I say looking at the shirt he’s wearing

“Did you send my stuff yet?” He asks changing the subject and taking another step, now only at an arm’s length from me.

“I actually gave the boxes to Jules earlier. Left em’ in the lobby and gave them to her when she left.” He nods silently, turns around before starting to put away the food, knowing we probably would not be eating tonight. The domestic choreography started as we moved around each other with ease and habit, but I still tried to keep a distance between us. Without having to consult each other I bent down to a cupboard to grab a few Tupperware’s and set them on the counter as he passed me the now empty pots and pans ready to be rinsed off. While we were quietly washing the dishes, the music in the back changed, but still fit the ambiance perfectly. He walked to the furthest and lowest cupboard where the large serving plates used to be and opened it to now find the spices.

“You changed the plates?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Hum, yeah didn’t have much of a choice, I couldn’t reach the spices from where they were, and I don’t use the serving plates all that much.” I shrug as he picks up the utensils and dries them off. He walks around me to the drawer where they’ve always been and opens it slowly, his hand supporting underneath.

“Oh no, I got fixed, it’s fine”

“Oh okay… Did your dad came all the way from Oregon or did hum…?” He asks and I smile at what he’s really asking me.

“No, I actually asked Pat to come over a month ago, he repaired a few things here and there” I smile warmly at him and his expression that went from sad to relieved.

“You- you called my dad?” He asks as he turns around to look at me and rests against the counter.

“I mean, yeah, is that okay?” I ask him, giving him a pot to dry off.

“Of course, yeah, no- no worries, heh.” He chuckles. “I’m just happy you guys stayed in contact. They adore you, y’know, my parents. Almost like a second daughter.”

“Well that’s just wrong” I mumble quickly my eyes large, falling back into the familiarity that is Dylan.

“What why?” He asks

“That would make us “brother and sister”” I finish washing the last dish and hand it to him.

“Oh yeah, so wrong. So, fucking wrong” He says under his breath and I laugh a little as I help him put away the plates. I open a cupboard and look up to see that it is far beyond my reach and I make a noise that attracts his attention. “Oh wait, I’ll get it” He says before taking large strides towards me. I quickly move to the side and put the plate on the counter so that he can pick it up.

We finish putting everything away in silence and I go sit on the couch as he washes his hands. A few seconds later he joins me and sit on the other side of the couch. Tears pool at my eyes and I sniffle, I can feel his eyes on me, I hear him shift on the couch, so his front was towards me.

“No, I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together But I wonder if we’re ever really through 'Cause if we’re talking about whether You and I shouldn’t be together Oh, I know I’ll always be in love with you Oh yes, I know I’ll always be in love with you”

“It hurts so much” I whimper as I wipe away a tear that’s fallen on my cheek. “I don’t know what fucking happened. We didn’t get to talk, we-“

I freeze when I feel him starting to get closer to wipe away more tears that are now falling down my neck. I nuzzle my head into his large hand.

“I’m so sorry, for everything” He says his face in my hair.

“Don’t. It is not your fault. No, the situation was not ideal you having to leave for filming after the initial event, but it is not your fault. I think we just thought we were untouchable.” I say never facing him, my eyes fixed on the stickers stuck on the wooden table.

“But still, if I hadn’t talked about me moving back to L.A we could’ve talked and work things out.”

“Stop it.” I lick my lips attracting his eyes to the area as I turn to really look at him for the first time in months. “Dylan, it is not your fault, we had a weakness, we miscommunicated something got lost in what we told each other. I feel like I might’ve thought I was ready to leave the city to go to L.A but I wasn’t and maybe-“

“Say it again.” He suddenly says, cutting me off in my version of the events.

“What? Say what?”

“Say my name again, please.” His ton is full of hope and desperate at the same time.

I lock eyes with him and chuckle.

“Dylan” I enunciate each syllable.

“God. I missed you” He says, tears filling his eyes.

He grabs me by my waist and pulls me on his lap.

His face nuzzles itself in my neck and I feel a single tear rolling down my neck followed by a few soft kisses.

“I just got used to you not being there and knowing you wouldn’t come back. I didn’t like that.” I mumble against his temple. “Don’t say that. You know I’ll always come back to you.” He takes my hand in his and kiss the silver band around my pointer finger.

We part and I just stare at him, his eyes fall on me with the softest look I have ever seen.

“You almost didn’t come back once” I say softly thinking back on probably the hardest year of my life. My finger tracing the soft and ragged scar on his forehead and nose area, his eyes close at the sensation of my finger going around his face.

“I know. But baby I swear to you, you are stuck with me until the day I die, even then.” “Yeah okay, I’d be cool with that. But I want to take things slow. You have to go back to L.A for a few months.” “As soon as I’m finished over there I’m coming home.” He smiles at me and I stand up quickly from his lap and walk over where I put my stuff when I came in. “Oh my god I forgot.” I say quickly grabbing the object and walking back to him and plopping myself hard on his lap. “What’s that?” He looks at me with a smile. “It’s an impromptu welcome home gift, it might have gone stale a little though.” I give it to him and pull his face to kiss his moles that I missed oh so badly.

He opens the brown bag and puts his hand in and gets out a blueberry muffin.

“Oh Henry! My man” He says as he splits it in two and share half with me.

___________________________________

The morning after, I wake up at 9:45 in my bed, alone. I squeeze my eyes shut, not believing that I actually dreamt this whole thing. I check my phone to see if I have any messages and only one from Julia saying that she would be at my place around 11. As I text her to bring the boxes back I hear my bedroom door open and a smile stretches on my lips as I turn around to see Dylan walking in with freshly made hot cocoa and buttered toast.

“Oh, you’re too good to me, O’Brien” I smile and lean against him as he sits on the bed. “What makes you think that’s yours? You’ve got the good homemade bread and I fucking missed it” He says taking a bite.

Seeing him bite into the grilled piece of bread I only think of his lips.

“Dylan?” I say grabbing his face in my hand. “Hmm?” He swallows his piece of toast. “What’s up.” “You haven’t kissed me yet. I didn’t get to kiss you welcome back. Please, do it” I say in the most desperate tone I’ve ever heard myself talk. “Anything for you my love” He leans in and kiss me.

(ALSO HIS FUCKING TONGUE OMF)

[avengerscompound]

Swipe Right - Chapter 3

Swipe Right: A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous | Next For your POV

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

Word Count:  2100ish

Warnings:  None for this chapter.

Synopsis:   Steve comes to your house to cook and watch movies on your second date.

A/N:  Re-uploading from @emilyevanston.  

THERE ARE IMAGES IN THIS FIC THAT ARE ESSENTIAL TO THE STORY.

Chapter 3

Steve felt like he was walking on air on his way back down to the subway station.  He had really enjoyed spending time with you and the thought of a casual dinner at home with you without all the eyes sounded perfect.  He made it down the stairs to the platform just as the train pulled away.  That was not nearly enough to change his mood.

He did wonder about the kiss.  He was glad you’d kissed his cheek, but he still kept thinking he should have gone for more.  That things were different now.  That he had to stop taking to long to make a move on people.  He pulled out his phone as he waited and texted you.

Those few words made a wave of relief wash over him.  You trusted him to trust himself.  You’d just taken the pressure off.  If he needed to go slow you would be there setting the pace with him.

Something shifted between the two of you too as you spoke for the next week.  Along with the usual comfort you had together through the screen there was now a buzz.  An excitement that this could be more.  That it was real.  There was an excitement about taking what seemed to be there through the screen and bringing it into the real world.

Often conversion turned to the upcoming date.  It was on both of your minds a lot and Steve really enjoyed stripping off his uniform at the end of the day and just going through plans with you. It set his mind at ease and gave him something to look forward to.  Food plans were made and you settled on watching a movie.  He had told you to choose a film.  He was interested to see what you would settle on.  It would be a good way of seeing the person you were, and how you saw him.

You spoke about other plans too.  Each conversation increased Steve’s excitement.

Steve pondered the question.  He pictured the two of you together cooking and he liked the way it felt.  He’d never really gotten the hang of cooking though.  Food was scarce growing up and cooking involved boiling.  The fact there was a cafeteria at the tower saved him a lot of effort.

Steve smiled at his phone, loving that you had the options already thought out like that.  That you wanted him to be as comfortable as he could be in your home.

He laughed at your teasing.  He liked the playful undertone.  For the first time in a long time, his mind actually flicked to sex in a way that wasn’t just abstract.  He imagined kissing you up against the kitchen bench and something else stirred in him.  Something he had thought had died with him in the ice.

He stared at his phone for a moment with a smile on his face before putting it away.  When he looked up he realized that Sam had been staring at him the whole time.

“Damn, you have it bad.”  He teased.

Steve nodded.  “I’m not even going to argue with you.  I really like this woman.”

“I’m really glad man.  Just… and I can’t believe I’m the one suggesting this, but don’t rush.  You still have to get to know each other in person.”  Sam said getting up and patting Steve on the shoulder.

On the day of the date, he went out to a nearby bakery to buy dessert.  He settled on a chocolate babka and on the way home he passed a florist.  He looked at the different bouquets and settled on one of daisies dotted with brightly colored pom-pom chrysanthemum.  He liked how it looked a little wild yet innocent.

After work, he showered and dressed and grabbed the dessert, wine, and flowers before texting you.

He felt his face flush.  There was something about you that made him blush a lot.  If it was anyone else he’d hate it.  There was no way Tony would let him get away with bushing.  With you though, he wasn’t bothered at all.

It took him about half an hour to get there and when you answered your door you smiled brightly up at him.  Wow, these are beautiful.”  You said taking them.  “Let me just go find something to put them in.”

He followed you into your apartment and took in your room.  You’d obviously cleaned.  A lot.  He took in your photos and knickknacks.  The rug you had over your couch.  The way you’d laid out your room.  Each thing telling him a little more about you.  “Your place is really nice,”  Steve said following you inside.  “Do you rent?”

You laughed.  “Yes.  Who can afford to own in New York?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised people can afford to rent in New York,”  Steve replied.

He watched you dig around in your cupboard and pull out a glass.  You added water to it and put the flowers inside, before putting the glass on the window sill.  You turned back to him and grinned.  “Okay.  So.  I already did the rice because it’s supposed to be cool.  And I fried some egg.  Now we just have to cut things up and try and assemble them.”

“Alright, show me what to do,”  Steve said, rolling up his sleeves.

Steve really enjoyed assembling the sushi with you despite the fact he couldn’t seem to get it to work.  The chopping bit was fine.  He was good with a blade after all.  It was rolling them that didn’t seem to work.  They wouldn’t stick and as soon as he unrolled the mat they just unwound with it.

“I really have no idea what I’m doing wrong.”  He said looking at you for help.

You started giggling.   There was something about the sound that made him feel like this was exactly how it should be.  Just having fun and not taking it seriously.  “It’s fine.  Really.  Look.”  You said pulling his chopping board over.  You grabbed your knife and chopped everything up so it was just a complete mess of ingredients and then scooped them into a bowl.  “There you go.  Now it’s just a rice bowl.  It’ll still taste good.”

Steve laughed, though he could feel his face flush a little again.  “Tasting good is the most important part I suppose.”

“Here,”  You said, picking up one of your wonky Maki Rolls and raising it to his lips.  He opened his mouth ready for you to put it in and you shoved the whole thing inside.  He made an exaggerated choking sound and you both broke down in laughter.

“Mmm… good.”  He said through his still full mouth.  It was true though.  Even though they were wonky it tasted good.

“Okay.  Let’s take what we have and go watch the movie.”  You said.

He nodded and helped you gather everything up.  As you lay things out on the coffee table Steve poured you both a glass of wine.  “So what are we watching?”

“I have three options.  Two classics.  One I just haven’t seen so it’s a risk.  First up, this is an animation from my childhood.”  You said handing him your copy of the Last Unicorn.  “Here we have a musical I thought you might like.”  You said putting a copy of Into The Woods on top of the first one.  “And finally, we have Rampage.  Which is based on a video game where you play as a monster and smash building and eat people.   It has the Rock in it.  I have no idea if it’s good or not.”

Steve took it and added it to his small pile.  Flicking from one to the next.  He was really mostly tempted to watch the two older movies to see what it was you had chosen specifically to show him.  In the end, the call of the musical won.  He always liked a musical.   “How about the musical?”  He said handing you ‘Into the Woods’.

“Fine choice.”  You said getting up and putting the disk into the machine.

You watched the first half of the movie sitting side by side and making your way through your meal.  The second half you sat cross-legged beside him as he lounged back more into the couch.  You both randomly tore pieces of Babka off and ate them, or topped up each other's wine glass.  He could tell you were getting tipsy and for the first time in a long time regretted that the alcohol had no effect on him.  He liked the movie though.  It was modern and funny while calling back to more classic stories.  He liked the humor in it and the spin on the old stories.  He loved the quote ‘Nice is different to good’ particularly.

“I really liked that,”  Steve said moving to tidy things up with you as the credits to the movie started.  “Good choice.  Now I'm interested to see what the one that was a childhood favorite was.”

“Well, it’s still relatively early if you wanted to make this a movie marathon.”  You suggested.

He smiled at you.  He was glad for the offer.  He wasn’t at all ready to end the night.  “I would love that.”

The two of you settled back onto the couch and put on ‘The Last Unicorn’.  Once again Steve relaxed back into the couch and you sat with your legs tucked up beside you.  As it moved on it was like there was a magnetic pull between you and you ended up curled into his side with his arm around you.  It felt good. He loved the way you felt nestled into his side.  Warm and soft against him.

As the movie ended he gave you a little squeeze before stretching.  “God, that was sad.  You really watched that as a kid?”

“Sure did.  It has a happy enough ending.”  You said.

“Being the last of your kind is very real, let me tell you,”  Steve said.  He’d tried to make it in an offhand way but realized there was a dark undercurrent to the words as they left his mouth.

You looked up at him and smiled.  “Well, maybe you’ll find them again too.”

“Getting there.”  He agreed.  He stretched again and sat forward.  “I should probably get going.”

You nodded and stood and he got up behind you.  “Thank you for coming.”  You said as you walked him to the door.

“Thank you for having me,”  Steve said.  He turned to you at the door and smiled.  “I had a really good time.  We should do it again soon.”

“I would love that.”  You agreed.

He looked down at you.  The darkness he’d just brought to the surface seemed to take away the moment and he didn’t feel right kissing you now though even half an hour earlier it would have been perfect.  He leaned down and pecked your cheek.

“Good choice.”  You teased running your hand along his forearm.

“Thank you.”  He said, blushing yet again.  Once again your reassurance making him feel much better about it.  “Good night.”

“Night, Steve.  Text me when you get home.”  You said.

He headed to the stairs feeling better already, he turned back and smiled at you.  “I’ll text you on the train.”

[subrosacapulet]

A Night All Alone

Parties: Rosaline Lovell, mentions of Tru Lovell, Sin Grey, Ava Grey and Posey Capulet Date: Evening, Saturday 1st December to Early Morning, Sunday 2nd December Location: Tru & Rosaline’s home Summary: Rosaline the devoted submissive with abandonment issues Triggers/Other Notes: Read {this Tru post} first for context

“Please let me know everything's alright Thinking about you, though you're out of sight Every night, when I'm turning in, my tears find me. Please hurry, dear, come back and rescue me”

Flag in the Ground - Sonata Arctica

Rosaline had raced home after her rehearsals had finished for the day, she still felt incredibly guilty about leaving Tru to sort out the business and the brothel by herself but the Domme had been adamant about the submissive continuing her rehearsals and putting in the best performance she could.  She called out expectantly as she entered their home but got no response, Tru must be out somewhere.

She probably shouldn’t have been surprised by that, Tru was determined to keep the business running even without the brothel building being available and Rosaline understood that would probably take a lot of work and would involve a few late nights.  The best thing she could do was to be as supportive as possible and make things as easy as she could when Tru got home.

The submissive started by giving everything that needed it a quick clean or tidy up.  She had gotten out of her messy habits upon moving in with Tru but the past few days had seen their stress levels rise and their time cut very short so a few things had been brushed aside as unimportant.  With the house returned to it’s usual standard Rosaline checked her phone - there were no messages from Tru but it also wasn’t overly late yet.  She didn’t send a message as she knew having a needy submissive constantly messaging during a scene with a client was never a good look.

Rosaline’s lip curled up on one side into her playful smirk as an idea struck her.  She lifted her phone but not to call Tru - instead she ordered from the Domme’s favourite takeaway thinking either Tru would arrive before it or she could keep it heated for the time it would take for her to arrive.  With the order placed Rosaline scrambled around the kitchen and laid the table, adding some candles as a finishing touch.  She also set up the stereo to play a playlist of Tru’s favourite songs so that all she had to do was press play when the Domme returned.

Whilst waiting for either her Mistress or the food to arrive the young performer practiced some of the dance moves she had been struggling to remember, counting steps until she had mastered them and then softly humming the song she would be singing at the same time.

A knock on the door signalled the arrival of food so Rosaline bounded to the door to accept the delivery, tipping the driver before he left.  The submissive put the oven on a very low heat and transferred the food to plates so they would be instantly ready upon Tru’s return.  Her hand rose to touch the smaller, more discreet collar she wore for performances and she pouted to herself.  It was a very pretty collar and she loved it, but it wasn’t her main one and she was starting to feel antsy without the familiar weight around her neck.

Rosaline returned to her phone to find she still had no messages, it was getting late now and she would normally have heard something so she sent a quick message to Tru, trying to toe the line between revealing her plan with the food and making sure the Domme knew to hurry.  The message read: “I’m just planning some dinner Miss, do you know about when you’ll be home?  I miss you already.  Love Starling x”

Sliding the phone into the back pocket of her jeans she then went to lay down in the middle of the living room floor, which was one of her favourite places to practice, and began practicing her scales.  The lack of buzzing in her back pocket was starting to get to her but she focused on her practicing until her worry really started to kick in.

Sitting up she pulled her phone back out of her pocket - still no response.  Her fingers quickly tapped out another message.  “Are you ok Miss?  It’s getting late and I’m starting to get a bit worried, please just let me know you’re alright.  Love you, Starling <3”

Rosaline took a deep breath, she was probably overreacting but the fire at the brothel had jarred her nerves and coupled with the fact it was the second Montague business to go up in flames she was more jittery and making sure she was aware of the safety of those she cared about to a higher level than normal.  She went through to the kitchen and turned the oven down, cooking wasn’t her forte at all but she was sure a lower heat would still mean the food would be edible and not need completely reheating.

At a loss for what to do the submissive moved to the hallway and sat down, crossing her legs under her and placing her phone face up in front of her.  She would be the first thing Tru would see when she got home and she hoped that would cheer the Domme up after what was clearly becoming a long and stressful day.  She hadn’t looked at the time when she sat down so she had no idea if it had been minutes or hours before she picked up her phone.  This time she called Tru - and felt her stomach drop and hit the floor as Tru’s familiar reassuring voice told her to leave a message.  “Hi Miss,” she began awkwardly, “I just want to make sure you’re ok.  I know you’re probably busy but… please just let me know.  I’m worried… … I love you.”

With her worry kicking into overdrive now, the concerned submissive began pacing up and down the hallway, constantly glancing down at her phone and willing it to light up with a response of any kind.  She knew there was no point in calling the brothel reception, which she would normally do if she needed to know timings for Tru’s appointments - normally for surprise visits or flower deliveries so she called Sin.  He hadn’t heard from her either but reassured Rosaline that Tru had probably just lost track of time during some boring contract negotiation for the rebuilding of the business.

Feeling slightly better Rosaline had thanked Sin and gone to lay down on the sofa.  In an attempt to distract herself from her worries she turned on the tv and instantly put on a Star Wars film just to have familiar background noise.  She began scrolling through her Instagram feed and wondered for what must have been the thousandth time how Posey managed to have a job and post so much.  She smiled each time there was a picture from the Montague feast where her and Tru had been caught in the background cuddling up or kissing each other.  There was one where Tru was talking to someone else and the look in Rosaline’s eyes was pure adoration and love as she gazed at her Domme.

Rosaline’s texting and calling became more frequent and frantic, she even resorted to sending an email to the brothel booking system requesting an urgent appointment with Tru specifically but got no response from anything.  No matter how many deep breaths she took she could feel her panic really starting to rise and her hands started to tremble with worry.

An entirely different kind of panic filled her when the smell of burning began to fill the room and the submissive cursed loudly having forgotten about the food in the oven.  She sprang from the sofa and went to the kitchen, getting completely engulfed in smoke for a moment she repressed the memories of the Apothecary fire and flung open a window to let the smoke out.

With a sad whimper she pulled the plates out of the oven, the food atop burned to a crisp and completely ruined.  She wasn’t hungry anymore anyway.  Feeling tears start to well in her eyes she dumped the plates on the side, undoing her previous hard work in tidying up and dropped to the floor, letting the tears roll down her cheeks.

Feeling dejected the normally confident and cheerful girl began to have her thoughts drift to what she may have done wrong.  Was this isolation an impromptu punishment for something she’d forgotten she’d done wrong?  There was nothing she could think of.  Desperate for a hint of what it could be she scrolled through all her messages from Tru - it took a while to get passed the long string she had sent that evening - but found nothing.

Looking around desperately her eyes fell on the wine rack and before she knew it she was on her feet with a bottle in her hand.  Rosaline stopped, shook her head and returned the unopened bottle to the rack.  No, she hadn’t done anything wrong, she knew that really.  Her concerns shifted from herself to Tru.  Something must have happened.

Rosaline called Sin again but got no answer, she shouldn’t have been surprised by that as it was late now and he had a very pregnant submissive to look after and from what Ava was saying her nesting instincts were starting to really take hold.  Rosaline suddenly felt guilty for even bugging them in the first place.

At a total loss she called Tru another half a dozen times in the space of half an hour, each message left more frantic and worried than the last.  The last time she called she got the heartbreaking message from a mechanical voice telling her that the phone was now full and no further voice messages could be left.  She resorted back to text messages, not knowing what else she could do.  Some of the messages became garbled as tears clouded her vision and soon she had to stop because her hands were shaking so much.

In an act of pure desperation Rosaline ran around the entire house, looking behind doors, under beds, in wardrobes - literally anywhere someone could hide.  She called out to Tru as she looked, her voice distraught as she wailed how this isn’t a nice trick to pull and she should stop now.

With the tour of the house complete and still no sign of Tru she went outside, she looked down the street and all round the house - which reminded her to close the kitchen window.  Closing the front door behind her the submissive slid down the door and completely broke down.  She had no idea how long she cried for but she only stopped when there just weren’t any more tears to fall.

Struck by an idea, Rosaline grabbed her phone once again and called the hospital.  If something had happened surely Tru would be there.  The receptionist she got through to kept asking if she was ok which frustrated Rosaline in her state as she didn’t care about herself, she wanted to know about Tru.  Finally she was told that nobody with the name Lovell had been admitted and the only unnamed person who matched Tru’s description was at least 20 years older.

Still in a panic Rosaline calle The Watch, asking if anyone there had seen or heard from Tru or even if she had been arrested for some reason.  She received the answer of no to all her questions and was asked if she needed to report a crime.  When Rosaline said her Domme was missing with no contact it was explained that it has to be more than 48 hours to be reported as a missing person and that she should try and get some sleep rather than make things worse through panicking.

Distraught and exhausted, Rosaline crawled back through to the living room and grabbed the cable to plug her phone in as it was now getting low on battery.  She tried to climb onto the sofa but couldn’t muster the energy so she just collapsed on the floor.  She alternated between crying and staring at her phone, sometimes both and didn’t even register the fact she was drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep.  Finally she succumbed completely but it was far from a peaceful sleep and every time she awoke with a start she would check her phone and cry before drifting to sleep again.

[itscooltobefanficy]

Feeling Alive- Part 11

Summary: Dance school!AU (or the Step Up/Pride and Prejudice mash up nobody asked for). Bucky Barnes is forced to take twelve hours of commercial dance classes to pass the year- and that just happens to be your regular weekly dance class.

Introduction

Part 1 (Slow Hands)

Part 2 (Stay)

Part 3 (There Will Come a Time)

Part 4 (Weapon of Choice)

Part 5 (Came Here For Love)

Part 6 (Where the Sky Hangs)

Part 7 (When Can I See You Again?)

Part 8 (Manhattan)

Part 9 (Skip To The Good Bit)

Part 10 (Poison & Wine)

Clean

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Chapter 12/?: Clean

Word count: 2412

Warnings: swearing and ANGST

Just... YOU GUYS. I am utterly indebted to your enthusiasm and love. Thank you a hundred times. (Because TSwift is who she is, the version of Clean I linked is a cover, but you can find the original on Spotify).

Y: Hope you’re OK, despite the awful situation

Y: Give my best to Steve tomorrow

Y: Try to sleep as much as you can

Y: OK I’m hoping you’re asleep, good night

~~

Friday is your day off. You can’t decide if that’s good or bad. On the one hand, you don’t have to try to get through a day at work, with all that happened yesterday clouding the back of your mind- on the other, you have nothing to distract you from the horrible reality of the situation. You force yourself to get up and make a start on tidying your apartment. Anything to keep your mind from swerving back to the ugly bundle of Steve’s knee resting on stark white blankets, or the expression of hopeless anger on Bucky’s face.

Y: Hope you’re bearing up

Y: Try to keep eating etc.

You know that Bucky’s probably in class or at the hospital, so the fact that he isn’t replying doesn’t bother you too much. Instead you try to stay focused on the tasks in front of you: vacuuming, sweeping, rearranging your bookshelf until finally everything looks neat once more. Then you check the time and pick up the phone.

“Hey!” Wanda’s voice is strangely cheerful in your ears. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Wanda,” You answer, then take a deep breath. What do they say about bad news? There’s no easy way to deliver it. “Ah, it’s about Steve?”

“Steve? Is he OK?”

You silently offer thanks to Wanda’s preternatural talent for reading your voice.

“Um, no. Not really. He’s dislocated his knee.” Even just saying it, your words shake slightly with left-over shock.

“Oh, God. Shit. When did that happen?” You can picture Wanda’s face, creased with helpless concern.

“Yesterday,” You tell her, “I’m sure the Academy will be in touch but-”

“No, I’m glad you told me,” Wanda instantly reassures you. “Are you OK?”

“Bucky came to see me,” You say, slowly, unsure how to put what you’re feeling into words, “Then I went with him to the hospital… They’re all really-”

“I can imagine,” Wanda says, gravely. “Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing today. So far.”

“It’ll be OK. He’ll be OK.”

“Wanda, he’s not going to be able to dance again.” Your voice wobbles, unshed tears threatening once again. God, you’re sick of crying.

“Oh, God. Do you want me to come over?” Wanda’s offer is perfectly serious; she’s come across town for less before. But you can’t face dealing with such a concentrated outpouring of sympathy and concern. In fact, you can barely face dealing with anything at all. All you want to do is bury beneath the duvet and hope the day, along with all its misery, disappears before you next resurface.

“I’m OK,” Is what you say, rather than coming across as totally insane. “Thanks, it means a lot- but I’m OK. Just want today to be over with.”

“Yeah, OK. Just know I’m on the end of the line if you need me.”

Your heart swells with affection. “Thanks, Wanda.”

“Anytime. Look after yourself, yeah?”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Stay strong.” The line clicks off.

You drag in a few carefully measured breaths. The pressure on your chest eases slightly.

Y: I’m going to bed, know I’ve been saying this a lot but hope you’re OK

You eventually fall asleep with your phone face down on the floor, trying to switch off the tick of anxiety in your heart.

~~

On Saturday, you get a text at half eleven.

Hi Y/N this is Nat. Steve is out of hospital. Has yet to hit anyone with his crutches although I’m sure it will happen soon. We are safely back at the academy. Thanks for your help on Thurs.

Reading it, your heart momentarily unclenches- he’s out of hospital, in good spirits by the sound of it- but then, rereading it, a different kind of discomfort begins to well up inside you. Of course, you’re glad Nat has sent you an update; but why is Nat texting you? Nat doesn’t even have your number.

Maybe his phone’s flat. That’s what you tell yourself, and that excuse sustains you through the rest of the day.

Y: Probably building up a backlog of these but glad to hear Steve’s back safe

Y: Sleep well

~~

On Sunday, you cling to imagining a smashed screen, maybe dropped in the attempt to get Steve up those lethal stairs. The waves of doubt tug stronger and stronger, but you can still ride them out. One more day, you insist, one more day and he’ll text you. One more day and it will be fine. Just wait one more day.

~~

Monday comes, and there’s no word. At work, you’re flat and subdued- but after telling Lola what happened to Steve, she accepts that as enough reason for your mood and leaves you alone. You keep your phone in your bag the whole day, and when you unlock it to find a blank screen as you walk out of the library, you can taste the bitter sting of disappointment coating the back of your throat. But there’s one last option left. One last hope, one last maybe.

You tap Bucky’s number and hit call, then lift the phone to your ear. All he has to do is answer. Then you can put your fears to rest.

All he has to do is answer.

After the twelfth discordant ring, you slowly drop your hand and press your thumb carefully to the screen to end the call.

It’s still not over, a voice inside you insists, it still might be alright. He’ll come on Wednesday and make everything alright.

You try not to think of it as a fool’s hope, and carry on walking home.

~~

On Tuesday, you carry a hot, singeing coal around in your chest. It stings with each prod of your thoughts in Bucky’s direction, with every hesitant, anticipatory glance at your phone. Nothing seems able to dislodge it. You find yourself chewing your lip, fidgeting with your hands whenever they’re not occupied. Your mind won’t drop the why, the what’s happening, the is he OK, the did I do something wrong; until each worry is gnawed to splinters that jab and crack under your constant scrutiny.

That night, you convince yourself it’s not worth crying over, and force yourself to sleep, even as your thoughts run in endless circles.

Why?

What’s happening?

Is he OK?

Did I do something wrong?

~~

You’re strung as tight as wire through the hours of your Wednesday shift. When the clock reaches five, you seize your belongings, wave a quick goodbye and dart out the door. You spend the minimum possible time back at your flat- diving in, struggling into your workout clothes, grabbing your bag and dashing out again- before striding, with butterflies fighting in your stomach, down the road towards the bus stop.

You know you’re early- which is why you’re surprised to see Sam and Nat already waiting at the stop. Only Sam and Nat. Your stomach drops to rest somewhere on the pavement.

Still, at least you might get an explanation. You square your shoulders and hurry over.

Nat looks grim. That’s your first clue. Sam’s smile is forced, slightly uneven at the edges. You look from one to the other. “Are you OK? How’s Steve?”

How’s Bucky? You want to ask, but you keep a lid on that question.

“Steve’s OK,” Sam replies, “Not great, but he’s dealing with it.”

You nod, then force yourself to say it.

“Where’s Bucky? Is he-”

You don’t even know: OK? Better? Worse? Avoiding me?

Nat glances at Sam.

“What?” You ask. You’re trying to keep your voice light, joking, because it’s fine, right? Everything’s fine. But when Nat looks back to you, her face makes your heart sink.

“Bucky got an exemption from Fury,” She says, carefully, “This was supposed to be their last week anyway. They only had two more compulsory hours to complete, so he asked to be excused from attending the class.”

“Oh.”

Your mouth can’t manage anything else. What does that mean?

You stare at Nat, pleading wordlessly with her to explain. She grimaces slightly, then shifts her gaze to Sam. His eyes widen; then he looks at you, and his expression settles into something more sympathetic. He takes a deep breath.

“Don’t- don’t beat up on yourself, Y/N, but Bucky’s…”

He trails off, and your heart lurches.

“Bucky’s what? Is it Steve? Is it the auditions?” You’re losing the fragile grasp you had on your temper; your normal checks have been frayed by the crises of the past few days.

Sam’s face crumples up. “We think so. He’s just- sometimes he just puts the blinkers on and that’s it-” Sam reaches out, maybe reacting to the way your heart feels like its collapsing in on itself, and delivers the final blow with a rough kind of care in his voice, “- For everything else.”

You don’t need to ask anything more. You don’t even want to hear it; you can’t stand to hear the final nail being hammered in the coffin.

Everything else: everything us.

That’s it for everything else.

Your throat has closed up, but you refuse to cry here, in case Nat and Sam bear word back to the academy of your reaction. You’ll be goddamned strong. So, you swallow painfully and stare away down the street as you force down the roiling, sickening waves of emotion. Deal with it later, you tell yourself, right now, hold it together.

So you do. You hold it together through the bus ride, then through Wanda’s looks of concern as you prep for the class, and then through the class itself. So what if you perform the movements with all the feeling of a robot? If it keeps you from crying in front of everyone, it’s worth it. The two hours pass in both an agonising drag and the blink of an eye; all of a sudden the music has stopped and everyone’s filing off the floor. Wanda makes a beeline for you.

“Talk to me. Right now.” She gently takes your arm and steers you towards the corner. A black tide seems to rise in your throat at her words; you wrestle it down, but not before your eyes start stinging.

“Y/N?” Pepper appears at your shoulder, her delicate face pulled into a frown. “Are you OK? You seemed a little…”

“Sad,” Clint signs, striding up to your little huddle.

The black tide surges again. You frantically glance around the studio- but everyone else seems preoccupied packing up. Some are already heading out, waving to Wanda. You bite your lip.

“Um, I’ve got something to tell you all.”

~~

Fifteen minutes later and the four of you are sat on the floor of the studio. Pepper has her arm around you, Wanda is handing you her emergency sugar stash, and Clint looks thunderous.

“So,” You sniff, “I think that’s it.” Your voice shudders on the last word, but you push on. It’s nearly out, the whole sorry tale, and you’re already feeling a little lighter. Your hands keep up with your words, just about. “I don’t think my pride can take chasing him anymore.”

“Damn right!” Wanda says, indignantly, just as Clint begins to sign something else.

“Do you want me to go beat him up?”

You snort, but shake your head.

“He’s not worth it,” Pepper affirms, her face stern.

“He’s not,” You agree, ignoring the way your chest clenches at that statement, “I don’t even know why I’m so invested. Why I was so invested.”

Wanda shrugs. “Life’s a bitch, sometimes.”

“You’re not wrong.” You give a watery laugh. “Feelings are a bitch.”

Clint shrugs, then winks at you. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Remind me, how many dates have you had with Laura now?”

Clint shuts up, and the three of you laugh. Wanda springs to her feet.

“Come on, group therapy is closing for the night.”

You accept Clint’s hand up and manage a smile. “Thanks, guys. For-”

“Don’t mention it,” Pepper instantly replies.

“Any time,” Clint tells you.

“Absolutely.” Wanda pulls open the door. “Now, Pepper is going to drop you home in her fancy car, and I’m going to sort out our competition entries. Clear?”

“Chrystal,” You reply, then impulsively stride over and hug her tightly. “Thank you.”

“You’ll be fine,” She tells you, then presses a smacking kiss to the side of your head, “You’ve got us!”

Looking around at them, you actually believe her.

~~

Pepper does drive a fancy car. She runs her own start-up company, providing appropriate technical support to the city’s high-profile firms and organisations, and although she’s ever modest you know she’s very good at what she does. Her apartment is on the other side of town, near the financial district, so she normally carpools with Clint- but when Wanda issues an order, you don’t usually disobey it. So you hop in the back of her Mercedes without protest, and listen idly as she turns on the radio.

Oddly, you feel better for having sobbed your heart out on the floor of Scarlet Studios. The combined pressure of disappointment, sorrow and fury hasn’t disappeared; but it has eased. When Pepper draws up to the curb outside your flat a little while later, you lean forward in your seat and dangle your phone in your hand.

“What?” Clint’s sign is a little cramped from having to turn around.

Fuck. You don’t actually know the sign for erase. You instead give an apology and say, “Pepper? Can you erase Bucky’s number? I don’t trust myself to do it.”

Pepper twists in her seat and looks carefully at you. “Are you sure?”

You nod decisively. “I’m done.”

Done with bright blue eyes and dry laughter and a smile that simultaneously split apart and stitched back together your poor, battered heart. Done with sharp wit and stupid jokes and the gentle heat of swaying together to music that soared and seduced. Done with pouring all of your soul and care into someone who clearly didn’t want it. Done with waiting, and hoping, and hurting all at once.

Pepper clearly sees the certainty in your eyes. She takes your phone, swipes it open and you watch as she opens up your contacts and begins scrolling down.

Bucky (Dancing)

Delete this number?

With one tap of her finger, it’s gone.

AN: I’M SORRY WRITING THIS CHAPTER WAS SO SAD BUT STICK WITH ME LOVELIES (you’ll never go hungry again!). Sorry, Disney references are probably a side-effect of so much misery. The Pain Train trundles on! You know where to find me to shriek/cry/flail. Thank you again for your support <3 (P.S. Thirteen is finally finished. Haven’t quite decided if there are going to be one or two more parts before the epilogue- which you guys will decide on! So basically a few days until the next update. Stay strong <3)

Tag list:  @learisa; @vintagesaph; @debzybrazy; @madeofstarsdust; @beingcrushedbysociety; @plumsforbuck2016; @buckybabybaby; @seb-styles; @youtube-obsessed-duh; @casdoesntunderstandthatreference; @sunnycolors; @imthemishamigo; @themarvelousmaximoffs; @blonde0n; @smaug-the-homedog; @gabby913; @sexyashmike; @fuckinxqueenx; @velociraptorinae; @frnkensteingrl; @tattooideasforthefuture; @inlovewithnovels; @ipaintmelodies; @whimsicaldreaming; @olicia-leeshy; @xxamix; @xxblackteabinchxx; @v-ickie; @imnegativetillbepositive; @lilythelionflower; @witchinghour24; @hollycornish; @lucyvaughan-omg-; @thel0stpr1ncess; @kur0k1tsun3-blog; @siobhanrebecca; @thighs0fbetrayal; @ur-an-indiana-boy-sonny; @fungk17; @da363; @sorryidontspeakgrounder-world; @burtheimperium; @fandom-writes; @farawell; @dorisagent101; @ghostwriterfanfics; @avengers–marvel; @the-creative-lie; @ms-brown10; @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme; @marvelsavengersforever1227; @winchesterforever12; @stomachfilledwithbutterflies; @fictionwillneverdie; @basicwhiskeyprincesss; @tortadigranchio; @supikasia; @moonandstars-xo; @greengrassdiaries; @jiminera; @irreplaceablevogue; @jechloandhyde; @damagelove; @schaart; @satansknittingclub; @scentedcoffeefire; @brooke-supernatural16; @sarahmichelle5; @dreeams-unwind; @damnbuckyishot; @thestuffyouwant; @obliviousheaven; @moist-bread1234

Part 12

[tsgplanoandfrisco]

A Day with Nicki Cooley, Owner of Sweets on a Stick Frisco

With March being National Women’s History Month, we thought it would be fun to give you a peak into a day in the life of some of the amazing women and business owners in The Scout Guide Plano & Frisco!  

Nicki Cooley, the insanely talented head decorator and owner of Sweets on a Stick Frisco, graciously agreed to go first!  Nicki started Sweets on a Stick in 2012 in her home kitchen and in 2017 expanded her business into a darling little house in old downtown Frisco. Enjoy spending the day with Nicki!!  She makes custom sweets, hosts classes and caters events

XO,

Caroline

8:00 AM  |  I am not a morning person. Doesn't really matter when you have kids, not to mention a business to run. My husband wakes me at 8. He's this wonderful rare specimen of partner who gets up with the kids, makes their school lunches, and gets them dressed every morning. I get up, get ready, do the girl's hair and we're out the door by 8:45. I drop them at pre-school, and then head to the bakery. Usually I eat a banana and some nuts, or a granola bar in the car. Sometimes I like to walk over to Summer Moon and grab a chai tea for a little caffeine boost. 

9:10 AM |  I get to the bakery a little after 9:00. I've got two amazing ladies who work with me and keep me sane. We've got a busy day, so one is rolling and cutting cookie dough, while the other is tidy up from the weekend's cookie classes and resetting the classroom for tonight's class. We've also got icing to make and cake pops to decorate.  

12:15 PM | We then work on packaging all of the Valentine's sweets for our "Valentine Shop". Lots of pre-ordered cookies, plus single cookies, cake pops, and other fun treats to be purchased during our special holiday "pop up". Since most of the time we are only doing custom orders we have a lot of fun preparing and coming up with designs for these special days we are open to the public.  I focus on making sure everything is ready to go for Valentine's pick ups - everything is packaged, and each bag is labeled with the customer's name to make things go smoothly.

 2:00 PM | Both employees leave, and I sit down to eat my lunch, answer emails, and send pick-up reminders to customers who pre-ordered for the holiday. Usually I bring a lunch, but the upside of working in Frisco's Rail District is I often grab a quick bite from one of the many amazing restaurants downtown. My favorite lunch spots are 5th Street Patio Cafe, or Mariana's for tacos. (And Eight 11 if I'm feeling leisurely or need an indulgent middle of the day glass of wine!)

Usually I leave around 4:15 to pick my kids up from school and head home to make dinner, but this afternoon I've got a private class of girl scouts coming, so my husband is on pick up duty. We've already got the classroom set up for class, so all I need to do before they arrive is set out cookies. I switch gears to this weekend's orders. I arrange the order forms, and any inspiration pictures or sketches on the fridge and make baking lists. I also work on finishing up a few more items to include in tomorrow's shop - brownies, pretzel rods, and edible cookie dough are all on the menu! 

3:45 PM | Just before the girl scouts arrive I place cookies at each spot, cut open the icing bags, make sure my projector is working, and of course turn on some party music! Just before 4:00 the girls begin to arrive, they decorate aprons until everyone is there, then we begin!  After an hour of decorating, everyone has 4 cute cookies, and it's time for them to go home.  I clean up the mess, and mop the floor. 

Then I rearrange the tables for the Valentine's shop. We are getting in a little early tomorrow to set up for the Valentine's Shop, so I wash the last few dishes, tidy up, and leave it at that for tonight. 

7:30 PM | Then I head home, my girls are just about to go to bed, and there's a stew in the crockpot that's calling my name. I tuck the kids in then head down to some quiet time with my husband.

9:00 PM | After dinner I answer a few more emails, make sure all the products are set up correctly on our POS, create price tags for all the sweets, make weekly to do lists, shop online for supplies needed for future orders, etc. 

12:15 AM | I usually go to bed after midnight, I like to play a few games on my phone before falling asleep to take my mind off of work (otherwise it would stay there all night!) I set my alarm for tomorrow, but most likely I'll just ignore it... and wait until my husband wakes me at 8...

[brinroberts-blog]

please please please

who brinley and braxton what after days of avoiding, brinley finally breaks once again when late friday night, may 26th a/n originally intended for tomorrow night but we finished hella early so if it seems like its a weird time of day in one place its bc i am half asleep when i tried to edit it xoxo. also, incest. 

BRINLEY

It was all over the news, Camille’s face drowning in crocodile tears, the kind that made Brin roll her eyes.

“I watched her go.”

Brinley had known this, of course, and truthfully she should have gone to the cops with what she did know. How this wasn’t some random thing, that they’d been going to Junkie’s for months, Grayson never touching but almost.

But she had told her friends. Warned them, but no one wanted to believe her. No one trusted that Brin just might know what she was talking about. When you spent your life trying to numb everything, you weren’t taken very seriously.

She had thought about showing up on Phoenix’s doorstep with a box of wine coolers, a bottle of tequila and a baggie of Charlie’s best, despite having left her and Claudia only a couple hours ago. She had thought about going to Junkie’s herself to ‘celebrate’ the occasion. She’d thought about doing a lot of things, and instead she stayed where she was. Sitting on the living room couch, knees against her chest in her favorite pajama pants (a pair of Charlie’s, really, Braxton’s all returned to his room.) with a bottle of nail polish in her hands.

It had been a long time since she spent the night at home, alone.

Braxton was...somewhere, maybe screwing Charlie or Claudia since apparently he had the same taste as she did (irony that did not escape her), and her father was still missing, though Brin wasn’t too sad about that. He could stay that way forever, for all she cared.

(Except she did, care. Once upon a time, before puberty hit, before cheer and late nights out, her dad had been half her world. He’d been a good father, and then one day -

And how do you explain that when his relationship with her twin had never been that, not really. Braxton had been an accessory, a necessity. To keep one, you had to keep them both.)

So she flipped between channels, unable to sleep (and would she ever truly sleep normally again?), the late night news reporting on every channel with Stella’s latest instagram picture in the corner.

“Startling Family Secrets” read the tagline.

As if anything was startling anymore.

Braxton stumbled in as she was finishing her toenails, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat from riding his bike and a surprised (but happy) look on his face to see her.

“Keys are on the counter,” she told him, blowing one last time at her toes and flicking the television off. “She’s low on gas, though, so you’ll have to fill her up before work.”

And with that, she left the room, not even waiting for whatever short answer he might have given in reply.

BRAXTON

When the news about Stella dropped, he felt like the only one really unaffected by it. Brin had been saying it for weeks and while no one else believed her, he hadn’t exactly ruled it out. Stella has run away, willingly, and that was the latest development. It felt like sure a non starter to him; maybe because he had his own shit to deal with. Too much shit, really.

Things with Charlie had settled down enough that Brax didn’t feel awkward around him. In a way, Brax was almost grateful for the fact he hadn’t been able to dwell on it. It made it a lot easier to talk to him about it once it was brought up. Because he hadn’t spent hours running it through his head, making it bigger than it was. He could just let it be… whatever it was.

But there were still things unsettled and while everyone was looking to Stella and Camille, Brax just wanted to figure his own stuff out. And his stuff, as it almost always did, centered around Brinley. She wasn’t acting like herself, and hadn’t since they’d come home from her almost across the border run. She had visited him at the station when he’d been locked up, but she didn’t talk to him as much as he talked about him to everyone else. And when he came home, she hadn’t come to his room like she always did. He’d had to go to hers, in desperate need of some comfort and physical affection - she was his only family, after all. He noticed she’d cleaned, something she only did when stressed. Even her sheets were different. They didn’t quite smell like her yet.

She was gone when he woke up the next morning. He thought maybe to work, but no, she’d just gone off with Charlie. Then with Phoenix. And he meant it when he told her - told everyone - that he didn’t want to be alone in the house. Never alone with Jack and never in the position that it could happen. If Brinley wasn’t there, he didn’t want to be either. She should have understood that immediately, but she didn’t seem to get it. So he’d stayed at Oliver’s, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something was still really wrong with Brinley.

When Brax went to visit her at work, she pretended to be too busy for him. “You’re sitting in a chair,” he’d tried to joke and she just insisted that she had to make sure no one drowned. Which, yeah, very admirable but all he’d said was “hi” and “do you want a snack?”

And he couldn’t work it out in his head. He thought maybe she was somehow mad at him for how things had happened between him and Jack. Or she was regretting ever coming back with him. Or… that moment… the one he still wasn’t sure he’d processed..

So when nothing had really been figured out, he took his bike and rode around town, as fast and as far as he could. There was something about the way his muscles burned when he pushed the pedals, how the wind rushed by him because he allowed it to, and how he could build enough speed to outrun his thoughts that always made him feel better. It was like if he went fast enough, he could become a new person just by force alone.

But that feeling, that easy elation, faded as soon as he got back to the house and before he could even say “hi” Brinley had bounced off the couch and left the living room, a flippant reminder about gas in the car he didn’t even want to take.

“No, wait, hold on,” he said, trying to catch up as she went up the stairs but she’d gotten too much of a head start and he’d stumbled halfway up, hitting his knee. But still, he caught up to her just before she could open the door to her room, his hand wrapping around the knob as he wedged himself between her and the entrance.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What are you doing?” he echoed, standing in front of her room and forcing her to look at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

BRINLEY

“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong with you’?”

It came out harsher than she’d intended, the words echoing around in her brain as he stared at her. Confused, definitely, but not understandably. It was like the other day hadn’t even happened for him. And maybe it was better that way, if he just pushed it aside, forgot all about it.

Brin wished she could have.

Instead it was at the forefront of her mind, the first thing she thought of when she woke up (alone, or with Phoenix, or with someone who just wasn’t Braxton) and the last thing she fell asleep agonizing over.

She’d kissed her brother. And he hadn’t kissed her back. What was wrong with her?

“You’re avoiding me,” Brax tried to argue, even as Brin pushed past him, rummaging around through her closet like she was actually going to go anywhere. (She wasn’t, but it was late on a Friday night and how was he supposed to know that?) “Did I - is it because of Jack?”

She dropped the shoes she’d been holding, spinning around on her heel in surprise. “About dad?” she questioned, not missing the slight flinch he made. (She wanted to write him off just as quickly as Brax had, tell him to go fuck himself and leave right that minute. But she only had one parent, and even if he was a shitty one, did she really want none?) “No, I’m pissed at him. Who do you think bought my new sneakers?”

Her grin came out as more of a grimace, but she put them away nonetheless with the rest of her cheer practice stuff, a little section organized in her closet in a way that it hadn’t been….ever. Jack barely kept the house clean, used to hire a maid service once a month to tidy up after them, no one had taught her how to pick up after herself. It took extraordinary stress to make her organize. Stress she’d only been through a handful of times before. And never quite so severe.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” he asked, his voice quiet and sad and Brin could feel her heart breaking, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she refused to look at him. It wasn’t fair, it just fucking wasn’t. Her heart was already breaking in a thousand pieces, why should she have to pretend it wasn’t so he’d be okay?

“I’ve been busy,” she replied flippantly, hoping to evade the subject as long as possible. “Figured you were busy with Charlie or Claudia. Your new beaus.”

The words were snide, just a twinge of jealousy and anger lying beneath them. She hadn’t meant to let it slip out but….there it was. And chances were, Braxton still wouldn’t even notice.

BRAXTON

“You keep saying that,” he said, shaking his head, still trying to get her attention. She was moving around her room like she had a reason to be but it was too stiff to actually mean anything. When Brinley moved, she moved with chaotic freedom, a flow to her that didn’t seem to be going anywhere until you got there and realized how exciting the whole thing had been. But this stiff, organized, methodical thing she was going just wasn’t her.

“You keep saying that,” he tried again, pressing his back against her door so that even if she rushed him, she couldn’t leave without talking to him. “But like, they’ve always been friends. You, you’re my best friend and you’re not talking to me.”

“I don’t have anything to talk to about,” she muttered. And he wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that she was lying to him or the fact that maybe, after the drama passed, she didn’t see the need to bother herself with it.

“And what if I had something to talk to you about?” he asked, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be. “Because come on, Brin. This has been the worst fucking week of my life and I don’t know, I just thought you’d like… care about that. A little bit.”

She signed then, a softer voice than his before she turned around, just barely looking at him. “Of course I fucking care, Brax. I just don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, taking a few steps towards her until he realized she’d stepped back. Away from him. Actually, physically away from him, like being close wasn’t something she could do anymore.

“Seriously?” he breathed, his teeth on edge.

“What?”

“You like backed up just now!”

“I so didn’t.”

“You did!” he said, taking one step and sure enough, just like before, she backed up. Just this time, she seemed to notice it, her eyes going a little wide with panic before she turned around and started fiddling with something on the table by her bed.

“Brin, please,” he begged. “Just… whatever it is, just tell me. Okay? I don’t know what I did and I don’t know why you’re mad at me or you’re - whatever at me. But you have to tell me because I’m really lost here.”

He was standing right behind her when she turned around and he didn’t think she realized it until she was looking directly at him, actually looking him in the eye. And he could see then how mixed with fear they were, how she was trying to hold it back, but he knew her better than he knew himself. He knew what she looked like when she was afraid. He knew because he spent most of his nights looking in those eyes while their dad stomped around downstairs. Or when his gaze lasted just a little too long or his attempts at paternal affection made Brinley shiver even under the two comforters she and Brax shared.

“What are you scared of?” he asked, reaching up and pressing his thumb against her chin to make sure she kept looking at him. He was blunt. The only way Brinley couldn’t ignore him.

BRINLEY

She swallowed thickly, but he held her still and she couldn’t even try and look away. Sure, if she had demanded it, he would have let her. He’d never lay a hand she didn’t ask for on her. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She wanted more than what he could offer. Brinley Roberts, the heartbreaker, having her own heart broken by her very own twin.

“I’m not,” she told him, and he scoffed but let his hand drop. Only to her shoulders, fingers warm against her bare skin beneath her tank top, her own arms wrapping around her stomach. Scared. It was ludicrous, really, because she’d never been afraid of Braxton. Not physically, not mentally, but now…

Was it possible she was? A little? She’d been avoiding him for days, really, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was because she was hurt, and upset, and she’d be the first to admit that rejection was not something she often received. Maybe that was what was happening. Maybe she reacted to emotional pain the same way she did fear.

“I’m not,” she said again, more forcefully. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then tell me,” he pleaded, his entire face open and vulnerable and how, how, how did he always get to be the good one, the innocent one, while she was just the bitch?

“Tell you what, Braxton,” she snapped, finally getting angry about it. It was past due, she was sure, but she stepped out of his grasp, her arms crossing her chest as she stared him down. “You should know what’s wrong with me, you better than anyone. But you don’t. Because you don’t even care that I put myself out there for you, that I put myself on the line. And then you rejected me, Brax. And I get it, I really, truly do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be all sunshine and daisies right away!”

Her voice had escalated, higher and higher and she knew - she could see it, plain as day - that this had somehow taken him by surprise. Like she could have possibly cared about anything else this deeply for this long. As if any other potential situation in the entire world would have cut her so deep.

“I’m sorry that dad arrested you,” she tried to say evenly, “but you don’t even know what happened when you left. And I know it wasn’t your choice, but fuck, Braxton, I had to spend an entire night alone in this house with him with your dresser against the door because I didn’t know what else to do! And I can’t sleep next to you anymore because it doesn’t make me feel like it did! Because now all I can think about is how you’re shoving your tongue down Charlie’s throat or how Claudia wants to fuck you now and why the hell shouldn’t you? Because your sister is crazy? Because I’m jealous? So I need some fucking space, okay, but you keep pushing and pushing and pushing and you - “

She let out a frustrated half-scream, storming around the room and sitting on her bed just to be as far away from his as possible. Just for the space she had been asking for for days upon days now. So she could figure herself out, figure out what had gone so intrinsically wrong in her wiring that this was her life.

And she didn’t care if he left or stayed. She was just exhausted and every day seemed to drain her more and more.

She wondered why she’d even come back to Ashbourne at all. Why she hadn’t left, alone, when she could have.

BRAXTON

Well, he’d asked for it. And there it was, all spilling out of her in a way that made him feel so fucking guilty for not getting it. But he’d been so shocked, so unprepared when she kissed him that he hadn’t even been able to focus on what was happening, much less what it might mean. Or even mean to her. And with everything that happened immediately after, he’d been so…

Exhausted. So fucking drained that he’d gone numb. Feelings weren’t a real thing because he couldn’t feel them. Nothing happening was real, much less the fact that his sister had made a move on him. Like, it barely even registered in the grand scheme of fucked up things happening in his fucked up life.

His mistake had been not seeing how much it registered to her, how much it mattered to her. Because now all her comments about Charlie - who must have told her that they’d kissed - and this thing about Claudia - who wanted to fuck him? What? - and how he didn’t need her or want her, that somehow she’d believed he’d pick anyone else in the world over her-

It hit him. Like nothing else in his life, not even Jack Robert’s fist against his head. Hard and fast, like whatever block had been inside of him that kept all of this at bay finally broke. It broke because Brinley broke. Because she screamed and yelled and she was hurt and she felt like something was wrong with her and that meant something was wrong with them and he couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t deal with that. Nothing in his world had to make sense but she did. Brinley had to be Brinley and he had to be Braxton and together they had to be what they’d always been.

She was on the opposite side of the bed, her back to him but he lunged forward anyway, his knee sinking into the middle of the mattress until she tilted backwards, losing her balance because of his sudden move. She swirled around, already ready to yell at him again. But her face was in his hands, fingers tangled in her hair and caught on the shell of her ear.

And this time, he kissed her. Frantic, and hard and it might have felt like he had something to prove but really… yeah, he did. Because she didn’t get it either. He hadn’t rejected her. He knew how to reject someone. He’d just been so tired and surprised and maybe he was the one who’d been scared. Maybe he was the one who was really afraid to show any kind of real emotion. But he’d never had to be that way with her. Until that moment. Until it all crashed and forgot to make sense for a second.

But he kissed her. He did it this time. And when he pulled away, she looked dazed. But she looked at him still.

“You,” he said as sternly as he could, as serious and insistent, “are the most important thing in this world, okay? I would never let anything happen to you. I love you. I kissed Charlie once. I’ve done nothing with Claudia. You aren’t… crazy. You’re just miles ahead.”

She didn’t say anything but he still held onto her, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb as he settled a bit more gently into the middle of her bed. He had no idea what he’d just done. What it might mean. But maybe… maybe she’d get him now too. Now that he got her. Now that he thought he did.

“I’ll give you space, okay?” he whispered, still touching her. “But don’t ever think I’d trade anyone for you. You, Brinley, are the only family I have. Whatever that has to mean, maybe it’s different now. Or maybe it’s always been different. But nothing you do or say or think or feel or anything will ever, ever make me go away. Ever.”

[candiedyamms]

Pick your favorite Noya ship for the ship meme! (I want to be creative and not go the usual route of salt and stars, but you already gave me my number two ship, so I picked a random character and rolled with it! Sorry if that's random...)

Not random at all! Honestly, I LOVE Noya and Asahi (maybe even more than tsukkiyama but for some reason I never write them. I should fix that) So here’s some answers for Asanoya!

Send Me a Ship! 

Who hogs the duvet: Noya. He flips around and cuddles with anything he can get his hands on, and a lot of the time its the blanket. Asahi never says anything, and ends up shivering until Noya wakes up and readjusts the covers over him. This lasts for maybe an hour before it’s back to being tangled around Noya. 


Who texts/rings to check how their day is going: Asahi! Sometimes Noya gets so into what he’s doing that Asahi worries he’ll forget to take a break or look after himself, so he likes to check in and make sure he’s doing well.

Who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts: Asahi. He remembers all the little things that Noya says offhandedly and uses those details to come up with something that Noya never expects.

Who gets up first in the morning: Noya, though Asahi isn’t far behind. They like to go out for runs as the sun is rising, and maybe stop for smoothies on the way back.

Who suggests new things in bed: Noya! He gets really excited about this new thing he saw in a magazine, and sure, he’ll show Asahi the magazine, that why they can get it just right!

Who cries at movies: 100% Asahi. He’s got such a gentle heart that he even tears up at commercials about old men adopting dogs.

Who gives unprompted massages: Noya. He loves touching any part of Asahi he can get his hands on, and he knows that his boyfriend is usually a giant ball of nerves that often manifests into clusters of knots in his shoulders. He’ll spend a whole movie working them out while Asahi sits on the floor in front of the couch.

Who fusses over the other when they’re sick: Noya. He so rarely gets sick that he doesn’t know what’s normal and what’s not, so even the littlest cough or runny nose from Asahi and he’s running to the store to get him cold medicine and tons of things he doesn’t even need, like four different flavors of cough drops.

Who gets jealous easiest: Asahi. He still has a hard time believing he’s good enough for Noya, so when he sees other people who he thinks would be better for Noya he not only gets jealous, but also pretty upset with himself. Noya’s always there to reassure him that he’s the only one for him, though.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: Asahi. He loves old, old music. And not the good, classic kind. The kind that he can only listen to on his parents old records from artists even they don’t remember buying.

Who collects something unusual: Asahi likes to collect match books from places they visit, even though he never uses them and would never dream of picking up smoking. He just likes the different pictures and logos on them. Noya will bring him interesting ones he finds when he’s off by himself.

Who takes the longest to get ready: Noya. Have you seen his hair? Asahi runs a brush through his and tosses it up, then spends the next half an hour waiting while Noya carefully styles his with half a bottle of hair gel.

Who is the most tidy and organized: Asahi. It makes him more relaxed to be in a clean and tidy place. When he spends time at Noya’s he’ll usually clean up his room for him - putting the dirty laundry into the basket and stacking up the books and magazines scattered around the room.

Who gets most excited about the holidays: Noya! He gets really into the holiday spirit - whatever holiday it is. Decorations, costumes, everything. He throws the best Halloween parties, going way overboard.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: Noya is surprisingly the better big spoon. He loves wrapping his arms as far around his big boyfriend as they can go, and nuzzling his face into his hair. Asahi just loves the feeling of being held tight, so it works out for him, too.

Who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports: Neither, really. They both know when it’s just between them it’s just for fun. They save their competitive streaks for official matches. Besides, they would rather work together and be on the same team than competing against each other.

Who starts the most arguments: Noya, but only because he gets so frustrated when Asahi refuses to see how good of a person he is.He can’t stand seeing Asahi so hard on himself, and it just bubbles to the surface and he says some things he doesn’t mean and some he does, like Asahi should be kinder to himself in the same way he is to others.

Who suggests that they buy a pet: Asahi. He can’t walk by a pet shop or shelter without tearing up at how cute the kittens are and oh my god they need homes and he has a home.

What couple traditions they have: They love to take baths together. Once a week they soak in the tub with fancy bath bombs that Noya finds and just relax. They talk about their days and drink a glass or two of wine, getting progressively sillier until the water is cold and they get out to cuddle under warm blankets.

What tv shows they watch together: Really bad reality tv shows. Like Bachelorette bad. Asahi gets really invested in the contestants feelings and Noya likes to tease him about it.

What other couple they hang out with: Daichi and Suga. They like to get dinner together at least once a week. They end up talking more about the team than anything else, but it’s still nice to do it in a different environment. They like to hang out with Tanaka and whoever he’s with, but those double dates tend to be the active variety: hiking in the mountains, a game of paintball where Asahi hides behind cover the whole time.

How they spend time together as a couple: Comfortably. They feed off of each other so much - when Asahi is having a hard time seeing the good things in life Noya is there to brighten it up; when Noya is over doing it and giving too much of himself to something Asahi is there to gently remind him to take care of himself and relax. They fit together so perfectly that every moment they are together is easy, and simple, and comfortable.

Who made the first move: Noya. Let’s be real. He knew what he wanted and he went for it. Asahi was happily surprised, as he had totally missed all the signs right up until Noya cornered him and asked him to go out on a date that very night.

Who brings flowers home: Asahi! He loves going into the florist and picking out a bouquet himself, adding all the flowers he thinks Noya would like. He makes sure to pick only the ones that smell the best.

Who is the best cook: Asahi. After Noya forgot he put something in the oven and the smoke alarm went off in the middle of the night, Asahi does almost all of the cooking.