#me @ me: you should try writing a sort of slow burn fic to challenge yourself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

echoes-of-realities · 5 years

Text

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 24/25

* * *

[From the Start] // [Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Previous Chapter]

Chapter Summary: The Nutcracker has its last show; Santana and Brittany spend Christmas Eve together.

Notes: We’re Almost there fam! Also the actual George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker doesn’t stop after Christmas and goes up to December 30th at least, but just for simplicity’s sake I’m taking artistic liberties and in this universe the ballet’s last show is today.

Chapter 24: watching old movies while the fireplace fades

///

The last show of the production’s run is at two, but Brittany still gets up early to help Mercedes finish up the last of her packing. She’s leaving with Sam as soon as the show is over tonight to head back home until New Year’s, her and Sam heading to her parents’ place first and then his; usually the company and crew will have a wrap-up party as soon as the last show is done, but with it being Christmas Eve and all, this production of The Nutcracker usually skips that tradition so everyone has more time with their families and has it sometime between Christmas and New Year’s.

Mercedes is just zipping up her suitcase when Brittany wanders into her room, yawning and absently pulling her messy hair up into an even messier bun. “Nee’ ‘elp?” she mumbles.

Mercedes giggles and rolls her eyes. “You’re only wearing one sock,” she comments mildly.

Brittany looks down, too tired to feel surprised, and shrugs. “Lefty was too hot,” she says nonchalantly, and Mercedes bursts into giggles. “I’ll help you take your stuff out to the living room.”

Mercedes hefts her suitcase off of the bed and motions to the pile of wrapped gifts in the corner of her room, all neatly packed into couple of reusable grocery bags. “You can grab those.”

“What time is Sam picking us up?” Brittany asks as she trails after Mercedes.

“Like, nine thirty-ish?”

“Cool,” Brittany says, “I’ll have time to tidy up then.”

“Why?”

Brittany feels a blush creep into her cheeks before she can even think to try and hide it, which probably would have proved useless anyways, since Mercedes has, like, hawk eyes when it comes to Brittany’s embarrassment.

Mercedes, sure enough, looks back and instantly spots Brittany’s blush, her grin taking on a wicked edge. “Oooh, is your girlfriend coming over?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Brittany mumbles automatically, but even as she says the words it kind of feels like she’s lying.

“In all but name maybe,” Mercedes says, and Brittany has to concede her point.

“The name part of that is kind of important,” Brittany argues as she drops the presents beside Mercedes’ suitcase.

“Maybe,” Mercedes concedes, “But the feelings part is pretty important too, and that’s definitely there.”

Brittany smiles a little, almost involuntarily, as the thought of being in love with Santana still fills her with bright warmth, and hums in acknowledgement. “I invited her to spend Christmas Eve here since neither of us had any plans.”

“I’m happy for you, Brittany,” Mercedes says softly, and Brittany grins bashfully down at her toes, too distracted by the warmth blooming in her chest realize that Mercedes has started smirking at her. “Just don’t christen any public places please.”

“Mercedes!” Brittany squeals, patting at her cheeks as the blush burning there flares up into an inferno.

“And make sure you kids stay hydrated and well-fed, you don’t want to run out of energy.”

“No no no!” Brittany shrieks, fleeing backwards towards the bathroom, her skin burning bright red from forehead to collarbone, “I take back anything I ever said when you and Sam got together!”

Mercedes smirks because, considering the teasing she got back then, there's no way she's going to give Brittany a break now that she's in love. "Make sure you're safe!" she calls.

“Oh shut up!” Brittany calls back before slamming the bathroom door shut.

///

Even though it’s Christmas Eve, the theatre is surprisingly—or not so surprisingly—packed, people already starting to filter into the lobby even as the company and crew take their last lunch break of the show’s run an hour before half hour. Brittany’s always antsy for last shows, both excited for it to be over so she can finally rest (and, this year, spend the evening with Santana) but dreading it because it means that there will never be another show like this, with this particular group of dancers and kids and crew, ever again.

Santana brings her lunch from that sandwich shop she loves, the same place she bought lunch for them that very first time, kickstarting their almost daily lunch and supper dates. Santana doesn’t bother with any pretences, just sinks down to the floor right beside Brittany, taking her left arm and draping it over her shoulder so they can cuddle and eat. Mercedes, Sam, Tina, and Mike all show up about halfway through their break with an assortment of food between all of them, sprawling on the floor to complete the circle in an impromptu picnic and fondly teasing Brittany and Santana as soon as they all realize their spending Christmas together.

Every single time Mercedes catches Brittany’s eye she feels heat crawl up into her cheeks at the knowing glint there. Santana seems to notice something tense—not bad tense, just the knowing and teasing tension when you know your friend is laughing at you across the room—and quickly takes Brittany’s free hand, as soon as they’re both done eating, and pulls it into her lap to play with her fingers, tracing the webbing between each finger and pressing down on her knuckles like piano keys. It eases the blush from Brittany’s cheeks and softens the teasing glint in Mercedes eyes, and Brittany soaks in the feeling of being surrounded by so much love, from her friends and from Santana, before the chaos of the last show overtakes them.

///

The audience is electric during Brittany’s last performance, knowing it’s their last chance to see this show until next year, and Brittany dances better than she ever has before, knowing that Santana is hidden in the curtains watching. She dances for the audience and she dances for herself but, mostly, she dances for Santana, for the woman who brought laughter and love into her life, who brought her family to her, who brought her love of Christmas back.

Her bow goes on longer than normal as the audience cheers for her, and she’s breathing quickly as pride fills her limbs in place of heavy exhaustion. She exits the stage to continuing applause, waiting in the wings for Jake to go on and do the opening of the Coda before she joins him. She feels someone watching her, and a smile tugs at her lips before she even turns to catch Santana’s eye, and the smile on Santana’s face makes her stomach flutter with about a bajillion butterflies, her chest blooming with warmth and love.

Santana shakes her head a little, still smiling softly, as if she can’t quite believe that Brittany’s real, and Brittany gives a small wave, feeling her heartbeat everywhere, before she turns back to the stage and prepares to join Jake for the Coda, Santana’s gaze heavy and warm on her back as she steps back into the lights.

///

Mercedes helps her out of her costume and unpins her hair quickly so she can rush off to meet Sam and they can try and beat the rush out of the city back to her parents’ house tonight; since it’s the twenty-fourth already, nobody has to pack the show back up into storage until after Christmas.

Mercedes gives Brittany a tight hug before she leaves, still continuing her teasing and making Brittany blush all the way to the tips of her ears as she chases her best friend out the door and runs straight into Santana, who quickly gives Mercedes a brief hug goodbye before turning to Brittany with a wide smile.

“Hi!” Brittany greets brightly, pretending her skin isn’t splotched with pink despite Santana’s adoring gaze on the blush in her cheeks.

“Hey,” Santana says softly. She’s already dressed in her jacket and has a small bag of overnight stuff in one hand, wearing the scarf and hat that Brittany had lent her last week and tying Brittany’s stomach into knots at seeing her own clothes on Santana. “You ready to go?” she asks.

Brittany nods and they just smile at each other for long moments—Brittany taking in this moment, this feeling, this girl—before Brittany turns to shrug on her jacket and collect her things. Santana stands patiently by the door, waiting until Brittany’s locked her dressing room before she reaches out to take her hand, their fingers tangling together easily as they head down the hallway, Brittany quickly easing Santana’s bag from her other hand so she can carry it for her, not missing the smile Santana gives her or the way her stomach ties itself into warm knots at how couple-y it feels.

They wave goodbye and wish Merry Christmases to their friends as the pass them on their way out of the theatre, deciding to walk back to Brittany’s apartment since it’s still pretty nice out despite the snow that falls in gentle swirls of white as they step out onto the street, dusting Santana’s borrowed hat in a thin layer of white and sparkling in her dark lashes. Santana glances up at Brittany and smiles, bright and unabashed and dimples-deep, before looking forward again with that breathless, flustered look she gets when she blushes. Her cheeks are a little pinked, from the cold or her blush Brittany’s not sure, but it makes liquid warmth pool in her stomach, so happy and so in love that she doesn’t know how anything in the world could ever feel better than this.

Her attention is drawn across the street where two men hold the hands of a little boy, helping him take a couple stumbling steps before swinging him into a high arc, his giggles bright with childlike innocence even across the lanes of slow moving traffic.

“He’s cute,” Santana says beside her, drawing Brittany’s eyes back to hers.

“You’re cute,” Brittany says automatically but sincerely. Santana rolls her eyes a little but doesn’t even bother to bite back her smile. “We should stop on the store on the way past. We can get something for supper and maybe, like, baking stuff or something?”

“Baking?” Santana teases, and Brittany shrugs a little.

“What? I may be a disaster in the kitchen when it comes to baking but I know you aren’t,” Brittany says with a smirk, “Tina told me.”

Santana gasps over-dramatically. “What a traitor!”

Brittany just giggles and tugs a little on Santana’s hand in hers, pulling them even closer together and soaking up this feeling of unbridled joy.

///

The grocery store is insane, but they’re in no rush so they just wander the aisles leisurely, dodging over-excited kids and frantic parents and slow old couples, giggling at everyone rushing around despite the fact that they both just feel comfortable and relaxed.

Santana carries their two bags of groceries and snacks since Brittany still has her bag, and they tangle their fingers together again as soon as they step back out into the weak winter sun. It’s already past five, but they’re still in no rush as they head back to Brittany’s apartment, discussing their plans on which Christmas movies they have to watch and which ones they’ll skip.

Brittany takes the groceries from Santana and drops them off in the kitchen, directing Santana to turn the tree on and set up the living room for their movie marathon, before heading down the hall to drop Santana’s bag off too. She stands in the hallway for a long moment, fighting an internal debate before she finally pushes her door open and drops Santana’s bag by the dresser; she’s honestly not being presumptuous, because Mercedes offered her room if needed, she’s just being hopeful.

By the time she gets the groceries put away and a couple hot chocolates made, Santana is already snugged up on the couch, one blanket over her lap and the other around her shoulders, the lights turned off except for the Christmas tree and the television screen; she’s already figured out the DVD player and the empty case to Home Alone sits on the shelf of her and Mercedes’ combined collection.

Santana brightens as soon as Brittany comes into her view, shifting around until she can lift both blankets up for Brittany. It takes a little bit of maneuvering, but eventually they get settled against each other, curled under the blankets, without spilling a drop of hot chocolate. Santana quickly hits play on the DVD remote before tossing it onto the coffee table and taking her mug from Brittany.

“I used to watch Home Alone every single year,” Santana says quietly, a nostalgic smile on her face, “And I kind of want to restart that tradition.”

“But you’re not home alone,” Brittany teases.

Santana tries to give her a smug smirk but her eyes are as soft as her voice, “Maybe I want to make some new traditions.”

And, really, what can she say to that without shouting her love from the rooftops? So instead she just cuddles further into Santana and sips her hot chocolate.

Even though they start out sitting under the blankets, as soon as they finish their hot chocolate they end up laying out on the couch, Brittany flat on her back with Santana sprawled on top of her, repurposing Brittany’s breasts into her own personal pillow, and the blankets wrapped around them. Brittany ends up spending more time watching Santana and playing with her hair than she does watching Santana’s favourite Christmas movie, but watching Santana is her favourite thing so it’s a pretty fair tradeoff.

Her mom calls about three-quarters of the way through Home Alone and Santana lifts herself off of Brittany just enough to reach the remote and pause the movie before cuddling back into her while Brittany talks to her mom and curls a strand of Santana’s hair around her finger, and it feels so domestic that she can’t imagine doing anything else for the rest of her life.

After Home Alone they take a break to make supper, giggling the entire time as they weave around each other in the kitchen and end up spending more time laughing than they do eating.

Brittany runs to the bathroom while Brittany sets up another movie, laying back on the couch and waiting for Santana to see her choice.

Santana’s gasp is as satisfying as Brittany thought it would be as she grins up at the ceiling, waiting until Santana rounds the couch to stand in front of her, blocking out the dim lights from the Christmas tree and the title screen for Gremlins on the television.

“Brittany!” Santana whines.

“Santana!” Brittany teases.

“I swear to god, Brittany, if I get nightmares from this,” Santana threatens toothlessly.

Brittany just giggles and tugs Santana down to the couch with ease. She falls onto Brittany and instantly softens and sighs in contentment as Brittany wraps both her arms tightly around Santana and draws her further into her embrace, nuzzling into Santana’s hair until she can kiss her forehead. “I’ll chase the nightmares away,” she promises. Santana’s breath hitches and she presses a kiss to Brittany’s collarbone, making Brittany’s skin burst into burning goosebumps at the feel of Santana’s soft lips on her skin.

“You better,” Santana mumbles into Brittany’s neck, waiting until Brittany reaches for the remote to play the movie before she nuzzles herself as close to Brittany as she can and still see the television.

Brittany thinks her heart might just burst from loving Santana so much.

///

They fall asleep sometime in the middle of Gremlins, waking up hours later to the twinkling Christmas lights against the night sky Brittany can see through the window, the television having automatically turned itself off after so long.

Brittany trails her fingers along Santana’s back and sides, drawing swirling patterns into the warm body above her with just enough pressure to gently wake Santana, who just cuddles further into Brittany instead of waking fully.

“We’re real party animals,” Brittany teases.

Santana grunts and nuzzles her nose into Brittany’s neck. “Saving it for New Year’s,” she grumbles.

Brittany laughs and feels a smile curl against her neck in response. They lay there for a couple more minutes until Santana finally emerges from Brittany’s neck, propping herself up on one elbow, the blanket falling from her shoulders, and glancing across the living room before gazing down at Brittany with the softest look on her face.

“Hi,” Brittany murmurs.

Santana’s eyes are liquid and dark and basically hold the secrets to the entire universe. “Hi,” she whispers, nodding her jaw towards the television with a small smile but not dropping her gaze from Brittany’s, “It’s eleven-eleven. Make a wish.”

Brittany glances to the side and sees the bright red time glowing on the television box thing that she never remembers the name of. She smiles and closes her eyes, wishing for the one thing she wants more than anything, the only thing she’s wanted all month.

“Did you make your wish?” Brittany asks after long moments of silence, her eyes still closed and her body feeling Santana along it even better with her lack of sight. Santana hums in acknowledgement and Brittany smiles blindly. “Good,” she whispers, “I hope it comes true.”

“Oh, I have a feeling it definitely will,” Santana murmurs, and the feeling of her thumb brushing along her cheek finally draws Brittany’s eyes open, fluttering at the sensation.

“Mine too,” Brittany whispers.

“Oh yeah?”

Brittany nods slowly, one hand stilling against the small of Santana’s back and the other one sliding along her shoulders under waves of dark hair, her fingers almost brushing the nape of Santana’s neck as Santana sighs and tilts her head down a little.

Santana’s face hovers a scant few inches above her own, the lights from the Christmas tree painting her skin in splotches of faint blue and red and green. One of Santana’s hands curls against the fabric of Brittany’s t-shirt, plucking and worrying the fabric between her fingers, her eyes caught on the peak of Brittany’s cheek but not actually meeting blue eyes.

“You’re nervous to kiss me,” Brittany realizes.

“I mean— Kinda?” Santana says sheepishly, “Not like nervous nervous but like— I mean we’ve literally been trying for forever and every time we do we get interrupted and now I’m worried that we’ll keep getting interrupted or it won’t be—”

And then—

Then Brittany slides her hand a little further up and guides Santana’s lips to her own, her rambling cut off by the gentle pressure of Brittany’s mouth moving slowly against hers. Santana’s lips part under Brittany’s and she lets out this breathy sigh into Brittany’s mouth and Brittany’s soul trembles with the weight of Santana’s lips against hers. Santana tastes faintly of chocolate, but something sweeter and deeper, and she tastes of summer nights on the west coast, bright and warm.

She tastes like home.

Santana’s fingers trail across her face as she presses closer, and Brittany feels both steady and like she’s about to float away, like everything over the past week, over the past mouth—probably over her entire life—has built towards this moment, like this is exactly what she was made to do. Santana’s lips move against hers with all the time in the world, like they’re stuck in a traffic jam with nowhere else to go, her lips soft and pliant against Brittany’s, eyelashes fluttering against the peak of her cheek, noses nudging together, and Brittany smiles into the kiss because this—

This is everything that Brittany’s been looking for her entire life.

She pulls back just far enough to press their foreheads together so she can try and breathe properly, but with Santana’s nose still nuzzling against hers that proves impossible. “Are you still nervous?” she whispers.

Santana doesn’t answer, she just uses the hand on Brittany’s jaw to guide their lips back together, and then they’re both smiling into the kiss, too wide for it to be anything more than all teeth and no finesse. Brittany lets her hand drift from the small of Santana’s back and start to wander her body under the blanket, the other playing with the baby fine hairs at the back of Santana’s neck.

Santana lets out a fluttery little sigh into Brittany’s mouth and Brittany can’t help but press up to kiss her harder again, and again, and again, and again—

///

When Brittany wakes up hours later in her bed, it’s to Santana drawing hearts on her bare stomach. Her fingers are light and soft against her skin and Brittany’s breath hitches; there’s no intent behind Santana’s touch, she doesn’t skate her fingers suggestively lower or higher, she just trails her fingers across Brittany’s skin with quiet marvel, and it jolts something in Brittany. No one’s ever touched her just for the sake of touching her and mapping her body before, just to connect the freckles and moles sprinkled across her torso into constellations, just to map each scar and imperfection that puckers her skin.

No one’s ever touched her just to learn every inch of her skin against their fingertips.

Santana realizes that Brittany is awake when the hand Brittany has curled over her waist starts lazily scratching at the soft skin there. She turns her head up towards Brittany and, even in the dim of the middle of the night, she can see the softness to Santana’s smile, the shadow of a dimple in her cheek, the love shining in her eyes, and something buzzing and warm tugs low in Brittany’s stomach as she falls in love with Santana all over again.

“Hi,” she whispers.

Santana’s smile widens a little. “Hi.”

“Merry Christmas,” Brittany says, reaching a hand up to tuck a strand of dark hair back behind Santana’s ear. She’s not sure exactly what time it is, but by the time they managed to untangle and stop kissing long enough to pull themselves up off the couch and stumble down the hall, the bright red time glowing on the television box thing had read 12:34.

Santana smiles and nuzzles into the hand that cups her jaw. “Merry Christmas,” she returns quietly.

Brittany leans up to press a soft, probing kiss to Santana’s lips, chaste and intimate all at once. “So did your wish come true?” she asks as she falls back to the pillow.

Santana nods and her smile loses its softness and takes on that playfully teasing look Brittany so adores. “Well, I wished that we would finally actually get to kiss without being interrupted, and, well,” she drags her hand down the bare skin of Brittany’s ribs to make her point and they both burst into laughter, Santana’s head dropping down to Brittany’s shoulder as they giggle. She presses a lingering kiss to the soft skin there and Brittany’s breath hitches as Santana props herself back up on her elbow, her other hand trailing circles on Brittany’s hip, and smiles softly at her. “What about you?” Santana whispers, “Did your wish come true?”

Brittany softens until she feels like she might melt right through her bed at the sweetness to Santana’s expression. She takes a moment to trace a heart on Santana’s hip before she smiles up at Santana. “Yeah, it did.”

Santana trails her hand up Brittany’s torso, skating her fingers against her breastbone and dipping into the hollow of her collarbone before she reaches Brittany’s face and cups her jaw, leaving a trail of buzzing heat in her wake. She leans down to press the softest of kisses to the corner of Brittany’s mouth and Brittany’s pretty sure her soul trembles at the contact. Santana draws back just barely enough to speak, her half-lidded eyes softening and the very tips of her lips brushing against Brittany’s chin as she speaks. “What was it?” she whispers.

Brittany just tilts her head up to press their lips together, both of them sighing at the contact.

“You,” she breathes, “Just you.”

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #my writing #story: be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe)#it's christmas eve??????#I'm literally in Shock that we're actually here????#this is the chapter that everyone (mostly me lmao) has been Impatiently Waiting for #me @ me: you should try writing a sort of slow burn fic to challenge yourself #also me @ me: OR you could just have them KISS right NOW #in other words this is the closest to a slow burn I'll ever get lmao

38 notes · View notes

oh-for-merlins-sake · 3 years

Text

SLOW BURN | gw | golden

summary: y/n, a local florist, stops in weasleys’ wizard wheezes for the first time and finds more than she bargained for. soon, she’ll teach george that there are many reasons to stop and smell the roses.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: alcohol

a/n: AAAAAH you guys i did not want to stop writing this!! i had so much fun, and i’m really happy with how it turned out! it was really challenging for me to write a “slow burn” relationship, but i hope i did it justice! as you’ll see, this is not a “song” fic, but a lyric (in bold and italics) was used. cheers to the first installment of the golden collection!!

taglist: @iliveiloveiwrite @andromedaa-tonks @pansydaisy @a-little-too-much @slytherinsunrise @marvelettesassemble @msmarklee1213 @letsgotothehop @finnishslytherin @starlightweasley @witch-and-a-half @darthwheezely @vogueweasley @gcdric @breadqueen95 (message/ask to be added/removed, loves!)

Blackbirds trilled overhead as you glided over the cobblestone path to work. The sun was finally reemerging from behind the dark, dreary clouds, which had just finished bathing the streets of Diagon Alley in a springtime shower. You admired the lingering smell of fresh rainwater that dripped from the eaves above you.

Today, you were taking a detour from your ordinary route. Your younger brother’s birthday was just around the corner, and you had yet to find a gift worthy of a teenage boy’s microscopic attention span and angst-ridden ennui. You smiled to yourself as you spotted the vibrant shop down the street with its mechanical mascot tipping his hat to you.

It was curious to you that this shop had a natural magnetism to people of all ages. If you hadn’t found a thing yet, this shop should surely hold something that would cater to your brother. You’d seen the troves of young wizards clamoring in a morning or two before.

As you approached the large front doors, you glanced at your watch: half an hour until the start of your shift. You strolled into the whimsical shop, dodging a Fanged Frisbee in the process. You slowly turned in place, eyeing the towering shelves of eccentric gadgets and vivid pyrotechnics. Truthfully, it was a little intimidating; where to start was beyond you.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?”

Startled by the sudden voice, you spun to face its origin. You were met with a tall, redheaded man with freckles that practically danced across his cheeks as he chuckled at your expression. Suddenly, you felt sheepish. “Sorry?”

“You looked a little...” he pondered the right word, “overwhelmed.”

You laughed, “To be honest, I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.”

He nodded, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Younger brother’s birthday?”

“How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” he shrugged.

You were quite impressed. As he motioned for you to follow him up the stairs to the next floor of the shop, you couldn’t help but notice how familiar he looked. Surely you’d seen him before — perhaps in line at Gringotts or sipping mead in the Leaky Cauldron. You couldn’t quite pin it.

You were relieved to leave the gargantuan fireworks below — on behalf of your mother mostly. You followed him to a wall of massive tubes that were filled to the brim with colorful candies.

“Our full collection of sweets,” he announced.

You eyed the assortment, noticing the words Puking Pastilles on a golden label. “Are these different flavors or...?”

“Yes, but more importantly, they serve different purposes. These, for example,” he pointed to the pastilles, “induce vomiting — perfect for skiving class!”

You chuckled. “Surely these aren’t allowed at Hogwarts?”

“‘Course not! But that’s what makes them so bloody popular — hot commodity,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “We’ve got a sweet for nearly every malady.”

“Who even thinks of this sort of thing?” you mused — again, thoroughly impressed.

“I guess we do,” he answered, leaning against the counter.

Your jaw dropped. “You made these?”

He shrugged, the faintest smirk on his lips, “I made everything.”

“Get out!” you laughed, pouring some candy into a purple plastic bag.

“Of my own shop?” he teased. “I don’t think so!”

You twist-tied the bag shut and turned to face him. “So you’re Weasley?”

“One of them, at least — George, to be exact.”

“That’s wicked!”

You noticed his freckled cheeks growing rosier by the second. “That’s awfully kind of you,” he said, waving dismissively.

“No, honestly! It’s incredible!”

As you reached for another plastic bag, George rushed over to interrupt. “Here,” he pointed to the display of Skiving Snackboxes. “Take one of these — they’ve got all our best-selling sweets in one box. Your brother’s sure to love it.” He led you over, plucking a box from the top and handing it to you. “On the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“I insist! Consider it an incentive.”

“An incentive?”

He nodded. “To come again.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, George — really! I just know he’ll love it!” As you turned the box in your hands, you caught sight of the time on your wrist: five ‘til. “Merlin!”

George furrowed his brows.

“I’ve got to go!” If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “But, perhaps you’ll stop by sometime. I can return the favor — clip you a free dozen roses for your girlfriend or something,” you rushed out.

“I’d have to find one first,” he chuckled, following you as you skipped down the steps towards the doors.

A warm blush flooded your face as you laughed nervously. You spun to face George one last time as he landed at the foot of the stairs. “Well, maybe you’ll stop by anyways.”

“Florist down the road?” he asked, pointing in the general direction.

“That’s exactly the one!” you called, stepping backwards onto the street.

You rushed down the path towards the florist, your step feeling a touch lighter than it did earlier. You noticed the result of the sudden sun after the storm: a rainbow hanging above the grinning man attached to the storefront.

“Aha!” you exclaimed, finally realizing why George had looked so familiar.

When you arrived at work, you swung the screen door into the greenhouse open, announcing your presence, “Sorry I’m late!”

“Not to worry, dear,” Muriel remarked.

Muriel hired you a few months prior, admiring your proclivity to gardening and greenery. She taught you something new every day without ever realizing she was doing so. Her green thumb had a knack for nurturing every flower both under and out of the sun. And her extraordinary eye for piecing together various plants and flowers to create a stunning and elegant arrangement never ceased to amaze you.

“Be a dear, Y/N, won’t you?” Jasmine grunted as she attempted to haul a heavy-bottomed, ceramic pot.

You threw your things onto a nearby stool and rushed over to lift the side closest to you. The two of you managed to hoist the pot just above the dirt floor to carry it to its destination.

“Re-potting the Wiggentree,” Jasmine explained, dusting off her hands. “Pretty soon it’s going to be too big to stay, mum,” she called to Muriel.

“Yes, I know, dear,” Muriel muttered, “That does not change the fact that it must be re-potted.”

Jasmine was less fond of gardening than her mother was. But if something unfortunate were to happen, the shop would fall to Jasmine, so she figured it’d be best to at least try and learn a thing or two.

You walked through the door leading directly from the greenhouse into the shop. “Morning, Candace!”

“Morning, Y/N!” the cheery teenager chirped as she balanced a vase full of violets on the counter.

A set of hooks adorned with various dirt-stained aprons lined the wall just behind it. You reached for the one with your initial embroidered in the upper right corner, quickly throwing it over your head and down your body. You tied a bow behind your back before throwing your hair up and stepping back into the greenhouse. You grabbed a pair of gloves and began heaving soil into the planter with Jasmine.

Beads of sweat were already forming on your forehead as the humidity of the greenhouse settled into your skin.

Re-potting the Wiggentree proved to be a difficult and timely task, taking up most of the morning. By lunchtime, you’d moved on to trimming daisies and de-thorning roses, and come sunset, you were planting hyacinth seeds and watering Flutterby bushes in the garden.

“Y/N,” Jasmine announced, stepping out from the greenhouse. “Someone’s here to see you.”

You wound your way through the garden and the greenhouse, stepping into the shop in search of your guest. Candace giggled as she zipped her coat and nodded towards the front door. You stepped onto the patio, where the outdoor displays danced in the gentlest of breezes. You were shocked to spot George leaning over to smell the roses.

“George?” you laughed. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Someone said something about roses,” he teased.

“Well,” you began, walking over and gesturing to the basket of pretty, pink roses, “What do you think?”

“Well worth the walk over here,” he answered, smiling brightly at you as he rocked on his heels with his hands in his coat pockets.

Jasmine rushed onto the patio with her jacket and purse draped over her shoulder and swiftly said, “Y/N, I completely forgot about my mother-in-law’s birthday dinner, and Candace just left! I’m so sorry — would you mind —”

“Go on!” you hurried, waving her off of the patio, “I’ll close up!”

“Thank you, Y/N!” she called over her shoulder, “You’re an angel!”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes in amusement as she disappeared around the corner.

“I’ve got to tidy a few things but... the bar down the street doesn’t close for an hour,” you began, your heart fluttering as your stomach burst with butterflies, “We should take a walk and look at all the flowers down the alley.” You chuckled, feeling your face grow warm, “I planted half of them.”

George smiled, a light laugh gracing his lips, “All right, sounds good then.”

George busied himself with the outdoor displays while you prepared the shop for closing. He brushed his calloused fingers over the delicate flower petals, occasionally indulging in their sweet scents. He imagined how you likely smelled of flowers after a long day of work, and how that would be the perfect antidote to the lingering smell of gunpowder that constantly plagued his pillows.

“Ready?” you asked, stepping back onto the patio.

“More than ever,” he said.

As you walked down the alley together, you pointed out flowerbed after flowerbed resting on the windowsills of various shops and bakeries. Your favorites, he learned, were always the dahlias. He was surprised by the natural beauty that erupted from the brick and stone storefronts, and even more so by the fact that he never once paid attention to any of it. How could he have missed this?

“Merlin!” you gasped, rushing over to Mr. Reilly’s butcher shop. “Mr. Reilly has been doing an absolute lovely job tending to his poppies! You see, when I first popped in, he swore to Godric that he was incapable of keeping anything alive but himself, but look!”

George laughed, racing to keep up with you.

You led him to the pub that had just opened the month prior, Brenda’s Brews, whose owner agreed with your suggestion of keeping a few Fire Seed bushes out front to “really grab the people’s attention!”

Upon entering the pub, Brenda greeted you from behind the bar, “The usual, Y/N?”

“Two please!” you called, sliding a few sickles across the counter faster than George was able to dive into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it,” you winked.

“Okay, but next one’s on me, yeah?”

“No, no, consider it a thank you for earlier,” you said, raising your glass.

George clinked his glass with yours before sipping from the foamy ale. “Good choice,” he nodded.

“Can’t go wrong with a little Dragon Scale,” you remarked, savoring in its tangy, bitter taste.

“I’ve got to ask,” George began, setting his glass down on a coaster with The Weird Sisters plastered on it, “It seems like you know everyone in this bloody part of town. How come we haven’t met? Have you been here long?”

You laughed at his disbelief. “I’ve only been here a few months, so I haven’t quite gotten to everyone yet — for example, Number 93,” you muttered as you fidgeted with your diminishing glass.

“That’s wild,” he paused before snapping his fingers and saying, “Y/N?”

“Y/N,” you confirmed, taking a swig from your glass.

“And you’ve already made that big of an impact on everyone?” he continued.

You blushed, feeling flooded with a sudden warmth. You were quite flattered by the idea that you may mean something to this place; a place that was so new and intimidating not that long ago; somewhere you were certain a florist could never thrive: the middle of the city.

Perhaps the finger pricks from a thorn every now and then was worth it.

You shrugged bashfully, “I don’t know about all that.”

“Y/N,” a bartender called as he raced past, carrying two different mugs with different colored ales, “May loved the mayflowers! She said yes, by the way!”

You clapped, squealing in excitement, “Congratulations, Borden!”

George raised his eyebrows, as if to say, See?

Brenda bellowed, “Last call!”

You checked your watch: half an hour until close.

And despite the short burst of time remaining, it felt as though you’d been laughing and chatting away with George for hours. If someone insisted that they’d magically slowed time, you might have believed them. It felt so familiar to talk to George; it came so naturally. You wondered if he’d been talking since birth, given the way he animatedly told stories and produced witty comebacks within nanoseconds of the original comment.

At last, your glasses had been drained of their contents, and Brenda was shooing the last of the stragglers out the door. George followed behind you as you ducked out, calling goodbye to Brenda and Borden back inside.

Perhaps you’d been imagining it, but it certainly seemed that you and George were walking much closer together than you had been originally. One misstep and you might have brushed his hand.

You were suddenly distracted by the vibrant purple dahlias sitting outside of Rosa Lee’s. You raced over, carefully assessing exactly which flower to pick, explaining, “She won’t mind, I give her a new basket every week.”

George felt suddenly in awe of your natural grace and delight. It seemed so simple to please you: a dainty dahlia was all you needed to feel like the world was a good enough place to live. In a way, he envied your childlike wonder; it was different than the one exhibited in his shop by his products. It paid attention to the smaller things in life, rather than inciting big, booming bangs. It provided a sense of serenity.

You giggled and tucked the flower behind his right ear. He blushed as your hand gently grazed his skin. “How do I look?” he managed.

“Beautiful,” you said sincerely.

You continued walking as George fiddled with the dahlia. “Your favorite, right?” he asked, pointing to it.

“That is correct, sir,” you answered, impressed by his memory.

Once you reached Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, George leaned against the door and twiddled with the tiny flower between his fingers. He considered asking you inside, despite the lights clearly being off, indicating that the shop was clearly closed, and therefore, indicating that he meant inside his flat.

Likewise, you pondered the same prospect. You wondered if it’d be too forward: to suggest the idea of coming inside. Perhaps, tonight wasn’t the night.

And that was all right.

“Well, George,” you sighed, “I must say I’m really glad I stepped into this wacky shop of yours today.”

“I’d say the same,” he said earnestly.

You paused. “You’ll have to stop by again... you know, to finish off your bouquet,” you said, gesturing towards the dahlia.

He smiled. “You’ll be there tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, a smile growing on your lips. You stepped onto the street and waved.

The sight of George waving back with a lopsided grin on his freckled face was enough to tide you over until next time. You spun in place and apparated home.

Honestly, George liked the idea of taking his time, carefully picking flowers — a few each day — until his bouquet was erupting from its vase.

Maybe then, you’d come in.

#george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #hp fanfiction #george weasley x fem!reader #golden collection

408 notes · View notes

lowkeyorloki · 4 years

Note

You're generally thought of to have really good characterization of Loki in this fandom (I'd say that's what you're known for???), so I was wondering if you could give some tips on how to write Loki? And maybe some general tips on writing imagines/x readers?

Hi there anon! First, thank you very much for such a high compliment. I think any fanfiction author would agree when I say being told we get our muse’s characterization correct is one of the highest compliments we can be given, so THANK YOU!

I would be happy to give you some advice, but keep in mind, this is just my interpretation of Loki. You, and any other author, are allowed to take creative control and do with his character what you will. This is just what works for me!

For Imagines/X Reader Fics

This is my third imagines blog, so I have been doing x readers for a long time. If you’re looking to expand your following, I would start out doing preferences. This is when you take a group of people from the same piece of media (in Marvel, a good example would be the whole team of The Avengers) and basically write a little drabble for each of them in one post. This will allow you to use multiple character tags, which means your posts are more likely to circulate. From there, you can totally branch off and have an emphasis on one character, or create a whole new sideblog for one character that people from your already-established following can find. I used this method twice and it worked really well- it also lets people see you can write for different types of characters, which is always a plus.

Tags! Use as many tags as you can, because that’s how people find your work. Make sure to use some with your muse’s first name, and some with their first and last. For imagines specifically, I would always make sure you have “(name) x reader”, “(name) x you”, and “(name) imagine”, because those are what people usually search for.

Avoid physical descriptions. “Reader” is just that: the reader. Not everyone has blue eyes, not everyone has long hair, not everyone is white, etc. etc. If you really want to write a character with specific physical traits, then you should develop an OC. It rips your readers out of your fics when they’re described in a way that doesn’t fit them, and can also really harm their confidence- the only descriptions of someone’s appearance I’ve ever seen in x readers are features that are considered conventionally attractive, so it’s important to be mindful of any implicit biases you may have.

...You also have to keep the reader as a character somewhat neutral, because they are supposed to be whoever is consuming your fic. If you’re going to give them character traits, justify them with your story. You want your reader to be trained in hand-to-hand combat? They took martial arts as a kid. You want your reader to be the smartest in their field? Give them a backstory that made them that way. It’s personality traits you have to look out for, because if someone’s personality doesn’t match with “y/n’s”, that person isn’t going to be able to read your works.

Speaking of y/n, I would suggest not using it at all. I’ve recently stopped using it due to my own experience and feedback from my followers. Most people don’t see y/n and replace it with their name, it just becomes a reminder they’re reading something. Your goal is to immerse your readers in your fics, and I’ve found this often has the opposite effect. There are a lot of ways to avoid y/n, such as pet names (darling, baby, love) or creative phrasing (”your name passed over his lips, whispered softly like he had never heard it before”). It can be a challenge, but writing always is!

If possible, keep your reader gender neutral. This sounds a lot harder than it is. Especially in the Loki fandom, there are a lot more male readers than you think, and there are people who don’t conform to either gender. Not assigning pronouns makes your reading more accessible (which also means more exposure!!!) and also allows everyone to find a place in fandom. The only times it becomes a problem is when other characters are talking about the reader behind their back, or when writing smut. In my case, I do my best avoid the first option and, until I find a solution, I do use gender and everything associated with it in smut. However, if none of these appeal to you, you can also copy and paste your fics to have different pronouns.

Strategically place that “keep reading”, it’s a good way to get readers hooked!

For Loki’s Character

In my opinion, Loki is all about a balance of vulnerability. We all love to see him be loving and open and intimately intwined with someone, but it would take a lot of time to get there with him. For that reason, if you’re wanting to write that side of the Trickster, I would make your fic an established relationship or slow burn. If that doesn’t sound like something you want to do, a lot of faults in writing can be forgiven if you call them out yourself. Does something feel too random? Say it was sudden or unexpected. This shifts blame from you and actually becomes a characterization choice: now, instead of you possibly misinterpreting Loki’s character, he and the reader have so much chemistry with each other they’re acting differently than they normally would.

Loki (and Thor’s) way of speaking is a HUGE factor of any fics with him. Loki has a different colloquial than we do, and thanks to Tom Hiddleston’s really sexy voice, it’s something closely associated with the character. So, we have to walk a line of Loki’s words being formal, but not being out of touch. He was able to assimilate easily (that’s part of the reason he was such a threat in Avengers), and is super clever and picks up on a lot of things. Therefore, Loki is more likely to address Tony as “Stark” rather than “Man of Iron”, and I think it’s fair to say he knows the name “Coulson” doesn’t refer to the SHIELD agent’s lineage (he’s probably not going to call him “Son of Coul”). But phrasing is also a part of this. I try to avoid contractions coming out of his mouth, so “you are” instead of “you’re”, “he is” instead of “he’s”, etc. etc.

Loki also isn’t going to say things we normally would: As humans, we tend to exclaim “Oh my god!” or something along those lines. But Loki was brought being told he was a god, so that isn’t going to be in his vocabulary. It’s little things like this I keep an eye on when I’m writing for him.

A good way to accomplish Loki’s speech is just... adding words the modern world has deemed unnecessary. A recent example of mine is in one of my fics, Loki is asking the reader what a group of characters want from her. Originally, I had him saying “What do they want?”, and while editing, I changed it to “What is it that they want?.” It’s subtle, but when this is how most of the Loki’s sentences are structured, it calls back to the Loki we saw in earlier Thor films (regardless of your opinion on Ragnarak, the Shakespearean-esque language is gone by the film) and creates a simulation of sorts that makes your reader feel more in tune with your story. Not to keep using this word, but it’s a technique that immerses your reader.

Make sure your style matches Loki! I have a very dramatic and articulate style, lots commas, lots of (carefully placed) repetition, and paragraph breaks. This works for Loki because he’s such an emotional and complex character, and my style compliments and emphasizes that.

Readers respond well to your style correlating with your character: Compare my fics Aftermath or Wounds to A Mortal Occurance. Aftermath and Wounds are written in the style I described above, and are approaching 500 and 400 notes respectively; whereas I tried a more domestic and conversational style in A Mortal Occurance, which has yet to reach even 150 notes. While there’s definitely something to be said about people subscribing to you for one specific form of writing, it would be impossible for me to deny one style is not only more true to me, but more true and realistic to Loki. Think of if I wrote in my style for Ant-Man or Sam Wilson. It wouldn’t really work because their characters aren’t as high-stakes as Loki.

I hope this all helps! Remember this is just my opinion and is what has worked for me. You’re free to take all this to heart or completely reject it. I’m honored you came to me in the first place <3

#ask #loki #loki laufeyson #writing help #i guess? saying it helped may be a stretch lmao #imagine #imagines #x reader #writing advice #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #this is probably a #delete later

70 notes · View notes

allisondraste · 4 years

Text

Love Yourself Challenge

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Thank you to the lovely @rpgwarrior4824 @ladymdc and @aban-asaara for thinking of me! (I also know that a couple of you tagged me few days ago and I am sorry for just now getting to it! In return I’ll tag @sarenkascrawls@laurelsofhighever@kirkwallgremlin @bitchesofostwick @chaotic-good-hawke @darlingrutherford @ravenqueen89 @ellenembee @kagetsukai and @ anyone else who sees this and wants to love themselves! You’ve been tagged. No pressure of course and sorry for any double tags (I tried to tag people I hadn’t seen do one of these yet, but I’m sure I missed someone)!

1. Temperance [Fic]

I just waxed poetic about Temperance in an ask, but here I am about to do it again, and I am sorry to those of you who subject yourself to following me. Temperance is my 42 chapter, completed coming of age, best friends-to-lovers, slow burn long fic that follows Nathaniel Howe and Elissa (or as she prefers “Liss”) Cousland in their formative years and then into adulthood! It’s told in a non-linear style, alternating between past an present with a lot of teenage (and adult) angst in between. It also features my Hero of Ferelden, Lucia Amell and Alistair as supporting characters with a host of cameos. It’s my first ever completed longfic, and to be quite honest I’m having some melancholy about it being finished. I miss spending time with Nate and Liss each week, and while I do have some short works and a sequel planned I’m trying to let myself rest and process everything first. <3

2. Run to You [Art]

I don’t talk about this a lot because I really try to stay out of the negative headspace where I let myself thing of these things, but I am highly sensitive and overly critical about my art in ways that I am not about my writing. I view writing as a thing that I just picked up recently, while art is something I have steadily worked at my whole life. I’m not often pleased with my art when I post it. HOWEVER, this piece that I made of Nate and Liss is one that I often look at and wonder how that’s something my hands did. It’s probably one of my favorite artworks I’ve done EVER.

3. Informality [Fic]

I believe I talked about this one earlier in an ask, too! Informality is a little, for-fun oneshot I wrote in which Alistair and Zevran have a discussion about Antivan culture, and Zevran proceeds to insist that he teach Alistair to dance. I think my writing is at it’s strongest when I get to explore characters through banter and dialogue, and even though I wrote this a while back I’m still proud of it when I read it today. It’s also just silly and fun and not my typical hurt/comfort stuff!

4. This Liss I Drew For Inktober Day 1 [Art]

Going along with what I said above, it’s rare that I make art that I’m proud of, but this is one of those pieces, and it was one I did really quickly too. I’m sure there’s some metaphor about pots and quantity breeding quality that applies here, but yeah, I still really like this one :)

5. Should Have Ruined Me [Fic]

This is a prompt fill that features Young!Solas back before he put up the Veil and the goddess Andruil who has once again ensnared him in a trap. I think what I love about this piece is that writing it felt like I was writing a Great Myth, a Tale, a Legend. I think something that a lot of those tales from real life mythology share is that they feature these incredibly powerful beings and their tempestuous relationships, not only with their subjects but with one another. And this was sort of a play on that. It was very very fun to write.

#love yourself challenge #tags #my writing #dragon age #positivity #i really needed this #i've been feeling meh #about everything #but also about the stuff I make #so it was nice to get to brag a little and cheer myself up #thank you all

27 notes · View notes

rae-gar-targaryen · 5 years

Text

only as alone as i wanna be | [bh]

A/N: Well instead of working on my Peter Parker writing challenge fic, Billy Hargrove won’t leave my brain alone. So here we go.

I’ve retconned the Billy & Max relationship a bit for this, so it’s a lil au. Sorry!

Please let me know if you think I should continue!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader (I’m still trying to get the hang of writing for the “reader.” Hopefully this is vague enough that you can imagine yourself. If not, send me feedback so I can get better!)

Warnings: Language. Passing, vague mentions of sex. Some Billy Hargrove chain-smoking. Bad writing with a jumpy plot. Seriously, I think I’m way too abrupt. Please send feedback. This one is probably doomed for a re-write.

Word Count: 2.4k of nonsensical, self-important musical references and haphazard, fleeting feelings.

Summary: The snarky record store girl does not like Billy Hargrove. Not at all.

**NOT MY GIF!**

—

Winter, 1984

The bell dinged above the door, a jarring interval between the wistful tones of Siouxsie and the Banshees’ Take Me Back. Prompting you to look up from your stack of records in mild annoyance. It had been such a productive day until now, and the vinyl wasn’t going to restock itself.

Well.

Had you known Mr. Born-In-The-USA-Bruce-Springsteen himself was going to walk in, you would’ve played something far less his taste than Siouxsie. Just to annoy him. Serves him right, right?

He paused in the doorway of the shop, wrinkling his nose almost imperceptibly as the sound hit his ears, before striding on toward the “Pop/Rock” section of the store, thumbing his way through Motley Crue’s latest.

Figures, you thought. A man who douses himself with as much commercial-ass hairspray and cologne would like some commercial-ass garbage “metal.” Besides, you’d walked past the blue Camaro enough times in the school parking lot to hear the dulcet tones of whatever bland-ass hair metal he was currently into trying its best to blast the doors off of his beloved metal steed.

You felt a twinge of guilt. You shouldn’t judge the customers for their musical taste so quickly– but between the old church ladies who came in for Handel’s Messiah or whatever they had heard over public radio that week, and the girls from your class riffing on Madonna, you had had just about enough.

Hadn’t anyone experienced the true depth of Queen? Keep Yourself Alive, man!

You had been working at Hawkins’ local record store during the summers since childhood – Old Mr. Cohen who owned the place used to let you sort tapes into piles for cents on the hour until you were old enough for a real job. Immersed in the music since a young age, you appreciated the breadth and depth the shop had to offer– your favorites developing into pieces heavy on synth. Bonus points if the lyrics made you feel especially existential. You loved that moody shit.

Now, at 17, you practically ran the place, Mr. Cohen comfortable with leaving you to your devices at the store, so long as the till was counted and inventory was properly stocked. You were grateful for the freedom– squeezing homework into slow nights and chatting about deeper portions of discography with regulars.

Billy Hargrove was not a regular. Neither did he promise a slow night, if the rumors amongst your female classmates were to be believed. Not that you partook in the Hawkins High rumor mill.

He was a recent, but obtrusive, arrival in your high school’s social scene. Mere months into his appearance in your town and the age-in-kind female population had seemingly lost their brain cells faster than inhaling their usual clouds of hairspray could do it for them.

Still, you had to admit, he was good-looking. The Springsteen comparison was apt. Billy Hargrove wore jeans like he was doing the denim a favor. His shirts usually two-thirds of the way unbuttoned, even in winter, which was not an unkind sight. His sun-kissed, California boy skin stood a stark contrast to the pallor of the Indiana natives you grew up with. His eyes were crystalline and swam like oceans of trouble and broken promises.

My god. You were a moody-ass bitch. Waxing poetic about this jock-strap of a human being who you’d heard pummelled Steve Harrington and nearly drowned himself in beer and barely-legal pussy. Come on, babe. Get it together.

He strode up to you at the counter, his boots clunking against the store’s tiled floor. Shout at the Devil was clutched in his fist.

He dropped the vinyl on the counter, eyes cast down and swiping a cigarette out of the packet in his jacket pocket and lighting up, the clink-thwip of his lighter meeting your ears before you could tell him to put it out.

“You can’t do that in here,” you told him.

He hummed in not-acknowledgment-acknowledgment, choosing to ignore you as he inhaled deeply.

“Seriously, dude. Old man Cohen hates that shit. Put it out or go outside and finish it. If your tits don’t freeze off. Since they’re, you know, halfway out of your shirt like that? You do know it’s December. In Indiana. Right?” You pressed, knowing full well you were being obnoxious. If only to make a point. Game recognize game, right?

He looked up, ocean eyes meeting your own. His frown was instantaneous.

“Fine,” he huffed. Before promptly stubbing out his cigarette on your freshly wiped counter, dropping the butt to the floor and twisting it under his booted heel.

“Ugh. Come on, man. I have to clean that now.”

“You were so adamant about it before.”

“Whatever man. Just the Motley Crue for you today?” You pressed. Why is he prolonging this interaction?

He rolled his eyes, his line of sight catching on the promotional sign above the counter.

“Well, now, that says new vinyl is two for one. Which one can I get with this?”

You dropped your head and exhaled deeply– So this was how this evening was going to go. You gestured at the New Release wall to the left of the front counter.

“Anything from here, Pretty Boy. New vinyl.”

Cool as you please, if you please.

Billy glanced at you, sensing your annoyance. A smirk graced his lips. He knew if he prolonged this interaction it would surely get a rise out of you.

He held up Burning From the Inside, Bauhaus’s latest release. New, but not new.

“What about this one? Cover art is alright.” He gestured at the gothica aesthetic adorning the front jacket.

“That’s Bauhaus,” you informed him, as though that would explain everything.

“Bauhaus? What is that?”

You snorted.

“No, seriously. What is that? Is that like … a sex thing?” he asked, derisively.

“It’s not a sex thing. It’s more of a not-your-kind-of-thing thing,” you stated primly.

“And how would you know what my thing is, princess? I’m guessing by the black-on-black and torn fishnets you’d be all to familiar with whatever a Bauhaus is,” he retorted.

“Well….” You went to the used pile and grabbed Press Eject and Give Me the Tape, before putting it over the speakers. As Bela Lugosi’s Dead started to play throughout the store, Billy looked unamused.

“They broke up last year. Gone too soon,” you explained, wistfully. You put your hand over your heart as though in mourning.

He leaned one arm on the counter, Motley Crue seemingly long forgotten.

“So, what is this song?”

“Bela Lugosi’s Dead? Like, Stairway to Heaven, but for goths, I guess,” you reasoned. “I’m guessing you’re more of a Scorpions kind of guy? We have Love At First Sting,” you gestured vaguely toward the wall.

Billy quirked an eyebrow at you.

“And how would you know what kind of guy I am, princess?” His voice lowering as he leans even further over the counter.

“Um. If the female population at our school is to be believed? Well, you get it…” you trailed off. “Plus, I don’t know, have you looked in a mirror lately? Scratch that. You probably don’t stop looking in mirrors. Should I cover the reflective surfaces in the store, lest you get distracted?”

Billy at least had the decency to look shocked at your barb.

But not before recovering quickly.

“Maybe you just cover the reflective surfaces in here to hide the fact that you don’t have a reflection,” he quipped.

You were stunned. Your eyes widened.

“Was that a– vampire joke, Hargrove?”

Billy shrugged. “Well, If the post-punk bullshit shoe fits… I mean, what even is playing over the speakers right now? I’m in here enough to know Cohen lets his employees pick the music from the Used pile during their shifts. Though clearly I don’t come in often enough during your shifts.”

“Thank God for that,” you sighed.

Deciding he’d had enough of the banter, Billy snagged Black Flag’s latest off of the New Release wall.

“Two for one, right?” he snarked, slapping down enough cash for one album before grabbing his findings off of the counter and striding out into the wintery evening– the bell over the door clanging after him for good measure. Like an exclamation point on whatever the ever loving fuck that conversation was. Did you— offend him??

You decided, sweeping up the not-forgotten ash from his cigarette off the floor that you didn’t ever need to have an interaction with Billy Hargrove again. You were most decidedly not post-punk bullshit.

–

Billy Hargrove had never been so ruffled in all of his life.

Throwing the two vinyl sleeves down in the passenger seat of his beloved Camaro, he slammed the door behind him.

Clink-Thwip.

Billy lit up, the chemical rush of his deep inhale-exhale instantly soothing his frazzled nerves.

He flicked the lid of his lighter a few more times, for good measure. A nervous habit. Clink-Thunk. Clink-Thunk. Clink-Thunk.

“ ‘Never stop looking in a mirror,’ my ass,” he grumbled, meeting his eyes in the rear-view before realizing what he was doing and looking away.

He’d seen that girl before. She sat alone in the cafeteria most times, headphones on, reading a book. She seemed like the type to enjoy Slyvia Plath. Not that he knew enough about Slyvia Plath to really know what that type of girl was. He swore his mom owned a coverworn copy of some novel or another with that name on it.

He drove away, tires squealing behind him, hair metal blasting from his speakers. Okay, so maybe you’d been right about his musical taste. It’s not like he’d give you the satisfaction. Besides, he’d bought BLACK FLAG, for Christ’s sake. You didn’t know him.

But still, he couldn’t deny, there was something about your demeanor. Your witticism. Your bad type. And yeah, maybe he’d sneaked a peek at your ass when you came around from the counter to scold him for smoking. Sue him, he was only human.

He knew there was more to you. A sweet undertone– like peaches and cream. Also maybe he liked ruffling your proverbial feathers. Just maybe.

He had asked Tommy about you at school the next day.

Tommy shrugged, but not before looking over at the corner of the cafeteria where you sat.

“I don’t know man. She’s hot. But, like, in the way weird girls are hot. You can look, but touching may cost you.”

Billy didn’t know what that meant. But Tommy was literally too stupid to insult. So he bit back a comment effectuating that he didn’t care and slammed the rest of his can of Coke.

–

You had seen him before. From his tire-squealing entry into your town, you were certain you’d had him pegged from Jump Street. The chain-smoking, that infernal clink-twhip of his American Flag lighter. The keg stands. The raucous screaming in Steve Harrington’s face.

“Plant your feet, Harrington!”

Plant your feet indeed. Lest you be bowled over with unwanted, obtrusive thoughts of the potential depths of Billy Hargrove’s soul. If such a thing existed.

Seriously, though. Why would he buy a Black Flag album? If there was one thing Billy Hargrove was not, you decided, it was punk rock.

You’d seen him take his sister to the arcade, and wait for her after school. Was it brotherly affection that motivated these little Babysitter’s Club moments, or was he forced to? Still, you saw the way that girl on the skateboard looked up at her seemingly cool older brother. Like he hung the stars.

He did brush off Tina after the basketball game last week. And, he bought Black Flag. That man had never listened to Black Flag in all of his life. You were sure of it.

Could he really be all bad?

–

The semester pressed on. Billy Hargrove at the fringe of your thoughts and your eye-line. Was he trying to talk to you in school?

You had the closing shift at the store again on Saturday. You were in the midst of carrying a box of tapes up the stairs from the storage room when you heard the ding of the bell above the door. You sighed, put the box down, and made your way toward the front to greet the customer. Upon seeing the back of Billy Hargrove’s perfectly coiffed, curly head, you were ready to turn back around and act like you hadn’t seen him. Too late. He clearly knew you were working.

“Please don’t let it be you,” you groaned.

“No promises, dollface.”

You stood in front of him, hands on your hips.

“So? What can I do for you?”

Billy smirked. “I can think of a few things, sweetheart,” he drawled, quirking a perfectly arched brow just so. You hated that you now noticed these things about Billy Hargrove’s perfectly stupid and stupidly perfect face.

“I don’t have time for this, Pretty Boy.”

“When are you off?” He asked.

“After close,” you said.

“Go out with me.” Billy Hargrove said, now surely unsure of himself.

“And why in the ever-loving-fuck would I do that?” You had to hand it to yourself. You were doing a damn good job of looking like you didn’t care. Meanwhile, your insides were pudding and you were just sure he knew it, too.

“Because you want to. Because I want you to. Because– Because I want to. Because I listened to Black Flag. Because I get your whole thing, plaid skirt and all,” he stated, gesturing vaguely over your person.

You rolled your eyes, choosing not to answer him. Instead, you diverted. Diversion is good, right?

“Where’s your usual crowd of hairsprayed hangers-on? Or are you always alone after school?”

“Only as alone as I wanna be, doll,” He drawled.

You’d had to hand it to Billy Hargrove. He could definitely turn a phrase when he wanted to. His crystalline eyes could definitely see right through you. As the flush travelled through your body, taking in his artful smirk and powerful visage, you knew:

Billy Hargrove was going to be the death of you. Like the satisfyingly sweet pour of languid waves of syrup cascading over waffles, drowning you in a beautiful, thick avalanche of a saccharine dream. A powdered sugar kiss dusting over your better senses, coating them in the flush of dripping endearment.

Surely you could be alone together? The crystal ball and the odyssey.

Would you go?

tagging bc you inspire me:

@nappingtopknot @ayeayecaptaingally @hey-its-grey @tigerlilynoh @andallthatmishigas @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @youngmoneymilla @noturjacky (If you don’t want to be tagged, feel free to ignore, or tell me firmly -- but possibly politely?? to fuck off)

375 notes · View notes

benbarnesfrustration · 5 years

Text

Black Days 2

I received an ask about making my one-shot Black Days into a series, and I was considering it when I came across the 10 Marvelous Things I Hate About You Writing Challenge. All the pieces started to fall into place. Here we go, and I hope you enjoy!

Prompt 1: “I loooove your Black Days fic and want more. Would you consider making that a series?”

Prompt 2: 10 Marvelous Things I Hate About You Writing Challenge #41: “Unless she kicked the crap out of your dumb butt, I don’t wanna hear about it”

Rated T for angst and language, but part one is rated M for all the smut.

TW: discussion about war-like situations, references to sex, language, training with weapons

Word Count: 1975

Black Days Part 1

It had been a few days since the ambush outside of Kandahar, and your military base was abuzz about what went down. Lt. Russo and yourself were thoroughly debriefed, and as the only two survivors of the attack, you were treated like minor celebrities among the other military personnel. It was determined by the general in charge that everything was done by the book, and there really was nothing else you could have done to avoid the loss of life, which ended up totaling 16 American troops, five Afghan soldiers, and six al-Qaeda fighters. War was messy, and Kandahar was nothing but one big fucking mess.

You were successfully extracted from the bombed out old hospital in which you took shelter. While waiting for help, Lt. Russo had skillfully dug a bullet out of your arm and then...well. Things took an unexpected turn. Psychologists speak of such moments of heightened sexual arousal after a traumatic event; it’s the mind’s way of coping with something horrifying. It also didn’t help that the Lieutenant was an extremely good looking man-- the guy looked like a model.

You hadn’t seen him since the debriefing. You figured he was busy, especially considering he was an officer. Or perhaps he was just avoiding you, since the two of you crossed a line that could cost him his military career. Either way, you weren’t surprised.

“So I did something really stupid,” Russo said.

Frank looked up from his guitar and fixed his best friend with a look. “What’d you do this time Bill?”

Russo lay on his cot staring at the ceiling of their tent. “I had an intimate encounter with a subordinate.”

That surprised even Frank. “Jesus Bill. That’s bad even for you,” he replied, shaking his head..

“OK, before you get ideas, let me tell you it's probably not what you’re thinking,” Billy said while sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the cot to face his friend.

“Oh? Then how was it Bill?”

Russo sighed. “We had barely gotten out of that attack alive. We were alone, injured....adrenaline, pheromones...”

Frank laughed. “Spare me the chemistry lesson.”

“I kissed her,” Russo said, and looking embarrassed. “And then--”

“Unless she kicked the crap out of your dumb butt, I don’t wanna hear about it,” Frank interjected with a chuckle.

“No,” Russo said, grinning. “No, she was into it. And let’s say things progressed from there. A lot.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You telling me you slept with this girl? A soldier??” Frank hissed. “You’re going to be court-martialed, you idiot.”

Bill shook his head defensively. “The fraternization policies are stupid, if two people who almost died can’t blow off a little steam--”

“Listen to yourself.” Frank interrupted. “What if she talks? What if she has second thoughts and reports you?”

“She won’t. It’s not like that. We had fun, that’s all.”

“You didn’t take advantage of her?” Frank asked, pointing a finger at Russo.

“Christ, Frank, No!” Russo replied defensively. “I actually tried to stop it at first.”

“You think that’ll matter? You’re the officer Bill. You should have known better.”

"Well I’m sorry I told you Frank. Jesus, don’t have to judge me!” Russo slumped back against his pillow and ran a hand through his hair.

Frank sighed, and when he spoke, he was careful to use a gentler tone. “I’m not judging you. I just don’t want you to get in trouble. So what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea,” Russo said. “What can I do?”

Frank shook his head. “If I told you to drop it, would you listen?”

“Probably not,” Russo laughed.

Your dreams were all over the place. One minute you were running from bullets, and the next you felt hands on your skin. Deep kisses, then blood. Chaos and terror warred with ecstasy. You couldn’t sleep more than an hour or so at a time, and you were feeling the strain during the day.

On the fourth day after the incident, you were standing at your locker, buttoning your fatigues with shaky fingers, when a honeyed voice pulled you out of your sleep-deprived daze.

“How’s the arm, Corporal?”

You jumped and slammed your locker door shut with a loud bang, revealing the face of Lt. Russo. He looked good, even though the shrapnel he took to the scalp left a mottled bruise on the upper left area of his forehead.

“Oh! I...uh...” you stammered, surprised. “Sir. Yes. The arm. The arm is good. The corpsman who stitched me up said you did a great job removing the bullet, thank you, sir.”

Russo nodded. “Curtis Hoyle is a buddy of mine. He told me he looked after you. He’s the best corpsman the Navy’s ever had.”

“He has a good touch,” you agreed. “And... how are you, sir?”

Russo shrugged. “Oh you know. Hanging in there.” You noticed that he looked tired too. The two of you simply stood looking at each other for a moment. You got the impression that he was trying to decide what to say, and you also were at a loss. He sighed. “I wanted to check in on you sooner, but I had some pressing things to attend to.”

You nodded. “Of course, lieutenant.” He smiled then, and it lit up his whole face. He reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair away from your eyes that had escaped your bun. It was over in a flash, but you broke out in gooseflesh all the same. “See you around Corporal,” he said, and headed off, smile still on his lips.

“Sir,” you said distractedly to his departing form, and felt that telltale butterfly flutter in your stomach. You silently cursed your excitement. So Russo touched your cheek...so what? It would certainly be for the best if nothing else happened between the two of you. He was an officer, and you were his subordinate. There were fraternization rules forbidding this sort of behavior, but you wanted his hands on you again...his lips, his tongue...all of him. You took a deep breath and tried to shake off the thoughts that were making your heart beat faster. After all, this was a dangerous game you were playing at. The simple fact was that it was not worth jeopardizing your career over one man, and you had to accept that.

You didn’t see Russo the next day, but the following day, a private came trotting over to you. “Corporal! Lieutenant Russo wants to see you in the training tent,” he said, before heading on his way. You swallowed anxiously, no idea what this could be about. You made your way over to the training tent and were surprised to find Russo alone, standing with his back to you reading some paperwork. He turned around when he heard you approach, and smiled. “Corporal,” he nodded in greeting.

“Lieutenant,” you replied. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s been almost a week since your injury, and I thought I would see how you’re healing up.”

“I’m a little sore sir, but I’m fine,” you replied.

Russo walked over to a weapons rack and gently ran his hand over the top of the various training weapons leaning against it. “Have you been getting in any practice?” He turned his head to look at you. “Gotta stay sharp, Corporal.”

“Not any formal training, sir. Just sit ups and runs, that sort of thing. Trying to take it easy on my arm.”

Russo picked up a wooden training staff and circled around your left side. Without warning, he tossed you the staff and you instinctively grabbed it with your injured arm-- your left-- and you grimaced in pain. You fixed Russo with a look. “You did that on purpose. Sir.”

He smirked. “Think the bad guys care if your arm hurts?” You shook your head, and he returned to the training rack to grab another staff. He walked back to you and stood in front of you. “Ok then,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

You nodded, took a deep steadying breath, and stepped forward. "Sensei,” you said simply, and bowed your head.

Russo chuckled, then before you could say anything else, he leapt into action. You raised your staff to block his strikes, parrying and dodging to the best of your ability. You were in good shape, but he clearly had more strength and experience than you, and you found yourself losing ground. You tried to change tactics to gain the offensive, trying-- and failing-- a couple of times to trip him up. You spun and changed direction, so he had to turn around to face you. His eyes glinted mischievously, and you realized that he was really enjoying this.

His long arms and legs were also a serious disadvantage for you, but you were determined not to make it too easy for him. The staves were a blur as they spun, swooped, and struck. Your gunshot wound was on fire, and the surrounding musculature was burning from the strain. You started to sweat as you struggled to parry all of his strikes, which didn’t show any signs of slowing. The man was fast. You were about to lose all hope of ever gaining the upper hand when you successfully swept his left leg, and he went down to one knee.

“Well done,” he said breathlessly, and he was smiling as he said it. “I’m impressed, Corporal,” he added as he got to his feet.

You chuckled. “You’re kicking my ass, sir.”

He laughed. “Not exactly, but if you’d like me to be more rough on you....”

“Oh sure, why not?” You replied, and rolled your eyes, making him laugh again.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, and lunged at you. The staves whirled and clashed again, and this time, your grunts were more audible as you tried like hell to take him down. Your arm was beyond pain at this point; just a numb lump that was somehow still managing to grasp one end of your staff. You managed to glance a blow off of one of his shoulders, but before you could feel too proud of yourself, he had somehow managed to hook his staff behind your right knee and yank to the side; not only knocking your foot out from under you, but completely throwing off your balance. You started to go down but instinctively reached out to grab the only thing in your reach, which was Lt. Russo.

You fell backward onto the mat, taking him with you by the collar of his shirt. You lay there panting for a moment. He was on top of you, but holding himself up by his forearms so as not to completely pin down your upper body. You said nothing, just looked at him. God, you thought. He’s so fucking attractive. You suddenly wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you and tear your clothes off.

You feared that you had let something show on your face when he broke out into a brilliant smile. “What?” You asked.

He remained silent and just looked at you. You could see his eyes moving along the features of your face. It was agonizing, being this close and doing nothing.

“Nice match,” he said suddenly, breaking the spell and lifting himself off of you. He held out a hand to help you up, which you grasped with your good hand. You stood up and faced him. “Thank you, sir,” you said quietly.

"We should practice more. You’re good, but I think I can show you a few things.” He tossed you a towel. You grabbed it and mopped your forehead.

“I’d like that sir,” you said as you cleaned yourself up. You tossed the towel into the hamper. “Thank you. I guess I should be getting back.” You turned to walk away.

“Corporal,” he said, and you stopped to look back at him. “When it’s just us, please call me Billy.”

You smiled. “Only if you call me Y/N.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning.

Next chapter

@littledarlinhavefaithinme

#10marvelousthingsihateaboutyou #black days series #billy russo x reader #fanfic #punisher fanfiction

58 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

impulse control (brooke x vanessa) - evan

In which Vanessa is chaotic, Brooke is a professional, and nothing happens (yet). 1.6k.

AN: I’ve embraced the rumors and you should too, it’s very fun. I’m trying my hand at writing shorter fics with the goal of getting them out faster, and I hope you enjoy this! This might have more parts, we’ll see ;) She/her pronouns and drag names because I just started writing it that way and it feels unnatural to change it now!

As always, find me at @formercongressman <3

Cw for drinking and whispers of potential smut.

–

Brooke realized she probably shouldn’t have told the other girls that the hotel staff forgot to take the booze out of the minibar in her room. Hindsight was indeed 20/20.

The first hour was fun. Shuga and Nina were just as sweet as they had been on first impression, Yvie and Scarlet played bartender and mixed some suspiciously strong drinks, and Vanessa was bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm that she had made it past the first challenge. Hour two was tolerable. People trickled in and out, much to the chagrin of a PA that Nina quickly appeased with a shot. Hour three was when it really got exhausting. More than anything, Brooke wanted some sleep. She wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but she knew that their 7 am call time was bound to be cruel to her.

Mercifully, at about midnight everyone got the hint and went back to their rooms. Except, of course, for Vanessa, who was halfway through painting her nails on the end of Brooke’s bed.

“Oh girl, you should have seen those judges’ faces, though, when I walked out. I know they were wanting to give me that Shangela edit but there’s no way that’s gonna happen because you know I plan on being in the top every week now—"

“Could you talk a little softer?” Brooke interrupted her. She was walking around the room trying to pick up the paper cups a few of the visitors had left strewn across the floor.

“Girl, I have one volume, you should know that.”

“I just don’t want to get in trouble on the first night.”

“You won the first challenge, it’s the first night, they’ll let it slide.”

Brooke waited a moment, cracking a smile. She leaned over to catch Vanessa’s eye. “And how would you know?”

“Oh bitch! Is it gonna be like that?” Vanessa cackled, screwing the nail polish top back on and standing up to admire her handiwork. “That’s ice cold, Queen of the North.”

Brooke chuckled to herself and crouched down to open the suitcase she had still yet to unpack. She was grateful she had thrown in a pair of sweats on top so she didn’t have to sort through the mess of boy clothes she had brought to find something comfy. She pulled her t-shirt over her head, hoping Vanessa would get the message that maybe it was time for her to go back to her room.

There was a pause. Brooke felt eyes on her, and she realized that perhaps this was having the opposite effect.

“You’re pretty fine, Miss Brooke.” It turned out Vanessa’s voice could, in fact, get softer, and it took on a kind of lighter edge that Brooke had never heard before.

“I know.” Brooke’s response was automatic. She was used to getting hit on in dressing rooms, and was used to brushing it off. But then she remembered her surroundings. This certainly wasn’t a dressing room.

“I bet you do.” Vanessa came closer, propping herself against the wall near where Brooke stood. “I heard it gets bad in here with so many good looking people and no one to fuck.”

Brooke could see where Vanessa was going with this, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t into it. Vanessa was a tiny package of energy with an unapologetic smile and a laugh that sounded like a weedwhacker but was still undeniably infectious. If this was a night at a bar in Nashville, she would be all over her. But it was the first night of the competition, she was already doing so well, and she couldn’t risk it with a distraction.

“Sister dick will make you sick.” Brooke repeated the phrase she had heard both Willam and Alaska say at some point, both of them not queens especially well known for taking that advice to heart, but that was beside the point.

“Oh, that’s not true.” Vanessa smiled, her voice dialing up louder and louder as she laughed at herself. “You think the girls who get to the top aren’t at least getting laid a little bit? You know, I was talking to Aquaria and you would really never guess—"

“Vanjie, shut up.”

Brooke was serious, and she turned around suddenly, not realizing just how close she had been to Vanessa. Vanessa’s back hit the wall with a solid thud, and Brooke had her pinned tightly between the wall and her body. She brought her arm up against the wall, blocking Vanessa in.

This was all an accident, but Brooke didn’t pull away. Something had shifted. She became acutely aware of just how small Vanessa was, her jaw agape as she craned her neck to look up at Brooke, who towered over her. As much as Brooke knew that logically this was a bad idea, she couldn’t ignore how overwhelmingly right it felt to be pressed against her like this.

“Oh,” Vanessa breathed, her eyes wide, the corners of her lips creeping up. “Wanna make me?”

Without thinking, Brooke brought her hand over Vanessa’s mouth. Vanessa narrowed her eyes in confusion. Perhaps she was expecting a kiss to shut her up, but Brooke wasn’t ready to give her the satisfaction. Vanessa tried to twist away, but Brooke caught her arm and kept her solidly against the wall. Vanessa lifted one eyebrow, intrigue in her eyes, as she smiled against Brooke’s hand. Brooke wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but it felt like Vanessa was tuned into this same electric connection as she was.

Brooke felt Vanessa’s warm, wet tongue against the inside of her palm, tracing a slow, sensual circle that made something churn just below Brooke’s gut. Brooke drew her hand back a little, and Vanessa caught the tips of two of her fingers in her mouth. She didn’t break eye contact for a second as she sucked Brooke’s fingers, her lips plump and shimmering and oh fuck Brooke couldn’t help but imagine what those lips might look like wrapped around her, and of course Vanessa knew that. Brooke fought back the shudder that threatened to ripple through her entire body. Brooke pressed her fingers in just a little deeper and Vanessa’s eyes fell shut, and she let out the smallest perceptible noise.

Brooke was wildly turned on, there was no denying that, and she was pretty sure Vanessa was aware as well as they shifted their hips against one another. She pulled her fingers back with the subtlest pop, and Vanessa looked up at her with hooded eyes, waiting.

“That’s better,” Brooke whispered.

“You know what’s even better?” Vanessa asked, a smirk somehow traveling through her entire face.

She slid down against the wall, her face disappearing from view, and Brooke drew in a sharp breath. She felt Vanessa’s fingers teasing the edge of her waistband, her mouth hovering over where Brooke needed it so intensely, and oh wow oh god she could feel Vanessa’s warm breath through the cloth of her pants and she moved her hand to lace tightly in Vanessa’s hair and—

“No, no, we can’t.” Brooke pulled back, almost stumbling as she tried to put as much space between her and Vanessa as she easily could. The connection was severed, and Brooke tried to shake herself out of it. This was a competition, and she had to be professional. Vanessa let out a long sigh and leaned back into the wall. Brooke almost felt like she needed to apologize, but she held her composure. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Vanessa picked herself off the floor, adjusting her rumpled shirt. “Alright, suit yourself.” She picked up her phone from the corner table, and she turned to look back at Brooke, a scheming smile still on her face. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

With a wink, Vanessa was out the door, and Brooke was left standing with her mouth hanging slightly open, surrounded by the suffocating tension in the air Vanessa had left behind.

“Shit,” Brooke whispered to herself as soon as the door clicked shut.

She walked to the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower. Cold water. What the fuck had just happened? She willed the cold water to wash away the sensation that tingled in her hips and at the back of her neck, with little success. She was here to win, not to get fucked. Yet try as she might, she couldn’t erase the image burned into her mind of Vanessa’s mouth around her fingers, and just how good it had felt holding her back, holding her down.

Sleep didn’t come easily, as her mind rushed between all of the events of the day, new faces and names, challenges, production details, every possible mistake and bad impression she might have already made. That much felt natural. But as she finally drifted off it was Vanessa’s curious eyes and devilish smirk that danced behind her eyes, and Brooke realized that keeping her eyes on the prize wasn’t going to be as easily as she initially thought it would be.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #evan #tw drinking #submission #canon compliant #s11 #on set fic

88 notes · View notes

twdeadfanfic · 6 years

Text

Life at the end of the world Pt.21

Summary: Your life as a zombie apocalypse survivor. It starts with the Reader settling into the camp at the quarry, before s1 and then follows the show events and storyline, more or less, but with the Reader in it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Slow burn, violence, language.

Author’s note: I’ve been itching to write a fic like this for a long while and I write it for fun, I don’t claim to be a writer so if you find you dislike this fic, please be kind and just stop reading. English’s not my first language so maybe there’re some mistakes, I apologize in advance. For the same reason, I can’t write character’s accents and things like that. At any rate, I hope you enjoy it. There’d be several parts to this.

Masterlist

You were back at the fence, viciously sinking the metal bar into the skulls of the monsters. Probably there were better ways to deal with your problems, to let out your heartache and frustration, but you didn’t care. This worked and you planned to overwork yourself until you were so exhausted you couldn’t think about anything.

“If you keep going like this, we’re not going to be able to keep up with you to burn them, they’re piling up...” Sasha pointed out, walking closer.

“I’ll go burn them myself.” You shrugged, dropping down the bar, you didn’t care what you were doing as long as it kept you busy.

“Not what I meant, and you know you can’t just go out like that, we have a process...”

You knew the procedure, some people distracted the remaining walkers, making noise, while others went out with the pickup, staking the bodies in it and carrying them to the place where you burnt them. You tried to do that once a day, but it had already been done today. By now the sun was starting to go down, and the work outside the fences was never done at night.

“Yeah, yeah, I know...”

“You should let yourself have a break, I feel like you have been there with that damn bar all day, every time I looked you were here...” Sasha was looking at you worriedly. “Y/N, are you okay? There’s something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine...” You lied, looking away so you didn’t have to meet her eyes.

“Sure...” It was obvious she didn’t believe you. “Anyway...Carol was looking for you...”

You nodded silently and made your way back into your cellblock. You didn’t want to talk with anyone so you tried to sneak into your room without anyone noticing, but Carol found you on the way.

“Ey, I was looking for you...” She stepped in front of you when you tried to pretend you hadn’t seen her. “Y/N! Would you wait a second?”

“Yeah, sorry, hi... you need something?”

“Would you help me make dinner?” She asked and you looked at her weird, she had never asked you to cook before as there were way better chefs in the prison.

“If you need me too...” You said unenthusiastically although sure you’d help her if she needed it. “I was actually thinking about going to bed early, I’m tired...I was just going to my room...”

“Bet you’re tired, all that metal bar plus walker workout must be challenging.” Carol joked but you couldn’t laugh and she let out a sigh. “Good lord, you’re even worse than I thought you would...”

“What you mean?”

“Well, I had an interesting talk with Daryl...”

“God, no!” You hid your face on your hands, totally embarrassed, your cheeks on fire.

It wasn’t enough you had messed up things with Daryl, he’d told Carol...of course he’d tell her, you should have guessed, she was his best friend after all...it was so humiliating you couldn’t look at her.

“It’s not the end of the world, Y/N.” Carol chuckled fondly.

“It kind of feel it is...”

You felt a lump in your throat again, dangerously close to tears which just embarrassed you more. You turned around, unable to face Carol anymore and walked towards your cell quickly, but she followed you.

“Y/N, come on...” As you slumped down onto the bed she sat next to you, looking at you with a mix of humor and kindness.

“I ruined everything...” You curled up, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face on your palms. “I was a stupid and I scared him away from me, he was my friend and now I’ve lost him, I messed up everything...”

“Overreacting a bit?” Despite her sweet eyes, Carol sounded amused at you. “I can’t believe you are even more dramatic than him...”

You stole a glance towards her. “What did he told you?”

“Would you like it if you came to talk to me about something, about him, just you and me and then I went and told him everything?” She chided you softly.

No, you wouldn’t, it’d bother you and it’d embarrass you, but you were too upset to admit it, so you just shrugged. Carol just smiled sweetly at you. She would never betray Daryl’s trust, or yours for that matter, and you knew it, you didn’t really want her to.

But you needed to know what was he thinking, if you had managed to ruin your friendship with Daryl for real. You gave Carol sad puppy eyes and she chuckled, patting your knee.

“Come on, Y/N, you know him, you know how he is...he scares easily with these things...”

You nodded sadly, your head down. You knew it, you knew him. You had come such long way with him, his friendship and trust so hardly earned blooming into an intimacy with him that always made you feel grateful and happy, he made you feel safe like everything was going to be alright. And you had managed to ruin all that.

It was like an arrow in your heart.

“What I mean is that you have to give him time.” Carol noticed you were just feeling worse and she wrapped an arm around you, squeezing you to her side. “Don’t be sad, everything is going to be just fine.”

“If you say so...”

“I say so.” She gave you a last squeeze and got up from the bed. “I’m gonna feed people, sure you don’t want to come?”

“Sure...” You only wanted to curl up on your bed and cry.

Carol let out a sigh and bent down to press a kiss to your cheek before leaving your cell.

***

You weren’t sure of how long you had been on your bed, wallowing in your heartache, when you heard a knock on the cell’s bar.

“Yeah?”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes, trying to make yourself presentable. You looked up in time to see the curtain shifting to the side and Daryl standing at the door, looking at you with unsure eyes.

“Come in...” You said quietly when you saw he wasn’t moving.

You had a knot in your stomach but your heart was fluttering with hope. He’d come to visit you, that had to be good, right? He didn’t want to stay away from you...though maybe Carol had sent him out on pity, or maybe he had come to tell you off...your stomach was clenching with anxiety.

“You didn’t come to dinner.” Daryl walked in, placing a plate on the small table of your room.

“I wasn’t hungry.” You lied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The knot in your belly had eased a bit, Daryl was not only talking with you but he had also brought you dinner, that had to mean something, had to mean he was still your friend, that you hadn’t ruined your friendship...

He was looking at you, your eyes puffy and rimmed red, his eyes worried, guilty even.

“Y/N...”

“I’m sorry.” You cut him off before he could say anything, before you could get more embarrassed or your heart more broken. “Can you...can you pretend that I didn’t...that nothing happened...” You looked away, blushing furiously. “Please...I’m sorry...”

You stole a glance towards him when he remained silent. He was giving you a look you couldn’t quite place, but he nodded.

“Thanks...”

As long as he was still your friend, it’d be okay if he didn’t share your silly feelings, it’d had to be....you’d be okay, you’d make it okay, you still had him and his companionship.

For a moment, both of you stayed in embarrassed, awkward silence.

“Rick wants to go on a run tomorrow.” Daryl finally spoke, leaning against the wall opposite the bed. “He reckons there’s some sort of farmhouse somewhere along the road that Michonne’s gonna follow, so we’ll go with up there with her before she leaves.”

“Are you going too?” You smiled softly when he nodded. “Neither you nor Rick know how to lay your head down, do you?”

Daryl had just arrived today and he was already leaving again the next day, and Rick hadn’t allowed himself a moment of rest in weeks either, trying to go on runs as much as possible, feeling the pressure of having to take care of so many people.

Daryl shrugged but returned your smirk, and you were glad some of the awkwardness between you two was ebbing away.

“Glenn and Maggie are coming too, you wanna join? We should be back at sundown if we leave early enough and there ain’t problems on the road.”

You nodded eagerly and couldn’t fight your smile at him asking you to go.

“Alright, I’m gonna talk to Rick, get everything ready. See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

***

You woke up to a hand shaking your elbow and you opened your eyes to find Michonne smiling at you.

“The sun is not even up...” You complained groggily.

“It will be when we reach the farm. Come on.” She tossed you a bottle of water and a cereal bar and walked out.

Ten minutes later you were in the yard, waving back at Sasha up in the watchtower as she waved goodbye to you, still a bit asleep.

Michonne was taking her own car for when she would leave the group later and Daryl would lead you on his bike.

“Are you sure you want to go on your own?” You asked Michonne worriedly.

“Yeah, I have to find him, I can’t stop, sorry...And since none of you want to come with me...”

Her tone was light and teasing, clearly joking, buts she stopped when she saw Daryl dropping his gaze guiltily to the floor.

“I’m kidding, he’s my mission, I want to go alone.” She said seriously.”Though it’d be easier and faster if I had a motorbike instead of a car.” She winked at Daryl.

“Don’t dare lay a finger on mine,” Daryl grumbled but you saw his small smile.

You smiled at their easy banter, they seemed to have become friends during their time out together, and you liked to see Daryl opening up to people.

***

When you reached the farmhouse, you couldn’t help your disappointed sigh. Both the rather small main house and the couple of barns seemed quite run down and decrepit.

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything useful here...” Maggie complained gloomily. “And it’s too close to the road, people must have raided it already.”

“We’ll see...” Rick pursed his lips and you all walked out of the car.

After a quick scoop, you only saw a couple of decrepit walkers, munching on an unfortunate, starved horse which seemed to have been dead for a while, and you made quick work of them.

There was nothing useful outside so you split into two groups. Rick, Glenn, and Maggie would look in the barns while Daryl, Michonne and you went to the house.

Daryl knocked at the door but no walkers came so you went inside, heading straight for the kitchen, coughing at the dust that covered everything.

“Were we short on knives?” You asked bitterly, finding a drawer full of cutlery among empty ones.

“There has to be something...” Michonne kept looking around relentlessly.

“Yeah, a fucking lot of rotten shit...” Daryl complained, pulling out boxes of rotten fruit.

You could only hope the others were having more luck at the barns, maybe the inhabitants of the house had stored something in there.

“Come on, let’s keep looking.”

Daryl and Michonne headed towards the stairs, intending to check the rooms upstairs but you stayed down.

“Y/N, come on,” Daryl called for you.

“In a minute...”

You walked into the living room but it was even more empty than the kitchen, ragged furniture with the drawers and cabinets already opened and empty, paper peeling off the walls.

You headed towards the only room you hadn’t checked yet, hoping it was some sort of pantry. The floor creaked as you walked in, blinking at the darkness, the room hadn’t any windows. A pang of a disgusting smell hit you and as your eyes get used to the dark you saw a pile of vegetables rotting on a corner. What a pity.

All the non-perishable food had been raided already for sure, as Maggie had said. You chuckled bitterly when you saw a couple of booze bottles on top of a cupboard.

“Are you so bad not even the raiders wanted you?”

You almost missed the small door at the side of the room. You tried to open it but it was stuck.

“I’m gonna need a bit of help here!” You called out to Daryl and Michonne.

The door didn’t seem to be locked, though, so you pulled again as hard as you could, using your foot on the wall as leverage, and the door finally gave up.

“Nah, it’s fine, it’...”

Your words were cut short when a walker lunged towards you unexpectedly and you let out a scream of shock and fear as you fell to the floor, the geek on top of you.

“Y/N” You heard Daryl’s and Michonne’s voices calling for you but you were too busy trying to keep the snapping jaws away from you.

I was taking all your strength to just keep him away but you knew you must try to hold him back just with one hand so you could sink your knife into his skull. You weren’t sure you were going to be able, though, the monster squirming against you with all its strength. Before you could try, though, the walker dropped dead on top of you and you turned your head to see an arrow embed into its skull.

Daryl yanked the corpse away from you and pulled you onto your feet.

“You okay?” He seemed almost as scared as you.

You nodded but Daryl didn’t seem to calm down, worried eyes frantic scanning you, looking for bites or scratches.

“He didn’t bite me, it’s fine, I’m fine.” You muttered, half in shock still. You had been so sure the house was free of walkers...

“There’s no more of them inside,” Michonne informed you, turning to you and squeezing your shoulder gently. “You alright?”

You nodded again but realized you were panting and shaking hard, you had been too worried struggling against the walker, trying to keep him away from you, to realize how scared you actually were and now it was hitting you as a ton of bricks.

Daryl was still holding your hand and he squeezed it, pulling you to him. You let him wrap his arms around you, snuggling to him and burying your face on his chest, listening to his heart beating fast while yours started to relax.

When he felt you were stopping shaking he pulled you away from him and you were shocked when you saw he was glaring at you.

“What were you thinking?” He growled at you.

“What?”

“You wander here alone instead of coming with us, you open the door alone and without checking first...” He began to rant, face red, and you recoiled a bit. “You were almost bitten!”

You felt still shaken by the sudden attack and ashamed you had been so careless, and all that mixing with Daryl scolding you angrily was making you feel close to tears, so you dropped your head, embarrassed.

“Calm down, she’s fine.” Michonne cut him off. “Aren’t you?”

You nodded, smiling weakly to her.

“Sorry...” Daryl muttered and you saw him close his eyes tight, trying to calm down before he followed Michonne and you into the room.

“Jackspot.”

Michonne pointed at a box with a few cans of baked beans. There weren’t many, but it was something.

There was also a riffle on the floor and you took it, checking there were still a couple of bullets in it.

“He was hiding here.” You pointed out. “I wonder how he died.”

“I don’t care, let’s get out of here.” Daryl placed a hand on your shoulder and walked you out of the room.

“Wait.” Michonne took one of the bottles of alcohol from the top of the cabinet, handing it to you. “Booze to help you forget any incident you may have had.”

You snorted but took a sip, spitting it immediately.

“God, I understand why nobody bothered taking this.” You wheezed. “Wanna try?”

You made to pass the bottle to Daryl but he shocked his head, giving you a gentle push towards the door, seeming eager to leave the house.

“No, come on, let’s go back to the cars.”

It seemed the others had had little luck too, but at least they didn’t show up empty-handed, having found a couple sacks of seeds.

“Hershel’ll like it, he wanted to grow things,” Rick said while getting the sacks into the trunk of the car.

“You sure you don’t want to come back with us?” He turned to Michonne, who shook her head.

“I’m gonna find him and kill him.”

“Be careful out there.” You hugged here. “And come back soon.”

“I will.”

With that, you parted ways, Michonne driving up the road and you turning back to the prison.

You had almost dozed off in the back seat of the car when you felt it stop.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, Daryl stopped.”

You all get out of the car and saw Daryl looking around.

“What’s wrong?” Rick asked but the archer lifted his hand as if to tell you to stay in silence.

You heard it in a second, the screams of someone in need.

“Come on!”

Daryl ran towards the sound and you all followed him into the woods, soon finding a young couple fighting a small group of walkers, though they seemed to have some trouble with it.

You all sprung into action to help them, sinking your knives into the heads of walker after walker until there weren’t anyone left.

“Thanks.” The young woman panted, helping the man up from when he had fallen to the floor and looking at you a bit surprised. “I’m Nora and this is David.”

You all introduced yourselves and Rick gave them a look over before asking them the three questions now you knew where his test to see who you took in. You still weren’t too sure of what were the correct answers, though.

He seemed to decide they were good enough, because he explained to them who you were and offered them to come to the prison, which they gratefully accepted immediately, seeming to be out of ammo and supplies, though they still seemed a bit shocked.

That’s how you ended on the back of Daryl’s bike, Nora and David going on the back seat of Rick’s car with Glenn.

You wrapped your arms around Daryl’s waist and turned your head to rest your cheek on his back.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Daryl warned you but he turned his head to look at you with a soft smile before turning on the engine and driving away.

I’ve been told the notifications haven’t been working…did you get yours?

@momc95@jodiereedus22@osweetdevilo@sapphire1727@coffeebooksandfandom @the-destielr@checkintoreality@aislingsartistry@daddys-little-princess67@sesshomaru-lover @crossbowking @coltcas @feartheendlesssummer @izumi37 @gruffle1

I never thought anyone’d like to be tag in any of my stories so thank you! It means the world!

If you want to be tagged please let me know.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #twd fic #daryl dixon fic #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader

216 notes · View notes

oh-for-merlins-sake · 3 years

Text

CRUMBS ‘N’ CRUMPETS | gw

summary: ever since y/n opened a bakery across from weasleys’ wizard wheezes, george hasn’t stopped thinking about her. he hopes that holiday cheer, a blanket of snowfall, and one chocolatey recipe will give him the courage he needs to make his christmas wish come true.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: several mentions of food, gets a lil steamy, alcohol

a/n: ok so i was feeling HELLA COZY and wanted to write a comfy christmas fic hehehehe. enjoy! and happy holidays!!! 💛

The twinkle of shimmering white lights danced across your vision as George twirled you in a sloppy circle, keeping time with the vibrations of familiar Christmas songs that rattled your feet.

“I’m going to need to sit after this!” You laughed.

“Can’t keep up, darling?” George teased, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.

You gripped his arms, slowing him to a halt. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Weasley.”

He raked a hand through his disheveled ginger locks. “I don’t have to — you do plenty of it for me.”

George shot you a wink, but the only response you could muster was a dramatic scoff. Just as he opened his mouth to quip further, someone toppled into you, resulting in a heaping dose of eggnog poured directly down your front.

You gasped from the sudden, thick chill and glared at George, who was stifling a raucous laugh.

“‘M sorry, Y/N,” she mumbled.

“It’s all right, Eleanor, you didn’t mean to,” you assured as you propped her back up.

You passed her back to her seemingly sober friend who apologized profusely on her behalf. She tugged Eleanor out of the shop, and you heard a boisterous laugh erupt from behind you. You spun on your heel to find George with his head on the nearest display case, trembling from how hard he was laughing.

You feigned anger, “George!”

“Honestly, Y/N, I think eggnog suits you!”

You swiped your wand across your body to instantly launder your bright red blouse. George protested, “Oh, c’mon, at least save me some!”

You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder.

The stuffiness of the shop began to settle on your sweaty skin as clusters of people roved around you. A gust of icy air blew in as another horde of people clamored through the door. The chill was inviting.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tossed your head back, exposing your sticky neck as you relished in the fleeting cold. George bit his lip, averting his gaze, knowing all too well how he longed to taste your salty skin.

“I could really use some fresh air,” you sighed, opening your eyes. “Care to join me?”

“It’s getting a touch hot for me as well,” George nodded in agreement, absentmindedly loosening his tie.

You gulped at the sight and quickly pivoted to lead him towards the door. He followed achingly close behind, and you resisted the overwhelming urge to spin and close the gap.

You were grateful to reach the wintry air.

“You sure know how to throw a Christmas party, Weasley,” you said as you tamed your tousled hair.

George chuckled and shook his head. “Every year, we think it’s going to be a hell of a lot smaller than it ever is.”

“Well, it gets my official stamp of approval!” You curtsied before mimicking a grandiose stamping motion. “Of course, only if the new girl’s opinion even matters.”

George laughed. “‘Course the new girl’s opinion matters!” He pointed sternly. “Some may say it’s the most important one.”

Only a few months had passed since you opened Crumbs ‘N’ Crumpets, your bakery across the street, but it felt like you’d known George for years. Like clockwork, he’d stop in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, sampling the daily special and shoving a few bills into the tip jar; and every Saturday morning, you’d leave a steaming cup of coffee with a warm chocolate chip muffin on the doorstep to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes; and after a bustling day of business, when the shops all closed and the keepers turned in, you’d both walk down the alley, admiring the colorful Christmas lights that strung above the streets.

Neither of you dared to discuss it, and neither of you would admit that the routine meant more than you ever led on, but as he watched you giggle and admire the twinkling lights above your head yet again, he knew that he was careening down a treacherous path.

“Fancy a snack, George?” You asked suddenly. “I’m starving!”

The firewhisky you downed earlier created a cavern in your stomach; and the same was true of George. “What can I get you?” He asked, turning back towards the party.

You stopped him and nodded towards the bakery. “I was thinking we could make something of our own,” you challenged.

A faint blush sprawled across his freckled face as you dragged him by the hand. “Are you sure you want my help? I was banned from the kitchen as a child — blew up far too many things with my brother.”

You giggled as you unlocked the door to the bakery, pushing it with your shoulder and causing the silver bell overhead to chime. Guided by the moonlight that crept through the storefront, you led George to the back before flipping a switch to illuminate the messy kitchen.

A doughy mixing bowl sat unwashed in the sink, patches of flour blotted the countertops, and a few holly-patterned pot warmers sat on the cool, linoleum floor.

“Neat as a pin,” George teased, nudging his hip against yours.

“Do you want a snack, or don’t you?”

George chuckled as you pulled a delicate recipe box from a nearby shelf and flipped through the cards within. Eventually, you withdrew an old-time favorite: your mother’s homemade, melt-in-your-mouth, triple chocolate cookies. George was eager to learn how to concoct such an extraordinary confection — or rather, pretend to learn.

Honestly, George couldn’t comprehend much when he was around you. You raptured every ounce of his attention and always managed to short-circuit his brain and send his stomach into an endless bout of somersaults. Focusing on anything but you was a fruitless task.

His heart fluttered as you danced around the kitchen, spinning dough, sprinkling flour, and sampling chocolate. You were completely in your element. It seemed an intimate blessing to be standing there, rolling globs of sticky dough between his palms beside of you.

“I shattered my ulna when I was eight, and these cookies were the only thing to get me through those bloody buckets of Skele-Gro,” you recalled, slapping the last ball of dough onto the aluminum cookie sheet.

George grimaced. He was all too familiar with the sensation that accompanied a hearty helping of Skele-Gro. “These must be pretty wicked cookies then!”

You laughed and slid the tray into the toasty oven. “You’re in for a real treat, Weasley!”

George’s mouth was practically drooling at the delicious chocolate aroma that wafted through the air as he scrubbed colorful measuring cups and wooden spoons in the sink. Each time he passed you a dish to dry, your hand would gently graze his, which sent him into a complete and utter tizzy.

As soon as the timer chimed, George practically raced you to the oven.

You laughed as you stood between him and the oven, turning off the timer and placing your hand against his chest. “You’ve got to let them cool, Georgie!”

He peered down at you, suddenly overwhelmed by how little distance separated the two of you. “Sorry,” he muttered. The faintest trace of a smirk lined his lips. “I can be a bit... impatient.”

You gazed up at him, stammering as you attempted to craft some sort of coherent response. You were well aware of the fact that merely standing on your tiptoes at this point would close the minute gap between your lips and his; how the scent of chocolate evaporated as you inhaled his musky cologne and the notes of cinnamon that escaped his breath; how you’d been standing in silence for probably longer than what was socially acceptable — perhaps you should say something, you thought.

“That makes two of us,” you whispered. You were doused with a sudden wave of courage before swiftly tugging George to your lips by his evergreen tie, worried that if you waited another second, that courage may dissipate into another missed opportunity.

His lips melted into yours as he pressed you against the balmy glass of the stacked ovens behind you. You sighed into the kiss and tugged the ends of his ginger hair as his large hands swept underneath your blouse to rake at the small of your back. You gently tossed your head back, giving George’s mouth free rein to finally dance across your neck. A soft moan escaped your lips as you hooked your fingers through his belt loops to pull him completely against you.

You were perfectly content to continue indulging in your finally realized fantasies until a faint, burning odor infiltrated the kitchen.

You gasped and pushed George off of you, flinging the oven door open to reveal greatly crisped, blackened cookies.

“Blimey, I’m sorry, Y/N!” George exclaimed.

You safely extracted the sheet of cookies and set it on the counter before turning off the oven. You couldn’t help but laugh at how carried away you’d gotten.

“Bet they’re still bloody delicious,” George assured, reaching for a scorched cookie.

You giggled as he audibly crunched on the sweet, doing his best to hide the grimace that threatened to surface. “Well,” he muttered, “Guess that means we’ll have to try again another day!”

The two of you tossed the charred sweets in the bin, both flushed and bashful about the events that had just transpired. Neither of you mentioned it as you locked the bakery once more or as you migrated back to the Christmas party across the street. You wondered when either of you would bring it up, if at all; if either of you would ever muster the courage to do such a thing again.

As you both maneuvered to settle against a wall, George chirped, “Oh, look!” He pointed above your heads. “Mistletoe.”

He smirked as you rolled your eyes.

Well that didn’t take long.

#george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #hp fanfiction #george weasley x fem!reader #hp christmas

303 notes · View notes

ladyramora · 6 years

Note

If you're still taking requests can I have a lil fic for estinien like the one you wrote about haurchefant/wol getting drunk together? If you have time, if not, no worries :)

(*Kermit voice* Hi-ho! - Sorry I’m so late, as usual. I have no excuse, really, except lack of writing motivation with how my job has been recently. Ah… I hope this is to your liking. I meant to draw it out more, but I think WoL needs some sleep. (So do I, lol.) Drunken Estinien is smoother than Sober Estinien. XD This version, anyhow. I was writing him like… Hmmm, I hope he seems IC. Estinien is kinda cocky, though, isn’t he? Anyway, please enjoy?)

This is a Prequel to this OT3 (Aymeric x WoL x Estinien)

....

...

The heavy sound of glass scraping across the polished wood of your table has you blinking open your eyes that you hadn’t realized you had closed.

A bottle of familiar booze sits in the middle of your table. You stare at it, eyes drooping blearily, gaze unfocused.

You hadn’t ordered it.

Your eyes focus only as someone sits across from you. That familiar voice addressing you, sarcastic and dry as the Sagolii desert, “Do you ever tire of fighting wars not your own?”

Your lips curve up, eyes dragging over him lazily. “Estinien,” You say on a sleepy sigh. He is a sight for sore eyes. Sore, overtired eyes. You cannot remember when last you had lain down to truly rest.

Estinien is frowning heavily, the light behind him casting an ethereal glow on the fall of his pale, unbound hair. His pale skin a bit more tanned than when you saw him last. Though shadows still lingered under the bright blue of his eyes, he looked far healthier than he had - lying pale and drawn in the infirmary after your battle with Nidhogg. His eyes are sharp, a too bright blue that drag over you with much too knowing a look.

He is…

“Gorgeous,” You say, dazedly and with a heavy tongue.

Estinien’s eyes widen infinitesimally, his head dipping down—his hair, so bright and shiny, slipping over his shoulder and drawing your eyes to the open lacing of his shirt baring his clavicle—and slides an empty glass across the table.

Even with how tired you are, your reflexes do not fail you as your hand snaps out to catch the glass before it can slip over the edge to shatter on the floor.

“Drink with me,” Estinien doesn’t ask in a voice that is rough with what you think to be embarrassment.

You stare down at the glass that you clasped in a loose grip, eyes half lidded.

Estinien pops the cork on the heavy bottle he’d brought, pouring his own glass and then yours. Yours, you notice, he fills just shy of the brim.

“Fury damn them,” Estinien grouses, “You need this more than I do. Look at you,” Estinien slams the bottle down hard enough for liquid to slosh up over the neck, snatching up his own glass to gesture with to your own too full glass. “Been possessed lately? You look about one foot in the grave.”

You grimace, ignoring your glass to touch your face. Fingers tracing under your heavy eyes as you ask, “Do I look so terrible?”

Estinien slams his emptied glass down, leaning in to snarl and pin you in place with furious blue eyes, “No! You look..” He freezes mid sentence, jaw flexing with his grinding teeth. “You look… good.”

Your hand drops to rest near your glass. Good, he said. “Good,” You echo, not questioning him, merely stating that you are glad.

Estinien takes it the other way, you surmise, as his face flushes in the soft lighting. His lips, wet with traces of his hard booze, parting as he tries to elaborate, “Better, I mean. You were so…” Estinien falls quiet. Swallows.

“Sad.”

Sad. Angry. Bitter.

Empty.

You had been many things after the Dragonsong war. You had lost two people who had become dear to you. Your eyes follow Estinien’s fingers as he drags his bare fingers through the water pooling around his chilled glass.

Almost three. Almost. But you had been able to save him. Had been allowed that where you hadn’t been before. Not him, you had thought back then. Had begged - pleaded, even - to the Twelve. To those Gods who had a hand in writing your Fate. Not Estinien too.

Then you had decided you were done asking. No, you decided. You can’t have him. You won’t. I won’t let you take him.

And then you hadn’t.

You smile instead of voicing such things. “I am always better having seen you.”

Estinien clears his throat and pours himself another. “Drink with me.”

You dip your head and lift your glass. Estinien’s favored drink sliding heavy over your tongue. Burning like dragon fire as you swallow it down. Still you tip it back. It would be most impolite to refuse. Besides, you had never been one to turn down Estinien’s offers of companionship.

You finish your glass, warmth settling in your belly. You should have eaten something, you muse, as Estinien pours you another too full glass.

“Good Ser,” You say teasingly. “I dare say, are you intending to get me drunk?”

Estinien snorts into his glass, booze spraying in his humor. He wipes his face and grins at you. “I intend only for you to catch up.”

You blink. Catch up? “Estinien,” You lean in, whispering lowly. “Are you drunk?”

Estinien leans in, breath mingling with yours, “Mayhap a little.”

So more than a little.

You glance at your glass, eye the mostly full contents of the bottle, and make a decision. You grab the bottle and your glass.

Swallowing back your entire glass of booze in one long drink, and then pouring yourself another overly large.

You’re not letting Estinien overdo it on your watch.

“Whoa there!” Estinien gives a huff of a laugh as you tip back your third glass. “Slow down, will you?” He grasps your hand, warm, calloused fingers stroking over your knuckles.

You swallow hard, looking up into his face. The amusement in his eyes. In the curl of his lips.

“Easy does it,” He continues, soothingly. That low, growly quality to his voice somehow even raspier in his partial intoxication.

His eyes are so blue. So vivid. You feel swallowed by them.

Estinien says your name and you blink, shaking your head to dispell the heavy feeling over you. Like being charmed, you think dazedly as you watch Estinien lick a stray drop of booze from his glass.

Seduction. This is a…

“This is a seduction.”

Estinien chokes, looking at you with wide eyes. “What?!” He barks. Trying to play it off, but his eyes look awfully shifty to be playing for innocence.

Ahh. Yes. It all made sense now. His hair seemed shinier than usual. His lips, too. Not to mention how much skin he was showing with the lazy lacings of his dark blue shirt - baring more than the usual of his toned chest. That, then touching you with his hands. And he kept sticking his tongue out and licking things. His lips, his glass. His wrist where he had spilled on his hand and it had dripped over his skin, eyes catching yours as he licked up his inner arm.

“Estinien,” You say, squinting in suspicion. “Are you trying to seduce me right now?” Was this happening or had you finally succumbed to exhaustion?

Estinien struggles to deny it, but the way his cheeks flush and his eyes shift give him away. “What? No! Why would I…? That would be…”

You stare at him and wait.

Estinien’s face falls, and he stops trying to deny it. “If I said yes - that this was a… an attempt to… Ah. …What would your reaction be?”

You tilt your head, turning your glass in your hands. You take a deep breath, pretending to mull it over. You shrug, as though careless. Like everything in you isn’t crying out in relief. You had thought your feelings for Estinien would forever remain unrequited and ever unspoken.

You smile and grasp your glass to clink against his. “All right then, Azure Dragoon. Show me your moves.”

Estinien sits back, looking all sorts of adorably puzzled. Jaw working as he has the nerve to squint at you in suspicion, “…All right.”

As if you would joke about something like this! You nod back at him, quirking a brow in challenge. “All right?”

Estinien knocks back his glass, clears his throat roughly, and says, “Then.. Yes, this is a..” He flushes. “This… is that.”

You slide your glass forward, clinking against his even though it is empty.

Estinien grabs the bottle and pours.

You smile, tracing the rim of your glass.

You are not prepared for Estinien to climb over the table.

“What are you doing?”

Estinien huffs as he settles next to you on your suddenly too small side of the booth. “Seducing you, obviously. Am I meant to do it all the way over there?” Estinien says, sounding rather grumpy for someone trying to seduce you.

He shifts close and you find your back hitting the wall behind you as Estinien cages you in with a hand by your head.

You feel very much drunk suddenly. Your head swimming with the scent of Estinien. That familiar smell with just a hint of something new. Was that cologne? Whatever it was - it smelled particularly pleasing. You cannot help but deepen your breaths to take him in.

Estinien is looking altogether much too smug. “Look at you,” He positively croons. “I haven’t even started yet and you’re…” Estinien leans in, his breath fanning over your lips, “All. Flushed.”

Estinien grunts in surprise as your hand smacks him in the nose, his hands raising up in surrender as you push his face away from yours.

“Not so fast, Ser!” You say breathlessly. Your cheeks feel on fire, but you’ll not be so easily conquered. “I expect a bit more of a proper seduction before you start stealing kisses!”

Estinien barks a startled, if not delighted laugh. His hand cupping over yours to grasp and turn in his hold. His head lowering as he kisses your hand like a proper chivalrous knight.

His eyes gleam playful blue through the soot of his eyelashes, shiny lips curling in a flirtatious grin. “Like this?” He asks in his signature throaty growl as he kisses your hand, over your wrist and up your arm.

You swallow hard. “That’s… rather nice, yes.”

Estinien’s eyes crinkle with his pleased grin, nuzzling his nose and one of those sharp cheekbones against your arm like an affectionate cat.

His thumb drags over the veins on your wrist. “Your heart is pounding,” Estinien sighs. He drags your hand by the wrist to press against his chest between the gaping fabric of his shirt. To feel the racing of his own heart. “Mine too.”

You gulp. Cannot help yourself from spreading your fingers wide and basking in the feel of his skin.

Estinien grins rakishly. “Seduced yet?”

You squeak. “A little?”

Estinien chuckles. “Shall I try harder then?” He leans in, shaking his head just so that his hair falls forward around his face in a waterfall of pale moonlit strands.

The fragrant oil in his hair wafts over you and inspires in you that strange mix of pleasure and hunger at smelling something pleasing. You want a lot of things. To touch his hair. Feel the sure softness of it. To bury your face in it and breathe him in. To rake your hands through his hair and drag his lips to yours.

You only make a strangled whining sound and lean into him, helpless to his magnetic pull.

You let out a startled yelp as Estinien drags you into his lap.

Your hands are frozen against the bared skin of his chest. Eyes wide as you tip your head back to stare into his own.

Estinien expression shifts from purposeful seduction to worried. “Too much?” he asks.

You shake your head mutely.

You are in Estinien’s lap.

You silently thank every god, goddess and deity you know, and all the ones you do not. You have been blessed with glorious fortune this night that you had thought would amount to naught but boredom and eventually succumbing to your exhaustion.

Instead you sat in the Azure Dragoon’s lap as he attempted, and so far quite thoroughly succeeded, to seduce you.

Not just seduce, you muse drunkenly, as Estinien smiles in relief and cups his hands over your cheeks to stroke your skin with calloused thumbs.

“I think I’m drunk,” You say slowly, leaning into him drowsily. Your overtaxed body catching up with you now.

Estinien snorts. “Caught up, have you? Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

You smile goofily, sinking into his delicious body heat with a satisfied hum. “But you’re so warm! Seduce me later.”

Estinien sighs, smiling ruefully. “I suppose it was selfish of me to drink beforehand. To attempt such as you are now. An onze of liquid courage turned to much more than I meant. Feeling your exhaustion now, I suppose? Shall I carry you to bed?”

You let loose a giggly drunken laugh. “Whaaat? We can’t go to bed together! You haven’t even kissed me yet!”

Estinien flushes like he hadn’t just been trying to seduce you. “Together? Ah.. Do you… Would you like me to kiss you?”

You would like him to very much. Yet now your head was dropping. Eyelids fighting to droop closed and remain so. Your cheek falls to rest against his bare skin, nose brushing his shirt. “Kiss me.. Kiss me,” You sigh, nuzzling into his chest.

Estinien does not comment on your sudden change of mind, bless him.

Estinien laughs softly, and you blink up dazedly at him as he curls his fingers under your chin to tilt your head back.

You part your lips, ever so slightly puckered to receive his kiss.

Estinien smiles, lowers his face towards yours, and kisses your forehead instead of your lips.

You make a mild sound of protest. “Tha… doesn’… count!” Your words slur from drink and your mounting exhaustion.

Estinien kisses your forehead again. Then the tip of your nose, laughing as you wrinkle your nose in response.

“I’ll kiss you,” Estinien says gently. Seriously. “When we are both a little more sober. Aye, a little more than rested on your part as well.”

You hear him, but are hardly awake to reply with aught but, “Promise?”

Estinien strokes his hands over your hair and down your back, his voice a throaty hum. “Of course. I promise.”

You close your eyes, feeling safe in his arms, and give in to your exhaustion under the soothing motions of his hands and the soft sound of his breath.

....

Estinien stares down at the sleeping Warrior in his lap with aching fondness, smiling and shaking his head at his own foolishness.

“I question mine own thought processes, truly. What had I intended when you were clearly so exhausted you sat half awake at this table in this questionable bar?”

Estinien sighs. “I have not been known for mine decision making. ‘Tis not mine strong suit.”

Estinien strokes a finger under the shadows lining the Warrior’s eyes. His eyes dropping to their parted lips, slightly curled as if they were smiling in their sleep.

“You continue to be my best decision yet.”

Estinien smiles. “Try again later, shall I?”

The Warrior sighs in their sleep and Estinien nods in affirmation. “Aye. Off to bed with you.”

With some clever maneuvering on his part, he stands from their shadowed booth with the Warrior cradled safely in his arms.

“Right,” he sighs. “Now to find out where you’ve been sleeping. If you have at all.”

#ffxiv #wol x estinien #ladyramora writes #getting drunk together #attempsts at seduction #permanently exhausted wol #estinien has feelings #estinien cares #estinien is far too pretty for this world #i figured this would be around sb somewhere #estinien where are youuuu #let us love youuuu #bb come back #you you got what i neeeed #there was a srs lack of elf husbands in sb #just saying #idk i'm tired and rambling like usual #i hope you all enjoy this even though its not super long

238 notes · View notes

flappy-spookster · 5 years

Text

Beautiful Crime by @icantwritegood (ao3) - (52,242 words) “Five years after the life-changing road trip. Things have simultaneously changed yet remained the same.”

Part two in the Road Trip series, this story is absolutely amazing. Things have gotten darker and more intense, and it’s amazing. This series has quickly risen to be one of my all time favorites and I cannot recommend it enough. The characters are incredibly vivid, the mood clearly comes through, the writing is interesting and detailed, and the plot is downright fantastic. Something about the story makes me want to create something in response to it, so as with the first part of this series, I made a playlist which I will be explaining here.

Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5i87J26S4j0tr0bUw3BhoB

All that being said, if you haven’t read it (go do it now) DON’T READ ANY FURTHER AS EVERYTHING BELOW CONTAINS SPOILERS.

All I can say is wow. This is such an amazing follow up packed with so much amazing content and character development and I love it so much. I have agonized over how this playlist works, and I’m still not sure if it’s perfect, but I’m content with it, and I hope it feels right to everyone else. Just a heads up, the pacing is everywhere so there’s some places with some blank space and some with five songs for a smaller portion. I leave out a lot of important events and include a lot that maybe didn’t need included.

I love listening to the songs/watching the clips you link to for inspiration for your writing, and I can’t help but take note that a lot of what you listen to is of a different genre than what I typically go for. So, as a challenge for myself, I tried to include mostly softer stuff like Jaymes Young and leave out artists like Bring Me The Horizon. I really enjoyed it, but you can be the judge of how well I did. I think I am a very bad judge of what qualifies as softer stuff. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

1. “City In A Garden” by Fall Out Boy

This whole ep is about Chicago and how much the band loves the city, and I chose this song because a couple of the lyrics stuck out to me in relation to the story. Honestly though, my main reason for choosing this song was for the setting of the story. I live in the midwest, but I’ve never really seen the appeal of Chicago honestly. Regardless, both Shane and Fall Out Boy seem to really love the city so here we go.

“Feel the sorrow, hit the bottle Feel the rush of having no tomorrow, yeah She said, ‘You gotta find yourself something worth holding onto’”

These lyrics capture Shane’s leftover feelings from the previous installment and how even though they haven’t seen each other in a few years, he’s still holding onto Ryan.

“You charged me up, charged, charged me up I was something they forgot to label ‘fragile’ Now I'm stuck And you know too much, know, know too much You're the one true thing You're the one”

This pre-chorus bit changes a couple times throughout the song, and the next one is also applicable, but I chose this one because it holds a little foreshadowing. The whole “i’m stuck” and “you know too much” are all little things that could be used to hint at some conflict later in the story. The bit about being something they forgot to label “fragile” is in reference to the ending of the last fic and how it’s shaped him into who he is now.

2. “Sugar Burn” by Jaymes Young

This song is for when they first meet up again and how they both have pretty strong feelings and also what comes next. It captures a lot of their (chaotic) relationship and how they’re both sort of unsure of what to do now that they actively have access to each other. The word “still” is used a lot in the song which I think can be used to refer to how they have this history and can’t help but reflect.

“I tried so hard to escape you But I found out there's nowhere to run It's too easy to love and to hate you Oh my healing has only begun”

While they didn’t actively try to escape each other, Shane did leave Ryan there in an attempt to save both of them only to end up in a similar situation again. The lyric “it’s too easy to love and to hate you” is a pretty good summary for their entire relationship honestly. They both have very strong feelings for each other, but there are some definite swings in there.

“Every night you trick me into your arms But you never stay, when I awake, no Every time I feel your false alarm And it's such a shame you were gone so long”

The bridge sums up a lot of their situation from the point they meet, but also their thoughts throughout the rest of the fic. The lyric “but you never stay” is in reference to how Shane keeps leaving in the night. “And it’s such a shame you were gone so long” sums up how they feel once they meet up again.

3. “Oceans” by Seafret

Seafret is another one of my all time favorite artists and I’m really happy that I was able to fit one of their songs in here. This song captures a lot of the unspoken doubts that creep in as they work on rebuilding thier relationship. The whole “we don’t talk about work or anything that really matters” comes through in this song.

“It feels like there's oceans Between me and you once again We hide our emotions Under the surface and try to pretend But it feels like there's oceans Between you and me”

Did I take the entire chorus? Yes. But does it apply? Also yes. A recurring theme throughout the entire story is how they tend to be downplaying how deep their feelings for each other are which is reflected in the lyrics “We hide our emotions / under the surface and try to pretend.” Another thing that’s affecting their relationship is the distance created by both of them being unwilling to tell the other one what they’re doing for “work” and why they’re in Chicago.

“I want you And I always will I wish I was worth But I know you deserve You know I'd rather drown Than to go on without you But you're pulling me down”

This one is more for Shane than Ryan. Shane feels that he shouldn’t, can’t, be dragging Ryan down to where he is. He doesn’t want Ryan to end up like him, and he doesn’t want Ryan to ruin his life for him. He thinks that Ryan deserves better than him, but he can’t let him go. To be fair, that part, at least, goes both ways.

4. “Parachute” by Jaymes Young

They’re both really frustrated with the lack of information they’re getting from each other. This same tension and doubt is carried for a while and could fit a lot of places. A big part of the reason it took me so long to finish this is because I couldn’t decide where this song, the Paramore song, and the As It Is song should go in relation to each other. I’m still not sure if they are in the best place, but I think it’s alright.

“I see your skin turn red When you lie If you don't want to tell me nothing Then you can go straight to hell Now I'm gonna tell you something: You fucked this up yourself”

Personally, I think this best fits with the moment Ryan decides that the next time Shane leaves, he’s following. He is so fed up with all of the communication issues between them, and just really wants to know what’s going on. The last line is in there because he’s adament that Shane just needs to stop and (somewhat fairly) blames his manipulation and hiding things for everything going down. I could pull out more lyrics, but they all support the same point.

5. “Playing God” by Paramore

This is one I threw in relatively late and struggled a lot to decide where it belongs. This song brings in a lot of the doubts and how they definitely need to be voiced, and how perhaps voicing them in such a straightforward way is necessary but not great. I mainly chose this song to fit with the scene where Ryan sneaks out after Shane to see what he’s doing.

“Well, maybe you should tie me up So I don't go where you don't want me”

In reference to how Ryan literally goes where Shane doesn’t want him. I’m pretty sure he at some point mentions that if Shane really doesn’t want him to check things out for himself, he’ll have to tie him up. However, I may be wrong about that and I’ve just thought about it a lot, I can’t quite remember.

“This is the last second chance I'm half as good as it gets I'm on both sides of the fence Without a hint of regret I'll hold you to it”

How they’re both so. angry. at each other, but despite it all really don’t want to break everything. These are mostly from Ryan in my opinion. The whole “this is the last second chance” is in reference to how Ryan is so frustrated with the choices that Shane is making. The rest could go for both and how they both don’t want to be each other's weakness, but also don’t want to leave the other.

6. “Silence (Pretending’s So Comfortable)” by As It Is

It’s confrontation time. This song gives a much more calm feel than any confrontation that every occurs between the two of them, but it fits with the way they’ve been dealing with stuff.

“I breathe nervous and slow Well you're desperate for air My eyes sink to the floor Yours go bounce down the stair In my tears you know I meant all I said As every elegant word I said sinks in again [Chorus] The silence tells us all we need to know (need to know) Pretending's so comfortable But I have to go for the last time”

This is a hefty chunk of the song, but it all goes to prove the same point. In this song, Shane is “I” and Ryan is the person he’s talking to. Shane can’t stop killing, Ryan can’t let him get away with it. Ryan wants him to stop if only for the sake of what they have, in order to keep what they have Shane has to keep doing it. Quite the stalemate. The whole mood of the song fits pretty well as well. They both want to address it, but it’s not exactly easy to confront the issue so there’s a lot of silence and building and making everything worse.

“We won't just talk at all, we'll just wonder would we still swallow glass for each other“

Have they majorly fucked things up? Yes. But are the feelings still there? Well they really wish they weren’t, but guess what buddy. It’s not that easy. Things are really rough right now and things would be much easier if they could figure out how to just talk it out.

“As I stand to the moment Your four walls full of fear”

(bonus lyric! how fun!) They’re going to fuck shit up for each other. Shane will do anything to literally murder Ryan. Ryan will do anything to put Shane behind bars for the rest of his life/get him sentenced to the death penalty. Things are not great. They need to go to couples counselling.

7. “Far Too Young to Die” by Panic! At The Disco

This song is for the scene(s) with the press release and what happens after. They are both so fixated on each other that they can barely think of anything else which is reflected well in this song. I mostly chose it for the mood and sound of it, but lyrically it’s pretty nice too. Now that I’m actually looking at the analysis, it doesn't fit quite as well as I had originally thought, but the theme is there.

“I've never so adored you I'm twisting allegories now I want to complicate you Don't let me do this to myself I'm chasing roller coasters I've got to have you closer now Endless romantic stories You never could control me”

This relates to how they are both really struggling to hold onto this enmity because they’re both. so. enamoured. with. each. other. It also comes into play in the conversation between the two of them at the courthouse where Ryan is pretty much falling apart because it’s too much. However, if you look at it like the song is from Shane’s point of view (which was my original intent, but it works for both), “you never could control me” is in reference to how everyone, especially the media and Horsley, like to point out to Ryan every time he has failed at controlling Shane.

“Well, I never really thought that you'd come tonight While the crown hangs heavy on either side Give me one last kiss while we're far too young to die”

This bit refers how neither of them were really sure if they could go through with everything, and then here they are. The middle line is a reference to a Shakespeare play (Henry VI) but twisted a little and is meant to represent how the two people must choose the direction to take with their relationship which I think is pretty applicable here.

Sidenote: I literally never bring up how Shane blows up the courthouse???? Not sure how that happens, but like I said, pacing is nonexistent here. I feel like that’s a big enough event it should have been included though lmao. Also, the scene you linked to in the fic for inspiration on that was amazing and I 100% see why you chose that.

8. “Blockades” by Muse

This song is meant to represent the scene where Shane comes in to kill Horsley and everything that follows with the two of them. Things are pretty high tension.

“The truth is that when I am killing in order to survive I have never felt so alive I am always seeking to live and die on the edge Life is a broken simulation, I'm unable to feel I'm searching for something that's real I am always seeking to see what's behind the veil”

This is the first part of the song, but also the part that I think fits best out of the whole song. The first two lines especially capture Shane’s outlook on life for the past couple years. He feels he must keep killing because at this point there is no other option for him.

“I never sleep or rest But I'm still running out of time I have sacrificed all of my life The time has come to To prove to you what I'm worth”

Shane’s feelings on why he has to kill Horsley. He desperately hopes that this enough to show Ryan that he loves him and he has quite literally sacrificed any chance he had at a new life for him. However, he also needs to prove to Horsley that he will always have the last laugh.

9. “Infinity” by Jaymes Young

This song is for when Ryan actually kills Horsley, when he calls Shane, and when Shane comes to help ft. maybe a lot of the feelings attached. However, also a little for the lines “He could've pulled that trigger, and his list would be wiped. But he hadn't. Because he was still in love with Ryan, and deep down, Ryan knew full well that he was in love with him too.” In

“Baby this love, I'll never let it die Can't be touched by no one, I'd like to see him try I'm a mad man for your touch Girl, I've lost control I'm gonna make this last forever Don't tell me it's impossible”

I take this for the moments before Ryan pulls the trigger, even though we don’t actually see much of it in the fic itself. Horsley tries so hard to “discreetly” manipulate him into getting on her side and going against Shane, but Ryan can easily see through it now and he’s not going to let anyone take Shane from him now. I can Ryan (or Shane, for that matter, but at a different time) actually saying those last two lines in the moments before he pulls the trigger. He’s in so deep and I don’t think Horsley even understood until the very end.

“Meet me at the bottom of the ocean Where the time is frozen Where all the universe is open Love isn't random, we are chosen And we could wear the same crown Keep slowing your heart down We are the gods now”

This is a portion that you have to listen to in order to get. I chose it not so much for the lyric portion, and mostly for the overall feel of the bridge. It has the same sort of shocked, intimate, mildly comforting, and almost liminal space kind of vibe that I get from when Shane arives through the ride back to his place.

11. “Overtime” by Seafret

“‘Marriage, kids, all of it.’ He turned his head to look at the other man, feeling choked up already. ‘I think I would've done that with you.’” Aka, where I started crying.

“Time moved on, but nothing changed Different roads when we stayed the same Found a light that never fades You gave me hope on the darkest days How you came out of nowhere”

They were apart, they still had feelings. Things are really emotional right now and I want to give them a big hug and maybe need one myself after reading this scene. This song itself is actually pretty self explanatory in how the lyrics apply to this scene. Fun fact, I actually had the song “Overtime” (also by Seafret) and only changed it as I was typing this up, but it also applies. I felt like this one was a little softer.

“And I just can't turn away, feelings don't hesitate I'll be crushed under the waves, if that's the price I'll pay I'd offer all the more, love holds an open door Inside the world's on pause, what are we waiting for?”

They’re in love and I’m crying.

12. “Blackout” by Muse

This is the sort of calm before the storm song. Emotions are high and things are sad, and I am sad, and I cried through the entire rest of the story, and it’s just. Things are really rough for everyone in this moment. I chose this song almost totally for the overall vibe and there are only 12 lines total, but some of them apply. Especially for these lines:

"No, no, you don't-" Ryan ducked under the barrier, ignoring the yells of the closest cop as he skidded to a halt against Shane, arms around him, face pressed into his chest. He felt the taller man's cuffed hands go over him, felt the chin resting on top of his head. "Don't leave me again."

Shane bit his lip hard, closing his watery eyes. "I have to."

“Don't kid yourself And don't fool yourself This love's too good to last And I'm too old to dream”

There’s no other option at this point. Things have gone to far. They always knew that things could never truly work between them given their situation, and up until now they could still hope but by now it’s too late. Everyone’s crying at this point, including a couple reporters because it turns out heartbreak is painful for everyone involved, including those experiencing it second hand.

13. “All I Wanted” by Paramore

I’d originally had this at the beginning, but after getting to this part I immediately moved it. Paramore once again has created a song that fits perfectly and I am once again crying. This song is from Ryan’s point of view after Shane is taken. The entire month he’s at his parents house. Everything from the time Shane gets taken up until the call. This one’s a lot. Every lyric fits.

“And when the world treats you way too fairly”

This is just one little line, but boy oh boy does it fit. Things really came full circle and Shane is getting exactly what he deserves but man does it hurt.

“I could follow you to the beginning And just to relive the start And maybe then we'll remember to slow down At all of our favorite parts”

I really wish they were living in literally any other timeline where they could actually work. I wish they could be happy.

“All I wanted was you All I wanted was you All I wanted was you All I wanted was you”

Hayley really captures all of the emotion in these lyrics and it’s amazing. There’s one time where it’s just her voice with no backing music and. it’s a lot but it fits. Everyone’s sad, especially me.

14. “Something Human” by Muse

This is another one I chose largely for the mood, but upon reading through the lyrics, there’s actually some pretty good ones. I almost used the song “Pressure” (also by Muse) but decided this one was better. For the phone call and everything after. For Shane.

“My life just blew up, I'd give it all up I'll depressurize”

He’s once again restarting his life, but it’s worth it.

“The big picture's gone Replaced with visions of you Now life can begin, I've cleansed all my sins I'm about to break through”

He’s done killing for Ryan and he’s ready to live a different life. Preferably with more Ryan. Also better and safer. The third lyric I associate with how it’s mentioned that Sara is back with him because she felt that him confessing to the crimes was honorable and the right thing.

Bonus song! “Oh Glory” by Panic! At The Disco

I really wanted to include this, but turns out it’s not on spotify because it’s a demo that was included on some extended edition of Vices and Virtues. Anyway, I think it kind of sums up Shane’s character and a little of his motivations. I mostly associate the first few lines (which apparently is a trend through a lot of my picks).

“I can only hope it's true enough That every little thing I do for love Redeems me from the moments I deem worthy Of the worst things that I've done”

The clarity of the first line of the song really strikes me and immediately made me think “Shane” when I was listening to this song. This is one of my all time favorite songs, and I’m glad I could include it, no matter how loosley.

“If I wake in the morning I only need two more miracles to be a saint Everything I promised everyone I'd be Well, I just ain't”

Shane tries to be better for Ryan, but he can’t.

I really hope you like it! Once again, sorry it’s so long. (I saved my progress in a google doc as i went and according to the word count it’s almost 4k...... i have a 500 word essay i don’t have the motivation for and yet i wrote this with no problem) I spend a lot of time listening to this playlist just to get a good feel for what I was working with and I’m still not sure if it’s perfect, but I think I like where it’s at now. I absolutely adore this series, and I hope this shows at least some of my gratitude.

#icantwritegood #beautiful crime #road trip #recommended reads #mine #music #playlist #anyway #i worked a lot on this so i hope you like my analysis of stuff #i'm fried from all of the essays i've been writing in school so this flows really weird writing wise for which i apologize #my finals start wednesday #and i have so many things due that i don't have the motivation to work on #also sorry this is so late!#i was gone both weekends of break #and had family over during the week #and just took some time to read the stephen king book i've been like 1/3 of the way through forever the last few days #i just haven't had any motivation #i know this is like the 5th time but #i'm so sorry this ended up being so long

4 notes · View notes

miki-snake · 6 years

Text

Nine months later

A/N: Well, here it is! The fic for the writing challenge run by @dylanobemineforever with the song Be Happy by FRND. It is the first fic I’ve written and the first thing I am posting. I hope it is not too confusing and that you enjoy it. A HUGE THANK YOU to @mf-despair-queen for proofreading this thing, I don’t know what I would’ve done without her help. The task was to write a fan fiction based on a song but I guess I just used it at the end (?). I would love to post some more things in the future so please give me a feedback on it (not that anyone will read it anyway)! So without further ado... ENJOY!

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Words: 12k+

Song: Be Happy - FRND (but mostly at the end)

It has been nine months since I had last seen that face. Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski. In the nine months not seen each other, he didn’t change that much. Still the same spikes hair, just a little bit longer. The same soft features but with a light scruff on the jaw. The same amber brown eyes but with signs of backs under them. And the same dazzling smile that makes my knees give in.

The first one to notice me at the doorway was my best friend, Lydia Martin. “Y/N! Oh my god! I missed you so much. Where have you been?” She approaches me with a bright smile and hugs me so tight, you would think we hadn’t met in a century.

I chuckle at her question. “You know exactly where I’ve been, redhead! You know, traveling and forgetting the world. Finding myself.“

She is pushing me an arm’s length away from her and looks me deep in the eyes with a serious expression. In her gaze, I sense some sort of sad seriousness but I also get a feeling that she is hiding something from me. For a minute, I feel like I was standing full naked right in front of her, which makes me really uneasy. It’s not the feeling of being physically naked, but it feels like my feelings are exposed.

Suddenly, she breaks into her smile again and starts tugging me inside the room. “Well, I hope you have found what you were looking for! Because today, we’re gonna forget everything again. It’s time to party!” She shouts and with that said, she hands me a red plastic cup and leaves me alone in the middle of the living room, half walking and half dancing off to the other guests.

My eyes automatically search for the person that already caught my eye.

Stiles.

He was the reason for this party. It’s his birthday. Well, not exactly; it’s nearly his birthday, just four more hours to go. I spot him at the kitchen counter with Tiffany, their faces merely inches apart. Even after nine months, seeing him like this is still tearing me apart but it’s like I am paralyzed. I don’t want to look at them, the pain still seeping through my blood, yet I can’t avert my eyes from their forms tangling together. His amber eyes shining with so much love and adoration towards her and her smiling so brightly, looking at him with so much passion. It numbs me.

A hand on my shoulder rips me out of my thoughts. I turn to the person and meet dark brown eyes with a flash of crimson red in them. “Scott! You startled me!” Despite him making me jump like that, I am happy to see him again. Scott didn’t change at all. Still the uneven jaw, the same bright smile, and the same kind and calm eyes.

Though he was the one that dragged us all into the supernatural world unintentionally, he seems like the most unaffected one. Besides his appearance changing from the asthmatic, slender boy to the strong werewolf with great muscles and a tattoo, he didn’t really change in his personality - his behavior. In a way, Scott has always been the “true alpha”. He always saw the good in people, gave them as many chances as they needed and he never gave up on someone.

While nearly all of us changed in our way of being, not only in the appearance but how we act towards others and how we think of ourselves, he stayed true to who he was. I admired him for being this strong and holding on to who he is. I mean, what we all did was grow. We changed, mainly for the better, but some of us also changed for the worse in some parts.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t want to scare you. You just seemed very absorbed in something, or should I say someone? I thought I should wake you up from your trance.” He smiled at me but in his eyes I can see his concern and, in a way, it is the same look Lydia gave me before. Concern, sadness, seriousness, and like he was hiding something from me. I frown at his look but shake my head again. What could they possibly hide from me?

“Scott, I’m good.“ His right brow rises and he looks at me with a deadpanned expression. Again, I feel completely exposed.

“Sure. Y/N, you do know that I can smell feelings? And you clearly reek of jealousy and hurt. You don’t have to lie to me. He may be my best friend, but did you forget that you are too?“

My eyes shift back to the happy couple at the kitchen counter. Their faces weren’t inches away from each other anymore, but now it looks like they are devouring each other. I scrunch my nose from disgust and turn my head back to Scott, though my mind stays with the couple.

With a huff, I take Scott by his right arm and drag him through the sweating and dancing bodies to the veranda at the backdoor. In an instant, I was hit by the cold air, but the stress of the situation didn’t give me a chance to recognize any of the temperatures of the night.

“You’re a great friend Scott, but I’m the worst! I’m also his best friend and I should be happy for him. I thought that the nine months apart may help me… let go.“ I turn my gaze up to the sky and take a deep breath to fill my lungs with the fresh air surrounding us.

“You’re not the worst. You can’t decide what you feel, Y/N. It wasn’t your choice to fall in love.“ He takes a step forward to stand next to me at the railing.

“But I could’ve chosen to ignore it, to let go of it!” Saying that, I feel my chest tightening and a wave of feelings flooding back into my heart - feelings that I tried to hold back in a chamber in the darkest corner of my heart - making it heavy again.

“Oh really? You told me that you tried. You tried to shove them away and then what? You denied your feelings, Y/N! What about staying true to yourself? What about the truth?! You knew from the beginning that you couldn’t hide them forever.”

“Well, it was easier said than done, Scott, and you know that! You know how hard it was for me to see them together. I couldn’t tell him! He was so happy. It felt like our time together never existed. All the bad times we had to go through but also all of our times being happy, being together. All gone! And it is not like I never told him what I felt. I did, I told him and after that he just started to ignore me.” Nearly shouting at him, I turn away not daring to face him right now.

I can feel my eyes starting to burn and my lips starting to tremble. There is no need to look him in his eyes, I know it already. His gaze would be full of pity; that’s the last thing I need right now.

“Y/N, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel like it was your fault,” he says in a soft tone. I can hear him slowly approaching me like he is scared that if he makes a wrong move, I would run off instantly. Well, I probably would.

“Scott please, I need some time. Can you, you know, leave me alone for a bit? I swear, I’m not running off into the darkness.“ I try to sound brave but the slight crack in my voice gives me away.

“Y/N-“

“No, please.“

Heavy footsteps turn to the door, slowly walking away. With the sound of the door falling in the lock, I let myself fall to the ground, my back resting against the railing.

All of the sudden, the freezing air hits me like a train at full speed. My whole body starts to shiver and all I’m concentrating on are the tears that are streaming down my face. The world before my eyes is nothing but a blur, taking a deep breath to fill my lungs with the much needed oxygen but it feels like all I’m breathing in is nothing but dust.

I let my head fall into my neck, desperately trying to give the air access to my lungs. The tears sting in my eyes and my whole body is aching from the lack of oxygen, I try to focus on the sky above my head. The sky was pitch black with some stars looking like white sprinkles on a black canvas. The silent night surrounding me like a friend trying to calm my nerves.

My ragged breathing slows down to normal again. Every muscle of my body gives in and the air comes rushing back into my lungs. My head spins, my chest hurts and I’m getting a nauseous feeling.

A faint sound of someone closing the door comes to my ears.

“Y/N?“

As fast as I can, I try to wipe my tears away, but the trembling of my hands doesn’t make it any easier for me. I hold onto the railing and pull myself up on my two feet, legs still quivering, with no courage to look at the person behind me.

“Y/N, you okay? How long has it been? I’m really glad that you’re here. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you would come.” His steps stop right next to me, his gaze laid on me. No words come out of my mouth, too scared of my voice betraying me.

Stiles p.o.v

“Tiffany! What are you doing here?“ I look up, surprised to see her.

“Stiles, it’s your birthday. Why wouldn’t I come to your birthday? Don’t worry, I’m not mad or anything and I’m also not here to ruin it for you.“ Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes looking straight into my eyes. I don’t need to be a werewolf to know that she is not lying.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that and well, it is not exactly my birthday yet. But it’s good to see you, really.” I smile at her, standing up to embrace her.

The last time I had seen her was two months ago. She was visiting me in Washington D.C., at the FBI station, surprising me with the words “Happy Anniversary!“ I totally forgot that it was our anniversary of being together for two years and she picked up on it really fast. She brushed it off like it was nothing, that she was fine with it. So, we went out shopping and then to dinner, but it wasn’t that fine.

I knew from the beginning that it was bothering her and she had the right to be bothered by it. So, after dinner, I tried to talk it out with her. It was like I ignited a bomb and all of a sudden she exploded on me, like a wildfire that couldn’t be stopped. We had been together for two years but after the first year, it already felt like we would fall apart. No one said anything and we just brushed it off on the stress of our work and because of the distance, but both of us knew that it wasn’t that easy. At some point, we had to talk about it.

So, our second anniversary seemed to be just the right day for us to talk about it. We shouted, she cried, I nearly left, she screamed, I begged, we talked, we broke up. We broke up, but for good. We knew that it was on both of us and we decided that we would still be friends.

That was two months ago. In those two months apart, we barely talked, so in a way, yes, I am really surprised to see her today.

It’s already 11 pm and the people were either already drunk or on the way, including me. I can feel the booze flowing through my system, my body and mind growing giddy.

I see Tiffany slowly approaching me with a seductive smile on her face. I know I should hit and run, but something just made me stay rooted at my spot. It was clear that she also had one or two drinks already; her walk a bit out of balance.

“Stiles, I really missed you, you know?“ She slurred, her gaze trying to focus on me, with no success. Her actions made me laugh and she took it as an invitation, taking a step forward, our faces merely inches apart. I stopped to laugh and look in her eyes. Without a single word she puts her hands on my cheeks, holding me in place. Her face is slowly but surely moving closer to mine, her gaze fixed on my lips. I knew that I should stop her but the alcohol was clouding my brain so much that it slipped down into my pants. So, I don’t stop her.

Her lips crashed down on mine and I respond nearly immediately, like a reflex. My hands move to her hips, pulling her to me and her hands slide behind my neck, holding onto me. For a moment it feels like our break up didn’t happen. But it doesn’t feel right. We didn’t quite fit together like we used to.

Instead of (n/y/h/c) hair and (n/y/e/c) eyes I see (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. In an instant I open my eyes and push her away.

“Tiffany-” I said, finally finding my voice again.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry. I just needed to know.“ Her voice rushed and small, face clear of any alcohol, her eyes suddenly seemed to find the floor very interesting. “I… better get going.“ She moves to leave but I catch her left arm as she passes me.

“Tiffany, I think you should know that I don’t regret the two years we were together. I really liked you, maybe even loved you in a way. I’m sorry that it ended how it did. You will always be special to me, maybe not as a girlfriend, but at least as a friend.“

A smile slips on her face as she looks up to meet my eyes again. “I also don’t regret the time we spent together. I’m really sure that I loved you but I also knew from the start that you were unsure. I still took the risk, in hope that someday you could get over it. I made a lot of bad decisions in my life, Stiles. Some of them were intentional and some were not. I hoped for forgiveness and I got it, even after all I did. I was wrong. Now, I have to do what is right. We both know that it wasn’t only because of the distance and the not talking that we fell apart. We tried to force something that just wasn’t meant to be.“ She is still smiling but the crack in her voice gives her away.

I smile at her and pull her into a tight embrace. “Thank you.“ I whisper, only for her to hear.

“There is nothing to thank me for.” She whispers back. We slowly let go of each other and she smiles at me one last time, turning around and disappearing into the crowd. It was for the better.

I spot Scott stepping into the room from the backdoor, looking not happy at all. I make my way through the crowd to talk to him. “Hey Scotty. What’s got you so grumpy? Malia still mad at you and not letting you… you know?“ I say, wiggling with my eyebrows and smirking at him, trying to light up the mood a bit.

“Stiles, not now.“ He tries to walk passed me and avoids any eye contact. I stop him, blocking his path.

“Come on. What is it, sour wolf?“ Finally he looks at me. Actually, he glares at me.

“I thought you and Tiffany broke up?“ he snaps. My eyebrows automatically rise, I didn’t see that coming.

“Yeah, I already told you that, Scott. We broke up two months ago. I called you that day remember?“ I state with a calm voice, not wanting to provoke him anymore. “But what does it have to do with you being that angry?“

“If you broke up with her, then why did you both stick your tongue in each others mouths?“ He asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest, looking at me with a disapproving gaze. His question bothers me in a way, but I can’t point out the reason why.

“For your information, she initiated the kiss and I guess I just forgot myself at that moment. You know we broke up but for good, Scott. I really cared about her. I still do. I don’t regret trying to be with her. We tried and it didn’t work out. We’re not the only couple that had to experience that.“

He still stares at me, but this time I stare back. Why is he so worked up about it? It was just a kiss. Yes, we broke up, but it was just the heat of the moment. “What did I do wrong this time?“ I asked him, honestly not getting a clue on why he is acting like that and slowly getting sick of it. It feels like he knows something that I don’t, and it bothers me.

“What you did? Stiles, remember the time nine months ago? What happened there? What did you do wrong then?“ His eyes flashed a dangerous red. Normally, this would be my sign to retreat and calling Malia to calm him. But not this time.

“Why do you have to bring that up? What happened nine months ago is in the past.“ We both glare at each other, each one of us taking a step forward, ready for a fight.

“Stiles, you can’t run away from your problems.“ He speaks very slow, as if he speaks to a child trying to make it understand what he says.

“I’m. Not. Running. Away.“ I may not be a wolf but that surely came out as a growl. Before either of us can react, we were both yanked away from each other.

“What are you guys doing? Did your stupidity get on a next level?“ Lydia looking at both of us with a stern expression, her strong grip on my right arm and Malia holding Scott back. Both of us are out of breath, anger still in our veins.

“So, what is going on with the both of you?“ Malia asked, her face full of surprise. I guess no one expected me to get into a fight with my best friend at my birthday party.

“Stiles.“ I refuse to look at Scott, still upset and having a great feeling of discomfort about what is going to come. “Stiles, if you really want to know why I’m so mad, then why don’t you go out to the veranda and take a look for yourself.“ I look up at him, his facial expression has softened and his gaze at me, not full of anger but full of concern. Actually, all of them are looking at me like that.

“What is with you guys? I feel like you know something I don’t and I hate that feeling.“

“Stiles-“

“Oh no, do not Stiles me, Lydia! We both know that it won’t work.“

Malia let out a low growl and grabbed me harshly at my left elbow, dragging me through the crowd to the backdoor.

I roll my eyes at her, rubbing at my wounded elbow. I'm pretty sure I felt some claws. "And what on earth do you want me to do now?" I was angry and my sarcasm won't budge, not even in front of a very pissed-of-looking werecoyote.

Malia’s eyes glow in a sharp blue, "Get out there. Now."

No matter what you say but it was not Malia who got me to turn back to the door. I had mixed feelings about going out there. I grab the handle and open the door slowly, taking one step at a time. I expected a lot of things, but not what I was seeing right in front of me. Immediately I halt in my movements, my breath stuck in my throat. My hands rub my eyes and I take another look. But she was still there, she wasn’t an imagination.

"Y/N?" My voice getting thin at the sight in front of me.

She is sitting with her back at the railing, her right side facing me. As soon as she hears my voice, she quickly stands up and rushes to smooth out her clothes again and her hands wiping over her face. Still, I can see that her legs are shivering. Also, I don't need to be a genius to know that she was crying.

Now, I know what they were hiding and why Scott was mad at me.

I step next to her left, my eyes never leaving her trembling form. “Y/N, you okay? How long has it been? I’m really glad that you’re here. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you would come.“ Instantly I want to slap myself for what I had said. Seeing her hurtful expression, all I want to do is holding her in my arms, patting her head and telling her that everything will be okay. But I can’t. I have no right to do that.

Y/N p.o.v

“So… w-what happened? Why are you crying?“ His voice laced with full concern, but I’m too absorbed in my own mind to notice.

"Why am I crying?" A helpless laugh escapes my lips, nearly sounding hysteric. "I really don't know why." My voice cracks and I want to hit myself for not getting my shit together. I try to swipe my tears away but they keep on flowing, nothing holding them back. I guess after nine months holding everything back, not allowing myself once to think about him and cry, the dam finally broke beyond repair. There is no way I will look him in the eyes right now. I wished I could just let myself fall into his chest and let his warmth embrace me, forgetting all of my worries and problems. The only problem here is Stiles being one of my worries and problems.

"Y/N... I'm-" He starts, saying my name in such a soft tone. I just yearn for more.

"Stop!" I shout at him, not really knowing where that came from, feeling too overwhelmed because of everything. Just one minute has past, but the tension makes it feel like an eternity, nearly stopping the time. The silence was so loud ringing in my ears, I could go insane.

His fingers tapping against the old oakwood of the railing. I can't look at his face but his action drawing my attention to his hands, hypnotizing me with such a small movement. Those veiny hands with the slender fingers, the tapping sound so lightly.

I remember the time where he used those hands on me. Soft touches of just his fingers making me feel safe again. Holding hands, embracing each other, him playing with my hair or just our fingers brushing lightly together by coincidence.

Who am I lying to. It could be any part of him, I would still love it. Whether it be his hair, his legs, his arms, his mouth or his eyes.

Lord, his eyes. Those amber eyes, sometimes shining like honey and sometimes dunked in melted chocolate. He used to look at me like I was everything he ever searched for. When I looked into his eyes, it was like there was no one around us. Just him and I, alone. I loved that feeling.

Too fast, those moments vanished away. We couldn’t hold onto them, no matter how hard we tried. At some point, you just have to leave the past and open for the future or you will be forgotten too.

Yet, this was easier said than done. When you believed that there is no real future waiting for you, then all you have is the past, holding onto it like it was your tether.

Stiles and I used to get in his Jeep and drive up the hill in the woods. We laid on Roscoe’s hood and talked about the future. It was mostly him talking and me listening. What really surprised me at first was that he included me in all his plans. I asked him once why he would do that and he told me that he didn’t want to imagine a future without me.

A bitter thought, looking at our current situation.

But back then, I believed him. Or rather, I wanted to believe him. I always had my doubts towards his plans, them seemingly unrealistic to me. Still, I really liked how he talked about his plans, plans including both of us together, being happy. It touched my heart to see someone talk and imagine such a bright future for me, where else I never had the courage to imagine those things. Too scared to be disappointed again. But he didn’t give up on me like that, always seeing a chance for me.

At some point my tears ceased and oddly, I feel at ease. The silence was no longer a piercing sound in my ear and the time came back from eternity.

My eyes still gaze at his hands, tapping away, while I can feel his stare on my face. I’m pretty sure that my hair was covering half of my face, not showing him much, but he has seen my face so many times, he probably could imagine how I look like. We just stand there no one dares to disturb the peaceful silence, rather enjoying it. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, remembering the time where it didn’t hurt to just look at Stiles. A time where I could’ve told him anything without the fear of him turning his back to me. A time so peaceful, it was obvious that it was just the calm before the storm.

Suddenly, his right hand starts to wander, moving slowly. My gaze stays fixed on his hands following its movement. His hand moves next to my left hand that was also resting on the railing, so close, they are nearly touching. I need to concentrate on not giving in to the urge, wanting to put my hand over his. Even though our hands aren’t touching, I feel the heat radiating over to mine, making me just want to crash into his chest so he could ease my freezing. All the while, his stare didn’t move away either, still fixed on me.

Not knowing where I took the courage from, I turn my gaze from Stiles’ hand to his face. His eyes shine in a honey brown, reflecting the moonlight. His features are soft, a small smile lays on his lips, making my heart flutter.

“Why are you here?“ I ask him, voice a bit rough from all the crying.

”Well, I don’t know if you knew, but it’s my birthday and this is actually my home.“ He smiles at me trying to lighten the mood. I know that he tried but this won’t cut it this time.

“No, Stiles. I meant why are you here with me? Why are you standing next to me, here on the veranda, out in the cold?“ I sigh. He looks a bit taken aback by the questions, not exactly expecting me to ask that, but I needed to know. He couldn’t just stand next to me and expect me to be fine, like nothing ever happened between us. I hear my blood pounding in my ears, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I’m not sure if I’m ready for the answer yet, but there is no way I let him leave me in the unknown again.

Stiles p.o.v

2 months earlier

“Tiffany, why won’t you tell me what is bothering you? You tell me that you’re fine, when you’re not being fine with me forgetting our anniversary. I understand it, but why won’t you just tell me?“ I asked her for the thousandth time today. We were just coming back from dinner to my small apartment. Nothing extraordinary, just a simple one-room apartment with a small bathroom. It wasn’t much, but enough to shelter me from reality. We barely talked at dinner and the tension was getting thicker and thicker with every passing second. So, now I’m trying to confront her about it directly, not giving her a chance to avoid this talk again. The talk was long overdue.

“It’s nothing Stiles, really. I’ve told you that I’m not bothered. So, I’m not, okay?”

She’s lying. Her voice dripping from annoyance and trembling, probably out of anger.

“That’s not true. Why don’t you just tell me what got you so worked up, because it feels like it is not only because of the anniversary. I want to understand, Tiff. Why lie to me?“

In an instant she whizzes around, looking me straight in the eye. “Lie to you? Why do you lie to me, Stiles? Don’t you want to tell me that first? Huh?!“ She nearly shouts, flailing her arms through the air, her eyes are glowing full of anger and something else I can’t quite place.

Her outburst has still taken me aback, making me take a step back. What is she talking about? Why would I lie to her? She was the one who couldn’t tell me the truth.

“First, don’t turn it around now, trying to avoid my questions. Second, when did I lie to you? I don’t get what you’re trying to imply here.“

“Oh, I’m not turning it around. I’m trying to explain to you why I’m so mad. So, you didn’t lie? Are you sure?“ Her eyes narrow, glaring at me, hands stemmed at her hips and her right foot tapping on the ground, waiting impatiently for an answer. She looks like a mother scolding her five-years old son. But my patience is also wearing thin. I take a step forward, returning her glare.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure that I’m not lying and I don’t know what you are trying to get out of me. So, why don’t you just do real talk for a bit and you tell me what you mean.“ I’m trying to sound as calm as possible but some words came through gritted teeth.

Tiffany shakes her head, breaking our gaze and slowly making her way to the blue couch in the middle of the room, taking a seat on the left side. My eyes follow her but my body didn’t budge from its position. “You coming to talk or what?“ She asked me, her voice in a much calmer tone.

My body moves on its own, my mind still trying to comprehend the situation. I take my seat on the right side, my hands neatly folded in my lap. Now, I feel like I’m the five-years old boy being scolded by his mom. A bad feeling spreads through my whole body, giving me a light nauseous feeling.

“Stiles, I have two simple questions for you. So first, what am I to you, Stiles?“

“You’re my girlfriend.“

She nods, a simple nod but I’m not sure whether it is a good or a bad sign. “Okay, now, do you love me, Stiles?“ she asked, her eyes shining with hope. I want to say yes, but something just made me hesitate.

“Yes.“

It was just a mere second, but it was enough to make the glint of hope vanish away. Instead of the hope, her gaze filled with sadness.

”You hesitated-“

“No-“ I tried to cut her off but she won’t have it.

“No, Stiles, it’s okay. There is no need to defend yourself.“

She moves to face another way. Her body leaning back, her face cleared from every emotion. The seconds pass by, no one of us speaking. Tiffany was too occupied with her thoughts and I was just too scared to say something.

“I tried Stiles, I really did.“ She say, so quietly, I thought I just imagined it. But I didn’t. “I tried to make you love me and only me, Stiles. But I guess this won’t work. There are always two in a relationship, Stiles. It won’t work if one of us thinks of a third person and wants to be with someone else.”

I frown, looking at her but she doesn’t look back, still facing the wall in front of us. I want to say that I’m not having any clue of what she is saying but that would be a lie. Yet, I ask her, “Tiffany, I’m not sure if I’m on the same page as you.”

“No problem. You may not get it now but you will understand. I never had a real chance with you, I knew it from the start. So, I’m not mad or anything.” Finally she faces me, her eyes glistening with her tears but a sad smile on her face.

“Tiff, I’m really trying to get what you’re saying here and I hate that I need to ask you but can you please explain what you are saying there?”

“Well, Stiles, were you ever in love? I mean before you were with me.”

I think about her question for a minute. Was I ever in love? I loved Lydia, but it was more of a crush turning into a great friendship. Malia, I would say that I loved her. So…

“Yes. I at least loved Malia. I mean, we didn’t work out in the end but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about her. Back then, I left everything behind to save her.” I tell her, remembering the time in Mexico when she was kidnapped or when she was confronted by her mother.

“Okay, yeah, I would say that counts. But Stiles, did you ever love someone so much that it hurts? Like you felt as if you were in physical pain when not being with her or seeing her getting hurt. Did you ever feel a connection with a person so deep only the two of you would understand? Was there someone you couldn’t imagine your future without? Did your heart begin to race a thousand miles when you saw that person laugh? Do you have someone, when you think about her, you instantly have to smile? Do you love someone so deeply that you would sacrifice everything for the, even if it means letting go for her to be happy?“

A face flashes in front of my mind. (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c) eyes and a smile so bright it blinds my inner eyes. Quickly, I blink and the face vanishes from my mind. I didn’t have to say anything, Tiffany’s expression showing that she already knew who I thought of. Thinking of her tugs at my heart, making it feel a bittersweet pain. I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget her. She was my best friend, more than everything I could’ve hoped for. I imagined my future with her so many times and now I’m sitting here, not even knowing where she is right now.

“It doesn’t matter, I messed up and I don’t think that there is a way we could return to how things were before.” I sigh. Why was it so hard to love someone and so hard to let go of someone you loved?

“You don’t have to go back to how things were before, Stiles. But we all know that neither of you are able to let go of each other.” She says, taking both of my hands into hers. “I did horrible things to her, Stiles. I thought that she was a threat to my family. I knew from the start that David was her father and about him leaving her to be with my mom. I knew what my mom did, but I couldn’t risk to lose him. I wanted him to be my dad. He was so nice to me, made me feel wanted, it felt like I had a family. I didn’t want him to go and leave me alone with my mother again. I didn’t need to be the perfect daughter to him, he loved me either way. I took such a good person from Y/N, turning her own father against her. I was selfish, but I want to stop. She was always so nice to me, making me feel bad for doing those things to her. But she was just so... perfect, I knew that if I didn’t do something, he would go back to her. Stiles, I took away her father. Then, I took her best friend and love. I want to change, I want to be the reason for people stay with me not because I manipulated them or because they just needed to forget someone else.” By now, she was crying and I feel myself getting to the verge of tears.

“She forgave you.” I tried to tell her.

“I know, Stiles, but that just makes it harder for me. I did all those bad things to her and she still forgave me. So, what did I do to redeem myself? I stole her best friend and the love of her life” She let out a helpless laugh.

“It wasn’t your fault. I decided to be with you. I wanted to be with you.”

“I pressured you, made you choose between your best friend and me. I shouldn’t have done that. But that is in the past now. I want to change, so please give me the chance and just realize that we are just acting out our perfect relationship. If we really wanted it to work, we would’ve had this talk a long while ago. But we didn’t.”

I knew that she was right. We hadn’t been together for a really long time, just acting out our parts as a perfect couple in front of our friends and family. I guess we broke up, and I nearly feel bad that it felt like a stone got off my chest.

This was the first step of getting back into reality, but I don’t know if I have the guts to try to fix it again. How do you fix something that was broken so often that it turned into sand, slipping through your fingers?

Y/N p.o.v

“Why I’m here...” he mumbles slowly, looking another way. My nervousness surfaces, my hand getting sweaty and my breath hitched. “I’m here because I want to be here. I saw you were crying and... I didn’t want to leave you alone like that.”

I blink a few times, letting his words sink in. In the same moment he said those words, I wanted to tell him everything and let him comfort me. But I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t get lost in those perfect amber eyes because in the end, I either drown in those eyes or in my own tears.

“Well, I am fine now, you can leave if you want.” I’m really proud of myself, my voice staying strong and didn’t crack.

That answer must have taken him by surprise because he turns his head back to face me, staring at my face, maybe to find out if I was being serious. “No.”

“No?” Now it’s my turn to be confused.

“No, I won’t leave, Y/N. ‘Cause I don’t want to.” He sighs, staring straight ahead into the night again. Taking a deep breath he begins to talk. “You know, for two months, I have tried to muster up my courage to contact you. Over time, I had my phone in my hand, I was sitting on my bed, our messenger on and fingers over the keypad, ready to type away. But I didn’t have the guts to do it. For nine months, I wanted to find a way to apologize to you, but I couldn’t find a way that was acceptable enough because there is no excuse for what I did.”

I’m surprised and also a bit touched by his sudden confession. I would lie if I would say that I didn’t feel the same way about contacting him. But I knew that I shouldn’t do it, because it would end like how it always ends for me, when I try to fight for someone that I love. I lose him once and for all. And I couldn’t lose him again.

“I never told you why I broke up our contact all of the sudden and I think you deserve to know.” Now that peaked my curiosity. He never wanted to talk about that and he told me that it was his own choice to break things with me, he couldn’t stand being near me anymore. That was the time when he broke me with just a snap of his fingers.

He lets out a shaky breath and begins to tell his story.

Stiles p.o.v

Nine months ago

With a groan my head collides with the table. For nearly five hours, I was researching into the Ghost Riders. It is already dark outside and no one else is in the library. My head was already aching but I had to find something.

See, I was right, Beacon Hills still needs us. What would this town do, when we all leave for college or university? The others just don’t understand that Beacon Hills is going to be very vulnerable without us. This town is full of supernatural creatures and the number is rising, but the people don’t know about them. So they need us to save them from those dangers.

A dull sound of a cracking door gets me out of my thoughts. My eyes turn to the doors but they are still closed. Maybe I just imagined it. I should probably stop my research and take a break… but if I don’t continue then it could be too la-

“Hello, Stiles.”

I spin my head around, searching for the source. But I already knew the voice, familiar with its sound.

The sound so light, like a feather touching my skin, making me get goosebumps. Yet, there is something different, something dark.

“I’m here, right behind you.”

As fast as I can, I spin around, looking back at my desk. There she is sitting on the desk, the papers and books all scattered around her, strands of her (y/h/c) hair covering her face. One book opened on her lab, she flips through the pages with a certain interest. I stare at her, not sure what to say.

“So, the Ghost Riders, huh? Very interesting. You do know that you won’t find a solution to get away from them right? They will come, take and make everyone forget.”

“What are you doing here? Leave me alone, you know nothing about them.” I scoff, not wanting to speak to her right now.

“Oh, I know a lot of things, Stiles. I’m pretty sure that I know more than you do. Especially about them. I know they will come and Beacon Hills, from the High School to the Veterinarian, will be nothing more than a ghost town. Everyone will forget Stiles, they won’t remember anyone, including you and your cute little friends.

The question is, who of you will they take first?”

She closes the book with a loud thud, letting the book slip out of her hands and onto the table. A wicked smile spreads over her lips, she stands up from where she sits but still leaning against the desk. A chill runs down my spine and I clench my fists at her words, not wanting to believe them. But in my heart I knew that she was right. She always was.

“Will it be you? Maybe Malia sees them first? Maybe it could even be the precious Lydia or your best buddy Scott? Your lovely Tiffany? Or maybe... they will get your dad, Sti?”

At this point, I snap, “Shut up! Don’t get my father involved in it,“ I shout at her “You can mess with me all you want, Y/N, but leave him alone! And don’t call me Sti. You have no right to call me that...” My voice fades from the shout to a thin whisper. But I know that she heard me, seeing her smile getting wider. My hands start to get sweaty, my anger rising, but I know that I can’t do anything about it.

“Come on Sti, don’t look so angry, I’m just telling the truth. What are you afraid of? Are you scared that you are the one who is going to get taken away first? I mean, we all know that you are afraid of what is going to come and I’m not talking about the Ghost Riders. What I’m talking about is what is going to come after High School. You and your friends all scattered around the country and well, the fear of being forgotten present in your mind. And you may be right with this one, Stiles. Because everyone will forget you just like your mom did.”

I grab her arms, swivel her around and shove her up against the bookshelf. My head spins from my sudden impulsive movement and from all the held back emotions that kept invading my heart and mind.

“You think you can mess with me like that?! Like I’m just a toy you can play with?! Well, you are wrong… so stop it!“ I scream at her. She flinches at my outburst, but a smirk slowly creeps up on her lips.

“There he is! What do you want to do to me, huh? We both know that you can’t do anything to me, because somewhere inside you, you know that this is your fault.“ She laughs, her eyes showing some kind of mischief but also hurt. I let her fall down to the ground and take some steps backwards, my breathing still ragged and my anger subsiding into confusing.

“What do you mean?“

“Oh Stiles, you give me the fault for all of your mistakes, but we all know that it doesn’t work that way. I can not erase your flaws.“ She pushes herself from the shelf and walks up to the desk again. I watch her carefully, my mind trying to process her words. She turns her head back to me and from her look I assume that she is trying to read my face.

“You really don’t get it, do you? Who do you think I am? What do you think I’m doing here?!“ Her voice getting loud and her eyes narrow.

“You are Y/N Y/L/N and I thought that we were best friends.“ I say, honestly not getting what she is trying to say right now.

She shakes her head like she is not believing my answer. “Yeah, best friends. I also thought that we were best friends. But my best friend doesn’t lie to me, he doesn’t give up on me, he wouldn’t forget me!“ Now it’s my turn to flinch at her outburst.

“You want to know who I am?“ There is not a single word that comes out of my mouth, so I just nod my head in silence.

“Well, you know, I am not a werewolf, werecoyote, a banshee or a fox. Stiles, I am the most cruel creature on earth. I am human. I am the truth no one wants to hear. You were scared of yourself with the Nogitsune inside of your mind Stiles, being a trickster and fooling everyone. You made them believe you and out of nowhere, you stab them in their back! You were scared of yourself, saying you’re a monster. But let me tell you something, you may be a monster, a killer even, but I am the raging darkness that envelops you, makes you feel safe but pulls you down into your own living hell and then rips you apart.“ Her voice shakes faintly, the smirk vanished from her lips, eyes glowing full of anger. I want to take her in my arms and tell her that she is wrong, that she isn’t a bad person and I never wanted her to feel that way. Guilt slowly made its way into my heart.

“I don't kill people Stiles, I let them suffer, slowly, just like they made me bleed for their sins and faults.“

I lick my lips, wetting them but my mouth suddenly feels like a desert, totally dried out. My palms grow even more sweaty and I get the sudden urge to bite on my fingernails.

“Stiles, we both know that I am only in your imagination, a trick that you played on yourself, again and again. Deaton told you that the biggest mistake you made is going to haunt you. Scott is still fighting with the death of Allison, Derek still mourns over Jennifer and him falling for her act. And you Stiles, you have me.“

My eyes widen and I feel the blood draining from my face, making it look pale. I knew that she wasn’t real but hearing her say it just makes it more like reality to me. For one month I had those conversations with her and it always seemed so real, nevertheless I knew that she wasn’t. Y/N wouldn’t say those things to me, no matter how mad she was at me. The illusion of her always haunted me to the point I was afraid of the real one. I avoided her, even though I knew that I had to talk with her about it. About a lot of things. A talk was long overdue.

“But I am not your biggest mistake. This is not the reason why I am always constantly on your mind. There was nearly nothing in my life that felt right. But us. You and me. You can deny it all you want but We. Were. Right. And you know it. So, I am not your mistake. You walking away, out of my life, away from us, this has been all you could think of. This is why I am here, keeping you from letting go. We are fools! We run away from each other but we keep on ending up in the same hole again. So instead of getting out together, we try to crawl out on our own until there is nothing left but dirt on our hands and bones on the ground, blood smeared on our faces and pure darkness in our minds.”

Her voice died down and the silence occupied us again, like a blanket that was laid upon us. The air gets thicker and thicker. I struggle to breath. Her whole body was shaking, lips quivering and tears nearly streaming down her face. My own tears sting in my eyes, I’m trying to hold them back, trying to hold my feelings at bay. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t break the silence because I knew there was not a single reason our excuse that could defend my actions. Not even in front of an imagination of her.

“Why do you run away, Stiles? You always run away when it’s getting hard! What did I do to deserve this?“ Her voice was laced with desperation and all I want to do is fall down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. Seeing her in such a state, her hair disheveled, eyes puffy with tears streaming out of them, fists clenching so hard the nails nearly draw blood out, her whole form shaking and her face scrunching into a mask of hurt.

“I-I don’t-…“ I try, but I’m not able to form the simplest words. So I just shut my mouth and listen.

“You and me, we promised each other that we wouldn’t let go of each other and what did you do? Remember four weeks ago? You left me crying in the corner of my room in a mess of shattered glasses, my hands covered with scars. For what? Because your precious girlfriend snapped her fingers and you immediately ran to her side, leaving me in the dirt.“

“I didn’t know-“ I really wanted to explain my side to her but she cuts me off immediately.

“You didn’t know what?“ She asked through gritted teeth “You didn’t know that I was hurt? Didn’t know what I felt? You didn’t know how to handle everything? You didn’t know who to choose?!“

Her voice echoed through the empty library. Strained voice, full of agony and despair. She let her body drop onto the chair I sat on, like every ounce of energy she had was used and she had nothing left. I lick my lips and my right hand runs through my hair, eyes looking through the room, avoiding her form.

“I didn’t know that you felt that way, I thought that you were okay. I don’t know what blinded me that day and normally I catch on to things regarding you and you know that. I thought you were fine with everything and that you were good with me dating Tiffany.“ I glance at her, both her hands were covering her eyes, her head was laid back into her neck, form seemingly tensed. She sighed and pus her hands down again, her eyes fixed at the ceiling.

“You didn’t know how I felt… thought I was fine… Stiles, I am human. I have a heart and feelings and sometimes those feelings just seem to strangle me and I can’t put them into words. And I guess that you lack at catching up at things regarding me… no, you suck at it, Stiles. In the past you may have been good at it but for some time already, you just don’t get it like you don’t want to see my hurt. I mean four months ago… all you had to say to them was no. Just one word. But instead, you just looked away. You let them drag me down to hell… What should I do for you to notice? I screamed Stiles, I screamed for your help but you turned away. Should I tattoo it on my face? Should I write an application and wait for you to handle it?“ Her voice was nothing but a whisper, tears already ceased and her form not shaking anymore.

In this moment I felt useless, helpless. I didn’t know how to make this aching feeling go away. Her tears may have ceased but mine wear streaming down my face and I let myself drop with them to the ground on my knees. Faint sounds like sobs made their way to my ears. I needed a bit to process and realize that these were my sobs. I was a mess and it was my own fault.

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles… do you really think that you could save your relationship with her?“

My head coils up and my gaze meets an empty chair. My eyes search the room for her form but to no avail. My forehead scrunches and with slow movements I stand up again, legs still shaking a bit.

“You killed her.“

In a flash, I turn around and instantly I was shoved against the wall. I focus on the person grabbing me, an oh so familiar face looking at me. “Did you miss me Stiles?“ A wicked smile decorated the copied face of mine. I try to back away from the Nogitsune, escaping his grip but he is stronger than me. My mouth opened and I wanted to scream but something made my voice stuck in my throat, nearly choking me with it. His bloodshot eyes stare at me not giving me a chance to break away from him.

“She is dead and you killed her. Not physically, but mentally. You meant everything to her, you were the only one she really trusted and you just threw it away like it meant nothing to you. Maybe I’m not the real monster here. Maybe you are.“

He leans into me, his head directly next to mine and I feel his breath on my right ear. “I should be mad at you, but in some way I’m also proud of you. You don’t need me, you just fool the people around you by yourself. You make them wear their hearts on their sleeve, then you take the hearts and crush them, together with all the trust they’ve put into you.”

Like that, he vanishes from my mind, out of my life and with him, the illusion of Y/N. Everything that Y/N left was a dull ache in my head and heart. What remains are the memories of us being together and the feeling of desperately trying to hold on to those memories like they are my tether.

Now, here I stand. Alone and broken in the empty library, books and pages scattered all around me. A mess, just like me.

Y/N p.o.v.

Stiles never stopped talking and I never interrupted him. While he spoke, his eyes fixed on our hands lying next to each other. Through his story, he started to cry and his body began to shake. I also started to cry, a burning feeling flowing through my veins. Now more than ever, I want to take him in my arms and tell him that it was just an imagination.

But it was true. He noticed my feelings and distress less and less, even more after he got together with Tiffany.

It’s not like I don’t like her. Yes, she did bad things to me and helped her mother to keep me away from my family, but I can understand why she did it. She was just a daughter, like me. All I wanted was my father to come back to me, I wanted a family. And she thought that I was going to destroy her family by getting my father back. She wanted hers just like I wanted mine. In the end, he chose her. So, I’m not really mad at her. It was my father’s choice. Also, it was not her intention to fall in love with Stiles. She just did.

Oh, life has a cruel and sickening way of showing itself.

One moment you think it is on your side and in the next, it stabs you in your back.

While he talked I moved my hand over his and he instantly grabbed it with a force like I would fade away if he didn’t hold on to me. As he comes to an end, we both just stand there holding each others hand in the silence of the night, just our breathings could be heard.

“So… this was the reason why I started to avoid you and well… everything just seemed to slipped out of my hands. Like I had no real control over what I’m doing. I was a spectator of my own life, seeing someone totally unknown to me take control, playing me like a puppet. I know that is not an excuse, but I still wanted you to understand it, maybe just for a bit.“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He winced at my question, like I just yelled at him. But I didn’t. It was far from a yell, it was barely above a whisper.

“You could’ve told me. You could’ve come to me and tell me that you had those illusions of me. What did you think I would’ve done? Did you think I would’ve avoided you, left you alone with your fears? Even without telling me I knew something was wrong. I’ve tried Stiles, I’ve asked you so many times and you just brushed it off, saying you were fine. So instead of telling me the truth you thought that avoiding me would be the better plan?” I frown at him, truly confused by his actions. I mean sure, it isn’t that easy in the heat of the moment but when did I ever give him the impression that I would turn away from him? What on earth did he think?

He lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his fingers through his messy hair.

“I was scared, okay? The imagination of you just felt so real. And what she said. It wasn’t like it was not true. If she would’ve lied to me and would’ve told me ridiculous things that make no sense it would’ve been okay. But it was the truth. I knew that I messed up badly and even though I knew that you wouldn’t leave me alone, the one percent of my mind that told me otherwise just… it just overpowered the other ninety-nine percent.”

No tears were shed anymore, there were no more left. I get that he must have felt really restricted and I never wanted him to choose between her or me. Maybe because I think that would be stupid to put more pressure on him. Maybe because I was scared that he wouldn’t choose me.

So here we stand. We were both such a mess. But that is how it is. Life is a mess, love is a mess, we are a mess. Such a beautiful mess.

“I know that it was never your intention to hurt me, but you did.“ My voice was scratchy from all the crying. I gaze up into his eyes again and I catch him staring at me, his orbs looking defeated. “You not only hurt me, but in some way, you also made me feel like I deserved it. I thought that nine months were enough for me to let you go, yet seeing you with Tiffany again today made me fall back to the place I was at before. Like nine months of trying was ruined by one single moment.“ My voice was tired and I felt how this conversation has drained me. There was no emotion in my voice, like I was numb. But his eyes widen and a sudden glint of hope was shining in his eye.

“Me and Tiffany? We broke up two months ago.“ He said it so fast, he stumbled over his words. Now, it was my turn for my eyes to widen. They broke up? But…

“But you and her were kissing each other before, in the kitchen?“ I asked him, confused by this information. But now it made click in my head, like a light bulb appears over my head. This is why Lydia and Scott were looking like they were hiding something… they knew about the break up!

“Well, you see, I guess Tiffany saw it as a closure? In the two months apart, we didn’t talk to each other and I guess it was the moment where everything came flooding back? We broke up but it wasn’t like we never felt something. I do care about her, just not in a way she cares about me. She said that she just needed to know and after I pushed her away, she got her answer.“

I listened closely to what he said. So, they broke up… two months ago. Was it a sign? Was it our chance to be together? No that is not what I should ask myself.

Do I love him? Yes.

Would I do anything for him to be happy? Yes.

Am I ready to risk everything again? Yes.

Would I be able to get up again if it wouldn’t work? No.

Who can guarantee me that it would work this time? No one.

Do we try to force something that isn’t meant to be? Maybe.

I let out a sigh, and turn my gaze up to the sky again.

“And... what does it mean now?” I didn’t look at him but I could still feel his eyes on me. There is a moment of silence, then he takes a breath and says,

“You know what Tiffany said to me when we talked about our relationship, shortly before we broke up? She asked me if I ever fell in love, like the real kind of love and not the kindergarten crush. At first, I didn’t know what she talked about. I thought about Lydia and Malia. I loved them both, but it wasn’t the kind of love Tiffany asked about. Then, I thought deeper into it and a face was flashing in front of my eyes. I saw (y/h/l) (y/h/c) hair and sparkling (y/e/c) eyes.”

That took me off guard and I start to cough nearly choking at my own spit. I turn to him again and look him in the eye with my mouth slightly open from the shock. And I see the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. He waited for me to catch myself again before he continued.

“I didn’t need to say the name out loud. She already knew. She said that she knew from the beginning but she still wanted to risk it. In the end, it just didn’t work. She loved me more than I loved her. As I had those illusions of you, “you” once said that we were right. And yes, we were more than right. Every time I needed someone, you were there. The thought of you makes me smile and just seeing you makes my heart beat faster.

I know that I messed up a lot of things and maybe there is not a chance for me to make it right again, but at least I want to try. We won’t get back to how things were before but we don’t need to. We can build up something new.”

I really want to believe him. I really do. Every word he says, sounding so sweet and full of hope, making me long for more. But that is all it is, sweet talk. I don’t want to interrupt him, to be honest I never want him to stop. But this is all talking and nothing behind it. I bite on my lip trying to stop myself from ruining this moment, however, it doesn’t work.

“Stiles, no. Please. I want to believe you, everything you say. Yet, I’m not sure if I can. We went through a lot, Stiles. How can I be sure that it will work, this time?”

“You can’t. Y/N, you can never be sure of love. This won’t be easy. There will be ups but there will also be downs. There will be times when I let you down and when you let me down. Times when we will do something wrong, make the wrong decision or have problems communicating with each other. There are going to be moments when you have to forgive me and I have to forgive you, give each other another chance. I can’t promise you that this will work but I can promise you to give my best. I am willing to risk it because I love you. Now, it is your decision.”

I love you.

He loves me.

It was like a dream come true, hearing him finally say it again. I want to hold on to those words, never letting go of them. It was my decision. I feel like a giant stone is being lifted from my chest but at the same time it feels like an iron chain is winding around my heart making it heavy.

Say “Happy Birthday“ to you

Instead of speaking, I take a deep breath and a step forward, slowly leaning into him. He doesn’t seem to process my moves yet, but after one or two seconds he looks at me with a surprised look and smiles. Then my lips meet his. It wasn’t a kiss to devour each other. It was slow but full of passion, making the lost time melt away.

“Happy Birthday Mieczyslaw Stilinski. I love you.“ I gaze up at him seeing nothing but adoration and love shining in them.

“I love you too, Y/N.“

Then I let you go

My smile falters and I drop my look not being able to look him in the eyes right now. "B-But how many times can we give each other a chance before we break? I don’t know if I can handle another break up. I love you but sometimes love just isn't enough. I have to let you go. I finally need to break free from your spell, before this turns into a curse, before I regret it. And I don’t want to regret this, us.“

I let go of his hands and back away from him. I turn around, not daring to even glance at him. I know that if he would say anything I would stay, heck if I see his eyes now I would run back into his arms.

I can already feel the familiar feeling of loneliness occupying me again.

Tell me that you need me now

“N-No, don’t let go now, don’t give up on us please. What about our promise? I know, I made mistakes but give me a chance to redeem myself. You can’t go now… I need you.“ He stumbles over his words, voice cracking and merely above a whisper.

Cause in my dreams you’re still around

With a jerk I wake up, nearly falling out of my bed, legs tangling in the blanket, the feeling of drying tears on my face and I hear myself letting out a groan.

It was a dream.

No. No this can’t be. He said he needs me and I need to be with him. It all felt so real… Great, even my mind’s fooling me with him. A sigh escapes my mouth. I guess this is it, I really need to let him go and move on. I chuckle at this thought, because I know this will never happen.

I gaze around me and my eyes widen at the sight. Nearly no sun comes through the close curtains but I still recognize the room. I’m not at home in my own room, it’s Stiles’ room, Stiles Stilinski. With a fast motion, I turn my head around looking at the spot next to me.

There he is.

Stiles is sleeping with his right cheek pressed against his cushion with his mouth open and drooling. He was facing me, small snores coming out of him. When something totally unexpected happens the brain needs a bit to process the information, even if it is such a good surprise.

Only now I realize that his left arm was draped over my waist. At least it must have been the position it was in before I nearly fell out of the bed. Now, it was half on my waist and half on the mattress. My movements must have woken him up because his eyes begin to open slowly.

"Hey... what's up, Y/N?" His morning voice sounding rough and deep, making shivers run down my spine.

Instead of answering him, I only moved my hand to cup his left cheek. The warmth of his skin running through my hand, warming me.

“You... you are real, right?” I asked him, earning a chuckle. He took my right hand into his left, leads it to his mouth and kisses the back of my hand.

“I should ask you the same.” He smiles at me and I instantly feel the relief running through my veins.

“I will never understand the things you see in me that made you stay, that made you think that I deserve a chance. I will always wonder what made you believe that I was a risk worth taking.” He looks me deep in the eyes, his breath fanning against my face. His words put a smile on my face and it seems like we were never apart, like the past nine month didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

I throw myself at him, making him fall back on the mattress. My arms wrapped around his neck and my head buried in his chest.

“I love you Y/N.” I didn’t know that I could smile that much but hearing him saying those words made my heart flutter. I never knew I missed those words this much until he finally said them again. The feeling of blood rushing into my cheeks makes me bury my head even deeper into his chest. Only then I realize that he didn’t have a shirt on, which makes my cheeks even more red. He chuckles and I can feel it through the vibration of his chest.

“And I love you Stiles.” My voice muffled by his bare torso. As I look up, my eyes meet his honey eyes that shine like gold and a smile so bright that it seems to light up my world. What I feel right now isn’t just love, it’s something I can’t describe. But I know, I’m happy. And no matter what faces us in the future I know we will find our ways back home.

We just lie there, thinking about the future. We won’t get back to before but we can work on what is going to come. For the first time in my life, I have the courage to dream about tomorrow.

#stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #dylan o'brien x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinksi imagine #void stiles #fanfic #stiles x reader fanfiction

124 notes · View notes

everythingisoverrated · 6 years

Photo

Hello, Tumblr peeps! The Writer’s Appreciation Project continues! I’ll admit I’ve been slacking, but I got some cool projects I’m working on that kinda consumed me. Sorry! We’re six blogs away from completing our original list, but many others have been added, so I feel like this project will go on forever. Or at least until you (or me) are saturated with it.

Getting on with our list, the blog we’ll showcase today is Lee’s @winchasterdean , who needs to be slapped silly for saying she writes the shittiest fanfics, because boy, that could not be farther away from the truth.

Lee also has a Marvel blog, @sebsastianstan , with only two stories in it so far, but they are great. The Sebastian Stan one-shot should definitely become a series. It gave me How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days vibes and that’s never a bad thing.

I’ve said before that I’m not a huge fan of angst, because I’m a sensitive baby who takes things way too seriously, but I have to question that statement since all the writers I’ve presented here go heavy on the heartbreaking stuff. Lee is no exception. The angst is exceptional, it will leave you a sobbing mess if you’re not prepared for it.

“Twenty Weeks”, for example, was heartbreaking. It’s the sort of story that will make you stare at it for a couple of minutes, hoping there is a secret happy ending you’ve missed. I’d die to see a second part of this, an explanation, anything. But I’ll accept the angst and try to move on with my life. Lee is remarkably good at creating angst and leaving you heartbroken.

“One Saved Message” left us with a massive cliffhanger, which feeds my belief that she just wants to see the world burn. And I’d let her, probably.

While her one-shots are incredible, it’s her ongoing series, “Noise Complaints” that got me hooked. It’s so funny, enraging, thrilling, it’s very much like reading a great book, where you have to slow yourself down to enjoy it before it’s over. Jealous Dean is definitely a mood, and boy if it doesn’t push all my buttons. I love how confident the reader is, so sure of herself and not taking any shit from anyone. It’s great to see a well-built female character, one that does not exist to compliment to a male lead. She demands attention, and she gets it. If I’m being honest, I wish I had an ounce of her confidence.

I love how they challenge each other, and how the dynamics and interactions are fluid and organic, and never seem forced.

The last chapter Lee posted is amazing and I love how the characters are written here. The reader drives me wild half of the time, but I am dying to see where this leads and what will happen next. I hope Lee takes a break from all the angst because I need a happy ending. And also, screw Lisa!

I often see writers on Tumblr feeling unmotivated, discouraged and receiving way too many anon and non-anon asks demanding updates and more stories. It’s upsetting because I know that as readers, we want more content, but I also know that as a writer, it’s not that simple.

Great content and stories take time, and that can’t be rushed. It’s so important for writers to take care of themselves, especially if you are a writer that doesn’t earn their livelihood through writing. Also, people should never feel pressured to do anything, and that includes writing. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun, an escape from real life, and writers deserve to find joy in this universe too.

I don’t know Lee personally, and I don’t think I’ve ever even messaged her. My interactions with her are limited by my comments on her fics, and that’s been enough for me to know that Lee is a sensitive soul, a talented writer, and a lovely human. While taking care of herself, going to school and basically living, she finds the time to write and share her stories with us, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

Lee, you amazing writer you. Thank you so much for writing, for giving us your time and your words. Your stories are incredible, and I’m always looking forward to reading more of them. You’ll always have a fan and avid reader in me, and if you ever need it, an ear to listen to you. I appreciate you and all the effort that goes into creating these works. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next!

Love, Liv

SPN Masterlist https://winchasterdean.tumblr.com/post/162213461766/masterlist

Marvel Masterlist https://sebsastianstan.tumblr.com/post/171744085181/masterlist

Noise Complaints (series - ongoing) https://winchasterdean.tumblr.com/post/167392470866/noise-complaints-masterlist-summary-a

Twenty Weeks https://winchasterdean.tumblr.com/post/167926519941/twenty-weeks

One Saved Message https://winchasterdean.tumblr.com/post/164575631751/one-saved-message

#writers #writersappreciationmonth #writers appreciation project #everythingisoverrated #lee fics #winchasterdean #fic recs

6 notes · View notes

nailriddenbat · 7 years

Text

Mayfield | Series - Pt. I

Summary: Max Mayfield and Billy Hargrove aren’t the only new kids to step foot into Hawkins. Meet Y/N Mayfield, Max’s big sister, who’s here to make sure no one messes with her sister.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Mayfield!Reader (SLOW BURN)

Characters: Y/N Mayfield, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler, Susan Hargrove, Max Mayfield, Billy Hargrove

Warnings: Language, may contain sensitive topics such as substance abuse later on (I WILL GIVE A HEADS UP!)

Word Count: 973

Tags (PLEASE message me if you want to be added to the permanent tag list for any fic/tag list for this particular series, especially if you already asked and I forgot!): @thegirlwhoisintoomanyfandoms @la-fille-en-aiguilles @jj-writes-shit @thebitterbookeater @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @richletozler @royalwolfhard @just-smile-darling @w-ingardiumleviosa @buckysmaingirl @magic-and-timetravel @jupiter-leo @ttrraasshh @somekryptonitewriting @dudee-what @tmalchow @hedabucky @wallacetdog

A/N: Back at it again with another series. I may change the summary later on to include more detail, but I could not put much down without giving everything away. As always, please share your feedback and let me know what you think.

Indiana was very different from California. You sped down the highway in your jet black, 1972 Dodge Challenger which you had driven all the way here. It took you a while, and it took a shit load of your money, but your car held up and didn’t let you down for a single second.

Your mother had met up with some dude named Neill, resulting in a marriage and this move halfway across the country. You had put up a fight and despite not wanting to part with your sister, you made your own arrangements and stayed behind in California.

Life sucks, though, and you constantly get the short end of the stick, which is how you found yourself calling your mother up and begging her to take you in.

Now it was Halloween day and you were finally here, going way over the speed limit as Quiet Riot’s “Bang Your Head (Metal Health)” played loudly in your car. The windows were rolled down and you held onto the steering wheel as the wind whipped your hair around. You sang along to the song, desperate for some sort of distraction from your own thoughts.

In the far distance you could see three boys up ahead, riding their bicycles in the lane opposite of the one you were in. You slowed down, not wanting to knock one of them over, but you sat up straight and ripped the sunglasses off your face when you saw an all too familiar car behind them.

The 1979 Chevy Camaro was gaining speed rather than slowing down and you cursed under your breath. You lowered the music quickly and could hear the engine roar as the boys started to shout. Before you could register what was happening, the car swerved into your lane and you turned the wheel sharply to the right to avoid getting hit. Your car slammed into the bushes as you pressed down on the break, throwing the car into park before jumping out.

You stared at the car as it disappeared, overhearing one of the boys shout out, “Mad Max!”

You turned your head and rushed over to them, moving to help with their bicycles. “Are you kids okay?” you asked them as you handed them back.

They all nodded and the one with curly hair leaned forward, trying to catch his breath as he kept muttering, “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

You looked over at the boy who still had his eyes up ahead on the road and tapped his shoulder as you pointed in the direction, “You know that car?”

He shook his head and looked up at you, “Some girl from our school, I think.”

Your jaw tightened as you exhaled. Without another word you walked over to your car and got back in. You kept the music off as you backed the car up onto the road slowly before taking off, muttering underneath your breath, “I’m gonna fucking kill Hargrove.”

You slammed your car door as you parked it in front of the house. You saw no sight of Billy’s car and had to wonder what could have been taking him so long. You snatched your bags from the trunk and looked up just as you saw your mother open the door. She was clutching a towel to her chest and smiling over at you.

“Hi mom,” you said shortly. You leaned in to hug her and she held onto you for a moment, whispering that she was so happy to have you home.

You stepped in and looked around, trying not to show how miserable you were.

“So Neill said that it was okay to use his office as an extra bedroom for you,” she started to explain as she walked you through the house. “He’s going to use the basement instead.”

You grinned over at her but dropped the grin when she turned away. Neill Hargrove was nothing but a kiss ass and you didn’t find anything he did for you to be genuine. You didn’t care, though. You just wanted him to treat Max and your Mother well, which he seemed to do.

You dropped your bags to the bed when you reached your new room and sighed as your mother asked if you liked it. “It’s great Mom, really,” you lied. ”I’ll be sure to thank Neill when I see him.”

“Okay,” she smiled over at you. “He should be home soon. I’ve been expecting Maxine and Billy but they must have gotten held up. I’m not sure what Billy is doing for Halloween but Maxine is going trick or treating, and we’ll all sit down for dinner before everyone leaves.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you faked enthusiasm.

Before either of you could say anything else, the front door slammed open. The two of you rushed out of the room just in time for a body to collide with yours. You grunted and leaned down.

“You’re actually here!” Max shouted.

Your heart almost burst as you leaned down to hug your sister tight. Shit. You had only been separated for a short amount of time, but you didn’t realize how much you had missed her. “Told you that you’d see my face again,” you grinned down at her.

You picked your head up slowly when you heard the front door slam shut. Billy stood in front of it, his face twisted in anger.

“Hello Billy,” you greeted him with sarcasm as you smirked at him, holding onto your sister. “Have a safe drive back from school?”

He glared at you before he stalked off and in the distance, you heard another door slam shut. Your lips remained closed but you laughed shortly, satisfied with the fact that you ruined his entire day just by being there. “Come on,” you patted Max’s shoulder. “You can help me unpack.”

1K notes · View notes

mindingmyownbusiness · 6 years

Text

Slow Burn

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary - Could something as simple as a s’more bring you and Bucky closer together? Prompt - Toasted marshmallows Warnings - none, just 100% fluff Word Count - 3,021 Notes - For @promarvelfangirl 2k Fall Follower Challenge - congratulations on your milestone! I LOVE FALL so writing this fic was a real treat. (sorry this is like forever late, life man…) Special thanks to @sgtbxckybxrnes for her invaluable input on s’mores and to @bucky-plums-barnes for her fabulous Insta creation seen below.

My Masterlist

The sun was sinking low in the sky as your small caravan made its way towards a rustic cabin set far back from the main road near a small lake in upstate New York. With the world safe for the moment the resident Avengers had taken this opportunity to schedule some bonding time, away from the compound and the responsibilities that hung over everyone’s head while they were there. It was about time too. You knew that the team needed to have some normalcy, something to remind them that even though they were enhanced and highly skilled they were still human. Well, most of them anyway.

You may not have been the one to come up with the idea but you were the one who had been tasked with organizing the trip. Finding and securing the location was the hardest part, after that you just made sure to pack some fun activities and special snacks to make sure that everyone had a good time. Your leg was bouncing like crazy from where you sat in the passenger seat and you kept craning your neck to get a better look.

“Calm down, (Y/N),” Steve teased from the driver’s seat. “We’re almost there.”

“I can’t help it,” you whined, “I’m excited. And I want everything to be perfect for you guys. After all, you save the world on the regular, you deserve a few days away to relax.”

“So do you, you know,” you rolled your eyes as Steve went on, “I’m serious (Y/N), you might not be out there dodging bullets but you work just as hard as the rest of us. Promise me you’ll try to have some fun while we’re here?”

“Okaaaaay, dad…” Steve chuckled as you slumped in your seat, only to perk right back up when the cabin came into view. You breathed a sigh of relief, noting that it looked even more picturesque than it did online. Steve pulled into the driveway leaving plenty of room for Clint and Bruce to park behind you then put his new old VW Bug into park, smirking as he glanced in the rearview mirror.

“You got a picture of that, right?” Steve said, nodding toward the scene in the backseat.

“Are you kidding? Those two were on Snapchat the instant they started snoring.” You turned to take in the scene behind you, Bucky with his head thrown back, mouth open, while Sam is slumped over, drooling on the Winter Soldier’s shoulder. “It’s almost a shame to wake them up… almost.” You waggled your eyebrows at Steve before the both of you suddenly and simultaneously hopped out of the car and slammed both the driver and passenger doors at the same time.

You almost forgot how to breathe for how hard you were laughing at what happened next. After a fair amount of pushing, shoving, and cursing the two men unfolded themselves from the back of the Bug, red-faced and grumbling under their breath.

“You okay there, Buck?” You wiped away a tear or two as you caught your breath. Bucky, still fuming, was slicking his hair back and scowling in Sam’s direction. “Damn birdbrain, droolin’ all over me…”

“C’mon Buck, don’t be angry. We came here to have some fun, remember?” You laid a hand on his bicep which seemed to instantly defrost his icy demeanor and he returned your hopeful smile with a small one of his own. It always amazed you that you had this sort of effect on the stoic supersoldier. Maybe it was your determination to treat him no differently than the rest of the team, maybe it was the gift you had for bringing people out of their shells, heck maybe it was the copious amount of baked goods you created and had decided Bucky would have to be your official taste-tester for. Whatever it was it worked and had created a unique sort of bond between you and the brooding brunette.

Avenger after Avenger had climbed out of the vehicles and were in the process of grabbing their bags and taking in their surroundings. “This place looks amazing, (Y/N),” Wanda exclaimed from behind you, wrapping one arm around you in an affectionate hug.

“I mean, it’s not my chalet in Aspen but it’ll do-oof!” Tony winced as Pepper elbowed him in the side. “W-what I meant to say was that this looks like the perfect getaway. Just what we all needed. Fantastic!” Tony lowered his voice as he passed you with a sheepish smile, “Seriously, ya did good kid.”

You smile to yourself before getting everyone’s attention. “Alright guys, this is it! There’s a couple hours before it gets dark so you have some time to settle into your rooms before dinner. The weather is perfect so we’ll be having a bonfire down by the lake, just head down there whenever you start to get hungry. Oh, and the rooms aren’t labeled or anything so it’s every man for himself. Have fun!” You giggled watching Peter and Scott practically trip over each other to be the first ones into the cabin.

“Idiots,” Bucky shook his head in their direction and turned to find you struggling to open the trailer where you’d stashed all the supplies for the weekend. “Here doll, lemme help ya with that.” He had the door open in no time and began to help you unload.

“You should go on in, find yourself a good room before you end up stuck with Sam or something,” you said as he helped you carry crates of food down toward the beach.

“Nah, you know me, doesn’t really matter where I sleep. I won’t be getting much of it,” he said matter-of-factly. “What about you, doll? You planned all this, dontcha want a decent room?”

Setting your crate down on a picnic table you grinned and showed Bucky what was in your pocket. “Like you said, I planned all this. So naturally I made sure to tell the caretaker to lock up one of the best rooms just for me and forward me the key. It’s got a huge bed, a spectacular view, and its own bathroom.” Bucky chuckled as you pocketed the key again. “Listen Buckaroo, I may be nice but I’m not naive, I made sure to take care of me this weekend too.”

With Bucky’s help you had everything set up and ready in no time, including a large stack of wood for the bonfire. You parted ways as you entered the cabin, you heading directly to your room for a quick shower and Bucky assuring you that he could figure out the place on his own. Before you knew it it was time for the evening’s festivities to start.

There are certain moments in life that you wish you could cement forever in your memory. This, this was definitely one of them. You took in the scene, everyone gathered around the crackling fire, all you could see were smiling faces. Everyone looked so at ease, not a trace of tension or darkness on anyone’s face. Laughter filled the air as different members of the team told stories, reminiscing and sharing favorite memories.

You found your gaze continually returning to one face in particular. Bucky was always on your radar but tonight you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him. Steve had just said something that made Bucky throw his head back and crinkle his eyes and absolutely laugh out loud and you swore it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. It filled your heart and your soul and you never wanted to forget it. Ever.

“Take a picture, (Y/N), it’ll last longer.” Natasha’s low voice in your ear startled you but you quickly regained your composure, getting up and moving towards the food table. “So,” she said sidling up to you with a smirk, “how long has that been going on?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Nat.” You busied yourself by digging in the crates for the marshmallows, hoping that the shadows were doing a decent job of hiding the blush creeping over your features.

“Deny it all you want but I know what I saw.” She looked over at Bucky and then at you. “For what it’s worth, you’d be good for him. He needs someone who doesn’t see him through the filter of his past. That’s a rare thing, believe me.”

You chanced a look at Bucky again, smiling slightly as you saw him still having a great time with the rest of the team. Shaking your head to break yourself from the moment you returned to your task of gathering the rest of the ingredients to make s’mores. “It doesn’t matter anyway Nat, he’s an Avenger, a hero... and... and I’m just me. I should consider myself lucky just to be in his orbit.”

You could practically feel Nat’s glare boring into your skull. “Lucky? He’s the one who’d be lucky to have you.” She looked over at him again. “You know I could talk to him if you want--”

“No!” you said, your exclamation coming out louder and more panicked than you intended. You lowered your voice, a pleading look in your eyes, “Look Nat, just drop it, okay?” Grabbing the small crate you turned back towards the fire, a smile plastered on your face. “Who’s ready for s’mores?” you called out, thrilled to hear a chorus of cheers from your friends.

While some of them wasted no time getting started, others held back a bit. “I am unfamiliar with this Midgardian delicacy, (Y/N)” Thor picked up a marshmallow, eyeing it curiously. “What exactly is a suh-more?”

You giggled as Clint stepped up, plucking the marshmallow from Thor’s grasp and spearing it onto one of the roasting sticks you had picked up just for this occasion. “They’re called s’mores big guy, and you don’t know what you’ve been missing. I mean, you get to set something on fire and then eat it, what could be better? I do this all the time with my kids, they love it. C’mon..” Clint grabbed another stick and marshmallow for Thor and proceeded to show him how it’s done.

You scanned the scene, checking to make sure everyone had what they needed. Steve and Sam were already working on their second round, Tony was making faces as Pepper tried to get him to take a bite of hers, and Vision couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. He had completely blackened several marshmallows in a row as Wanda tried not to laugh. Natasha had politely declined claiming they were just too sweet for her. You continued looking around, realizing the one face you were missing was the one you wanted to see the most.

Finally a glint of metal drew your eye to his quiet figure, set back from the fire practically in the shadows. You slipped over, taking a seat beside him on the cool grass. “You seem to be missing something… not a fan of s’mores?”

“Wouldn’t know doll. I, ah, actually haven’t ever had one before.” He cleared his throat, “Not much of a chance for a treat like that when I was younger and well… the last few decades are sort of a blur so…” His voice trailed off, Bucky clearly doing his best to push back the dark thoughts of his past.

You placed your hand over his, pulling him back to the present. “Let’s see what we can do to change that, yeah?” You stood, tugging at Bucky’s hand, encouraging him to come with you. “I haven’t made myself one yet so we can share.”

“Share…?” Bucky looked slightly confused until you picked up one of the roasting sticks that had two prongs on the end.

“See? One for you and one for me.” You speared a couple of marshmallows and lowered the stick above the fire, slowly rotating it. “The trick is to not put it directly in the fire like some people.”

“I heard that (Y/N)!” Sam protested through a mouth of graham cracker. “Burnt and crispy in under five seconds is the way to go!”

Shaking your head you continued, “It takes longer but I like to hold it just above the flames, that way there’s plenty of heat to make it super gooey all the way through without destroying the taste by burning it.”

“So what you’re saying is you like a slow burn.” You jumped, Natasha appearing out of nowhere yet looking like she’d been there all along warming herself by the fire. You glared at her then turned your attention back towards what you were doing.

“Nothing wrong with taking my time Natasha, some things are worth the wait.”

“Like s’mores,” she said with a smirk.

Exasperated you blew a strand of hair out of your face. “Yes, Nat, like s’mores.”

“Mmm’kay (Y/N), can’t really disagree with that.” Nat walked away with a smile leaving you with a scowl on your face.

“Um, did I miss something...?” Bucky asked.

“What? Oh, no it’s just.. It’s nothing, really…” You turned the marshmallows one more time, quickly changing the subject. “Looks like they are about done…” You brought them over to Bucky to put them together. “Okay we need the graham cracker first, then the chocolate, and then…” You laid the marshmallows right on top, both of you using the other half of the crackers to slide the gooey goodness off the stick. “Perfect.” You smiled, walking with him back over to where you were sitting earlier so you could both enjoy your treats in peace.

“Ready?” You couldn’t help but grin giddily at this memorable moment.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, doll.” Glancing at each other you both went to take a bite of your s’mores at the same time.

S’mores had already been your favorite treat for practically your whole life, but to see the look on Bucky’s face and to hear the sigh of satisfaction that came when he got his first taste of one… you’d never be able to look at a s’more innocently ever again.

“Doll… this is amazing!” He quickly took another bite, almost finishing it off.

“And messy..” Laughing you reached out with your thumb to swipe a glob of melted chocolate and marshmallow from the corner of Bucky’s mouth then without thinking licked it clean. You froze, thumb still in your mouth, once you realized what you’d done. You quickly looked away, embarrassed, missing the look of shock and awe on Bucky’s face.

Awkward silences were the worst. You popped the rest of your s’more in your mouth while your brain scrambled for something to say, finally settling on pretending it didn’t happen and just moving forward. Then maybe moving to Switzerland. “Um I should.. yeah I should really start cleaning up or I’m gonna be out here all night.” You started to get up but felt Bucky reach out and take your hand to pull you back down.

“Wait, you’ve.. ah, you’ve got a little something right here..” His eyes flickered down to your lips as his thumb wiped your bottom lip clean, mirroring your previous actions by sucking the stray chocolate off his thumb. You were pretty sure you’d stopped breathing as Bucky looked back into your eyes, the two of you gradually gravitating towards each other. You closed your eyes as his nose brushed gently against yours. Your heart was pounding and everything else faded into the background as you became hyper-aware of what you hoped and wished and prayed for was about to happen.

“Doll..? I’d really like to kiss ya if that’s alright..” Bucky’s lips ghosted over yours as he uttered his quiet plea.

“I think I might die if you didn’t,” you responded breathlessly. You were instantly rewarded with Bucky’s lips pressing ever so gently against yours. A small sigh escaped you as you placed a hand on his chest, one of his hands cupping the back of your neck as he continued to kiss you sweetly for a long moment. You could feel him smiling into the kiss as he pulled back slightly.

“You were right doll, some things are worth the wait.” Grinning you leaned back in, happily initiating the kiss this time, teasing him with your tongue until he opened up to you and oh if he didn’t taste of chocolate and coffee and heaven on earth. You wanted to keep kissing him forever, and you probably would have if it weren’t for something soft hitting the back of your head. Several more soft thuds on your back and shoulders caused you to pull back and look around confused only to realize that the two of you were on the receiving end of a barrage of marshmallows being hurled at you by several of your friends. “What the hell…?” Bucky quickly moved to shield you from the onslaught. “Really guys? So mature.”

“We had to do it, you guys were about to scar Peter for life.” Scott mock scolded the two of you while tossing a few more marshmallows your way.

“Seriously you two,” Tony was using his dad voice, “get a room already.”

Bucky looked at you. You looked at Bucky. Grins broke out on both your faces as he hopped up and pulled you up with him. “I believe that can be arranged. Scott!” you called out in your most commanding voice, “You’re now officially on cleanup duty. See you guys in the morning!”

The two of you got out of there as fast as you could, not stopping until you reached your room. Stepping into the darkness you couldn’t take your eyes off the view through the huge picture window of the moon reflecting off the lake. “Oh Bucky, would you just look at that…”

Bucky stepped up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “It certainly is a gorgeous view... and the lake doesn’t look half bad either.”

You swatted his arm playfully as you turned to see him smiling down at you in the moonlight. “Now, where were we…?”

“Right about here…”

Just Some Tags: @dianelogan @bucky-plums-barnes @buckyywiththegoodhair @cate-lynne @avengerofyourheart @sebspocketsquare @sgtbxckybxrnes @bionic-buckyb @plumfondler @ms-potts-to-you @chaneltheavenger @imaginingbucky @sexonastickstan @angryschnauzer @witchymarvelspacecase @palaiasaurus64 @eyecandybarnes @the-observant-fangirl @trinityjadec @ballyhoobarnes @kjs-s

#my fic #bucky barnes x reader #s'mores #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel

283 notes · View notes