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onceupon · 3 years

Text

London Boy

summary: Y/n finds herself all the way across the pond, trying to escape OBX. But much to her surprise, a certain someone might get in the way.

pairing: Rafe x reader (just an intro in this part, we’ll get there dw)

warnings: swearing, drinking, some mentions of anxiety?

word count: 3.2k

a/n: if you’re a sucker for a slow burn like me, buckle up and enjoy the ride. I plan on this being multiple parts and this is also my first time posting so please be gentle with me lol :’-) (not canon Rafe)

You huffed as you dragged your extra large and definitely overweight luggage down to the pickup area at Heathrow airport. You had just landed in London where you’d be going to school until the holidays. You had decided to apply for, and actually got accepted into, your high school’s British exchange program. Every year Kildare Academy gave the option for 15 seniors to study for half the school year at Westheath Academy in London, a private boarding school, while 15 kids from their school came to yours. Normally, you wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving your friends and family for that long, not to mention missing out on half of senior year at home. But ever since the drama that erupted during the summer after your junior year that ended with you being shunned by your “friend group” (where they really ever your friends to begin with?), you practically jumped at the opportunity to get as far away from the Outer Banks as possible, albeit for a little while.

You didn’t know at all what to expect at Westheath, you had skipped the predeparture orientation at Kildare a few weeks ago, but you didn’t care - didn’t care who was going or what Westheath was like, all that mattered was that for the next few months you could finally breath. It was the clean slate you desperately needed, a chance to finally be around people and places you hadn’t known since birth. Sure there were going to be 14 other kids from Kildare there as well, but you had zero intentions of sticking with your OBX peers over the next few months. You weren’t going to let your small town suffocate you for a second longer if you could help it.

You double checked the license plate on your phone screen as the Uber you ordered pulled up.

“Y/N?” the driver called out from the front-right window (god that was going to take some getting used to.)

“Yep!” you smiled, huffing as you tried to pick up your luggage and step off the curb. Thankfully the uber driver was quick to your rescue, effortlessly lifting your suitcase into the trunk of the car. Leave it to you to overpack without even thinking to leave room for all of the clothes and souvenirs you were certain to accumulate - oh well, an excuse for a new suitcase you supposed.

Not in the mood for small talk, you were relieved that the Uber driver silently read your mind, playing a pop station as you both respectfully ignored each other’s presence. You anxiously tapped your thumb on your phone, eyes flicking between the screen where you watched your route progress and the view out your window of townhomes, pubs, and countless strangers passing by.

You hadn’t felt anxious about leaving for London the entire first half of junior year, so why was your stomach and head simultaneously churning now? You were so excited to experience a version of life that was the opposite of everything you were trying to get away from - a version of life that involved British accents, buzzing city life, and endless possibilities. But it was all of a sudden dawning on you how unfamiliar it all was. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, no matter how far you ran, you would never be able to fully separate yourself from OBX. That damned small beach-town would always be a part of you, an inextricable thread in the fabric of your life.

The Uber pulled up to a halt in front of your destination. You hesitantly glanced out your window as you double checked the silver number on the building. Yep, 25 Brampton Rd - you were here. The Uber driver graciously lifted your suitcase out of the trunk for you and as he pulled away you let out a long breath - your fresh start was waiting behind the doors in front of you.

You rang the doorbell to the lobby, the security here no joke. You were soon buzzed into the building and you shakily pulled your suitcase in behind you, desperately trying to calm your nerves to no avail.

“Hi,” you croaked out as you approached the man seated at the front desk. “I’m- uhh here to check in to my apartment- uh I mean flat… I think… I’m with the Kildare Academy exchange,” you rambled, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Despite your best efforts, your anxiety was taking over.

The man gave you a sympathetic smile. “Name please?”

“Y/n L/n,” you replied, pulling your lips into a sheepish straight-lined smile as you mindlessly tapped your fingers on the handle of your suit case.

“L/n, L/n, L/n,” the man quietly muttered under his breath as his pen traced over a list of names. “Ahh here you are. Alright Miss L/n, here is a fob, this lets you into the building, now this key lets you into your flat, you’ll be on the second floor - apartment 2C, and this key is for your individual room,” he began to fire off at you as he rounded the desk and came to grab your suitcase, beginning to walk as you hastily followed suit. “This packet will tell you everything you need to know about our building here - wifi, laundry, trash days,” he shoved some papers in your hand as you both entered the elevator, him pressing the button for the second floor.

You emerged on to your floor and a few steps later you two were at the door of your new home, which the man quickly unlocked gesturing for you to step inside. “And this, Miss L/n, is your flat for the next few months with us here at Westheath. Your room is the second right down the hall there and I believe you’re the first here. Two of your flatmates who are yet to check in are from Kildare, such as yourself, and the other two are students of our own here at Westheath. You know I’m surprised how early you are, classes don’t start until next week! But nevertheless I’ll let you get settled,” you stood staring blankly at your new surroundings, more or less registering the words this man was firing off at you.

“I’m Richard by the way, if you ever need anything you know where to find me,” the man extended his hand toward you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, accepting his handshake.

“Welcome to Westheath,” he smiled back and just as quickly was turning on his heel and back out the door before you could get in another word, leaving you in your new flat by yourself.

You slowly walked through the empty place, meandering through the kitchen and living area, down the hall, peaking into the bathroom, and then finding your way to your room. It certainly wasn’t the type of living arrangement you were used to back home - your family lived on Figure 8 in the Outer Banks meaning you had grown up surrounded by mansions and luxuries. This place was small, simple, and yet it was cozy and well… perfect. It was the exact opposite of your Figure 8 life and that alone was enough to make you love it. You smiled, content, as you sank on to your empty bed, taking in your new room. You had a nice sized desk, a decent shelf, and a wardrobe. Simple and sufficient. You could get used to this. The room was starkly barren, but since school wasn’t set to start for another week and no one was here yet you made a mental note to go on a little mission to find some plants and decorations to bring the white box that was your room a bit more to life.

——-

Three days had passed and still your other flat mates had yet to show. You were starting to wonder if they ever would or if you’d end up living in this flat all by yourself. Your room was now decorated, you had found some cute posters in a shop you had wandered into, some plants in another, and string lights in a third. You had acquainted yourself with the grocery store around the corner and the drug store down the street and you’d even gone on the tube all by yourself.

Being on your own these last few days had been decidedly therapeutic, leaving you unable to contain a cheesy grin every time it hit you that you were actually here, in London, far far away from OBX. But you couldn’t help feeling a little lonely, with a passing hello to Richard every time you left and returned to the building being your main source of human interaction these last few days.

You laid on your bed as you debated the decision you were about to make - you would’ve never dared to use Tinder back home. You knew virtually everyone on the island and would’ve been absolutely mortified to match with anybody there. But hey - you were in London baby! This was a fresh start and nothing was off limits. You sighed and gave in, downloading the app and quickly making a profile. You must’ve rearranged the order of your pictures at least a dozen times before you finally decided it was good enough. You started to swipe, an endless supply of British boys at your finger tips. You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at how funny the whole concept was, your inbox already flooding with cheesy pick up lines from your matches. You spent the next hour going back and forth with these boys, silly, meaningless, flirty conversations - god it was so much easier being a flirt through a screen, you would be positively flushed in the face in person, unless you were drunk of course (your drunk self was a dangerously confident flirt for sure).

Liam: are you free tonight? Down to grab a drink and chat?

Oh wow. Straight to the point wasn’t he. You knew the point of the app was to eventually get off it and meet up with someone, but now that you were met with the opportunity, your stomach was flipping upside down. Fuck it, what do you have to lose?

Y/n: yeah that sounds great, I’m in Hammersmith if you wanted to go somewhere there?

Liam: perfect so am I (: 8pm at The Ladle. See you there xx

Pure adrenaline coursed through your body as you started doing your hair and makeup, throwing clothes all around your small room to find the perfect outfit that was cute but simultaneously made it seem like you weren’t trying too hard. You threw your wallet and keys in your purse, chugged the glass of wine you had been casually sipping on by yourself, and quickly headed out the door before you could overthink it and change your mind.

——

You nervously approached the bar that Google Maps had directed to you, not sure what you were getting yourself into, but you had already walked all the way here so you’d be damned if you didn’t see it through.

“Y/n?” a voice called out to you. God, hearing your name in that accent sent shivers down your spine.

“Yeah that’s me, Liam?” you questioned back, staring up at the fluffy browned-hair boy approaching you.

“That’s me,” he winked, extending his arm out to you which you nervously grabbed, as he led you into The Ladle, spotting an empty table for the two of you.

“So Y/n, what are you doing here in London. Something tells me you’re not from here?”the boy across from you smiled as you two got settled in your seats.

“Hmmm I wonder what could’ve ever given it away,” you replied with a sarcastic smile, American accent in full force. “But I’m here for school, on an exchange at Westheath Academy.”

“Oh shit, that means we’ll see each other around. I’m finishing up my last year actually. And somehow you’re the first American I’ve had the pleasure of being on a date with,” he smiled with a devilish grin that felt like it was burning into you, you hoping the flush on your cheeks wasn’t too obvious with the dim lighting.

“Lucky me,” you smiled back, faking a sly confidence as best you could despite the fact that you were all nerves on the inside. Dating was not something you were familiar with, having maybe gone on two back home, if those even counted.

“First round on me, what are you drinking tonight Y/n?”

“Umm a vodka cran is fine,” you replied to which you were immediately met with a scoff.

“No way babe, you’re in a pub in England now. Should’ve figured as much coming from an American like you,” he chuckled with a shake of his head, his fluffy hair bouncing with it. “I’m getting you a pint,” he asserted, walking over to the bar and giving you a moment to breath and collect yourself. You hated beer but weren’t about to put up a fight, at this point you would down just about any alcohol in order to get some more liquid courage in your system.

He quickly returned, placing the tall glass of golden-colored liquid in front of you.

“Cheers, to new school mates,” he winked extending his glass up to yours.

“To new school mates,” you smiled back, bringing your glass to clink with his, taking a long swig and trying not to grimace at the taste of the liquid going down your throat.

——

The night passed by quickly, you and Liam going through three rounds of drinks as you both laughed and bantered with one another, your nerves all but dissipated by the alcohol now coursing through your bloodstream. Heck, the beer was even starting to taste… good? God you barely recognized yourself anymore, but in the best possible way. One by one you were letting the closely guarded walls you had built up over the years in OBX fall, and you were feeling better than ever before - you felt free.

You and Liam stumbled back arms linked to the building you found out you were both living in, Liam on the fourth floor. You rummaged for the fob in your purse and you both got on the elevator, Liam instinctively pressing both your floor numbers. The elevator dinged opening to your floor, Liam turning to you with a cheeky smile.

“See you around, Y/n,” he winked. Why did you find that so attractive, or maybe it’s just because you were slightly drunk.

“Goodnight Liam,” you smirked back, blowing him a kiss as you walked out the elevator, the doors closing behind you.

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as you unlocked your flat and stumbled into your room, immediately collapsing on your bed. London. It was definitely going to be an adventure.

——

You were woken up the next day by the sun peaking through your window. You yawned and let out a big stretch, still giddy from last night’s date. It’s not like you thought you had just met your soulmate or something, you both kept the evening light, mainly joking and flirting as you downed drinks. But god you couldn’t remember the last time you had that much fun or ended a night feeling so confident and carefree. You were embracing every ounce of the euphoria you were getting from your new life.

You slipped out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, still rubbing the morning crust out of your eyes. Just as you got a pot of coffee going, you heard the distinct sound of a key turning, startling you as you realized it was coming from outside of your flat’s door. You cursed at the fact that you were about to meet a new flatmate while in your flannel pajamas and messy bun hanging halfway off your head, but mainly you were excited to finally have some company.

“Dude it’s no Figure 8 living but fuck it I’ll live anywhere to not have my parents breathing down my neck these next few months,” you heard a voice say, now in the hallway of your flat.

You immediately freeze. That was a male voice, definitely a male. Of course it makes sense now that you think of it, everyone in the flat gets their own room so what does it matter if the flat is co-ed. The thought just hadn’t crossed your mind, you automatically assumed you’d be living with all girls.

“Yeah man, anywhere that’s 1,000 miles away from Ward sounds like the perfect place to me,” another male voice laughed in return. Ward? Ward Cameron? That couldn’t possibly be who the voice was referring to because that would mean you were living with- and before you could even finish your thought you were standing jaw slightly parted staring at Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton in front of you. Two of the most popular guys at school.

You weren’t really friends but your families knew each other so you inevitably saw one another at kook events every now and then. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated by them. You always told yourself you didn’t care about boys like Rafe and Topper or about fitting in with their crowd, yet you always became nervous in their presence. They were cool. They partied a lot, were athletes, and had girls tripping over them, which you couldn’t fault considering anyone with eyes could tell they were attractive, but you’d never have the confidence to be so bold with guys like that. Unless you were drunk of course. And unless you were the new confident and carefree version of yourself that you had been on your date last night with Liam.

“Yo Y/n, no fucking way, I didn’t know we’d get to live with girl,” Topper smiled at you with a teasing grin.

You were suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you look and how you weren’t wearing a bra under your thin pajama top.

“Uh hey w-what are you guys doing here,” you managed to choke out. That confident girl from last night had disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, leaving you now feeling winded in front of the two boys from your hometown. Why were you getting so flustered?

“Just on a little exchange program from Kildare, maybe you’ve heard of it,” teased Rafe sarcastically, a smile tugging at his lips, holding back a laugh at how caught off guard you looked.

“Yeah no yeah of course,” you stuttered, “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you two to want to sign up for it.”

That’s when you realized the obvious. Every year there was always a number of spots reserved on the exchange for athletes, and Rafe and Topper were two of Kildare’s star soccer players.

“What and get to miss an opportunity to play at Westheath and go to Premier League games all semester? No shot,�� laughed Topper.

“Maybe you should’ve gone to orientation after all, roomie,” joked Rafe as he picked up his bag following Topper down the hall to their rooms. Rafe Cameron noticed I didn’t go to orientation?

You let your face fall in your hands with a groan only audible to you. You quickly picked up your head and shook yourself off, pouring yourself a cup of coffee as you tried to ground yourself from your frazzled state. Looks like escaping OBX was going to be harder than you thought.

---

Part 2

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outerbanks rafe

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

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Songbird Shenanigans // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: The reader will routinely sneak away from her band/hotel to continue her tour shenanigans in parking garages. A way for the young star to return to the stupid years where the concert venue was a car and the mic was the steering wheel. As each city comes and goes with the tour, one thing never changes, driving to parking garages to scream songs at the top of your lungs.

Warnings: Swearing, Mamma Mia songs (oops), and fluff

Words: 4.0k (with lyrics included)

A/N: There’s something endearing about Charlie randomly going a stranger in a duet and dance without a care. This was loosely inspired by the chaotic live they did when Jeremy and Charlie stayed at Owen’s place. I loved Charlie’s tropical shirt giving Animal Crossing vibes.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

A moment you had desired for a while finally came around in Oklahoma City during the free day between the two concerts. The pure quiet away from the interviews, photoshoots and demanding life of a musician. Yet despite wanting this time, you definitely felt bored, which only meant one thing.

A new video for your followers as you had done since the beginning of your successful career. Back before, you had the prominent following you had; now you would travel singing in your car, and then one video got viral. That elevated your following until you had signed a record deal with your brand new agent.

A series was then born of driving at night to the parking lots and garages in the city you temporarily visited. You'd park and sing any suggested songs from a previous video for an hour to see if a fan could find you. It was a fun game you had developed.

Y/N Y/L/N: Another installment of Songbird Shenanigans. From 9pm to 10:30pm, I'll be somewhere in Oklahoma City. Come find me for the prize!

Your agent both hated and loved the series as it brought attention to your career and songs but also was a hazard during the tour. The risk of losing your voice made your agent nervous, but the positives outweigh the negatives.

"What song are you doing?" Maddie asked from her chair in your hotel suite with a ratty book in her hand. Her rich dark hair pulled up in a high bun with a few pieces of bangs pulled down to hang free.

You didn't know if you could do what you do if you didn't have Maddie by your side as your singing partner and chief stylist. Maddie also always knew without looking on social media when you had a new installment coming.

"My most requested video is Train Wreck by-"

"James Arthur." Maddie snickered with her grey eyes pinned to the page she was reading faithfully. The book had seen better days, but it was her absolute favourite one by far and one of the only physical books she had.

"Somehow forgot you had it on repeat for a week straight." You snorted, shoving a hat on your head for warmth. A plain black coat pulled over your arms that matched the warm boots you had chosen, "I'll send you my location."

Maddie waved on hand in response, having known the routine since you first started this fun series. It allowed you a bit of your old life when the concerts you performed was solely in your car with the steering wheel as the microphone.

Judy, your agent, was sitting in the lobby with her binder surrounding her when she looked with a sigh. Without a word, she tossed the keys to the rented car she knew you'd need, so in each city, she rented one. A smile of gratitude shared before you were out the door with your hood up.

"Be careful!" Judy exclaimed just as the sliding doors closed behind you, sending you out in the cold night.

Almost instantly, your cheeks turned a light pink in the cold winter air, even if the walk to the war was short. As requested, the car was a newer model but one that would blend in with other city cars. It made finding you harder, but the windows couldn't be tinted.

"Here's to hoping I get a place with good acoustics." You muttered, starting the hatchback vehicle. Despite the cold winter weather, the road conditions were surprisingly okay, but then again, you were from a small town. Roads were shit in general.

You didn't bother playing music as you used the drive to find a parking garage and warm up your throat. Your vocal coach would have your head if you didn't warm-up, and then Judy would kill you even more.

You lucked out in a parking garage to a building that seemed to be a renovated warehouse with insanely cool windows. The metal was a dark shamrock green with a multitude of small rectangular glass between the metal. The panes swung open upwards in a fascinating design.

"Perfect." You muttered, signalling to turn into the parking garage that was easily accessed and without any trespassing signs. It was desolate, with cars parked here and there in the stalls.

A bright orange Subaru definitely took the cake as the most 'flashy' vehicle among the more nondescript ones. Not that it caught your attention when you lowered your windows marginally while simultaneously clipping the phone onto the dash. Immediately you double-checked for any apparent signs to your location before declaring it safe; with a tap of your finger, your Instagram live began.

"Welcome to another part of our Songbird Shenanigans. This time I'm in Oklahoma City for a two-day concert. The most requested song is Train Wreck by James Arthur."

Laying in the silence

Waiting for the sirens

Signs, any signs I'm alive still

I don't wanna lose it

I'm not getting through this

Hey, should I pray? should I pray

A natural instinct of closing your eyes as you got more into the music occurred. Your voice belted into the garage beautifully. Tons of comments appeared in the insta live chat of both supportive and haters.

username3: I suggested this song!!!

username88: Your voice goes perfectly with the song.

The song came to an end quicker than you would have liked since it was definitely one of your favourites to sing.

Unchain the reactions, I'm not ready to die, not yet

Pull me out of the train wreck

Pull me out, pull me out, pull me out

No action was helped back from taking a swig of water from the reusable bottle you had brought along. Your eyes scoured the comments for more suggestions or things that stuck out.

"Why don't you include hints in the Songbirds?” You read out from the comment section with a smile barely held back, "Why would I? You all know that my windows are often down, and even the most unoriginal locations have tells. There's been a few people that have found me."

Username13: I think I know where you are (insert heart emoji)

↳Username63: username13 where?! How do you know?

↳Username13: jatp is streaming all day and the guys are in a car. Same background

Your eyes read the short but interesting conversation between the two different accounts on something called jatp? Whatever that was.

"Any other requests?" You asked, scrolling through the suggestions, "Sing something from jatp? I'm sorry, guys, but I have no clue what that is? Is it a movie? OH! It's a show. My bad."

The comment section was flooded, "Okay! Let me look up the lyrics and the melody!"

Three males: a blonde and two brunettes, walked between the rows of both occupied and unoccupied parking spots. The blonde wearing a black t-shirt with BEANS written across the chest and the brunette with short slicked-back hair crowded the middle guy. All three pairs of eyes watched the iPhone stream the television series.

"I call shotgun!" Owen spoke as the car in question came into view, "We gotta Livestream in the car again!"

"Your neighbour sucks, man." Charlie groaned, nudging Jeremy to unlock the car when the older man hesitated.

"If we're going live in the car, we should cover your license plate," Jeremy suggested to a resounding agreement.

Charlie drove an obscenely vibrant coloured car that could be picked out quickly, so he didn't need any help in broadcasting his location. Owen grabbed the book from the passenger seat to angle it to lean against the plate.

"Done!" Owen called, racing back to climb into the car with his friends. The blonde-haired man bounced in his seat as the owner of the vehicle set up the screen.

In seconds, the streaming went from the app on the phone to the car's built-in screen to the boys' delight. In a moment of what some may call brilliance and others stupidity Owen went live on Instagram with Charlie joining him swiftly.

"Do you rem-"

Username76: Songbird chose a shitty location.

↳Username 39: Or we just got a Hail Mary hint

"Who is Songbird?" Charlie questioned, leaning closer to his friends in the front, catching a few comments.

The comments were mixed among other unrelated ones, but all had Songbird, Shenanigans or both words. The mystery was so intriguing the boys turned down the show to scour the comments for tidbits.

"Wait? Do you hear that?" Jeremy questioned, scanning the parking garage with his blue, green eyes. Soon his head was sticking out the window, "Someone is singing here."

Jeremy's hand turned the key of the car, "Is that-"

"Oh, no." Owen groaned, seeing that specific light appear in Charlie's eyes just as it did each time one of the songs came on. His pink beanie slid around his long blonde locks.

The two guys watched as the second oldest in their group did some kind of shimmy after pushing his phone to Jeremy. Jeremy's hand scrambled to get a grip on the phone as Charlie delved into his love for these songs. Sharing a look, Jeremy and Owen followed the Canadian to a car with a girl singing in the open hatchback car.

(Italics is you! Italics and bold is Charlie and you! Just bold is Charlie!)

When you were lonely, you needed a man.

Someone to lean on, well I understand

It's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Your eyes remained shut as you neared the middle of the first verse. You completely stopped when a voice joined. Your e/c eyes met the twinkling brown of a handsome guy with the best voice you'd heard in a long time.

Nights can be empty, and nights can be cold

So you were looking for someone to hold

That's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Your lips parted in a grin as you grabbed the hand being offered to be pulled out of the car; on your way, your hand nudged your phone. Your phone was in a mount attached to the roof of the hatch. When you followed the stranger, the phone turned in perfect view. Your free hand turned to hover over your forehead, legs bending to feign a swoon.

I was so lonesome, I was blue

I couldn't help it, it had to be you and I

Always thought you knew the reason why

Charlie beamed playing being shot by the arrow you pretended to shoot with a grin planted on your own lips. Charlie's hand flirted with your hip as you sashayed around his body from his left to his right. Hand grabbing a first full of his white with light teal with light pink design to tug him chest to chest.

I only wanted a little love affair

Now I can see you are beginning to care

But baby, believe me

It's better to forget me

In turn, Charlie grabbed your wrist to twirl you into his arms straight into an impressive dip with the toe of your shoe pointed to the far wall. Your fingers just barely caressing the rough paved lot.

"I'm Charlie," Charlie murmured during the instrumental between the chorus and the second verse. Your eyes scanned his features with an expression you would later be glad was hidden from the lighting in the garage.

"Y/N." You breathed, clutching his shoulders still low in the dip, hoping subconsciously that your breath was still fresh.

"Wanna finish this?" Charlie spoke, searching your eyes with his own; up close, you could see his eyes were a mixture of colours. You only nodded before he continued singing to the music.

Men are the toys in the game that you play

When you get tired, you throw them away

That's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

"Are you seeing this?" Jeremy whispered to Owen as they watched Charlie literally sweep a stranger off her feet. Owen could only nod as Charlie went into the next verse, still dancing as if he was in Mamma Mia 2.

Falling in love with a woman like you

Happens so quickly, there's nothing to do

It's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Charlie spun you back away from his body in a graceful twirl your choreographer would be incredibly proud of. The moves you made somehow made sense, with the movements matching the spontaneous duet-er.

I was so lonesome, I was blue

I couldn't help it, it had to be you and I

Always thought you knew the reason why

Once more in his arms dancing, he dipped you once more as you finished the end of the last chorus breathing heavily. The two strangers staring intensely into each other's eyes with an intense look that had tensions in the parking garage.

I only wanted a little love affair

Now I can see you are beginning to care

But baby, believe me

It's better to forget me

"Intense." Owen chuckled as Charlie raised you back onto your feet with a matching grin to yours, "Oh! Look at the comments!"

Username24: Holy shit! They ooze chemistry!!

↳Username9: lol, okay Alex.

"You aren't a viewer, are you?" You breathlessly laughed, taking a step away from Charlie as the music faded away.

The equally breathless spontaneous performing partner laughed as well, "I heard the song and hoped for the best."

"Are you Songbird?" Came a voice from a few feet away. Behind the once upon a time stranger stood two males approaching slowly.

"Oh!" You gasped, turning on your heel to see where your phone was pointing, "Well, that's convenient! One moment."

Jeremy and Owen flanked Charlie as you repositioned the phone at the moment with practised precision. You kept the three people out of the shot for privacy reasons.

"There is about ten minutes away from the end of this installment being over. For the first time since we started this series, I had a duet." You playfully laughed, looking over at the trio, "It's completely up to my sudden partner, but would you like to meet your audience?"

Charlie simply shrugged, "Sure. They've seen you be serenaded by a stranger."

A short laugh came from the three individuals around Charlie as he moved into the camera frame with a large smile. As soon as he was in sight, the comment section went nuts, furthering when Owen and Jeremy came into view.

Username1: DREAM COME TRUE

↳Username4: omg jatp in Songbird Shenanigans?? Life accomplished.

You couldn't hold back the snort at the comments you could read quickly as they disappeared after new ones. The three guys couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"I've never seen these guys before. If you could introduce yourselves." You asked the three guests, to which each sent a reassuring smile to your hesitance.

"I'm Charlie Gillespie, and these are my friends Owen Joyner and Jeremy Shada." Charlie took the liberty of introducing both his friends and himself. His heart fluttered at the adorable smile that had appeared on your pretty face.

"I'm afraid this concludes this edition of Songbird." You apologized to the camera as the time passed the allotted hour and a half. The comments turned sad before most of them started sending questions, "I'll let you know when I do another edition! Bye for now!"

Your finger clicked the end button firstly before clicking the save button for when you would upload it to your account later.

"Thank you for doing that. I'm Y/N." You chuckled, shaking hands with Jeremy and Owen, who each grinned back, "So what brought you guys to the parking garage with three phones and a live-action Animal Crossing shirt?"

Amusement was found on all four young adults in the parking garage, pinning a gaze at the material. You had to admit you kinda adored the shirt, or maybe the person wearing it was the reason.

"We're trying to get Julie and the Phantoms to number one again." Owen offered as he displayed the live still going on his phone.

"That's a tv series. That was the second song I did on the live before Charlie joined the little concert." You told the boys all the while aware that thousands of people watched from the phone still streaming.

"The phone's about to die." Owen piped up, catching the single decimal number broadcasting the percentage. Without any prompting, he ended the live to save it solely for the little performance Charlie did.

"Did you save it?" Jeremy asked, lifting on his tiptoes to check the phone Owen had commanded for the last half hour. Like Owen, Jeremy wanted to save it solely for the stellar performance.

"So, how'd this series start?" Charlie questioned, pushing his hands into his pockets, ignoring the subtle glances of his best friend.

"I needed an escape from touring so many cities. It's reminiscent of the days before I was discovered. When my audience was the dials in my car and my family." You half-smiled, recalling all the times you had simply driven around to sing.

"You're a musician?"

"I am. I'm currently on tour for my second album. Every second or third city I'm performing in, I take the rented car to parking lots or garages to sing. I always have a prize for the fans that find me."

"Could I get your number?" Charlie hesitantly questioned. His features twisting with the manipulation of nerves.

His palms had gone clammy enough to inconspicuously wipe them on his legs; this version of Charlie was unfamiliar. Owen and Jeremy had only ever seen him as this bundle of joy and energy, not to say he didn't have his low days, instead of nervous. Owen slipped his fingers behind his back to cross them. He hoped his Canadian friend would get it.

"You don't leak mine, and I won't leak yours." Your e/c eyes twinkled with the brush of Charlie's warm fingers on your own. The new contact waiting for his information, "Maybe we can meet up with each other?"

"I'd love that."

Madison Square Garden, New York City, New York, Unspecified Date

The sounds of screams and heavy instruments blocked by the unique in-ears explicitly made for your ears alone. You'd heaved, catching a breath after such an energetic song you'd just performed for the sold-out venue. You just jogged to the side for a chug of water as your band switched instruments.

"Are you having fun tonight!" You asked the crowd who had fought tooth and nail for tickets. The crowd screamed back louder than before.

Selling out MSG for completely insane even after touring the country with your band three times. It was still a little jarring, going from a nobody with untapped potential to selling out concerts and very successful albums, in all honesty.

"That's what I like to hear!" You beamed, pushing a strand of your unruly hair away from your face. Your eyes momentarily cast to the side stage with the equipment hiding the crew, "I have a surprise for you. A couple years ago, I had a spontaneous duet partner during one of Songbird Shenanigans. I'd like to invite my fiance Charlie out here."

The crowd went nuts as Charlie wandered towards you from the side of the stage away from Owen, Jeremy and Madison. Charlie's hazel eyes scoured the oceans of your e/c eyes he got to wake up to each morning. Mostly when Julie and the Phantoms had been offered to open for you; to be frank, it was more of an unspoken co-headlining.

"Can we tell?" You asked, keeping the mic covered and away from your body. Your body bounced, waiting for the smile from him.

Charlie nodded, accepting the guitar from one of the crew members. It was a song you had written a few months back. Charlie had memorized the entire piece with the deep adoration he felt for it.

The couple perched on the bar stools brought to the middle of the stage with a secret smile. One that only they and their immediate family understood.

Three months ago, you had sat Charlie down in your home to play him a little song that changed everything.

Charlie placed the last bag of groceries on the counter when he felt arms wrap around his midsection. He immediately knew that it was you welcoming him home from a very short trip to the store. In a swift move, he had manoeuvred you to sit on the counter while he scooched himself between your legs.

"Hi." Charlie breathed, rising to press a kiss against the smooth skin of your cheek, leaving heat in its wake.

"I want your opinion on a song." You burst out, unable to refrain from showing him a song you had been secretly working on. The French Canadian was beyond intrigued by the sudden announcement from his fiance.

"Oh?"

"Come." You coaxed the man from the kitchen to the designated music room filled with instruments of all kinds—even a recent addition of a recording booth in the corner with high-end equipment.

You bypassed everything for the grand piano you didn't play as often as you wished to be able to. Your fingers brushed the ivory keys for a mere second before you began playing the melody.

I, I have known love before

I thought it would no more

Take on a new direction

Still, strange as it seems to be

It's truly new to me

That affection

The smile that grew across Charlie's expressive face was uncapturable from the best of the best; he adored your voice. He had a personal ringtone you had explicitly done for him a few months into the relationship.

I, I don't know what you do

You make me think that you

Will change my life forever

I, I'll always want you near

Give up on you, my dear

I will never

You thrill me, you delight me

You please me, you excite me

You're all that

I've been yearning for

I love you, I adore you

I lay my life before you

I only want you more and more

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

I've been waiting for you

Charlie's frown, however, faltered as your face ever so slightly paled with trepidation coating your pretty irises. Your voice even quivered with nerves he'd never heard before, but it made sense from the third verse started.

I'll carry you all the way

And you will choose the day

When you're prepared to greet me

I'll be a good mum, I swear

You'll see how much I care

When you meet me

You finished the song with the last note drawn out ever so softly, freezing as the room went quiet once more. This song was definitely vulnerable and personal; you felt naked under Charlie's silent stare.

"You're really?" Charlie breathlessly chuckled, his wide eyes screaming disbelief.

After a few years together with an engagement ring on both of your fingers after you had both proposed to each other, with the relationship very serious, you two had decided to stop contraceptives and let everyone happen if it was too happen.

"Yeah." You laughed as he swept you off the bench into his arms, "We have little Birdie to prepare for."

"I love you so damn much." Charlie choked out, spinning the two of you around in his arms. The smile never fading as he drank in the special moment of learning you had created a life together.

PRESENT

"With the impending arrival of our child, I will be taking a break to prepare. Even though I wouldn't be performing, I will still do Songbird Shenanigans. I'll just have to up my game on staying as hidden as possible." You informed the audience as the song came to an end.

Next thing you knew, you couldn't discern between the crowd and your friends now on stage screaming. You were able to feel Charlie's hand on your barely-there baby bump and his lips pressed against your temple.

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #jatp fanfic #luke patterson imagines #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagine #caitsy and ash productions

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volleychumps · 4 years

Note

Heyy!! 💙 Selena here! Would It be posible yo request a scenario, please? So its a normal day at school and suddenly the reader overhear a conversation of her current boyfriend with one of his friends in which he confesses that he's just dating the reader to win a bet of 1.000 yens? Completely crushed she doesn't know how to react but she was not the only one accidentally listening.Noya who has a huge Crush on reader was also there... ¿ What would he do now? Nsfw included please! Enjoy!

It would be possible!! This turned out really fluffy instead of nsfw content just because I like to have a build-up of things, I hope that’s alright<3 🥺

And my inbox has been flooded with need for more Noya so🥰

On the Line. (Nishinoya Yu x Reader)

----------------------------------------------------------------

“Noya, you’re drooling again.”

The libero wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting a glare at a grinning Ennoshita, who casted a glance at your laughing figure a few seats away as his grin widens. Before Nishinoya Yu could completely deny that assumption, he stills in his seat when your eyes flit over to his brown ones, your lips stretching out in a warm smile as you offer a timid wave.

God, why did you have to smile like that?

Blinking out of a trance, the libero turns away from your direction abruptly as Ennoshita continues to sip his box of strawberry juice, somewhat used to his friend’s odd behavior when it came to you as the second year hums, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Considering the amount of girls you’re known to fawn over-”

“excUSE ME-”

“Y/N’s been kind of a long term thing, no?” Ennoshita questions casually, flipping a page in his manga he had open throughout the lunch period as Noya goes to defend himself- only to open his mouth and shut it again quickly, for he had no defense to that statement.

“Don’t kid yourself, Y/N’s just a close friend.” Noya chuckles somewhat forcibly as Ennoshita’s eyes lift from his page to arch a challenging brow. “Besides-”

Brown eyes soften, voice cracking a tad bit as he watches your boyfriend poke his head into the classroom door as a smile- a smile that wasn’t for him- brightens your features more than when you looked at him did.

“Close friends shouldn’t cross lines when they’re obviously drawn.” Noya finishes, and Ennoshita’s eyes fall back down to his manga, his wrist flicking to throw the empty juice carton at his friend’s head as Noya catches it with a glare.

“Stick with drooling over Kiyoko- you’re scarier when you say serious stuff.”

“I’ll have you know- wait, scarier?”

“Dude, have you met yourself?”

Before a snarky retort can be made about Ennoshita’s lack of empathy, Noya quiets down to realize you were no longer in the classroom, and Ennoshita had successfully distracted the libero from watching you leave with your boyfriend.

“I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you.”

“The former would be great, thanks.”

--------------------------------------------------------

“uGH practice is such a pain.” Noya whines as Tanaka whistles lowly in agreement from next to him, the iconic duo feeling lucky practice was delayed for the day due to Ukai’s tardiness, the coach getting held back by a prior engagement.

“I’ll meet you in the gym later?” Tanaka questions after Noya had released a groan after the realization that his notebook had been left behind- a notebook that held at least a dozen late homework assignments that needed to be in by tomorrow.

“Yeah, man- Tell Daddy Dai I’ll be there in a few.”

“Still can’t believe he lets you call him that.”

“Oh he doesn’t- on second thought he does. Tanaka, if you love me you’ll call him that when you see him.”

“Who the hell loves you?” His best friend sneers as Noya puts up a peace sign accompanied by a wide grin as he walks off, his smile lessening when his back turns again to his lonely trek in the mostly empty hallways of Karasuno.

Yeah, who would?

Before he can stifle it, your face popped up into his mind along with a tug at his heartstrings as Noya continues his slow walk back to his classroom, a glazed look taking over his eyes as he wonders if you made it home safely with that asshat of a boyfriend-

Until he saw it.

Noya pauses mid-step, the glazed look being blinked away as he saw you standing outside a classroom that wasn’t yours, the door open slightly ajar as your hair skewed the image of your face. An excited smile spreads on the libero’s face at the thought of an unexpected conservation with you, his pace picking up until he sees something that made his breath hitch in his throat as he stands two steps away from you.

Your eyes were brimmed with unshed, shining tears that seemed to threaten to spill over at any moment, and before Noya can ask you why on instinct, you had grabbed his arm in a tight grip, putting a weak finger to your lips as you signal him to stay quiet.

With furrowed brows, the libero complies, leaning against the wall next to you as he remains focused on your grip on his arm, an involuntary blush rising to his cheeks at the situation at hand-

but it didn’t last very long.

Noya’s ears perk up at the sound of a very familiar voice- a voice that he dreaded hearing call your name every day during break times.

“...yeah, man- I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He felt your grip seem to loosen on his arm.

“With Y/N? Dude, I don’t know why you would go so far for 1000 yen-”

He watched a painful expression cross your face as your eyes widened in absolute disbelief.

“Right? I thought it would be easy, but she looks at me like I’m the best thing to ever happen to her, what would you do in my situation?”

But the instigating factor?

“Dump her. You agreed because she seemed cute and easy, right?”

When the tears tipped over the eyes he loved, his vision turned into a blurry fit of rage, shoving off the wall before ripping his arm from your grasp as you attempt to keep him next to you. Noya stops for a second when your hand reaches out to grab at the back of his shirt material, your reddened eyes widening when the libero smiles a closed-eye grin at you, mouthing the words you needed to hear most.

It’ll be okay. I’ll be back.

“1000 yen richer, I guess. Anyways, I wonder where that airhead-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a fist collided with his cheek, Nishinoya seething so angrily he hardly spared a glance at the friend that made a dash for the exit at the arrival of the school’s known-troublemaker.

All those days watching you be with him. A hidden part wishing he was him. The convincing of himself that he was happy you were happy-

Noya’s eyes mimicked the ones in which he was on the court, eyes spinning dangerously serious as brown eyes narrowed, a fist grabbing at your boyfriend’s collar from where he now laid with a slightly cracked lip.

When this was how things were all along?

“What the hell are you doing?!”

A humorless chuckle. “What does it look like? A fucking tea party?”

When his fist reels back again, he stops when he feels a hand rest gently on the back of his elbow, Noya just knowing from the touch that it was you as his tense muscles relax almost immediately.

“N-Noya...”

At the sound of your cracked, stuttering voice, the libero releases a heavy sigh, releasing your now ex-boyfriend’s shirt so that at least his head hits the classroom floor as Noya stands protectively in front of you.

“Bastard...you think you’ll get away with something like this?” Your ex seems to chuckle a tad deliriously as Noya ignores him, shuffling through his pockets before dropping a few crumpled bills at his feet, your ex finally taking notice of you with widened eyes.

“I don’t care. I just get suspended again, but you?” Noya sneers, kicking the bills towards what he had always considered not good enough for you. “You fucked with the wrong person, asshole. Here’s 4300 yen (about 40 USD), whatever shitty bet you had going on is off, don’t even look her way anymore. Not like you deserved it in the first place anyway.”

With that, Noya spun on his heel to grab your hand hastily, adrenaline running through his veins before he feels you freeze at the sound of his voice.

“Y-Y/N, baby please-”

“I don’t know if he didn’t make it clear enough,” You glance at him once more, etching the image into your mind before mentally discarding it. “But we’re through. If there was any we to begin with.”

Noya’s brows reach towards his airline before he releases a low whistle at you’re words, surprised when you’re the one to lead him out of the class, stopping only when you reach the exit of the school.

“Y/N-”

“Have anywhere I can maybe, I don’t know, cry?”

Noya’s eyes widen as a million thoughts flit through his head as he takes a chance. Slowly, he turns your figure so you’re facing him fully, gently prying the hands that covered the features you now deemed ugly away before tucking your face into his chest-

the libero determined to make you feel as beautiful as he saw you as, feeling the sobs wreck through your body as your hands tightened at the shirt material on his chest.

Looks like he’ll be missing practice today.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“You didn’t have to go that far.”

You smile a little at Noya’s look of seriously? from his place in the kitchen, causing you to giggle a little from underneath the blanket he had given you as you relaxed a bit more into his couch. The smile dwindles as you wonder how you had gotten here, puffy-eyed and broken-hearted in the house of someone you deemed as a close friend-

but why had your heart beat picked up when his back was to you in that classroom as he faced your ex? Why did that smile he casted to you before rushing in to defend your dignity make you loosen your grip on his shirt as a newfound feeling emerged in your stomach?

Had he always been there? Just in that little pocket in the back of your mind, waiting to be seen, as someone simply stood in front of him?

“I left my homework at school for you. I’m expecting my payment in m&ms.”

You shake your head of those thoughts just as Noya sets down a steaming mug of hot tea in front of you, and your eyes widen before you subconsiously raise a hand to his hair, retort falling silent.

Noya blushes, eyes narrowing at the small giggle that slips your lips as he occupies the couch seat next to you. “What?”

“Your hair’s not being held up by like, three different products of hair gel.” You observe, genuinely interested in his soft locks as the heat in the libero’s cheeks deepen before he scoffs.

“Two actually, imagine being uneducated.”

“Imagine assaulting someone because of a childish bet.”

“It was self-defense.”

“In what way?” You find yourself laughing as Noya turns fully towards you, a lopsided grin on his lips that had your laugh dying down at the pounding in your chest.

“You’re pretty when you laugh.”

Embarrassed, you retract your hand from his hair hastily before picking up the mug and taking a deep sip, flinching at the heat as Noya calms his nerves at the girl he’s been in love with acting so cute next to him.

The mug hits the table gently as you set it down, a far-off look in your eyes as Noya takes his share of the blanket, wondering if you were uncomfortable with the proximity before you relax into his side, your head leaning on his shoulder.

“I have to wonder...if all I was had been a game all along.”

“Apparently the no sad talk rule I put in place before we entered my domain was ignored, and it shows.”

You go to swat him playfully before Noya catches your wrist, brown eyes soft and looking at you as if he were afraid you would break at any moment.

“Y/N, you’re literally the prettiest, nicest girl in the grade- it’s not your fault you decided to make the worst possible choice.”

A pink dusts across your cheeks at the compliments before you pout. “But it kinda is.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh into your mug, not realizing Noya had been watching you with a gaze you were used to catching in the middle of breaks or class. “And who would be a better choice?”

“Are you joking?”

You blink at the deadpan of Noya’s voice before he scoffs as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Ennoshita. Are you dumb?”

“I was thinking more you, but yeah I could totally-”

The couch is soft against your back as the blanket drapes over Noya’s back as you find yourself sandwiched between him and the couch, his hands placed firmly next to your head to support himself as he keeps his weight off of you. Your eyes trace over his features as his brown eyes seem to seriously stare into yours, your faces inches apart.

“You can’t take it back.”

You melt into the feel of his lips upon yours, smiling into it as something in you just feels so right in this moment, pushing him back a little as soon as his hand trails down to your waist.

“Noya, I just got out of the worst day of my life-”

“Then I’ll make every day better than the last.”

“It’s not too soon?” You ask worriedly as Noya digs his face into your neck, and you blush when his lips move against your neck.

“Nothing’s too soon when I’ve been waiting this long, babe.”

Noya smirks when your skin seems to heat under his touch, feeling you squirm when his hands move to rest on your waist gently as he peppers your neck in kisses.

“How long have you been waiting?” You pout, pulling Noya out of your neck as the libero scoffs, his lips moving to trace up your jawline before making his way across your cheek sweetly, stopping only when his lips hover over yours.

“Too long, apparently.”

“C-Can I kiss you?”

Rolling his eyes, Noya cups your face gently as his thumb traces your cheek, speaking against your lips as he feels your lips curl upwards into it.

“I don’t know if I have to make this clear- but you don’t have to ask your boyfriend for permission, babe.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu karasuno #karasuno #nishinoya #nishinoya x reader #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya yu #nishinoya yuu

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starfirette · 4 years

Text

Every Which Way: Chapter Eight

The Way To Redemption

⇢a/n: I hope this chapter can bring some light to everyone during this difficult time. This was difficult to write, so please let me know if something doesn’t make sense/sounds fragmented. It’s quite possible some paragraphs seem forced in! please leave your thoughts in the replies :) I love you all!!!!

⇢ masterlist | previous chapter | inbox | >>NEXT CHAPTER<<

⇢Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader: angst | wordcount: 4, 453

⇢ Featuring, Wendi, Ryder, Paz, Gold, Lando, and Boba (JFC)

🏷 @woterezwhet @talesfromtheguild @poupoupoupoupou @multifandom-fiasco @fandomqueen74 @fifiyau105 @shayna-winchester @mserynlarsen

To whomever it may concern, the transmission started. This is Lando Calrissian, the Baron Administrator on Cloud City. Following the disappearance of several men, as well as the Bounty Hunter I employed, I have come across a gunship marked from the Pre-Empire reign. The ship is empty but it is clearly missing its passengers. After careful investigation, I have chosen to relay this transmission to the last person or peoples in contact with the pilot.

The hand that grabbed out in the darkness pressed over your mouth.

You jerk awake, stirring in fear under your thin quilt.

“Ssh,”the intruder coaxed. Your eyes darted frantically, straining to see past the darkness. Past the sparks of light the dance is the slender face of Vidia.

You sat up, your loose hair in a messy whirl over your shoulders.

“Why are you not in your own bed?” You tiredly implore. Your good friend’s face did not wrench in a frown nor a grin like you would have expected. It chilled your blood when you realized she bore not a shred of emotion in her eyes or her ebony face.

She held your hands close to her, her grip like that of ten men. You couldn’t start to understand the painful silence that knit between you two.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

Her lips parted with a small tremor in her chin. Her words wouldn’t ever quite leave your mind after that night, but you had no way of knowing that at that very moment.

“You’re going to leave me?” you whispered.

Vidia’s hands gripped your hands tightly. Her eyes that glistened under the soft torch light filled with a strange kind of sorrow, as if she were parting from her own child.

“I’ll come back for you. So soon. It’s a promise.”

And then she left your side, as quietly as she’d come.

Bursting awake felt like being overwhelmed by all your senses at once. The medicinal burn of alcohol flooded your nose, stinging your nostrils; the touch of the air burned your skin as if you were too close to the flame of a campfire. Your ears pulse and ache at the flat, shrieking bell that rings without stop.

The bitter taste of your dry tongue floods your mouth as you salivate under the pressure of your panicked awakening. As for your sight,you see nothing but the bright blur of colors, as though you’d squeezed your eyes shut to see distant galaxies much like a child would.

Part of you wanted to call out for help. Your chin quivered as your mouth contorted; the muscles of your jaw clenched as you were unable to form any words. It seemed that, for this time after waking, you could not remember how to speak. You made panicked sounds a bit like a baby would before you could quite recall your verbal skills.

Your pathetic sqwacking for help got answered by the strong, leather bound hands of a stranger squeezing your shoulders.

You couldn’t remember much from before your sleep but that you’d been in serious danger.

You called for your husband as you flailed against the gripping hands, whose strength matched ten hundred men. Amidst the panic, you feel the sorrow that blossomed through your chest like blood on cloth. Upon the thought of your husband, you remembered just what happened. The fuzzy memories fit together like pieces of broken glass. You couldn’t fit them together on your own. You had the hazy image of Din’s hands laid across yours, helping you to guide the glass whole.

“It’s alright,” the light voice commanded. You could vaguely remember hearing this voice once before.

You moan in despair as you recognize Paz, his warmth seeping through his leather gloves as he clutched your hand.

“Bring me to him,” you begged; you knew the answer would not be in your favor.

And yet, when Paz said the words, you could not help but break into a fissure of panic and tears. The aching in your limbs felt as it’d pour way into your bones. The crying only made the pain worse, as it wrung a tension headache across your forehead.

Din is gone. He is lost, nowhere to be found.

You were rescued after three months of being missing. However, as the covert did not have the exact tools to wake you immediately, you were kept asleep for four long months, feeling nothing, witnessing nothing; not even the replay of your memories. No dreams. Nothing to reflect. You could call it a wonderful nap, but it didn’t feel wonderful waking up.

You wished you could go back to that in between state, void of worry and grief until Din had returned.

Oh, how you are praying for his return.

Your vision failed to come back to you after some long minutes of Paz walking you through breathing exercises. The crying had exhausted you, as well as triggered a set of hiccups.

Paz and another Mandalorian, who did not speak, helped you move from the medical table onto a soft bed.

“How did you find me?” you ask, your voice hoarse. Paz is so close to your side, his presence never wavering. “Din had a tracking beacon on his ship. It led us to you.”

Yes, that’s right. He had insisted you wear a tracker.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“The hospital of the covert,” Paz responds faithfully. “You’ll see again, soon. It’ll take time to walk, and for the aching to go away. You’re in the process of recovering. You could think of it like an illness.”

“I do not care about my health,” you croaked. “I want my husband.”

How badly you want him. Burrowing your head in the crook of his warm neck would ease your body’s pain. The weight of his arm around you would ease your mind and heart.

Without him, you feel so helpless.

Guilt tries to pull you into the ground, as if your stomach held a heavy anchor of guilt and it plunged to the center of Nevarro.

How had you been alright, and not Din? How had you been separated?

Worse, had he been killed after you went into hibernation?

Tortured? Hurt? Even one hand laid on him sent you into a frenzy of anger.

Wanting to cry, your face pulled up so all the muscles hurt, but you could not summon the tears to fall.

Paz’s hand came to rest on top of yours. “It’ll be alright.”

You tried to pretend Paz’s hand was Din’s; but even the leather felt different. “How did you find me?” you asked.

“We found a tracking beacon on the Crest. We spent months looking for you, negotiating terms to get you back.” Paz’s hand squeezed yours, as if he meant to be comforting; it did not feel that way. “You have to tell us,” Paz’s voice urged. “Tell us who is responsible.”

Your blood boiled as you thought long and hard about it. You tried your best to recall the finer details. The green armor and the dark features of your captor is clear as day, but his name is impossible to remember. You felt nauseous as you thought. “I don’t know,” you whimpered out. “He was a Mandalorian...but he didn’t follow the rules. He was cruel. He threatened to kill us both. He was working with Lord Vader.”

“What was his name?” This came from Wendi, who had been soundless til now. You didn’t know she was here.

“I can’t remember,” you whispered.

Wendi gritted a sound of anguish. “There are several Mandalorians in league with Vader,” she proclaimed. “There’s no way we could keep track of those, let alone those who have been in and out of Bespin in the past year. Isn’t there anything else?”

“No,” you muttered. “There’s absolutely nothing.”

One month later

The bed just didn’t feel right without Din by your side.

The endless stretch of soft blankets felt suffocating and cold, as if it were a contraption meant to confine you from anything comforting. There came a time when you couldn’t bring yourself to cry again, as you had done often since the awakening; this such time visited you in the middle of the night, nine months after you had been captured on Bespin. Din’s face is so clear in your mind that you find it impossible to believe such time has passed. Nine months; you could be nearing the end of a pregnancy by now; but instead you had spent these days as an oversized bookend, gathering dust in the back of a warehouse. You’d been left alone, left for practically death, embedded into a block of carbonite.

In nine months you could have achieved so much at Din’s side. Aside from a child, there could have been epic adventures; your first fights. The purchase of a real home somewhere out in the vast universe you’d been so naively eager to explore.

You haven’t a clue what happened to Din after you’d been frozen. A part of you wants to hope that he is alive and well and surviving somewhere in the world. But you know deep down that it’s more likely that he is dead. He might have died just moments after you were put into hibernation. Or perhaps he’d survived a while before meeting a lonely surmise.

You long to see his face. You’ve got no photos or drawings of him; only the rendering of his face in your mind may satisfy the craving for his dark features and brown, brown hair.

You move upright to feel for the knob of the bedside lantern. Your fingers touched the dial, then turned it.

The soft light rose like a beast coming to its hind legs, the flames expanding a long shadow across the wall. You moved off the mattress to the little wardrobe. You’d become seized with the urge to be close to Din, now more than ever. You sift through each folded garment. You feel so suffocated to be parted from your husband.

Your heart is thumping so hard that the pulse is in your ears and in your fingers.

Your fingers close around the fabric instantly when you feel it underneath all the unused clothes.

The jacket is in your hands. The worn, soft brown leather jacket. You could press it to your face and smell Din’s natural perfume. The faded smell of beskar and soap cleared your mind. A moment of tranquil exhaustion had washed over you. Sinking down to rest on your knees, you tucked the leather jacket close around you.

You couldn’t sleep for a long time; instead, you sat on the floor of your bedroom, cradling the leather jacket as if it actually was Din.

Hours seemed to pass. You couldn’t do much but stare at every grain in the walls.

The brown leather jacket, soft and worn, is just as comforting as it had been when Din first gave it to you. He’d cared enough to give this jacket to you eleven months ago. Like you did then, you pulled the leather over your shoulders. Pushing your arms into the sleeves, you furled closer into the cape of fabric. The smell of his soa lingered along the insides of the collar. It hurt to smell him so close to you, so close that you could trick your brain into thinking he’s right beside you.

The sensation had you wide awake. Sleep could not and would not come to grant you the peace of mind. Still dressed in your night clothes, but wrapped up in Din’s jacket, you padded across the little bedroom to the door.

You could see the chair which housed your helmet. Din’s helmet should be beside it. He should be laying in the bed, half awake, mumbling for you to come back and keep him warm.

The halls of the covert aren’t totally empty. Light lined the walls from the mounted torches. A few Mandalorians lingered around, sitting at the leisure tables and playing board games. Probably too anxious to sleep.

There isn’t any moment where the entire covert is asleep all at once. Paz and Ryder, as well as another handful of their friends, guard the tunnels during the night. No one could risk an ambush.

You wandered into the gathering hall. The main table of food is lit with candles, for those who want a midnight snack. No one else is there.

You swiped a piece of cheese out of the basket piled high. Sinking your teeth into the rich block, you took a seat. One hand hovered over a lit candle, your finger swiping across the tip of the flame daringly as you tested the limits.

You heard the clacking footsteps down the hall minutes before they even came into the gathering hall. You tilted your head back so see Paz, standing tall in his blue armor.

“What are you doing awake?” he asked in a voice so soft you almost couldn’t hear him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him. “Morning already?”

“Close to it,” Paz said. “The sun will be up in an hour.”

“I see.”

Another day had come and gone; you’re just as lonely as you were the day before, and the day before that. You lost your appetite, setting the cheese down in a cloth napkin to wrap it up and save for later.

“How are you?”

Paz’s voice came again as he watched you carefully from his place just paces away. You gritted your teeth at the question. You’ve come to hate these words.

“I’m the same as I have been all this time,” you tell him. “And I will be until my husband is back at my side.”

His armor shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his beskar moving from left hip to right. “Y/n…”

You grimmaced hearing his voice say your name. You’d heard this particular term, with that particular tone, more times than you could count.

“Please, don’t say anything,” you stopped him before he could continue. “I already know what you’re going to say. For once, I’d like to hear the truth. Don’t give me false hope. Just say what you’re thinking.”

He seemed stunned by your words. His hands hovered in the air awkwardly as he debated doing as you’d asked.

“Please?” you asked him. Your voice cracked so badly that it had alerted you to your own crying.

Paz looked down to his feet. His helmet must have weighed down on his neck.

“Spit it out,” you urged him. You couldn’t help but feel bitter and angry. Paz didn’t deserve the attitude you were giving him, but you were unable to stop it.

“It should have been me.” Paz’s words didn’t make sense at first. “It was meant to be me. And if it had been, none of this would have happened.”

“What do you mean?” you croaked out.

“You and I were meant to marry. Not Din. It was for Clan Viszla. But Din couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else being with you. He forced his way by your side. If I had married you instead, you wouldn’t have been hurt. I wouldn’t have let it happen.”

The world felt like it was colliding with another planet. Your stomach flipped around so violently you felt like you’d puke all over yourself. You hadn’t expected to hear such a confession. You’d rather hoped it would be something useful; something real, something motivational, like how you’d have to eventually move on from grief to go and seek vengeance for your missing husband. Instead, you’d gotten the worst piece of news possible.

You lurched to your feet. “How could you say this to me?” you shouted. “How could you tell me such a selfish, selfish truth? Do you have any idea how much I need you right now? You’re my only friend, and yet all you can do is hurt me.”

He took a heavy stride, his hands reaching out for you. You tried to perry out of his reach, but he grabbed you by the shoulders roughly.

“You asked for the truth. I only gave it. I’m not saying this to hurt you. I’m saying this because I feel guilty. Something inside of me is convinced that this is my fault. Do not ever think I resent Din. I’ve known him the greater length of my life. Since he was a child, and I an adolescent, we trained and learned together.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” you sobbed out. “It doesn’t.”

“I know,” Paz murmured.

You clung against Paz’s armor, tucking your head against his chest plate as you cried against the beskar. It was not comfortable, but it felt wonderful. You’d almost forgotten how comforting physical contact can be.

This did not last long. As soon as you’d become fond of the feeling of being held, you were doused with extreme guilt. You wrenched out of Paz’s strong arms, your feet practically missing the floor.

“I have to sleep,” you sniffed, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears. “I have to think. I have to remember.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Paz assured you.

“It’s easy for you to say that when you aren’t missing your greatest love,” you chastised him, your voice still thick with crying. “I just want to be alone for a while.”

There wasn’t anything Paz could think of to say that could possibly stop you. He nodded, his head just barely inclining, as he stepped out of your path.

You hurried back into your bedroom, not stopping to look past anyone that lingered in the tunnels.

You shut your door and switched the locks into place. You shimmied out of your jacket, setting the leather piece on Din’s side of the bed.

It has been too long that you’ve spent sitting around and moping. Everyday that passes could cost Din his life; you’re determined to find him.

Even with this determination, you’re still at a roadblock. Would thinking harder and longer really solve much of anything?

Every thought and memory is a jumble of total nothingness. There’s not much you can make sense of.

Digging through the drawers in your room, you searched for something you could write with. A spare parchment journal and inkpen had been gathering dust for some time under the bed. The pages are empty and worn, as it had waited all its life to be used.

Your dominant hand began to ache as you held the pen to the parchment. You have no writing calluses, nor any proper amount of practice; even so, you’d have to struggle through it.

You started with writing the first details. Where you’d been going and why. You had to walk back through your memories several times to ensure you could remember every little detail. Cloud city. It had been a bounty on the run from his own debts. Din had mentioned how scarily empty the city’s landing pad was when you returned there to pick up the reward.

He was open to the idea that the city was operating under Imperialites, even if it wasn’t being advertised. But what next? You waited on the ship, soon following Din after he’d relayed his desperate message.

You remember running through the narrow halls, dodging stormtroopers on every side before you had reunited with him.

And then what?

You couldn’t recall. It’d been a grieving hour that resulted in the worst outcome. But that’s all you can remember.

You had your three pages of grueling details written in strained font. The blots of the ink stained through the pages where you rested your pen as you took a beat to remember.

You tossed the journal and pen aside. You’d given up––for now.

You’d have to sleep if you wanted to remember anything else useful enough for your search.

You curled into the bed, underneath the quilts. You tugged the leather jacket into your arms.

The gap in your brain is troubling. It’s one hour out of several you can’t remember; it’s ironic.

Burying your face against the fabric, you could practically feel every part of Din. His warmth; his rough hands. Even the stubble he had been letting grow in.

Life would continue to carry on without him. You know this. Now more than ever.

Of course you know that he could be dead. He could have died mere seconds after your freezing.

All you truly want is to put the gnawing mystery to rest. If he’s dead, you’d want to put his soul at peace and live the rest of your days in memoriam of your love.

A knock rapped at the door. You rubbed your pricking tears into the pillow, leaving behind stains like raindrops, before you slowly moved to answer.

Beyond the door was Ryder.

You couldn’t contain your surprise. You’d definitely not become close with Ryder after waking up from your sleep. At least that didn’t change.

“Good morning,” you hazard. His crimson helmet stared directly into your eyes. Robotically, he held out his arm. A folded parchment envelope was forced into your hands. “I will see you at dinner,” Ryder said sternly before he left.

You watched him jerk down the hallway.

“Curious,” you murmured. He became a blot of red in the distance. You shut your door behind you as you returned to lay in your bed.

A few words scrawled on the outside of the envelope in an elegant script. You took a moment to piece the words together, sounding them out audibly to yourself. “Mar...mare...marriage vows.”

You tore into the envelope.

Din Djarren’s name is scrawled at the top; his own script isn’t as elegant, but it is neat and legible. Each letter has a crooked slant, and his ‘I’s are done up with small horizontal slashes rather than dots.

My vow, the letter reads…

My vow is to never leave her.

To always satisfy her.

To never give her grief.

To keep her warm, or cool her down.

To tenderly nurse her to health during times of illness.

To devote my life to her safety.

To give her the strongest of children.

My eternal promise to Y/n Djarren is, and always will be, to stand loyally at her side. No time of darkness could waver my devotion to her. It has been my greatest pride so save her from Aniri and watch her turn into the strongest, bravest woman I’ve known.

My vow is to love her.

It took a long time for you to complete the page. When you did, you read and re-read it, over and over until you had the entire damn thing memorized.

You had always wondered what he wrote on that night. Where you had only written the simplest of vows, he had thought of every single possible promise he could make. It hurt you so terribly to read these vows, now, and know that he’s gone in the world.

You wiped your eyes with the inside of your wrist. After carefully folding up your letter, you slipped it into the pocket of the leather jacket. You returned to your rest, hiding beneath the blankets with your face burrowed into the leather.

You are comforted to know that Din had at least fulfilled all of his promises. He had died with you loving him and being as equally loved. If there’s anything you want to do, it would be to somehow let him know that you’re safe. You worry that he died feeling guilty and scared for your safety.

Drifting off into a soft lull of sleep, Din’s face danced on the backs of your eyelids.

Once tumbled into the dreamland, you found yourself on a cliff’s edge with Vidia.

She held your hand, still wearing her rags. Her face is void of makeup. Her nose and cheekbones glisten gold under the sunshine that warms her night skin. She’s beautiful as you remembered. It wasn’t a wonder why she’d been chosen to wear the makeup. Her eyes that twinkled with mischief turned to you. Her hair, loose curls in the wind, became brushed behind her ear when she asked you, “Why so sad?”

You cast her a glance. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about,” you told her. “Both you, and my husband.”

Vidia Thorpe laughed. “You care for so much more than me and your old brute of a man. I wish I could meet him someday.”

“I wish you could, too,” you muttered. “You never will.”

“Why?” she asks. “Because I’m dead?” Her pink lips puckered as she laughed loudly, almost doubling over herself.

“Because he’s dead, too,” you say.

“Oh, Annie,” Vidia sighed. “Your husband isn’t dead. He’s just lost.”

“Then how can I find him?” you gasped out. “I can’t even remember.”

“Yes, you can,” Vidia promised. She smiled sweetly, as though she knows something you don’t. “I miss you very much,” she tells you. “You’ve truly grown into a dandy woman.”

“Dandy?” you repeated.

“Yes, Annie,” Vidia grinned. “Dandy.”

She extended her arms towards you, pulling you in for a hug. She pressed a kiss to the top of your hair before saying goodbye and walking towards the edge of the cliff.

You reached after her, your heart catching in your throat as you tried to warn her to watch out for the drop off.

She kept walking.

Walking across the clouds, into the sunshine.

The kiss she had placed over your head planted a seed of the memory. Its roots grow down into the center of your mind. The hazy images played in the sky; the green Mandalorian’s dark, handsome face is cast transparent beneath the sun’s rays. His voice speaks in the distance.

“Tell me your name,” the Mandalorian urges, “or I’ll kill your lover.”

“Vidia,” you spit out. “Vidia Thorpe.”

You felt guilty for using your late best friend’s name this way, but it was the only possible thing you could say to avoid inflicting harm onto Din.

“Intersting,” the Mandalorian mulls. “I’ve never heard of Clan Thorpe. You must be a foundling.”

You couldn’t calculate what to say to that. Recalling every single rule and tradition you’d been taught, you did your very best to withstand the Mandalorian’s intterogation.

“Who took you in?”

“Shut up,” Din shouted.

“I asked you a question, Vidia,” the Mandalorian repeated. “Which clan rescued you? Can’t you see that I mean you no harm? We both have sworn the same creed, as you can clearly see. We share the same armor. I guess I’ve been a bit rude, however. My apologies. I am Boba Fett, the first and only heir of Jango. I am pleased to make your aqquaintence.”

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avengingkjct · 6 years

Text

When Fate doesn’t get Her Way

This was inspired by my earleir headcanon about them dying together.

If Bond dies before Q, he dies for his country. He dies protecting what he loves.

Bond dashes down the corridor towards the control room he had seen earlier. He rounds the corner, narrowly missing the stream of bullets coming from the men chasing him. He has to bring down the compound.

His original mission had been to take down the mastermind behind this particularly elaborate set up to plunge the modern world into a nuclear war. But that didn’t matter anymore because intel had come in too late because one of their own had betrayed them, because the mastermind was now flying away from this mess in a helicopter and because Bond had to stop a set of nuclear missiles from launching. One of which was clearly labelled: England.

Bond reached the control room, already unlocked for him courtesy of Q who was watching miles away in the safety of Q branch. He glanced at the nearest camera and gave it a look of gratitude. Once inside the locks clicked back into place and Bond moved towards a panel with switches. He had seen this set up before in the lairs of other villains. He knew the destruction they would cause when all were flipped and he knew he wouldn’t have the time to make it out.

Bond flipped the first.

“Bond,” warned Q in his ear no doubt having seen the data on his laptop. Q and his team were locked out against the program running the missiles but they were still fighting it.

“You won’t break it in time,” Bond reminded him of his earlier assessment as he flipped the next set.

“But..” there was a quiver in Q’s voice and Bond’s heart lurched.

“I have to Q,” he said firmly but with a desperateness that tinged the edges. He was doing his job, his duty. A duty he felt deep in his bones, in his core, the same duty that had pushed him all those years in the Royal Navy and then as a spy, as a double-oh. He had to do this because he loved England, he loved his home and James Bond could not live with himself if he had lived while all his friends died. He could not live if his home ceased to exist, couldn’t stand the idea of England not being there with its cities and its people and with Q. If that warhead with England marked so boldly on its side was released then that would be the end of Bond’s everything and Bond could not let that be.

“I know,” Q whispered.

And oh, it broke Bond’s heart as he continued to flip switches and thought about how he’d never see London again, never see another opera, how he would never join Tanner for a beer at their pub. How he would never get to tease Moneypenny again. Or see Q’s smile when Bond tickled him. Or get to feel Q when Bond was enveloped in one of the boffin’s hugs. It broke Bond’s heart that he would never see Q again, never get to kiss his unruly curls, or pull him in close at night. He would never see their cats again. Never chide them for stealing his food.

His finger hovered over the final switch.

“I love you,” Bond said.

“I love you too.”

Bond flipped the final switch.

The entire compound shook as explosion after explosion went off getting closer and closer to Bond. He could hear the clattering and rumble of walls crumbling down.

A boom sounded from nearby.

Bond took a deep breath.

For England, he thought, for Q.

Q heard the explosions through Bond’s earpiece feed and watched as sections of the compound went off in flames and the trackers of the missiles began going offline one by one until there was nothing but static on the monitors and silence on the comms.

Q branch was quiet. No one dared to say a word. Everyone’s eyes on their quartermaster, waiting and watching.

Mallory had come down with Tanner and Eve when the mission had turned critical. They stood behind Q exchanging worried glances with one another.

Q removed his headset placing it down on the table.

“Agent down,” he said to the silent room still facing away from them all and very still.

“Q, you should go home,” said Mallory, a part of him hoping he won’t have to fight the boffin. To Mallory and everyone else’s surprise Q agrees.

He remains silent as he packs his bag. Q’s heart is cracking, fissuring at the edges and he fights to keep it together, to keep his composure. He hands the controls over to R, who gives him a sympathetic squeeze and Q has to try harder not to break in front of his department. He waves off Moneypenny’s offer to take him home but agrees to be accompanied by an agent if only to appease Mallory.

Mallory watches them leave, notices the darkening storm in Q’s hazel green eyes and begins to worry, reasonably so.

When Q walks through his front door he’s beginning to crack and he tries not to remember the various times Bond broke into his flat at the beginning of their courtship. He shuffles down the hall dropping off his bag and coat in his room before heading to the bathroom to take a shower. He avoids looking at Bond’s belongings. Bond’s shampoo. Bond’s razor. Bond’s shaving cream.

By the time Q is done he has reined in his emotions just enough to execute his plan. He’s holding his hurting heart together, for now.

He dresses in a pair of soft, well-worn pyjamas. The ones Bond had gifted him last month just because.

He puts on the kettle and makes himself a cup of tea.

In no time he is headed to the bedroom with a cup of earl grey and he settles himself in the middle of the bed with his laptop. His cats, Huxley, Turing, and Beretta (the kitten Bond had saved in Russia) all follow him. They curl up around him, warming him up.

Q opens up his laptop and gets to work.

True to who he is, Q rains down a fury fuelled by heartbreak, grief and anger. James should have made it. The mission should not have gone to hell the way it did. Their agent should have thought twice before double-crossing MI6. James should have made it. Within hours Q has tracked down the responsible parties, has collapsed various networks, tipped off the correct foreign agencies, has made just the right people angry, and killed a few others. All with carefully calculated finger taps on the correct key combinations.

And then it’s done. Just like that. Nothing grandiose because that’s just the way the game is played. There is no trumpet flare. There is just Q and the emptiness in him and around him. He pushes his laptop and empty mug away and has to stifle a sob.

The cats crawl into his lap, nudging their foreheads against him. Turing reaches up to paw at his cheek and Q’s heart shatters. He cannot hold it together any longer. He draws the cats in and sobs. Painful, lonely sobs wrack his slender body as Q mourns everything he has lost.

Back at MI6, Mallory is watching his inbox flood on one monitor while the other has various news tabs open. Arrests and tragedies are taking place in Russia, in the part of Russia where Bond had originally been sent. Mallory was afraid of this.

The PM is going to be calling him soon and Mallory knows he’s going to play dumb and then there will be an investigation to make sure MI6’s hands are clean. They won’t find anything. Mallory knows the range of Q’s skills has seen it firsthand. They won’t find anything.

That does nothing to assure Mallory. They may not get Q this time but there may—there will be other chances. With resignation, Mallory picks up a pen.

An hour later Mallory is handing Eve a prepared kill order missing his signature. Eve reads it over and then looks up at him with wide eyes. Mallory nods in the direction of the tv. The news is displaying a fire at a warehouse that had once been under investigation.

“Just in case,” He says.

Eve solemnly nods.

A year later 006 follows Q into a dark alley on an equally dark night. Q turns to face him. His cheeks are more hollow, and his green-hazel eyes lifeless.

“Take care of the cats, please, Alec.”

Nobody is around to hear the shot.

#007 fest 2018 #007 fest #oh I'm sorry did that hurt #i dunno if it hurt #I'm sorry of it did #I really am #it's just the idea didn't wanna leave #there may be a part two #because I need to do a what if for Q #anyways that's that #July 20 2018 #avengingkjct #MCD

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kindly-creatot · 7 years

Text

memories to daydreams pt1

ahahahahahah. so that idea about danny being a live-in boyfriend? wrote it. or well, part of it cause i’m ngl, it’s gonna be a chapter fic. lmao rip me

pt1-pt2-

Vlad was lonely. There was no denying it, he was too old to even think about denying it to anyone. Pushing closer to 'lifetime bachelor' and further from 'workaholic' than he'd actually wanted lately had the man thinking about just hiring someone off the internet to come and stay with him to keep him company and… well, Vlad was not going to force anyone to do anything they didn't want to, but he had urges. He was only human.

No, no. It would be a stupid idea to indulge in, Vlad thought to himself as he stared out the windows of the home office he worked in. Well, really he just sat here at the expensive desk until someone sent him something to sign off on or get a green light to start something. It was a maudlin way that his employees felt they needed in order to keep him 'busy'.

He lets out a sigh and spins his chair back to the dark computer screen before he makes his decision and stands. He pulls on his suit jacket just as his (poor bored) assistant walks in.

"Uhm, sir?" Desiree looked confused for a moment and Vlad could understand why, it was only noon. "Where are you going?"

"Ah, I figured I would grab my own lunch and then take the day for myself. Would you like the day off too? It must be dreadfully boring working for me," he chuckles and his assistant can't help the small smile on her face but nods anyways.

"If you say so, sir. I was just going to let you know I was going down the street to that little Italian place for lunch," she thinks for a moment and Vlad fidgets. "Would you like to come along? I'm sure the girls won't mind at all,"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose-"

"Nonsense! You'd be a wonderful addition to the lunch party," she assured the older man with a wide grin and grabs his arm in hers but Vlad feels wary at the moment. Like he just got thrown into something he didn't know about yet. -----

The group of women he was seated with for lunch, Vlad would equate to a pack of hyenas. The laughing and cacophony of noise that they made almost grated on his ears. They were as welcoming as his assistant had said and Vlad was grateful for that.

"So, Mr. Masters," one of the younger women, Ember if Vlad remembered correctly, looked him over as she lifted her glass of wine to her blue lips. "You got anyone special? Someone at home, warming your bed tonight?"

"Ember!" Desiree called out, she looked offended for Vlad and the man was struck with such a feeling of friendship for the woman at the moment. "You cannot just ask that! We're at lunch,"

"So? If he wasn't here, we'd already be talking about our partners," Ember laughs as Desiree blushes.

"This is my boss, okay? Be respectful," she tries once more before another girl pipes in.

"Okay, but seriously. Do you have anyone in your life, Mr. Masters?" This one is a shy looking girl, light hair braided to one side and wearing what he thought was a peasant blouse, Dora he thinks her name is that.

"Oh, no. I, uhm, I've been focused on my work for so long that I am afraid I have neglected that idealistic home life," Vlad admits to them and the girls just stare for a second before bursting into what Vlad only knows as 'cooing'. That is a sound that does grate on his ears and all he can do is give an awkward smile to the girls. "I am afraid that there is not much to talk about when it comes to my romantic life. This morning I'd had the ridiculous thought of hiring someone to be a sort of 'live-in boyfriend or girlfriend'. As if anyone would ever do that!" Vlad laughed at his own idea as did the women at the table. He smiles when they all calm down and they start chatting again easily. Vlad offers to pay for everyone's lunch that day.

He leaves the lunch in a good spirit and feeling ready for the long weekend alone. -----

Monday comes soon enough and the older man is glad to see his assistant already at her desk and looking over, what Vlad presumes are, e-mails.

"Good morning, Desiree," He calls out as he passes by her.

"Ah, Mr. Masters! Good, uh, good morning," he gives her a glance as he stops at his office doors. She was smiling nervously at him but Vlad doesn’t know if she wants a man like him to pry into it so he smiles back and walks to his desk. It's all very normal and humdrum to begin with. Letters for the company, some expenses and new notifications about products from other sellers, a letter for Vlad to attend a banquet.

Sometimes when they include a plus one invitation it feels mocking.

He sets that all aside to turn on the computer, settling in his chair easily. The day wasn't going to be all that bad, he knew because most people avoided doing any real work on Mondays. He was hoping for an almost empty inbox for his emails, honestly. Maybe he could take another half day and-

'ping! ping! ping! ping!'

Maybe not, he thought to himself. Various emails were flooding into his account and Vlad had half a mind to believe them all to be from some sort of virus or some such, until he read the subject lines on some.

"Application for Potential Live-In Boyfriend? Live-In Girlfriend?!" Was this some sort of joke? How would someone have gotten this kind of an ide-

Ohhhh. Vlad looks to the door way pf his office, cracked open the slightest so Desiree would be able to hear him no matter if he spoke up or softly.

"DESIREE," she pokes her head just the slightest into the doorway.

"Yes, sir?" she smiles but it looks like she's worried. Vlad thinks she should be.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" He moves the screen to show the inbox to her.

(372) Unread INBOX "Ah, well… See, uhm," Vlad brings a hand to his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "The girls wanted to, you know, bring your idea to life? There's an actual application and everything," she leans over to pull up one of the latest emails and opens the file to show the attached application to Vlad. It's in depth and lists all sorts of information.

"I should fire you," he states with a frown and Desiree freezes for a second and Vlad can see the tears welling up in her eyes. "But you are the best damn assistant I have ever had so… I thank you for caring but please, no more of these ideas, okay?" With that he shoo-s her back to her desk and she spouts 'thank you' a few times at him weepily. She had left the email open and Vlad takes a look at the one she pulled up with a sigh.

Daniel J. Fenton, age 20, black hair and blue eyes, college student working as a barista… it was not that this Daniel character was impressive but Vlad was curious to see just how in depth this application went and how much information these people were willing to give up for this sham. At least there was a simple 'about me' paragraph that Vlad could read easily.

My name is Danny, I work full-time and go to school full-time for my Astrobiology degree. I'm not looking for a handout, but if you really are looking for someone to keep you company, I'd ask for only tuition money. I would love to stop working at the Coffee Palace (yeah, the name sucks I know) and focus on my studies. This is probably a sham though so I don't expect much from this. (Sorry, but it's too good to be true that a famous billionaire like Vlad Masters doesn’t have a bunch of woman/men hanging off his every word.)

It rambles on for a bit, there was even another attached document to the email entitled 'More About Me' that Vlad had to laugh at. The audacity that this, this child would think that Vlad would open another file simply to know about him was hilarious to the man.

He clicked open the file anyways.

#pompous pep #danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad masters #danny fenton/vlad masters #fanfic #my writing

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simplyrochellemari · 8 years

Text

Knock next time. ~Bucky Barnes~

Summary: Bucky has been away on a mission for three weeks leaving the ex-SHIELD agent with severe PTSD alone.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: The reader has PTSD and becomes easily anxious.

Author’s Note: Guys- I’m so sorry for the short hiatus. I was just working through some personal issues that took priority. :) Sorry to all who has been waiting for me to update. I’m back and writing up a storm.

This is not my gif but if it is yours tell me and I’ll give you some credit.

Thank you for 151 followers :) Please don’t hesitate to fill my inbox with requests and messages. xx

---

You unlocked the door to the apartment - the familiar pull and push of the old creaky door knob- a relief after the long day of work. The two jobs that you were trying to juggle taking its toll on you. And the empty apartment.

You dropped the keys on the kitchen counter as you quickly kicked the door closed. Swiftly locking the door again- a habit. The closed door shielding you from the icy breeze that licked at your bare skin before entering.

The empty apartment smothering all the relief that you felt upon entering. You sighed almost irritably as you pushed forward into the apartment.

You smiled slightly at the familiar smell of vanilla and cinnamon hitting your nose as you passed the scented candle on your way to the living room.

The one Bucky had given you on your 1 year anniversary along with a gorgeous promise ring that still sat on your ring finger- and that was 3 years ago. The candle held so many memories alone.

Late night dinners, Bucky cooking, You cooking, dancing in the dim-lit kitchen, drinking coffee at two in the morning because Bucky had woken from a nightmare, early mornings as you and him discussed missions and what you had to do at work, hosting a game night with the other team members. In all these memories it was Bucky that was always there.

You groaned inwardly as the past memories flooded your head and at the thought of him not being home yet.

You attempted to massage your neck- the stress, anxiety and tension- biting violently at all the muscles in your neck and shoulders. It starting to build into a headache at the nape of your neck.

You collapsed onto the couch- counting the days he had be gone on this mission quietly in your head.

3 weeks.

It has been three weeks since you’ve last seen your long time partner, boyfriend and lover of 4 years.

The most difficult four years of both you and Bucky’s lives.

The winter soldier situation, endless arguments with Bucky, the nightmares, night terrors, the Tony and Steve situation, Bucky and you fighting with Steve and the fact that you went undercover for 6 months to infiltrate a sex traffic ring and returned with a horrid case of PTSD.

It was a hell of a four years but you always had Bucky amidst the chaos of your lives and he had you.

He has always been your rock, anchor and the only person that kept you grounded in the world of sudden normalcy. As you left SHIELD behind to take care of him, and yourself and try to stick to as much of a normal life as possible. To try and combat your severe case of PTSD.

But it has been three weeks since you spoke to him- or any of the other team members. Satellite phones were always mandatory and you couldn’t even think about emailing or texting like a normal couple. He had to call you.

You glanced over to the satellite phone standing motionless on the tea table with both you and Bucky’s books stacked high beneath the lamp- a lone cup of icy cold coffee filling the table as well.

Your eyes flicked away not being able to bear the thought of him not calling you because something had happened and towards the photo frames on the opposite table and a smile ghosted over your face.

There were 2 frames on the table; the first one with you and Bucky lost in a kiss on new years eve after you quit the force and the other one with you and Bucky dancing on the beach the only holiday you both had been able to take in the blur of the last four years.

You sighed as a odd tear sprung to your eye and you leaned over to grab the remote for the television trying to distract yourself as much as possible.

You just wanted him home.

The screen in front of you flickered to life and the first thing that popped up was the two security cameras Bucky had set up at the front and backdoor upon your request. Upon you returning from being undercover for so long.

Your eyes carefully scanned the two images nothing attracting your attention and then you flicked over to the news. You had finished the late shift at your waitering job tonight and it was about 9;00pm.

You had hoped Bucky would be home but he wasn’t and the chances were slim for him showing up anytime now.

Then you heard it. Something falling over in the kitchen. A vase- a glass- a cup- something had fallen over. Your blood ran cold.

Your ears blocking out all the news the television was making and only focusing on background noise. Someone was in your apartment. And you were sure it wasn’t Bucky. You silently moved toward the cupboard with the stack of books and the satellite phone.

The hand-gun you had used in the force laid in there. The floor-boards creaked in the kitchen and you almost screamed and burst into tears simultaneously.

Was it a robber? Was it someone that had found you due to your undercover life? Where they going to take you away? Do the things they did to the little boys and girls? Were they just going to kill you?

Your mind raced with questions which didn’t help the ever growing anxiety that was building.

You had managed to pull the drawer open as far as possible without any noise and ability to pull the gun out.

You slicked off the couch moving yourself to the entrance to the living room. Holding the gun firmly in both of your hands. Your hands trembling. Your tongue tasting like metal. Your feet tingling at the anxiety. Your chest aching.

You blinked rapidly and cursed yourself silently for not turning on any lights. The movement not seizing in the kitchen. You slowly moved your feet etching closer to the entrance

-the kitchen slowly coming into view.

Then your felt your heart tug and relief spill over your body like icy water. Your heart thudding against your chest. You instantly dropping the gun and letting both hands hang by your side- trembling.

“Bucky” you whispered- barely audible. But he somehow heard and turned towards you. A smile cracking across his face but soon fading as he saw you shaking like a leaf- a gun in your hand.

“Y/N.” he spoke in almost an apology. “I’m sorry- I should’ve knocked. I just didn’t know if you were asleep and I didn’t want to bother you.”

You shook your head as he moved towards you. You took a step forward and you were standing in the hallway. With him a few inches from you.

“I-I-I t-hou-ght y-y-ou-” you stuttered but he quickly moved till his hands were resting on both your arms trying to steady you.

“It’s okay darl. It’s me. I’m home.” he cooed. You nodded as tears started to pluck at your eyes.

Dropping the gun right there on the floor as you threw your arms around Bucky’s neck. His hair tickling your cheek. He quickly wrapped his arms around you careful not to hurt you with his metal arm. He smelled of gun powder, aeroplane and something that only Bucky could smell of.

“I missed you.” you whispered as he sunk his face into your neck. Lifting you off the ground slightly.

“I missed you. I’m sorry I stayed away this long it’s just that-” he spoke but you cut him off.

“Your home- that’s all that matters.” you replied. He squeezed you and you felt at peace with standing there with him- you in his arms. Just to reassure that it was him and that he was safely at home.

Slowly you pulled away from one another. Him quickly picking up the hand gun. Un-cocking it.

“I was ready to shoot you, you know.” your voice uttered and he glanced up at you forming a sympathetic smile.

“I promise to knock next time. I swear.” he said solemnly. You nodded.

“Please do. You scared the shit out of me.” you laughed nervously. He smiled as he placed the gun on the counter behind him.

“I scared the shit out of you?” he questioned, “I nearly threw you with a skillet because I thought you were sleeping.”

You laughed slightly as he chuckled wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close.

“Of course that is the first thing a SHIELD agent thinks of doing.” you replied and he winked.

“I’m off duty.” he winked and you laughed as you both made your way to the kitchen. Both you and Bucky cooking together for a late night dinner. Something both of you had needed after the long time being apart.

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky imagine #steve x bucky #buckynat #bucky x reader #captain america #reader x steve rogers #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #Winter Soldier #winter solider x reader #winter solider imagine #ptsdawareness #ptsd recovery

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