#so she makes him a skirt with Many Pockets (or she gets one and sews in massive pockets) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ofhouseadama · 3 years

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Ed gets drafted into the Navy right after high school, and in between finishing basic and getting shipped out to the Pacific, he promises Lorraine that the next time he sees her, he's going to propose.

after high school, Lorraine needs something to do so she gets a part time job as a secretary at the Diocese of Bridgeport helping wrangle parish finances and correspondence and other clerical and administrative work.

(this is where Lorraine first meets a young Father Gordon, who occasionally borrows her because she knows her way around a files room and takes excellent notes; he hears a lot about her boyfriend who's away on a ship in the Sea of Japan)

Ed and Lorraine write... a lot of letters during this time, which range from very chaste and heartfelt to NC-17 horny teenage screeds referring to their 3-day sojourn when they were seniors in high school, their many misdeeds in the back of Ed's car, and the time he snuck her into the Alamo Theatre after it closed so that they could have a "private showing" of a movie they remember very little of

when Lorraine is too anxious to sleep, she sews her wedding dress. she saw the pattern a few weeks after Ed left, and liked it, and bought it. she's been slowly buying yards and yards of satin and lace and tulle.

Ed squirrels away all the money that he can towards buying a wedding ring set for Lorraine. after he buys them while on shore leave in Tokyo, he keeps the rings in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt, next to his heart, to feel close to her.

his ship strikes a mine and goes down in the small hours of the night in June of '53; the rings are in his shirt pocket, and Lorraine feels it immediately. Father Gordon has to drive her home from work, and believes her immediately when she says she knows something bad happened to her boyfriend.

Ed makes it home to Bridgeport ten days later; he gets in a taxi at the Navy yard and immediately goes to Lorraine's house. she meets him at the front door before he can even knock and tackles him on the front lawn.

he proposes to her while very exhausted and not exactly coherent.

technically, she proposes to him because she tells him they're getting married and she's not waiting any longer.

these are two hotly contested facts for years to come.

they get one very hasty pre-cana session in as the Moran family (+ Father Gordon a little bit) cash in all their political capital with the church to expedite a wedding as soon as humanly possible.

Georgiana and her friends plan the wedding, everyone is very concerned about Lorraine's dress. Georgiana tells them they should be more concerned about Ed's dress uniform, currently at the bottom of the ocean.

(He wears a suit from Sears. It's fine.)

the story of Ed Warren, hometown boy, as the sole survivor of the sinking of the USS Saint Paul makes the local papers and absolutely no one remembers to tell his father that he made it home until a full 24 hours later.

Ed and Lorraine get married exactly two hours after the end of the legally-required 72 hour Connecticut waiting period elapses. it's a Friday afternoon.

when he sees her in his dress, Ed absolutely cries.

their wedding readings are Romans 12:1-2, 9-18 and Sirach 26: 1-4. it's not a full wedding mass, due to time restraints. it's actually nothing like Lorraine thought her wedding would be like, but she's so relieved Ed is alive, and he's not allowed to go back to the war without being her husband.

their reception is some cake and champagne in the parish hall, Ed's hands have been shaking so badly all day that he can't manage to get cake in her mouth off a fork so Lorraine grabs his hand and sucks it off his finger.

by this point she's had three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach.

it's over by the middle of the afternoon, and they're speeding off to the same aunt's beach house that they ran off to when they were seventeen, this time with permission and this time knowing the whole drive down that they're finally going to have sex.

Ed spends much of the four-hour drive from Bridgeport, CT to Cape May, NJ rucking the many layers of the skirt on Lorraine's dress up her legs, running the hand not on the steering wheel of the car up and down the inside of her thigh, keying her up.

they arrive shortly after dinner, having eaten cheeseburger and fries in the car in their wedding clothes, and are suddenly very very nervous.

even though they've done everything except the technical deed itself.

as Ed peels himself out of his suit and tries to not psyche himself out, Lorraine goes into the bathroom and changes into the peignoir and robe she made for her trousseau. she comes out of the bathroom to grab her brush to take her hair down, but Ed asks her to sit on the bed and pulls all the pins and flowers out himself, gently brushing her curls.

when he's done, he moves onto gently touching her. the last time he saw her naked was also in this bedroom, as they shook with restraint. now they're shaking for other reasons, hands rediscovering each other's bodies and warming themselves on each other's skin.

kissing her neck, he reaches one hand in-between the halves of her robe as the other moves her hair off her shoulder, exposing more skin.

he rucks the hem of the sheer white peignoir up to her knees, then her thighs, then her hips. Ed decides that he needs to make her orgasm before they have sex, because if he doesn't last long, then at least she'll be satisfied.

he eats her out like a man with a point to prove, because he's nineteen and very much is one in this moment.

it's been almost eighteen months since they've been physically present together, and they didn't have much alone time together before their wedding, and Lorraine feels like her body is on fire. it's been so long, and she feels like a bullet leaving a gun. it doesn't take much to make her cum, and Ed manages to do it several times before she's hauling him up her body.

he's still not done getting her ready, unable to not think about every horror story he's heard about bleeding and pain and discomfort and the terrible jokes from his bunkmates.

(they're all dead now. he tries to not think about that, why he lived and they all died. why did he survive, if not to make Lorraine feel good? if not to make them both feel alive? he needs to feel alive, and when he drinks her with his mouth and feels her clench around his fingers, he finally does.)

he sucks hickeys into Lorraine's neck and chest and breasts, keeping her high as he circles her clit with the fingers on one hand as he plays with her nipples with the other.

he is harder than he's ever been in his life, he thinks, pumping two and then three fingers into her. she's wet and all over his hand, dripping down onto his wrist. he wants to eat her out again, taste her again. his mind is a feedback loop of her pleasure.

Lorraine is trying to touch him, but her hands don't feel entirely attached to her body. she ends up curling her fingers into his hair and pulling. the sharp pain is delicious, and he moans while lapping at her nipple and thinks he might see God.

eventually he realizes that she's begging, chanting "now, now, please now, Ed, please--"

they both feel lust drunk and clumsy, all limbs as they take their clothes off, as Ed slots himself between her thighs.

she hasn't touched him at all, and he thinks if she does he'll cum immediately.

he pushes into her slowly, incrementally, watching her face the whole time.

she gasps, bites her lip, scrunches her face up. then, it starts to feel good, and her eyes flutter closed, and she moans.

he doesn't want to move. he wants to move more than he's wanted anything in his whole life. dropping down on his elbows and forearms, he shakes while hovering above her.

Lorraine's mouth is a perfect "o," and slowly she tests out how she wants her legs, first pressing her heels into his calves, then his hamstrings, before pressing her knees in at the sides of his hips. it feels incredibly intense, and she's not quite sure what to do with herself. she no longer feels in control of her body. all of her gifts of perception narrow down to hyper-perceiving Ed, the red sheen to his face, the flop of dark hair over his forehead, the sweat dotting his brow, his heart in his chest. his racing thoughts, his love for her. she feels him inside her body and inside her head. she shivers.

she squirms, trying to get him to move.

he does not, burying his face in her neck.

eventually he realizes that, as she traces her hands up and down the side of his spine, she's whispering, "move, honey, you gotta move, oh God please move, Ed honey please--"

something in his head breaks loose a little bit, and he snaps his hips into hers. when she moves with him, it breaks loose entirely.

it's entirely unskillful and uncoordinated, but Lorraine is already so close to orgasming again that it doesn't matter. when she cums again, Ed's entire brain malfunctions and he stops, watching her, feeling it and feeling her. she reaches down and straight up spanks him, telling him to keep moving.

doubling down, he sucks on the tendon where her neck meets her shoulder, and doesn't last much longer than her.

he thinks his vision almost whites out, gripping her hips tightly as he cums inside of her before pulling out of her and collapsing, happily burrowing his face into her breasts.

Lorraine laughs, wrapping her arms and legs around him, holding him to her tightly.

the insides of her thighs chafe a little, and she feels a bit raw, but she likes it.

they almost fall asleep that way, but Lorraine knows that's probably not a good idea. her mother knew enough about their relationship to know that Lorraine needed a little bit of motherly advice before her wedding night, but not that much. after rolling him off her, Ed promptly falls asleep on his side of the bed.

he didn't sleep the night before.

Lorraine takes a quick shower, washing the shellac out of her hair and scrubbing the make up off her face. she doesn't bother to redress, just gets into bed with him. he feels her weight on the mattress and rolls over, blearily reaching for her to pull her against him. he's half in between dreaming and wakefulness, and slides his hand up to cup her breast in his hand.

"can we do it again?"

#this is deeply unhinged #ed warren #lorraine warren #emily watches the conjuring #otp: i forgot my pills #this is sam and brittanys fault they encouraged it

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softomi · 4 years

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butterflies

prompt: I read in a book once that blue butterflies symbolize many things but I think my favorite was that they are wish-granters. So if you see a blue butterfly, make a wish.

pairing: atsumu x reader

word count: 3.3k

general taglist: @graykageyama

Between the twins, Osamu was always your favorite and it was clear that Osamu preferred you over his brother. Atsumu was the bane of your existence ever since they moved across the street from you. Seven years old, the parents happily introducing themselves, the children staring at each other awkwardly. One held a volleyball, the other staring at you. They were supposed to be your new friends, though all of you were seven, technically you were older. You were a grade above them having just made the cutoff to enter school early, that didn’t stop Atsumu from addressing you as though you were younger than him.

“Ow.” You fell onto your butt, Atsumu had harshly pushed you, “Tsumu.” You began to whimper, tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

He didn’t mean to push you so hard, he just didn’t like that your cooties were going to stain him. There’s a pretty blue butterfly pin in your pigtail braid and when he reaches out, your cries lessen. Your eyes widening, perhaps he was going to help you up. His fingers tug on one of your braids, a little too harshly that the butterfly pin falls out. You begin to wail more at how hurtful he was being.

“Tsumu!” Osamu rips Atsumu’s hand away, shoving the boy to stand between you and his brother. Osamu has dirt on his face from playing far away, he had left momentarily to dig through the ground but as soon as he heard your cries, he came running, “Don’t be mean!”

Atsumu doesn’t know what he did wrong, was it so bad that he was interested in your braids, “She’s the one being a cry baby.” He sticks his tongue out, scowling at you for ruining his fun.

The twins parents have emerged from the home, their mother helping you up and dusting off the dirt from your dress. Osamu lunges at Atsumu, they’re pulling each other’s hair, Atsumu is shoving his brother’s face with his palm, Osamu’s knee is pressing against his brother’s chest. Their father lifts Osamu off Atsumu, scolding the boys loudly for starting a fight.

“Apologize!” Atsumu’s head is forced in a bow by his father.

Atsumu’s fingers are clenched in a fist, “I’m sorry.” He’s gritting through his teeth. He has a scar on his cheek from his brother and he watches with a heavy glare at the way Osamu has his hand in yours, leading you into the home with their mom.

Atsumu plays by himself outside, his father watching him throw around the volleyball for an hour. He catches the ball and holds it still when he hears the door of the home opening. For a second he turns thinking Osamu has decided to come out and play but he scowls when you’re walking to him with your pretty blue polka dot dress.

“I brought you a cookie.” You have a plate in your hands, chocolate chip cookies looking freshly made. He reaches but his hand knocks the plate out of your hands, the cookies sadly falling onto the floor.

“Miya Atsumu!” His father’s stern voice sends a chill down his spine. Before he knows it, he’s being dragged into the home by the back of his shirt.

Atsumu thinks, it’s your fault he’s always getting in trouble.

After Osamu walks you home, Atsumu is allowed to come out of his room. He’s back outside and when he walks through the grass, something shiny attracts his attention. His fingers reach out, gripping the butterfly pin he remembers in your hair. He stuffs the pin in his pocket, running to throw around the volleyball with his brother.

As time went on, Atsumu, Osamu, and you fell into a respective trio dynamic. You were close-knit with Osamu, sharing similar interests in movies, games, and books. With Atsumu, you bickered and spat with him over every little thing; he stopped pulling your hair but that only egged him to think of other modes of torture. Osamu was always there to beat his brother up for you, someone’s got to knock him down a peg and that’s exactly what Osamu did.

By the time the twins entered junior high, Atsumu was beginning to notice he was the third wheel and the only way you’d ever look his way was when he tormented you. He’d spill his drinks on you, eat your food, purposely poke your sides to make you jump, scare you from around the corner, and even just plainly verbally hurt you.

“Did you gain weight?” Atsumu poked your stomach. You slap his hand away, trying to ignore him until Osamu arrived. You should have known better than to walk with Atsumu. He slings an arm around your shoulders, “Did you look in the mirror today when you got ready?”

His cackle is blow to your heart, you jab an elbow into his side, your palm wiping away a stray tear.

“Are you crying?” As much as Atsumu doesn’t want to laugh, because he doesn’t, he feels guilty, horrible even, but his automatic reaction is to chuckle, “Hey, I’m“ His apology is cut off when a fist forces him to step back.

Osamu blows on his fist, he looks at his brother with a grin, “Call it twin telepathy, I just knew you were being mean.”

Not much changed in high school, him a mere second year and you a third year. The only change he can think of is the fact that now you had a whole team to back you up. Kita was rather sharp in detecting Atsumu being a little prick to you, Suna took pride in tripping the blonde if he as much tried to approach you, the other’s seem to take more of an approach of just being near you. After all, you being their volleyball club manager was more important than Atsumu.

“Hey.” Atsumu’s voice stops you dead in your tracks before you can even step foot into the gymnasium to start setting up, “What’s with that on your face?”

Your hand instinctively flies to your cheeks, “What?”

His hand wildly gestures to his own face, “You trying to impress someone? Make-up won’t do you any good.”

You didn’t think anyone would notice the thin layer of foundation you put on or the minimal line of eyeliner; even your eyeshadow was so sheer, you wondered how he even saw it. You give him a cold shoulder, “Go fall off a cliff Atsumu.”

He follows you into the gym, setting his bag down onto one of the benches. He makes his way behind you, his finger dipped into your skirt, pulling at the waistband, “Oi, you have a rip in your skirt.”

“What are you doing?!” Osamu drops his bag at the entrance of the gym, he’s running, tackling his brother to the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” Atsumu is shoving his brother.

Osamu is digging his brother’s face into the floor, “You’re being a perv!”

“Fuck you!” Atsumu is on top of his brother now.

You could clear up the situation if they weren’t so engrossed in murdering each other. They continue to roll on the floor, taking turns shoving the other’s face into the ground. You use their distracted minds to pull your skirt around. He was telling the truth, it was barely noticeable but there was a tiny rip on the waistband, probably where he had been pulling.

Atsumu is biting the insides of his mouth, he had been scolded by Kita when Osamu explained what had happened, and even when you explained he had no ill intentions; Kita still lectured him on how it isn’t appropriate to touch a girl without her permission. Now he’s running laps around the gym with the rest of the team while you fiddle with the fabric of your skirt.

“Here.” You look up at him, Atsumu had disappeared for ten minutes and when he returned, he towered over you, in his hand a small sewing kit, “If you keep playing with it, you’ll end up ripping the entire skirt. No one wants to see that.”

Even when he’s being nice, he has to throw in a blow to your self-esteem.

“Thanks.” You say bitterly, “But I don’t know how to sew.” Your finger scratches against your head, “I know, I’m stupid.”

You’re not. Atsumu wants to say.

You shift uncomfortably when he suddenly takes a knee. He pulls the thread from the kit, looping it through the needle to make a small knot.

“Can I?” He’s asking permission to touch you and you merely nod.

Compared to his usual self, Atsumu’s touch is soft. You stare at how concentrated he is, stitching the ripped fabric so that it looks almost brand new. Though your uniform skirt was black, the thread he chose was vibrant red. He leans his head near your hip, he uses his teeth to sever the rest of the thread. His breath hot, you could barely feel it through the fabric of your shirt. Your cheeks tint with a blush when he briefly catches your gaze, he looks away quickly.

“What are you doing now?!” Osamu has returned from his long bathroom break; his hand pulls his brother back by the neck of his shirt.

“Samu!” You wave your hands around, “It’s alright, he was just helping me.” You point to the red thread of your skirt.

Atsumu has his hands up in mercy, Osamu eyes him, “I’m onto you.”

“What? Why?!”

Osamu throws a volleyball at his brother’s head, “Because! You’re an asshole!”

“We’re twins, so by default, you’re an asshole too.”

Atsumu starts to run, Osamu tackles him pretty quickly.

There’re girls piled at the door of Atsumu’s classroom, one by one they come in as though they’re presenting their sacrifices to the king himself. He has chocolates stacked to the ceiling, the teachers are already spreading news that they can’t yell at him since they are gifts and if he was forced to throw any away, the female student body would wreak havoc.

The second-year girls slink back when they spot you, a third year that has all the second-year boys turning heads. Some are boldly stopping you to present their own chocolates which you take sweetly. They sigh happily when you walk away.

“Please accept my confession!”

You enter as the class falls dead silent, you’ve come to the second year classroom to give your gifts to the volleyball boys but you’ve stumbled into what seems to be a public love confession to Atsumu. He leans back in his seat, balancing on the back two legs of the chair as he looks up to the girl. She’s shaking from anxiety with her chocolates out for him, the students begin to whisper the longer he takes to answer. You pity her because Atsumu is a complicated person, you just never know what he’s thinking or what he’ll do next.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t accept any more chocolates. Teacher says I have too much.” Atsumu settles himself onto the four legs of his chair, “You can try Osamu.”

Some of the students let out audible gasps at his comment. You watch her lower her head, brushing past your shoulder in a dejected fashion. The class goes back to bustling rather quickly. Suna sits straight up when he spots you at the door, he taps on Osamu’s desk, the male turning away from the window. Atsumu turns to look over his shoulder, his lips in a thin line when you walk towards the three.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” You have three bags in your hand, you settle one on Osamu’s desk, one falls into the hands of Suna and the last lingers between your fingers. Atsumu stares at it, he notices you have scribbled his name on the side.

The longer you stand without giving it to him, the more he gets irritated. His leg bounces rapidly, he notices the ugly boxes of chocolates squished between your arm and side; pathetic boxes given by pathetic guys. He could do better.

“I just came to drop these off.” Your voice is starting to fade as you notice the last bag still in your hand. You flip the bag around, Osamu and Suna stare at it, a weak glance to their setter, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Osamu got cookies and a gift card to the café he’s been dying to try out. Suna got cookies and a cute little fox plush. Atsumu got nothing but a blow to his pride. He’s sitting arms crossed, knee bouncing against his desk as he refuses to look at Osamu and Suna. Atsumu wonders what you had put in the bag for him.

He had thought long and hard about his gift, Atsumu wasn’t planning on getting you anything for Valentine’s day but the team insisted that it would be a good day to show their appreciation for their manager. When Atsumu asked Osamu what he had gotten for you, Osamu showed him the mug he bought that had a bunny on it. Apparently, the bunny changes color depending on the temperature of the drink. When Osamu asked what Atsumu had gotten, the male simply shrugged his shoulders but the butterfly pin in his pocket pokes at his skin.

The group chat with the team has signified that he’s the last one who hadn’t given his gift yet. He can’t seem to find the time to pull you aside and he can’t find the courage to waltz into your classroom looking for you.

Meet me after classes, near the garden shed.

You reread the text just to make sure that it was correct. A part of you thought maybe his text was a joke meant to leave you hanging outside in the cold but as you near, you can clearly see his tall figure. His back is to you, he’s kicking the snow on the ground, it’s freezing and you’re jogging slightly to reach him.

“Hey.”

He whips around at your voice. His nose is red, trying to hide himself in his scarf. His eyes fall to your hands, you still have the bag but you’re making sure that the side that has his name doesn’t show. His hands are dug into his pockets, he’s twirling the butterfly pin.

“Atsumu?” Your voice shakes him, your eyes wide and just waiting for him to say something, anything.

Snow begins to fall, you look up, your hand lifted to catch the snowflakes that melts immediately in your palm.

“I.” Atsumu can’t find his next words because as you look at him, his heart is pounding in his chest. His eyes are falling and he catches the faint red thread on your skirt; he was sure you had thrown the skirt out, he recalls you telling Osamu that you had ordered a new skirt, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” You lean in, “What?”

Atsumu’s clenching the butterfly pin. He’s remembering every moment he’s ever had with you, all the hair pulling, all the nasty words, all the dirty tricks, “I said I’m sorry.” His lips are chapped, cheeks turning red from the cold, or maybe from the way he feels his heartrate accelerating, “Okay?”

You’re confused, “Did something happen? Did you get into a fight with Osamu again?”

Osamu, Osamu, Osamu. Is that all the two of you will ever talk about? Is that the only topic of common ground that you had with him? Osamu this, Osamu that.

“No.” He presses his thumb on the hairpin, “Whatever.” He sighs, his hands are removed from his pockets, in his palm you stare at the pin, “Happy Valentine’s day loser.”

Your finger brushes against his skin and you stare with wonder at the butterfly pin you recall bawling to your parents for losing, “Where’d you find this?” You’re smiling, for the first time, you’re giving him a smile.

“It’s not really important where I found it.” It sat on his dresser for years, some days he forgot it was there, other days he stared at it when getting dressed.

You’re giggling with glee, you’re pushing the hairpin to pull back strands of your hair, it’s bright blue jewels contrast against the falling of snow. The pin rests above your ear, Atsumu stares in awe. A snowball smacks against his neck, it jolts Atsumu out of his trance and he’s alarmingly looking around.

“What are you doing?!” Osamu screams from a distance, Suna’s phone out had captured the accurate shot.

“Goddamit Samu!” Atsumu screams, the cold torturing his skin. Atsumu quickly forms a snowball, you scream when another snowball hits Atsumu’s side, it exploded and struck you as collateral.

Atsumu chucks the snowball at his brother, though he tried to run, Osamu was hit straight in the face. You let out a gasp in unison with Atsumu, Osamu is building another snowball and just as he’s about to throw, Atsumu grips you by the arms, putting you in front of him.

“Tsumu! No!” You screech.

His stomach jitters, you called him by his nickname. Osamu chucks the snowball and to protect your face, you turn in Atsumu’s hands, your fingers clinging to his jacket and you’re laughing. God, you’re laughing with him.

The snowball sends you forward, your cheek pressed against his chest, your laughter vibrates onto his skin. He’s burning, he’s hot, he’s sweating. He’s suddenly gulping, thirsty, aching to drink something. Another snowball is thrown, this time it hits him in the shoulder.

“Don’t use y/n as a shield, ya dickhead!” Osamu is approaching, this time he nears with a snowball in his hand.

You’re just realizing now that you’re exposed legs are freezing. You shiver into Atsumu briefly before pulling away from him. You escape from his grasp to skip over to Suna. You’re clinging to Suna’s arm, teeth chattering, and you watch through Suna’s phone as Osamu smacks the snowball into his brother’s face. Of course, this causes Atsumu to tackle Osamu; Suna stops the recording.

“I got like ten million videos of them rolling on the floor.”

Atsumu ruffles his hair, he’s looking in the mirror to make sure all the dirt and snow mixture is out. Osamu approaches next to him, running his hand under the water. They don’t meet gazes but as they stare into their own reflections, it was like they were looking right at each other.

“Don’t do it.�� Osamu states. He’s pulled one of the paper towels, wiping his hands as he doesn’t break eye contact with his reflection, “Don’t go acting like you loved her this entire time. You treated her like shit and now suddenly you think you’re in love.”

Atsumu feels guilt build up in the pit of his stomach. Osamu leaves the bathroom, leaving Atsumu to grip onto the sink. The feeling of you pressed against his chest makes blue butterflies swirl in his abdomen. He shoves the feeling down, he tucks it into the back of his heart, he puts you on the back burner.

His cell rings, Suna’s text tells him that everyone has decided to head to the gym first. He takes the time to wipe his hands, throwing the paper towel into the trash, he spots a brown paper bag next to the door of the bathroom. His name is scribbled on the side in your handwriting.

Atsumu got cookies, a volleyball keychain with his name etched into it, and a card. He sits in the bathroom, card in between his fingers, streaks of tears down his cheek while he stuffs the cookies into his mouth.

Thank you for helping me that one day with my skirt. I was going to buy a new one but then cancelled the order since I’ll be graduating any way. I never did get to thank you so I’m doing it now.

The card continues with a different colored pen.

I love the butterfly hairpin, thank you for finding it. I hope that we can become friends.

Atsumu heavily breathes, you were so nice, for someone like him, you were incredibly nice. You were so nice his heart was clenching and somewhere in the world, blue butterflies are flapping their wings.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #hq scenarios #hq atsumu

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flowerwrites06 · 4 years

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break my mind’s eye IV — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Three days passed since their reconciliation and it felt as if the layer of ice around them finally melted into a somewhat comforting warmth. Mornings rose with an innocent conversation on their jobs except Jungkook tried to keep things discreet while they were eating. Nights ended in peaceful slumber, on the few occasions where Belle would sleep on his chest or Jungkook hugged her from behind.

The heavy pit in her stomach elated soon after a couple of decent sleeps. Especially now that the designing process for the Spring Line was almost over. Madame Saitos’ dresses were incredibly rare because each piece of clothing was handmade save for a few trips on the sewing machine. Which is why the designing process comes with a time restraint to ensure that the most raw ideas spewed onto the paper. Of course tweaks here and there would always be required but that time limit created some of Saito’s most prestigious fashion museum worthy designs.

Since Belle designed around half of the finalized line, she would handmake her own designs and the news alone could keep her happy for the rest of the year. After losing an opportunity to see her designs on the runway a tear almost jerked in her eye getting that chance again.

Secretly though her favourite design she made this month was the satin white suit for her ever fashionably selective ‘boyfriend’. Belle saw the kind of suits in his wardrobe, burgundy velvet, black with golden vectors, silk deep blue and over half of them were Saitos’ original designs. She knew that this suit had to match the standard of his entire wardrobe.

This morning Belle stood in front of an ironing board, briefly smoothing out the textures of the newly designed trouser ensuring that minimal pressure was placed. Glasses slightly slipped down her nose with her hair in a loose bun. Her body draped in a fitted black long sleeve tucked into a khaki green midi skirt and a short scarf tied around her neck.

The woman had enough time out of her work schedule to showcase the suit himself. Especially since ‘Jeon Jungkook preferred private deliveries’ as Saito would say with a playful roll of her eyes.

From what she observed Jungkook came back to the mansion for a lunch time refresh and almost right on the minute, the sound of a car stopping rung in her ears. Something fluttered in her heart knowing whose footsteps grew louder as the corner of her lips curled up when the familiar male showed himself, a small smile directed towards her.

Jungkook muttered a few words about the car to one of the guards before walking towards her while the pants now laid out on the ironing board neatly. “You’re working at home?” Hands dug into his pockets, eyes flickered down to the soft white pants.

Belle smiled with a bright glint in her gaze before turning around and grabbing the open box. “I wanted to give it you properly but—” Partially bandaged fingers hovered over the fabric of the freshly ironed jacket folded with care inside the box. “Do you want to try it?”

Something jolted inside him seeing the woman look over at him that he couldn’t quite describe in any sentence. But he nodded nonetheless. Shrugging off his own blazer, Jungkook kept a close eye on the graceful way she brought the long back suit out displaying it in front of him first. The corners of his lips instantly curled seeing the familiar winged design on the back, similar color to the whole suit except it had a sheen like texture that glistened when brought into the light. A design that resembled one animal he admired the most next to dogs. “Phoenix wings?”

The girl nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah. It’s the first time I’m making a suit for you so–I wanted it to be personal.”

Her voice had turned so sweet in the past few days that Jungkook could melt by the sound at this point.

Belle walked closer and draped the blazer around him, letting his arms into the sleeves before it perfectly lay on his shoulders. As distracting as the measuring session was the woman managed to make the fitting as close as possible. “Is it comfortable?” When the male agreed, she felt a sense of accomplishment burst through her. Saito had her make and mend suits all the time when she was not named a ‘designer’ but somehow knowing this one was done well allowed for a tiny celebration in her belly.

Jungkook watched her beautiful eyes light up, that strange jolt sparking inside him again which he ignored for the time being. “I want to give you something too.” He glanced down at the magnificent blazer before looking up at her.

“What is it?” Belle watched him carefully shrug off the suit so the entire outfit could be placed neatly for the event it’s meant for.

Gentle hand wrapped around hers, Jungkook led her upstairs to their shared bedroom.

Once they reached the area Belle was made to wait on the bed while the male rushed into the walk-in wardrobe. The only thing she could make out properly were the sounds of rummaging through clothes and slight slamming of something wooden. Then his figure appeared again holding a small deep red velvet box in his hand. As soon as her eyes reached the object, her heart hammered before her mind could even catch up. It didn’t take an expert to assume what might lay inside the box as she had seen many like it for one particular occasion.

“I know it looks daunting.” Jungkook reassured as if sensing the thoughts rushing inside her mind. “A lot of deals tend to have paper contracts which we will get at some point.” He padded closer before kneeling down completely in front of her while she sat on the edge, his arms brushing against her knees. “But for now—I want to give you this. As a promise that I’ll never pull the rug from under you…ever. This agreement is as solid as the pillars of this mansion. Nothing will ever happen to it.”

Like a thin paper ripped out from her eyes Belle faced her true reality staring down at the now open box, showcasing a glimmering diamond ring. Growing up the woman had been one of those people who believed marriage was a sacred bond. A promise that two people would stay loyally and happily together till the end of their comforting days. Jungkook showed no sign of being disloyal nor did Belle feel any deep sense of unhappiness in these few days. Looking at the truth behind the veil seemed naïve in this situation knowing it would only make their ordeal miserable all over again. She couldn’t afford to be miserable now. Taehyung was getting better, taking his medicine and moving to become a better man and she had to stay strong to ensure that happened. He deserved to come out happier from all this just as much as she did.

So she smiled down at the male seeing a comforting shine in the ring now. Perhaps a sign of hope rather than some sensationalized sacred bond. “Which finger should I put it on?”

Jungkook chuckled, pulling the ring out and gently taking her left hand. In no manner of hesitation the ring was softly placed on her fourth finger fitted to near perfection. “I borrowed one of your rings to get the fit.”

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered. Her hand absentmindedly reached out to caress the skin under his white collar feeling a slight warmth. Leaning in, Belle pressed a tender kiss just on the corner of his lips before pulling away.

His breath choked in his damn throat feeling her soft lips; his hands almost wanting to caress every inch of her skin and forget about the rest of the days’ work. Though Jungkook respected that Belle understood they couldn’t. No matter how amazing the idea sounded. He merely let out a slightly shaky sigh before giving the beauty a smile. Unfortunately he had to look back at the watch knowing there was a meeting looming in the next half hour almost leaving an empty feeling in his gut. “I have to go back to work.”

Belle nodded, snapping herself back to reality. “I have to go too.”

Hesitantly unlocking their joined hands they both went to their separate locations for the rest of the work-day.

Another two days went by in a blissful rush as Jungkook and Belle grew friendlier towards each other to the point where they would even share laughter through jokes from work or childhood life. Belle found out that his mother worked at a magazine company in Beijing while his father ran the investment companies in the US. They were very hands-off parents when he was growing up so his aunt practically adopted and raised him which is why his personality differed greatly from his father. Though his tactics in this business were heavily influenced by him.

Jungkook discovered her parents had been more fond of a son than a daughter so she had to jump through a lot more hoops to be good in their eyes. Eventually it never worked, Taehyung took care of her most of her life so far. That is until her parents were killed in an accidental explosion at their place of work which led to her older brothers’ downfall. Belle’s uncle and aunt tried to take care of him from time to time while she worked at the boutique until at some point they grew tired of babysitting a drug addict.

The two never really had a person to truly share mixed feelings about their upbringing. Even if Belle had Taehyung, he would always somehow reel back and tell her that their parents loved them both equally. Which she knew fully well was not true no matter how much it felt comforting to believe it.

Though the deep conversations usually faded back into playful serenity again now more comfortable with each other’s presence than ever before.

In came the day of the garden party.

Belle dressed herself in a baby blue midi dress, the overlay adorned with the same colored flowers on a sheer material trailing down to touch her knees, crème colored hat to finish it off. The second event she was going to with Jungkook but this time no sense of dread passed through her nor any stress. In fact the woman wanted to see Jungkooks’ aunt wearing the gorgeous dress she chose for the occasion. And Jungkook wearing his own custom made suit.

A similar routine where she walked down the stairs while the white-suited male gave some instructions to the guards possibly about keeping an eye on the mansion while they were away. Then he turned to face her once she reached the center of the living room, a soft smile immediately tugging at the corner of her lips.

The extremely aware corner of her mind now buried itself under all the elation developed through the past few days. Some part already knew that this was a ruse. Jungkook was successfully gaining everything he asked for without barely lifting a finger and Belle truly had no valid choice to disagree. Though if that thought swirled around in her head for too long, it would start aching and this whole experience could fade into torture again.

Perhaps there was a comfort in pretending that his hand intertwined with hers radiated comfort rather than entrapment. The guards bowing to them and leading them into the car showed a sign of protection rather than no means of escape. Jungkook might think the woman a pawn but that did not mean she was one.

From where she sat in the car shoulder pressed to him and hands still linked, Belle imagined herself to sit at the far end of the chess board rather than the front as a mere pawn.

Once they reached the garden party the couple was welcomed with a vibrant burst of nature, people in colorful dress and bright suits floating through the bushes like pixies. Occasionally a photographer or two flashed their camera towards them but hardly anything intimidating like the previous event. Eyes almost immediately flickered over to them when they walked out of the car. Holding Jungkooks’ hand actually provided some kind of comfort knowing she was not alone and exposed to all these people.

Bushes shaped to represent different safari animals, crowds of pink, white and red roses all around coupled with fragrant jasmines and chrysanthemums. The garden looked almost endless from the sides. Belle noticed the large cherry and peach blossoms, little petals falling gracefully and a gorgeous mansion to pull the whole picture together. The building adorned a taupe sandstone with golden detailing similar to Jungkooks’ estate except aged a bit more.

“Darlings!” Boyoungs’ voice rung in her ears as the woman bounced towards the couple wearing a royal purple midi dress with some matching wrist gloves and a floral hat to top it off. Purple tinted lips stretched out in a bright smile, hugging the both of them with the same enthusiasm.

The older female led them to the main table where her husband sat with a few other family friends who welcomed her with an intrigued smile. Sitting under the shade of the laced line umbrella provided some cool away from the warm sun while they were served tea.

Boyoungs’ eyes immediately flickered towards the shining diamond around Belle’s finger and a small gasp caught in her throat. “Oh you proposed!” Her announcement ripped through the entire group and onto a few others outside of the umbrella as a rush of cheer passed on like a infection.

Belle merely smiled with her gaze fixed on the rose tea while Jungkook chuckled nervously. She hoped they would not ask for a romantic proposal story but they all seemed to just pat the young male on the back. Some of the ladies asked what kind of cut it was which the girl gave an answer from observation. It didn’t take long for her to realize that most of these people were probably arranged to marry. So the idea of any romantic story would be useless to them even though Belle and Jungkook were supposed to be a ‘love’ marriage.

Somehow the lack of her own froufrou story made it easier and harder to sit at the table. Belle politely listened to stories of awkward marriage arrangement along with an attempt to sound less hostile towards each other. For a minute she prided in being so good at pretending that her marriage was happy and full of light.

Though the pretense became exhausting really quickly. Her posture began to falter as her rose tea reached the end of its fill and the shade from the sun created cloud over her mind.

“Excuse me.” Belle spoke as gently as she could to the crowd. “I’m going to take a stroll.” She smiled getting up from the chair, chest feeling a little constricted.

Jungkook watched her in slight concern when she excused herself. Truthfully nothing about this conversation comforted him either. The whole idea of marriage, especially one that came from a business arrangement didn’t spark happy stories and it was a situation that some attendees at the table could relate to. The only thing he could do as a sign of comfort was touch her hand lightly which she squeezed in response before he watched her walk deeper into the gardens.

A couple of minutes passed and Jungkook grew tired of the conversations bubbling between his family friends so his eyes wandered to other attendees. Eventually his eyes set on one particular male, simple black suit with a silver necklace around his neck and blue lens glasses over his eyes.

Excusing himself from the table politely, he walked over to where the other male had been examining the jasmines. A few colorful pixies rolled in front of him and giggled when he gave them way until finally he was able to come close to a more reassuring face. Well second most reassuring to the one that just glazed through the gardens on her own.

“Didn’t know you were so fond of nature.” Jungkook smirked standing next to him.

“Well a lot of my supplies come from plants.” He shrugged, eyes merely scanning over the flowers and trees not really focusing on anything in particular.

“Technically they’re my supplies but sure.” He dug his hands into his jacket pockets, attention trailing and silently searching for a familiar blue dress. “Anything to report?” It was a regular, almost absentminded question at this point whenever he saw the male since he was responsible for most of the sells around this area.

Hoseok took a generous sip of tea before wincing as he stared at the decorative cup. “Rose tea tastes like piss.” He cleared his throat, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Everything’s fine so far. Clients are rolling in payments from all corners, some even paid in advance to ensure secrecy.” He placed the tea cup on one of the vacant tables before looking out in the gardens again. “Except a few regulars like Kim Taehyung still hasn’t paid.”

“I told he already paid all his previous payments.” Jungkook shook his head, brows furrowing.

“What about the one the five days ago?”

The younger male had to connect the dots for a few seconds as his forehead knitted. “Five days ago? He’s been in rehab for almost a fortnight.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it’s working. I remember all my sells.” He rolled his eyes a little. “Well I kinda just give it to Taehyung instead of sell.”

“You do know I could kill you for doing things like that, right?” Anger bubbled right up to his throat except not directed towards Hoseok.

“Hey you’re the one who told me to give younger clients a break.” He defended.

“I know.” Jungkook had the strong urge to tell him that Taehyung already paid the biggest price of all strolling around the cherry blossoms. “Don’t sell it to him anymore.” He ordered simply.

“What?”

“If he asks again, send him to me. Don’t give him anything.” He seethed the last word spotting Belle now as a bright suited man walked up to her. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the familiar face even from this distance.

Hoseok stared at the male quizzically. No client ever received this kind of special treatment even to send some kind of a message. Hell if he wanted to send a message, Taehyung would have been dead in a ditch somewhere for police to scrap him off. Yet Jungkook wanted to keep the man alive for some reason. “Why—”

“Just…” Jungkook sighed trying to push his frustrations even though he wanted to explode right there and then. “…Just do as I say.” Eyes flickered back over to Belle again who was now conversing and smiling with the man causing a small twinge in his chest. “I’m trusting you to do this for me, Hobi. Alright?”

The older male still looked utterly confused but nodded nonetheless. “Of course, man. You’re the boss.” He pressed his lips together. “Now can you tell where they put the whiskey?”

Jungkook glanced around the party before leaning into him. “Ask the server with the blue flower on his breast pocket. They usually bring in secret batches for more important guests. The password is periwinkle.”

“Is that some kind of fancy slang for penis?” Hoseok winced.

He stammered already imagining Belles’ reaction to that statement being far more dramatic than his. “It’s a shade of—just go.” Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little as the male rushed to find his source of sanctuary.

Boyoung was definitely on par with the seasoning of fashion since a garden party was the absolute perfect way to create inspiration for spring design. Granted this years’ line finished in its designing process, there was no reason not to take in the sheer amount of beauty. How ethereal would those peach blossoms look on a silk kimono or chrysanthemum detailing on a wedding dress. So many colours and designs all around her Belle had the strong urge to twirl like a little child in pure happiness.

But to keep up a decent appearance she merely smiled watching the cherry blossoms fall gracefully down to the ground. Hand held out the woman managed to have one land on her palm. That was when a voice spoke from behind her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She turned around to see a man with a wisteria shaded suit and a charming plump lipped smile. His chocolate brown hair parted to the side with eyes that expressed both kindness mixed into a little intimidation. “It is.” Belle smiled at the male before glancing back at the scenery again.

He took a small step forward. “I’m Kim Seokjin.” He stated holding his hand out which the woman accepted kindly after a moments’ hesitation. “The owner of the Sangria House.”

Belle only heard a few rumors about the Sangria House much like a person who evaluated life in a brothel based on assumptions and fiction stories. From what she knew, it had the mixture of a teahouse and a brothel but that was pretty much everything. Either way she smiled knowingly trying to be polite even though the girl had no intention in admiring a neatly dressed pimp too much. “Kim Belle. Nice to meet you.”

“With the murmurs I’m hearing, it seems Kim will be turning to Jeon very soon.” Seokjin smirked, glancing over his shoulder towards the flowing pixies all over the garden.

The woman tried to maintain the smile despite her prior momentary peace in the garden now being diminished. “Maybe not that soon.” She mumbled.

“Why do you say that?”

Her heart leaped slightly, the sudden urge to just spew out her whole situation in hopes that Seokjin would never be in her line of sight again. But the woman knew better to keep quiet especially since these attendees would probably not be that helpful nor would they find her ordeal abnormal. “I have a lot of other responsibilities right now.”

“Ah yes the new and coming designer for Saito.” Seokjin nodded, gaze lowered to his feet for a moment before looking over at her again.

Belle smiled politely feeling a sense of pride towards her workplace. Saitos’ outfits were rare so it was hard hearing about them from just anyone. Except from the way this man held himself and the reputation of the Sangria House, she knew Seokjin was not just anyone.

“You know, I had been wanting to order a few new dresses from Madame Saito as a refreshed décor for my angels.” Seokjins’ request lingered in the light breezy garden. “Maybe I could personally order you as my designer.”

A chill rushed down her spine either from the breeze or the fact he said ‘my designer’. Still the woman sighed lightly and smiled. The opportunity to create a contact was a literal dream come true. But the man did not know her designs nor did he see how she worked. Which gave the unsettling assumption that Seokjin was asking on his mere personal interest just by looking at and talking to her.

“Darling!”

Belle heard a familiar voice call out as a flash of white strolled towards the two of them. Immediately a more genuine smile tugged at her lips when Jungkook stood, arm gently wrapped around her waist.

“Mr. Jeon.”

“Mr. Kim.” Jungkook’s fingers gripped at her dress for a second before smoothing it down. “I hope you don’t mind if I whisk away my lady for a minute.” It wasn’t really a question from the sound of his tone and when he was already pulling her away.

“Think about my offer, Ms. Kim.” Seokjin smirked.

Belle could only get the chance to nod before she felt herself being led off towards the mansion.

“Bit of a rushed interaction.” Belle remarked as they walked into the majestic building Jeon Boyoung called her home. Instead of crème, the mansion adorned a dark wooden interior with antique hand-painted portraits of what she assumed were ancestors of the Jeon family including a modern one of Jungkooks’ extended family. The large painting was the first thing people saw when they walked in, Jungkooks’ aunt and father sitting on chairs while their spouses and children stood on the far ends.

She could easily see the mixture between Jungkooks’ parents from his mothers’ soft round eyes and small pouty lips to his fathers’ sharp jaw and intimidating brows.

“You looked like you needed a bit of rescuing.” Jungkook replied simply with a shrug following her gaze up to the portrait.

“Oh yeah he was definitely ‘talking’ me to death.” Sarcasm seeped through her tone as she walked forward towards the wide entry hall having the strong urge to scream and see if there was an echo.

“Believe me that’s his superpower.” He tried to explain as well as keeping up with her slightly excited exploration. “Seokjin got his company to the highest ranks of the elite through his eloquence. Hell he even convinced me to invest.”

“So you invest in brothels.” Belle turned around to face him now, not really caring what he did in his work since it all could be listed down into a category of inappropriate. “Did you get good discounts?”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sangria House is not just a brothel.”

“Yes yes don’t think a girl working alone in the city hasn’t heard that before on the streets.” She raised a brow. “Let me guess…it’s a respected establishment with highly trained employees who get paid a fair wage. Did I forget to mention the highest bidder gets to take away a novices’ virginity? And the fair wage only exists if you’re a full-fledged angel. Oh and they get to wear pretty dresses.” Belle gave him an advertisement happy smile before walking carefully backwards.

“You’re telling me you’ve been recruited into Sangria House before?”

Belle shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure every person who looked unemployed enough has.”

Jungkook kept glancing behind her to check if it was safe enough to be walking like that. “Guess fate wanted you to come to this place one way or another.” He smiled.

“Ah so you did get a few investor gifts.” She turned back around walking towards the flight of stairs. “What were they like?”

His eyes trailed down her body when she bounced up the stairs feeling a quick tremble. “I’ve experienced better.” Jungkook quickly caught up to the woman and grabbed onto her hand to keep her close to him for a few more moments.

Belle smirked up at him trying to back away cheekily before her back hit the wall. “I think he had a good offer.” She muttered averting her gaze a little.

“Really?” He tilted his head placing his palm on the wall next to her head. “Do you have to wear a pretty dress to come with it?”

She playfully slapped his chest. “Not that kind of offer.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but admire her every little movement as if he would lose her if he missed a second.

“He wants me to design some dresses for his angels.”

“Are you going to agree?”

Belle shrugged soothing the place she slapped lightly. “He’s ordered from Saitos’ before so—should be a good contact.”

Jungkook only hummed in response.

“What?” The corners of her lips curled up already sensing what made the man look so uncomfortable at the prospect.

“Nothing…”

“Alright, I’ll just go back and talk to him again.”

Before Belle could prance down the stairs, Jungkook hooked his arm around her waist and pressed her back against the wall. One free arm leaned next to her head while he leaned down with a small smirk. “Everyone’s been talking to you today.” He brushed away the loose hair from her face before his arm wrapped around her again, making sure no space escaped between their bodies. “Maybe I just want you to myself for a minute.”

“I am an independent woman, Mr. Jeon.” She teased with a faint smirk. “You’re going to have to ask nicely.”

Jungkook smiled as she played with his sharp collars. “May I—please have you all to myself for a minute, Ms. Kim?”

Belle hummed, taking her hat off and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just for a minute.” She acknowledged in a whisper.

All he needed was her say and his lips magnetized onto hers, tasting the brownie she nibbled on earlier. Palms rubbed over the soft fabric of her blue dress to her bare arms and the back of her neck, sliding down to where he could feel the curve of her plush peach. Almost a week had passed since they last touched each other in this manner but Jungkook burned up so much, he could surpass a furnace. Kisses trailed down to her jawline.

Pausing on a soft patch of skin on her neck he bit onto it humming in satisfaction when she gasped lightly. Jungkook could listen to those sounds on a record player if he ever wanted to find peace when she was away. He couldn’t help her squeeze her whole body a little to ensure that this wasn’t all a dream. But the heat radiating together told no lie.

Soon frustration seeped in as the clothing around her felt too restricting causing his hand to sneak under the skirt of her dress. A satisfied sigh brushed against her lips feeling how warm her bare skin felt against his own almost lulling to a transient relaxation. Like nothing could go wrong at this moment.

“We can’t do that under a minute.” Belle giggled, noses nudging against each other as they intoxicated themselves in each other’s breathy laughter.

“I just missed touching you.” Jungkook whispered feeling his mind far too blurry to care about putting up a wall and sounded more calm about this situation. He loved feeling her against his skin. So much so that he had rub his hand up her hips, torso and breast after sneaking out of her skirt. Every crevice drove him insane.

Her core pooled at the firm brush against her body, lightly touching her nipple before he gently grabbed her by the neck. Eyes closed unable to focus on anything else in the hallway even if she tried, her lips practically parting on its own for Jungkooks’ tongue to explore her mouth once again.

“Jungkook! Belle! Aunt Boyoungs’ calling!”

Jungkook groaned under his throat making Belle chuckle at how desperate he got from a few naughty touches in their momentary privacy.

Fixing her dress to make it look proper again, the couple walked out holding hands towards the party with a new air of joy around them.

Patience had always been one of this strong suits. A trait many men of his stature lacked so when he excelled at it, respect for him shot up through the roof. So why was it that he could not keep his hands to himself whenever Belle so much as stood next to him? Merely a day passed since the garden party and Jungkook had already kissed every part of her face whenever he got his chance in the morning.

It didn’t help that the woman had a talent in noticing when someone was literally trembling to feel more of her. She got ready wearing nothing but a thin, satin robe causing her slightly plump thighs to peek out of the clothing. The man had to physically turn his head away so he could focus on putting his tie on without looking like a toddler doing it for the first time. Even then he still pecked her temple and cheek when he stood behind her.

Even when she finally left for her work, her small goodbye kiss lingered on his lips for most of the afternoon which meant he had to space out for a few seconds during meetings before finally answering any questions or making any demands.

Then a call rung in his phone while he sat in a car on his way for a check-in at the warehouse.

Hoseoks’ name appeared on the screen.

Heart sinking down to an abyss, Jungkook answered the phone. “What is it?”

A sigh passed from the other side of the phone. “He came back again. I’ve sent him to you now. He’s on the way to the mansion.” Hoseok sounded just about as helpless as Jungkook felt when the two quickly ended the call not wanting to waste any more time.

Postponing the check-in, the driver took him straight back to the mansion a little quicker than he was legally allowed to but they reached before Jungkook could groan in frustration. He wanted to get the whole situation over and done with. Dealing with client was already frustration as it were on a normal day but now more than ever he wished he didn’t throw away his pack of cigarettes already.

Not that it was his fault anyway since Taehyung decided to ruin the entire deal in less than a month.

Once inside the mansion Jungkook saw the hooded man on his knees with four guards surrounding him in front of the dormant fireplace. Shrugging off his blazer he slammed it down onto the floor before stomping over to him. He spotted the mans’ blood shot eyes and chapped lips, skin glistening in sweat. When he finally stood before him, a deafening silence lingered in the air.

This was what would have happened. Taehyung on his knees ready to accept his bloody fate for taking advantage of his long trained patience. The man had the shaking urge to continue with that plan. It almost worked until he remembered the soft linger on his lips again. “How long have you been taking it?” He asked in a grim tone.

Taehyung hung his head, lips pursing together.

“I asked you a question.” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth, feeling his final nerve being tugged at.

“Couple of days.”

“A week is not a ‘couple of days’” His fingers curled up into tight fists. “And you had the gall to ask for more? Did you even finish it all?”

“I—I didn’t ask for that much.” His voice was meek under his breath.

Jungkook scoffed turning around for a moment to catch his fiery heaving. “You didn’t ask for that much.” He repeated the statement in his own mind and felt the lava flooding past his control. When it reached the peak of the volcano, one of his fists swung across Taehyung’s face, a crunch sound touching his ears.

The male cowered on the floor, hands over his nose as blood trickled through his fingers and his eyes looked more bloodshot than before.

“This isn’t a buy and sell anymore, Taehyung!” His voice echoed throughout the walls of the mansion. “Do you even realize your little sister lives here now? Because of you!” Jungkook spat watching Taehyung struggle to get himself back up again. “You think she’s here just so you can continue scrapping drugs for free?!”

“You’re the one who made the deal in the first place!” He shrieked through his hands.

Jungkook grabbed at his hair, forcing him to look up at the male. Blood drenched him from his nose down his neck but it only angered the man further. “I only made the deal because I thought you’d do anything to make sure your sister was safe. Even if it meant facing the real world without anything numbing you out.”

“Jungkook…” He heard a familiar murmur from behind him almost making his stomach jump up to his throat. Before he could turn back to see, the floral dressed figure already padded closer to the scene, eyes flooding with tears.

Despite the ache in his heart, the male still let go of Taehyung roughly to limp back onto the floor. “Tell her.” A growl sneaked within his voice. “I want you to tell her what you did.” He gestured towards the woman.

Belle hesitantly walked and knelt down in front of her brother as he tried to get up again. Her hands held onto his shoulders just until he was on his knees as well. A sob caught in her throat seeing the blood smeared on her older brothers’ face. His blood drenched hands attempted to hold her somehow but only ended up staining her skin and some of the lighter flowers on her black background dress. “What happened?” She whispered.

Taehyung lowered his head, biting down his bottom lip to conceal a small sob.

“Tae—” A little annoyance flew straight to her head thinning her patience to near nothingness but to be the cool headed one in the volcanic pit made from the living room, she kept her voice calm. “Tae, please answer me.”

“I couldn’t—” He sniffled, gripping onto her arms. “I couldn’t do it.”

She pressed her lips together as the tears jerked out of her, streaming down her light berry colored cheeks. Immediately the woman shook her head before wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” Jungkook argued. “He had a responsibility.”

“And you made a promise.” Belle met his gaze with a subtle tremble in her tone, getting off the floor. “Addiction isn’t just going to go away.” Her voice rung soft in his ears as she padded closer to Jungkook instantly melting away most of his fury. “You could’ve done the absolute worst to me, it was still going to take time.”

His eyes twitched a little feeling the ache on his knuckles a little too prominently, desperately wishing he took a small puff of a cigarette prior to this meeting. Jungkook glared back at Taehyung who already looked like he was going to pass out from the one punch before he looked at Belle. Everything felt so much better in these few days. He saw her smiling more often and playing around that now watching her face drenched in tears and her neck streaked with blood made his chest clench in immense pain. “He’s going to stay here from now on.” He declared struggling to keep his voice steady. “We’ll have nurses and guards looking after him until he gets better. There’s no chance of him sneaking out anywhere.”

Belle watched the male gesture towards his guards who grabbed Taehyung firmly and led him towards another room through the hall next to the bar. Silence plunged back into the room as the woman tried to meet Jungkooks’ gaze again. Even if she tried to form them, no words managed come out of her. She did not know whether to be thankful or just more exhausted about this whole ordeal; the ring around her finger now felt heavier than ever.

Jungkook walked towards the bar. With a loud sigh, the male practically threw a glass onto the table before roughly pouring some golden liquid to the brim and taking a generous swig.

In small hesitant steps she stood behind the counter. Grabbing a cloth and drenching it under a tap, Belle wiped off any residue of blood on her neck and arm.

“How’re you so calm about this?” Jungkook asked solemnly.

Who knew that simple question could cause a thick lump in her throat. “I’m not calm.” Fresh tears gathered at the brim of her eyes while she cleaned out the towel again. “I’m just tired.” She sniffled feeling an invisible but heavy weight on her shoulders that she couldn’t get rid of even if she wanted to. “Really tired.”

Jungkook watched her from over his shoulder trying to drink another sip to get rid of that ache in his chest again. A few maids walked out of Taehyungs’ new room with some old sheets and bloody cloth, bowing to the two of them quickly before excusing themselves. Once the room only consisted of them, he pulled out another empty glass.

“I don’t drink.” Belle muttered, standing next to the male in front of the counter.

He turned back towards the small fridge behind them and reached inside for a plastic bottle with some red liquid inside. “You like cranberry juice?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation. The right corner of her lip twitched a little as Jungkook filled her glass up halfway. “Thank you.” She whispered, gently holding the crystal before taking a shy sip.

Jungkook sighed leaning on his elbows against the table, eyes scanning the now empty living room. “I’m really tired too.” He murmured. “It’s not really 9 to 5 job like it looks, you have to—mold it with your personal life and let it run you until finally…” He held up his glass. “This kills you… Fun old life, isn’t it? Violence, alcohol and—”

“Sex.”

“Not really getting much of that lately.”

“Don’t expect it tonight either.” Belle took a more generous sip. “Maybe next time beat people up in a warehouse like all the normal crime lords.” She gestured towards the empty space in the living room. “That was the second time.”

He looked at the empty space again with an added annoyance before hanging his head, scoffing. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”

She had a tiny smirk curled up her lips before leaning to press a warm kiss on his cheek. “That’s what you get for punching my brother.” She whispered. “Too bad though.” Belle looked down at her outfit. “I really wanted to show you something.”

Jungkooks’ eyes immediately trailed down her form again, fingers twitching. “Showing me something isn’t technically sex.”

“Nice try.” Belle patted his back before leaving him in own heated mess to go upstairs. “Good night, Mr. Jeon.”

Once again he was left watching the beauty walk away from him and all he could do was take in every inch of her body and every strand of her hair until it drove him mad. If the alcohol didn’t kill him, she might just.

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts mafia au #jungkook mafia au

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

we’re just like kevin bacon!

prompt: for @bricksatanakinswindow ‘s halloween writing challenge! this was initially inspired by "mortal enemies accidentally showing up in matching costumes every fucking year" but once i started writing it kind of snowballed from there and i ended up with this lmao

ship: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k+ (i think this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written lol)

warnings n stuff: childhood enemies to lovers, swearing, mention of underage drinking, halloween shenanigans, makin' out, smut (not too explicit but i still think it's spicy enough to need an 18+ warning), jj and the reader being cute lil nerds and quoting movies back and forth, the author blatantly using some of her personal favorite movies/shows as inspiration for costumes, the author also making her opinions on ghostbusters clear (instead of the human trash can peter venkman, stan the adorable dork known as ray stantz for clear skin)

a/n: this was hella fun to write and i already have so many more halloween fic ideas bouncing around in my head (it's spoopy season, y'all!). title of this fic comes from guardians of the galaxy 😊

Of three things in life you were certain.

One, you loved Halloween more than any other holiday of the year; after all, you and your twin brother Mason were born just after one AM on October 31st so you could say a penchant for all things spooky was in your blood.

Two, Sarah Cameron was your best friend. Being neighbors your whole lives, the two of you were thick as thieves and spent almost every day together, much to the annoyance of both your brother and hers; as much as you loved Mason, sometimes you wished Sarah was your twin instead of him and you knew without question the blonde girl would trade Rafe for you in a heartbeat (with little to no guilt, in fact.).

And three, you absolutely hated JJ Maybank. You'd been at the top of each other's shit lists ever since you were both six years old, when he made fun of you for the stutter you'd had back then and you dumped a full milkshake over his head as payback, and even as time passed and you grew out of your stutter, your disdain for the blond pogue only grew stronger. He was infuriating, plain and simple, and the mere mention of his name made steam come out of your ears.

The boy was just good at being annoying and seemed to love pushing everyone's buttons, yours especially, and always found ways to get under your skin without fail every single time your paths crossed (which was way too often for your liking, but running in the same friend group made it hard to avoid each other). It became an unspoken thing, the great Y/L/N-Maybank feud, with both of you trying your hardest to piss the other off until one of your mutual friends or your brother broke it up and pulled you to opposite corners of the metaphorical ring to take a breather before the next round.

You'd never admit it but deep down you kind of liked it. You liked being at the center of his attention (granted, it was antagonistic in nature but it was attention all the same), his bright blue eyes following your every move whenever you were within his sights and you liked that you were in his thoughts even when you weren't around, a fact proven to you by the tiny notebook Kiara carried around in her pocket recording how many times he mentioned your name. Knowing you lived rent free in his mind brought you an embarrassingly high level of satisfaction that you'd absolutely deny feeling if anyone ever asked, just as you'd deny the fact that he lived rent free in your mind, too.

...At least for most of the year. Everyone, including JJ, knew that to you Halloween was a damn-near sacred time. He knew never to mess with you during the weeks leading up to the holiday and definitely never on the day itself, lest he want yet another milkshake dumped over his blond head. He knew that, the whole damn island knew he did and yet...somehow, some way, he managed to get your blood boiling every. single. year. And you, like a masochistic idiot, let him.

It all started when you were twelve.

You, Mason, and your friends were finally old enough to go to the annual youth party held on the sprawling lawn of the Island Club, an event you'd been looking forward to attending every Halloween since you were eight. Of course, you were excited for the dancing and games and food but the thing you couldn't wait the most for was the costume contest, a chance to show off your skills and prove to everyone on the island that Y/N Y/L/N was the undisputed queen of Halloween.

So what if your hopes were a little too high (considering you were only twelve and going up against kids ranging from your age to fifteen), you were still gonna give it your all; you spent weeks perfecting not only your costume but your brother's as well with your mom, helping her cut fabric and sew zippers, styling wigs and painting props until everything was perfect.

"Oh my God, Y/N!" Sarah, dressed as Cinderella, yelled from the passenger seat of her dad's SUV when they swung by to pick you up. "You look amazing!"

"So do you!" You said, slipping into the back seat in between a miserable-looking Rafe as Sarah Sanderson ("I lost a bet," he explained with a scowl) and Mason, holding your mini R2-D2 on your lap. Was it kind of cheesy, dressing up as the most iconic twins in movie history? Probably, but you really didn't care because Leia Organa was a total boss bitch and Mason was practically over the moon that he got to be his ultimate silver screen hero and swing around his very own lightsaber as Luke Skywalker.

"The Force is strong with you two." Ward joked, earning an eye roll from both of his children as he drove to the Island Club to drop you off. Rafe immediately disappeared into the crowd to meet up with Topper and Kelce and the three of you went off to find your own friends, skirting around the edge of the party toward the snack tables, also known as the most likely place for them to be.

You spotted Kiara first, looking like an actual princess in her Tiana costume and waved, smiling when she waved back and beckoned you over as she said something to Pope, dressed as Albert Einstein, that made him start laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" You asked, reaching between them to grab two handfuls of pretzels and immediately dropping one into your brother's outstretched palm, careful to keep the sleeve of your white dress away from the bright orange-iced cupcakes on the table.

The two of them exchanged a look that instantly made you realize something was Up™ but before either of them could answer, Mason asked around a mouthful of pretzels, "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

"J, why didn't we think of that?" John B's voice came from somewhere over your shoulder and when you turned to face him, you nearly dropped both the droid cradled in the crook of your elbow and the snacks in your hand. Not because of John B and his hilarious Chewbacca costume but because of the fact that JJ Maybank, the one person you hated the most on the whole entire island, was dressed as Han freakin' Solo.

"Yikes." Someone muttered behind you -it sounded like Sarah but you weren't really sure- and Mason nearly choked on his pretzels as he tried and failed miserably to keep himself from laughing.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You huffed, rolling your eyes as JJ crossed his arms and glared in your direction, blaster hanging from the holster on his hip.

"Listen, Princess, I'm not too happy about this, either."

"Oh, shut up, you nerfherder."

"Who you calling-" Mason and John B cut in and pulled you both in opposite directions before either of you could turn it into a shouting match, your brother physically grabbing you around the waist and carrying you off while the latter caught the back of JJ's vest and dragged him away. Despite their best efforts to keep you apart, you ran into each other more times than you could count and spent a minute or two squabbling like cats and dogs each time until one of them intervened once again. It was childish, it was immature, and it was fun, even though you'd never, ever admit it. Ever.

You didn't win the costume contest that year in the way you'd imagined at all. Still, first place in the group category was a win in your book and it felt good, even if one of the members of your unintentional Star Wars posse was someone who tested every bit of patience you had. The four of you split the cash prize and you went home 25 bucks richer, stashing it away for next year's costume and pushing the thought of accidentally matching with your mortal enemy from your mind.

You had no idea this thing was only just beginning.

The next year, you let Sarah and Kiara convince you to match with them and the three of you rolled up to the party as the Pink Ladies -you as Rizzo, Sarah as Sandy, Kiara as Frenchy- only to run right into the boys, your brother included, dressed as the T-Birds. John B, perfectly in character as Danny, immediately whisked Sarah off to dance while Pope, the most adorably awkward Doody you'd ever seen, went to grab some snacks with Kiara, leaving you stuck with the bane of your existence as, of course, fucking Kenickie (Mason, as Sonny, dipped sometime before then without you noticing). The two of you spent the whole evening glaring at each other and hurling insults back and forth at breakneck speed, more in character than either of you'd ever want to acknowledge and for the second year in a row, you won first place in the group costume category.

At fourteen, you went as Princess Buttercup and JJ showed up as Westley, fake sword in hand as he followed you around all night like an annoying fly, sarcastically drawling "as you wish" every time you so much as glanced in his direction. Your brother, dressed as Inigo Montoya, nearly pissed himself laughing and you wanted to snatch both of their prop swords and shove them up their asses. You came in first again in the group costume contest and begrudgingly split the prize three ways.

At fifteen, you worked hard on a Dr. Ellie Sattler costume from Jurassic Park, he strolled in as a disheveled Dr. Alan Grant with mud splattered boots and tattered clothes, and you really regretted not taking the offer to be the Tai to Sarah's Cher and Kiara's Dionne. Once again, Mason laughed so hard his face turned red and you were tempted to grab the sword he was holding and beat him over the head with it, not just for laughing at you but also for the completely atrocious Jack Sparrow costume he wore. To your absolute horror, you and JJ won the contest in the duo category and you wanted to melt into the ground when they called you onto the makeshift stage to collect your reward.

When you were sixteen, you and your friends "graduated" to the party held for the older teens inside the club itself. With costume rules a little more lax than they were for the younger kids, you decided to go as (an only slightly sexy) Janine Melnitz, complete with a prop telephone you answered every so often with a loud "Ghostbusters, whaddya want?!" much to the embarrassment of Mason, who was once again dressed as Luke Skywalker, this time in the fatigues he wore while training on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back.

You strutted into the party in your heels and pencil skirt only to nearly fall flat on your face when you caught sight of JJ in a terrible black wig and glasses, proton pack strapped to his back and 'Spengler' printed on the front of his jumpsuit. Your brother winced when you all but screeched "Again?!" right into his ear and grabbed your elbow, dragging you over to an empty table and depositing you into an open chair.

"There's no way this is a coincidence anymore! He could've picked Venkman, with all the womanizing and lowkey being a creep and thinking he's God's gift to mankind? It would've been the perfect choice! He's not nearly adorable or dorky enough to be Stantz or sassy enough to be Winston-"

"Jesus, you have a lot of feelings about Ghostbusters," Mason muttered, rolling his eyes when you shot him a withering glare.

"Shut up! Listen to me, there's no way in hell Maybank randomly decided to be, out of alllll the 'Busters, Egon fuckin' Spengler, okay? He had to have somehow known I was coming as Janine and did it just to piss me off!"

Your brother heaved a deep, heavy sigh that made you want to smack him and fixed you with a deadpan stare. "Or, have you pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to think that maybe you're just becoming...predictable?"

You really did smack him then, hard on his exposed shoulder and he yelped, scowling as he rubbed at the red mark you left behind. "Ow! What the hell, bitch?!"

"Don't you dare call me predictable, you dickhead! I pride myself on my costumes being very unique and unexpected -you know, out of the box!"

"Hate to break it to you but they're not really out of the box if Maybank shows up in a matching one every single year." He said with an infuriating, shit-eating grin, patting your shoulder before straightening the plush Yoda strapped to his back. "I'm gonna go get some food, wanna come with?"

Still miffed at his comment, you shoved his arm away and glanced down at your lap, ignoring your brother's sassy "your loss" as he headed toward the snack tables. Not even a minute passed by before his empty seat was taken and you groaned when you looked up to see who it was, your eyes meeting a pair of bright blues behind tacky, oversized glasses.

"Hi, Janine."

"...Egon."

The two of you sat in silence after that, watching the dancing crowd under the flashing neon lights and sparkling disco ball until you saw him turn to face you out of the corner of your eye.

"Why Janine?"

"Huh?" You turned to face him, too, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch as he gestured toward your costume.

"Why did you dress up as Janine, Y/L/N?"

"I've always liked her sassiness and 'I like to play racquetball.'" You offered a casual shrug of your shoulders and carefully stuck a finger under your wig to scratch an annoying itch above your ear. "Why'd you pick Egon, Maybank?"

"He's my favorite." He answered simply with his own shrug, shooting you a genuine, real smile that you, for who knows what reason, found yourself returning without a second thought. "Smart, hilarious -plus, 'I like to collect spores, mold, and fungus.'"

For the first time in your life, your eyes rolled out of amusement and not annoyance at something that JJ Maybank said and, to your complete surprise, it kind of felt...right. "Really? I'd have pegged you for a Venkman stan."

"Are you kidding? He's the worst!"

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you'd sit across from your hated enemy, not only having a civil -hell, downright enjoyable- conversation but actually smiling right along with him, laughing at his jokes and doing your best to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach each time you caught sight of his slightly crooked teeth when he grinned. You didn't even notice when your brother returned with Kiara, dressed as Moana, at his side and two heaping plates of snacks in his hands until his chair scraped gratingly across the hardwood floor.

"Kie, are you seeing this? Pigs must be flying 'cause they're actually smiling at each other." Mason said, cackling as Kiara turned to squint out the window.

"Yeah, I think I see one or two soaring around out there." She giggled and sent a mischievous wink in your direction. With your face feeling like it was on fire, you flipped them both the bird and took off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving all your traitorous, confusing thoughts about JJ behind with the boy himself; it was Rafe's last party at the Club and he owed you a dance anyway, but even as your best friend's older brother, cute as hell in his Thor costume, playfully twirled you around the floor to the Ghostbusters theme song, you felt more than your partner's blue eyes on you.

To no one's surprise, you and JJ won the duo category for the second year in a row and when you joined him onstage to collect your prize and didn't feel like you'd rather die than be up there by his side, you suddenly realized you were only certain about two things in life instead of three.

At seventeen, you were confident you and JJ wouldn't be matching for once (after last year, though, you were kind of thinking it wouldn't be that bad of a thing). You'd gone cult classic for your costume, pulling inspiration from your mom's favorite move, 1999's The Mummy, and put together a screen-accurate Evelyn Carnahan in her iconic black dress, including a handmade Book of the Dead and matching key. You blackmailed Mason with pictures of him, drunk as a skunk and dressed in your Janine costume from the previous year, and got him to go as Jonathan, complete with a pith helmet and prop bottle of The Glenlivet.

But, as always, JJ managed to surprise you. You literally ran right into his chest and if it wasn't for his arms instantly wrapping tight around your waist, you would've bit it hard.

"Whoa, careful there," He said, one hand keeping you close while the other moved to help you hold the book in your arms. "'The Book of the Dead? Are you sure you wanna be messing around with this thing?'"

Of course he'd make the perfect Rick O'Connell, you thought as you playfully raised one eyebrow and curled your fingers around the strap of the gun holster draped over his shoulder. "'It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a book.'"

Mason was a little too in character as well as he dramatically rolled his eyes and wandered off, muttering "puh-lease" under his breath and shooting Sarah a conspiratorial wink that you didn't see. The blonde girl glanced between the two of you -arms still around each other and identical smiles on your faces- and grinned. The party flew by in a blur of movie quotes, laughs, and more dances than you could count and by the time you made it home, 50 bucks in the pocket of your dress and another group costume win under your belt, you were almost positive you never actually hated JJ Maybank in the first place.

Now at eighteen, you pulled out all the stops for your last party at the Island Club. You'd spent the last few months slaving over your costume, sewing custom pieces, hand-crafting your prop, and spending way too much money on body makeup and a wig but when you saw the final product in the mirror, you knew it was all worth it. You were ready to slay the competition this year and take home first place for the final time.

Mason, indifferent as always about the contest but willing to do anything to keep those pictures from seeing the light of day, didn't protest one bit when you forced him into the matching costume you'd made for him -in typical Mason fashion, he liked that he didn't have to wear a shirt and could show off his muscles- and spent a few hours perfecting his makeup.

You felt on top of the world when you walked into the party that night as Gamora, a replica of her Godslayer sword in hand and skin painted a perfect shade of green, followed by your brother as Drax, already flexing for anyone and everyone looking his way. The rest of your friends came to win as well: John B and Sarah as Flynn Rider and Rapunzel, Kiara as Eleven, Pope as T'Challa, and, of course, JJ as Peter Quill, Baby Groot perched on his shoulder and twin blasters at his hips.

"Lookin' good, Gamora!" He called over the music, shimmying his way over to you with some dance moves that would impress Star-Lord himself.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Quill." You replied in a sing-song voice, even as you took his outstretched hand and let him pull you into the crowd of bodies hopping up and down to some terrible EDM beat under the twirling disco ball.

"It got you out here with me, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes and hooked the sword to your belt before stepping closer and draping your arms around his neck, twirling your painted fingers in his hair. "Just remember, 'I know who you are, Peter Quill. And I'm not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your pelvic sorcery.'"

You should've known you spoke too soon the second you saw the spark in JJ's eyes that all but screamed 'wanna bet?'

And that's how you found yourself in the middle of the single hottest make out session you'd ever had the pleasure of participating in an hour later: back pressed against the locked door of someone's deserted office, legs wrapped tight around his waist and his hands hooked under your ass, both your sword and his blasters abandoned on the floor at his feet, and he was either a sinfully good kisser or trying really, really hard to blow your mind.

"I'm not gonna end up green after this, am I?" He mumbled against your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw and you breathed a laugh, tightening your grip on his hair.

"This is professional makeup, dumbass. It's gonna take more than some kissing to smudge it."

"I'm down for some smudging if you are."

You pulled him back for another kiss in response and gasped into his mouth when he walked across the room, one strong arm reaching out to sweep whatever was on the desk to the floor before setting you down on it.

"Confident, are we?"

JJ smirked at your breathless question and the way you hooked your ankles around the backs of his thighs to pull him closer. "So is that a yes to the smudging?"

"Just shut up and kiss me."

He did -very well, you might add- and you kissed him back, untangling your hands from his hair to slide them under his jacket instead; you helped him push it off his shoulders and it had barely hit the ground along with poor Baby Groot before your fingers were tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants.

"Someone's impatient." He teased, leaning back just far enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it somewhere behind you.

"Someone doesn't know how to stop talking." You whispered your reply low in his ear and then trailed your lips down his neck, smiling in satisfaction at the tremble in his voice when you kissed the purple mark you'd left behind earlier.

"N-never was very good at that."

"'You should've learned.'"

"'I don't learn, it's one of my issues.'"

One of his hands gripped your wig, pulling your head back a little roughly -you'd have so been into that if it had been your real hair he pulled- and you winced at the way the bobby pins holding it it place tugged painfully at your roots. "Ow, not so hard!"

"Wait, what the fuck? I thought you were wearing a wig!"

"I am but it's still pinned to my actual hair!"

"Sorry, but how the hell was I supposed to know that?"

The sight of JJ's face slowly turning red made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire and so you just shook your head, mumbling "don't worry about it," before pressing your lips to his once again. He was gentler this time with the pulling and you dug your nails into his bare shoulders at the thrill of his mouth against the exposed column of your throat, leaning back further and further until you laid flat on the desk.

His fingers had just unbuttoned your pants when your phone started to ring from your pocket, blaring the Star Wars theme you had set as your twin's ringtone.

"Mason's timing is impeccable," JJ said sarcastically, chuckling as you clamped a palm over his mouth and answered the call.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Jesus, no need to be pissy!" Mason loudly replied over the applause crackling through the phone's speaker. "I just thought you'd like to know that we just won best group costume with Maybank. Again."

The blond winked at the mention of his last name and pulled your hand away from his mouth, pinning it to the desk beside you with one of his while the other started tugging your pants down over your hips.

"Oh, that's cool, Mase-" You inhaled sharply when his lips touched the edge of your underwear, so close to where you wanted him most but at the same time so far away, and your fingers held your phone in a white-knuckled grip. "But I-I'm kind of in the middle of doing someone -something!- right now."

"Smooth," JJ said, not even trying to be quiet as he released your pinned hand to finish pulling your boots off, along with your tight leather pants that he casually tossed aside. "And I knew you weren't green under these!"

Your laugh quickly turned into a gasp when his fingers hooked under your panties and pulled those off, too, and the touch of his tongue against the skin of your inner thigh sent white-hot lightning racing through your veins; the phone slipped from your grip, falling with a clunk onto the desk as your fingers tangled in his hair and he lifted one of your knees over his shoulder.

"Okay, I'm hanging up now! I already know you're getting laid but I don't need to hear it." Mason's loud grumble drifted up through the speaker and if you weren't so preoccupied with the boy between your thighs doing some downright wicked things to you with his mouth, you might've noticed that your brother didn't actually sound that grumpy before he ended the call and your phone's screen went dark, right as you lost control of your voice.

"Fuck me."

"Funny, I thought that's what I was doing?" You felt more than heard his response against you and a shiver ran down your spine when his bright blue eyes flicked up to met yours in the dim light of the office.

"You know what I meant, Maybank."

"Trust me, Y/L/N, I know. Question is: where do you want me?"

You tugged on his hair, grinning wolfishly at the way his eyes fluttered closed and a low moan rose from his throat. "Everywhere in this damn room, starting right here."

"I was hoping you’d say that.”

- Back at the party, Mason looked up and met Sarah's gaze, both of her eyebrows raised expectantly as she asked, "Well?"

He took his time slipping his phone back into his pocket before giving her a quick nod, grinning triumphantly when she immediately burst into gleeful giggles.

"Yes! I just knew they had a thing for each other! Mortal enemies, my ass."

"I think that was the very first time in my sister's life that she didn't give a shit about the contest." Mason said and reached over to snag a cookie from her plate, chuckling when she pushed his hand away from the chocolate chip ones and toward the peanut butter. "We couldn't have pulled this off without you. I mean, making sure they showed up in matching costumes every year? Genius, Sarah. Absolutely genius."

The blonde girl grabbed her own cookie with a wink. "Think they'll ever figure it out?"

Your brother just threw his head back and laughed. "I hope not! I wanna save that story for my best man speech at their wedding."

taglist: @sinkbeneathwaves @cordeliascrown @maysbanks @jjpogueprincess @jiaraendgame @alexa-playafricabytoto @sexualparkour @agirlwholovescoffee

#brickswritingchallenge #outer banks #jj maybank #obx fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #obx x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #obx fanfic

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derireo · 4 years

Text

the workaholic ↦ tsumugi, tasuku, itaru, izumi

There was a reason why Izumi worked so hard.

A look into Izumi's self-worth and repressed memories.

「 3.3k words 」

cw: angst, hurt (no comfort), family issues. can be connected to my same age troupe series but doesn’t have to be.

Izumi didn't really like staying at home anymore.

Not after her dad left and her mom had to start juggling more jobs in order for them to have a few meals a week while on top of that paying for their bills.

She'd stay a little longer at school, hang around the lonely alleyways and shortcuts that ran along the neighbourhood, sit inside convenience stores until evening.

Just so that she wouldn't have to go back to an empty home.

Her passion for the things she used to love died out too, and she eventually quit her extracurriculars, including her theatre class.

She was grateful that she learned how to care for herself when she was young, but it was tiring. She didn't have enough clothes to wash when her mom rarely came home. There was no point in using the dishes if she was the only one eating. And if it meant saving more money, she wouldn't even turn the lights on in any of the rooms. Not even the washroom.

There were very few times when her mom would be able to spend the night at home with her, but again, there were few.

Izumi wanted to feel happy, seeing her mom's face, but it was hard when she always looked so tired. So angry.

They rarely talked when her mom was home, but Izumi would still cook her dinner and clean her room before she'd tuck in for the night.

And there were just some times when Izumi didn't want to be in her presence at all.

"You never do anything in this house." Her mom said one night in passing as Izumi was gathering their empty bowls.

The sentence caught Izumi off guard, making her pause in her ministrations. She looked up from the table to look at her mom in curiosity, and was met with an aggravated frown.

"All you do is stay out late and eat all the food that I work hard to put on the table." She complained quietly, tapping her finger against the wood that they sat at. "I don't recall you ever doing anything for this house."

"Mom, I–" Izumi's laugh was one out of pure disbelief, but her mother didn't let her finish.

"You're so useless.. You do nothing all day and complain about school and how you're always tired. You don't do anything. I'm the one working three jobs, for Chrissake." Her mom laughed in turn and ran a hand through her hair, standing up from the table with an exhausted shake of her head.

"I have work tomorrow. I'm leaving at four." She finished, standing to leave for her room. "Ungrateful brat."

And well; Izumi couldn't really say anything anyways. She took in a breath and made her way to the sink after she heard a door shut, a cold chill slowly running up her spine.

Her mom wasn't wrong. She wished she could do more, really.

"Welcome! Is this a job application?" A middle aged man bowed towards Izumi who held a neat folder for him to take, nodding her head to answer his question.

He opened the folder as Izumi clutched the strap to her schoolbag tightly. The man squinted at the few things on her resume and scratched his neck, offering Izumi an uneasy smile when he handed the file of papers back to her.

"You have all the traits we're looking for in a new employee," he said kindly, "but I fear you're too young for me to hire. I couldn't give you night shifts and graveyard like you asked anyway."

Izumi sighed, having already known the outcome. But she just couldn't let it go.

"I need this job." She said quietly, bunching the strap she held in her hand with a death grip. "I want to help ease my mom's burden."

And as much as she didn't want to use the guilt card, she really wanted the job. If it gave her an excuse not to be home, she'd gladly take it.

There was a frown, a pinch of the nose, and a sigh.

Suddenly, Izumi was being asked for her folder again and she quickly gave it back, her sad, doe eyes slowly regaining a bit of light.

"I'll send an email if I manage to get you the job." The middle aged man sighed once more, waving off a surprised Izumi who nearly shouted. "..Now go home."

"Thank you, Mister!" She saluted, regaining some newfound energy she never knew she had.

And with that, for the first time in months, did she go home before sunset.

She got the email a few days later during class. She was opening and closing her fliphone with a bored expression on her face as her teacher went to explain the difference between kanji and hiragana.

> From: [email protected] – I got you the job. Training starts next week at 4pm.

Izumi almost shouted. Almost.

What she did do was drop her phone in surprise, her legs jolting up and clambering against her desk. The loud noise obviously disturbed everyone around her and she floundered when her teacher glared.

"Something interesting happening over there, Tachibana?" He grouched with a frown, to which the classmates around her either giggled or whispered as she fumbled to grab her phone from the floor.

Her smile was elated, but at the same time panicked, and she shook her head in denial. Shoving her phone into her skirt pocket (that she had to sew in herself), Izumi straightened her tie.

"No, Sir. Just a rat startling me."

And like many other times, Izumi was the starter of chaos, everyone in the room beginning to panic at the idea of having a real rat inside of the school.

The class ended with all of the desks in disarray, and a flustered Izumi bowing in apology to her teacher who had his arms crossed.

And Izumi absolutely loved her job. Although it was busy on weekdays because students would visit after school, she loved the rush; she loved feeling like she was doing something.

She loved the feeling of being useful.

Time would fly by as if she was only working for an hour so; sometimes she wouldn't even want to leave once the next worker would come in for their shift.

She was a fast learner too, and her manager, that middle aged man, would watch with an impressed expression on his face.

Graveyard shift was another thing, but if it meant Izumi wouldn't have to be stuck home alone with her thoughts, she'd take any day they had to offer.

It was a boring shift, usually receiving visits from overworked business men or the occasional drunkard who needed something to sober up.

There were a few times where she'd have customers who were around her age; kind of odd, but at the same time not really.

There was one guy her age who would visit at around midnight to three in the morning, and a duo that would come by at six-thirty sharp.

"Energy drinks again? Chigasaki-san." She would scold the boy who donned a pair of glasses and their school's tracksuit.

His visit was always quick, and he never opened his mouth to speak to her after the night he introduced himself that one time.

"I see Takato-san has dragged you out again." She would comment when the two boys would stalk in; the taller one buying water bottles while the blue haired one would eat a breakfast snack.

The interesting thing with this duo was that, the blue haired boy would stay inside and accompany Izumi while the other would perform his daily morning jog; something that the young girl found distasteful.

"Are you sure you'll be okay going to school?" The boy would ask her every day he visited. He found out that when Izumi did graveyard shifts on a Sunday or weekday, she would head to school right after, not even bothering to take a nap or a break.

And to put the blue haired boy's mind to rest, the other friend would walk in; barely having broken a sweat: "We can walk her there. Let's go."

And this duo– she thought she would forever be grateful for them. They took care of her whenever she was barely able to herself; walking her home after they finished their classes at their own school and helping her with her assignments before forcing her to go to sleep on the days she didn't have graveyard.

But the thing was, when she met those three again while trying to revive the theatre her father left neglected, she didn't seem to remember any of them.

Meeting Itaru Chigasaki again was like meeting him for the first time, and he was surprised, but at the same time not. With how often he visited her konbini back then, maybe he would have stuck in her subconscious, but, maybe not. He didn't try to make conversation with her back then anyways so he couldn't blame Izumi for anything.

Meeting Tasuku Takato and Tsumugi Tsukioka again was much the same for her.

Tsumugi was devastated that she couldn't remember them, and Tasuku, annoyed.

"Oh. I don't really remember anything that happened during my high school days." Izumi had said in passing one afternoon when Muku asked her if she had experienced anything similar to the story of Ouran High School Host Club.

There was an incredulous gasp from Muku, saying that it shouldn't be possible. High school was probably a significant time in your life when you were still young!

"I just remember working and studying a lot. And I rarely stayed at home?" She answered him with a question and frowned, scratching her head. "It kept me busy because the house was always empty and I had nothing better to do."

"Eh? So then how did you get back into theatre?" Tenma asked from his side of the couch, squinting at Izumi through the sunglasses he didn't bother taking off after coming home.

"When Sakyo gave me no other choice but to save the company."

"But there was also the letter that Matsukawa sent, right?" Sakuya piped up, tilting his head. "I feel we would have been in a lot of trouble if she never got it."

"Yeah, I don't even remember what I was doing before I got that letter, honestly. It had nothing to do with theatre that's for sure." Izumi scratched her cheek.

Speechless, Tasuku plopped himself down in the chair that sat beside Izumi's side of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Do you remember anything between the ages of fifteen and nineteen?" He inquired, frown etched onto his face as both he and Tsumugi shot each other a look from either side of the room.

Itaru chewed at his granola bar with an unreadable expression on his face, but secretly anticipated Izumi's answer just like everyone else.

"Not really." She responded slowly, looking over at the man who sat beside her. Tasuku huffed out a breath; already giving up on receiving a satisfying answer.

"Do you remember any friends from high school?" Tsumugi inquired next, resulting in an excitable nod from Muku who had regained his energy.

Izumi frowned.

"I didn't have any."

Itaru sighed; feeling like they were going nowhere with all of this nonsense and beating around the bush.

"Yes you did." The blond argued albeit not as aggressive as he wanted to.

He couldn't be upset or annoyed when he didn't even try to become friends with her back then. He recalled the many nights he ignored her after their first meeting, never looking into her eyes as she tried to start a conversation with him.

But even if he wasn't her friend, he at least knew that Tasuku and Tsumugi were. He'd see them walk her to school every single morning and watch as they'd tentatively walk away as Izumi got scolded for the umpteenth time for arriving so late.

Izumi fell silent at Itaru's response and awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest; becoming defensive at his tone.

"How would you know?" She tried to keep her voice level, but she sounded small and embarrassed.

Tenma, Muku, and Sakuya began to frown at this new side of the director.

Tsumugi decided to pipe up at this time, eager to let the attention on the director snap towards him.

He gripped at his wristwatch with meekness riddling his features as he spoke. "Tasuku and I were your best friends in high school."

And then the lounge room went silent.

Tasuku visibly relaxed in his seat once the cat was out of the bag, and the three younger members with them whipped their heads to look between the Winter Pair in shock.

Izumi's face warmed.

"That isn't right." She shook her head and shrunk into the couch; still in disbelief. If that were the case, she wouldn't have said she didn't have any friends in the first place.

She wasn't exactly the best person to be around in high school and she always struggled to be interesting. How could she have friends when all she did was work, work, work?

How could she have friends when it felt like she'd been alone her whole life?

It...didn't make sense.

Not to Izumi at least.

"I didn't have time to make friends." She murmured, wrapping her arms around herself to get rid of the sad chill that crawled up her arms. "And the ones I had before left me when I quit theatre."

Tasuku pinched his nose between his fingers while Itaru flipped his phone in his hand several times, Tsumugi watching the gears turn in Izumi's head only to end up with them stuttering and breaking down.

Was she only remembering the bad things? Or was she repressing memories that she didn't want to remember?

...Did she want to forget them?

Tsumugi anxiously tapped his fingers against his knee. "You don't remember us."

"I don't think I've ever seen you two before I came to Veludo." Izumi twisted her fingers in the fabric of her sleeves. "Itaru made it sound like we knew each other too which is weird."

To Tsumugi it seemed like her brain was refusing access to this specific part of her life; the memories so heavily blocked that she couldn't retrieve them. Couldn't remember them.

Her high school days were so bad that she grew to learn how to send them all the way to the back of her mind; never to be seen again.

It was like she was experiencing repressed memory...

And, well, Tsumugi understood the severity of that at the very least.

Tasuku and Itaru on the other hand couldn't understand.

They couldn't find themselves to.

"I don't think there's a point to this conversation anymore." The violet eyed man resigned with a hint of aggravation swirling around his tone.

It looked like he was seething from where he sat beside Izumi, strong arms curled around his chest as his glaring eyes stared at Tsumugi who had an expression full of sadness.

"If it was that easy to forget us after all those years spent together then I don't want to hear anymore of this."

Tsumugi could feel the hairs on his arm stand at the icy tone lacing Tasuku's voice.

"Just let her explain why—"

"Why? Why what?" Tasuku tittered. His blood was starting to boil; he could feel the steam coming out of his ears.

It was unfair. Along with Tsumugi he spent four years taking care of Izumi only for her to forget them? Those early mornings and late nights they spent with her to make sure she was staying alive wasn't enough to have them ingrained in her brain?

She was ungrateful enough to forget all they had done for her? Feed her meals, keep her company, help her forget that she was alone?

She was like family to them. Was it not the same for her?

If she left the company, would she forget them a second time?

They never knew where she went after graduation.

"She was barely able to do anything back then. Who helped her pass sciences, math, and the like? Who helped her in literature? Comprehension?" Tasuku listed off angrily, unable to notice the way Izumi was shrinking in her seat while at the same time staring off into space.

It was like her ears were filled with cotton.

"Who carried her home every single night when she was barely able to stand from exhaustion? Who fed her meals to make sure she wasn't starving?" The Winter Troupe member continued, vision going red with anger as he remembered all of the times a limp Izumi would hang off his back.

Remembered the tears that would stain the back of his uniform.

He shook his head.

"I've never met someone so damn ungrateful. She would've been useless without us, Tsumugi." The exasperation in his voice was clear.

Izumi pursed her lips, ears picking up the words like she was resurfacing from a huge body of water.

"Tasuku." Tsumugi scolded—

Useless. Izumi mused.

His anger was understandable. If what all that Tasuku had said was true, she couldn't blame the betrayal and hurt they felt.

But as much as she wanted to remember, she couldn't pick anything up from her high school days.

What else could she remember other than the feeling of coming back to an empty home and a mother who ignored her existence?

...Tasuku was right.

But it still hurt.

She tried to ignore the words Tasuku was spewing in order to save herself, but it was futile.

She was useless for not being able to remember.

She was useless for not doing anything.

Useless for doing everything she could and it still not being enough.

What even was considered enough?

Stop thinking.

The empty house. The molding walls. The lonely bed.

Her mother—

Fuck! Just snap out of it.

"Er...Sorry." She laughed to cover up the fact that she was on the verge of tears. She shook as she struggled to get off the couch. Her sudden apology made Tasuku stiffen as Tsumugi and Itaru watched their director with shocked expressions.

The weight of the situation suddenly felt real. Very real.

Should— should they look away? Tenma, Muku, and Sakuya had already left once Tasuku went on his mini rampage because they were terrified of what was to come.

So it was only the four adults left.

"I just remembered something." She pointed her thumb behind her in the direction of the hallway, smiling as she did so. "I'm backstage crew for this theatre's rehearsal tonight, so... I have to go get ready."

She bowed deeply to the three men who sat there in stunned silence, profusely bending her body so that she wouldn't show her face as she backed away, only swiftly turning around when she reached the hallway.

"I'll offer her a ride." Itaru spoke up after a good minute of silence and stood up from his spot on the couch.

Silence blanketed the lounge room like a cloud wrapping around an airplane once the blonde left to grab his keys from mini table beside the stairs.

Tasuku brought his hand to his face to hopefully wipe away the stress that was riddling his features.

The rattle of Izumi's own keys were heard down the hallway, footsteps rushed as papers rustled in her hands while she bolted towards the stairs.

"Izumi, I can drive—" Itaru murmured once her hand reached the railing of the stairs, but was interrupted by her wavering voice.

"I don't need it. I'll be fine." She laughed a little, just to ease Itaru's worries if he had any but refused to look him in the eye as she walked down the stairs. "I'll call, if anything."

Itaru twirled his keys back into his palm and cleared his throat. Yeah, that's fine.

"Stay safe." He called out in his soft spoken voice.

"Yeah." Came her response, then the sound of the front door slamming shut.

He shuffled towards the kitchen window not too long after, to see Izumi sprinting down the street with a teary grimace.

Huh. He recalled a time when he came across a similar expression up on the school's rooftop.

But he had left her there just as quick as he had come.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#act! addict! actors!#tasuku takato #tsumugi tsukioka #itaru chigasaki #izumi tachibana #dr: same age troupe #?

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

This Night (40s!Bucky Barnes x Hispanic!OFC)

Summary: When she saved a scrawny blond in a back alley, she would never have anticipated the ripple effects it would have. Nor how meeting someone with a pair of baby blue eyes and cocky smirk would draw her in, encouraging her that for one night, to taste revelry like she never had before.

This is my submission for @allaboardthereadingrailroad Marvel Diversity Challenge! My prompt was “a little danger never hurt”.

I am going to admit, I’m super nervous to post this. I’ve never written a person of color before and would be horrified to accidently offend someone. That being said, I also had so much fun writing this piece. I adore 40s Bucky and Steve, so I was excited to finally have the inspiration to write them.

Few notes:

-All translations are via google and what I can remember from university (if any of my Spanish is wrong, please please please someone tell me and i’ll correct it!)

-I threw in some 40s slang for fun, so that will be in italics.

-In the little research I did (again, someone please correct me if I am wrong), in the 40s there were not many Hispanic or Latino people living in NYC yet. So for my OFC and her family, they would very much stand out.

Warnings: a few swear words, some angst, sexual tension, topic of racial discrimination and inequality

Words: 8k (the story kept growing, i’m so sorry)

She clutched the parcel to her chest, trying to avoid the muddy puddles on the sidewalk. Mr. Hendricks would be furious with her if she got any mud on the packaging of the parcel. He always said it reflected his reputation.

Weaving through those walking down the busy Brooklyn sidewalk, she could feel the few glares and inaudible comments following in her wake. She tried to ignore it, knowing was not the first nor last time others judged her for her different skin tone. Though she doubted she would ever get used to it. One of her older brothers would try and cheer her up saying the white folks were jealous since they burned when in the sun too long while Spaniards became more beautiful. Without fail, she would smack him but end up laughing along.

Peeking at the address scrawled in precise handwriting, she surveyed the street names around. A sinking feeling in her gut confirmed her fear- she had somehow gotten lost.

“Mierda.” She hissed, turning around in a circle. Not just to try and relocate her whereabouts but on the off chance her mother happened to be behind her to whack her over the head for swearing.

Not wanting to be run over by a fellow pedestrian, she stepped off the sidewalk into an alley nearby while she tried to get her bearings. She brushed down the front of her workwear, dark blue, princess style dress with its Peter Pan collar, double pockets and pleated skirt. A glance at her tights showed a couple spots of mud she somehow managed to still get on her even though her kitten heels were still mostly clean. A miracle really.

It was only mid-afternoon but Mr. Hendricks hated when she returned late from delivering parcels. He was the best tailor in Brooklyn and practically thrived off that title. He employed her to help keep things organized, the shop looking nice and delivering parcels to their patrons. It was mindless work but that did not bother her. It was a job...and she was lucky to have one. Being from one of the few Hispanic families in the area was not a perk when trying to find work. She knew the only reason she even got this job was she willingly took half the pay he would have given to anyone else, she could sew well, and she was pretty.

A crash at the end of the alley drew her attention behind her. There was some hushed talking followed by another sound of something hitting the ground. Hard.

Logically, she knew she should walk away. She was already lost. Her mother frequently reminded her to not involve herself in other people's business, it would only get her in trouble. The problem was her curiosity was a near palpable thing, driving her forward, along with her independent streak the size of the Upper Bay. So when she heard what sounded like a smack and another crash, her feet started moving without a second thought.

She darted around a half brick wall to find herself at an "L" intersection. And at the end of both alleys, stood a tall man with a face like a bulldog and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, fists at his side. Below him lay a much smaller, blond man who was sprawled out on the dirty ground. The smaller man groaned, rubbing a hand on his jaw. He rolled onto his side, then slowly and painfully rose back onto his feet, his own fists in front of him in a poor imitation of a boxer.

"You think you somethin' special, huh?" The larger man jeered, a nasty smirk on his face. He leaned on his back foot, preparing to throw another punch.

The smaller man raised his fists but made no other move, prepared to take the hit and most likely go back down.

So, she decided to do something stupid.

"BILL!!" She cried out, her voice echoing off the brick walls of the alleys.

Both men froze, turning to look at her.

Tucking the parcel under her arm, she jogged over to the smaller man, uncaring now of the muddy puddles. "There you are, Bill. I've been so worried. You promised to show me where Mrs. Wilcox lives. I tried to find her myself but I got so lost." Ignoring the quizzical look from the blond man, she stood between the two men, meeting the eyes of the larger one. She twirled a strand of her long, black hair around her finger, nerves getting to her but she pressed on. "I'm so sorry for whatever trouble he has caused you. He won't bother you again. We have to go now; our boss will dock our wages if we aren't back soon."

The man trailed his eyes over her as if looking for a lie tattooed on her skin or dress. Finding nothing of interest, he stared hard at his victim for a long moment. She found herself holding her breath, silently praying her ruse worked.

Finally, he rolled his shoulders and unclenched his fists, his thick jowls still tense. "Keep ‘im away from me or next time his ass will end up in the hospital."

Slowly, she released her breath as she watched the bulldog of a man turn on his heel and stomp away, back down the alley and onto the main sidewalk.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over the smaller man. As he dusted off his brown trousers and tan jacket, she was surprised to realize he stood about her height, and probably about her age, in the young twenties. If her guessing was any good.

He rubbed his jaw again and winced where an impressive bruise was already growing. "I've had worse."

She could not help but smile at his nonchalance. His bright blue eyes met her own honey brown. A timid smile echoed hers, his face so open and expressive. Something about the man she found endearing already. Maybe defending him was not such a stupid action.

"All that stuff you said, about lookin' for me and gettin' lost…"

She huffed a laugh. "I am actually lost. I'm trying to find this address here." She showed him the scrap of paper with the address scribbled on it.

It took only a glance before he handed the paper back with a smile. "You're not too far. Only three streets away….I... I can take you there if you like."

"Oh, I'd hate to impose on you."

"No, it's really fine. Seems you saved me from...well…" He shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket.

"And... you...don't mind, you know, being seen with me?"

"No, why?" Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed slightly, he stared at her like that was the strangest question.

It was in that moment she knew, whoever this scrawny man was- he was a good man. The difference in their ethnicity made no difference to him. He was a rarity in her experience with most New Yorkers.

Even though it was 1940 and this was supposed to be a land of equal opportunity.

It was not.

With a shrug and momentarily, awkward silence as they both thought about their own answers to his question, they fell into step with one another as they headed back out of the alley.

"So, what's your name? Or is it actually Bill?" She spoke up once they hit the sidewalk.

"Do I look like a Bill?"

She squinted her eyes then shook her head giggling. "No, you don't."

"It's Steve…. Steve Rogers."

"It's nice to meet you, Steve."

He directed them down another street. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they walked, due more to their need to maneuver around puddles and other pedestrians than any sense of intimacy. "You gonna tell me your name or do I have to make one up for you?"

"Oh! Sorry. It's Elana Morales-Díaz. So, what caused the fight?"

The tips of his ears and cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. "He, um, we...we had a disagreement."

"Obviously. I would hate to know you're friends and beat each other up for fun."

"My best friend is a boxer. He's tryin’ to teach me some moves…. does that count as beating each other up?"

She pretended to think about it. "I may let that one slide but it sounds like you might need some new friends."

"Yeah," he chuckled and peeked over at her. "Know of any openings?"

"I just might."

They stood at an intersection waiting to cross the street when they heard a shout from further down the road. Neither paid much attention initially until the shout repeated itself.

"STEVE!"

The blond looked down the road, a smile on his lips. He waved and tugged on Elana to move away from the curb. She followed along, surprised since he told her they needed to cross.

A man glided through the pedestrians easily, a few lingering looks thrown his way by some of the women. When he noticed her standing next to Steve, his eyes widened for a brief moment before a lazy smirk appeared on his face and his strut became more pronounced. With boxing gloves dangling over his shoulder, his white shirt and black trousers, he looked like he just walked out of a gym. Especially with the way his dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze, a few strands sticking up like he had run his hands through it a few times.

"I leave you for one afternoon and I come back to find you with the prettiest gal in all of New York."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're always at the gym now."

The man put Steve in a teasing headlock. Only after a flirtatious wink at her, he released the smaller man. "So, you gonna introduce me to this wolfess, Steve?"

"Ah, right. Elana, this is my best friend, Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is Elana."

"Nice to meet you." She said, a small smile at their interactions. It reminded her of her brothers.

The man -Bucky- reached over and took her hand but instead of shaking it, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, maintaining eye contact the whole time. "Pleasure is mine."

Oh, he was a charmer. The kind her mother warned her about. Then again, her father had the same devilish charisma and Elana liked to remind her mother of that. To which her mother would laugh and say that's why she warned her daughter of those men, she knew from experience. With just a wink and kiss, she would fall madly in love, leave her home and give him five babies before she even knew it. It was always after this statement often said loudly and with feigned annoyance that Elana's father would wrap his arms around his wife, lovingly kiss her temple and remind her how long he had to chase her before she even agreed to go on a date with him.

"So how do you guys know each other?" Bucky asked, those blue eyes bouncing between the two of them.

Steve coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was then Bucky finally seemed to notice the slowly darkening bruise on Steve's jaw.

"Steve!" He grabbed his friend's face and glanced over him, concern etched in his movements and expression. "What happened this time, punk?"

"Nothin'...just a disagreement. I had 'im on the ropes."

He dropped his hand, running it through his brunet hair. "You gotta stop pickin’ fights, one of these days…" The implications hung heavily in the air.

"Ah, Steve…" When he looked over at her, she nodded toward the parcel still in her arms.

"Oh right! Sorry. Buck, I gotta take her to drop somethin' off."

Bucky shrugged. "Lead the way, punk."

"Jerk."

The three of them quickly crossed the street. Steve, and soon Bucky when he understood what was going on, pointed out markers for her in case she got lost again. In a short time, they arrived at the house, one of the nicer ones in Brooklyn. The boys waited on the sidewalk as Elana walked up to the front door and handed the parcel over with the man's tailored suit.

"Where you off to now, doll?" Bucky asked when she approached them.

"Oh, I need to get back to the shop. Mr. Hendricks will most likely be upset with how late I am anyway."

"The tailorin’ shop near Prospect Park?"

"Yeah." She played with a strand of her hair, trying to hide her nerves.

"What a coincidence. We were headed that way ourselves, right, Steve?"

"What?" Steve looked at Bucky, head tilted in confusion. Bucky cuffed him in the back of the head. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, gonna take a nice walk in the park."

Elana could not help but giggle at the two. With Bucky looking skyward like he was silently praying for patience to deal with his best friend; meanwhile Steve rubbed the back of his head and glared at his best friend. Although she just met them and hardly knew them, she found herself enjoying their presence. Friends were not something she had in great supply...or any supply really.

Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she found her gaze drifting to the tall, charming brunet more times than she cared to admit. The butterflies in her stomach did not help the situation. She knew it was foolish. He was attractive and knew it. But when he turned those baby blues on her and winked, she could not help but be drawn to him, like a moth to the flame.

"How come we ain't seen you round before? I know I'd remember a dame as beautiful as you round Brooklyn." Bucky said on her left side while Steve walked on her right. Neither one crowded her space. Sometimes one would touch a hand to her back to direct her steps or hold her elbow when she jumped a puddle. It was sweet instead of condescending.

She shrugged. "I recently got the job at the tailor shop and I live in Queens."

They both winced making her laugh. She would never understand this animosity the boroughs had with each other.

"Well that explains a lot." Steve muttered.

"Hey!" She nudged the blond with her shoulder as she muttered. "Me gusta Queens. Ustedes dos están celosos."

"What language is that?" Steve asked, curiosity evident.

"Spanish."

"Is that why you have an accent?"

She nodded, unable to meet their gazes as she answered. "My family moved here from Spain when I was six." Although she had grown up here in New York City, gone to school just like the other kids, she still maintained a slight accent to her words, different from the stereotypical New Yorker's accent.

"Say somethin’ else." Bucky smiled down at her.

She laughed. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Anythin’."

"El cielo es azul. Me duelen los pies con estos tacones. Me he reído más con ustedes dos que en semanas".

Bucky had almost a dazed look on his face. "That's beautiful."

"You have no idea what I said."

"Doesn't matter." The brunet stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Steve can talk in Irish."

"Buck…"

"What?"

"I mean, a little." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My ma came from Ireland."

Bucky snorted. "You wrote a poem for a girl in the second grade in Irish and read it to her on the playground. I'd say that's more than a little."

Steve's face was red and jaw dropped as he stared at his friend. "How...how...how do you know that?" He sputtered. "We weren't even friends yet."

Bucky winked at Elana as he answered. "Gotta be friends with the right people."

The three of them walked back, talking and laughing. Well it was mostly the boys talking and teasing one another but she enjoyed just listening to their banter. Occasionally they would direct a question to her or she would throw out a remark that had them laughing.

She guided them to the back alley of the street front shops. Mr. Hendricks disliked her walking through the front unless she had her work apron on and clean shoes.

"Well thank you for helping me and walking me back."

"It's not a big deal." Steve said.

"We'll see you round, yeah? I'd hate to just meet a gorgeous dame like you then never see her again." Bucky threw a wink at her, adjusting the boxing gloves still over his shoulder.

She opened her mouth to tease them then stopped. She truly hoped this was not the last time she saw these two. In a spur of the moment decision, she stepped closer to say goodbye. She pressed her cheeks to Steve's first, giving the traditional cheek kiss. She did the same to Bucky, though she had to rise on her toes to reach his face, and she suspected he bent over slightly.

"Hasta luego, mis amigos."

"What was that, doll?"

She looked from Bucky's smirk to Steve's red face and back. "A traditional goodbye."

"Mmm…I could get used to that." The boxer teased, nudging his friend who refused to meet her eyes now.

She smiled and started to open the back door when Bucky's hand grabbed her forearm, stalling her movements.

"Hey, wait." Those baby blue eyes met her honey brown ones. "It's Friday night. We usually go to the Stork Club for drinks and dancin’. Come with us."

"Oh, I don't know…"

"Come on. It'll be great. If it helps, we'll pick you up from your house."

She could not help the laugh that slipped out at the thought. "You'd come to Queens... to get me?"

"It might break my heart to leave my beloved Brooklyn but I'd do it for you, doll."

"Honestly it'd be dangerous for you to come to my house."

"A little danger never hurt." He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

He was trouble, complete trouble for her...and she knew it. But the longer he stared at her with those pleading eyes and hand now at the nape of her neck, she could feel her resolve crumbling. "I have three brothers and a protective father."

"They can't be that bad… Come on, please? Steve, help me out!"

Steve just laughed, raising his hands in surrender.

She bit the inside of her cheek thinking about it. Her brother Mateo owed her for when she covered for him when he almost got caught smoking cigarettes behind the apartment building. Tonight, her parents were supposed to visit her eldest brother and his new wife in the Bronx.

"Ok…" She whispered.

"Yeah?" A beaming grin spread over his face.

"Ok...I'll meet you there though."

"Yes!" Bucky bent over and kissed her cheek loudly. "You won't regret it! Nine o'clock!"

"Nueve. Estaré allí."

"I still don't know what you said, doll, but I love it."

She laughed, pushing him away from her. "Go! Before I'm even more late."

Before they were three steps away, she ducked inside the back of the shop. Hopefully she was able to slip in unnoticed. The shop should be closing soon so Mr. Hendricks would be in his little office room.

She leaned against the back door, hands pressed against her cheeks to will away the warmth in them. Thankfully with her brown skin, the blush would be harder to notice. As she stood there, the realization of what she just agreed to finally hit her. An icy fist landed in her gut, drowning the blush away. She had never been to a club before. She had no idea what to wear...or how to act. How was she even going to get there?

Underneath the fear though was a determination to go. Why couldn't she have fun for one night, like other young women she regularly saw and envied. Both of those Brooklyn boys seemed nice. Thinking about them brought the flush back to her skin, especially when she thought of the kiss on the cheek from Bucky. He was trouble and fun and charming and devilish and… and she wanted to spend more time with him. And Steve, the sweet, kind, funny guy that he was. She liked them both. But when thinking about those baby blue eyes, insufferable smirk and broad shoulders...her heartbeat sped up and butterflies erupted in her belly.

"Oh Dios, ¿qué voy a hacer?" She whispered to herself.

*****

Just after nine o'clock, Elana climbed out of the taxi. She stared up at the sign that brightly screamed ‘Stork Club’. So many people milled about, either walking into the club or chatting, waiting for others in their group. A couple people already looked like they had been hitting the bottles for some time, if the rambunctious yelling and obnoxious laughter said anything. The atmosphere was loud and vibrant with an air of debauchery...and she had not even stepped foot in the door.

"Oh Dios, ¿por qué estoy aquí? Estúpido. Tan estúpido. Debería irme. Ni siquiera se darán cuenta." She murmured to herself, her hands wringing the strap on her clutch. Actually, it was not even hers. She "borrowed" it from her mother's closet and prayed that she could return it before her mother noticed.

"Elana!"

At the call of her name, she turned around to see Bucky and Steve crossing the street, dodging a car that decided they were taking too long.

"You made it!" Bucky exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. He scanned her over, giving a low whistle. "Damn, doll, you look beautiful."

"Gracias." She smoothed down her floral-patterned tea dress that reached mid-calf, her kitten heels still on from earlier. Her raven hair hung loosely down her back, unstyled in the typical curls that most women wore. There had been no time to try one of those hair styles and not bring attention to herself before she snuck out. Just to make her even more self-conscious, the cherry red lipstick she wore felt heavy on her lips. Something she only wore on rare occasions. "You fellas clean up nicely."

Checking over them, they each wore nice suits. Though Steve's looked a size or two too large and the prominent bruise on his cheek ruined the look a bit. Bucky was practically sinful in his suit, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs, his hair slicked back. Improper thoughts flooded her mind and a heat warmed her cheeks. She had a feeling she would need to go to confession tomorrow. That was tomorrow’s worry though, tonight was about fun.

"Ready to have the time of your life?" Bucky asked, excitement practically bubbled under his skin.

"That's a high standard."

"Guess I better not disappoint. C'mon!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the crowded, open door. In her sudden fear, she reached back and snagged Steve's hand, dragging him along. She would never admit it but having both of them on either side of her made her feel better.

There were several different calls for Bucky, vying for his attention. He just waved or yelled something back but kept her hand in his, pulling them through. She noticed more than one disappointed female face when Bucky passed them. It churned something in her stomach which she tried to ignore.

When they finally entered the dance hall, she froze. It was nothing like she imagined and so much better. At the far end was a stage with a large band playing an upbeat song that made her bounce on her toes without realizing it. A large bar area was set up, packed with people already looking for something to wet their throats. Booths and tables lined the walls. Already the hardwood, dance floor looked packed with couples jiving. Mirrors and photographs hung on the walls making the place feel bigger even when it was so crowded. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and a youthful zeal she had never experienced.

It was intoxicating and nerve-wracking. She could not wait to join in.

The next thing she noticed when she glanced at all the people...she was the only non-white person there.

"Let's get a table." Bucky tugged them along towards an open booth on the right side of the dance floor.

She slid in on one side while Steve scooted in on the other. Bucky stood at the end, grinning ear to ear as he seemed to quickly survey the place.

"Right." He tossed his suit jacket on the seat next to her then clapped his hands, the sound muffled by the volume from the band nearby. "What kinda drink would you like?"

"Ah, vino?"

He nodded and waltzed towards the bar, throwing an arm around the shoulder of one of the men standing there waiting.

She turned back to the blond. "You're not drinking?"

"Nah, too many health issues to make it worth it."

She hummed and took note of Steve's fidgeting. "Is this your first time too?"

He chuckled. "No. I just don't...well, this isn't where I'd prefer to be on a Friday night...but don't tell Bucky... though he probably knows."

"What would you rather be doing?"

"Drawin’ or paintin’, maybe playin’ cards but I'm terrible at them."

"You're an artist?" The realization warmed her heart. This scrawny man with a heart too big for his body and kindness an invisible cloak around him. It made sense somehow. He could look past the ugly and see beauty and somehow capture it.

"I don't know if I'd say that...I just enjoy it. It's usually what I end up doin’ when I come here. Doodlin’ on a napkin while Buck dances with every girl he can."

Her stomach dropped while hearing that, which was stupid. So stupid. She swallowed thickly, hoping Steve did not notice, before she spoke again to distract herself. "Well if you doodle something tonight, can I see it after?"

"If you like."

Bucky appeared a minute later with a foamy glass of beer and a glass of red wine. Carefully, he placed them both on the table. "Ready to cut a rug?" He asked, looking at her expectedly.

"Um, I don't...I've never danced like this before." She hesitantly admitted. Steve gave her a sympathetic smile like he understood.

"Don't matter. I bet you're a swell dancer." He held out his hand for her. When she did not immediately accept his hand, he wiggled his fingers. "C'mon, ain't that hard. I'll teach you."

With a sigh, she took his hand, his smile beaming as he tugged her out of the booth. She could not help but smile back at his sheer enthusiasm. It was contagious.

He led her off to the side of the dance floor. Putting one hand on her lower back and taking the other in his hand, he began demonstrating the steps. Her eyes stayed glued to his feet while he moved, willing her brain to understand and not make a fool of her.

"You got this, doll. Told you, you're a natural. Just follow my movement, let me lead."

So she did and before she knew it, they were flying around the dance floor.

Bucky was an amazing dancer and it showed in how he effortlessly led her. A couple times she stumbled or stepped on his toes but he would just grin and encourage her to keep going. The faces of those around them blurred. The music seemed to sink into her blood and with every beat of the drum or clap of the hands from the band, her heartbeat echoed it. It was intoxicating and she had not even had a sip of alcohol. Now she understood why people flocked to these dance halls. There was something freeing in them, losing yourself to the music and movements. For a short time, you could ignore the outside world and all its trials. Here, you could be free.

Eventually she begged a break, practically panting from the several songs they danced through. The brightness in her eyes and smile though showed how much fun she was having. Still holding hands, they weaved through the crowd back to their booth where Steve sat with a napkin in front of him, pencil in hand and eyes focused downward. She slid into the booth first, Bucky right behind her.

"Have fun?" Steve asked, eyes bouncing between the two before him.

"I can't breathe." She giggled out, hand pressed to her chest. Her lungs struggled to fill up properly but instead of installing fear into her, it only made her laugh.

Bucky took a long sip of his beer and slung his arm behind Elana, on the back of the booth. "Told you, you'd have fun. You're a great dancer."

"Only cause I had a great teacher." Taking a sip of her wine, she focused on the quiet artist. "Did you draw something, Steve?"

"Yeah, just a little sketch."

"Can I see it?"

He slid the napkin over to her, nerves obvious. Giving him a small, reassuring smile, she flipped the napkin over and felt her heart stop and jaw drop. The pencil sketch was of Bucky and her dancing. His mouth was next to her ear, whispering instructions or flirtatious comments, his hand on her lower back. Her gaze was on his chest but the brilliant smile on her lips gave her away. The sketch was so realistic, it was astounding. It completely captured Bucky's confidence and her nervousness but somehow the opposite emotions only added to the image, bringing a sense of balance and trust between the two dancing partners.

"Steve, esto es…. hermoso…. increíble." She breathed out, never taking her eyes off the napkin. When she finally looked up to see him blushing and fiddling with the pencil, she smiled.

Bucky had been leaning against her so he could see the sketch also. "That might be your best one yet, pal."

"Thanks, guys. S'nothing."

"May I keep it?" She softly asked, eyes tracing the delicate lines and shading.

The embarrassed blond flapped a hand at her. "Course. It was for you if you wanted it anyway."

Silently, she reached across and squeezed Steve's hand, unable to convey all the emotions she was feeling. "There's one thing you got wrong."

"What's that?"

"I'm not that pretty."

Both Steve and Bucky chuckled.

"Elana," Bucky started, gazing down at her. "He drew you like-"

"Bucky!" A silky voice interrupted. A young woman stood at the end of their booth. Her blonde hair in perfect curls, bright red lipstick matched the equally bright red dress she wore. Her eyes zeroed in on the handsome brunet at the table, ignoring the other two patrons like they were just wallpaper. "Wanna dance?"

The sun-kissed woman could feel Bucky's hesitation. Nudging him gently in the ribs, she nodded towards the interloper. "Go. Have fun. I still need to catch my breath."

With a nod, he slipped out of the booth and followed the beautiful woman onto the dance floor. The two easily fell into step like they had done this a million times, each movement flawless and smiles on both of their faces.

She turned back to Steve, ignoring the churning in her gut. "What's your favorite thing to draw?"

They talked for a few minutes about art classes he had taken and the few commissioned pieces he had done for local businesses. The passion he spoke with about art, hands flapping and eyes alight, it was impossible not to join in his enthusiasm.

The presence of someone standing at the end of the table drew their attention away from the quick sketch of a monkey Steve had drawn on another napkin. This young woman had a haughty expression on her otherwise pretty face, glaring down her nose at Elana.

"You shouldn't be here." She stated, venom lacing every word. Hands on her curvy hips, the gold stitching in her emerald dress catching the light from above.

"Ruby, we-"

"No one is talkin’ to you, Steve." She barked then continued glaring at Elana. "I bet you're a real floozy, comin’ in here lookin’ like that. Well news flash, no one wants you or your kind here."

Tears stung in Elana’s eyes, threatening to fall. She knew this would happen. It always happened. There was always someone to remind her she was not one of them, even if her own eyes could see it. She had hoped tonight would be different. That for once, she could fit in.

"I want her here. She's my date."

The lady -Ruby- spun on her heel so quick, her dress flared out. "Bucky," she crooned, her voice sugary-sweet, so different than a moment ago. "You're lookin' like a real Fred Astaire out there tonight. Let's go-"

Bucky did not even look her way as he slid back onto the bench, eyes focused on Elana. "You alright there, doll?"

She nodded numbly, staring at the table. Twirling a strand of hair absent-mindedly around her finger, she tried to force the tears from falling. It was not even the worst insult she had heard hurled at her, but it still cut her to the quick. Every time.

"Why don't we head out, yeah? Steve there looks like he's gettin' a little warm and the music ain't so good tonight." Bucky said gently.

She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.

"Bucky, stay…" Ruby tried one last time but he leveled a glare at her that made her take a step back.

"Take a powder, Ruby, I ain't interested."

Bucky wrapped his hand around Elana's, entwining their fingers as he slid out of the booth with her right behind him. Without even a backwards glance, he led the three of them out of the dance hall. Elana kept her head down the whole time, unable to meet anyone's eyes for fear of what she would see.

The night air was blissfully cool after the heat of the dance hall. It kissed her skin as if trying to help calm her down. At this point, the street was not as busy, everyone mostly inside now. Only a few pedestrians and cars interrupted the quiet scene.

"Elana, I'm so sorry."

"Debería irme. No debería haber venido. Soy tan estúpida." She muttered to herself, not even hearing Bucky's statement. It was a foolish idea to come out. For so long she had tried to fit in, especially as a child. Her mother always told her to be herself and embrace her difference. That was easier said than done. Tonight felt like a taste of it when she was on the dance floor. What things could have been like if everyone was accepted. If where she was from did not matter. She had been so happy dancing with Bucky, this handsome devil who treated her like she was special, holding her hand in front of everyone. Sure, Steve said he danced with a lot of girls but for tonight, she was someone while on his arm. She was someone special.

And oh, did she love the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. Him holding her close as they danced, his warm breath hitting her neck just right. He was trouble, through and through. Her mother would call him a Casanova and tell her to run the other way. Yet she did not want to. He drew something out of her. An almost recklessness. A desire for more. More in life. To experience life with a passion. Both this new feeling and Bucky’s presence were addicting...and she found herself unable to turn away. At least not for tonight. She wanted to revel in it tonight.

It was not until a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to meet a pair of worried baby blue eyes that she was jolted from her internal spiral.

"Hey, hey. I have no idea what you're sayin' but it don't sound good. Why don't we walk for a bit, mmm? The night's still young."

Wordlessly, she followed. It was then she noticed Bucky was still holding her hand, palms flat against one another's. That realization drew a small smile on her lips. On her other side walked Steve, hands in his pockets but a genuine smile on his face when he caught her eye. Even after all this, these two Brooklyn boys wanted to be with her. With that in mind, she shoved her despair and pain away. Let tomorrow bring what worries that came with it. Tonight she wanted to be reckless without fear of the consequences. Tonight was supposed to be fun.

"Can't believe Ruby would say that. Always thought she was a nice dame." The brunet mused, slipping his suit jacket back on before taking Elana's hand once again.

"She only showed what she wanted you to see, Buck."

"Dance with a girl a couple times and she thinks you owe her or somethin'."

The blond quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "Was it only dancin'?"

"What you gettin' at, Rogers?"

"You ditched some other girl for her once before."

His head swiveled to stare at the smaller man in shock. "I did?"

Elana spoke up. "Sounds like you have quite the selection of dance partners to choose from."

Steve snorted. "Guy has been doll-dizzy since he was twelve."

"What can I say? I appreciate fine art." Bucky said with a self-satisfied grin.

"Don't usually lock lips with paintings or statues…"

"You know what, Rogers!"

Elana laughed as Bucky let go of her hand to race around her and put Steve in a headlock. The two pretended to box for a couple minutes, grins on both their faces. When finished, the champion boxer slid up to her, a rakish smile teasing his lips as he claimed her hand back.

"Well if those gals are fine art, you sweetheart, are a masterpiece." He twirled her around once, making her dress flare out around her legs. "Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?"

"Yes, Bucky."

"Good, I'd hate for you to forget." He winked and the trio started walking again.

"Oh, here." Steve suddenly said, fishing something out of his pocket. He held out his hand almost shyly.

She took the offered item to see it was the napkin with the sketch on it. "Oh, Steve. Muchas gracias." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red stain behind. "Oops."

"Here." Bucky tossed over a handkerchief to Steve.

She glanced at the napkin one more time before reverently placing it in her clutch. She already knew where she was going to put this in her room so she would always remember this night.

"Oh drat." Steve said after glancing at his watch. "It's almost eleven. I have class early tomorrow."

"Go on, punk. I'll look after her."

Elana hugged Steve and was thrilled when he squeezed her back just as tightly. "I'm so happy to have met you."

"This isn't goodbye, right?"

"I hope not. You have more artwork to show me."

He blushed yet nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug.

"Night, Steve."

"Night, jerk."

Together, they watched Steve walk down the sidewalk, wave back at them then disappear down the next street.

"Wanna keep walkin'?"

She nodded. She knew she should go home. It was getting late and she still had to get back to Queens. Yet walking side by side with this man whom she had only met several hours ago, she found the idea abhorrent. Glancing up at the night sky, only a couple of the stars were visible through the smoke, clouds and street lamps. They were lovely though, a reminder that there were greater things out there, one just had to look for them. At least, that is what her father always said.

"Hey," Bucky's voice pulled her attention back, "I never got to say it earlier but thanks...for havin’ Steve's back earlier today. Punk doesn't know when to quit."

"I'm glad he got in that fight...is that odd? If he didn't, I wouldn’t have met either one of you."

"Alright, this ONE time I'm glad he got in a fight. Though, we probably would have ran into each other eventually."

They walked in comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Two cars passed them separately and only a handful of people walked their way. Otherwise it almost felt like they were alone. It was peaceful, still holding hands and wandering the streets of Brooklyn.

"Y'know, I was kinda hopin' we'd get at least one slow song at the dance hall."

"Me too." She confessed.

"Well, we should!" An idea sparked in his eyes. "Wait here." He moved over to one of the parked cars near them. He tried to open it but it was locked so he moved to the next one. This one opened without hesitation and he slid in. The whole time Elana switched between watching Bucky and scanning the streets for someone to yell at them. What was he thinking? Suddenly music came on, drifting from the radio through the open passenger door.

Bucky stood there, leaning against the car with the biggest grin on his smug face. "Who needs a dance hall?"

She laughed, understanding what he had done. "We’re going to get in trouble."

"No, we ain't. C'mon."

"Oh, Dios mío, yes we are!"

"Dance with me." He cooed, standing before her looking like an Adonis.

With that lazy smirk and enthralling blue eyes staring down at her, refusal was not an option. The words died on her tongue as she stared up at him. The music was slow, a singer crooning about his love. The moment felt like something from a fairytale story her mother would tell her as a little girl. She knew she should go home. Stop this heat that seared through her when she found herself caught in his eyes. Stop the butterflies in her stomach when around him. Stop the way she melted under his touch, his hands always so gentle.

But she wanted this. Right now. To pretend this was her reality. To dance with her prince under the stars. That love did not care about the differences in their skin tones. For when the sun rose and this dream faded, reality would seep back in. Plus, he was a charmer. Doll-dizzy. She would not keep his attention past this night.

For now though, she could pretend. Enjoy the night in a way she never had before.

He placed her hands behind his neck and his on her hips. Standing there under the streetlight and distant starlight, they danced, swaying back and forth. Her head landed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath it. So steady and soothing. The world faded away around them, the only things that mattered was their dancing and the music. It wrapped around them like a warm, thick blanket. Enveloping them in a sense of security and vitality. One of his hands slowly traced her spine leaving a trail of fire behind. His cheek pressed against the top of her head. She felt safe...and wanted. A heady feeling that she could sense herself beginning to crave even more. Her hand tangled in the hair, her fingers lightly scraping the back of his neck.

"Say something in Spanish." He whispered, his lips against her scalp.

"Gracias por esto ... todo esto. Ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida".

She looked back up at him, hoping to convey without words what she said. As she lifted her head up, their eyes locked. Tension filled the empty space around them, pulling them closer. For a split second, his eyes drifted to her lips and back up. Her heartbeat began racing anew. Slowly, as if waiting for her to turn away, his head tilted towards hers, his hands gripping her just a little tighter. His breath fanned across her face, warming her inside and out. She swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. His nose brushed hers, an almost timid action that drew a smile from her. He chuckled silently then somehow pulled her even closer. She closed her eyes, a gasp escaping her when she felt the faintest touch of his lips on the corner of her mouth.

"Hey! Hey, you kids! What ya doin’ with my car?!"

All the tension evaporated like rain drops under the scorching sun.

"Shit...c'mon!" He grabbed her hand and started running away. Holding on tight, she ran next to him, as well as she could while wearing heels. The yells of the car's owner soon a distant sound behind them.

Finally, they stopped two streets later. He let go of her hand, running his hands through his hair and pacing. She leaned against the brick wall, hand over her mouth, giggles spilling forth between gasps of air. Never in her life had she done anything like this. She closed her eyes as the giggles turned into full-body laughter. One hand covered her mouth and the other wrapped around her own waist to try and contain the sound. This night was nothing like she expected but it only seemed to get better and better. This newfound revelry of youthful zeal, this silly recklessness...she wanted more and more of it.

When the laughter dissolved into small chuckles, she wiped her eyes as she opened them, hoping her make-up had not smudged too much. Not that she particularly cared in the moment.

What she saw standing before her killed the laughter on her tongue.

Bucky stood just at arm's length, staring at her like she was the stars in the heavens.

In a single step, he crowded her against the brick wall. "Elana…" he growled, voice low, and it might have been the most exhilarating sound she had ever heard. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, their lips just pressed together. A soft pressure that made her melt into his arms.

He leaned back to press his forehead against hers. His breath just as shaky as hers, both still breathing hard from their run.

"That was my first kiss." She blurted out, immediately regretting the words once they escaped.

He leaned back to look her in the eye. "Really?"

She shrugged nervously. "Not many fellas lining up to kiss a girl like me."

"Their loss, doll face." He smirked, running a thumb over her bottom lip. "May I have the honor of your second kiss ever?"

She giggled and nodded.

This time when their lips touched, it felt like more. The first was like licking the spoon used after mixing cookie dough. A taste of what was to come. The second kiss was eating warm cookies right out of the oven and practically ascending to heaven.

His lips slanted over hers perfectly, as if they were formed just for her. Their mouths moved in tandem, picking up speed. No longer were the kisses sweet and gentle. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she willingly opened her mouth to receive it like a present. These kisses were all-consuming and fiery. It was as if his touch seared into her soul, leaving an imprint there for all eternity.

She knew right away when she met Bucky Barnes, he was trouble. He was the kind of man her mother warned her about. The kind to sweep her off her feet and make her forget the world around her. He was kind, charming and so full of life. Yet she knew even as she was wrapped in his arms, lips pressed against his, that there was one truth that would haunt her. Even if she ignored it for now. That truth would never leave. So she overlooked it, sinking deeper and deeper into his kisses and embrace. Drowning herself in him. With her back pressed against the wall, her hands tangled in his hair and mouths devouring one another, she had never felt more alive.

Tonight, she would choose the fire he poured into her. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy life without fear. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that this night would never end. To thrive in this feeling of passion and life, that nothing could go wrong.

For the truth was one day, he was bound to break her heart.

#marveldiversitychallenge #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky/ofc #bucky fic #Steve Rogers #Hispanic!ofc #POC character #40s!steve #40s!bucky #40s!#1940s #mzwrites

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Little Treasures

Written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge Secret Santa event! The deadline was Wednesday and I was totally on track to be done by then when everything went crazy. So, a little late, but I hope you still enjoy it @piscesangelina! The prompts I used were first Christmas with baby and decorating the Christmas tree.

The total silence in the apartment as he entered told him that the sacred hour of naptime had begun.

The mess in the front room and his slightly wild-eyed wife sitting in the middle of it told him that Marinette had a Project. He paused a moment, a fond smile curling his lips at the focused frown on hers, watching the way her eyes darted back and forth as her amazing, lightning-quick mind worked.

Even as he watched, her lips pressed together and she made a tiny nod. Smile widening into an amused grin, Luka closed the door quietly behind him and set his guitar down. “Hey.”

Marinette jumped and looked up. “Oh, hi,” she smiled, but her eyes were quickly drawn back to the pile of stuff surrounding her, and she began sorting it into piles.

Luka allowed himself to pout just a little, ignoring Sass’ hissing laugh as the kwami emerged from the coat Luka was removing. “Do I get to know what’s in the works?” he asked, tossing his coat over the back of the couch before carefully skirting the stuff scattered on the floor to a chair.

“I just wanted to do this thing,” Marinette said distractedly, sitting back slightly and tangling one hand in her bangs as she tried to think and speak at the same time. “And I’m trying to make a plan.”

“Okay,” Luka said slowly, raising his eyebrows. “Is this a work thing or a passion project or a shut up Luka it’s a Christmas secret thing?”

Marinette dropped her hand and made a face at him, but then she smiled, finally focusing on him, and he softened at once, willing as always to forgive her momentary neglect in the face of something she was excited about. And she was definitely excited, he noted as her eyes took on that familiar sparkle. “Neither,” she said, her fingers clenched on the scrap of fabric she was holding. “It’s just that it’s Erika’s first Christmas—well, her first real Christmas since she was too small last year, and I still want to have a tree, but we need to have things on it that she can’t break or hurt herself with. And one of the bloggers I follow had this really cute idea for an advent calendar full of handmade ornaments, and it seemed like so much fun! So I was looking at patterns on my phone and things while Erika was playing this morning, and I printed out all these ideas, and now I’m trying to figure out which ones I have supplies for and make a shopping list.” She paused, looking up at him. “Is it crazy? Is it too much?”

“Maybe,” Luka chuckled, leaning his chin on his hand as he winked at her. “But I love it. I bet we can make it work. She’s going to bed pretty consistently these days, we should have some time in the evenings. If we don’t take on too much on top of it,” he gave her a knowing grin, and it was Marinette’s turn to pout. “I think we can get it done.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows slightly. “We?”

“Of course,” Luka grinned, grabbing a ball of yarn from a pile at his feet and tossing it at her playfully. “You don’t think you’re doing all this yourself do you? I know I’m not as handy as you but I can sew a straight line and do some beading.”

Marinette’s face lit up. “That’s true, you used to make those bracelets and things. I bet we can find something like that!”

“So,” Luka said, sliding off the chair and crawling carefully towards her. “Tell me what we’re working with, and let’s see if we can work out a plan that won’t have you tearing your hair out on Christmas Eve.” He kissed her nose when he was in front of her, and she moved some stuff to make room for him to fold his long legs and sit beside her. Luka slipped his arm around her waist, and though Marinette’s eyes were going distant again, she snuggled into his side, so he was satisfied.

“Well,” she began, “the idea is you have this big square with all these little pockets, and the ornaments have to fit inside.” She pulled out a sheet of paper that had been pinned under her leg and showed him the diagram on it. “That part’s easy, I can whip that up today even.” She paused, and checked her watch, then nodded. “As long as she sleeps her usual time. Or if not, I can get it done at the end of one of my work times, if you don’t mind keeping her entertained a little longer than usual.”

“I can manage,” Luka nodded. “No problem. So what do you have in mind for ornaments?”

Marinette flashed him a grin, and Tikki popped out of a pile of fabric near his knee, giggling. “That’s the fun part!” Tikki cried, taking flight and making a loop in the air as Marinette pulled out another stack of papers and spread them out in front of him.

Luka surveyed the drawings and notes and patterns, met Marinette’s eyes, and began to laugh. “Oh, I love it.”

The next few weeks were busy, but a ton of fun. They had divvied up the projects, and both Luka and Marinette were snatching any spare time they could get away from the eyes of their curious almost-toddler, to finish their respective pieces. Marinette gave Luka a Look when she ran the vacuum over the carpet and dozens of tiny beads rattled up into it. Luka raised his eyebrows and picked several snippets of yarn off the arm of one of the chairs. Marinette pursed her lips and said nothing.

Luka went to work with a project bag tucked in his guitar case. Marinette knitted and crocheted her way through meetings. Both of them shoved projects under cushions or behind their backs whenever Erika left her playing and toddled near to be picked up and cuddled.

On the last night of November, after Erika had gone to bed, they hung the large fabric square Marinette had made on the wall, and carefully tucked each of their projects into the twenty-five little pockets she had sewed onto it. Though they’d stayed up late the last few nights trying to finish, a few pockets were still empty, but Luka and Marinette were both confident and determined that they could finish the ornaments before their number was up. Luka bit his lip to keep in a chuckle when he saw the numbers Marinette had appliqued to the pockets were embellished with little embroidered motifs.

“Overachiever,” Luka muttered, and grinned when Marinette elbowed him.

“I’m so excited,” Marinette whispered, bouncing on her toes. “I can’t wait. How are we going to wait, Luka?”

Luka laughed. “Well, we could try going to sleep. That would probably help.”

Marinette turned toward him and put her arms around his neck. “Have I mentioned how much I love it when we collaborate.”

“Say it again,” Luka laughed, already bending to kiss her. “I love to hear it.” Marinette leaned up to meet his lips with hers and he happily lost himself in kissing her, in the familiar yet thrilling feel of her body against his.

“Thisss is not ssssleeping,” came a comment from somewhere behind him and over his head.

“Shut up, Sass,” Luka muttered, “Get lost and let me kiss my wife.”

He barely even noticed Tikki’s giggles blending with Sass’s sibilant laugh as Marinette pulled him back in and they melted together.

The next morning they could hardly manage to finish breakfast before they were holding Erika’s little hands and helping her toddle over to stare with round eyes.

“Look, see the pockets?” Marinette pointed, tucking her finger in one to and wiggling it a bit to show Erika.

“Pocket!” Erika repeated, eagerly. She hadn’t quite figured out what pockets were used for but she knew that she liked pockets. Every time Luka tried to show her how to put something in her pockets, she took it out immediately with a frown and a scolding, but she loved pointing out how many pockets her outfit had. She stared appreciatively at the twenty-five pockets before her.

“Every day, we look in one pocket,” Marinette told her. “One pocket. Then we put what we find there on the tree for Erika to look at.”

Erika looked puzzled.

“Shall we do our first pocket?” Marinette prompted, but her shoulders slumped slightly when Erika frowned and drew back a little.

“Go ahead,” Luka said, leaning forward and wiggling the small object in the pocket. “Pull it out and see what it is?”

Still frowning, Erika clung to him. Marinette suppressed a sigh. “Mommy do it?” she suggested, and Erika’s frown pulled into a pout.

“No,” she said firmly. “Wicka do it.”

“Okay, then go ahead,” Marinette said encouragingly, mostly hiding her frustration. Luka was trying not to laugh and Marinette gave him a look that said she was going to strangle him later.

“Kids,” Luka sighed, and squeezed Marinette’s shoulder gently. “She’ll get it.” Marinette relaxed a little under his hand, and tried again.

It took some more coaxing and Luka’s guiding hand on hers, but finally Erika reached in, her little fingers caught the loop, and she pulled it out as her parents cheered and applauded.

The first ornament was a little knitted ladybug with five spots and blue bug eyes. Erika squealed, lighting up, and danced around with it, showing it proudly to first one of them and then the other. She was so excited that she almost wouldn’t let them hang it on the tree. Finally, she let Luka show her how to loop it over one of the low branches. Delighted, Erika flopped down on her back and wiggled under the tree, looking up at the lights and batting playfully at the little ladybug. Luka grinned at Marinette, who did an adorably wiggly little victory dance that ended with her hopping up and down with a silent scream.

Marinette smiled radiantly the next night when Erika, bouncing with excitement, reached into the pocket almost before Marinette could get the camera ready, and pulled out the snake made of sparkling beads that Luka had worked so hard on. It coiled around on itself and had a familiar diamond pattern along the back, its glittering red tongue extended. It was worth the eye strain, Luka felt, nearly bursting with pride, as Erika poked around the tree trying to find a place where the light would shine on it just right to show it off in all its glory. Behind her back Luka and Sass did a pinky-to-flipper high five. When Erika went to bed that night, Marinette kissed Luka hard, squishing his face between her hands. “You’re such a good dad,” she giggled.

Of course, no one could be left out. There was a cloth butterfly ornament with gossamer wings, and a little crocheted black cat that bore a frankly impressive resemblance to Plagg (Adrien had seen it and begged for one for his own tree). The rooster was a cooperative effort, with a knitted body and beaded tail. The peacock was cross stitch done on plastic canvas in metallic thread. The little patchwork dog was an especially big hit.

Of course, there were only eighteen kwamis and twenty-five days until Christmas, so they had to think outside the (Miracle) box for the rest. There was a little baker’s hat to represent Papa Tom, and a tasseled Chinese mystic knot done in red cord accented with gold for Sabine. A pair of pink and purple kittycorn masks made out of glittery paper and sequins dangled from a single cord for Juleka and Rose, and a little wooden boat garishly painted and embellished with turquoise beads represented Anarka. They had debated long and hard for Gina (because Marinette shot down Luka’s suggestion of doing a shrinky-dink motorcycle, which he pouted about for days) and finally Marinette had found a small prism in a thrift shop and repurposed it for an ornament. Erika loved to poke it and watch the way it made light dance on the walls. Luka suggested a stick in the mud for Roland and was scolded harshly (once Marinette stopped laughing).

It was worth all the pricked fingers and late nights of problem solving every day when they saw Erika, bouncing with excitement, pull each new ornament out of its pocket and exclaim over it in her little baby voice, before gravely examining the tree to decide exactly where the new ornament would go.

The upper boughs, Luka and Marinette filled themselves with ornaments they had collected over the years. Each one was a memory and most went on the tree with a fond smile and a quick kiss, with occasional exclamations of “Oh, remember this one?”

There was a hand-painted glass ornament from Milan that they’d found in a shop as they wandered the streets after Marinette’s first fashion week there. There was a silly, cheap tourist souvenir of the Eiffel Tower that Luka secretly hated but for some reason Marinette wouldn’t throw away. There was a blown glass jaguar Luka had gotten in Brazil when he was there for a show.

It was a retrospective of the life they had built together, and Erika’s array of handmade ornaments around the bottom just gave it that extra touch of sentiment.

“I gotta hand it to you,” Luka murmured as he put his arms around Marinette from behind. “You always have the best plans.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek as she leaned back into him.

Marinette hummed agreement and satisfaction, glancing over at the one pocket remaining. Inside was an ornament made from a small oval frame that now held a photo of the three of them. Sass and Tikki were in it too, even though they were invisible. “We’ll know,” Marinette had insisted, and the kwamis had humored her.

“Thanks for going along with my crazy ideas,” she said, turning in Luka’s arms to hug him tight. He bent towards her but she put a finger against his lips to stop him. “No time for that,” she told him with a smile. “Santa Claus has a train set to put together before morning.”

Luka sighed, but kissed her finger. “I guess Santa better get to work then.” He grinned, and without warning, dipped low to catch Marinette around the waist and tip her over his shoulder. “Come on Mrs. Claus,” he said as she muffled a squeal to keep from waking the baby. “Thanks to someone’s over-enthusiastic father we have a freakishly detailed and intricate train set to assemble, and there’s no way you’re getting out of helping.”

“Helping,” Marinette huffed, kicking her feet lightly. “You’d be lost without me.”

“I would,” Luka chuckled, patting her thigh. “I really would.”

#quickspins #lbsc sprint fic challenge #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #lbsc secret santa #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #sprint fic #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #quicksprints

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.11}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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It was that time of the year again before Robin knew. As always, christmas had approached fast and suddenly rather than steadily, but the festive spirit had been long evident throughout the entire month of December. The holidays this year looked a little different than usual though; Cas had been asked by a fifth year student to attend the new year's ball with him, upon which she spontaneously had decided to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. Robin had offered to take Jorien to the ball as her plus one, but the girl had decided to just go home as planned. So it was just Cas and Robin who would attend the ball this year.

Honestly, Robin felt weary of the boy who had asked Cas out. He seemed nice enough at the first glance, but something about him was ringing an alarm bell in the back of her mind. Cas obviously didn't care about Robin's words of warning, saying how she at least had a date for the ball, which probably should've hurt Robin more than it did. After this rather uncomfortable conversation however, she had decided to keep her concerns to herself, but an eye on Cas nonetheless. She didn't want her to get hurt, not even by something that, to her, was so ridiculously irrelevant as teenage drama. Because she knew that to Cas, it wasn't irrelevant at all.

The last day of the year came, and before long Robin thanked herself for actually bothering to invest in a dress this year. And she foremost thanked herself for having the endurance last summer to actually make an effort and not just get the first best one in Diagon Alley, which would've merely been a differently coloured version of what pretty much all of the other girls wore (with a few honorable exceptions, of course). No, Robin had made the decision to go with her own taste rather than the attempt to fit in, and she still stood behind it to the fullest.

Cas on the other hand had about five different dresses lying on her bed and was desperate to pick one, which did not even come as a surprise to Robin. The girl's love for fashion had exploded rather than faded, and while Robin had no idea why Cas had packed so many pretty dresses unaware that she would be attending the ball, it also didn't particularly surprise her.

"You should wear the dark blue one." Robin commented from her seat on her own bed, while she unsuccessfully tried to untangle her hair. "It reminds me of the nightsky. And who doesn't love the night?"

"Most people don't, actually." Cas sighed in exaggerated despair. "I was thinking about the peach coloured one with the ruffles."

"You're the fashion guru." Robin shrugged. "But I think darker colours are more classy. And the ball is very classy, most of the time. Or trying to be anyway."

"Classy or stuffy?"

"A bit of both, perhaps. Foremost, it is entirely what you make of it."

"In that case, I'll wear the peach coloured one." Cas decided with a more or less determined expression. "What about you? We're gonna be late if you don't get started at once!"

"Well, I don't have an entire wardrobe of dresses to pick between. I showered and sorted out my hair; I'll literally be done within five minutes from this point on."

"What about makeup? What about hairstyles?! What about shoes?!" Cas asked in return, incredulous about Robin's lack of enthusiasm about these things. "Seriously, aren't you gonna make any effort at all?"

"As you said, I don't have a date anyway. Nobody expects me to make an effort." Robin shrugged in return, unbothered by her roommate's comments. "And since you obviously didn't see me for the last few years, I will kindly let you know that putting on an actual dress this year IS me making an effort."

"I cannot believe you. I just cannot believe you…" Cas rolled her eyes as she muttered to herself, but then went ahead to get ready herself and leave Robin reading on her bed in peace for the next hour and a half. That's how long it took Cas to go through all of her extensive preparations and procedures, and Robin thought it was admirable how much effort she put into this indeed.

Finally, twenty minutes before the ball would begin and while Cas was still in the bathroom making 'last minute' adjustments to her colorful eye makeup, Robin got up from her bed with a sigh, put her book down and dug her dress out of her trunk at last. Like most things she bought these days, it was almost entirely black, but for the silver ornamentations and spiky flowers sewed onto the shoulders. Everything from the waist down was flowing black fabric, as was the long pieces that attached to the shoulders instead of sleeves, billowing down the arms like a backless cape. That precisely was also what made it difficult to put on, without stepping onto the piles of fabric that however barely brushed the ground once she pulled it up. The neckline came in high at the sides, almost high enough to cover up her scar, while the front was curved into a low V shape, that had always reminded Robin of spades. The solid black of the simple corset made up for the detailing on the shoulders and the heavy billowing fabrics of the skirt, and its snug fit and the thick fabric were comforting rather than confining to her. For once, Robin actually felt powerful through wearing a mere piece of clothing. And while perhaps she might not fit in with the other students, she definitely would with the professors.

"Bloody hell!" Cas suddenly exclaimed, and Robin jumped in return, twirling around to face the girl who spoke on in the meanwhile. "How dare you looking that gorgeous?!"

Robin's face heated up in an instant, and even though it was Cas she was talking to, she couldn't help being flustered. "Uh, thanks, I guess."

"I mean, I still stand with my statement that you shouldn't wear so much black, but good gracious… that dress is a piece of art. And it just screams 'Robin' to me, so you actually did pick well for once!"

"Don't sound so surprised." Robin rolled her eyes, while she had to smile nonetheless. "But thank you anyway. I wanted to look like myself tonight, and not like I dressed up as someone I'm not."

"But dressing up as someone you're not for one night is the entire point of it!" Cas replied with a grin, then dimmed it down to a smile. "But I understand you, and I think you look exactly like yourself. Just more beautiful than usual."

"Thanks…" Robin scoffed in humour, torn between sarcasm and honesty, and thus settled for both. "Again."

"So tell me, who do you wanna impress with that dress?" Cas quirked an eyebrow at Robin, smirking while she observed her closely. "And don't tell me no one, because I know you, and you wouldn't have made an effort just for yourself."

"Everyone." Robin answered instead, deeming it just as not-saying as 'no one'. Meanwhile, she tried to find a place to store her wand, which was turning out to be an actual problem now. No sleeves, no real sleeves at least, and no hemlines or pockets. Great. Then however an idea struck her, and in no time she had twisted her hair up into a bun, which she could easily fixate with her wand indeed. Two problems solved with one action, wonderful.

"I cannot believe you just did that." Cas commented on Robin's action in an instant. "And I cannot believe that it actually looks good! I spent an hour doing my hair, and you just… use your wand like a hair accessory within two bloody seconds."

Robin sighed in return, but she had to smile once again at Cas and her view of the world. "Your hair looks a million times better, believe me. I'm not trying to look good, I'm only trying to look acceptable while being functional. That's a difference."

"If you say so…" Cas sighed, and the two girls finally started making their way up to the great hall. "Coming back to my question though; who do you really want to impress? Is it that boy who's sitting next to you in Professor Morgan's class since recently?"

"Alexander? God no!" Robin snorted, shaking her head to herself while she actually enjoyed striding through the hallways quite so elegantly for once. "If you must know, I'm not trying to impress someone, but to prove a point to someone."

"Uuh!" Cas squealed quietly, skipping in her steps next to Robin in glee. "To whom? And which point?"

"You would do well to focus on your own date for now. Where did he want to meet you again?"

"Just outside the hall. You won't scare him off, Robin, will you? I know you don't like him, but he's really cool and so are his friends, and I don't wanna be the stupid third year whose big sister has to watch over her."

"You won't even notice me tonight, unless you need me. Good?"

"Yes. Thank you." Cas smiled, then took a deep breath while her smile widened even more. "I'm actually going to the ball! With a cute boy! Can you believe it?! I've waited for this moment for months!!!"

"I hope tonight is everything you dreamt of." Robin replied with a small smile, but it was tainted by concern no less. Just shortly before they reached the last crossing before the great hall, she turned to Cas once more. "Don't get into trouble, and don't do anything stupid. I don't want to find you drunk in our bathroom later or anything of that sort."

"Yes, professor." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but gave Robin a small hug nonetheless, before she skipped ahead and towards wherever she would meet her date.

Robin decided to give Cas a little while at least, to spare her the embarrassment of arriving with her watchdog indeed. When she finally did make her way into the great hall, she was barely still on time, with two more minutes to go until the festivities would begin. The very moment she entered the hall, a few more eyes were drawn to her than in the last years, but not enough to make her feel observed. At least Robin didn't notice enough eyes on her to feel like people were actually paying attention to her. In an instant, she moved to stand off to the side and let her eyes trail over the crowds in the search for her own company.

"Looking for something?" Snape's voice was so close behind her that Robin jumped for the second time this evening, but then turned around to him with a smile. The very moment she did, she believed to see a glimpse of sincere awe flashing through his eyes, but she might as well be mistaken. She probably was, unfortunately. It might just be the candles and some wishful thinking.

"Looking for someone." She smiled up at him in amusement. "But it seems that someone found me first."

"How very fortunate for you." He replied with a not-smirk, as much of it as he would show in public at least, and his gaze flickered over her garments for just a second before returning to her eyes. "Did you have to choose black?"

"Obviously." She smirked, feeling highly amused by his difficulty to show a suitable reaction to her choice of outfit.

"It suits you."

Now, that she hadn't expected, but she appreciated it nonetheless as her smirk turned into a smile. "Thank you."

"How… came the change in your choice of attire for tonight's event?"

"You complained last year that I was wearing the same thing I wore to the conference the summer before." Robin shrugged, observing his almost uncertain expression. "Thought I'd prove to you that I can look nice too, when I actually try."

"You didn't need to." He mused, but before Robin could give a reply, both their attention was drawn to the front of the room where Dumbledore was getting started with his welcoming speech.

Robin turned towards the front to at least pretend to listen, and a few seconds later she noticed the gentle hand that came to rest on the small of her back. She had to smile in an instant, glancing up at Snape out of the corners of her eyes, but he was looking towards the front as neutrally and indifferently as always, always the contrast to his lingering touch. Oh, how she had missed this.

… … …

As soon as the possibility had come up, Snape and Robin had moved back into their usual corner and to their usual table. For a good two hours they stayed sitting there like always, in their usual habit of gossiping and teasing, until at last the inevitable happened, the one thing Robin had indeed seen coming all along.

With the saddest face in history, Cas came approaching them with an expression showing precisely that she was barely able to keep her tears from spilling over. Robin's immediate line of thought went along the path of 'told you so', but she frowned it away and out of her mind, and instead jumped to her feet in honest concern.

"I'll be back in a second." She said to Snape, who nodded in return, then she went to meet Cas a few steps further down the wall. They weren't technically out of sight, but out of earshot at least. "What happened?"

"As if that would be so hard to guess." Cas replied with a scoff, crossing her arms over her chest but making herself so small at the same time that it appeared more as a gesture of holding herself together than defiance. Robin simply went ahead and hugged her then, out of an impulse, and Cas immediately clung onto her in return. "You were right… He's an asshole."

"What did he do?" Robin asked softly, drawing reassuring circles on her friend's back, while on the inside however, she felt furious. Whatever that boy had done, he would pay for making Cas cry. Even if it was just teenage drama, Robin wasn't having it tonight. Or perhaps she just needed a deserving victim for her own annoyance at Cas for not listening to her any earlier.

"He and his two stupid friends wanted to go and hang out somewhere else, somewhere more interesting than here and 'have a little fun'. I said I didn't want to, so they just made fun of me for being such a prudish child and dreadfully boring. Then they just laughed at me and Jos said he should never have asked me to the ball." She mumbled into Robin's shoulder, and only a few seconds later she looked up at her again. "I'm not boring, am I?"

"Not at all." Robin replied with a small smile. "I'm very proud of you for not letting them drag you into something you didn't want to do."

"It's not even that I'm scared to do something forbidden… I couldn't care less, honestly, unless it's something really bad. But I just want to stay here for a while, you know… to enjoy the ball. I like the ball." Cas shrugged, still looking sad about it. "No need to insult me for that, right?"

"Nothing gives them the right to insult you at all." Robin replied pointedly, then let her eyes trail over the room for a second before turning back to Cas. "Did they leave already?"

"No… they wanted to find some other people first who would actually be willing to go with them for their private party." The girl scoffed, pushing her hair behind her ear with a bit more confidence already. "Why?"

"I should have a little talk with Jos, and with his friends as well if needed." Robin stated in a dangerous calm, then started pulling Cas along, back towards her table. Without making much fuss about it, she sat Cas down next to Snape. "Wait here, yes? I'll be right back."

"You don't have to, Robin, really, it's-..."

"Yes, I do have to." She replied calmly, ignoring both Cas' insecure look and Snape's mildly irritated one, and then turned on her heel to find the boy in question. They really needed to have a talk; no one mistreated or ridiculed her friends.

Jos really wasn't too difficult to find, his group of friends practically entertained the entire section of the room. 'Cool and popular' Cas had said… more like 'jocks and jerks'. Robin approached him without slowing down, and even though the boy was only a fifth year, he was a good head taller than her. That didn't intimidate her in the least however, and while being surrounded by so many people, so many strangers, would've made her nervous in any other situation, it did not do so now. She was on a mission, and somehow her body seemed to understand that.

"Jos?" She merely asked in a cold calm tone once she stood facing the boy.

"Uh, yeah? That would be me." He quirked an eyebrow down at her in amusement, while his pals nudged him in the sides with utterly pathetic grins. "The one and only."

"I thought so." Robin returned, then didn't waste a second to follow her impulses once again. The thing about physically strong people was that they usually spent ridiculously little time guarding their minds. Thus it was but an effortless thought on Robin's part, and she was in his mind, staring him down at the same time while he stumbled backwards against a table, then slumped down on the bench behind his legs. She felt his mind trying to lock her out, but it was a pathetic attempt at the most, and thus she went ahead to give him a very clear visual of what would happen to him should he ever dare to say a single bad word about Cas again, in her presence or not. After half a minute of this the boy was a terrified mess, half sitting and half sprawled out on the bench, looking up at Robin with teary eyes while she withdrew from his mind at last. Then she turned to his gawking friends, who hadn't even tried to help their pal.

"Would anyone else like to know what happens when you mess with the wrong people?" She asked politely, and five people shook their heads immediately. As much as she wanted to smirk at that, she kept her face neutral. "Great. Have a nice evening."

Without waiting for their reactions, she turned around once more and made her way through the hall and back towards her own table, feeling her confidence fade the moment she was out of their sight. Geez… she really shouldn't have done that. All those years she'd been doing her best to stand above such impulsive behaviour, and here she was now, mildly torturing a lower year. Letting off steam on other people. Great job, idiot. Perhaps it was the dress that gave her the illusion of too much power. Perhaps it was Snape's company.

"And? How did it go?" Cas asked the very second Robin approached them, and the girl luckily looked a lot more like herself already. Not sad and small anymore, but excited and almost happy again, and Robin found that this was what had made her own uncharacteristic behavior worth it in the end. To see her friends happy, she would gladly go against her higher standards.

"I made him cry." Robin sighed in resignation, and sat down on the bench in between Cas and Snape. "It was a very wrong thing to do though, so don't take it as an example. A negative one, perhaps."

"I don't care if it was wrong, you made him cry for me and that's awesome." Cas grinned, then almost knocked Robin off the bench with a tight hug. "Thank you! I really should have listened to you earlier…"

"It's nothing, really. But yes, you should have." Robin huffed in amusement, even though she still felt mildly concerned about the entire 'revenge leads to more revenge' thing. But she hadn't seen any speckle of that in Jos' mind, so perhaps it really wasn't an issue for once. Not when it was about something so minor, with somebody so imbecilic.

"Uhm, sorry to, uh… to interrupt…" A foreign voice drew Robin's attention to a blond curly haired boy she couldn't remember seeing before, and Cas followed suit while she let go of Robin. The boy obviously seemed unsettled either by Snape or Robin, perhaps by both of them, for he only glanced at them nervously from time to time and otherwise focused on Cas entirely. "I, uh… I couldn't help noticing what my idiot classmates said to you, and well… I just wanted to ask if you were alright?"

Cas blushed a deep crimson, and Robin had to subtly nudge her in the side eventually to remind her that she could speak. "Uh, yeah, I… Thank you. That's… very nice of you to ask."

Robin could practically feel how Snape rolled his eyes at the scene, but she was also very much aware of the fact that he was still here despite everything that had happened in the past minutes. She couldn't help nudging him in the side as well, smirking, and he gave her a glare in return. Robin smiled even more.

"Would you… uh, would you care for a dance perhaps? With me, I mean? I could try to cheer you up with my horrible dancing skills and ridiculous jokes." The blonde boy finally got out with a crooked smile, and Cas nodded immediately. Then she gave Robin a questioning look, but she just motioned for her to go ahead already. Thus, within seconds, Cas and the boy vanished in the crowd.

"I have never seen something more pathetic in my entire life." Snape finally remarked dryly, and Robin had to snort at the comment. It was absolutely only for show, and she knew that just as well as him.

"Oh come on, I think it was adorable." She replied with a smirk. "I feel a lot better about this one than that prick she came here with."

"You are aware that I missed the important bits of the conversation, yes?"

"I know." Robin sighed, then turned to him to explain. "Fifth year, straight brown hair, very tall, called Jos. Might be a nickname though. You know him?"

"Yes. I could've told you from the start that he is a complete dunderhead."

"I for my part knew that from the start as well, but Cas didn't want to believe me when I told her. Either way, he asked her to the ball, she had high hopes, but then he and his friends made fun of her, right before she came here. So much for the pre-story." Robin sighed again, her smile faltering. "Then I did something stupid and very much unlike me. I went over there and basically bashed him in the head with a few pictures strategically placed in his mind, of what I would do to him if he kept on being an arse."

"So that's what got him to shiver in fear at the mere sight of you." Snape mused with a not-smirk, and Robin was twice surprised in return.

"You saw that?" She asked first of all, frowning.

"I did indeed. Most of it, at least."

"And you're not disappointed? Not even telling me how idiotic that was? How imbecile and irresponsible and redundant?" She added the second question right on, and part of her hoped that he would do just what she'd said, and part of her hoped for the opposite. "You've been telling me since first year how stupid impulsive reactions like this are!"

"Why would I need to tell you something you are already well aware of?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, but upon her defeated expression, he finally sighed as well. "Sometimes we do a wrong thing for the right reasons. You defended someone you care about. I doubt that could even be considered wrong in the first place."

"And using legilimency on lower years? How are you going to justify that?"

"I won't, that certainly was wrong by any means. But I enjoyed watching it nonetheless." He said with another not-smirk, which finally got Robin to smile as well. "You certainly know how to intimidate people. It's quite impressive."

"I learned from the very best." She replied with a smirk, and he rolled his eyes in return, while his own smile still lingered on his lips.

They just kept on chatting for a while then, the incident soon forgotten and insignificant, and before long things returned to normal. Almost normal, for they were left sitting closer together than ever after Cas had left, shoulders almost touching now, heat brushing against the bare skin of Robin's arms when her robe sleeves moved out of the way. She knew that he must take notice of the closeness as well, of her shoulder gently brushing against his arm from time to time whenever she moved, and yet he didn't move away at all. The thought made her smile.

They had been listening to the music for a while, merely enjoying each other's company like they did so very often, when Robin caught sight of Cas dancing with the blond boy again. It had been an hour at least since they had left to dance; obviously it was going quite well, and Robin couldn't help being curious.

"Who is the boy dancing with Cas anyway?" She asked Snape, while still keeping her eyes on the couple on the dancefloor.

"Curious, are we?" He mused in return, undoubtedly humoured. "His name is Simon Durrell, fifth year. Ravenclaw. He is quite horrible at potions, but smarter and therefore less of a nuisance than his peers. Wears his heart on his sleeves quite like your friend."

"Good." Robin smiled up at Snape at last. "I would've hated having to behead him if he was a jerk to Cas. She looks happy dancing with him."

"You should be dancing as well." Snape said in a sudden feigned neutrality that made Robin's smile fade in return. "One doesn't wear a gown like that only to hide in a corner all night."

"Why not?" She shrugged, focusing on her hands in her lap. Was he trying to get rid of her? Find a polite excuse to get away? No, that wouldn't be like him at all. He would just get up and leave if he wanted to. Robin didn’t know what he wanted to hear. "Nobody's ever asked me to dance anyway."

"Oh please... You are by far better than waiting for some dunderhead to ask you for a dance. Go and ask someone first, someone who deserves your company." His tone turned from neutral to grave in a broken second, as he turned to look away along with it. "Or at least someone who knows that they never will."

There was something ineffably sad about his words, his voice, his eyes when she looked up at him once more. He wasn't trying to get rid of her… He was giving her the chance to be happier elsewhere, without him. Robbin’s heart skipped a beat, then squeezed all air out of her lungs. If only he knew; if only she could make him understand. Then again… Perhaps she could.

"You know what? I will." Robin replied determinedly, and rose to her feet with one graceful move. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed out her dress with shaking hands, standing straight after sitting for so long, and then finally turned back around to Snape. Gods, he looked so sad under all those facades. She took another deep breath, then held out her hand to him. "Would you do me the honor and dance with me?"

______________________________

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

Encore - Harry Hook x reader - part 20 - developments

Huh….well that’s….interesting?

“Dove and Thomas broke up huh?” you muttered to yourself, scrolling through your Tumblr as most of the Descendants fandom blew up about the two actors' separation. The two had split up two months ago and had been keeping it secret for their privacy, you snorted, remembering when the rumors of Thomas cheating on Dove with you when you and Harry were spotted walking around (where u live) which had surged up again in a different way when the fans (wrongly) accused Thomas with cheating on Dove with his costar, who was forced to reveal her own relationship to get Dove fans off her back.

You had met dove before, and she was….nice enough, but her “fans” were really something else, a lot of them couldn’t get it through their heads that people were allowed to not like Dove and her characters. You had seen them message death threats to some of your mutuals just because they said “oh I don’t like Dove”

There were definitely some that were more mature and left others alone but more often than not they were fucking insane. So, you did your best to stay out of that crowd.

You heard the usual sound of Harry's heavy steps behind you and held up your phone for him to see. He made a sound of confusion and gently pried the device from your grip and scrolled through the article.

A few moments of silence later loud boisterous laughter rang through your apartment. You turned, giggling as Harry hopped around the apartment in a way you haven't seen since the after-party for Mals Engagement Party.

“celebrate good times come on~” Harry sung to himself, spinning around midair and grinning at you. You just laughed and shook your head.

“what are you so excited for?” you asked, pressing your lips together to prevent any more bursts of laughter to escape your mouth.

“now those shipped me and the purple imp together got no ground ta stand on~” Harry cackled. You couldn’t hold it anymore, loud peals of laughter escaping you as Harry continued to dance around your living room.

“oh, my gooood!” you giggling, falling to your side and holding onto your stomach. Harry side hopped over the couch and landed in front of you, setting your phone down on the coffee table behind him and grabbing your face. You squeaked and giggled as he pressed multiple little pecks to your face and lips “you-“ you tried to get a breath, once again deterred by your laughter “why-don’t you even feel a bit bad for them?”

Harry pulled back, looking off to the side and pursing his lips “I guess” he shrugged, turning back to you “I mean, they did end an….how long were they together?”

“About four years” you hummed, reaching under his arm and grabbing your phone.

“okay yeah, they did end an almost four-year relationship, I would guess they would both feel iffy about tha’ so tha’s all I feel bad abou’ I guess? I never saw wha’ they were like together so I have no say on if they were happy but…yeah, I feel bad that they were probably sad about it ending or something but now I don’t gotta deal with all that Mal x me shit” he shivered, scrunching his face a bit.

You snorted and rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to his nose and wiggling out of his arms “whatever, I gotta go” Harry whined and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you back towards him.

“whyyyyyyy” he huffed, pouting up at you and giving you his famous puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes and ran your fingers through his hair.

“I have a thing with Evie for….well you know” Harry perked up and quickly released you, his eyes shining with excitement.

“well wha’ are yeh waitin’ for! Go!” you snorted at his quick change of behavior and shook your head, turning and going into your room to grab your key and tablet which held your concept art.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon! don’t burn down the apartment!” you heard Harry groan in “frustration” and a thump on the floor as he dramatically fell back onto the floor.

“damn it! Now I gotta think of something else ta do!” you rolled your eyes at his response and pushed your key into the lock on your closet door, smiling at the usual glow of the portal that bled through the cracks of the door.

You pulled it open and stepped through, tossing one more ‘see ya’ at Harry before closing the door behind you.

Moments later you stepped out into Evie's greenhouse turned workroom. She spun around, grinning at you. “hey (y/n)! let's get started shall we!” she made grabby hands at your tablet and danced in her seat as you passed it to her and leaned against her sewing table.

She pressed the power button and grinned “beautiful, I should hire you to be my second designer (y/n)” you laughed and shook your head.

“nah, I like designing but only as a pass time heh” Evie nodded, zooming in on the details and writing down notes on a pad next to her.

“understandable” she hummed as she stood from her seat and walked over to her fabrics “any particular fabrics?”

“uhhhh” you narrowed your eyes in thought “breathable……flows easily….not heavy?” Evie giggled and shook her head.

“a wonderful visual designer but you know nothing about fabrics, well how bout chiffon for the sleeves and train around the waist leading to the back of the dress?” you nodded and picked up the note pad Evie had been writing on.

“That sounds good, um, what about tule? I know it helps with form and stuff but every time I wore it as a kid it was itchy as all heck and I couldn’t stand it” Evie shook her head, pulling out a thick roll of white shiny fabric.

“no that’ll ruin the form, make it more of a bulb shape than letting it flare out, Mikado would work better, it keeps it’s form on its own and flows pretty well” she held out the roll for you to touch. You smiled as the soft fabric brushed against your fingertips.

“Yeah, I like that, M-mikado?” Evie nodded at your guess of the name “yeah that, let's go with this for the main fabric” Evie nodded again and set the fabric to the side, grabbing the notepad from you and writing down something before handing it back to you.

You glanced down and smirked

Main Fabric - Mikado

sleeves and skirt train - chiffon

jewels on neckline - ?

waist overlay - rhinestone (sew just beneath bust and drape over hips and flow of skirt)

shoes - ?

“okay (y/n), jacket off and arms up” you glanced at Evie and wiggled your brows, laughing as she rolled her eyes and smacked your arm. “you and Harry, minds always in the gutter, now I gotta get measurements okay?” you giggled again and shrugged off your jacket, letting Evie finally get your measurements.

After a few minutes of Evie manually pushing your arms and body around, filled with fits of laughter and your torso twisting halfway around, she was done. She picked up her pencil and grabbed the note pad again and scribbled down her findings.

“Alright that’s that, I’ll start making the form, while you” she handed you a red folder “take that to Harry, and don’t look. if he can't see your dress you don’t see his suit” you snorted and rolled your eyes.

“yes, ma’am. Do you want me to leave my tablet here for a bit?” Evie gave a smile and nodded.

“if possible, yes” you nodded back and shrugged your jacket back on, digging out your key from the pocket.

“Alright then, just text me when I can come pick it up, see ya!”

“bye~” Evie gave you a little wave and turned back to her sewing table, muttering fabric measurements for your dress.

You stepped into the main hall, gave a wave to Dizzy and Celia, stuck the key into the closet door, and stepped through the portal back to your world.

You stepped back out into your room and shut the door behind you, you took your jacket back off and tossed it on your bed, setting the key on your dresser and taking the folder to harry. “hey, Evie said to give you this” Harry perked up from his spot on the couch and grabbed the red folder, a soft smile on his face as he looked over the design Evie had made for his suit.

“looks perfect” he muttered to himself, closing the folder and pulling out his phone to text the aforementioned designer. As he talked with her you busied yourself with making lunch.

While you did so thoughts of the wedding came to mind.

What day was it going to be? Where were you going to get married? Who was going to marry the two of you? Would you get married here or in the Descendants world? Who was going to be in the wedding party? Who was going to give you away?

So many questions with little to no answer.

“hmm” you muttered to yourself “well, Uma’s maid of Honor, no question there, Emma, (bff name), Jazzy, and Lily will also be bridesmaids….Dizzy and Celia as junior bridesmaids? Cj too, but the twins….ring bearers?” you sighed, rubbing your face as your head pounded at the millions of decisions you were going to have to make. “I’ll have aunt Tonks take me down to Harry….ummmm shit, the rest I’ll have to decide with Harry”

“decide what with Harry?” the pirate himself hummed, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest, laying his chin on your shoulder.

“wedding stuff” you muttered, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. He hummed again, eyes drifting down to your food.

“well, Harriet’s gonna be meh best maid” you snorted at that “beasty boy, Gil, the pup, and Jay are gonna be the groomsmen, haven’t asked ‘em yet but yeh know. Smee twins are gonna be meh junior groomsmen aaand that’s all I've thought about” Harry snorted, leaning back from you and starting to make his own lunch.

“That sounds good” you sighed, leaning against the counter and picking up your sandwich, taking a bit out of the side.

“soooo……” Harry turned to you and perked a brow up “where? Are….are we getting married in my world or yours” Harry shrugged, turning back to his sandwich.

“I don’ care’ either way, but I….I think it would be more sentimental in the meh world..since well…we fell in love there” you grinned as Harry slowly turned red.

“Aww, you are so dang cute” you teased, setting down your sandwich and walking over to him, pressing a quick kiss to his warm cheek.

He pouted and grumbled, pushing your face away. “hey!” you laughed, smacking his hand down and jumping back at him, your soft laughter turned into cackling as Harry tumbled back and yelped, arms quickly wrapping around your waist and holding you against his side.

“ye are so fuckin’ lucky I love you” He grumbled, setting you down on your feet and pecking your forehead.

“I love you too” you giggled back, reaching up and patting his cheeks twice. He blushed and looked away, grabbing his sandwich and walking to the living room.

“he’s so cute” you hummed to yourself, grabbing your lunch and following him.

-end of part 20-

Holy shit 20 parts?! Thas crazy! So max of 10 chapters left! It will end with the wedding and these last couple will lead up to it!

readers dress

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#harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #harry hook descendants #harry hook #Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #encore #reprise #part of your world #rewrite #shuffle playlist

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ag-celestina-gorillaz · 3 years

Text

Daisies and Daffodolls Day 17: Book Series

Sorry I've been MIA a lot. I've been busy doing sewing stuff (next photo challenge I'll prepare a few weeks in advance). But anyways, I took a pic of Celestina in what would be her meet outfit. Celestina's story is different in many ways than other AG characters. For one thing, she's my Gorillaz OC as well, so her story involves some Gorillaz lore as well, and her story starts at age 11 in middle school in 2016 and goes to at least 2020 when she's 15. Basic outline, Celestina is a cheerful creative girl living in Orbitz Ohio. She was raised by her mom Sharon and her stepmom Mia, (they got married in 2015 when gay marriage became legal in the US), and her dad is Stuart "2-D" Pot, the lead singer of the British band Gorillaz. In her story, Celestina faces many changes, such as her Mom starting a new paramedic job, her dad returning to England to reunite with the rest of Gorillaz to record Humanz, as well as starting her first year in middle school. I'm actually planning to write a whole book, maybe more, about Celestina, and post the chapters here on tumblr. I think I'll go ahead and post the first chapter here as a preview, but I'll post the full story later, maybe with illustrations.

Summary - It's the year 2016, and Celestina is starting her first year of middle school. While she's excited for a fresh start of the new year, she's also nervous. School uniforms, more classes, more teachers, and new classmates. Unfortunately, the school year starts out on a sour note, she barely shares any classes with her best friend, and in homeroom class, she gets paired up with Lucy Phillips, a cold, aloof, yet mysterious, new girl from Britain. Meanwhile, things aren't easier at home either, her dad ends up returning to the UK to reunite with his fellow band members to record their next album, and her mom begins work at her new paramedic job. But when Celestina begins to get close with Lucy, the new girl's iciness starts to melt, and they both learn they have more in common than they thought.

Celestina's Family and Friends

Celestina Damon - An excitable 11 year old girl starting her first year of middle school in the year 2016.

Sharon Damon - Celestina's mother, a practical, but cheerful, lady. She starts working a new job as a paramedic.

Mia Lucci - Sharon's wife and Celestina's stepmother, a funny and kind woman, she's always there when Celestina needs advice. She runs and works at The Leaning Tower of Pizza pizzeria with her twin sister Gina.

Stuart "2-D" Pot - Celestina's father, and lead singer of the British band Gorillaz. He isn't quite wired like other people, but in his own 2-D way, he's very deep, and he's also got a big heart. Despite the troubles that come with being a long distance parent, he loves Celestina immensely and tries to be in her life as much as possible.

Kailey Green - Celestina's next door neighbor and best friend since childhood. A smart and sweet girl, if a little awkward. A self proclaimed theater nerd. Often gives Celestina the nickname "Lessie".

Lucy Phillips - A new girl in Celestina's homeroom, who's family arrived from Britain. She seems mysterious and comes off as cool and guarded, but in reality, she's a little shy, and becomes much kinder and sweeter once you get to know her.

Chapter 1

New Year, New School, New Hope

The alarm clock on the bedside table chirped on and on as Celestina Damon slept in, nestled in her soft, pastel colored, blankets. She was dreaming a wonderful dream; Celestina, rocking a sparkly, purple, galaxy print dress, was singing in front of a sold out crowd on her first performance. Fans in the crowd were holding handmade signs and cheering her name. Here she is posing for pictures with fans! There she is signing autographs! She finishes her last song of the show, wishing the audience a good night. The crowd erupted into a thunderous roar of applause, fans shouting her name "Celestina! Celestina! Celestina! -"

"CELESTINA!!! WAKE UP!!!"

That did it! At the sound of her mom's voice, the young girl jolted up from her bed with a start. "Gah!" she exclaimed. Her wavy blue hair was messy and needed brushing, and she was no longer clad in galaxy print, but rather, blue and white pajamas with panda bears printed all over. Celestina ground the sleep out of her eyes and smashed the "stop" button on her alarm.

"Okay, I'm awake Mom!" said Celestina, slightly irritated. Her mom chuckled.

"Hey, if I let you have your way, you'd be asleep until lunchtime." laughed Mom. "I told you not to stay up too late."

"I didn't stay up late!" Celestina protested, "I'm just, not used to waking up this early." She was kinda right. Today was the first day of the new school year, after three months of staying up and sleeping in later than usual, it can be hard to get back on a schedule.

"Fair enough," said Mom, "but I can't always be around to make you wake up, especially now, you understand?" Celestina nodded. What her mom had meant was that she just got hired to work as a paramedic at a new ambulance company, which meant that some days she had to go in early. Unfortunately, it also means that she would come home later after working many hours, some nights possibly after when Celestina was supposed to go to bed. Luckily, today was only her orientation, which wouldn't start for a few hours, so her Mom could drop her off on her first day of school, but she was still dressed in her work uniform, black boots, navy blue pants with lots of pockets, and a wine red shirt with the ambulance's logo embolized on the left breast, and her curly blonde hair was tied up in a long ponytail.

Speaking of uniforms. Not only was Celestina starting her first day of school, but it's the first day of a new school, specifically, middle school. Okay, so technically this school is a combo middle and high school, so not only does she have to deal with the 7th and 8th graders, but also all the high schoolers as well. And all the students have to wear uniforms. Actually, the uniform itself wasn't that bad, it was pretty cute, the top was a rich shade of purple with a white collar and ribbon, and a white pleated skirt that fell below the knees, had a "sailor suit" sorta look to it, kinda like what an anime character would wear. All the same, Celestina couldn't understand why she just couldn't just wear her regular clothes to school, you know, like everyone did in elementary school. Sigh, another change to have to get used to. Mom caught Celestina eyeing her uniform.

"Well get dressed, hon." said Mom, "And come downstairs for breakfast. I think Mia made some chocolate chip pancakes!" Mmm, just the thought of those pancakes made Celestina's mouth water.

"Okay, you win." laughed Celestina, giving her mom a hug. "I'll be down in a few." After Mom had left the room, Celestina got dressed, brushed and pulled her long wavy blue hair into a ponytail, using a hairband with two pink poofballs on it. Before she left to go downstairs, she looked toward the corner of her room, and saw Scratchy, her fluffy gray bunny, stirring around in her cage.

"Hey there Scratchy!" she cooed, giving the bunny little pats. She then slipped a little chew treat for her to play with. "Be good while I'm at school, okay?"

The young girl grabbed her backpack, filled to the brim with school supplies, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. The aroma of chocolate chip pancakes and maple syrup filled the room. Mom had seated herself at the kitchen table, eating her small stack of pancakes, and Mia, Celestina's stepmom, was busy flipping the pancakes at the stove. Her mother, Sharon, and Mia have only been married for less than a year, but Mia has lived with Celestina and her Mom her whole life. They probably would have married sooner had it been allowed before last year! Mia is a pretty lady, tall, tan skin, and shiny dark brown hair, and she's a great cook. Her and her sister Gina (Aunt Gina to Celestina), run a pizza place called Leaning Tower of Pizza.

"Pancakes, comin' up!" shouted Mia to Celestina. Mia still spoke with a New York accent, despite the fact that she's been living in Ohio for at least 15 years. She served the girl her pancakes before sliding her own onto a plate. Celestina took her breakfast to the table and poured on the sweet maple syrup. She cut a piece and took a bite, mmmm, was so good. Her smile fell slightly looking around the room. She couldn't get used to the empty space at the table.

"What's wrong?" asked Mia, noticing Celestina's frown, "Don't you like chocolate pancakes?"

"I LOVE them!" exclaimed Celestina. "I just wish Dad was here to have some." Mia and Susan exchanged a look of understanding.

"You miss him don't you." said Mia. Celestina nodded.

"Yup!" said Celestina. It was actually more than that. She paused a bit, trying to think of how to put it into words, "I mean, I dunno, I guess I'm also a bit worried, you know, about him leaving again." Celestina's eyes looked down at her pancakes. Talking about stuff like that always made her uneasy.

Celestina's dad, her whole family life in general really, was, well, unusual to say the least. For one thing, her parents weren't married when her mom had her, in fact, they split up shortly before Sharon found out she was pregnant. Whatever, no biggie, there are lots of kids whose parents are like that, people who have children before they got married, or had kids and didn't stay together. However, it was even more complicated in Celestina's case, because her mom is American and her dad is British, meaning it's harder for her to see her dad on a regular basis because he lives so far away. Also, her dad is famous. Celestina's father is none other than Stuart Pot, better known as 2-D, the lead singer of Gorillaz. Yes, that 2-D! It's been awhile since the band did any songs together though, the last album, Plastic Beach, was released when Celestina was 5, but a couple years before that, something else happened, and that's what worried Celestina. For a short while after Celestina was born, 2-D would often call the house to say hi, sometimes even visit. But after a visit that Dad made sometime when she was 3, he had gone on a trip somewhere, and suddenly vanished. Her mom tried to keep calm around her when she asked where Dad was, but even as a kid, Celestina could kinda tell that her Mom was worried about him. The sudden release of a new Gorillaz album didn't help either. At one point, her Mom told her stories that 2-D and Murdoc Niccals, the band's foul mouthed, green skinned, bassist, were taken by pirates and trapped on an island called Plastic Beach, an island in the middle of the ocean made of garbage and spray painted pink. Looking back, Celestina wasn't sure if this all really happened or if this was something Mom was making up, but she knew something happened that made her dad unable to contact her for awhile. Shortly before Celestina was 8, her dad had called her on the phone for the first time in years.

"Celestina, is that you?" said 2-D in his thick Londoner accent, "You sound so big! How old are you now?"

"I'm gonna be 8, Dad!" answered Celestina proudly, "I'm a big kid!"

"8!? Wow! You really grew up!" exclaimed 2-D, Celestina could hear the tears caught in his throat. "I've missed you so much!"

After a brief vacation, or "holiday" as her dad called it, in Guadalupe, he visited Celestina and the family for the first time in a while, right in time for her 8th birthday. And since then, he had been able to keep in better contact, and came to visit Celestina in person more often these last few years, as if to make up for missing out for those last 5 years. She even got to fly with him to England one time and met her grandparents, David and Rachel Pot, for the first time at the amusement park that Grandpop had owned. This year, 2-D stayed in the guest room for a few months, he was able to keep Celestina company during the summer while Sharon was taking paramedic classes, and Mia was working at Leaning Tower. 2-D had been helping Celestina with her budding interest in music, teaching her how to play her new blue Melodica, a small keyboard with a flute-like pipe in it. When they weren't practicing, the father daughter duo would watch scary zombie movies, or listen to some older Gorillaz songs on Celestina's old CD player. On June 23rd, the whole family, and a few of Celestina's friends from school, celebrated her 11th birthday with a bonfire cookout in the backyard. It was a wonderful summer.

But all this fun and excitement of summer had to come to an end. It was now time for school, and just as well, Dad left to go back to England, rather suddenly at that. Somehow, one of his old band mates, Noodle, the guitarist and the only girl in the band, (and Celestina's favorite band member, next to Dad of course), ended up getting back in contact with him. Apparently, the band was getting back together to make a new album called Humanz, which would be released sometime next year. Like always, Celestina was sad to see him leave, but she was also worried too, maybe because a part of her is scared he would go missing again.

Sharon put a comforting hand on Celestina's shoulder. "It'll be okay," she reassured her daughter, "He said he's gonna text us when he arrives to meet the others. Plus, he said you can visit him during spring break."

"I know," nodded Celestina. She finishes up her pancakes, thinking about everything going on. Mom's starting a new job, Dad's going back to England, I'm starting a new year in a new school, and we have to wear uniforms! So far so good, she thought sarcastically. She rinsed her dirty plate in the sink and slipped on her black flats to meet Mom out in the car.

"Are we taking Kailey today?" asked Mom. Kailey Green is Celestina's best friend and next door neighbor.

"No, Mrs. Green wanted to take her this morning," answered Celestina, "but she's picking both of us up after school."

"Okay, good," said Mom, "let's get going, you don't wanna be late," she checks her watch "and neither do I!" she laughed. Celestina gave Mia a hug goodbye.

"Have a good day at school, rockstar." said Mia lovingly. "I'm coming home from Leaning Tower about an hour after you get home from school, okay girlie."

"'Kay 'kay, I got it." smiled Celestina. She gives Mia a fist bump, complete with a little explosion sound effect.

"You have a good day at school," then she turns to Mom "And good luck with orientation Sharon." Mom gives Mia a loving kiss on the cheek.

"Bye honey," said Mom grabbing her keys. "I should be home by dinner tonight." Celestina and her mother wave goodbye to Mia before getting in the car. As Sharon drove on to the school, Celestina sat in her seat nervously, her breakfast doing flip flops in her stomach.

"Are you doing okay back there?" asked Sharon, looking at her daughter in the rearview mirror.

"I dunno," she answered. "Honestly, I'm pretty nervous. Middle school sounds kinda scary. All these classes, new teachers, ugh, no recess, school uniforms," she grimaced. She had so many thoughts, so many "what-if's", that they started coming out one after another. "What if I don't like my teachers? What if me and Kailey don't have any classes together? What if all the classes are too hard? What if I get bullied by the older kids? What if -"

"Celestina!" said Mom suddenly, "sweetie, sweetie, it's alright." She took a deep breath before continuing, "I know this isn't something you want to hear, but I kinda know how you feel. I was nervous starting middle school when I was your age. And, if I'll be fully honest, I can relate to how you're feeling right now. I'm a bit nervous starting this new job."

Celestina looked up in surprise, "You are?" she wondered. "But you said you were excited." Mom gave Celestina a loving smile.

"And I am," answered Sharon, "But I have so many mixed feelings. I'm worried I won't be good enough, I'm worried the boss could be a jerk, or that I won't like my co-workers. So many things can go wrong. But," she paused before continuing, "There are also good things I'm looking forward to as well. I'll be able to use the skills I worked hard learning in all these classes, I'll be able to help people, I'll be bringing home a little more money, which means we will be able to go out more often." she said with a smile. "It's normal to be scared and nervous, it's okay in fact. But you also have so many good things to look forward to. Yes you have more classes, but you get to have more classes you enjoy, like music and art. And even if you don't have any classes with Kailey, you'll always be able to see her because we're neighbors. If you're having a problem, whether it's classes, mean kids, or even a mean teacher, you can always come to me or Mia. I just want you to know, even if the bad things do happen, there are also a lot of good thing to come, I want you to remember that." Celestina thought over what her mom had said. She did have a few good points.

"I did hear that the music department puts on a school musical every year," said Celestina, feeling a bit more hopeful, "And there's all these fun clubs". Sharon's eyes lit up.

"See, there you go!" said Mom.

"It just seems like so many things are changing at the same time." Celestina admitted, "it just feels so fast, I feel like I can barely take a breath."

"I know, it sucks, it really does." said Sharon in an understanding tone. "The funny thing is, is that the only thing that never changes, is that everything changes."

"That's so confusing to think about!" said Celestina laughing.

"Ah, but that's the truth," said Sharon with a chuckle. "But you know what else will never change?"

"No what?" asked Celestina.

"I'll always love you," Mom answered warmly, "The same goes for Mia, and for your dad, we will never stop loving you. You are our child, and nothing will ever change that."

"Aw mom, I love you too!" she exclaimed. At that moment, Celestina's cell phone chirped with a new message. Oops, better silence it before class, she thought, making a mental note. But seeing who the message was from made her smile.

"Ooh I got a text from Dad!" shouted Celestina in excitement. The text read "i made it to studio 13 in london. about to start recording for the new album. I miss you already, but i'm happy to be home again. russ, noodle and murdoc say hi. say hi to your mum for me. love you little panda bear." Celestina smiled at the mention of the special nickname her dad gave her. Attached with the message was a picture. It was a group photo of the whole band in what looked like the inside of a recording studio. Celestina had yet to meet the other band members in person, but she knew who they were from the music videos and interview clips on YouTube, and from a few stories from her dad. There was Murdoc Niccals, the band's bassist, and probably the biggest troublemaker of the band. He has an odd scrunched up nose, and green skin and black hair, sorta made Celestina think of the Gangreen Gang from The PowerPuff Girls. Then there was Russel Hobbs, the drummer, a heavyset black man from New York, with bright white eyes lacking pupils, a result of being possessed by a demon when he was young. He seemed to be the voice of reason in the band, and when he speaks in interviews, he has a gentle voice. Then there was Noodle, the guitarist, and the only girl in the band. Celestina almost didn't recognize her at first, she's so used to seeing her in the music videos back when she was a kid or a young teen, and now she's a beautiful grown up woman! Noodle was not much older than Celestina is now when the band released their first album, and according to her dad, when they were first looking for a guitarist, Noodle traveled from Japan all the way to England, in a FedEx delivery crate, and gave such an epic explosive guitar solo, that the band ended up giving her the part on the spot. Celestina likes to imagine that if they were the same age, she and Noodle would be great friends. And in the middle of the pic was her dad, 2-D himself. He's tall and wiry, the tallest of all the band members in fact, he has spikey blue hair, and due to two separate car accidents (which were Murdoc's fault), he lost his front tooth, and his eyes were injured, they now look like blank black circles. Murdoc gave him the nickname 2-D because his black eyes made it look like he had "two dents'' in his head. Surprisingly, her dad liked that nickname, at this point, the only people who really call him Stu anymore would be Nana and Grandpop, as well as Sharon and Mia. People would often describe her dad as, well, not very bright, sometimes saying he's thick and calling him names like "space cadet", but Celestina doesn't like any comments like that. To Celestina, her dad has his own 2-D way of thinking, and his creativity with making music is where he shines the best, and he's got a kind heart. In the attached picture, all four band mates were smiling (even Murdoc), and that made Celestina happy, seeing her dad and his old friends all back together.

"That's great!" said Mom, "What does the message say?"

"Dad said he got to England safely, he's excited to work on songs again, and that he loves and misses me, plus he sent a pic of him and the rest of the band." said Celestina. "Oh yeah, Dad says hi, and so does Russ, Noodle, and Murdoc."

"Aw that's awesome!" replied Mom, "See, I figured he would make it there okay. How do the other three look?"

"Murdoc is as green as ever," Celestina replied with a laugh, "Russel pretty much looks the same, but Noodle looks so different! She's a grown up lady!"

"Yup, I believe it," said mom with a chuckle. "Oh man, I haven't seen her since you were a baby, she was still a teenager then. Grown up so fast, both of you." she said with a sigh. "It's good they seem to be doing well." She paused, thinking, "I got an idea. We're almost there, why don't we take a few back-to-school pictures of you when we get there, and you can text them back to your dad?"

"Ooh I'd love that!" said a delighted Celestina. She was quiet for a bit before continuing. "Hey, I know I was sad before with Dad leaving, but, well, it's also really cool that the whole band is back together and they'll make more songs again."

"I know, I can't wait to hear them," agreed Mom, "but like I said earlier, it's okay to feel sad about missing him. Just don't forget that there are also a lot of good things to look forward to."

"I understand," answered Celestina. Mom had just pulled up to the school. There it was, Orbitz Public School. Mom was lining up to park at the entrance where the middle school classes were. While Celestina had seen the school many times when going on errands with her mom's around town, today the building somehow seemed larger and more intimidating. Her breath slowed down and her hands grew sweaty the closer they got to the entrance. Mom had found a parking spot and Celestina nervously left the car, carrying her backpack.

"This place is way bigger than South Lincoln," remarked Celestina, referring to her elementary school. Sharon gave Celestina's hand a comforting squeeze.

"I know it's scary," said Mom. "But you got this." Even though Celestina was still nervous, she somehow felt a bit better with her Mom hyping her up.

"I got this!" repeated Celestina.

"You're the star of your own stage," encouraged Sharon, "You knock 'em dead!"

"I'll knock 'em dead!" repeated Celestina, feeling pumped. "Oh yeah, let's get that picture taken to send to Dad" she remembered. Celestina and Sharon walked around to find a spot with good lighting in the courtyard.

"Ooh, we can take one here," said Celestina, handing the phone to her mom. She struck an adorable Sailor Moon style peace sign pose in her new uniform with the school in view in the back. After the picture got taken, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"Huh," said Celestina, before turning around to see her best friend, "Oh hey there Kailey!"

"Hi Lessie!" greeted Kailey, using the nickname she used for Celestina since they were little. Kailey was wearing the same purple and white school uniform that Celestina was wearing. She kept her short brown hair in her natural curls, and her red square glasses framed her blue eyes. The giggly girls greeted each other with a hug, before realizing that both their moms were standing by with their phones.

"Smile you two," said Mrs. Green. Both girls smiled for the camera with their arms around each other.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Sharon before handing Celestina her phone back. Celestina then quickly sent both the pics to her dad with a special message.

"So glad you made it home safely Dad. Mom and Mia say hi back. Today is me and Kailey's first day of school. Can't wait to see you again, and maybe meet the rest of the band (even Murdoc lol). Have fun recording. Love you lots! We got this!"

Shortly after she sent it, her dad replied with another quick "I love you", and Kailey got Celestina's attention.

"C'mon Lessie," said Kailey, "We still need to get our schedules."

"Oh my, that's right!" exclaimed Celestina. "We gotta get going!"

The girls gave their Moms a quick hug and said goodbye, and headed into the school. Celestina still felt a bit nervous, but she felt a lot better than this morning. She headed inside the front doors of the school with Kailey, walking through the purple and white crowd of students, feeling determined to take on the day no matter what happens.

"Celestina, you're on!"

#american girl fan character #american girl oc #celestina damon #gorillaz #gorillaz oc #american girl #american girl doll #gorillaz fan character #daisies and daffodolls #long post

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ratonnhhaketon · 4 years

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See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 4)

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Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, Kidnapping

Chapter 4 - Misadventures In Mail Delivery

It had been about two weeks or so since the incident with the stagecoach, and Catherine had definitely been keeping busy around camp. Mrs. Grimshaw quickly put her to work with the laundry, dishes, and assisting Pearson with the stew preparation. Adjusting to the life of an outlaw was a slow and strange process, especially after never having to do regular chores prior her entire life, but it was starting to feel normal. She even picked up new skills and hobbies that she enjoyed, like sewing, despite how many times she pricked herself while Tilly taught her the basics.

Catherine awoke to a particularly chilly morning and quickly got dressed in an effort to block out the cold air. A simple long-sleeved maroon shirt and a pair of black jeans, that she actually preferred over skirts after wearing them so often, accompanied her riding boots. She ran a brush through her tangled hair, taking time to pay special attention to a stubborn knot in the back, before putting it in a simple plait.

As she exited her small tent she raised her arms up and stretched, groaning a bit when her lower back popped a bit. Like every morning, she made a beeline to the fire and grabbed a cup of coffee.

Hosea called her over to the table he was currently sat at. “Would you mind taking a ride into town to pick up the mail?”

She gave a quick nod at him before downing the rest of her coffee. “Of course! What do we need?”

“Mrs. Grimshaw ordered some clothes and there are probably some letters for Dutch and myself.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get a move on now.” They shared a smile before Hosea returned his attention to the book in his lap and Catherine headed back to her tent. She grabbed the dark blue jacket that was slung on top of her clothing trunk before walking over to where Arthur, John, and Lenny were standing and enjoying their coffee. “Morning fellas,” she said with a warm smile as she pulled the jacket on.

The group replied with their own nods and small ‘morning’s of acknowledgement before she spoke up again. “Well I’m heading into town to grab the mail, any of you need me to pick up somethin’ from the store?”

Arthur spoke up first. “A pack of cigarettes would be nice.”

~~~~~

She looked between the other two as they just shook their heads. “Can do, Mr. Morgan. I should be back in an hour or so.”

The ride into town went smoothly as always. Catherine passed only a few people on the road, as the sun was still just over the horizon, and stopped at the post office first. She collected everything they needed, a stack of letters addressed to the ringleaders of the gang and a package for Miss Grimshaw. She securely strapped the package to the back of her horse before slipping the letters into the saddlebags and walking to the general store.

Catherine made a quick lap around the store, picking up Arthur’s request as well as a can of peaches for herself and some candies for Jack. As she stood at the counter to pay she felt someone staring at her and quickly looked around the store before taking note of the man paying a little too much attention to the box of biscuits in his hand. She passed the clerk a few bills before gathering her things and returning to her horse.

As she was putting the things into the saddlebags, that same looming presence of someone watching made itself known once again. Catherine quickly slipped the cigarettes and chocolate bar into the inner pocket of her jacket before she mounted and spurred her horse into a gallop to get out of town as fast as possible. When she was barely half a mile out of town the sound of steady hooves following her seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. She spared them a quick glance over her shoulder before turning off of the road and into the thick forest of Tall Trees.

Her mare protested every time she was spurred on to keep up her pace, but the stead never once slowed down. Catherine ducked and weaved through low hanging branches, keeping a hand held out in front of her face to avoid any collisions.

The sound of hooves only faded for a moment as she ducked into the forest before reappearing almost twice as loud. A small “shit!” escaped her lips as the sound of hooves and the edge of Tall Trees grew closer.

Catherine failed to realize that she was nearing a small cliff and, before she could slow down, her horse slid down the slope uncontrollably. Her mare began to freak out, frantically trying to regain its footing on the loose dirt and rocks, and bucked her off in the process. She fell to the ground with a hard thud, pain in her chest and the air fully gone from her lungs.

Between ragged breaths as she lay on the ground, trying to regain her breathing, she noticed the sounds of hooves had stopped and steady footsteps crunching leaves began to approach her. She tried to reach for her pistol but one of the men shot a bullet next to her head, obviously missing on purpose.

“The boss is gonna be very happy about this,” the other man chucked. The last thing she saw was her mare sprinting off in the direction of camp before the butt of a rifle knocked her out cold.

~~~~~

“Hey, Lenny!” Arthur called to the man on guard duty as he walked towards his horse. “Has Miss Hays gotten back yet?”

He adjusted the rifle in his hand as he turned to look back at the man behind him. “No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Damn, I could use that pack of cigarettes she promised.” No sooner than the words left his mouth did the steady gallop of hooves start to approach the camp. The two men looked towards the sound expecting to see the woman they were just discussing, but were met with her dark brown mare barreling down the path. Arthur, wasting no time at all, instinctively put his hands up to slow the horse and grab the reins. He calmed her down enough that she stopped moving, though she was still shaking her head and huffing from the unfamiliar contact.

The two men shared a glance before Lenny spoke up. “Well,” he exhaled. “This ain’t good.”

~~~~~

The world was a haze around Catherine as she started to come to her senses. The room she was in was mostly dark, with a small stream of light peeking in from the torn curtain. She blinked a few times to get her eyes adjusted to the space around her. It was a small room, with a mattress pushed against the opposite corner of the room and a table covered in playing cards and empty cigarette cartons next to her.

Her mouth was dry and tasted like metal. Her vision was still blurry from the darkness, but she could still tell her eyes were very swollen. Despite her whole body screaming and protesting against her, she tried to move. Her muscles ached against the rope tied around her hands and legs.

She stopped struggling when a male voice spoke up outside. “How much longer do we have to be in this shithole?”

Another man replied, “Another day or two, probably. Just waiting on Calvin to send word for us to send her back.”

She felt her stomach churn. Of course he was behind this.

The door to the cabin swung open and she could vaguely make out the shape of a man walking towards her. “Look who’s awake, boys!” As he walked closer she recognized the figure to be the man that shot at her earlier.

“I’d rather die than go back to that rat,” she spat, struggling against the ropes.

The man laughed and crouched down next to her. “As much as I would love to make that happen,” he said with a smile. “I’m afraid Mr. Foster specifically requested you be returned alive so he could decide exactly what to do with you.” He lifted up a hand to her cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. God , she wanted to throw up. Or punch him in the face. “Pity though, that he gets to have all the fun with you. I bet you’d make a very-”

Before he could continue she moved her face to the right towards his hand and bit down hand, directly at the base of his thumb. He yanked his hand back and grabbed it, making sure that he wasn’t bleeding. Catherine looked at him with fire in her eyes and he returned the gaze with pure anger. “You bitch!!” he yelled, using his opposite hand to slap her across the face. Her head went back and hit off the hardwood of the wall behind her, a yelp of pain escaping her lips. The world started to spin around her and her vision started to get hazy. She vaguely heard the man spew some string of curse words at her before she blacked out.

~~~~~

The second time she woke was to gunfire outside of the small cabin. The men that captured her were not only yelling a lot between each other, but she had a feeling that they were losing the fight as well.

“Check inside, we’ll keep watch out here,” a distant voice said. It sounded hazy and muffled as it broke through the ringing of her ears.

The door to the house opened and she tightly shut her eyes from the heavy moonlight. After a moment she opened them to see a figure approaching her, to which she instinctively curled her bruised body further into a ball. Her figure shook violently from fear and the cold air surrounding her.

“Hey, s’okay. I ain’t gon’ hurt ya.” the figure spoke up in a soft tone. The voice was deep and gravelly but also gentle. One that felt familiar and safe.

She looked up with tears in her half-lidded eyes and said, “Arthur?” Her voice was weak and sounded almost like a wheeze.

“Shhh, it’s alright. We’re gon’ getcha outta here.” He carefully cut the ropes on her arms and hands. “Can ya walk?” When Catherine slowly shook her head Arthur bent down to slide his arms under her legs and behind her back. He hoisted her body up- to which she let out a loud cry of pain- and walked back out of the small cabin, careful to not hit her against the doorframe. She rested her head against his chest as they walked to try and stop the world from spinning around her.

For the first time in what was probably days she felt safe.

“Take her back to camp,” another voice spoke up. “We’ll stay back for a bit and make sure no one is left.” Arthur sat her on the front of his horse’s saddle and carefully got in behind her to assure she wouldn’t fall during the ride.

As they rode off back towards camp Catherine kept her head propped up against Arthur’s chest with her eyes closed, desperately trying to ignore the aching pain her body felt as the horse galloped. Her right hand clutched the front of his shirt, her legs dangling over the side of the horse, and a few stray tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Well be back soon, just stay with me.” She felt his chest rumble against her head as he spoke and groaned out in pain, to which he instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know it hurts but we’ll be back soon.”

She started to feel lightheaded and groggy. Using the last of her strength, Catherine opened her puffy eyes and looked up at Arthur. “Wasn’t.. O’Driscolls,” she murmured, voice nearly giving out at the end.

The last thing she heard was Arthur’s confused “What?” before her field of view was swallowed into blackness and she slipped out of consciousness again.

~~~~~

Catherine didn’t remember much of what happened after that. She remembered a lot of yelling, people rushing around, and what she thinks was Arthur and Lenny talking. When she was finally fully conscious she woke up to a very dry mouth and almost every part of her body in pain. She looked at her surroundings and realized she was back at camp, in her tent, with Hosea reading a book beside her cot. Upon noticing her awake he smiled and shut the book, and reaching for a cup of water he had resting on the crate next to her.

“Good to see you awake, Catherine.” He helped her lean up and drink, reminding her to go slow and breathe so she didn’t choke. “You gave us all quite the scare.”

Before she could reply the flap to her tent was opened and Arthur’s familiar hat peaked in. “Glad to see you’re up.”

She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a light smile at his voice. Hosea waved Arthur in and stood before saying, “I’ll let you catch her up on everything, but make sure she eats something and gets a lot of rest.” He gave Arthur a pat on the arm before leaving and closing the tent’s canvas.

“How..” she started, struggling to speak as her throat was still sore and voice was almost gone. “How long was I out?”

Arthur sat down in the chair next to her and leaned back. “A few days. You’ve been in and out a couple times, but never as aware as ya’ are now. Hell, Reverend was considerin’ reading you yer last rights last time you were conscious.” They shared a chuckle at the thought before Arthur continued. “Took a hell of a beating back there but at least Miss Grimshaw will go easy on you for a while.”

Arthur looked at her for a second and took in her features. “Do you have any idea who those men were? ‘Cause you said they ain’t O’Driscolls when we were coming back to camp.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, I do.” Her gaze shifted from him to the canvas covering the top of the tent. “Calvin sent them. The man I was supposed to marry.”

He looked down at his feet and nodded, before looking back up at her a moment later. “I’m guessing he’s not too happy you left your old life?”

Catherine’s eyes returned to the man next to her. “Not at all.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down at her hands, her thumbs fidgeting together in her lap. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I didn’t want to get you all wrapped into more problems than you already have.”

Arthur leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Catherine,” he said with a sincere tone, “You’re a part of this gang now, which makes you family. And as a family one person’s problems become a concern for all of us. If this son of a bitch shows his face again we’ll take care of it.”

She smiled at the sincerity of his words, tears threatening her eyes. The two sat in silence for a moment, enjoying each other’s company before a thought popped into her head. “Oh!” she said suddenly. “Is my horse alright?”

Arthur chuckled at her concern. “She’s perfectly fine. An hour or two after you left she showed back up at camp without you, so me and Lenny figured you were in trouble. Real smart girl you got there, seeing as she was able to bring herself all the way back to camp on her own.”

Catherine smiled at the good news. “Thank god she’s alright.” Her eyes drifted to the trunk on the floor next to Arthur’s chair and she spotted her jacket laying on top of it. “Arthur, could you grab my jacket for me?” She gestured with her right hand to where it lay and he picked it up before gently laying it on the bed next to her. “Before I forget,” she said with a smirk as she reached into the pocket on the inner lining. “You might be wanting these.” She handed over the, now slightly squashed, pack of cigarettes to him.

He laughed as he accepted the gift, having nearly forgotten that he even asked for them. “Thank you very much, Miss Hays.”

“Consider it payment for rescuing me from my captors.”

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years

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Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Chapter One Word count: 1.9k Warnings: Uhhh brief talk of race, some language. Chapter summary: You’re a seamstress in dc, with a tiny but successful shop run by your and your spunky cashier. Today you get a visitor that is far out of your usual demographic.

tag list: @captainsamwlsn @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @zeldasayer

(yes that’s a marilyn monroe pic she’s a major look for Valerie alright.)

Many believed that the eyes were the window to the soul, your father disagreed with that. He believed the truth of somebody's character was in their hands.

“Shows a lot about them, little bee.” your father showed his own hands to you, wrinkled and scarred with tiny nics from years of work as a tailor. You were nine at the time, just last week you had completed your first sundress! You spent your afternoons after school in the shop with your father, doing whatever he asked. “-If they're a hard worker or if they don’t do anything at all. These little fellas will show you just that.” He wiggled his fingers at you before poking at your stomach, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles.

Twenty five years later and his words still ring true. When you first meet somebody, you don’t look at their clothes, or their smile, or even their eyes. You look for their character in their hands.

So the moment the tiny bell rang at your shop door, your eyes were taken away from the pinned gown in front of you and towards the lithe fingers wrapped around the door handle.

Manicured nails painted a deep red, fingers daintily curled, skin unscarred and void of all blemishes. Absolutely perfect.

Who would expect any less of Maxwell Lord’s wife?

Your only other employee, Cassandra, a sweet sixteen year old girl you hired to watch the register and sweep floors, squeaked.

“Hello,” She lifted the sunglasses from her face and set them utop her blonde curls. Her eyes zeroed in on you with an analytical gaze. In comparison to her floor length fur coat and satin blouse, you suddenly felt flushed in your ripped trousers and patterned button up. “Are you the owner?” She put such infliction on each word you couldn’t tell if she was judging your store or the fact that you owned it.

Either way you felt like you were supposed to be offended.

“That I am.”

She slid her coat off, looking at your coat rack with a wrinkled nose before finally setting it on the hook. She walked around your store, taking in the little knick-knacks that lined the counter and the racks of clothing with a judgmental eye.

Her eyes flicked to Cassandra, who still stood behind the register with her jaw dropped open.

Mrs.Lord smiled and tapped the underside of her chin and she snapped her mouth shut.

“You made all of these yourself?” Her voice was smooth like silk, but had a sharp edge to it. You felt as if you were waiting to embarrass yourself in front of her. She took a white sundress into her hands, feeling the fabric between her fingers.

“Most of them.” You answered. She froze and raised a sculpted brow.

“Most?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Some of these are thrift store finds, just altered and restyled.” Her ruby lips bent into a frown, glaring at the dress she held with disappointment.

“That one is an original though.”

She stared at the dress for a moment, face scrunched up in thought before she regained her cool composure and tossed it to you over her shoulder, which landed on your face. “Be a dear and hold that for me, would you?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer. By the time you lifted the lace that obscure your vision, she was already looking at another dress. You followed behind her.

Why the hell not? You thought to yourself as she handed you a satin blouse. You didn’t have any other customers at the moment, and you aren't being met with for a design consultation for another three hours.

Besides, how often is it that Valerie fucking Lord walks into your store like a frequent customer?

She continued to walk around your store, red heels echoing throughout as she stopped at certain dresses and tops (mostly those of silk or lace) to admire them, before either adding them to the growing pile in your arms, or setting them back on the rack with a sour look. The entire time she did, you wondered what it was that drew in her to your tiny shop.

The woman before you had been a big deal since she was born. Before she was Valerie Lord, she was Valerie Ackkerman. Her father had been a Hollywood director in the fifties who married an up and coming actress hot to the scene. The couple dominated the big screen and became a loved pair to America, that is until her mother got a baby bump, got demoted to supporting roles for the rest of her career, and her father continued to go on and make films many to this day still consider iconic.

You considered most of them to be a racist and misogynist, but you suppose they were simply a product of their time.

And a shitty director.

Valerie Ackkerman became Dr.Ackkerman, psychiatrist with multiple books surrounding a vast majority of subjects that can affect one’s mental state. Such as greed, fame, and the lack of proper paternal figures to shape your childhood.

Which made her choice in marriage all the more ironic.

Maxwell Lord the fourth was a man as American as apple pie and the corporate greed that came as a table side. He’d taken over his father’s company at the ripe age of sixteen at his passing, having been groomed for the position since he was a child.

Maxwell Lord was known as a ruthless tycoon, a tech mogul who will smile wide in his commercials before making a grown man cry in his boardroom. His wife was just as feared as him and seeing her before you now, you perfectly understood why. She was prettier than sin itself and just as rich. Which begged the question…

Why in God’s name was she in your shop?

“How long have you been sewing?” A floor length skirt with a slit up the leg was tossed in your arms.

“Since I can remember.” Her fingers ghosted along the hangers before plucking a pink slip dress off the rack and holding it up against her body. “My father was a tailor. He taught me everything he knew.” She turned to the mirror on the other side of the room and looked at her reflection while smoothing out the fabric of the dress. “When he passed away I took over the shop, but I basically ran it already.”

She chuckled, shaking her head as if your father's death had tickled her so. “Sounds like somebody I know.” Mrs. Lord turned to you, the dress pressed against her body. “Thoughts?”

Your eyes roamed over her body as you tried to form sentences, but nothing came out in fear of saying the wrong thing in front of a woman so powerful, she could burn your shop to the ground with a single call to her husband.

Beautiful. You wanted to say. And terrifying.

“It suits you.”

She turned back to the mirror, her eyes focused on your reflection instead of her own. She tilted her head to the side and hummed. You felt like you were on display, being examined, picked apart and analyzed by the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen in your life.

“I know.”

When she walked past you to the register and you got a waft of her perfume, something sharp and citrusy, most likely belonging to a brand you wouldn’t dream of wearing.

Cassandra rang her up in silence, nervously looking up from each item to the woman standing in front of her. Her hands trembled so bad you could see the fabric shake when she picked them up.

You would have taken over for her, but you were trying to ignore the burning sensation in your face at her judgmental gaze. You’d seen it all before, from women like her. Rich, white, beautiful, and privileged as all hell. You knew the way her eyes scanned your clothes, critiquing your curls, the cut of your jeans and the pattern of your button up that lay partially open against your chest.

You wish you could say you were sick of it. But mostly? You just didn’t give a shit.

Cassandra’s shaking hands dropped the bag into the floor before it reached Valarie’s, she looked about ready to cry before you stepped in.

“Oh god I’m so-”

“It’s fine Cassie.” Her red lips snapped shut at your interjection and blase tone.

You swiped the plastic bag and held it out to the woman with a neutral face.“Eighty-nine fifty.” You told her. She looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

She must not be used to being treated like something other than royalty.

But that look was replaced by a coy smile. She took the plastic bag full of clothes from your hands and handed you a thick wad of cash that was well over the amount she owed. Red, manicured nails trailing down your palm as she did.

You suppressed a shudder.

“You know-” She took the lace sundress out of her bag, thumb trailing along the seam. “-Your work is on par with some of the brands I wear.” You weren’t sure why the sight of her stroking something you made felt so damn intimate, but you felt like you needed to look away as if you were interrupting something.“-Maybe even better than them.”

Christ, you needed to get out more.

“Well yeah.” You shrugged matter of factly and crossed your arms. “That’s because I’m driven by artist integrity. Not making some shoddy dress and slapping a fancy brand on it, in hopes that some trust fund baby will wear it to her next yacht party.”

The moment those words left your lips you realized you had said them to the wealthiest customer you ever had.

Who laughed.

Cassandra went pale as a sheet while you spoke, looking between you and the woman worth more than your entire store like she expected an explosion.

Mrs. Lord smiled at you. “We’ll you're right about that. I have to agree.” Her hands ran down the side of the dress and stopped when she felt a fold in the white fabric. “Are these-”

“Pockets?” You grinned, like it was your greatest achievement. Honestly? It kind of was. “Sure are. Decently sized ones too, can fit your whole hand in and everything.” To prove your point, the heiress stuck her entire hand into the pocket and wiggled it with a laugh.

“There’s still more room in it!” She sounded so in awe and excited, it reminded you of a child on Christmas.

Her joy was infectious.

“Every dress I make has pockets, it’s sort of like my signature.”

“Every dress?”

You drew an X over your heart. “Stitches guarantee.”

Mrs. Lord grinned. “You're certainly one of a kind miss...”

You told her your name, and she repeated it back. The way she said it made it sound like the brand name of a thousand dollar purse.

“But you can call me stitches.” You said simply. “Everybody does.”

Cassandra looked at you with wide eyes, shocked that you went from accidentally insulting her to being chummy enough to share the silly nickname you got from customers.

“Do they now?” She walked to the coat rack and slipped her jacket on. “Well tell me this, Stitches-” Mrs.Lord took the glasses off the top of her head and slid them over her eyes. “Do you do commission work?”

You blinked for a moment. “Well I do, but-”

She squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh perfect! We’ll be in touch then.”

“Wait-” You faltered, trying to run from behind the counter after her, but all you succeeded in doing was banging your hip against the corner. “Fuck! Who’s we?”

“Oh don’t you worry about that.” She opened the door and looked over her shoulder. “One more thing though, do you make suits as well?”

A/n:SHE’S HERE BABY WOOOOO. Iv’e been talking headcanons with @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa for like a week and a half now about this bad boy and im so excited to get the ball rolling! I love max and i love poly ships so HERE WE ARE Valerie lord owns my ass yall. Anyways please don’t feel shy to send me messages about these babes, asks, critiques or just come say hello! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list, i hope you all have a good and safe day <3

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #Maxwell Lord x Valarie Lord x reader #ww1984 #Pedro Pascal #x reader #imagine #ROOSASUT #Stitches

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