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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑮𝒚𝒗𝒆𝒓 & 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒚: 𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Paid story for @alohomorasomnium. Word Count: 2k Warnings: swears, implied dog abuse

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

Even with the morning’s debacle, you still thought the interview went well. So well in fact, that they offered you a job on the spot.

“We know it’s short notice-” said one of the interviewers. Her hair was in a messy pony tail and cat hair was covering her blue Vet shirt.

“-But we need some help around here. Charming doesn’t have a lot of aspiring vet technicians. Would you be able to start tomorrow? Full position.” finished the supervisor.

They were both lovely women, the latter in her fifties, with short highlighted blonde hair. She reminded you of your mother a bit.

The younger one seemed incredibly kind, but also a bit airy. Like she could float away to the land of the fairies at a seconds notice. They had introduced themselves as Georgie and Patricia (But “everyone calls me ‘Pat’ or ‘Patty.’).

You nodded in response, trying not to jump out of your chair.

“I would absolutely love that. Thank you for the opportunity.” You smiled warmly at them; a true smile, that reached your eyes.

Maybe someone was looking out for you up there … or … down there. Depending on ones’ beliefs.

“I’ll tell you now that our practice is connected to the town’s pound, “ her hands waved as she spoke, and her big hips swayed from one side to the other as she walked. “It’s so lucky we work together – it really helps as many animals as we can.”

Pat’s accent had a bit of a Southern twang to it, making her even more homely. Even the way she walked, with her hands in the air, waving around as she spoke; even if she wasn’t a mother, she sure would make the perfect Texan one.

“Oh, I’ve never heard of that before-“ your heels clicked and clacked as you both walked down the tiled hallway. The pound was always a sad place in your eyes, but when you entered the conjoining doors, it was anything but.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, “wow,” as you looked around the building. It may be old, but there were hints of love in every corner.

Posters were on the walls of who had found “their forever home,” and then on the other wall were all the eligible animals. To your displeasure, there were more posters of those who hadn’t been adopted.

A desk sat in the middle of the room, with a receptionist who was typing away, but stopped immediately as she saw the two of you.

“Hey Aunt Pat!” The girl had long blonde hair and looked to be about in her early twenties.

“This is my niece, Rebecca,” Pat said with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

“Her favourite niece,” the young woman chimed in. She was very beautiful, and you had an inkling that maybe Pat had a huge part in that young girls life. And not just workwise.

“Hi, I’m Kaelie,” you said, reflecting the same smile back at the girl.

“Nice to meet you. Not a lot of new people come to Charming, so it’s nice to have someone new.” Then the phone started ringing and in an instant, Rebecca answered it.

“She’s a good girl, going to college to study teaching,” Pat said as she led you through another set of doors. The pride in her voice was obvious.

– 🛠 –

“And this is Rex,” her voice was high and bubbly as she rubbed the pit bull’s belly. The old cream coloured dog’s tail was like a propeller.

“He’s gorgeous,” you complimented, crouching down to let him smell your hand.

He gladly did so and gave it a little lick in acceptance.

“We have about eleven dogs up for adoption, and five cats,” Pat went on. She got up and you followed her out of the stall.

The tour lasted another twenty minutes, where you met every animal, their name and background. A few weren’t ready for too much human interaction, and it was those animals that you were excited to work with.

“That’s about it!” Said Pat, she turned and put a hand on her hip.

“This is great, I can’t wait to start,” with open hands, Pat handed you a uniform and grinned.

“Honey, we can’t wait either!”

– 🛠 –

You followed Pat out into the main foyer, and Rebecca was in light conversation with a darkhaired man.

“The offer still stands sweetheart,” he was leaning against the bench, a leash in his hands that was connected to rottweiler that looked as if it hadn’t been fed properly in months.

“You’re a bit too old for me, Tig,” he laughed and shook his head.

“Alright, alright, fair enough-“

“Hey! You leavin’ my Becca alone, right Mr Trager?” Pat’s accent seemed to come out even more.

“’Course I am, you know my love is for you and you only Patty,” Tig walked over and gave Pat a kiss on both cheeks.

You furrowed your brows and watched in amazement. He had the same kutte as Opie.

“And who is this lovely lady?” Tig’s eyes flicked to you and your head turned to the side, you weren’t one for fake flattery.

“The new vet tech,” Patty answered in a loved-up voice. She was definitely one for fake flattery. Well… she probably didn’t catch on to the sham.

“Trainee, vet tech,” you corrected her. You didn’t want people to think you were something other than who you were.

“Ah, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Tig said with a wink.

Once again, you raised your eyebrows, but now turned to Pat for an answer.

“Oh – Tiggy here brings in strays that he’s found.”

It all clicked, and something shifted inside you; respect. Even if he was acting like a dickhead.

“Sure do, too many bastards in this town who don’t look after their dogs,” you could hear the rising passion in his voice.

“Too many bastards everywhere,” you echoed, and he looked at you differently then. Maybe he just found some respect for you too.

“Okay, lets get this guy some food,” Pat said and sauntered away.

From far away you could hear her open a cabinet and pour kibble into a bowl. The phone rang again, and Rebecca answered, her customer voice sounding the exact same as before.

Crouching down, you lifted your hand and let the skinny dog sniff it. His brown eyes flickered toward you and your hand, but tentatively he stepped forward. You were still, knowing that any loud or sudden movements could throw him off.

Sniff, lick, sniff, lick, he kept doing it over until you were able to give him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

The whole while, Tig was staring down at you, impressed.

“You’re really good with him,” Trager said, behind down to be eye level with you.

“I just – understand animals,” you said while shrugging lightly. It wasn’t everyday that you got a compliment from a biker.

“It’s good you’re here, I think this place needs all the help it can get.” Tig whispered the last part, and luckily Rebecca was still on the phone.

But you weren’t alone for long when Pat came back with two bowls.

“Now here we go,” she sat them down lightly and all three of you moved backwards.

Within seconds he started devouring it, barely chewing the kibble, or even taking a breath. The sound of his chewing was quite humorous, and you couldn’t help but smile.

This is what you wanted to do. Help those who are unable to help themselves.

– 🛠 –

With a bag containing your uniform and a few forms to fill out, you waited outside for Opie. Not believing your day, you soon heard the rumble of a bike and looked up. The sun was glaring in your eyes but not enough to render you completely blind.

It was quite obviously not Opie, but Tig, who sat on his bike a few parks down.

“Hey! You got a ride?” He yelled over the rumble of the bike.

You were about to yell back when you walked over to him. Immediately he cut the engine.

“I do, I only met him this morning though. His name is Opie-“

“-Opie? You gotta be kiddin’ me, he’s one of the Sons.”

“Pardon?” You said, squinting your eyes.

“Oh – we ride together, we’re in a Club.” He turned then, to show you the back of his leather vest. Almost like an excited kid showing you his brand-new toy, he pointed to the words.

“Ah, I thought it looked familiar,” you replied, leaning on one leg and putting a hand out to block out the sun.

“Where do you need to go, maybe I can give Opie a call, save him a ride,” Tig took out a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slid them on.

“I need to go to…” You needed a moment to remember the mechanics name, “Ooh Teller Morrow mechanics!” You said, clapping your hands once and leaning to the side.

“No shit, that’s where I work. Small world,” he said with a laugh.

“I think that’s said a lot in this town,” you said smiling.

There were no warning signs, no funny feelings in your stomach to indicate danger. Everything seemed … normal. Like you were talking to a genuinely good, albeit flirty, man.

But he could see the hesitation on his face and something in him understood. He’d want his daughters to act the same way. Getting on some stranger’s bike isn’t the best decision.

“I can call Ope and you can talk to him if that eases anything?”

You declined, already making your decision. A man who brings stray dogs to the pound for help has a green tick in your book.

“Just don’t go too fast, ‘kay?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He handed you the helmet and held out a hand to help you onto the seat.

– 🛠 –

The ride wasn’t terrible, even enjoyable at times but there were a few close calls with red lights. Ultimately you didn’t feel as safe with Tig as you did with Opie, who had somehow made you feel safe as soon as he accelerated.

Tig slowed while turning into the compound and you let loose the breath you had been subconsciously holding onto. He parked next to a row of other bikes, turned off the engine and helped you off the bike. In all honesty, your thighs were killing you. Skirts were not made for motorbike riding.

You slide your bag over your shoulder and followed Tig. He was talking but nothing was registering, your mind was too busy comprehending the big Teller Morrow sign as well as keeping an eye out for … a certain someone.

Within moments a young guy, around your age, come out of the mechanics area. His pale blonde hair gleamed in the sunshine and Tig introduced him as “Jax Teller.”

He wiped his hand on a dirty rag, slung it over his shoulder and held out a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly. What was with this Club and flirting?

“Pleasures all mine,” you said with a courteous smile, taking his hand, you couldn’t help but look at the rings on his fingers.

As if you were shaking a bag of food to attract your cat, Opie seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“I see you’ve made it to Teller Morrow mechanics,” he said – mentally cursing himself for such a lame comment. And if you had been looking at the other two guys, you would see the smirks on their faces. But all you were focused on what the giant of a man.

“I have indeed,” you replied, mentally worrying about how to stand, where to put your hands, if you were standing up straight.

Like you had saved him from feeling like a fool, he gave you a warm smile and ignored the silent taunts from the other Sons.

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fallin-4-ya · 3 years

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eavesdropping / c.d.

Eavesdropping

cedric diggory x reader

summary: at the Quidditch World Cup, y/n meets cedric diggory, who sweeps her right off her feet. but little do they know, her friends are watching the scenes unfold and have a lot to say on the matter.

warnings: slight mention of food, bickering, & i think that's it! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

requested? yes/no

words: 2k

The morning of the Quidditch World Cup was nothing short of eventful in the Weasley household. Coming from a wizarding family herself, y/n, knew how important the cup was and had been waiting all summer for the match. Being close as you can get with the Weasley Family, she had been invited to accompany them to the game. It was exciting to say the least. Y/n and Ginny could hardly sleep the night before just from pure adrenaline. However, morning approached quickly and abruptly as ever.

Ginny and y/n were awoken up by an already dressed Hermione, who aggressively shook them awake. “Let’s go, you two,” Hermione shouted, throwing open the curtains. “Mrs. Weasley says that breakfast is ready! And I have to go up and wake the boys.”

Ginny let out a groan and flopped back down on her bed; y/n let out a small giggle, getting up from the fortress of blankets that covered her the whole night. She looked at Ginny, still star fished on her bed, “Come on, Gin,” y/n spoke gently. “We got a quidditch match to go to.” And in nearly an instant she jolted up from her spot and threw on clothes as quickly as possible.

Ginny and y/n descended down the stairs as one, dress and ready to go. Mrs. Weasley greeted them with a kiss on the forehead each as they sat down at the table for breakfast. Mr. Weasley’s voiced bellowed through the first floor, “Good morning, ladies! Fine day, it is! Excited?”

“Excited, Dad? Like that’s even a question,” spoke Ginny with a mouth full of food.

“We could hardly sleep last night!” y/n joined in, serving herself. “Who are we meeting anyway, Mr. Weasley?”

“Amos Diggory and his son, Cedric. We work in the ministry together. I believe your father knows him as well,” Mr. Weasley said with a smile.

Molly turned around to the table, “Cedric, name sounds awfully familiar,” She pondered, then a lightbulb went off in her head. “Oh, yes. He is in the same year as the twins, y/n. The year just below you, I am sure you have seen him around.”

Y/n nodded, not recalling his name. Hogwarts was a big school after all. Molly called upstairs to the boys, yelling that it was time to go. A very sleepy Ron and Harry walked down the stairs, followed by an agitated Hermione. Ginny looked towards y/n, letting out a laugh. The lot of them gathered their belongings and said their goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley. Then, the eight of them: Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and y/n, set off to where the portkey was placed to get to the Quidditch Stadium.

They weren’t walking long when two men came into view. Mr. Weasley turned to the sleep deprived teenagers behind him, “There they are, the Diggory’s! Alright gather around everyone.”

Mr. Diggory and Mr. Weasley approached one another, shaking hands with grins on their faces. Then Mr. Weasley turned to Cedric, and suddenly y/n couldn’t breathe, because how did she not know that this boy existed before today. His figure was lean and fit, his brown curls fell gently around his face and his eyes were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. And Cedric was thinking the exact same thing, because he came up to her quickly after greeting his father’s friend.

“Hey,” Cedric said, looking deep into y/n’s eyes. “I’m Cedric, lovely to meet you.”

“y/n,” she said, extending her hand for him to shake it. Everyone stopped to watch the scene in front of them play out. It was like wandless magic was happening before their very eyes. Sparks flew and the six of y/n’s friends hated every second of it.

“And just like that,” Ginny sighed. “Leaving me for a stocky, Hufflepuff boy. I will admit, I am heartbroken.”

“Oh, sod off, Ginny,” George turned to her.

“Yeah, he’s in our year and we don’t even get to talk to him. We’re the ones who should be complaining.” Fred said, agreeing with his twin.

“Wait, I thought we hated him after what he pulled in the quidditch match last year,” Harry spoke up.

The twins turned simultaneously to him. “Thanks, Harry,” said Fred.

“We almost forgot about that,” George nodded. “We’re with Ginny on this one.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the lot of them, “Guys, just look at them.” They all whipped their heads around to see Cedric and y/n smiling and laughing at each other. Y/n looked shyly at the ground, her face heating up from whatever was said and Cedric looked down at her with the biggest smile anybody had ever seen.

“Gross.” Ron stated.

“Pathetic.” Ginny agreed.

“I think it’s kind of cute,” smiled Hermione.

Mr. Weasley clapped his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention. They all began walking to the portkey together, Cedric and y/n trailing along behind everyone on their journey. The two got along so well, it was hard to believe they had never met before today. It was pure magic.

Soon after arriving to the portkey and using it to take them to the Quidditch World Cup, the parties went their separate ways. The girls gathered in one tent, and the boys in another. When they put all of their bags and such down, Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, “Finally!”

“Didn’t know you were that desperate to get away from your bothers, Gin,” said y/n with a smirk on her face.

“My brothers!” Ginny gaped at her. “Try Cedric. The way he looked at you, disgusting.”

Hermione playfully slapped Ginny, laughing. “We just mean, that it’s pretty clear he likes you.”

“Oh, no,” y/n reassured. “It’s not like that at all! You see, our dads work in the ministry together, so we had a bunch to talk about. You got it all wrong.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and Hermione smiled wide. Their friend was so oblivious, and it was just too cute. After a few hours of playing games and betting on what would happen in the match, it was time to walk over to the stadium.

Once inside they all made their way to the Minister’s box, which had the most spectacular view anyone had ever seen. The group of them, including Cedric, made their way to look at all of the fun souvenirs. Y/n and Cedric wandered off, leaving the rest of the crew to gather around and watch their interactions.

“Cedric’s pretty cool, I reckon,” Ron said eyeing the two down, as they walked over to one of the small stands selling flags. “Almost too cool for y/n, I’ll say.” However, Ron was met by a chorus of disapproving grunts.

“Are you joking, Ron. y/n is clearly way too cool for him. I mean, he’s really only got his good looks going for him.” The crowd of them watched as Cedric bought y/n a small rosette. “Okay, and he’s really nice.” Then he carefully pinned it onto y/n’s jacket for her. “And he’s a gentleman? Godric, could this get any worse!” Ginny practically screamed.

“We lost her so quickly,” sighed Fred. “Gone forever, I reckon.”

“Shush! She’s coming back!” whispered Hermione. They all shuffled back to face the pitch as y/n took her seat next to Hermione and Ginny. “So, how’s Cedric?”

“He’s really sweet, ‘Mione,” y/n smiled to herself. “A really great guy.”

“Sooo, would you hypothetically date him?” asked Ginny, in her attempt to be nonchalant.

“Ginny!” y/n gasped. “I mean– I don’t know. I just met him!”

Ginny smiled at her, “Well, you never know!” She shrugged her shoulders, turning to the Quidditch pitch. The World Cup had finally begun. Cheers rang amongst the crowds as famous players began soaring around the pitch. It was unbelievable, but perhaps Cedric Diggory found the girl sitting just a few rows shy of him even more entertaining than the match happening before him.

After the incredible match between Bulgaria and Ireland, the families headed back to their tents for the night. They all gathered around one another talking about the highlights of the game, speaking excitedly amongst themselves. Though it wasn’t that long before Cedric found the group and began chatting away with y/n, going slightly ahead of the others. They looked so happy together, two teenagers head over heels for each other.

The two stopped a few feet away from the Weasley’s tents, where they stood chatting a bit more, not wanting the night to end. Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny all crowded around behind a tent to hear what was going on between the two.

“Are they really that oblivious?” asked Ron.

“You’re one to talk, Ron,” snapped Ginny.

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” he barked back at his little sister.

Ginny rolled her eyes far back into her head, “Oh, honestly, Ronald.”

Fred waved his hand in front of Ginny and Ron, quieting them, “Pipe down, you two. We’re trying to listen.” The younger siblings obeyed, sneaking closer to where Cedric and y/n stood. A faint conversation was heard between the two.

“I had a great time with you today, y/n,” Cedric spoke softly.

“Me, too,” she smiled sweetly back at him. “Thanks, for everything.”

“Let’s say you can pay me back by letting me take you on a date to Hogsmeade when we get back to school.” He grinned, a rosy tint glowing on his cheeks.

“I’d like that a lot.” y/n whispered.

However, before the conversation could be heard any further a soft ouch escaped Ron’s lips. A chorus of shushes were sent his way immediately. Ron laid on the floor, clutching his right foot. He gaped at his friends and siblings, “Not my fault, Ginny stood on my foot! I think she broke my bloody toe!”

“I did not such thing!” she scream-whispered back.

The lot of them turned around at the two arguing shushing the again. Harry, who was intently watching the scene, scolded them, “Pipe down, it’s getting good!”

“Well go on, tell me!” Ron said back.

“Okay, okay,” said Harry. “Well, he just took her hand. Now he’s got out some parchment and –what’s he writing? – oh, he’s writing down his address so she can write to him. She took the slip and said she would write to him. And now. And now–“

“And now what, Harry! You can’t leave me hanging like this!” Ron exclaimed.

“He’s leaning in! Merlin, he’s leaning in!” Ginny shouted. The whole group stood on their toes, anxiously awaiting what would happen next. They we’re practically pulling out their hair watching the scene in front of them unfold.

“He kissed her!” stated Harry, proudly.

“On the cheek?” George said as more of a question than a statement.

Fred looked confused beyond belief, “Seriously, who kisses a girl on the cheek?”

“A gentleman,” Hermione and Ginny swooned together.

But, all six of them were pulled out of their trance by footsteps heading in their direction. y/n was coming back to where the tent. They all suddenly jolted out of their huddling stance and attempted to act as normally as they possibly could in the few second they had.

“What’s up with you lot?” y/n asked, laughing and rejoining the awkward looking group, “And why is Ron sat on the floor?” Ron gave Ginny a look before rising to his feet.

Fred cleared his throat, “So, then what’s the story?”

George continued, “With Cedric we mean.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow, before letting out small giggle. “What’s the matter, you couldn’t hear the rest of our conversation?”

The six of them stopped breathing and looked at y/n with pleading eyes. How did she know? Hermione gasped and Ron shook his head in disbelief. Harry was the first to pipe up, “Well, we were just –you see we were only. You know,” he stumbled through his words. He looked at his friends, “Seriously, no help?”

Y/n threw her head back laughing, because they were just so obvious. “I’ll tell you all what, after we go on our date at Hogsmeade, you’ll all be the first to know.”

And it wasn’t long after that when her friends all embraced her, with laughter coming far too easily. Sometimes, eavesddropping does come in handy!

(a/n~ thank you for reading!!! this is a lil different from my normal writing style, so i hope you liked it! thank you to the lovely anon who requested this idea! my requests are open! sending love and positive vibes! -xo mari)

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric x reader #cedric x y/n #hufflepuff #hermione granger #Ron Weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #Fred and George #ginny weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction

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hazza-bear-care · 3 years

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First Time

Summary: Every girl fantasizes how to make her first time amazing, but Y/N never got it. That is until Steve Rogers comes to her rescue.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Virgin!Reader

Warnings: description of panic attack, SMUT, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), some minor swearing. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING. YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ THIS!!!

THIS IS A LONG ONE BOYS! BUCKLE UP!

~~~~~~~~

When she was 16, it seemed like everyone in her school was losing their virginities. It had gotten to the point where Y/N thought she was the only girl in her friend group who hadn’t had sex yet. Her two best friends had managed to lose theirs AND keep their boyfriends, so she thought the same would happen to her. But after graduating high school and college (twice), Y/N was still wondering when she was going to get her perfect first time.

Her job didn’t help to keep her distracted, though. Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D regularly worked with the Avengers, so Y/N interacted with the most attractive people she had ever seen on an almost every day basis.

“Earth to Y/N! What’s got you so distracted today?” Maria Hill asked as the two walked towards the conference room, data pad tucked beneath her arm as Y/N carried paper files for Steve and Bucky.

“Huh? Oh, nothing really. I was just... thinking.” Y/N replied, hoping that would be enough to make Maria back off just a little bit.

“Thinking about what?” Well, that worked.

“Um, can I ask you a personal question?” Y/N asked, stopping in the hallway.

“Sure, what is it?” The look of concern on Maria’s face almost made Y/N reconsider asking.

“How old were you when you lo... lost your virginity?” Y/N looked at her heels and shook her knees, trying to distract herself even more.

“I was 17. I lost it on prom night and if I could take it back, I would. Why?” Y/N was silent, her eyes still not meeting Maria’s as she gnawed on her bottom lip. “You’re still a virgin? Y/N how is that possible?!”

“How is what possible?” A deep voice asked from behind them causing Maria and Y/N to jump. Steve stood in his place, a quizzical look on his face as the two girls in front of him tried to gather themselves.

“Oh, Captain Rogers! Agent Hill and I were just discussing the mission you’re going on in a few days.” Y/N fumbled, handing Steve the mission highlights in his folder as the three continued to make their way to the conference room.

“Is that one for Bucky?” Steve asked, gesturing to the other folder in Y/N’s grasp.

“Yes, it is. I know the two of you aren’t comfortable with technology, so I printed the briefings for you.”

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, Doll. Thank you.” The pair shared a smile as Steve excused himself into the conference room. Maria glanced at Y/N, a very big smile on her face.

“What?” Y/N asked as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, anxious for Bucky to arrive so the meeting can start. She tucked her hair behind her ears as she tried to avoid Maria’s staring.

“You like him! You like Steve!”

“Will you be quiet?! You don’t even know if that’s true or not, Maria!” The harsh whispering echoed in the almost silent hallway and Y/N feared that Steve had heard Maria’s accusation through the doors that lead to the conference room.

“You don’t need to try and hide it, Y/N. Steve is a good choice and from what I’ve heard, he’s GREAT in bed.” Maria argued, giddy at the possibility of her best friend shacking up with Captain America. Maria couldn’t hide her grin further as Bucky’s thundering footsteps were heard echoing down the hallway.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Bucky greeted as Y/N handed him his file. He took it with a smile and held the door open for the girls as they all entered the conference room.

~~~~~~

The meeting was so long. Y/N usually loved mission briefings, but she couldn’t stay focused. Every time she looked up from her notepad, Steve’s profile just happened to catch her attention: the sharpness of his jawline accentuating the angles of his nose. Maria cleared her throat which caused Steve to turn his head, catching the most recent glance from Y/N as she blushed and looked down at her notepad. Steve smiled a little at her reaction to being caught staring.

Steve had quite a crush on the newest S.H.I.E.L.D agent: her eyes told a story he’d love to listen to, her hair was always ridiculously shiny and looked like it smelled fantastic, and her curvy figure did nothing to stifle his feelings for her. Y/N was always so innocent, keeping to herself and opting to bury her nose in her work rather than going out and partying. She always took his needs as well as Bucky’s into consideration, especially when it came to teaching them how to adjust to the technology that they couldn’t avoid. She recommended books ranging anywhere from Great Gatsby to the Harry Potter series. The three of them (Steve, Bucky, and Y/N) regularly had movie nights and heated arguments about whether the book was better than the movie.

Y/N showed the two super soldiers everything she could. They were always together, yet it didn’t seem weird. The only thing that she couldn’t stop were her blossoming feelings for Steve. She was bad at hiding her feelings, but she also knew she couldn’t tell Steve how she felt and risk embarrassing herself forever.

“Alright, dismissed.” Y/N felt her blood rush cold as Fury dismissed the group. She knew Maria was going to escort Bucky out of the room the first chance she got, but Y/N wasn’t sure if she could handle being alone with Steve.

Maria and Bucky dismissed themselves to discuss the briefing, leaving Y/N and Steve alone together. Trying to keep her focus on cleaning up papers and coffee mugs that were scattered around the table, Y/N attempted to keep her breathing even.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You seem kind of flustered today.” She froze.

“I’m good, Steve. Just.. personal things. Lots of stuff on my mind.”

“Like what?” Y/N didn’t want to have this conversation, especially since Steve and Bucky have a mission to go on in less than three days time, but he asked.

“Um nothing important, I promise.” Steve wasn’t having it. She was usually so open and honest especially about if there was anything going on in her life. Now she wasn’t talking and all Steve wanted to do was help.

“Y/N if you tell me, I can probably help.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the suggestion. “I don’t understand. Why was that funny?”

“Oh, Steve, I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is something you can help with.”

“Oh yeah? Try me, Y/N.” The stern look on Steve’s face was enough to make Y/N’s smile drop to the floor. He was serious, and she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. He wasn’t going to help her with this.

“I... I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” And with that, Y/N walked out of the conference room and back to her apartment.

~~~~~

Y/N had tried to avoid both Steve and Bucky for the next few days, the awkwardness eating her from the inside out. She avoided their phone calls and invites to movie night at the compound. Tony had even sent Happy over to make sure Y/N was still alive when she didn’t show up to work for the third day in a row.

“Y/N, you can’t keep avoiding them! What happened between you guys?” Natasha asked after showing up to Y/N’s apartment unannounced with three bottles of wine, Wanda and Maria following close behind.

“I just... ugh I’m so stupid! Nothing would have happened if I hadn’t asked Maria a stupid question!” Y/N wanted to scream; bury her face into a pillow and go until her throat was raw. At least then she’d have a reason not to talk to Steve again.

“It was a reasonable question to ask, Y/N. And trust me, no one will think differently of you just because you’re a virgin.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Maria knew she was in trouble. She had just spilled her best friend’s greatest secret and there was no taking it back. If looks could kill, Maria would be dead ten times over with the glare that Y/N was giving her.

“You’re a virgin?” Wanda asked softly, testing to see if it was safe to talk again.

“God! Why not just yell it from the rooftop next time, Maria!” Y/N had barely touched her first glass of wine, but she downed it in about three sips out of frustration. “I never should have said anything. I’d rather die a virgin than keep being made fun of it by my so-called friends.”

“Y/N, shut it. We are your friends and we are NOT making fun of you. We just can’t seem to wrap our minds around how you’re 26 years old and still a virgin. You’re gorgeous. You have an amazing body and you are a complete badass with a weapon. How have you managed to stay a virgin for that long and with the history you have?” Natasha clarified their confusion in a more understandable way, which obviously caught Y/N’s attention.

“I honestly don’t know. My mom scared me out of doing it when I was in school, but that was mostly due to her fears about me growing up. Then I went to college and just opted to focus on school so I could get the job I loved. I guess I just forgot about it. But now I’m here with an extremely obvious crush on America’s Golden Boy and no way to talk to him about this.” Y/N rested her hands on her face and did everything she could to hold back her tears of stress and embarrassment. Someone put their hand on Y/N’s back in hopes of comforting her, but she wasn’t one to seek comfort through anyone’s touch. She nudged the hand off of her shoulder and left her small kitchen to pout in her bedroom, the other three women left confused in their places.

~~~

After a quick phone call to Steve from Natasha, the super soldier was standing outside of Y/N’s apartment. The details of the call were fuzzy, seeing as Natasha only said something along the lines of “Y/N is upset and she needs to see you”. Thinking she was in danger, Steve tried asking for more details, the suitcase for his mission left abandoned on his bed. But Natasha could only request that Steve go to Y/N’s apartment to fix this, which confused the super soldier further.

With a knock on the door, Steve held his breath as he waited for the girl of his dreams to invite him inside. His heart started racing faster as his enhanced hearing pinpointed the quick footfalls of Y/N as she scurried to the door. The locks clicked and the barrier was pulled open, the slight smile on her face falling immediately.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” Y/N asked, voice coming out no louder than a whisper.

“Nat called me and said you were upset. I thought something happened, so I came here as fast as I could. Are you okay?” Steve was masking his panic poorly, the words coming out rushed.

“I’m fine! How many times do I have to tell you people?” Y/N walked away from the door and threw her hands in the air with exasperation. Steve followed, closing the door behind him and turning the deadbolt. He didn’t even feel safe in this neighborhood.

“What do you mean?”

“I made the mistake of telling Maria one of my biggest secrets and now the entire team is worried about me! They keep asking me if I’m okay or if I’ll BE okay. Then she brought over Wanda and Natasha as if she KNEW I didn’t want anyone else to hear, but they had already known! I just don’t know what to do anymore!” Y/N’s breath had quickened as she began hyperventilating, her fingers anchoring themselves in her hair. Tears began streaming down her face as her breathing strains and Steve knew what he needed to do. He surged forward and grabbed Y/N by her shoulders, spinning her until her back was against his chest. He slid down the wall until they were sitting, and his next step was to unravel her hands from her hair. While humming a soft unknown tune, he worked on massaging her wrists until her hands fell away from her head and landed on his forearms. Steve wrapped his arms around her as she finished crying, her fat tears falling against his fingers.

“Better?” Steve questioned after Y/N’s breathing had evened out. She shrugged. “Gimme a color?”

“Yellow.” Confused and wants to talk about it, just not yet. Steve nodded, and adjusted his grip, smiling slightly when he felt her dig her nails into his skin.

“Alright, hon. I’ll be here when you want to talk. Let’s get you some water?” He helped her get off the floor as he found his way to the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of water out from the fridge and twisted the top off before walking back to Y/N. He handed the her the bottle as she made her way to the couch while he chose something to watch.

“You really wanna know what’s wrong?” Her voice made Steve jump, but he nodded once he was situated in his spot.

“Of course I want to know. I still think I can help.”

“I’m a virgin. That’s what Maria and I were talking about before the mission briefing. And then she found out I had a crush on you and just.... took it and ran. Granted I wasn’t trying to hide how I felt, but it still wasn’t her business. I didn’t want to know if you or Bucky had found out and I didn’t want to know what you had to say. I don’t want to lose what we have just because I want to sleep with you....” More tears fell from Y/N’s eyes as she confessed her feelings to Steve. Steve sat speechless at the other end of the couch, eyes glued to her shoulder.

Steve exhaled, his shocked breath coming out like a groan. When he actually looked back to Y/N, he could see how scared she was. His freezing clearly didn’t do anything to make the moment less terrifying.

“I knew. A-about the crush at least. Tony kind of clued me into it at my birthday party. I must admit, he kind of made me realize MY crush in the moment as well. But, Y/N, are you absolutely positive that you’d want me to take your virginity?”

“You’re the only one I’d want to. It’s the right choice.” And with that, Steve lunged forward and crushed her lips with his, emotions flooding them both. Adoration, devotion, passion, love overwhelmed their senses as their lips continued to move together, their mouths fitting together perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Steve commented once they pulled away breathless. Y/N smiled at Steve’s comment, a slight blush on her cheeks. Steve leaned in again, but this kiss was calmer and less rushed. He wanted to savor the moment, etch the feeling of her lips into his mind for all eternity. Wanting to escalate the kiss a little further, Steve licked at Y/N’s bottom lip. She froze, the feeling unnatural and foreign; nonetheless she opened her mouth just enough for Steve’s tongue to slip past her teeth. A small moan travelled from her throat to his mouth which prompted the super soldier to smile into the kiss.

Out of breath, Y/N broke away from the kiss and stood from her seat, a quizzical look on Steve’s face.

“Can we... gotomyroom?” She mumbled quickly.

“One more time? I didn’t quite hear you, hon.” Steve mocked, a slight smirk on his face.

Exhaling, Y/N prepared herself to speak again. “Can we go to my room?”

Steve stood and walked over to Y/N, kissing her deeply as his hands cupped her cheeks. “Lead the way, baby.”

Y/N’s room was small and scarcely decorated, almost as if she didn’t have enough time to finish it before something happened. There weren’t many knickknacks or tchotchkes, but there were three shelves completely overflowing with books. Steve loved how smart she was, but still couldn’t wrap his mind around how scared she seemed to be in the moment. Y/N had sat down on the bed as if waiting for the man in front of her to make a move, but this time it was Steve who was frozen in his place.

“Steve?”

“Are you sure about this? I need to hear you say it, Y/N.” The commanding tone in his voice wasn’t one she was unfamiliar with, yet it still sent a delicious tingle between her legs.

“I’m sure. I want this. Come fuck me, Steve.” The confidence in her voice shocked them both, but Steve didn’t need anymore persuasion. Stepping forward, he all but tackled her to the bed, her small frame trapped and mushed underneath the broad expanse of his chest as their lips met once again. Steve’s fingers travelled under her shirt before fiddling with the plain cups of her bra. Y/N’s breathing stuttered slightly, but she made no effort to remove the warm hand from her breast. A surge of tenacity sizzled through Y/N’s veins as she pulled away from Steve and ripped her shirt over her head. When Steve paused to admire her body, practically drooling at the sight, she dipped her head and began wrapping her arms around her torso.

“No. You don’t have to hide from me, Y/N. You’re beautiful, okay?” Y/N nodded, but still made no effort to remove her arms from her chest. With a sigh and another kiss, Steve worked his fingers under her arms and pinned her wrists above her head. “No hiding.”

Y/N whimpered softly at Steve’s domination, but she didn’t want him to stop. Steve began trailing kisses down her neck as his other hand snuck behind her to pop her bra open, releasing her wrists for a few seconds to rid her body of the undergarment before pinning her to the bed again. Y/N gasped at the nippy air in her room, mentally damning herself for how cold she liked to keep her room. All previous thoughts evacuated as Steve wrapped his soft lips around one of her nipples, the bud pebbling instantly in his mouth. Y/N whined as Steve sucked and flicked his tongue around her nipple, hissing slightly when his teeth brushed against it. He moved to her other breast, smiling slightly at her panting. Once he chose to stop the torment on her chest, Steve slithered down to her waist. Pausing for a moment, he savored the image of the girl beneath him, the fear in her eyes still very prominent.

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve asked, his attention glued to Y/N’s eyes as if she were still fully clothed.

“No. Please don’t stop, Steve.” With that, he continued. He let go of her wrists as he worked the button on her pants open, pulling them off inch by inch and throwing them over his shoulder once they were off completely. He smiled softly at the sight of her blue panties seeing as there was absolutely nothing sexy about them at all. Stuff like that never mattered to Steve, of course, but he found her lack of lace amusing. He left her panties alone, though, opting instead to disrobe himself instead. It was only fair that he match her nakedness before continuing. Once he was left in just his boxers, Y/N felt her cheeks flush at the sight of how big his bulge was. She wasn’t completely inexperienced, but he would be the biggest she had ever seen.

“Hey. Eyes up here, princess.” Steve gestured to his eyes as he slunk back between her legs, his gaze never leaving hers. He placed a few chaste kisses on her left leg, starting at her knee and trailing up her thigh. He skipped her apex entirely as he repeated his movements on her right leg. Smirking at her whine when he went to kiss her thigh again, he gently tugged her panties to the side, moaning at the sight of her bare pussy. Flicking his eyes up to gauge her reaction, Steve leaned forward and kissed her lower lips twice before sliding his tongue through her folds. Y/N flinched and gasped at the foreign feeling, yet brought one hand down to tangle her fingers in Steve’s blonde hair. Captain America smirked at her reaction and repeated his previous motion with more pressure each time. He isolated her clit between his lips and swirled his tongue around the sensitive nub, causing Y/N to throw her head back in pleasure. He chuckled, the vibrations sending a shiver up her spine as she felt a tightness in her stomach. Steve took advantage of her distraction and slipped a finger inside her tight entrance, his tongue still working furiously on her clit. Once he decided that she could handle it, he pushed another finger into her entrance, a slight sting radiating around her pussy. He pumped his fingers in time to his movements on her clit, curling his fingers upwards twice before Y/N came with a yelp. Steve stayed put, riding her through her high before pulling himself away.

He stood once more and discarded her panties along with his boxers and crawled back over her body, his face hovering over hers. Y/N could feel his stiff member poking into her thigh as she tried to focus her attention on the man above her and not on the thoughts running through her mind.

“Y/N, you’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

Making eye contact with Steve, Y/N could see that worry was more prominent than lust, his baby blue eyes swimming with conflict.

“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you, Steve.” She lifted her head off the mattress and pressed her lips to his, mostly to ease her own nerves rather than his. While they were kissing, Steve’s hand dipped between them to position himself at her entrance, sliding the tip into her tight heat. He resisted the urge to moan at the feeling, opting to focus his attention on her comfort. Y/N had hissed slightly at the feeling, but didn’t break away from the kiss seeing as it was the only thing that was truly distracting her from the pain. Steve’s thumb began circling around her clit as he continued to thrust inch by inch, sheathing himself inside her wet heat entirely. He let her adjust to the foreign feeling before pulling away from the kiss and moving his hips slightly, watching her face the entire time.

Her eyes were pinched shut and her eyebrows furrowed. Her nostrils flared as she regulated her breathing, slowly but surely relaxing at the feeling of Steve inside her.

“More.” She whispered as Steve slid out of her pussy almost entirely. He snapped his hips forward and watched as her eyes fluttered and her jaw dropped into a perfect ‘O’. He kept a slow but steady pace, allowing himself to get lost in the feeling of just how tight she was while keeping an ear open for any sounds of discomfort. His strokes hit that spot deep inside her pussy, causing her legs to shake and wrap around Steve’s waist, a loud moan falling from her lips.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Steve groaned as he picked up his pace slightly, not wanting to break Y/N her first night. Y/N was too blissed out to scold Steve for his language, but it truly seemed as if neither of them cared in the moment. Her fingers wrapped around his biceps, nails digging sharply into his skin which Steve took as a sign to speed up once more. The headboard to Y/N’s bed started knocking against the wall as Steve’s brutal pace took her breath away.

“Fuck, Steve, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Y/N yelled, her head thrown back in pleasure and bliss. The super soldier took advantage of how open her neck was and splayed his warm lips across the column of her throat, kissing and sucking until a very dark mark was left behind. He trailed hickeys and love bites down to her chest, scattering the marks wherever his lips could reach. His fingers dug into her hips as his pace seemed to get ever faster.

Before she had a moment to process how good she was feeling, Y/N was flipped onto her stomach and one of Steve’s hands wrapped in her hair, pulling slightly. She moaned at the new sensation as Steve growled in his throat. The hand that wasn’t in her hair wrapped around her waist, allowing his fingers to toy with her clit. Another moan filled the air, along with the sinful sounds her pussy was making. Steve was dizzy; the feeling of being inside her, the wonderful sounds she was making, the smell of sex in the air all contributed to his rising orgasm.

“Fuck, Steve! I-I’m close!” Y/N whined from underneath him, her face buried in her pillow and her fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

“Me too. Let go, Y/N. I’ve got you, baby.” Steve muttered close to her ear, his hips stuttering slightly. With Steve’s permission, Y/N’s body started to shake as her climax washed over her. Steve’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as she clenched around his dick, the super soldier not being able to hold back his own climax as he pumped her full of his cum. They both collapsed onto the bed, panting.

Y/N seemed to come to her senses faster than Steve did as she ran to the bathroom to clean herself up. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and the girl she saw was almost unrecognizable: dark purple bruises covered her pale skin, her hair was a tangled mess, and there were noticeable marks from where Steve’s hand had been on her hip. A strange quietness took over her mind and it was almost like her body was running on autopilot. She grabbed her bathrobe off the hook by the door and secured it around her body tightly, hiding the marks that she knew she should cherish. Once she entered her room, Steve was completely dressed again and sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, worry very prominent in his voice. With a nod, Y/N sat next to him, but opted to keep some space between them. She didn’t regret what happened, she just needed time to process it. “Can I have a color?”

“Yellow, but it’ll be red if you ask again, Steve.” He smiled sadly and stood, leaving his place on the bed to kneel in front of Y/N. Her eyes seemed dull, but bright at the same time. Her gaze was everywhere except Steve, and once again she was chewing on her bottom lip. Steve reached up to tuck some hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead when he stood up again.

“We can talk about this later, if you want to. Just know that you’re not going to lose me because of this, okay?” Y/N nodded. Steve lifted her chin and gave her a brief kiss on the lips. It was soft and timid, almost as if he believed he was overstepping his boundaries. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll be back in a week; two at the latest. We can talk then.” With one more soft kiss to her lips, Steve left.

She wasn’t a virgin anymore, and she owed that to her friends. She just couldn’t understand why she felt so guilty about it.

Steve had just gotten back to his apartment by the time he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. His heart almost broke at the text message in front of him:

“Come back. I need you.”

#avengers imagine #steve rogers imagine #captain america #bucky barnes imagine #tony stark #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #marvel imagine

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eggjorp · 3 years

Text

Ch2 - Boxers or Briefs?

Main Masterlist

3AM Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Insomnia

Notes: swearing, angst, comedy, 3k

You end up drifting off at around six and wake up to both your alarm blaring at half past eight and your head throbbing with a similar kind of ring. You get out of bed, sighing as you trudge to the bathroom, getting ready for class.

You swap your pyjama bottoms for jeans and throw a hoodie on top, grabbing the bag you carefully packed the night before (one of your few good habits) and a banana you stuff into your mouth as you leave. Once you arrive in class you silently sit next to your group of friends and grab the closest source of caffeine.

“Black coffee? Are you fucking with me? You’re such an old man oh my god!” you exclaim after taking a big gulp of the stolen coffee.

“Yet you’re still happily drinking it? Fuck off that’s mine, you kept me up late I need it!” Doyoung retorts.

“I didn’t do shit actually. If I remember correctly you told me to shut the fuck up and you went to bed. And you ignored me! A lot! I told you, I’m sensitive!” you pout as you hand him back his coffee. During this interaction the rest of your friends sit there in confusion, you don’t bother trying to explain, not enough energy.

“Okay did y’all fuck or what?” Jaehyun asks pointedly, and Johnny tuts at him for his explicitness. Instead of replying you wink at Jaehyun and ignore Doyoung’s disapproving glare. Jaehyun gasps dramatically, “Oh my god y’all really fucked? I thought you guys were like archenemies, but FINALLY!” his words catch the attention of the people sitting around but it doesn’t last long as he offers them his signature charming smile as an apology.

“We didn’t fuck, they texted me at three am and five am, calling me a bum and a poopyhead? They’re actually so immature. How you’re at such a prestigious university I’ll never understand. Perhaps you paid your way in? Fucked the dean of admissions?” he turns to you, quirking his eyebrow.

You give him a smirk, “Darling, you don’t need to worry about how eventful my sex life is. If I were you I’d worry about yours.” you poke, knowing full well Doyoung prioritises his studies over relationships. It is something you admire but you would never tell him that, god no, you would never give him the satisfaction.

“Should I be envious that your grades resemble your sex life? Full of Ds?” he snaps back, and you purse your lips to stop a snort, as you reach down to pull your laptop out of your bag and hide your face.

Before the lecture starts you reach your hand over Jaehyun to grab Doyoung’s coffee once more, finishing it with a quick gulp before smiling sweetly and dropping it into the bin beside you at the end of the row.

“That was uncalled for.” Doyoung’s jaw tenses and he glares at you. If eyes could kill, you would be dead ten times over by now. Nothing new though, you’ve grown immune to his stare considering how many times you’ve fallen victim to it. Annoying Doyoung is the highlight of your day—no, week— and has become part of your routine.

“Guess what?” you lean over the desk and beckon Doyoung to lean over and meet you in the middle. He stares at you blankly, refusing to move, and you roll your eyes, “Your face was uncalled for.” you grin, once more, before returning to your seat and focusing your attention on the start of the lecture.

“For fucks sake, the stubble in my armpits keeps stabbing me. It's so uncomfortable!” you rub at them, hoping to soothe the skin. Johnny laughs and Doyoung rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that’s information we needed to know.”

“Your face isn’t information we needed to know.” you bite back, sticking your tongue out at him, watching his jaw tense and teeth grinding.

“You know, if you keep grinding your teeth like that, you’re gonna flatten them all. You’re gonna look like an old man with no teeth at the age of 25!” you snort, pointing your finger at him.

“I wouldn’t grind them if you didn’t stress me out so much!” he scoffs.

“I wouldn’t stress you out if you didn’t stress me out!” you immediately return. Johnny is laughing at you both for the entire duration of this conversation and inwardly you congratulate yourself for providing such brilliant entertainment.

“What the fuck do I do?” he asks as you three reach the McDonald’s, “You exist.” you deadpan, ignoring him as you walk past him to get into line. He rolls his eyes for about the twentieth time today and doesn’t respond. Doyoung decides it’s better to ignore you back.

“Johnny, Dongyoung, what do you guys want?” you ask.

“Umm, cheeseburger, fries, strawberry milkshake,” Johnny responds, followed by silence. You look expectantly at Doyoung.

“Hey? You big bum, what do you want?” you ask Doyoung, poking his side. He falters for a second, “Uh, Chicken nuggets, Large.”

You nod and turn to order, “But why?” you look back at him, confused, “Why are you ordering me food?”

This time it’s you who rolls their eyes, “Are you rejecting free food? Okay, I see how it is.”

“No, I’m not! Just wondering...” you ignore and order, telling them to sit down as you wait for your food. Once you return with the food you sit down, drinking your hot chocolate and munching on some chips.

“Yo, have you guys watched the new Pokémon movie yet?” Johnny asks. You shake your head.

“It’s probably gonna be shit. People go for the Pokémon, not the plot.” Doyoung pokes. “The plot is the Pokémon you dumbass,” you respond.

“Regardless of the plot or the Pokémon let’s go watch it!” Johnny suggests excitedly. Reluctantly you all make your way to the cinema, buying a large popcorn to share, and get your tickets for the movie.

“Hey, Doyoung?”

“What?”

“You’re an expired waffle.” The room may be dark, but you don’t need light to know that Doyoung was rolling his eyes.

“You’re a useless paperclip.” he retorts and at this, you gasp “Kim Dongyoung how fucking dare you.”

He smirks and feigns innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You narrow your eyes at him and give his wrist a light slap, “You know exactly what I’m talking about! I used that insult and you said it was dumb and now you’re using it!”

Doyoung slaps your wrist back, “A dumb insult for a dumb person eh?” your mouth is wide open. You’re astounded that he dares give you this attitude, so you do what any normal person does— you grab a handful of popcorn and drop it down his shirt.

This, of course, causes Doyoung to yell and a little girl to stand up from her seat, turn around and say, “Excuse me can you please be quiet?” Doyoung grabs at your hand, still hovering over his shirt and you both politely apologise. Johnny is cracking up, as expected, and Doyoung is boiling with anger. You can practically see the steam tumbling out of his ears and the scowl across his face is clear in the light from the screen.

“You’re helping me get it off!” still with your hand in his grasp he stands up, pulling you along with him, and some popcorn falling to the floor with a crackle.

“What the fuck am I meant to do?” you whisper but he pays you no attention and urges you to walk down the stairs. The audible crunch of the stray popcorn under your feet after every step makes you wince and Doyoung’s grip on your wrist remains tight. Reluctantly you follow him out of the theatre doors.

“You’re such a fucking child! Now I have popcorn stuck in my boxers, Y/N, my BOXERS!” he frantically pulls on his shirt, trying to rid himself of the small kernels.

“You seem more of a briefs guy to me...” you respond with a cheeky smile, attempting to keep the mood light-hearted.

“You’re going to pay for this!”

“Hey, I bought you McDonald's, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t give you a free pass to shove popcorn down my shirt! What is it with you, seriously!” his irritation only heightens with your responses, allowing for some harsh words to fall from his mouth.

“Do you have any common sense at all? We’re trying to watch a movie for god’s sake, and you’re just playing around like an immature child! Can you not be sensible for one fucking moment?” you furrow your eyebrows while listening to him berate you.

“Alright there, Mr Kim, maybe you wanna slow down for a second? Go clean yourself up and take a breath.” you try to be the sensible adult he doesn’t think you can be and hold back with further insults.

“Oh great, now I seem like the bad guy,” he says, giving up in trying to rid himself of the popcorn remains.

“Don’t worry, we know in this situation you’re the adult and I’m the child you get to lecture.” You cross your arms and squint at him, struggling to hold in your own irritation.

“Your passive-aggressiveness is really subtle you know!” you take a step closer and tilt your head with a sweet smile, “Well I learnt from the best!”.

His jaw tenses and your eyes quickly flit to it before returning to his, “Seriously, stop grinding your teeth— but you don’t need to take my advice! Who in their right mind would listen to an immature child, right?”

You try to walk past him to go back into the theatre but Doyoung lightly grasps your forearm. “I didn’t mean what I said...”

You turn to look back, faces only centimetres away but eyes filled with spite, “Yes, you did. In your eyes I’m nothing but an irritating child, but you’re right so it’s fine.” you yank your arm away and re-enter the theatre, returning to your seat.

“Everything okay?” Johnny asks.

“Yep. He just got really pissed.”

“Oh, because of the popcorn?” Johnny offers you a sympathetic smile.

“Because I’m apparently immature and dumb and can’t be sensible.” you scoff.

“I mean, you did chuck popcorn down his shirt...”

“And he’s slipped ice down the back of mine? It’s mutual. Or at least I thought it was.” you sigh, frustrated that the day had to turn sour so quickly for no good reason.

You and Johnny end the conversation there, even when Doyoung returns. The extent of any other conversations consisting of the occasional comment about the movie. The movie ends, and you take your time getting up, stretching your limbs and yawning.

“That was actually a decent movie.” Johnny expresses.

“Yeah, it was okay, but I feel like it was more plot twist than plot,” you joke, both boys chuckle and hum in agreement but you pay no attention to Doyoung.

“Let’s go get sushi?” Johnny suggests. You groan in response “I’m a broke bitch and I bought us all McDonald’s earlier! Only if you pay?” you give Johnny a sweet smile, but he responds with a look of pity, “Hoe, I’m broke too...”

After exchanging a knowing look for a few moments, you both turn to Doyoung with that same sweet smile, and he knows exactly what you want.

“Ugh fine, but there’s a cap on how much you can spend!” he groans and begins walking ahead while you and Johnny cheer together.

Johnny links his arms with yours as you follow Doyoung to the restaurant, the time filled with absentminded chatter.

“Alright fellas, I need to go to the toilet, don’t kill each other while I’m away!” both you and your frenemy roll your eyes and ignore him, continuing to eat your meals.

After about thirty seconds Doyoung breaks the silence, “I’m sorry about earlier.” and while you would love to snap back with something rude and witty, you swallow your anger and echo his short apology.

Johnny comes back and, although you still aren’t speaking, he can sense the tension has dissipated and is content with the progress. A few more jokes and beers later you all end up outside of the restaurant, Johnny insisting he’s fine even though he keeps mixing up his home address with a bar nearby and you send him home by taxi, opting for a train as you’re not sure your bank account could take another hit.

As you and Doyoung live relatively close you take the same train home and so are walking to the same train station.

“Uh, can we stop here for a second? I need to get some things.” he pauses outside of a convenience store and you give him a small nod. A few minutes later he remerges with a white carrier bag in his hands.

The pair of you continue walking, breathing in the cold air, and he pulls out an item from the carrier bag, grasping your hand and placing the item in your palm, before closing your fist and giving it a tight squeeze.

“Drink this tea before bed, it’ll make you sleepy, there’s no caffeine.” you chuckle quietly at his gesture and tuck it inside your backpack.

“Why did you get me this?”

“I didn’t want to wake up to your dumb messages calling me a poopyhead,” he complains of fake annoyance.

The corners of your lips turn up slightly and you utter a soft “Thank you,” but that’s all until you get to the train station and make your way onto the train.

The lights are bright compared to the dark sky presented behind the dusty window. A few people are scattered along the carriage, a man in formal wear, a few students, an older woman, and some young men.

A stop in you hear a whisper in your ear,

“Actually, I do wear briefs but they’re all in the wash so I had to resort to boxers,” at first it startles you, not expecting the warm breath, but you smile and turn to look at him. Doyoung tries to suppress a smile and look straight ahead but as you continue to stare at him, laughing quietly, he can’t help but let a few noises escape. He then quickly buries his face in his hands and you both melt into a pile of giggles.

“I can still feel the popcorn scratching my chest,” he says in-between snorts, “You deserved it, to be honest,” you counter,

“You always say I deserved it!”

“That’s because you do!”

Your loud laughter gains the attention of the few people in the carriage and you begin shushing each other, it doesn’t make it any better, but you continue regardless.

A few seconds later Doyoung grabs at your hand and pulls you up, “Our stop!” dragging you along and he runs off the train. It takes you a few seconds to realise what’s happening but you’re already off the train, hearing the beeping signifying the doors are closing only moments before you leapt out. Doyoung stops suddenly and you crash into his side, unprepared for it.

“Woah there!” you grab onto his arm for stability, “I can’t believe we almost missed our stop,”

Doyoung laughs and starts walking towards the exit, “See, I’m so reliable. Unlike someone...”

You roll your eyes, “I almost got smushed by those doors, less reliable more lucky!”

He looks at you with fake offence, a hand on his chest in a mock upset, “You’re just rude that's what you are.”

“You’re just rude, that's what you are.” you imitate him with a high pitched voice, and he narrows his eyes at you before shoving your hand off his arm and speeding his walking up.

“Nooo! Doyoung! Don’t be mad!” he continues to walk away silently, and you speed up to match his tempo. You get to the crossing where you go separate ways, he continues without you and so you get his attention the only way you can.

“WE’LL TAKE THE HIGHWAY TO HEAVEN AND I CAN’T WAIT TO LOVE YOU ALL ALONE—” he runs after you and slams his hands over your mouth to stop your screeching, taking a few steps backwards due to the force of colliding. He lowers his hand slightly to your shoulder and places his other hand on your back to stop you both from falling.

You hold onto his jacket and laugh, and his head hangs low in shame, “I can’t believe you I really can’t. You’re insane, you know that right?” you continue to giggle and just nod in response. He shakes his head, but you can see the corners of his lips turning up, “I should’ve left you on that train when I had the chance.”

“Nooo,” you whine, “You can’t leave ME! I’m your BEST FRIEND!” he gives you a dirty look and you shift your attention to the other students passing by in a group, “Guys! I’m his best friend!” they just chuckle, and one yells “That’s nice!”

You turn back to Doyoung, who is groaning and embarrassed, “You’re not my best friend! We’re enemies, remember?” he widens his eyes and shakes his head at you, “That’s not what you were saying last night...” you trail off. He narrows his eyes again, “Last night you called me a poopy head and I told you to go to sleep...”

“Didn’t say I was your enemy though!”

“Didn’t say you were my best friend though!” he offers you another dirty look and you pout in response.

“Hey, Kim Dongyoung, don’t be mean!”

“I’m not! I’m—”

“BABY YOU A BAD GIRL WATCH YOUR MOUTH—” he pulls at your jacket to try and drag you home, “Shut up you’re gonna wake everyone up!”

You let him drag you, reluctantly, “No I won’t, I’m not even that loud!”

“We’ll take the highway to heaven,” you finish with a sulk.

“I swear to god you’re such a child!” he groans.

“Yeah, but I’m your child.” you retort and he looks at you in confusion,

“I’m not your dad?” you wink in response, knowing full well you’re not making any sense, and he lets go of your jacket, shoving you away, the playful atmosphere quickly being replaced by a cold one. You finally feel the cool breeze of the wind and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Why do you always do this Doyoung?” you’ve both stopped on the side of the road.

“Do what?” he asks, his expression showing irritation.

“We’re having fun messing about and then you get all cold and icy. Just like at the cinema.” you finally spill what’s been on your mind for a while now.

“I don’t! You put popcorn down my shirt, of course I was gonna react like that— if anything you took it too far!”

“That’s just how we play around is it not? You’ve done plenty of similar things. I honestly thought we were friends who joke around that they hate each other, but I guess not. I guess you really do hate me and you’re just not able to tolerate my bullshit anymore.” he furrows his eyebrows and opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Goodbye, Doyoung.” you say before walking away, leaving him standing in the cold.

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years

Text

Nothing Alike: III

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, angst, language

Masterlist

Two weeks later he found her again, doing almost exactly what she had been doing when he founded her the first time, except this time she was drinking a man out of his money instead of knocking out his teeth. Just like the first time he had found her a crowd was gathered around the competitors, cheering and booing as she met the burly man shot for shot.

Geralt watched from the shadows until her competition fell to the floor and a thunderous din filled the bar. Despite the anger, they did nothing to stop her from collecting her money and disappearing to a shadowed booth, coincidentally the very booth he had already chosen.

She plopped down, kicking her feet up on the table as she counted the gold.

“Hello Geralt, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” she said, not bothering to look up.

“I told you not to leave.”

“And I told you, I don’t let people tell me what to do.” She swiped the gold into her pouch and looked up. “But in all seriousness, what are you doing here?”

“They’re going to come for you again.”

“Let them come, I’ve escaped before.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

“Don’t you,” she smirked.

“No,” he lied and she laughed, trailing a finger along his arm, bright eyes watching him intently.

“So that’s why you spend so much time inside brothels, because you’re not lonely. And why you pine over mages who demand to never see you again?” His grip tightened on her wrist but she didn’t even blink. “That’s right, after our little encounter I did some research, and my god are you lonely. From what I’ve heard you even have a little child surprise in the oven. What on earth are you going to do with a child surprise?”

“Make another Witcher to outmatch you?” he suggested and now it was her turn to change a grip. The hand that had been lazily tracing his arm dug into skin and beads of blood pooled around her nails.

“If you even think about bringing a child into this life, I will not hesitate to kill you.” The eyes that had been devoid of emotion since he had met her were suddenly ablaze with passion and anger. “I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and make you wish you had never met me.”

“What would you do to stop me?” he asked, playing her fears like a fiddle.

“Anything.”

“Will you come with me?” The emotion fizzled from her expression and he was met with numbness once more.

“I said anything, didn’t I?” He couldn’t believe it. She was agreeing to go with him to save a child she had never met.

“Why would you do that?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“It’s a big decision to make for someone to make, I just can’t see why you would make it for someone you have never and probably will never meet.”

“I would burn the world down to prevent children from being forced into this life.”

“But you enjoy it, you’re world is all one luxury, filled to the brim with sin and gold.”

“Now, but not then, not behind the walls of that dreaded school. It’s but a small prize for suffering. You should know all about that White Wolf.” He growled at the name and she gave him a cold smirk, but behind all that strength was a broken look. And despite that sadness he held her to her word.

“Pack your things,” he ordered, and she looked taken aback, as if she had forgotten her own proclamation, but he soon realized it was his statement that had been surprising.

“You must think I am much richer than I actually am.”

“You’re not?”

“What you see is what you get. That gold goes to much more important things.”

“Like what?”

“Like none of your business.” He grunted and stood, staring at his new companion. “So, where are we off to?” Where he wanted to go right now was the worst thing he could want, and yet his mouth seemed to move without his permission.

“Your room.” Now she really was shocked, but a sly grin appeared on her face and she took his hand. The stairs were long and rickety, long enough that he began to doubt his decision as they neared the door. With a grand flourish she threw open the door and led him inside.

The curtains were drawn, and the room was shrouded in darkness, only light from the open door provided any perspective of the room. When she shut it, it really was nothing but darkness. A candle flickered on the dresser and it highlighted the yellow eyes that were staring at him. “Now what? Your wish is my command,” she teased, and his nerves shook again. It was wrong, god, it was so wrong, but she wanted it just as much as he did, he knew by the looks she was sending him… and the way she was unbuttoning her shirt.

“Come here,” he ordered, sitting on the bed. She approached slowly, feet brushing against the floor. He grabbed her waist and yanked her forward. She straddled his waist, the smile on her lips not reaching her eyes. “Tell me little girl, what will you do for me?” he asked twirling his hands through her hair. The same angry passion flashed through her eyes at the pet name and he was almost able to breathe a sigh of relief, she was still there, and angry, and full of life.

“Anything you ask, my lord.” He felt his cock twitch at the sound of the name she had procured for him. He knew she was mocking him but that didn’t mean his body didn’t respond all the same. She smiled a girlish smile, a smile he was sure every other man who had dared to bed her had seen. It wasn’t at all comforting; in fact, it was frightening. She acted as if she was his plaything, as if she were nothing but pliable in his hands. He knew it was all lies.

“I want…”

“Yes, my lord?” Her lips were resting against his cheek now, and every breath sounded like a moan.

“I want you to stop acting,” he ordered, and she laughed, a real laugh this time.

“And what does that mean to you?”

“I know this isn’t you. You said you never let anyone tell you what to do, well prove it?” He was on his back before he had finished. She was still straddling him, but a sort of power had entered the room. She was wild and magnificent, a force of nature he had never encountered before.

With fiery passion she kissed him. Her tongue was like a serpent, full of lust and deceit. And the words she whispered as he tossed her shirt to the floor were in a language he didn’t understand, but he could feel their meaning, nonetheless.

It was against all instincts to lie with a beast, but he did so anyways. Her hands slid to his trousers and with tantalizing slowness she removed them, nails brushing bare skin as she did so. His pants were gone within a moment and then he was in her mouth. Her tongue was soft and warm against his member, well-practiced or at least instinctively good. Her eyes fluttered to his and he almost finished right then.

No one had ever looked at him while the worshipped him. Their eyes were always closed or staring at the task at hand, they had never dared to look at him. And yet, as she did so, he grew impossibly harder, his legs shaking with pleasure. And stranger still, it was the first time he had ever seen those yellow eyes and not felt a surge of discomfort. They were not a gift to her, and yet he could not imagine her without something so brilliant.

In a flurry, she pulled away and stripped off her own trousers before straddling him once more. She was more than a warm body as she sank onto his length, the moaning in unison. She was still staring at him, studying him. She didn’t move at first, barely rolling her hips in order to fully embrace him. And then, like a crash of thunder she thrust forward, fucking herself on his shaft.

It was truly a wondrous sight to behold.

Her hands tangled in her hair as she searched for something to cling to as she cried out in pleasure. Her tits bouncing with each thrust. The scent of her sex and liquor filled his senses, intoxicating him within moments. He wanted to grab her hips and slam her against him, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull her from her trance. She was a god among men, sent to torment and tempt men such as himself. He wished he could resist her but he was sure no one could, not when something so free was captivating herself within his sights. It was no wonder she had survived the tests.

“My lord,” she moaned, a sense of humor even through ecstasy.

“What? What is it?” he barely managed to ask, but she only moaned in response. Her hands fell from her hair to his chest and he grabbed her hips, both to steady her and to pull her down his shaft. She let out another groan, biting his shoulder as she struggled to contain herself. Her nails raked down his arms, joining the numerous other scars she had given him since their first interaction.

She came with a scream, and he joined her, thrusting his hips, helping her ride through the high. He came shortly after, and soon they were both laying on the bed exhausted. Their heavy breathing filled the room, followed shortly by her laughter.

“Have I successfully filled the void, my lord?” she asked and he gently shoved her off him, offering a small laugh of his own.

“Only partially.”

“Oh dear, I guess I might have to try again tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes I believe you might need to.”

Tags: @stuckupstucky @aurora-sweet @holyhumorliteraturelight @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire

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nooneactuallyasked · 3 years

Text

Diner Gal - Reggie x Reader Part 12

Requested: Nope

Word count: 2,661

Warnings: Not that I know of.

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms ( + Flynn ) go to a musical diner/café/restaurant for inspiration and hopefully a future gig but they end up meeting a very special waitress.

Note: So writer's block on the last chapter/part of your story sucks a whole bunch but we finally did it! I finally finished this – we don’t need to talk about how many months it’s been, sh! THIS IS THE FINAL PART!!!

A few songs in this chapter – I’d recommend listening to them as you read:

Jump in the Line/ Dead Mom Reprise – Beetlejuice the Musical

Obvious – Dear Evan Hansen

ENJOY!

---

Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here Part 4 here Part 5 here

Part 6 here Part 6.5 here Part 7 here Part 8 here Part 9 here

Part 10 here Part 11 here

---

After a few hours of frantically drawing and writing up the final setlist, plans, room arrangements and digging through Cal’s office to find the list of reserved tables, Y/N was finally ready to call her job done. And now to jump right back into ghostly matters, which started with finding Julie and Willie and hoping they had some sort of plan figured out.

“Hey hey, look who’s finally back from the other side!” Flynn’s exclamation was met with winces from the boys and a wry smile from Y/N, “It sure was an adventure, Cal really should organise that office. How’s decorating going?” Flynn sighed in response, “It would be a lot better if some people actually helped out instead of talking to thin air.” She sent a mock glare to Julie who sent an eye roll straight back, “Kinda dealing with bigger and more important things right now, but sure I’ll blow up a balloon right after.”

“So, how has the whole possession thing been going? Any solid way to get Cal back?” Y/N asked, anxiety crawling up the sides of her stomach. Willie looked around at the group, all of whom were fidgeting and avoiding his gaze, sighing he turned back to her, “There is a way, but there’s no guarantee it will work.” Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to continue, “You have to establish a connection first then everything after that is up to Cal and his willpower. This situation is a little different to the one these guys got themselves into, and I’ve also never seen this before so this is the best I can come up with.”

She scrunched up her brow, how on earth did you make a connection with a possessed person? And so she asked exactly that, “Do something that means something to both of you; you’re in the music business, are there any songs that you two would sing together? Something like that. Apart from making the connection, there’s not much else you can do. I’m sorry.” Willie responded, Alex rubbed his arm comfortingly, “This isn’t your fault, it’s no one's fault but Calebs.” Y/N nodded in agreement, “Exactly, you’ve been so incredibly helpful, you all have,” She looked around the group, yes that includes Flynn, and smiled, “Thanks a bunch, you guys.” Her smile quickly transformed into a smug grin, “Luckily, I know exactly which song to use.”

---

A few hours passed and Le Paradis du Chanteur was ready to go, all of the evening’s acts were either out front or preparing in the back. She had seen Julie and the guys a few times in her rushed panic to get a song ready and change the setlist last minute, everything was completely ready and fine, of course, but it didn’t stop Y/N from worrying.

All that was left was to let the guests in, find Cal and make sure the first act was ready (not in that order). She huffed as she hunted down the first act, she supposed they weren’t actually that bad – in fact she could tolerate their outfits somewhat and their music was good. The members were a little annoying but good at what they did so who was she to judge.

Their clothing was easy to spot – they do look like a pack of highlighters (as their nickname would suggest) so it took Y/N no longer than 3 minutes to find them and less than 5 to check in and see that they were practically ready to go on the spot.

Now to find Cal, a challenge she was ready to face head-on, probably. It took Y/N quite a bit longer to find him but, after asking around and getting her co-worker to point her in the right direction, she found him sitting in the kitchen, blank as ever. Y/N sighed and pulled him into the main area, hoping he would at least interact with the guests if they spoke to him.

She hoped that this evening wouldn’t turn into a disaster but who knew at this point – she walked to the entrance and put on her best smile, and went to let everyone in.

---

A couple of acts had already gone and she was up next on the newly improved setlist – here goes the performance of a lifetime.

Y/N breathed out, stepping towards the mic, “Hello, everyone! I hope you’re enjoying your evening so far, we have only a few acts left to go! Before we continue, I’d just like to sing a little something in honour of our amazing manager, Cal!” A series of applause and a few whistles followed her words, Y/N relaxed, if anything went wrong at least she could say she tried. “As I’m sure some of our regulars know, Cal has always been one to enjoy a good musical, you’d hope so with this line of work.” Another ripple of laughter and a few cheers, a grin spread across her face. “When I first joined this diner as a performer, I auditioned with the song I’m about to sing for you now, I like to think of it as our song. Not to mention the fact that for at least 2 weeks after I got the job I couldn’t stop singing it, I think every one of the staff here tonight, and those who aren’t, know the song word for word now, sorry about that. So, with no further ado, I give you my audition song.” Taking the mic out of its stand, Y/N stepped back, spotting Cal sitting in the back corner, face empty of anything, as the backing music started up.

Shake, shake, shake, Senora

Shake your body line

Shake, shake, shake, Senora

Shake it all the time

Y/N hopped off of the stage and skipped around tables, whenever she passed a staff member she dance with them for a second, before they would both move on, quickly forming a line.

Work, work, work, Senora

Work your body line

Work, work, work, Senora

Work it all the time

The line quickly made its way back to the stage, everyone now singing to each other and dancing together. Y/N closed her eyes and quickly prayed that this was working. She skipped around the line, pointing at different staff members to sing the solo lines.

My girl's name is Senora

I tell you, friends, I adore her

And when she dances, oh brother

She’s a hurricane in all kinds of weather

She laughed as she went back to her place in the line, smiling at her co-workers beside her.

Jump in the line, rock your body in time

(Okay, I believe you)

Jump in the line, rock your body in time

(Okay, I believe you)

The line jumped slightly to the left every time they sang that line and then danced with the people around them, some workers went to tables and started dancing and singing with the talent scouts or any families or regulars that had booked a place that evening.

Shake, shake, shake, Senora

(Ahh)

Work, work, work, Senora

(Ahh- Woo!)

Y/N grabbed Sam’s hand and led them to the middle of the floor as she sang, turning to face them, trying to contain her giggles, as they did a mock opera performance.

Cal, I know you’re listenin'

Doesn’t this just blow your mind?

I was on a mission

This is what I left behind

She made her way over to Cal, hoping to see something behind his eyes. Y/N pulled him up by his hand and danced him over to the line of performers at the front.

I'll miss you every day

Seek a little strange and unusual

And you will find

The line, still acting as her incredibly enthusiastic backing vocals, started spreading out, a few stayed on the stage while others jumped off to dance and sing with the guests. Sam came over to Y/N and Cal and brought into a weird little circle dance as Noelle and Casey cackled from a nearby table.

Life beyond all comprehension

A mess in multiple dimensions

A little unconventional, I know

Y/N’s eyes widened in worry as Cal groaned in pain in front of her. She waved Casey over who quickly grabbed him and sat him down on a nearby, empty chair.

But, Cal, I am home

I'm home

As soon as she had finished singing, Y/N rushed over to Cal. “You okay?” He grunted in return, “Been better, but then again I could probably be a lot worse.” Her breath hitched as he squeezed his eyes tight and groaned again. His breathing quickened slightly before he let out a big breath and a purple light appeared on his neck. Y/N pulled his collar down to get a better look at it but as quickly as it came it faded away again. “You doing good, Callerina?” He rolled his eyes, “I will be when you stop with those nicknames…and when Sam stops dancing like that.”

She laughed, tears pricking at her eyes, as Cal snorted at Sam’s ridiculous dancing, they were completely embarrassing Noelle as they forced her to waltz around the room. “I thought they said they were a professional dancer when I hired them. Oh well.” He turned to face Y/N, the twinkle back in his eyes, “I thought my return would be more dramatic, I’ll be honest. But this is alright too.” Y/N rubbed at her eyes as she scoffed at him, “Of course, only you would say this wasn’t dramatic enough.” Cal shrugged, “Well when you reach old age, like me, you’ll learn that even bending down takes a lot of effort, might as well make it worth the trouble.” Y/N rolled her eyes, “Cal, you’re 31. You’re not that old.” He sniffed in response, “I watched you grow into the ghostbuster that you’ve become, didn’t I? I think that’s old enough.” She scoffed, though a fond smile played on the edges of her lips, “Well, since you ruined our nice moment I might as well get back to orders and making sure all of our acts are okay.” Cal’s eyes widened at that, “I forgot, I’m so sorry you had to do that all alone, I’ll let you steal anything you want from the diner kitchen after this as a sorry and thank you gift.” She grinned, “As if I wasn’t gonna do that already.”

Y/N walked away, giggling to herself as she heard Cal squawk in indignation behind her. This was totally worth it, she had her family back and a new family as well.

---

It was now the end of the night, lots of people were ordering the last things to eat or drink or finishing up what they already had before they left. All performers were out on the floor, taking orders, entertaining young children or talking to talent scouts if they had the time. It was the noisiest it had been all evening, even with all the bands and music, performance and dancing that had occurred.

Julie awkwardly stood on stage, fiddling with the mic stand. “Excuse me? Hi. Um, so I know this is kinda weird and short notice but one of our band members has a message for a special someone so we hope you enjoy.” She steps back from the mic and moves over to the keyboard towards the front corner of the performance area, Reggie practically vibrated behind the mic whilst the other two musketeers glared at him to chill out before he caused the mic to screech.

The audience had quietened down and now sat in expectant silence, Y/N continued serving, though the short notice act did seem to capture most of her attention (albeit confused stares but her attention nonetheless). Reggie took a few deep breaths, readying himself to poof and basically confess his newfound feelings to a living girl who captured his undead heart, wanting what you can’t have really had been taken to that level, huh.

Julie’s fingers danced across the keyboard as Reggie poofed in and strummed along on the acoustic guitar Julie had pried from Luke’s cold, dead hands, he had wanted to keep the song simple, strip it down to its purest form, mirroring his feelings. That and the fact that he had done this last minute and dragged everyone around him into it, so showing off and using flashy techniques was something they just didn’t have the time to add in.

When we know something is true

Beyond question or doubt

There's no particular point

In pointing it out

Reggie strums his guitar, looking solely at either the guitar or the mic, trying to gather up his courage. He wrote this song for Y/N, why couldn’t he just look at her?

Blue is the colour of sky

'Cause mothers all worry

And old people die

A phone rings, a bee stings

It's something you don't need to hear

It's just clear

He looked back at Julie, finding her smiling at him encouragingly. He smiled back at her in return. He could do this!

Why go stating the obvious?

It's so painfully obvious

How could you miss

Something that's this plain to see?

When it's glaring and staring

Right at you

So obviously

He looked up to meet Y/N’s eyes, she had stopped moving around after handing out her last order, instead, she stood staring at him, completely awestruck. He almost chuckled, how could she stare at him like he hung the stars when she was brighter than the sun?

When you get bored you draw stars

On the cuffs of your jeans

You still fill out the quizzes you find

In those teen magazines

And you dance like nobody's there

Awkward and perfect

You don't even care

Something courageous, amazing, contagious

And kind

All combined

Y/N huffed out breathy laughs as she stared at him, the stupid, leather-covered, ghost boy. She knew she hadn’t fallen in love – she hadn’t fallen anywhere, she had walked into her feelings, completely aware and content. He made it easy, Y/N hoped she made it easy too.

Why go stating the obvious?

It's so painfully obvious

How could you miss

Something that's this plain to see?

When it's glaring and staring

Right at you

So obviously

Sam grabbed her by the hand and pulled her towards the stage until she was right in front of it – right in front of him, “Have fun with your Romeo, don’t forget about us when you’re off on dates.” They cackled as they ran away, narrowly avoiding Y/N’s punches.

Sometimes the words

We tend to withhold

But they're exactly the words

Someone needs to be told

But oh, thinking they know

We never say "I love you

I love you

I love you"

Y/N smiled up at him as he beckoned her onto the stage. She never thought when she took up this part of the job that she’d end up meeting a bunch of ghosts and their human companion + friend, have her manager be possessed and garner feelings for the golden retriever incarnate.

'Cause why go

Stating the obvious

It's so painfully obvious

How could you miss

Something that's this plain to see?

When it's glaring, and staring right at you

So obviously

As the song quieted down, Julie shared looks with Alex and Luke pretended like he wasn’t tearing up at the sight of the pair on stage. Sam and Noelle smiled at each other and Casey rolled her eyes, she truly was surrounded by idiots that she had somehow adopted, not that she regretted it necessarily but she would never admit it.

“Hey, Y/N,” Reggie stepped away from the mic, “I’m not in love with you or anything, but I think I could be if you’d be okay with that?” The girl in question chuckled, “I think I could love you too, eventually. But how about we get to know each other for longer than a week first, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Diner Gal.”

---

Taglist:

@dotishyperfixating @daddydraco0 @morganayenneferburnham

@dxestars @dcnerd98 @ultraworthlessbitch

@revolutionary-werewolf-ghosts @underc0vercryptid

@underc0vercryptid-reads @miisacore

@cas-loves-pizza @slytherhoes

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 37 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Things looked up for Violet as she finally settled into the new normal of working in design.

This Chapter: One of New York’s most illustrious editors-in-chief turns 40--in style.

***

Shit.

It had been an absolute hell week, Courtney being run ragged all day, everyday. She’d missed more meals than not, barely slept, had gotten used to only using the bathroom when Fame was occupied.

It was really the first time that she and Miss Fame had to interact directly for more than a few words, and if Courtney thought she was high-maintenance before, she had no idea how weird it would get.

On Tuesday, Courtney had been torn a new one for ringing the doorbell when she had dropped off a package at Fame’s house, Fame looking at her like she was absolute vermin.

How was Courtney supposed to have known that it was a deathsin not to just let herself into her boss’ house, Fame explaining to her like she was a retarded toddler that she valued her family life and private time too much to be interrupted, not at all catching the irony of the fact that she was imposing on Courtney’s private time by forcing her to come to her house at 10 pm.

And now, a casual text from Adore that she’d be there around 7:30 reminded her about Bianca’s party and she was absolutely panicking. She had less than an hour to make herself presentable with literally nothing to wear.

She’d meant to ask Ivy about a dress, days ago, and then again yesterday when she was arranging the delivery of Miss Fame’s present to the Marie Claire offices, but it had slipped her mind amongst all the other things she had to remember.

She jumped up and raced into Raja’s suite, a cramp in her side, relieved to find the redhead still at her desk.

“Courtney? Are you okay?” Ivy rose from her seat, a concerned look on her face, ever the empath.

“I just...I forgot…” Courtney tried to catch her breath.

“Okay, take a breath. Whatever it is, it’s fixable. I promise.”

Courtney gulped. “I forgot that I’m supposed to go to this party tonight at the Guggenheim and it’s super fancy and my ride will be here in 40 minutes and I don’t have anything to wear and I don’t even know what the dress code means and I was just wondering if I could borrow something and I promise I’ll have it cleaned and returned by Monday but-”

“Courtney, breathe. Okay?” Ivy took her hand, inhaling deeply and then blowing out dramatically.

Had this job really killed so many of her brain cells that she needed assistance breathing now? Regardless, Courtney followed Ivy’s lead, taking a few deep breaths to slow her racing heart.

“Now,” Ivy began. “What does the dress code say?”

“Creative black tie?”

“Ah. Okay. Follow me.”

Courtney nearly cried with gratitude as Ivy led her into the wardrobe closet.

“Luckily, you’re a sample size, so this shouldn’t be too much of a challenge,” Ivy said. “It’s Bianca Del Rio’s party, right?”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, watching her paw expertly through the racks.

“Are you going for anything in particular?”

“I guess I wanna look…” Courtney racked her brain, unsure of what to say, when the word, “older” slipped from her lips.

Ivy paused, clearly not expecting that answer, and gave Courtney a curious look before nodding.

“I can work with that. Now, Bianca likes bold colors and dramatic silhouettes with clean lines, so I think something like this…” Ivy pulled a stunning, beaded blue cocktail dress out off the rack. “This will look good on you.”

Ivy was truly a gift from god. Not only did they find a dress that fit perfectly (they settled on a short, fire-engine red silk number with a plunging neckline), along with shoes, accessories, and a glamorous faux-fur wrap, but she even stayed to help Courtney with her hair and makeup, giving her a chic updo and dramatic winged liner.

“Ivy, honestly, if you ever need anything. Someone to cover your desk...a kidney...whatever...you know who to ask.”

“Good to know.” Ivy laughed, checking her makeup one more time, adding a little more glimmering highlighter to her cheekbones, and then proclaiming, “Alright, I think you’re done.”

“Thank you so much,” Courtney said again, pulling out her phone. She hadn’t heard from Adore in awhile, and wondered if she was stuck in traffic or something. She seriously hoped that she hadn’t rushed like crazy, inconveniencing Ivy and nearly giving herself an ulcer worrying, just to sit around waiting for an hour.

COURTNEY: ETA?

ADORE: Soon, I think. I’m on my way to Pearl’s, then we’ll pick you up. Do you want a gyro?

COURTNEY: I’M A VEGAN

ADORE: Oh yeah. Gross. I’ll text you when we’re close.

***

“Bianca! Darling!” Fame reached out her arms to pull Bianca in for a tight embrace. “Happy Birthday!”

She and Patrick had just arrived at the stunning event space a few minutes earlier, and were immediately whisked off to a VIP area with a private bar, where Raja and Raven were already relaxing on sofas, Sutan and Violet standing at the bar chatting with Detox and Jujubee.

It was perfect, removed enough from the chaos of the dance floor, but with a perfect view over the railing. And the speed with which Bianca had arrived to greet her told her that she’s given special instructions for the staff to alert her to Fame’s presence--exactly the kind of preferential treatment that Fame expected.

“Thanks, blondie,” Bianca grinned, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Fame smiled widely, fluttering her lashes. “So do you. I love this dress!”

“Yeah, your tits look great!” Raja chimed in.

Bianca was wearing a sinfully tight black bandage dress, the neckline showing off her breasts and glowing skin, the hem just above her knees, her legs one of Bianca’s best assets.

“You can barely see that you’re turning 40.” Fame grinned, which earned her a pinch from Bianca, the other still keeping her in her arms.

“Shush.”

“Please,” Fame squeezed Bianca’s forearm, “So, tell me the truth, do you like the ring?”

Bianca held up her hand, where it glittered on her index finger.

Yesterday, Fame had had Bianca’s birthday present delivered to her office at the exact time of her birth, 3:57 pm. Fame knew Bianca liked her statement pieces, so she had custom ordered a cocktail ring, but not just any cocktail ring. Instead of the usual single band, a stone in the middle, Fame had gone for a three part twist in gold, sparkling garnets adorning it.

“It’s perfect, I love it,” Bianca said.

“Wonderful!” Fame clasped her hands together. “You’re impossible to shop for.”

“No I’m not! I love stuff,” Bianca countered. “Plus, you know...I’ll never say no to a present that’s unavailable in stores…”

She grinned wickedly, dimples deep, hand drifting down to Fame’s ass. Fame swatted it away with a scolding look.

“Really, Bianca.”

“What, it’s my birthday!” Bianca said. “You gotta give me something.”

“Fine, a tiny something,” Fame laughed, leaning in and giving her a sweet kiss on the lips, then following up with a light smack to her cheek.

“That’s not where I like being spanked,” Bianca said.

“Oh my god, you’re impossible!” Fame exclaimed, breaking away and stepping over to the bar while Bianca laughed gleefully behind her. “Now come on, tell me about your presents.”

***

“And a drink for the lady.” Sutan smiled as he handed Violet a glass, his date taking it with a sweet smile and a thank you, Sutan putting his arm back around her waist as they walked around.

He had picked Violet up at her apartment, his heart almost skipping a beat as she had pushed the double doors open and walked down the steps, her dress of the night absolutely stunning, the back open and taunting with it’s promise of bare impossibly soft skin.

“So,” Sutan rubbed his thumb up and down, gently caressing Violet’s back, “are you having fun?”

Sutan was happy that she was there, enjoyed spending time with her, but as he got to know her more and more, he slowly realized how little she actually enjoyed big crowds.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Sutan bit his lip, hiding a smile at Violet’s quick but short reply.

***

Alaska giggled delightedly, letting Jinkx twirl her on the dance floor. If you’d told Alaska a few years ago that she’d have a friend who she could have this much fun with sober, she’d have laughed in your face. But, even though Jinkx didn’t mind it, Alaska really didn’t enjoy drinking around her. So when they were together, Alaska felt like it was the least she could do to hold off on the booze. What she did enjoy was being with her, sober or not, looking into her sparkling brown eyes as they tripped all over their feet.

“For a Broadway star, you’re really uncoordinated,” Alaska laughed, and Jinkx pretended to be offended, then giggled.

“It’s hard to be mad when you call me a Broadway star.”

“Well, you are!” Alaska said, wrapping her arms around Jinkx’s neck and gazing at her happily. She loved these moments, just the two of them having the time of their lives, dancing and laughing and ignoring every other person in the room. They always had fun, but tonight, Jinkx seemed to have an extra bounce in her step, radiating a kind of joy, and it made Alaska feel so grateful to be around her.

“Thanks Lasky...you’re the best.”

They whirled and stumbled around the dance floor some more, until they were both breathless and needed a break.

“What are we feeling like tonight? Ginger ale? Cranberry and soda?” Alaska asked.

“You choose,” Jinkx said, clinging to her arm.

Alaska ordered a couple of drinks for them and then turned back to Jinkx, who was looking at her with the cutest little dreamy half-smile. She couldn’t help the tingling rush that went down her spine as she lowered her eyes and asked, “So...what’s going on with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?” Jinkx asked, eyes widening innocently.

“I mean...you’re just very...I don’t know...” A smile tugged at Alaska’s lips. “...twinkly tonight.”

“Well...I wasn’t gonna say anything because...it’s kind of silly, but,” she lowered her voice, eyes shining. “I ran into her again. Ivy.”

Alaska felt her whole chest deflate, forcing a smile as Jinkx continued.

“At Zabar’s! It’s like the universe is just conspiring to help us get together, you know?” Jinkx giggled happily.

A lump rose in Alaska’s throat and she nodded, using all her willpower to keep the smile painted across her face. “Oh, wow. That’s...that’s cool. Did you talk?”

“Yes. You’d be so proud of me, I even got her number!”

“Wow. Awesome!” Alaska felt like she was going to throw up, shifting her gaze to the bartender, grateful for the distraction as he slid two ginger ales across the bar. She couldn’t help wishing that half the glass was Jack Daniels. She handed one of them to Jinkx and took her own. It tasted just dust.

“Yeah, but she was still a bit formal, you know? I think I need to see her in a more relaxed setting. Do you think she likes opera? Maybe I can ask her to Madame Butterfly?” Jinkx chattered, away, oblivious to Alaska’s shift in mood.

“You really think the Met is a relaxed setting?”

Jinkx threw back her head and laughed, squeezing Alaska’s arm. “Omigod, you’re right. I’m such a dingbat. What would I do without you, Lasky?”

“I don’t know…” Alaska stirred her drink.

“What do you think she likes?”

“Uh, I’m really not sure,” Alaska said. And it was true. She knew that Ivy was sweet, and professional, and did her job with a kind of calm efficiency. But she didn’t know her very well on a personal level, their professional paths rarely crossing directly.

“Hmm, maybe you can ask around? If that wouldn’t be too weird?” Jinkx looked so hopeful and earnest that Alaska couldn’t help but smile for real in spite of herself, immediately agreeing to help her on this quest to capture Ivy’s heart.

“Of course. I’ll ask around.”

Jinkx sighed happily, leaning on Alaska’s shoulder, eyes falling closed for a moment. “You really are my favorite person, Lask.”

“Back atcha, Jinxky.”

***

Adore walked into Bianca’s party, feeling like a million bucks. Everyone that was anyone and even some who were nothing were there, and Adore knew she looked better than all of them with her purple hair, her pouty red lips, her short black leather dress, fishnets, and best of all… Pearl, the sexiest fucking goddess she’d ever seen in her life at her side.

She hung on Pearl’s arm, enjoying the jealous looks she got; knowing that everyone at the party wanted to be in her place. She even got a nasty look from some models, who were clearly all in love with her girl, but Adore didn’t care.

Pearl was here with her and only her. Pearl glanced at her every few seconds with a smug grin on her face, like the cat that just ate the canary. Well, if the canary was Adore’s pussy. Which would mean the cat was… Well whatever, Adore wasn’t an English scholar. She was in love.

The only thing that sucked was that Courtney looked so fucking miserable. They’d been a little late picking her up, due to getting, well, sidetracked for a while at Pearl’s, and then stopping for food. She thought that Courtney would be a bit more understanding, but she’d barely spoken two words in the car, even Pearl picking up on her obvious anger.

And now, even though she was at the coolest party in Manhattan, she didn’t look happy at all. Adore caught her eye, offering a hopeful smile, but received only a resigned nod in return. She reached out to touch her hand.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” Adore asked, hoping that a compliment and a charming grin would be enough to lighten her mood.

“You think?” Courtney asked, adjusting one of her straps nervously. “I don’t look out of place?”

“Bitch, you put all these other girls to shame,” Adore promised, and was rewarded, finally, with a pleased smile from Courtney.

“Thanks.”

“Pearl!”

Adore looked over at the group of giggling socialites who were approaching them, only slightly annoyed when they swept her girlfriend up. She pouted as Pearl dropped her hand, but smiled again when she doubled back to whisper into her ear, “I’m gonna try and squeeze some gossip out of these hoes, and then I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay, but don’t be too long!” Adore pulled her in, branding her cheek with a dark red kiss before taking Courtney’s arm and sauntering away, pleased with herself. She scanned the party, looking for her sister and finally spotting her holding court near the bar. She cupped her hands over her mouth to shout through the crowd. “Bianca! Happy birthday, you ancient whore!”

Bianca turned towards her sister’s voice, barking out, “You’re late!”

“Whaddaya mean, we’re right on time for a grand entrance!” Adore countered, laughing.

“Well-” Bianca stopped, completely losing her train of thought when her eyes landed on Courtney. She was wearing a short red dress, the first time Bianca has seen her in a color other than pastels, and she looked absolutely fucking stunning--legs a mile long, one blonde curl falling into her eyes. Damn.

“You look cute, B. Very boobalicious,” Adore said, giving her a hug. “Not bad for an old lady.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Bianca said, eyes still locked on Courtney. “Hi, Courtney.”

“Hi. Happy birthday,” Courtney said, giving her a sweet smile. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Bianca told her. “But here, uh...this’ll help you catch up.”

She took a couple of the signature drinks from a passing tray and handed them over. Adore immediately began to suck hers down, but Courtney hesitated.

“Um, what’s in this?”

“Courtney’s afraid of tequila. It makes her messy, right bae?” Adore bumped her hip.

“Something like that.”

“It’s called a Madras. Vodka, orange juice and cranberry. No tequila, but it will fuck you up. Be warned,” Bianca said with a wink.

“Well...cheers,” Courtney said, giving an adorable little laugh.

“Cheers.” Bianca took a sip of her own drink, then leaned in closer. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Yeah?” Courtney’s eyes shone, her fingers twirling that stray lock of hair.

“Yeah.” Bianca tried unsuccessfully to wipe the stupid grin off her face, and instead broke the tension with, “I’m shocked that someone who’s friends with my sister has such good taste.”

“Hey!” Adore exclaimed.

“Don’t be too impressed. It’s a loaner,” Courtney replied drily, causing Bianca to throw back her head and laugh.

“Fair enough.” She downed the rest of her drink, waving off a couple of acquaintances who were trying to get her attention.

“Be right back,” Adore said, scampering away towards Pearl, of course jumping the second the blonde so much as crooked a little finger.

Courtney reached out for her, but she was already gone. She sighed slightly, looking a little bit dejected, and Bianca cleared her throat.

“So listen, I heard through the grapevine that you’re looking for a way to avoid your, uh, Galactica employers while you’re here?”

Courtney looked up, startled. She seemed shocked that Bianca was still talking to her, and she stammered uncomfortably. “Oh. Yeah, no, I just-”

“Listen, it’s understandable, you wanna have a good time. Can’t do that while your boss is breathing down your neck, right?” Bianca flashed her dimples.

“Well...yeah,” Courtney admitted, laughing a little.

Bianca stepped closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Fame and Raja are well contained, don’t worry. I made a VIP section since those two need a velvet rope to feel like they’re having a good time.”

Courtney giggled. “Like a rich person playpen?”

“It’s a prison of their own making,” Bianca affirmed, giving her a wink. “Trust me, they’re looking down on everyone the way they prefer, and they ain’t leaving.”

“Well...thank you.” Courtney bit her lip. It was hard to tell in this light, but it looked like a slight blush had crept into her cheeks, and Bianca found herself even more enamored.

“Anytime.”

A second later, she felt someone tap on her arm: one of the Marie-Claire board members, who she sadly couldn’t ignore.

“Sorry, I have go...do hostess shit,” Bianca said, regret flooding her chest, and Courtney nodded.

“Of course.”

She turned towards the middle-aged man and his young wife, saying her cursory hellos and giving air kisses, making small talk with them both. As soon as she could manage, though, she spared a glance back at Courtney.

The plan, from the moment Adore told her that Courtney was coming, had been to seduce this smoking hot friend of her sister’s. And she figured that the “rough break-up” that Adore’d reported would make it a sure thing. An easy and fun little fling--a birthday present to herself.

But now, something about the wistful, faraway expression on her delicate face as she smoothed down her skirt made her look vulnerable, in a way that gave Bianca pause. As stunning as she was--and fuck, she was an absolute knock-out--it didn’t make Bianca want to seduce her. Instead, it made her want to protect her. Ugh, why did her fucking conscience have rear its ugly head tonight, on her birthday of all nights?

“Thank you so much. Be sure to check out the raw bar!” she said, finally escaping and ready to head back to Courtney--but Adore beat her to it.

She watched as her sister came bounding up, Pearl in tow, and grabbed Courtney’s hands to pull her onto the dance floor.

Well, good. She should have a good time. Lord knows, anyone who worked for Fame deserved to blow off some steam. Bianca snatched another drink from a passing tray, trying to redirect her attention to the Welsh model who’d been giving her bedroom eyes all night.

***

Violet was having a surprisingly good time, taking small sips of her champagne. She had hurried home from work, almost ready when Sutan had texted that he was downstairs, the smile on Sutan’s face when he had seen her dress almost, almost, almost worth it’s price tag.

She had never been to an event of this size without having to worry if catering ran out of ice, or if she’d need to get taxis for whoever got way too drunk. It was nice to just stand by Sutan’s side, nice to be allowed to just be, without having to entertain or constantly think about everything that could go wrong.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Sutan smiled, his thumb rubbing up and down the small of Violet’s back. He was talking to one of the models from Elite, Violet vaguely recognizing her from some of the headshots she had presented to Fame for the fall collection. “I’ll be sure to tell Marcel about that.”

“Excuse me,” Violet turned, her eyes falling on a man with a camera, the card around his neck instantly telling her that he was from OK! magazine. “I was wondering if I could take a few pictures?”

“Oh,” Violet didn’t know what to do, her stomach instantly tightening.

“Sure,” Sutan grinned, turning towards the camera. “Right girls?”

“I-” Violet didn’t want to be in the picture, didn’t want someone she didn’t know documenting where she was, didn’t want to risk it ending up online. “I don’t-”

“Oh of course,” Sutan took her glass, handing it off to someone. “There we go.”

“Sutan”

“Come here,” Sutan put an arm around the model, posing both of them.

“Please-” Violet could feel Sutan’s hand on her hip, holding her tight, keeping her trapped, her throat closing up.

“Should we smile?”

“No,” The photographer looked out from behind his camera, “just be natural.”

Violet pushed away, forcing Sutan to let her go as the camera went off. She didn’t hear Sutan say her name, a quick flicker of a question on his face, didn’t see him smile apologetically to the photographer and pose with the model, didn’t notice any of it as she made her way outside, escaping the only thing she could think of.

***

Juju strolled through the crowd with Raven. She appreciated the whole VIP setup as much as anyone, but this was a massive party, and they’d decided to come spend a little time where the action was, maybe dance a bit -at least as much as her poor pregnant body would allow. They were stopped by a group of models, Raven proudly showing off her engagement ring and letting the other girls fawn all over her.

Juju put up with the schmoozing for a couple of minutes--after all, those girls were potential clients, until she spotted Bianca nearby and politely excused herself from the group, knowing that Raven would be perfectly content with her little fan club.

Bianca was chatting up some sweet young thing (typical), and Juju couldn’t resist messing with her a little. She wrapped her arms around Bianca’s waist from behind, asking in a low, husky voice, “Tell me I’m your favorite, Daddy.”

It was a joke between the two of them, something that had started years ago when Juju and Detox were first dating. They’d shown up at brunch one morning in the middle of a heated argument about whether it was appropriate for her to call him “Daddy” during sex--ironically, only a few months before she got preganant with their first child. It wasn’t a kink thing, exactly, it was just that she thought it was funny, and especially so when she saw his freaked out reaction. The group agreed that right or wrong, if it bothered him then she probably shouldn’t say it. But Bianca, ever the good sport, had pulled the smaller woman into her lap and declared that if she really needed to call someone Daddy, she was ‘willing to take one for the team.’

Juju accompanied her breathy greeting by biting gently on Bianca’s ear, adding, “Pwease?”

Bianca burst out laughing, pulling her close and introducing her to a very confused looking girl. “Tayce, you must know my friend Juju Sanderson. The brilliant hairstylist who owns Jujubee’s downtown?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s an honor!” Tayce said, her brown eyes lighting up as a dazzling smile spread across her face. “I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you, but you’re booked up for months!”

Juju had to bite back her laugh when she heard Tayce speak--Bianca always was a sucker for an accent.

“Well, play your luck with Daddy here, and you might jump the queue,” Juju said with a wink.

“Among other benefits,” Bianca cackled. “You know you’re the only one who I’d let get away with that Daddy shit, right?”

“Yes, thank you. You’re a lot more fun than my husband.”

“In so many ways,” Bianca said, turning to Tayce and giving her a playful smirk.

***

Violet took a deep breath, letting it out through her teeth as she could finally feel her heart slow down, though the knot in her stomach wasn’t going away.

She knew she couldn’t help it, but it was impossible not to feel an inkling of shame travel up her spine, the feeling that she was being ridiculous impossible to push down.

Sutan hadn’t meant anything by it, taking photos a part of his life, being in the public eye something that simply came natural for him.

Violet took a last breath, pushing away from the wall she had been leaning against to go back to the party, hoping that Sutan hadn’t noticed how strange she was acting.

It wasn’t that Violet liked acting this way, that she wanted to feel the panic rising in her body whenever she saw a camera in a stranger's hand, but she couldn’t help it.

She was an adult now, she had her own life, her own money and even her own job and her own apartment, but it was hard not to hide, impossible not to react to the instinctive fear that welled up in her at the risk of being found.

Violet walked back inside, the noise and the amount of people feeling so much more overwhelming when she wasn’t at Sutan’s side. She made her way through the crowd, easily spotting both Fame and Pearl, avoiding both of them.

She was starting to think Sutan had left, Raja nowhere to be found either, when she saw him sitting at a table, surrounded by models. He was laughing loudly, his arm around one of the girls, several of the models’ phones taking pictures of everything that was happening.

Violet’s stomach did a flip, the panic from earlier rushing through her body. She couldn’t go over there, couldn’t be a part of that part of Sutan’s world, so instead, Violet did what she always did.

Turned around, and walked away.

***

[Raja?] Sutan put a hand on Raja’s hip, turning her around. Sutan had been sitting with a group of models, doing shots and having fun right up until one of them had touched his legs under the table, and he had abandoned ship instantly.

[Have you seen Violet?]

He hadn’t seen her in over an hour, and while Sutan was more than sure that Violet could take care of herself, he had started to worry.

[Sutan!] Raja grinned, stepping into his space, looping her arms around his neck. [Hello brother dear.]

[Hello.] Sutan smiled, once again reminded of how much he truly loved Raja. She was tipsy, her eyes swimming slightly, which was probably why she hadn’t responded to his question. [Have you seen Violet?]

[Violet?] Raja tilted her head, her hand fiddling with the hairs at the nape of his neck. [No?]

[Shit.] Sutan bit his lip, his hands resting on Raja’s hips.

[Maybe she just left?] Raja smiled, running her fingers through his hair. [There’s no need to worry.]

[Maybe...]

[She can handle herself.]

[Mmmh.] Sutan knew that Raja was probably right, but it still felt weird that VIolet hadn’t said goodbye, and if he was honest, he was disappointed that they wouldn’t be going home together at the end of the night. [I’ll send her a text.]

Sutan was just about to reach into his pocket, was just about to get his phone out, when he saw a photographer to his left, just outside the VIP section. The paparazzi always loved to get photos of him and Raja together, and while he was sure Raja hadn’t noticed, he made sure to twist her slightly to the left, getting her good side as he smiled at the camera.

***

“Every guy here is drooling over you, bae,” Adore giggled, spinning Courtney on the dance floor before accepting another drink from Pearl.

“Not just the guys,” Pearl added with a wink.

Courtney laughed. In spite of her hesitation in tagging along, she’d been having a pretty good time. The attention was fun, of course, but Courtney’d barely noticed the alleged guys drooling over her. She couldn’t help thinking about the way she’d felt when Bianca put that arm around her, the way her brown eyes had sparkled in the dim light. The way goosebumps prickled her skin as Bianca’s fingers grazed her shoulder.

Her gaze kept being pulled in Bianca’s direction. Eyes drifting over her enticing curves in that tight dress. And occasionally, to her absolute thrill, Bianca would be looking back at her. Every time their eyes met, her stomach flipped around like crazy.

It was silly, she knew that. She knew that Bianca was only being nice to her because she was Adore’s friend. A nice kid. That it didn’t mean anything deep. This was, after all, a woman who dated supermodels and Oscar winners. Like the gorgeous girl by her side most of the evening, who had a face that Courtney instantly recognized from last month’s British Vogue cover.

Still.

The reality of the situation didn’t stop her from pretending, even just to herself, even just for the night, that maybe there was something there, that warranted all these confusing feelings swirling around inside her like a tornado.

And later, when they were saying goodbye, she allowed herself to enjoy the way Bianca’s palm pressed to the small of her back. She even let her lips linger for a few moments on Bianca’s warm cheek, kissing her goodnight.

***

SUTAN: Did you leave?

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: The party is still going.

SUTAN: Did you get home safe?

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: I can’t find you.

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: Violet??

VIOLET: I’m fine.

7 notes · View notes

gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

home boy loki needs his hair brushed asap

part 12 of loki’s happy ending, masterlist in bio!

ok now things can start moving between you two eheheheheheh

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

There’s a god in your shower.

No big deal. Just another normal day in the life of me.

What in god’s name possessed you to agree to this, you have no clue, but he’s been in there for almost an hour now and you’re just listening to your water bill shoot through the roof.

No. big. deal.

You’re about to go bang on the door and yell at him to finish up before he drains the ocean when the door swings open and he stomps past you.

Glowing.

You lower your fist and clear your throat, intent on ignoring yet another eyeful of bare godly torso.

“Took you long enough.”

“It’s been nearly a month,” he scowls, shooting you a glare. “I have a lot of hair to wash.”

“Cool.” You nod and awkwardly sit on the side of your bed, trying not to watch him finish drying himself off. “I got you some clean clothes. Just some sweats and a t-shirt, nothing fancy. Sorry.”

He casts you a sideways glance, tightening the towel around his waist. “Thank you.”

After nearly three hours of hiding in your office eating, Loki had gathered the courage—and the blatant shame—to reluctantly request to take a shower. You’d told him you wouldn’t stop him from using the communal showers in the tower, to which he had just raised an eyebrow at you in clear annoyance.

“Oh. Right, only Laing, not you,” you remembered. “You, um, can use mine.”

A slightly awkward car ride and a quick stop in the men’s section of the nearest department store brought you to now, holding out the grey sweats and t-shirt to the freshly washed god—the glowing god, you realise again when you get another good glance at that ridiculously well-defined torso.

He takes them without another word, stepping back with one hand holding the towel around his waist, staring at you in silence.

“Well?”

You blink. “Well what?”

“Shall I dance for you as I drop the towel? Or are you planning on turning around?”

So maybe the staring is obvious. But he’s...glowing.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, hurriedly swivelling around on the bed to turn your back on him. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

You hear him rustle around for a bit, wishing he could’ve just stayed in the bathroom to change, considering this is now twice that you’ve seen way more of him than a “workplace associate” should ever get to—have to.

I meant have to.

Your heart beats a tiny, tiny bit faster.

You panic.

“So you’re glowing,” you blurt, burying your face in your hands just in case he rounds the bed and gets a look at you.

He doesn’t need to start thinking he holds any power over you.

“No,” Loki quickly replies from behind you. “I’m not.”

“You totally were. I saw you, your whole torso was glowing.”

“Staring, were we?”

You grab a pillow and lob it somewhere over your head, hoping and praying that it hits him—the soft thunk and hissed “I’ll kill you” seem to say that it did.

“People don’t glow,” you huff into your hands, waiting for the go-ahead to look. “Is that just your natural glow? You wear like, permanent all-body highlighter?”

“I’m not glowing,” he says again, voice slightly muffled—must be putting the shirt on.

The dumb side of your brain heaves a sad, disappointed sigh at that fact, and you want to slap yourself.

Slow footsteps drag over to come to a stop in front of you, and you peek through your fingertips to find a thankfully clothed god standing before you—still glowing.

“Just look.”

You push him by the shoulders over to the mirror on your dresser, flinging a hand towards his reflection as he stares.

The gold shimmer to his pale skin is unmistakable.

“Glowing. I told you.”

“I don’t see it,” he smoothly replies.

His hand twitches against his thigh as he turns away from the mirror, and in the blink of an eye, the entire golden hue surrounding his figure is gone.

“You just made it go away.” You blink a couple times, taking a shocked step away from him. “It was there. I saw it, and you did something with your hand.”

“You’re delusional.” Loki gives you a thin smile.

“Do it again.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do—do it again,” you repeat, waving your hand at him as you look him up and down. “Show me again.”

There’s a strange lift to your voice, something he’s certain he’s never heard before, not from you, not from anyone on Asgard, not from anyone between the two.

Perhaps from his mother, perhaps centuries ago when he couldn’t quite reach the window sill she’d claimed as her’s and his, back when he’d managed to produce nothing more than a painful spark in the palm of his hand.

“Do that again.”

You’re...interested.

A lump catches in his throat.

“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

To appease you would be too indulgent. It’d be stupid, a mindless thrill for a few seconds that’d only begin another downward spiral of yearning.

Impressing a mortal isn’t exactly a feat to consider an accomplishment.

The spell was a stupid idea, he decides, it was too obvious, too drastic. The intensity of the concealment might be necessary, but he’ll have to make extra efforts if he wants to keep up the façade without those, uh...glittery side effects.

“Okay,” you slowly say with a frown, “never mind. Sorry I asked.”

The eye contact is scalding.

Something’s up. Loki’s silent, you’re uncomfortable, and those pants look pretty damn good on him.

Some butts are made for grey sweatpants.

Loki finally breaks, turning around and walking away from you without another word—yeah. Butts like that.

Did I mention you’re uncomfortable?

You loudly clear your throat as you stand, shoving every last thought about your fake boyfriend doctor god to the absolute furthest corner of your mind. Time for mature, professional interactions.

“Need a hairbrush?”

“What?” Loki whirls around at your voice, eyes wide. “Why would I need—”

“Easy, Loki,” you laugh, raising your hands in defence. “Just thought I’d offer.”

He goes silent for a moment, then slowly nods.

“Please.”

He takes it from you without so much as a glance.

Riiip. Riiip. Riiiiiiip.

You chance a quick look into the bathroom only to find Loki positively ripping through his hair with the frenzy of a madman, his hair a wet, matted, tangled mess of dark locks that you could’ve sworn wasn’t like that when he came out of the shower.

Or any other time you’ve seen him, for that matter.

“Loki,” you quickly call, slipping into the bathroom before he can lash out at you again. “Stop, you’ve gotta be gentle, stop—stop—”

He scowls when you grab the brush out of his hand, your other hand smacking him lightly on the arm. “I can do this myself,” he grits out, fingers finding the back of his head and rubbing there with a wince. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re hurting yourself.” You hold up the brush with a sheepish grin. “Can I, um, can I help?”

There’s a moment of hesititation—then deep contemplation, deciding whether he can live with the shame, you guess—followed by another curt nod.

“Sit on the edge of the bathtub, yeah?”

Surprisingly enough, he does as you say, and when the brush meets his scalp, he flinches.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Staring from the bottom up, you try to work your way around the knots upon knots of matted hair, tugging as gently as possible and trying with every ounce of yourself to not let your fingers brush against his neck.

Loki doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move hardly at all, despite your incessant tugging at his scalp. It’s far from a relaxing moment, and even further from—as some may consider it—a somewhat romantic one.

Even still, you desperately want to dispel any tension that might be starting to break through the surface.

“Your hair wasn’t all tangled when you got in the shower,” you point out, working the brush through a particularly troublesome knot near his neck. “You were using an illusion for that, too, right?”

Half-expecting him to deny it, his curt “I was” comes as a bit of a surprise.

“How come?”

“I’ve been stuck in prison,” he replies, but it’s offhanded, thrown out as an excuse.

You’ve half a mind to call him out on it, but you elect to just change the subject instead. “Have you given anymore thought to actually going to your therapy?”

“You mean go back to prison,” Loki corrects, fingers tightening on the edge of the bath. “Back in the hands of my brother and his little friends, their prodding and poking and watching me through a glass case like an animal—”

CRACK.

You both look down with a start.

“I...sorry. I’ll fix that.”

Somehow in that quick little almost-tangent, he’d gripped the bathtub edge so tightly that the porcelain cracked.

An excellent reminder of whose hair you’re brushing—and who you’ve now brought into your home, fed, and are pretending to date, all to appease a grand plan that has yet to be revealed to you.

You suddenly wish you’d brought your taser.

“We should be getting back to work soon,” you say as brightly as you can, putting extra effort into not tugging too hard on his hair as you hurry to finish. “Three-hour lunch breaks aren’t exactly advised.”

Why’d you do that for him, then?

He just nods, hands moving slightly as the edge of the tub crackles back together.

Only one more little bit of hair left to untangle, and your finger brushes just above the neck of his shirt, a jolt of near electricity zipping up your arm as Loki flinches violently, hissing a curse.

“Don’t touch me.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat—and really wishing for your taser—you hurriedly yank the brush the rest of the way through the tangled lock.

His hair moves with the sideways jerk of his head and you catch a glimpse of the pale skin at the base of his neck, normally covered by his hair and the neckline of his shirt.

...and your heart drops.

Bits of fresh red scar tissue peek out from the neckline, jagged incisions along the back of his neck and only suggesting an array of horror further beneath his shirt than you’d like to imagine.

“Loki,” you breathe, a finger catching in the neckline of his shirt to see the barely-formed scars chasing each other down his back.

He stands abruptly and snatches up your wrist, hair falling to cover the cuts and a demon in his eye screaming murder, then you’re back in your office.

“Glowing,” you blurt out before he’s reached the door, making him freeze with a hand on the knob. “That’s why you were glowing, y-you’re covering your—Loki, that’s not—you have to tell them—”

He’s back to Dr. Laing in the blink of an eye, shutting you up with a deadly glare you can see through the illusion.

“This was a mistake.”

Your hand searches the desk for your taser as you stare at him. “Okay then.”

“I liked you much better when you just played along,” he snaps, and your eyes narrow.

“I think you liked it better when I fed you,” you spit back, fingers wrapping around your taser—just in case. “And when I let you use my shower. And when I brushed your hair.”

“If you’re searching for gratitude, look elsewhere, mortal.”

“Really?” Your laugh turns cold, shaking your head at the fake doctor across from you. “I just saved your ass, and that’s how you’re gonna treat me? Okay.”

You pick up the desk phone.

Loki’s eyes narrow. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Reporting you. Again. For real this time.” You flash him a feigned smile and punch in the numbers. “And I’m telling them that you’re hiding crucial information regarding your employer for the little invasion stunt you pulled. They’re not gonna be too happy about that.”

“They owe me everything,” he hisses, taking a rapid step towards you, hand outstretched. “It was my suffering that brought this team of freaks together, it was my strategy that allowed them to become the heroes your world holds so dear.”

The phone is still ringing, and you put it on speaker. “But someone else was playing puppet master, weren’t they?”

“Hang up the phone,” he orders, snapping his fingers. “Stop this. You don’t know what you’d be starting.”

The phone keeps ringing and Loki’s eyes flit up to yours, wide and—huh.

Panicked.

That’s clear panic in his eyes, fear; Loki’s afraid of something.

“Please.”

Reluctantly, doubtfully, you put the phone back on the receiver.

“You better start talking,” you tell him, dropping back into your chair. “Where’d those cuts come from?”

Instead of answering, Laing-Loki just stares at you, those illusive eyes boring into your skull; you’re glad he’s not Loki right now.

Your grip tightens on the taser.

“Stop it.” It’s barely a growl through gritted teeth, barely intelligible.

His fingers touch down on the desk, a little lean to his body that makes you recoil, wishing you could curl into a little ball and escape the burning in his eyes, but you find yourself unable to break the gaze.

“I said stop,” he repeats, and this time it’s a warning.

“Stop what?”

“You’re pitying me.” The corner of his lip quirks upwards.

It’s not exactly a dashing smile.

“No, I’m not,” you counter with a frown. “Don’t flatter yourself, I care about a lot of people.”

“You’re full of it, aren’t you?” Loki laughs, shards of ice against your skin. “You and your caring heart, you want to fix me, rehabilitate me; I’m just another little project for you, hm?”

“Know what? Never mind. I don’t give a shit about you.” You pull yourself to your feet, plastering a smile on your face and pointing a finger at the door. “Now get out of my life. I’m done helping you, I’m done.”

“You and I,” he laughs, a finger gesturing between the two of you, “we’re breaking up. This is over. Robert Laing deserves better.”

Okay, this is all a joke. Sure, Loki, we can laugh about it.

Smacking his hands on the desk once more, he smiles and pushes himself off, spinning on his heel with a swish of his lab coat.

“Oh, and sympathy?” He turns when he reaches the doorway, halfway out and turning to throw one last grin your way. “Not a good colour on you.”

Up goes your middle finger—and he laughs once more.

The last glimpse of Dr. Laing—Loki—you get is him striding away from you, lab coat fluttering around him, little droplets of dark red starting to stain through the white fabric covering his back.

The illusions must be fading.

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

feel free to send me ideas!!

if you enjoyed…what if i linked my venmo…haha no i jest…no obligations….just in case….u don’t have to ha ha…….unless… ??

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

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#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #loki slowburn series #loki x reader fluff #pre-dating idiots #loki requests #lets get some tension up in here #loki fanfiction #loki drabbles #loki laufeyson #loki fluff

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starksnack · 5 years

Text

For @stony-week Day 1: Identity P*rn

Tied Together // Stony // 2.4k // AO3

Tony played with the red string tied into a tiny bow around his fourth finger, a precursor to the wedding ring that would sit there someday if all went according to fate’s grand plan. Everyone got a little red thread that only they could see, a cord that tied them to their soulmate across space, time, and the ephemeral fabric of the vast universe.

He ran his thumb over his finger meeting skin where the thread was tied to him. The string would only disappear when Tony found his soulmate so, for now, it was a reminder of the happiness that was to come. When Tony was younger, he used to think it was silly. Afghanistan had changed that, the thread becoming something to live for.

With a deep sigh, Tony settled into his new penthouse. Stark Tower was now a beacon of clean energy. It was a major environmental success and Tony couldn’t help the pride he felt at being the first name in renewable, clean energy. He just wished he had someone to share it with.

That’s when the phone rang, Agent’s name flashing across the screen.

***

It was a crazy and hectic week, from learning thermonuclear astrophysics to battling Loki’s angst and his army of alien misfits all while keeping his identity a secret. He gritted his teeth as he touched down on the tower landing pad. Meeting Steve Rogers was both the highlight and the lowest point of this whole endeavor. It was great to finally meet the subject of his childhood wet dreams, but his delight was eclipsed by memories of his father who always compared him to the great and powerful Captain America. This didn’t even mention the fact that Rogers hated him. A recipe for big fucking yikes.

On the bright side, it hadn’t taken much convincing to get the Avengers to move into the tower. They had all been the for the giant wormhole that opened up above the city and apparently that had been enough to get them to each claim a floor in Stark Tower.

When things finally settled down, Tony got back into the workshop and stepped out of his suit. His heart stuttered to a halt in his chest. The string around his finger was gone. He stared at his left hand, willing his vision to shift the red thread back in place around his fourth finger but nothing changed. Somewhere in the last week, he had met his soulmate, and he hadn’t even noticed.

Tony sat down in his chair, hard, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. There was no use crying over spilled milk. He had been so focused on trading quips with Rogers and battling an emo demigod that he had missed the most important moment of his life.

He shook his head, rattling his marbled back into place. He needed to get a grip before Dum-E hit him with a rolled up tabloid and beeped at him to pull himself together. He was Tony Stark. If he could build the Iron Man suit in a cave with a box of scraps, he could find his soulmate.

“Jarvis, you up?” anxiety colored his words and he kissed his teeth as his desktop booted up. The Stark Industries logo flashed across the glass and Tony’s fingers beat an impatient rhythm across the metal casing of the arc reactor.

“Always,” Jarvis responded, the holograms throwing blue light across Tony’s features. The glow wrapped Tony in a bright cocoon and he relaxed. It would be okay, Jarvis would help. “How can I be of assistance?”

“I need a record of everyone I met this last week and whether or not they have registered soulmates. I’m looking for anyone whose thread disappeared. Scan social media postings and soulmate announcement feeds.” Tony splayed his hands out, looking through the generated lists to see if there was a face he recognized. Someone with whom he had made eye contact and formed a bond. So far, no dice. He frowned, “Sort by the likelihood of being my soulmate.”

Jarvis pulled up the feed from the armor running facial recognition while pulling up a guest list from the event in Germany and a roster of all the Shield agents on the Helicarrier this past week. With the hundreds of names crossing his screen, Tony felt his eyes glaze over, hopelessness pulling at the back of his skull and swelling into a headache.

A knock on his workshop door drew him out of his thoughts and he turned to find Rogers standing on the other side, shifting from foot to foot. He was dressed in civvies, a dreadful looking button-down tucked into khakis.

Tony waved him in, turning back to his project. A small list was forming and it looked fairly promising. It was still a lot of names to sort through.

Rogers cleared his throat pointedly. “Can I speak to Iron Man?”

Tony frowned casting a glance at the suit in the corner. There was no way he could play off someone being asleep in there. “He just left for the day but I can take a message.”

“He left?” Rogers raised his brows incredulously, “I thought all the Avengers were staying in the tower. What if there’s an emergency and we need air support?”

“I gave him the suitcase armor to take with him while I repair this one. There’s no need to get your panties in a twist.” Tony rolled his eyes, turning back to his screen, He nearly let out a frustrated groan when he found the list had doubled in size. Significantly less promising. He needed time to think without the big blond distraction hovering behind him. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“No thanks, I’ll just talk to Iron Man when he comes back.” Tony nodded, expecting him to turn around and leave. Instead, Rogers just followed with another pointed throat clearing and Tony resisted the urge to throw the nearest tool, a socket wrench it appeared, at his head. He whirled around in his seat and bit out an irritated, “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize for what I said on the helicarrier,” Rogers twisted his fingers in front of him, mouth screwed up in distaste. “It wasn’t right of me, I really appreciate you letting us into your home, and giving us Iron Man.”

Tony nodded, “I didn’t mean what I said either.” He turned back to his list, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he found hundreds of names filling up the screen. “I have a really important experiment running, can you excuse me?”

“Of course,” Tony didn’t need to turn around to know that Rogers was nodding earnestly at him. “The team is going to go out for pizza later, I would love it if you joined us.”

Tony thought about it a moment. If this whole list turned out to be a bust, comfort food would probably be his best bet so he could eat his sorrows away. Tony squeezed his eyes shut, willing the list to get smaller. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

***

Tony never did figure out who his soulmate was. He did get a laugh at some of the names on the list though. Taylor Swift and Elon Musk were apparently candidates, though Tony dismissed those quickly. The biggest laugh was Rogers though, Jarvis thought he was most likely to be Tony’s soulmate but that was pretty much impossible considering Rogers didn’t really like him. Sure, he included Tony in all their group outings and they were friendly, but seeing how Rogers interacted with Iron Man, the ease in their partnership on the battlefield and the relaxed line of his shoulders when they spoke, something he never did with Tony, proved that Rogers didn’t think of him as soulmate material.

One whole year had come and gone and Tony still couldn’t look at the fourth finger of his left hand with anything but longing. Somewhere, someone else was suffering the same despair of an unknown bond and there was nothing that upset Tony more.

And then Rogers had to go and ask Iron Man out.

They were just finishing up a joint training exercise, working seamlessly to take out the targets Tony had painstakingly created when Rogers approached, a broad grin on his face as he pushed his sweat-soaked bangs off his forehead. “Heya Shellhead.”

“Hey Winghead,” Tony responded fiddling with a loose plate on the armor. This one needed a tune-up anyway, he might as well just design a new suit. “Good training session.”

“Yeah,” Rogers replied, shifting from foot to foot in a way that Tony knew meant he was nervous. “I worked up quite the appetite and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go and grab a bite, just the two of us?” Rogers trailed off, eyes trained on his red leather boots.

“Uhm,” Tony frowned. “I’m not really feeling like a smoothie right now,” he pointed to the faceplate to indicate that he couldn’t really put food in his mouth. “So, that’s going to have to be a no.”

“Oh,” Rogers nodded dumbly, the beginnings of a frown pulling his brows together. “I’m sorry, maybe I was just reading into things.” Rogers scrubbed at the back of his neck with his hand, a blush spreading furiously across his cheeks. “I really like you and I was wondering if you liked me back.”

Tony’s heart hurt because of course Rogers had to go and fall in love with Iron Man when he hated Tony.

“I really don’t think that’s the best idea,” Tony responded, standing up in one fluid motion and forcing Rogers to take a step back. “There’s the whole issue of my secret identity and the Avengers and don’t we have a policy against fraternization-”

“Iron Man,” Rogers cut him off, stepping forward so that they’re face to face. “I don’t care who you are behind the mask, I love you.”

And then Steve’s hands were on either side of his face, pressing a kiss to the slit of the mask. His eyes were open, as though he could see through the glass of the faceplate, gaze heavy with desire. Tony could see every stroke of blue in his eyes, the perfect slash of green and the long flutter of his blond lashes when his eyes finally slid shut.

Steve pulled away, breathing heavily. “I think you’re my soulmate.”

Tony was out of the gym in under ten seconds.

***

When Steve showed up to the workshop the next day, looking totally miserable, Tony almost felt bad for him. And then annoyance overcame him when he remembered that somehow Steve had gotten it into his head that they were soulmates. Well, not them. Him and Iron Man. Tony didn’t know what was worse.

“Hey,” Steve mumbled. There was a giant wicker basket cradled in his arms, the smell of Tony’s favorite muffins, blueberry, wafting up from underneath a red napkin. “Can you give this to Iron Man.”

Tony resisted the urge to just accept the basket and cram the muffins into his mouth while watching reruns of the Bachelor. “He’s not going to be back for the while, the muffins will go bad, just drop them off at the homeless shelter on the corner.”

Steve’s lower lip wobbled and he looked a second away from crying before he nodded, backing out of Tony’s workshop and to the elevator.

Tony tried not to feel bad.

He felt bad anyway.

***

It was a fight that revealed Iron Man’s identity to the world.

Everything started out fine and dandy, some angsty teens had gotten ahold of some Chitauri tech and built robots that were wreaking havoc at a bowling alley downtown until it got out of hand and spilled out onto the street. Some civilians, a bowling team it seemed by the garish matching shirts, were chucking bowling balls at the robots. Tony learned the hard way that when the robots exploded, they spewed acid that kind of melted through metal. And then one exploded in his face.

His first instinct was to protect the reactor. He didn’t know how the metal casing would react to the acid and the last thing he needed was to go into cardiac arrest during the fight when the rest of the team didn’t even know that the same reactor that powered the suit also powered his heart. He didn’t even notice the faceplate had melted away until he felt the cool heat of the midday sun on his face.

Tony took out the rest of the robots with an extreme vengeance before dropping down by Clint to give him a lift to where the rest of the team was gathering in the street.

“Oh my god, Tony?” Steve’s jaw dropped and then he was cupping Tony’s face, eyes wide as his fingers ran over where the acid had singed his skin. Tony waited with bated breath for the insults, fully expecting to be kicked off the scene. He least expected Steve to pull him into a hug asking if he was alright.

“‘M fine,” Tony mumbled back, the words muffled in the kevlar of Steve’s suit. He pulled away turning to the other Avengers but none of them looked ready to tear into him. Instead, there were encouraging smiles all around.

Tony’s suit was still flight-capable, but he chose to ride back with the other Avengers, still shocked that no one was telling him he was unworthy to be Iron Man. He was sitting closer to the back of the quinjet, thinking about how he would handle being kicked off the team when Steve sat beside him.

“Hey so. I know we got off on the wrong foot,” Steve started a bashful smile s spreading across his face, “but I woke up in this new century wondering if I would ever find my soulmate and the night we met in Germany, my string faded away.”

“Oh,” Tony said intelligently, the pieces falling into place in his mind. Maybe Jarvis was right and they were actually soulmates. Who would have thought?

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, a rich beautiful sound falling from his lips. “Anyway, now that there isn’t a faceplate in the way, I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner? The two of us, on a date?”

Tony finally allowed himself to think that maybe, the team was okay with him being Iron Man and Steve was possibly his soulmate. He grinned up at Steve, brown eyes lit up.

“I would love that.”

#steve rogers #tony stark #stony #stevetony #marvel #starksnack writes

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theheartofpenelope · 5 years

Text

Simple Things : Chapter Six

Chapter six- excerpt : Tom sympathised. He listened and gently asked on about certain things but only when he felt she might be all right with it. He was there, ready to chase out the bad words and replace them with bittersweet nostalgic memories.

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Author’s Notes/Warnings: tags will follow later on Anyway thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think…

Also on AO3 through this link Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter six One week later London versus Berlin - Hamburg

1. London

The coffeeshop was buzzing with the usuals sounds of a lucrative business. Customers were happily chatting away, sounds of cutlery clinking against the porcelain chimed through the establishment while the coffee grinders worked at full steam. The waiting staff efficiently served all patrons with their trademark smile and hospitable air.

In the corner by the window Tom sat at a small wooden table, stirring his spoon in his fresh cup of coffee before glancing over towards Emma. He’d treated his younger sister to a cup of coffee and sweets as a thank you for her assistance with his shopping for a very specific gift earlier on. Passing by one of his favourite coffee places in this neck of the woods, it seemed only natural he’d buy her a ‘thank you’-cuppa.

Tom questioningly looked over towards his younger sister yet again while she thoughtfully kept paging through the brochure.

“You’ve made the right choice,” Emma finally murmured with a nod, “definitely. Perfect even.”

“Hmmm, you think?” Tom fiddled with the pages, slowly pulling the booklet back towards him and with a pensive frown, flipped through it again.

“My god,” the petite ginger pestered, “and this is just a little nicnac. What are you going to do when the poor child is actually born?”

“Oh, hardy har har,” he shot back, eyes still glued to the page, “I just want to do this right.”

“How very uncharacteristic of you,” Emma snorted before turning her attention to one of the coffeeshop’s newspapers, idly turning its pages and looking for anything and nothing in particular.

“They already have 2 little ones,” Tom sighed, “I want to make sure that its godfather is getting the little monster something they don’t already have. And yet something that’s meaningful...”

But it was clear the message was lost on his sibling who was now curiously looking at a specific article in the paper. A grin spread across her face, he could tell she was up to no good when she looked up at him with that mischievous sparkle he’d come to dread over the years. What now?

“Hey, isn’t that the ComiCon–lawyer-person?” she pointed out.

“Word gets out fast,” Tom muttered under his breath before sipping his coffee again. He reached his hand out and motioned his sister to hand him the newspaper. He was ever so eager to correct his sister on the reality of ‘this Charlotte-thing’ until his eyes fell on the cruel nickname in bold black print next to a snapshot of her. ‘Angel of Death’.

Tom was utterly appalled and furrowed his brows as his eyes skimmed the article. “Well this is harsh,” he mumbled. To him Charlotte - without fault - came across as a charming and eloquent persona, not the grim reaper the press were now suddenly labelling her.

His heart went out to Charlotte. It really did. She seemed to have crawled under his skin somehow; this warm hearted woman who had been ever so daunting towards the press from the start. He’d gotten to know her as an ambitious woman, who longed for nothing more than to set the record straight about who she was and what she stood for. It seemed so unfair for her, of all people, to get mulled the way she was.

“It’ll all blow over by tomorrow, I’m sure,” his sister relativized while trying to steal her brother’s scone.

“Still,…” under a lifted brow he playfully slapped her hand away while fishing out his smartphone. He typed out a message to Charlotte in which he expressed his concern, much to his sister’s delight. Emma tilted her head in an attempt to peer at the text, murmuring “it’s sweet though, that you care so much.”

When Tom - ever fast on his feet - quickly reciprocated with a “I would do the same for any other friend,” Emma couldn’t help but nod with a final gentle tease, “and how long ago did you two meet again?”

Tom slanted his head and raised an eyebrow apprehensively, “don’t…”

Emma held up her hands as if to convey him of her innocence, “I’m not. I’ve missed my big brother - indulge me in my teasing…”

He only shook his head in utter annoyance, “it is nothing more than a concerned friendly message. That is it. Be careful there or shall I start on your love life now?” a small grin lit up his face. “And besides, haven’t you read? I’m apparently seeing a mystery blonde now…”

“Well yes,” Emma caught on after taking another sip from her coffee, “I wàs wondering about that…”

“Can’t show my bloody face before they start snapping away and publishing rubbish,” Tom shook his head in disbelief before his sister looked up at him, positively beaming and no doubt fired up with one or two monkey tricks. And indeed, with a strange sense of pride she lifted the newspaper in her hands, revealing a pap-shot of Tom strolling down the street and cosily laughing with said lovely petite blonde, “rubbish big brother?”

“Ok, all right, all right,” Tom chuckled while turning a deep shade of pink, “I admit she’s a very lovely colleague. Good heavens, look at you - trying to get Luke out of a job little sister?”

“Just what I thought,” Emma delightedly winked, “so? Dating?”

“We’re working together,” Tom mildly protested, “it would seem highly inappropriate to…”

“M-hm,” Emma sighed loudly, as if to highlight she’d already heard that routine before.

Tom rolled his eyes in playful annoyance, which lured Emma into raising her brow before inquisitively leaning in and whispering, “now really. Tell me,”

“I don't know,...” he hesitated, “she's lovely, she truly is. But… ”

“Something is missing,” now it was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes in exasperation while shaking her head. When would he ever learn?

“Don't mock me,” he scolded softly.

“I'm not! I'm just wondering when the day will come when something is not missing to your standards…” She didn't want to seem hurtful, it was simply the truth.

Emma had noticed her brother had taken more than one step back when it came to dating these last couple of years. While it had originally been a very conscious and logical decision of his, she now often heard her mother worrying about the impact this decision was taking on him. And on second thought she found she would have to agree with her mother, on a certain level.

But then came the Hiddleswift-extravaganza, the whirlwind romance that knocked the family right off their feet. So much, so fast, so soon. However, at least he was breaking his solitude and that was, in a way, a good thing. After it fizzled out equally abrupt as it had started in the first place - and under the ever critical and even speculative eye of the (gutter)press no less - it was no wonder to Emma that her brother would step back from dating again for a while.

At first she thought he just needed to lick his wounds - wouldn’t we all? - but then new projects started following each other up in a vast tempo. As always. And what was worse, his emotional private life seemed even more neglected then ever before. Her brother was exhausted and haunted by his own thoughts, And now Emma didn’t know what to think of the situation anymore. Though she thoroughly hoped his current break could or would bring back the more happy and carefree brother she grew up with.

Tom exhaled loudly, “well, you’ll be happy to know that we’re going out for drinks soon. After the project wraps up. Just … don’t tell anyone.”

“Good! Very good. Also, my lips are sealed,” she gestured, delighted at the notions her big brother was getting back out there again. “but just remember, the camera’s are not.” She added with a well meant playful wink.

2. Berlin

‘Angel of Death’ – the term haunted her more than Charlotte cared to admit. The words stung, they stung so bad.

Charlotte blamed her initial emotional reaction to the article on fatigue, because the gruelling pace of travelling all over Europe was definitely starting to take its toll. Also, the intense debates that repeatedly occurred at every Conference were slowly starting to get under her skin as well…

However still, Charlotte’s strong beliefs were suddenly shaking on their foundation. And while she wanted to power on through, she found she could not handle the backlash that was now coming towards her. Charlotte was raised to be diplomatic, to find an agreeable way to interact with people, to negotiate, to debate, not to tear someone down without mercy. To have the press do exact that to her was difficult to comprehend and impossible to forget.

Charlotte’s dad had called her as soon as the article came out. He’d tried calming his daughter by advising her to not pay any attention to it. “Bad press is press at the least. You’re doing something that matters, leave those nasty words behind, rise above it. Be strong, be proud and do not give up sweetheart.” But he failed to realise Charlotte was under heavy attack because of her personal situation more than her professional one.

You see, his wife and Charlotte’s mother was diagnosed with ‘young dementia’ and she was currently already residing in a memory care facility. That last step was a recent development after a new diagnosis confirmed she was in fact suffering from Lewy Body Dementia (*). Under the public eye, the written press very broadly analyzed and scrutinized Charlotte for simply "not practicing what she preached". They painted a very unstable and hypocritical image of her. “Euthanasia for those who suffer mentally but not your own mother? Come on now!” The press was relentless and paid no attention to the details that truly mattered, the same details that made every difference in the world.

Charlotte was amazed where the journalists had found all this background information, and was left utterly devastated at the harsh words at her address. More over Charlotte was exhausted and alone; craving the comfort of home, family and friends. She’d spilt hot tears under the shower that evening, it was the first time she’d allowed herself to shake her frustration and pain on the matter.

All day long attendees at the conference had either confronted her with the article and asked about her opinion, which was not the most pleasant experience, but others were worse and kept quiet in her face yet whispered about it behind her back. As if Charlotte didn’t know they were talking about her...

Her phone had been blowing up all day with a whole variety of messages and warm wishes from family, friends and even colleagues who knew there was more to Charlotte than what was so harshly put out in print. But Charlotte didn’t answer. She didn’t answer anyone of them, she was just done with it. And wished for the day to be finally over as well.

3. London - Berlin

The night was slowly creeping in and hours had passed since Tom had sent Charlotte a text but she hadn’t answered. He realised he would surely not be the only one texting her, but still… usually she would respond to him one way or another. It seemed out of character for her not to respond, but then again this was an unusual turn of events….

Her silence plagued him, and so ultimately Tom took it upon himself to text Charlotte once more later that evening. To his surprise, he was rewarded with a quick cynical reply. Something he had come to know as ‘Charlotte-style’. His lips curved upwards; she wasn’t asleep yet. And because her words didn’t really convince him, he tapped the call-button on his cell.

Very quickly his thoughts were confirmed; her text message might have been cynical and morbidly funny in contrast her voice sounded clearly distraught and cracked with exhaustion. He was quite sure she thought she was hiding it well.

“You should distance yourself. I’m your publicist’s worst nightmare,” Charlotte pestered quietly.

“I didn’t hear back from you,” he spoke softly, “I was worried.”

“My phone is blowing up right now.”

“How are you feeling?”

“It’s ok, I’m all right. Bad press is still press, that’s what they say right?”

Tom couldn’t shake the feeling she seemed so short, curt even, in her replies. She was speaking rationally, distanced from the situation, vehemently prohibiting any emotions in her discourse. So he asked, he simply hàd to; “and now the truth please, Charlotte?”

A loud sigh on the other end.

Charlotte hated he possessed the talent of gently luring the truth out of her. And so she confessed to be feeling exhausted and annoyed.

Or no, make that ‘angry’ and ‘sad’.

‘Disappointed.’

‘Emotional.’

And so incredibly alone.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her hand. She could feel the tears stinging again and tried her best to hold them in. Granted, it wasn’t as if he could see them, but she desperately wanted to spill no more tears over the whole debacle. She found she would have to be strong and suck it up. Surely that would the best and fastest way to get over it. Utter denial, step over the issue as if it were no more than a nasty, muddy puddle on the pavement.

So yes, she would hide her tears. However her voice turned a bit hushed and a bit high-pitched as she cautiously fumed things along the likes of How or where do they get this information? Why does this matter? This is my personal life… Doesn’t anyone remember what I stand for? At all?

Tom sighed and tried to console her by confessing he could, in fact, relate on the matter somewhat and offered her his support.

“Please, then tell me, how do you rise above this kind of nonsense?” Charlotte sounded exasperated, “because I’m not the type of person to let things like that get to me, far from it. But I see it in print here in Germany, it’s in papers back home and apparently in the UK as well. And I can handle criticism, don’t think I can’t. But this?! This is almost a personal attack. God, I feel so judged...”

“Do you have the article there?” Tom was astounded, “do you have it before you? On paper? And you’re reading it? For the umpteenth time no doubt...”

“y-yes?” Charlotte groaned uneasily.

“Take it,” he ordered sternly, “do you have it in your hands?”

“Yes, why?”

“Tear it apart Charlotte,” he ordered simply, “really. Trust me on this one. Just rip it up, and rip it up good so you cannot possibly put it back together again. Then toss it in the bin. And promise me you won’t go googling for it.

Charlotte chuckled at his rendition of rigorous fatherly advice.

“Really,” his voice softened, “promise me Charlotte. “You’re an intelligent woman and I admire you for what you stand for. Do not let anybody tell you anything different. Ever. And what they printed about your mum, I’m quite sure that it’s just gutter-talk. You don’t fool me darling. Don’t let them get to you, all right?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he paused and then reconsidered his words. “Would you tell me about her? Please?”

She felt his compassion cool her frustrations, his kindness covering her like a warm blanket. So Charlotte sighed, before carefully opening up about her mother's young dementia.

“It was just silly things at first, like forgetting where you put your keys. Then her vision worsened and she left the driving over to dad or my brother and me, which we didn't mind because we just got our driver's licence,” she chuckled at the long forgotten memory, “but then she stopped writing at one point... stopped having fun at it. She got all gloomy at times, isolated herself more at times.”

Charlotte paused, for a while, “she went for long walks by herself. Only later on we found out they were only ‘long’ because she suffered with finding her way back…”

Tom sympathised. He listened and gently asked on about certain things but only when he felt she might be all right with it. He was there, ready to chase out the bad words and replace them with bittersweet nostalgic memories.

“And I know she is good where she is now,” Charlotte concluded, “and she has her lucid moments. And she wants to live. So much. And that is her good right and we have to respect that. I just… I just don’t appreciate I'm being called a hypocrite because I'm refusing to take to euthanasia in my personal situation.”

“Don’t they get it?” Charlotte all but exploded, “it is not my decision to make. It is hers and she chose not to consent to that when she was lucid. Don’t they see how hard this is on everyone involved? It’s a lose-lose-situation and… oh crap … what's it to them anyway?”

On the other end Tom sank back in his seat as the reality of her situation sank in. “Oh Charlotte,” he spoke softly, his voice low and quiet, “I - I can't imagine how hard this must be.”

That. That one sentence right there. It came out as a whisper - a truthful confession. Charlotte could feel the tears stinging in her eyes and did her best to wish them away. No more, please no more tears.

“Thank you,” he added softly, “for confiding in me.” “When did you last see her?”

That did it. Charlotte hiccuped, her eyes welling up before new salty tears fell from her eyes, trickling down her cheek without relent.

“I'm sorry, Tom,” she breathed, “I'm just - I’ just so tired. The days are so long and exhausting...”

A feeling of complete powerlessness fell over him. There was nothing he could do but listen and talk. He hated he was not there to offer a handkerchief, to run his hand over her back in reassuring circles, to hug her or offer her a small smile in the hopes it would diminish her tears.

“Darling, don't apologise. It's been a while since you've seen her I take it... “

Charlotte nodded silently, not even aware he wasn't there to see it.

“Oh Charlotte,” he sighed, felling ever the more guilty, “I should let you sleep... can you sleep?”

She admitted she'd been tossing and turning for a while now. Her mind absolutely in turmoil. "But I'm glad you called," she confessed, while wiping her tears with the back of her hand, “so glad.” Because he knew what he was talking about, and he somehow had managed to calm her down somewhat.

"How could I not...."

Charlotte took a shaky breath and sighed - his heart broke for her.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I caved,” he gently switched the subject, “you know Elena Ferrante isn’t all that bad…”

Charlotte smiled, aware of what he was doing.

“Shall I read you a little bit?” He never waited for an answer, but just flipped open the book and commenced. He could hear her rustling on the other end and imagined her curling up underneath the duvet, the cell phone glued to her ear still.

“My friendship with Lila began the day we decided to go up the dark stairs that led, step after step, flight after flight, to the door of Don Achille’s apartment. I remember the violet light of the courtyard, the smells of a warm spring evening. The mothers were making dinner, it was time to go home, but we delayed, challenging each other, without ever saying a word, testing our courage. ….”

He read the rest of the chapter as though he was reading just for himself, taking his time and engulfing himself in the story. By the end of the chapter the sounds on the other end of the line had gotten very quiet.

“Charlotte?” he queried, “Charlotte darling,” quieter now, “are you asleep?”

He paused for a second to concentrate on the noises on the other side of the connection. Very vaguely he heard her steady breath; yes, she was most definitely asleep. A sense of pride and sweet affection came over him; a smile crept across his lips as he listened a little while longer.

“Good night my darling Charlotte, sweet dreams.”

And with that, he hung up.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #simple-things

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your-write-or-die-blog · 5 years

Quote

It had been a while since my last casting call. Looking around me now at the que of girls wearing 90’s style windbreakers, crisp new vans, and highlight on the tips of their noses, I felt as though I had been thrust into a world of Instagram models and I’d received an invite on accident. The open call was massive, for a pop band music video coming out in the summer. The line of girls snaked halfway around the Hollywood studio lot, adjacent one set comprised of six or seven fake houses that looked vaguely like something I’d seen on television. I squinted at them for a moment and racked my brains. Dexter, maybe? The girl in line behind me caught my eye and craned her neck in the same direction, eager energy exuding from her. I turned a little bit to smile at her, but couldn’t tell if she’d noticed behind her dark aviators. Maybe she was as nervous as I was. Maybe she was just so flat out gorgeous and cool that she didn’t think I was worth her acknowledgement. I knew from past experience how ruthless Hollywood was. Even though this was my fifth casting call this month, and even though I’d been working to put some weight off and had even gotten up early to do my hair, I began to feel more and more unprepared and out of place in my plain black jeans, doc martens and casual spaghetti strap top. I realized I hadn’t even taken time to read the email from the casting company. Convinced I wasn’t going to make any friends in line, I pulled it up on my smartphone. My stomach sank a bit. The company was looking for a “love interest” role, and warned that actors should be prepared for the audition to include “physical touch” and other possible “romantic gestures”. The coffee on my breath became brutally apparent and I considered ditching the audition entirely. How and why did I not stop to read the stupid email before driving here and freaking out over the lack of parking for almost an hour? My mind began to race. What if the lead singer was gross? “Romance” wasn’t exactly my forte either – I had never gone out for a “love interest” role. This is why I needed an agent. After a few deep breaths, I found a stick of gum in the bottom of my purse along with my resolve. I was already here and I needed the money, I thought. Waiting tables at the Mel’s on Sunset simply wasn’t cutting it, and if this band was as big as this massive turn out led me to believe, I knew it would mean a nice chunk of cash if I somehow landed the part. Plus, music was a huge part of my life – I’d been writing songs on piano since I was 12. To help make someone’s music come to life on screen would be an absolute pleasure of mine… I just hoped their music was good. The sun began to set and the temperature dropped a bit, a refreshing and welcomed change that seemed to help calm my nerves. To help pass the time I put on my headphones and cranked up my favorite 80’s music: Depeche Mode, Oingo Boingo and Fleetwood Mac. Before too long I found my way to the front of the line. The clipboard lady gestured for me to pause as she held her ear to a mess of static through her walkie. She eyed me and my plain face and smiled patiently, then sighed and shook her head. “I’ve got no clue what he just said,” she admitted. “You’re adorable honey, you’re gonna do great,” she said as she checked my ID’s. She looked like she’d been on her feet for hours now, but the sentiment seemed genuine and I smiled back appreciatively. She handed me a ticket. “You’re number 412,” she said, “don’t lose that ticket.” My stomach sank again. 412, I thought. There’s no way I’m getting this part. The next clipboard-person was a tall gay man, head bald as a bowling ball. He singled me out as I walked by and asked if I had my portfolio. I handed it over and he flipped through it, looked at me somewhat indifferently and then directed me to a room off to the left. My palms were sweating. What if I didn’t fit the part and this was the end? The situation became more and more real. I jumped when he began instructing us, not realizing that he had followed along behind me. “Okay, ladies, watch your step - NICE shoes, file in loves, careful now” he said in a thick British accent, ushering myself and a few other girls into a dark, cool room. The entrance to this stage had a little sitting area – I found a seat and stuck my hands between my legs, praying that they dry before something important started happening. I looked up – the ceiling was very high like a warehouse, the lights along it stark and expensive-looking. To break the silence I leaned over to the girl on my left, who had waist length blonde hair that looked incredible with her yellow corduroy miniskirt: “With the lights and stuff, it’s sort of like Costco in here, isn’t it?” She looked back at me confused and I decided I wasn’t going to speak anymore. The first part of the audition was more of a group interview – the bald clipboard guy picked me out with three other girls and I felt a surge of relief. I’d experienced auditions like this before – it was a great way for casting to get through more people more quickly. This casting team in particular thankfully seemed a lot friendlier than most I’d encountered, casual even. They only asked us our names and to tell them about ourselves – the blonde girl laid it on thick, charisma oozing out of every hand motion and inflection. The second girl seemed almost disinterested, explaining that she went to school in the area and that her friend had told her to come. Finally, they got around to me. A kind-eyed but important looking woman dressed in linen asked what had inspired me to audition. “I love music and I love to create,” I answered easily. She straightened a little bit and asked me to talk a little more about that. I suddenly felt very honest. "Music is such an important part of my life...and of society, it allows us to communicate what could otherwise be lost in a boring old conversation. People talk too much, I think..." I trailed off and became very aware that everyone's eyes were fixed on me now. I felt like I had somehow answered... correctly? She nodded agreeably and motioned for me to go on. "Well I like to write my own songs and I perform open mics sometimes when I'm feeling brave," I continued, "It's hard for me to bear my soul like that...working with someone who is brave for a living would be incredible." The woman looked up from her notes and leaned over the table, smiling ear to ear. "Anything else, darling?" This audition was suddenly much different than any I had gone to before. My ears were burning. I untucked my curls to cover them. "No," I laughed. "I guess that's it." The three directors laughed along with me, which felt amazing. The woman in linens stood up suddenly and removed her glasses so that they hung down on her neck. "And," she started, raising her eyebrows, "what do you think of Matty Healy?" The atmosphere in the room shifted at the name. The director lady smirked knowingly as the girl next to me melted just a little bit into her boots. I realized they all knew something that I didn't. Before I could embarrass myself by asking who Matty Healy was, suddenly he was there. "Did I hear my name?" He was holding a cup of coffee without a lid, a large plastic clip holding his dark curls away from his face, which was scrunched up into a cheesy grin that sent butterflies rippling through my stomach. To complete the actor-on-set look he wore a gray sort of bathrobe over his wardrobe, charmingly mismatched with a beautiful pair of shiny black shoes. The girls on either side of me unabashedly began to squeal. The directors smiled patiently as he came over to greet us. I watched three girls fall in love with the same man at the same time. "We're taking five," he said in a beautiful accent, taking the blonde girl's hand and kissing it very lightly. "God, it's cold in here when you're not dancing about like a lunatic, innit?" he murmured to the group of us, explaining the bathrobe. He was so adorable that I couldn't help but hold the back of my hand over my mouth. He caught the motion and looked over at me now. "Hi," he said, nodding to me as our eyes met. His were warm even in the harsh warehouse lighting. He introduced himself: "I'm Matthew." Embarrassment froze me for a moment. Oh God, I thought. How long had he been standing around that corner? He had probably heard the whole audition. But those eyes were so reassuring. Despite not knowing his name a mere ten seconds ago, I felt immediately comfortable with him. "Hi," I replied quietly with a laugh, surprising myself by leaning in to politely hug him around the shoulders. Matty did not seem surprised as all; catching my arms for a moment and holding them there. He smelled like hair product and cigarettes. "Thank you," he hummed warmly near my neck so that only I could hear. "I needed that today." He sounded sincere. When he pulled away, I was grinning like an idiot. "Erm," he started, tearing his eyes from me. "This project is very important to me and I've very grateful to you all for coming out and being a part of it. We're having a bit of a party for the next part of the audition so I hope to see you girls there," he smiled again and waved sweetly to everyone, murmuring something quickly to the director before shuffling back around the corner. I continued desperately to try and calm the redness in my face as the rest of the models openly fan-girled to one another, glancing over at me with a mix of delight and envy. "Okay, ladies," the woman with the glasses chuckled, waiting for us to settle. "Like Matt said, this next part of the audition we're going to have a sort of mock-shoot just to test if you're compatible - " The bald man threw his hands up in exasperation. "Nora means we want to see some chemistry, duh." Nora rolled her eyes good-naturedly as we all turned to "ooh" at each other, "right, exactly, so there's going to be some dancing involved, we're going to play a little clip of music and we just want to see you interact with Matty and have a good time. As specified in the email if you're not comfortable with this we thank you for coming out anyway. Go ahead and have a seat in the waiting area and we'll come grab you when we're ready for you, there should be water and snacks in a couple minutes." Out of 412 girls auditioning, the waiting area only had a couple dozen. The vibe was different from before, the ice had been broken and all the models chatted excitedly, sipping water, munching grapes and crackers. Not all of them had been there to meet Matty, and they teemed up around me after hearing that we'd had a little moment. Thirty minutes went by and only one girl had been asked to the set. Nora popped in and my heart sank. An extra-cautious layer of professionalism coated her voice this time. "Hello ladies, just a reminder that we had a massive turn out today and unfortunately we can only consider a few of you. We really are grateful to you for showing up but Matty and the team are looking for someone pretty," she paused, "specific ... when it comes to this video in particular and we are doing our best today. Thanks again for your patience." She smiled dryly and dipped out, hateful eyes amounting on her back. I swallowed dryly. Another ten minutes went by and two models had already given up, packing up their things with heels clack-clacking through the stage door. The quintessential Hollywood phrase was "hurry up and wait", but forty minutes had never felt quite so long to me. Finally, Nora reappeared and pointed at me with that knowing smile. It was only then that I realized I'd been holding my breath - I sighed out in relief and hurriedly grabbed my jacket, ignoring the stares behind me. While it was small, the set was much less "mock" than I anticipated: full lights and camera surrounding a simple white backdrop where a crew member sat in behind the drum set. A few other crew members were buzzing about, setting marks with tape on the floor, discussing angles, scrutinizing their notes. Matty sat on a director's chair behind the mic stand without his bathrobe this time, legs crossed. Before I could catch his eye I had a round brush in my face. "Just a little shiny there," the makeup artist said to me, motioning my chin up to her. "God, you've got great skin... how old are you?" I stumbled over my words, still getting my bearings. She waved in a "never-mind" motion. "You're over 18 though, right?" I nodded carefully as she dabbed rouge along my cheekbones with her ring finger. "There... just so these lights don't wash you out too much." She smiled and gave the hair around my face a couple twists and a spray. "Beautiful. Good luck!" Someone clapped their hands a couple times to get everyone's attention. "Alright, welcome Miss..?" I squinted past the lights and called out my name to who I assumed was the video director. "Very nice, hi, yes," he sighed in the exasperated sort of way that directors do, "Okay! So - we're going to play some music and have you sort of perform with Matty here - dance, flirt, pull his hair, whatever you want, ok? Are you ready?" I nodded and a surge of confidence shot through me as Matty looked up with that smile, scooting the chair out of the shot and putting his hand on my shoulder as if we'd known each other for years. "I do hope you don't pull my hair," he joked, "it took an awful long time to fix." "I mean it's your video, Healy," I shrugged. My God, I thought. What a face. The audition had already started and I didn't even realize. The audio was much less professional, a boom box off to the side started playing a song that I immediately recognized from the radio and I realized that the man who had decided just now to dip me was probably worth millions. I recovered from the dip and followed his lead as he whipped the mic around and began sort of half-singing, half mouthing along to the lyrics. Although the mic was off, up this close I could tell that his voice was absolutely lovely. As he made his way behind the stand-in drummer he eyed me, still gauging. I took half a second to collect myself and followed the vibe of the song, deciding the sort of alt rock guitar riffs called for some hair shaking and punk-posing. He took my hand and spun me into him as he propped one shiny shoe up onto one of the toms. I slid my hands along his shoulders and came up behind him; making eyes at camera 3 as he sang directly to it. Before the verse was over, I decided i couldn't help myself: I tugged his curls lightly and he sang the remainder of the verse directly to my face before making some sort of explosion noise and racing around me to get back to the mic stand for the guitar solo. I was in awe of him. Once we made it back to the front I felt him switch to full-on performance mode, trusting that I could keep up with him now. And I could. Before long I realized we had gone through almost the entire song like this and the director looked significantly less bored than he did when I first walked in. The music stopped and the crew applauded us. Matty tucked me under his arm and whisked us away from the lights for a moment. I was still catching my breath, yet he had barely broke a sweat. "That was, you were -!" "That was so fun!" I finished for him. He laughed and my heart melted. "Really though, like -" He had the cutest way of tripping over his words. "Ugh," he gave up, hugging me instead. His face was so close to mine I felt his breath. "And I heard what you said earlier in the group about music and, and erm - that was you right?" I nodded and he lit up like a little kid for a second. Seeing him happy like this was well worth the impossible parking, the waiting and the hours of nerves. He went on: "So, right, listen - I think we're doing a couple quick little callbacks but, dude." Matty Healy had just called me dude. He fumbled in his trouser pockets for something and then motioned for me to wait, jogging over to behind the set. The crew members were all in a bunch now, reviewing the footage and speaking excitedly. When he returned he handed me a pen and a scrap of paper. "I've lost my - bleeding - phone again but please, would you write your number for me?"

to be continued

#writing #Hollywood #acting #story #fanfic #the1975 #matthealy #the 1975 #matt healy #mattyhealy #matty healy #matthealyfanfic #the1975fanfic #mattyhealyfanfic

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painted-cherries · 5 years

Text

when morning comes

pairing: na jaemin x reader

warnings: mention of alcohol and drugs but like... once

genre: fluff, college!au

prompt: something cute for once, about a cliche house party, jaemin’s pretty smile, and the moon.

a/n: i am so in love with this boy how could I not write a cute college au about him?

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There was something oddly peaceful about being alone at parties. Sure she had come with someone else, but her friend was long gone, lost to the loud music and seemingly endless alcohol. The house was huge, almost hauntingly so. The amount of people in the house seemed infinite; it was almost like every time a car pulled up, three to four people would be hiding inside, waiting for their turn to let go and forget about the awaiting responsibilities that would come back around the following Monday. The house belonged to one of the most popular boys on campus that she didn’t know. Mark Lee, where he and his roommates lived. His parties were infamous, and the door was always open to anyone and everyone, the only rule being that drugs weren’t allowed. Mark would lose it if his big house that his rich daddy bought him was filled with the stench of weed. She had roamed upstairs, bored with the party below her. The house was so big that no one needed to go upstairs and if they did it was to use the spare bedrooms; all the excitement was downstairs. This was the first of Mark Lee’s parties she had ever attended, her roommate begging that she needed to go at least one of the large parties at least once a year, if not twice. “Y/n you’ll never undertsand how extravagant they are just from my stories! Just come to one with me, and if you really hate it then you can stay here and study biology til your hearts content,” she had said. The parties were always random, supposedly because Mark liked to keep things interesting. People only knew when they were happening because someone would mention it to a few people and eventually it would spread like a wildfire.This particular one being thrown Sunday night... Who the hell throws a huge house party on a Sunday?

She glanced at all of the furnishings like she was in a museum. The walls were painted a very clean white, opposed of the dark theme of the first floor. Everything above was light and aesthetically beautiful, almost like Mark’s own personal heaven and hell. Everything upstairs was elegant despite being quite modern as well. She came upon one specific room that caught her attention; it was a large, second-story solarium, with French double doors that led inside to a room encased with glass, and completed with an array of beautiful flowers and other plants. Checking the time, her phone read 12:47 am. ‘Too early into the party to drag my roommates ass back to the apartment, she’ll never leave before 2,’ she thought to herself hopelessly, and decided to sit down on one of the chairs in the sun room.

“Well one thing is for sure, Mark has great taste in home interior,” she said to herself, staring up at the stars through the glass above her.

“It seems like he isn’t the only one with great taste,” said someone from the entrance to the room.

The girl sat up and looked towards the door way, and there stood the boy that sat in the far back of her literature class. She didn’t know his name, but she does recall his face, any girl on campus could. He was known as one of the campus flirts. Every time he walked by girls couldn’t help but swoon; for good reason as well, he had one of the prettiest, brightest smiles she had ever seen. He walked confidently around campus with his usual group of friends, aka Mark Lee, the owner of the very house she was currently in. And to be in Mark’s house is the equivalent of being in this boy’s house. He walked through the doorway and closer to the chairs you were occupying. The minimal moonlight shone through to illuminate his very handsome face. His hair was slighted faded into a light brown that was pushed neatly to the side, and his skin was clearer than her with a light honey tint-- ‘how does his skin just look like that?’ she thought. He was wearing a simple white hooded sweatshirt and jeans, but that didn’t take away from how attractive he is.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” he started. “I saw you walk upstairs alone, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He flashed you a smile, and even in this dim light she swore he could see her blush.

“Was that really why? Or did you come up to hit on me like all the other girls on campus?” she half-joked. She wouldn’t let him know, but a small part of her was jealous that all the other girls in their class had the experience of this very cute boy flirting with them.

He let out a small chuckle, and she couldn’t help but notice how attractive even his laugh was. It was deep and smooth like his voice, and she wouldn’t mind listening to him even after the sun comes up and the party disperses.

“Is being a gentleman so unheard of that I can’t check on a beautiful girl to make sure she’s okay?”

“Well there it is. The flirtatious attitude that leaves all the girls in our class oh so in love with the the famous...” she drifted off waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Ouch, for someone who seems to think she has me pinned to a tee she fails to know my name? I expected more from one of the smartest girls in our lit class, y/n,” he teased back. Y/N couldn’t help but let the comment make her a little bashful. He took a seat next to her and gave her yet another large smile.

“Na Jaemin, good to see I could leave the genius speechless.”

“Listen, I just happen to know a lot about Scott Fitzgerald, I’m no genius,” she explained.

“Hey don’t play yourself down like that, I like an intelligent girl; it’s attractive,” Jaemin said, biting his lip. She rolled her eyes as he continued on. “So what are you do here at one of Mark’s parties? I didn’t peg you as the type to like big disasters like these?”

“Disasters?” she laughed. “Isn’t this like, what your friend group is known for? Extravagant parties that are always on the brink of a cop call?”

“Sure my friends, but not me. I’m a social guy sure, but I like to keep to myself otherwise. These parties,” he nodded towards the doorway, “are all on Mark and Haechan. They love doing this kinda shit. Renjun and Jeno just make sure no one ruins the kitchen. Chenle doesn’t drink but likes to scream with all the wasted people. If you listen closely you can hear his laugh, sounds like a dolphin.” The two of them listened intently to the roar of noise from below, and sure enough she could hear what was supposedly Chenle, and let out a laugh herself.

“Wow so you guys have a whole teamwork thing when these happen, that’s not too bad,” she said amused. “My roommate comes to every party, and she said I need to get to know more people instead of biochemical equations.”

Jaemin leaned back and grinned. “Well y/n you’re doing a great job, sitting up here by yourself. Have you become acquainted with all the plants yet?” he said teasingly.

“Actually, I have, thanks for asking by the way,” she said in a mocking tone. “That plant right there is a Lily of the Nile,” while pointing to a dainty purple flower. She looked around and nodded towards a pot filled with bright orange flowers, bright even in the dark, moonlit room, “those are marigolds, and this beautiful red flower in front of us is a dahlia,” she said confidently. “Mark has great taste in flora.”

Jaemin looked at her as if she had hung the stars above them herself, grinning from ear to ear; maybe even wider if that was possible. Nothing could compare to this simple interaction between them. She didn’t notice the gleam in his eye, but she could feel the blush that painted her cheeks. Na Jaemin had always caught her eye. Despite sitting behind her, y/n always managed to catch her attention drifting to the back where he sat in class. She had already known his name before now too, how could she not? Jaemin had one of the most beautiful smiles she had ever laid eyes on, and his personality was just as wonderful. He wasn’t as opinionated as herself, but whenever he would share his thoughts, she couldn’t help but hold on to every word that rolled off his tongue. He was nothing less of intelligent, and perhaps sat in the back because he was a little introverted contrary to his image as a flirty socialite. She never entertained the idea of Jaemin being interested in herself, but when she learned that he shared a house with the notorious Mark Lee, she thought that maybe this was an opportunity to at least talk outside of Lit 213. ‘Maybe the stars being so bright tonight are a sign that they’re in my favor...’ she had thought earlier that evening.

“You really are brilliant aren’t you?” he said, looking at her.

Y/n’s focus was on the sky above them as she spoke, “I told you before I’m not anything special, I just love flowers y’know?”

“And I remember telling you before that you shouldn’t talk down about yourself. You should be more positive about your talents.”

“Well I wouldn’t call them talents-” Jaemin shot her a look and raised his eyebrow as if to say ‘didn’t you hear a word I said?’

“Okay, okay I get it I’ll stop.”

He smiled and glanced up at the stars above him. The two of them stayed like that for a few minutes, just enjoying each others company. Jaemin took a deep breath, and glanced over at her. Her eyes were focused on the glass above, but he couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked in the dim lighting. It hit her features just right to where her cheekbones seemed highlighted, and her face defined in a refined and feminine way. He could tell she didn’t wear much makeup, and her eye makeup was done ever so slightly, probably in preparation for the party tonight. She possessed simple beauty, that was for sure. And it’s probably what had drawn him to her the first day of their class together. She had walked in confidently with her backpack that was definitely too big for her slung over one shoulder, and hair messy from the autumn breeze outside. Jaemin didn’t want to admit that he grimaced when she mentioned his reputation as the campus flirt. It wasn’t intentional, he just enjoyed giving out compliments.He had never attempted to flirt with her because he had feared she would roll her eyes and assume it was just a game to him. The truth was Jaemin had let his crush on y/n develop for too long. He started timing his walk to class so that he could hold the door open for her. When ever she had something to say about a poem or reading that was assigned, he would involuntarily perk up and listen intently to every word that fell from her lips. He never thought it through, how to tell her about his feelings, let alone telling her at all. So when Jaemin saw her walk through the door way of the party, the last place he expected, he started to think that maybe someone above, beside himself, was rooting for his little crush on the cute brainy girl in his literature class. He turned his head to face her, still relaxing beside him, eyes searching for constellations and little galaxies of her own imagination. Jaemin glanced at his phone, the screen showcasing a large 1:19 AM. ‘Well,’ Jaemin thought. ‘If fate or mother nature or whoever is trying to tell me to make a move, then what better time than under the moon together, in her infinite wisdom?’ He shook his head at himself. ‘I’m that dumb romantic aren’t I?’

“Jaemin what?”

Jaemin winced at himself and his horrible tendency to talk out loud to himself. Y/n was looking over at him, brows knitted together, and even in this little moment of embarrassment he couldn’t help but think about how cute she looked. Jaemin wanted nothing more than to pull her close and tell her how beautiful she is, even compared to the bunches and arrangements of flora and fauna among the room they were occupying. He sat up and looked at her squarely.

“Do you really think I’m nothing but big talk and nothing to show for it?” he asked her, cocking his head to the side.

She chuckled lightly at his action, small but she couldn’t resist how sweet and soft he looks under the moonlight with her. Y/n wanted nothing more than to sit on his lap and tell him how handsome she though he was, even compared to the constellation of Orion that hung above them in the sky. She sat up and looked at him in the eye.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I mean do you really think that all I do is play games? That I just flirt to mess around and that I don’t care about having something serious?”

“Oh! No, Jaemin I didn’t mean to-” she said quickly, but Jaemin cut her off.

“Because I do. I want to have a relationship, something serious.”

“Jaemin I really didn’t mean to imply that you don’t. I just knew that a lot of girls talk about how flirty you are around campus and all that-”

“I don’t care about what they say, I want to make sure you know I’m not just playing games. That you aren’t a game to me.” His words were rushed, and Jaemin stumbled over them a little. The look on her face worried him, eyes wide and speechless for the second time tonight.

“Me? What are you trying to say?”

Jaemin let out and exasperated breath and said with his whole chest, “I’m saying I want to flirt seriously with you! I want to be able to tell you I think you’re beautiful and know that you’re rolling your eyes at me because I’m being cheesy and not because you think I’m joking. i want to walk you to class, and flirt with you in front of all the girls in class so that they know I only want you.”

She couldn’t help the goofy, love-struck smile that spread across her lips.

“Just me?”

“Yes, just you,” he said, allowing a smile to appear, mirroring hers. “Is the smile on your face a sign that you feel the same way about me..?”

“Na Jaemin it would be foolish of you to think that I haven’t been crushing on you as well,” she laughed.

“That’s interesting since you didn’t seem to know my name twenty minutes ago-”

“I was just teasing, how could I not know the name of the cute boy that sat behind me in class?”

Jaemin let out a small laugh, and pulled her onto his lap, flush against his chest. She let out a loud laugh and wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers lightly through his hair.Y/n sighed happily, as they relished in each other’s touch. The party below was steadily dying down as people huddled into their respective cars and drunk-called ubers for a ride back to their dorm. Soon the sun would take his place back up above the town, reminding every student that it was time to face the inevitable hang over, or even the walk of shame if they were lucky enough.

“Do you mean that? About liking me back?” Jaemin said biting his lip. God this boy was going to ruin her.

The words wouldn’t come to her. It was well into early morning and her mind was just a little hazy. The boy with the dreamy eyes and bright smile sat her with her, with adoration for only her in his tired eyes. She decided now wasn’t the time for her to tell him. Another day would come, maybe a day where there weren’t well over a hundred people lingering down below, or Jaemin’s roommates who could wander in at any given moment. Instead she placed a delicate kiss on his rosy lips and let that speak to word to him itself. This was their first kiss of many, and it was everything that either of them could’ve imagined. It was soft and sweet, Jaemin could feel the words of her truth and promises that lingered on her lips and smiled into the kiss. He pulled away and squished her cheeks in his hands, letting a giggle escape as he looked at her cute expression. A blush rose to her cheeks and she couldn’t help but look away. The two laughed together and eventually fell quite, looking into each other’s eyes.

“What do we do when morning comes?” she asked him, not breaking their unspoken staring contest of adoration.

“When the sun comes up I guess I’ll finally have the privilege of walking you to class,” he said pulling away to place a kiss on her nose. “And then when the sun tucks away on the other side of the world, and the moon rises once more, I’ll have the privilege of taking you on our first date.”

“Who goes on a first date on a Monday?” she asked scrunching her nose.

“The same people who attend a party that’s thrown on a Sunday night.”

“That’s fair. But can we discuss it more in the morning? I’m ready to go to sleep after partying so hard tonight.”

Jaemin let out a laugh. He looked up into her eyes and said “stay with me tonight. It’s too late for you to drive.”

“what about-”

“I’ll make sure Jeno drives her home, she’ll be okay. Very hung over but safe,” he assured her with a smile. “ Stay with me, and we can talk about the stars until we fall asleep.”

She smiled. “Well when you put it like that... what am I gonna say? no?”

Jaemin chuckled and stood up with her in his arms. He carried her to his room, no longer caring about the mess in the kitchen or Haechan’s drunk karaoke. All that mattered to him in that moment was that when morning came, she would be in his arms.

#na jaemin #nct #nct dream #na jaemin imagine #nct jaemin #nct jaemin imagine #nct imagine

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avengerofyourheart · 6 years

Text

Flour Girl {6} (Bucky x reader AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky (Jimmy), Wanda.

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? (Inspired by “You’ve Got Mail”, Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: She’s ready to fight!!! Are you ready? ;) There’s a bit more about the actual baking process in this part. I’m toying with the idea of sharing recipes or maybe doing short videos while making some of the yummy things I’ve mentioned. Let me know if that is of interest! And I’d love to hear your thoughts on this part, all feedback is appreciated and adored! Thank you alll for your love and support. I love you.<3

<<Part 5 Part 6 Part 7>>

Flour Girl Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

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(**gif is not a representation of the reader, only the act of kneading dough**)

Recipe development was always one of your favorite parts of the job. Inventing some new product that no one else had thought of, testing it out, and then tasting the end result was a satisfying process. Baking was a science and in order for it all to come together, you had to have the right ingredients in the correct amounts. Some people struggled with baking because it required more attention to detail and a lot of patience. You loved it though, every bit of it. Ever since you started making cookies in your mother’s kitchen as a young girl, you felt at home.

In order to avoid wasting time and ingredients, you grabbed a few of your current recipes and took them back to your desk to formulate a plan. After about 20 minutes, you decided to modify a scone recipe and a filled croissant. Having written down your adjustments, you grabbed your bag and told Wanda you’d be back shortly before walking down the street to the market.

Stepping inside the store, you felt your stomach clench at the memory of the last time you were there, that night when you’d run into Jimmy. It was mid-morning, though, and the chances of having a repeat interaction were slim to none. Fetching a basket, you walked down the aisle and selected the ingredients you had in mind before stopping at the cheese department and then checking out.

Back at the bakery, you set out your savory ingredients and got to work. You already had a sweet scone that was selling well in your pastry case. The flavor pairing of tart, zesty orange and rich dark chocolate pieces filling the scone and then drizzled with an orange glaze after baking made for a tantalizing treat.

English scones were much like a crumpet or a buttermilk biscuit, but a little more complex. For the savory version you had in mind, you weighed out your dry ingredients like flour, baking powder, and salt, but reducing the amount of sugar so the other flavors would be more prominent. Cutting up the butter into small cubes, you mixed them into the flour until the butter pieces were the size of peas. Next you slowly added the heavy cream and egg mixed together until it became a dough. Last came the sun-dried tomatoes and cubes of Havarti cheese that would bubble and melt to perfection in the oven. The thought of it made your mouth water.

You turned out the dough onto a floured surface and kneaded it with your hands a few times before patting it into a circle and then cutting that into triangles. You placed each one on a baking sheet, brushed them with cream and sprinkled coarse salt on top before sliding them into the oven. Washing your hands, you cleaned up the table and checked in on Wanda before starting your next project.

The filled croissant combination seemed a little odd, but if it worked out, the taste would be divine. Plucking the pears from your grocery bag, you peeled one of them, halved it, removed the seeds, and then began to slice it thinly. After rolling out a piece of croissant dough and cutting it into long triangles, you spread a small amount of spicy mustard on the wider side, placed a slice of smoked gouda cheese over that, and then layered the thin slices of pear on top. Carefully, you rolled up the croissant and placed it on a baking sheet.

It was easier to adjust and experiment with the croissants, since they were rolled individually. You put more cheese in some, more pears in others and then did a few without the mustard, in case the taste was too overwhelming. You wrote the contents of each one on a piece of parchment in black marker and then brushed them with an egg wash before baking. As the timer went off for the scones, the croissants were ready to go in.

You waited a few minutes before trying the scones and as you glanced at the clock, you were surprised so much time had passed. Caught up in your new experiments, it was a shock to realize it was almost lunchtime. Your internal clock was out of whack anyway, given your extra early wake up call this morning. Just then, your phone chimed so you pulled it out and woke up the screen.

A text from “B”. Seeing the initial pop up on your phone made you smile, and just like this morning, there was an attachment. He seemed to be respecting your desire to keep your interactions anonymous, so you weren’t expecting a selfie or anything. However, you also weren’t expecting a picture of a slice of pizza with the sign for Ruby Rosa’s Pizza. The caption read “Best slice in the city.”

Grinning with a bite of your lip, you pulled up the keyboard to respond.

FG: I might have to fight you on that. Their sauce is much too sweet. I prefer Capizzi’s.

“B” replied with an emoji of a shocked expression with a hand on each cheek.

B: You can’t be serious. Their crust is all wrong! I really thought we could still be friends after the whole Beatles/Stones debacle but this might be the last straw…

Letting out a chuckle you, rested your hip against the table and replied.

FG: If that’s how it is, then so be it. I stand by my pizza. You and your sugary sauce deserve each other. I should have known you’d love it, considering your THREE SUGARS in your coffee.

Those three dots appeared and lingered for a few minutes, so you took that time to taste one of your scones. They were delicious and just as you had hoped, the melted cheese had created delectable little pockets of gooey-ness in the scone, but the sun-dried tomato flavor was much too subtle. It would take at least one more adjusted batch to get it right. You weren’t surprised; sometimes you had to re-make something five times before the recipe was perfect.

B’s response finally arrived.

B: Whew. Alright, alright. We’ll drop the subject for now. I’ll definitely convert you one of these days, though. So how’s your day been?

You felt a flip in your stomach first of all, because it meant that he wanted this…whatever it was…to continue. And honestly, so did you. It had only been a short time, but hearing from him had become the highlight of your day. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know his name or what he looked like, in fact it was part of the fun at this point. Pecking out a reply, you sent it and then made notes on your scone recipe as you awaited his reply.

FG: Day started earlier than I’d like, and ran into that insufferable person but it’s been all uphill since then. :) How about you?

B: Man, can’t that jerk take a hint? Franny doesn’t need any of your dickhead-ed behavior. Especially running on less sleep. ;) I’m sorry that happened again. Need any more distractions? I’m available.

Your heart skipped a beat at that last phrase. He probably didn’t mean it in the way you might have interpreted. Maybe? In fact, since you knew almost nothing about him, it was possible that you were conversing with someone who might be…involved? Married? It was a ridiculous notion, since all you were doing was texting, but there was definitely a flirty tone in your conversations. Or you thought so. It was difficult to tell through text.

Just as you were about to respond, you got a phone call and the name on the screen made your face light up as you answered.

“Hi, dad,” you said with a smile.

“Hey, how’s my little Flour Girl? The big city still treating you alright?” you heard your father’s voice through the phone. You spoke at least twice a week and he always asked how you were getting by in the city, even after living there over a year and half. You loved that he still worried, though, so you just smiled and shook your head.

“The city is fine, dad. The shop is still doing great. How are you?” you asked, peeking in the oven at your croissants at the same time.

“Oh, I’m just fine. Not much changes around here, not like in the city.”

You grinned, knowing how much your dad preferred the quiet, small town life. You told him all about your new savory pastries and everything about the shop, but you held back the information about Barnes Bakery and this new “competition” with Jimmy, or whatever it was. That information would only make your father worry and besides, you had it under control.

Your parents had always been supportive of your career choice, never failing to taste your latest cookies or cake experiments growing up. Some of your first memories were of spending time with your mom in the kitchen. Whenever your dad came home from work, most nights he found you in the kitchen covered in flour. Thus, you became his little Flour Girl. A play on words that also rang true.

When your mom got sick during your senior year of high school, you became obsessed with finding new recipes that would sound good to her and that the doctors would approve. Her passing the following summer left an everlasting hole in your life and heart, but she wanted your dreams to come true, no matter what. She even set aside some money for your bakery in her will, making you even more determined to succeed in her honor. Since then, it had just been you and your dad against the world.

“Well, pumpkin, I better sign off. The boss is giving me the eye,” your father told you after a wonderful, lengthy conversation that you definitely needed.

“Yeah, I better get back to work, too. I love you, dad,” you said, trying to hide the emotion in your voice. His phone calls never failed to make you a little homesick, no matter how much you loved living in the city.

“Love you, too, Y/N. You be careful.”

“I will. Bye.”

Lost in your thoughts after hanging up, you jumped a little when the oven timer went off. Pulling out the croissants, you waited for them to cool before tasting a little bit of each one. Confident that you had found a winning combination, you also had Wanda taste them and select her favorite, which also happened to be the same as yours. Never hurt to have a second opinion. One last test batch of your Sun-dried Tomato and Havarti scones and you felt good about the recipes. Clint was going to be blown away and you’d get your spot back in their pastry case. You were sure of it.

Preparing both the croissants and scones to be baked fresh in the morning, you cleaned up your mess and checked what was needed up front. A few more trays of cookies in the oven and you finally pulled out your phone to respond to B’s text.

FG: Sorry, got interrupted by a phone call and work. But I’ll take a rain check on that distraction.

You read it over one more time, hoping it sounded just a little suggestive but not over the top, and hit send.

B: No problem. Offer still stands. :)

Smiling from ear to ear, you left the conversation there and went about your day with a little more pep in your step.

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Part 7>>

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OooOOOooohh!!!! Don’t those croissants and scones sound delicious?? *heart eyes* I actually do create recipes and change the flavors of baked good as part of my job. It’s pretty fun. :D And now he find out the origin of the “flour girl” nickname!! That’s pretty sweet, right? And a bit of background about why the reader loves to bake. Whether you sympathize or not, I hope you enjoy those little tidbits. Ooh, a distraction?? B just gets more adorable every day. ;) I’d love to hear your thoughts on this part, any feedback is appreciated. I adore every one of you!! Thank you. <3

Permanent tag list and FG tag list are CLOSED.

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@pietrotheavenger @thisismysecrethappyplace @part-time-patronus @feelmyroarrrr @ria132love @interestedbystanderwrites @abovethesmokestacks @hymnofthevalkyrie @spideypnw @badassbaker @janeyboo @palaiasaurus64 @dustycelt @mylittlefandomfanfictions @officialcaptain-marvel @maryehudson @sebbytrash @bionic-buckyb @sebastianbarnesandchrisrogers @jaybird6232 @bemystucky @averyrogers83 @beccaanne814 @eyesofgoldenambers @missmotherhen @bunnieandcrow @mizzzpink @buckysberrie @imaginingbucky @deathbyarabbit @avengersandchill @timeladylaurel @indominusregina @queen-merc @vaisabu @1800-peggys-orange-lipstick @piensa-bonito @msshadowboxer @withahintofpestoaioli @cant-decide-at-this-moment @jaderbugz @blue1928 @jbarnes87 @whothehellisbella @captainrogerss @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @themcuhasruinedme @ilovebeingjoyful @maririn @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @girlwith100names @writingruna @lokiandbuckyaremine @hufflepuff-ish @pixierox101 @supernatural-girl97 @stay-wokke @airixaram @buckyssxxhair @buckys-newarm @lostinspace33 @poealsobucky @buckyofthemyscira @joannie95 @4theluvofall @im-a-light-child @1999yanira @escapetheshackles @lbouvet @black-eyed-bucky @finhabastos

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@yallneedtrek @lexie-mo @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @kingcarterprince @snuggleducky @acunningstargazer @zadyalyss @satans-knitting-club @honey-bee-holly @just-add-butter @captainradicalpassion @chook007 @peekingsunshine @odinhson @chrisevans1fan @fangirlwithasweettooth @angryteapot @srhls @jurassicbarnes @livingoffsavvyillusions @ahufflepuffbitch @sebbystanlover-vk @thisismyfriend-tree @susmita121 @fandom-addict-aesthetics @lowkeybuckyb @jitterbuck @lunacajun @aligatorinavest @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @lilyblack78910 @uservalkyrie @hawaiiantozier

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #baker au #reader x bucky #reader x bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky au #reader x james buchanan barnes #marvel fan fic #marvel fan fiction #avengers fan fiction #avengers au #you've got mail

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popatochisssp · 5 years

Text

Fur a Good Time, Call... 2/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader Chapter Warnings: none

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Humerus

You didn’t actually see much of Sans in the days that followed.

His schedule was really more of a non-schedule, something so freeform and seemingly random that if there was a system in place, you certainly couldn’t figure it out.

He did good work whenever he showed up, though, which was a lot more than could be said for some of the other well-meaning volunteers who ended up being more hindrance than help. You figured that whatever leniency your manager gave that let him just sort of come in whenever was probably deserved.

Of course, it was entirely possible that he was around and you were just missing him. You’d been more or less absorbed with your latest pet-project and noticing much of anything around here, even a giant skeleton in slippers, was probably asking too much of your attention span.

On the bright side, you were delighted to say that Buddy was doing great!

A quick buzz and a bath to the new stray had revealed a merle coat and stunning ice-blue eyes that the whole shelter fell in love with almost immediately. With even just a few days of regular meals his scrawny body was starting to fill out, and when his tail got to wagging and he relaxed enough to show off a winning doggy smile it was obvious to everyone that you had a handsome little man on your hands.

So far, though, it seemed that Buddy only had eyes for you.

He was okay around most people; a little shy and nervous, maybe, but he certainly hadn’t bitten or lashed out at anyone. He was just a noticeably more relaxed dog when you were somewhere he could see you.

It wasn’t much of a surprise since you had been there to calm him down that first day—you had a feeling Buddy might show a similar response to Sans—but it was clear that you’d become a safe person to him.

For that reason, it was decided that it was probably in everyone’s best interests if you were the one to handle most of his training and socialization. The bulk of your day-to-day duties was shifted around to other people for the time being and that was that: you’ve been Buddy’s best buddy ever since.

He was currently panting hard beside you, glancing up at you every few steps as if to say, ‘I did good, right?’

“Yes, Buddy, you’re a very good boy.” You gave him a quick scritch along the scruff of his neck—his favorite spot—and opened the door to let him back into the shelter. “Good first walk.”

You’d taken him around the neighborhood the long way, partly exercise and partly a test. Walks were a great way to suss out little things about a dog that were impossible to notice interacting with it just in a kennel, and you found that those details helped you write up the best adoption descriptions possible.

Buddy, for example, loved to sniff everything and had even tracked down a scent all the way to a squirrel dray up a small tree. The one floppy ear of his could be a sign he had some hound-blood in him, which was always better to write than just ‘mutt’ or ‘???’

You’d guess that he also had some feline ancestry of the scaredy-cat variety because as soon as an actual squirrel had popped out and squawked at him, Buddy had hurried away quite suddenly, pulling you along with him. Probably better for a household without other pets so the poor little wuss didn’t get harassed all day long.

“You made it, see?” you cooed, leading him back inside and tweaking his pointed ear. “Gonna get you some water and then you can lay down and catch your breath. Good boy.”

Except…maybe not?

Buddy didn’t seem to want to go back to the dog room and his kennel just yet. Even tired as he seemed to be, he was dragging you down the other hallway and sniffing along the tiled floor with focus.

“What, Buddy? You find a really good smell?” He must’ve because even a gentle tug to his leash didn’t seem to sway him from this new path, just like with the squirrel from earlier. “Okay, guess you’ll show me.”

You could probably spare a couple minutes on a detour and you were more than a bit curious to see where Buddy wanted to go.

Ending up in the laundry room shouldn’t have been much of a surprise. Especially not with a pile of unwashed bedding sitting out right there on the floor.

“Oh, no wonder, that’s a great smell.” A little grin split across your face at your own sarcasm. “Well, it is for you, I guess.”

Buddy did seem pleased by his discovery. His tail was wagging as he enthusiastically nosed through the folds of a tawny brown blanket, nudging it this way and that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Getting to see a dog that was so scared and hurt barely more than a week ago start to get better; a sweet, silly boy like this having some fun snuffling around in a dirty quilt….

This was why you loved your job.

When Buddy’s tail went still, though, you paused. “What? What is it?”

Obviously, he didn’t answer you so you moved a little closer to the laundry pile, trying to see for yourself. Hiding there in the earth-toned pile, beneath Buddy’s pointing muzzle was a surprising splash of color.

You reached for it and picked it up. Even as Buddy’s tail started to wag again—‘See? Look what I found!’—you tilted your head in confusion.

The thing was…a rock.

Blue-green in color and very rough to the touch, it glinted a little in the light when you turned it in your hand but otherwise seemed to just be a big hunk of stone. Sitting in the dog blankets. Where rocks…usually weren’t?

“What the hell.”

“oh, that’s mine.”

You whirled around and who should be standing there but Sans, huge and looming and having made absolutely no sound with his arrival, like always. You blamed the sudden adrenaline spike for what you blurted out next.

“Shit, you’re quiet, has anyone ever told you that you should wear a bell?”

It seemed like you’d surprised him with that. The upper ridges of his oddly malleable eye-sockets raised up and his red pupil shrunk from its normal size. He stared at you long enough for you to realize what you’d just said and stars above, was ‘rude’ your default setting?!

“God, I’m sorry, that was—”

A snort cut you off, followed by a full-on chuckle.

“a bell?” Sans echoed, his grin seeming to stretch wider across his skull. “heheheheh… no, that’s a new one. not sure i get the appeal.”

You almost started to apologize again before you caught the emphasis. That was a joke! He must not be too offended by your lack of manners if he was joking with you.

You laughed a little instead and watched Sans perk up, his eye-light dilating back to normal.

“maybe it does, uh… ring a little true,” he admitted. “did i scare ya’?”

“Oh…heh, maybe a little….” You looked down to see that Buddy had fully abandoned the blanket and was now vigorously sniffing at Sans’ feet and legs and everything clicked. “Oh! He smelled you! That’s why he dragged me in here.”

“hm?” Sans looked down too and recognition flashed across his face. “oh, hey, pal,” he greeted, bending to scratch at Buddy’s ears. “ya look good.”

So far, Buddy hadn’t really liked it when hands got near his face. He’d let you do it, though—you and apparently Sans, who Buddy was totally fine with while he sniffed the ever-living hell out of Sans’ sleeve.

“you found my rock, huh? good job, i been lookin’ for that.”

Right! You held out the chunk of stone in offering. “Here,” you said. “It was under that blanket, I guess you must’ve dropped it.”

Sans straightened and took the rock back from you. What completely filled your hand settled neatly in his palm and his smile turned a little sheepish. “nah, it was in my pocket. but, uh…” He pinched the bottom of his hoodie, highlighting the pocket that the very dog who now came up to smell it had bitten through on his first day here. “i tried to stitch it and called it good, but i guess not so much.”

The rock had some serious heft to it when you held it. You didn’t doubt that it would test a rushed repair-stitch to the breaking point, but… “Why didn’t you just put it in your other pocket?”

“and squish my ketchup?”

“……what?”

Sans seemed happy to show you. He swapped his rock to the other hand and scooped out…god, what had to be at least two dozen little ketchup packets from his pocket.

“don’t always have a rock,” he told you, as if he were actually explaining something, “but i always got these. they were here first.”

The absurdity of the situation hit you all at once. You were standing in a laundry room, holding a dog who was still smelling everything while a skeleton two heads taller than you was very soberly justifying why a condiment collection had seniority over a rock in regards to pocket-storage.

You thought bursting out laughing was completely appropriate.

“Pfft, what the fuck,” you said through helpless giggles. “Why do you have those? Why do you have either of those things? Oh my god…”

Far from offended, Sans looked delighted by your laughter. “i like ketchup,” he said with an easy shrug, putting the packets away. “as for this…” Sans paused a moment to look at the stone in his hand. He almost seemed to be debating something with himself. “well, i, uh… i’m actually…a little bit of a geologist? so i like rocks.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What, seriously?”

“yeah. helped out with the CORE a little, back… back Underground.”

The CORE—a technical marvel of geothermal energy production and totally unrivaled by anything manmade so far. According to the news, it had provided heat and light to the trapped monsters even when they had literally nothing else, and top scientists were still studying it trying to replicate its function. It was slow-going research because according to the former monster Queen, everyone who’d built it was dust and gone.

Obviously not entirely true.

“You’re kidding,” you breathed. “That’s amazing.”

Sans just rubbed the back of his neck. “mmm… wore a lotta hats back then. ‘jack of all trades,’ y’know? not into the other technical bits so much anymore, but i still like the geology stuff.” He cracked an awkward smile at you as he added, “it rocks.”

You laughed and watched the tension leave his shoulders. You realize pretty quickly that you may have found the key to befriending Sans that’s been eluding you all this time: he’s volunteered more (completely fascinating) information about himself in the past few minutes than anyone else had learned in weeks, and it all started when you laughed at his jokes.

That certainly wasn’t hard to do. Sans was a funny guy when you actually got him talking and you found yourself really not wanting it to stop.

A glance at Buddy down by your feet and then the clock up on the wall—early afternoon—and you had your idea.

Impulsively and before you could lose the confidence, you say, “Hey, so… I was gonna go get Buddy settled and then head out for lunch. Would you…want to come? The place I usually go to is close by and I’d be happy to treat.”

You’d clearly caught Sans by surprise again. “……really? why?”

You didn’t quite get his confusion but, “Well… I kinda feel like I should get to know you.” You fussed a little with the leash in your hands, trying to spend your nervous energy. “I mean, you’ve been here for how long and I’m only now finding out you’re funny? That’s crazy. Plus I’m going anyway, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I just thought….” You didn’t know what you thought and you realized you were on the verge of rambling so you let the sentence trail off.

The offer was out there, you’d made the attempt. That was something to be proud of, even if he said no!

“…i dunno,” Sans said eventually and you bit back a sigh of disappointment. “see, i did just lose my apatite.”

“That’s okay, I—…”

The emphasis. You stared at the rock in Sans’ hand, which he helpfully waggled when he caught you looking.

“……is that. Is that actually apatite?”

Sans looked like he was bursting to tell you, grinning with eager anticipation. “yeah.”

“……”

This time when you completely lost it laughing, Sans joined you with a quiet chuckle that had you covering your face and shaking your head.

“Oh my god, did you plan this? Did you set this up somehow, just for that joke?” you demanded.

Sans snorted but shook his head, “nah, happy accident, i swear. probably the happiest accident of my life, though, that was perfect.”

Still smiling, you looked up at him. “So, lunch, then? Yea or nay?”

“hell, i don’t turn down free food. sure. just gotta put this in,” he nudged the laundry pile with his slipper, “and drop my rock off at home where it’s less funny. lobby in fifteen?”

You blinked in surprise. “You live that close?”

Sans made a face and gave you a so-so motion with his hand. “but,” he winked, “i do know a shortcut.”

And then he was gone again, just like before.

Buddy visibly startled, jumping back up from where he’d been sitting (like a good boy!) and whipping his head around to you, like you could somehow explain to this animal that didn’t speak your language all the nuances of an apparently teleport-capable skeleton.

“I don’t know, man,” you told the poor dog, “I’m in the same boat as you. Let’s just get you that water, okay?”

Buddy actually let you lead him all the way to his kennel this time. He lapped up half of the water you put in his bowl and then padded straight over to his cot where he plopped down with a big, dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, your life is so hard,” you teased, which Buddy seemed utterly indifferent to so you left him where he was and went to go clock out for lunch.

True to his word, Sans was waiting for you when you got to the lobby, greeting you with a crooked grin and an awkward wave.

You mentally laughed at yourself for ever having thought this guy was scary when it seemed like everything he did just proved what a total goober he was.

“You ready to go?” you asked him. “Any last minute jokes you want to get out before we leave? Sight-gags? Puns?”

“heheheheheh… jeez, we haven’t even hung out yet and ya already got me pegged.”

“Am I wrong?”

“nope,” he freely told you. “i was tryin’ to think of somethin’ but ya showed up too early. i’ll let ya know if i come up with anything on the way over.”

And with that, the two of you headed out the door into the lovely, sunshiny day.

The weather was great and you made some small talk about that before telling Sans a bit about the place you were going—a little cheap and a little dive-y, but it was close to work and the food was good so you went there pretty much all the time.

Sans nodded and ‘hmm’ed in all the right spots but you got the slight sense that he wasn’t fully paying attention to you. His eye-light kept casting up to the sky; the endless expanse of azure blotted with fluffy white clouds floating past on the breeze.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be offended by Sans’ distraction. Stars only knew how long he’d spent thinking he’d never get to see a sight like that.

His focus immediately switched back to you again once there was a roof over your heads and he watched you peruse the short menu on the wall. “know what you’re getting?”

“Yep. I’ve got a usual,” you told him, “I think I’ll stick with that. You?”

He looked at the menu himself, processing it for a minute before shrugging. “eh. i’m not picky. anything you’d recommend?”

You turned to face him fully, looking him up and down. Feeling unaccountably playful, you asked, “Trust me to order for you?”

He just eyed you, half-puzzled and half-amused. “sure? knock yourself out, i guess.”

Decision made, you went up to the counter and ordered your usual, “And a triple bacon cheeseburger with everything on it, fries for the side.”

You paid and got your order ticket and went back off to the side to wait…where Sans was unabashedly staring at you in awe.

“how did you know?” he asked. “triple isn’t even up there.”

You were probably radiating the smuggest aura right now, but you couldn’t help it. “I told you I come here a lot. The chef is cool, he doesn’t mind throwing an extra patty on there if you ask for it. You’re a pretty big guy, I figured a double might not cut it.”

“and the rest of it?”

“Anybody who carries around as much ketchup as you do is basically guaranteed to be a garbage disposal when it comes to food. No offense,” you added quickly, though you didn’t entirely think Sans would take offense to that. “That, plus you’ve got a pretty big grease stain on your shirt, so….”

Sans looked at the stain and then at you before starting to snicker at himself. “oh my god, you really do got me pegged. you’re not gonna sherlock me the whole time, are ya?”

“I’ll try to refrain,” you offered magnanimously and then sent him off to fill up your drink cups at the machine over on the wall while you stayed to wait for the food.

It didn’t take long for your number to be called and you settled your tray down at a booth Sans had scoped out for you. You found that it was only a little surreal for you to be at your favorite eatery, sitting across from a skeleton that you happened to work with.

After a few more words of small talk about the food—so good, probably in the Top Five of all the burgs he’s ever had, great pick— you find you’ve gathered enough courage to start the social part of the outing.

“So,” you say lightly, picking at your meal, “the CORE. That’s some pretty groundbreaking stuff.” Sans huffs a tiny laugh at the pun. “I kinda gotta ask why a guy like you is at an animal shelter, of all places.”

“mostly this,” he says, reaching up to knock his knuckles against his skull, right next to the broken part of it. “see, i guess when half your head caves in, that makes it start workin’ different than it used to.”

The candid answer sobers you quickly. “Oh.”

“yeah. takes me a little longer to work stuff out than it used to. i forget things easier. got a fun little issue where i just sorta fall asleep sometimes. i got some human medication for it that helps, but it still happens. i’m sure you’ve noticed it.”

You…have.

In the time Sans has been at the shelter, he’s almost always had a follow-up question on a task he’d been given, or needed another run-through on a procedure he’d already been shown.

You hadn’t seen it yourself, but you’d once heard a couple volunteers chuckling good-naturedly near the coffee pot in the break area and saying they should bring a mug to the stock room for Sans; the poor guy must’ve had a late night if he’d passed out halfway through doing inventory.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling…very guilty all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. That’s…pretty personal…”

But Sans shakes his head. “nah, don’t be sorry,” he says. “i just like havin’ my cards on the table. i’d be a liability workin’ in some lab with my head the way it is, for sure, but i was outta the science game long before it even happened. it ain’t as tragic as all that.”

“No?”

“nah. i’ve done a bunch of different stuff since then and none of it had anything to do with my degrees.”

You almost asked about that—degrees, plural—but you find yourself more curious about the other jobs he’s tried. He’d called himself a jack of all trades earlier and you wonder just how much that covered.

As it turns out, it covered quite a lot. In between bites of his burger, you get Sans to tell you all about the times he sold concert tickets, rented out a telescope, and ran an illegitimate (?!) hot dog stand.

(You don’t ask what he did during the famine. Even you know it’s a faux pas of the highest order to ask a monster about the famine.)

“i think my favorite was the comedy routine,” Sans says eventually. “had a little time-slot at a fancy resort every other week. that was a lotta fun.”

“I am not even a little surprised you were a comedian,” you say flatly, but with enough of a teasing note in your voice that you see him smile. “Is that something you wanted to get back into?”

“mmm…probably not?” He picks at his ketchup-drenched fries a little. “it’d be nice, maybe, but i dunno if i trust myself to be up on stage for a whole set, these days. nothin’ sadder than live reruns.”

You blurt it without thinking. “The things you take for granite, I guess.”

He’s quiet for just a bit and you worry you may have overstepped there…but a second later he bursts out laughing. The sound is deep and genuine, so much more than his understated little chuckle and you couldn’t have been prouder to be the cause of it.

When he finally looks at you, you swear that the red light of his eye is sparkling. “oh man, good one. hope I remember that, Pap’ll hate it.”

“Pap?”

And you thought you’d found Sans’ conversation button before.

It turned out that jokes were only the second best way to get Sans talking; the best was his brother, Papyrus.

You’d had no idea a skeleton could look so animated until you had Sans smiling, gesturing, practically vibrating with pride across from you as he told you all about his sibling.

Papyrus is the coolest guy ever, athletic and smart and so organized Sans can hardly believe it. He used to be a bit of a chef, but lately he’s had more of a budding (heheh) interest in gardening and their yard looks so colorful now, it’s crazy. He’s also studying to be a nurse and working part-time at one of those big home improvement stores until then.

“we get that money from the human government, y’know,” Sans points out. “we both do, so it’s not like he even has to work? we could coast awhile on what we got and be fine, but Papyrus goes out first thing and picks up a job ‘cause he likes to be productive, and then he starts going to school for an even harder job just ‘cause he wants to help people.” Sans is positively beaming at you. “isn’t my brother cool?”

Well, of course. That should go without saying, but you can’t help but think of Sans, too; how he volunteers at the shelter, spending his unpaid time doing hard, dirty work to help fuzzy people that can’t even thank him.

“It seems like it runs in the family,” you say sincerely.

Like most of the times so far you’ve said something he didn’t expect, Sans needs a couple extra seconds to process it. When he realizes what you said, though, the most curious thing happens.

The light of his eye is a vibrant cherry-red… but the color that spreads impossibly across his cheekbones is a soft gray-blue, like slate or steel.

You can’t help but find it… bizarrely pretty.

“eheheheheh…” His nervous laugh is almost as nice as his normal one, though it does make you want to pat his hand a little and tell him it’s okay. When he immediately changes the subject in the least subtle way possible, you have enough mercy to let him. “so, uh. what about you? what’s your story? why the shelter?”

“Sorry to say I don’t have much of a story. Well,” you amend, “not an interesting one, anyway. I, uh, I’ve always liked animals and I kinda knew from the start that I wanted to work with them, so… it’s pretty much just always been this, for me.” You look down and fiddle with the straw of your empty drink, and laugh, “I’m nothing special, really.”

You immediately wonder if maybe that was a little too self-deprecating. You can feel Sans looking at you and try to decide if you should go for an unsubtle subject change yourself or just wait to see what he says.

You're more than a little relieved when Sans makes the decision for you.

“well……i wouldn’t terrierself up about it. you seem like somebody with a lot of petential.”

Your laugh that time is totally genuine, surprised out of you. You look back up, grinning, and can’t quite resist a pun of your own. “Are you fur real, right now?”

But of course, there’s no out-punning the master. “i’m pawsitive.”

You both dissolved into giggles like you were two middle-school girls instead of the grown (maybe not so) mature adults you were.

Eventually you both finished your food and it was time to go. Sans had that load of laundry to finish and you wanted to do some more clicker-training with Buddy—you were sure you could teach him to shake and you weren’t giving that up without a fight!—so you headed out for the short walk back to work.

The trip over is quiet, but companionable and it isn't long into it before you find yourself chasing another crazy impulse.

“So… do you want to exchange numbers?” You feel awkward even asking. It’s maybe only the third or fourth time in your entire life that you’ve been the one to ask for a person’s number, but, “This was fun and I don’t really have anybody at work to go to lunch with. It’d be cool to…keep in touch?”

Sans scratched at his cheek. “guess you’d want me to pay for my own food next time, huh?” He made a show of considering this, which made you snicker. “don’t suppose you’d consider lettin’ me open a tab? i’m good for it, i swear.”

“Why do I doubt that so much?”

“careful, now, these completely accurate judgments of my character are gonna start hurtin’ my feelings.”

You rolled your eyes with obvious amusement, much to Sans’ apparent pleasure.

“i’m kiddin’, i’m kiddin’, that sounds great. i don’t have a lunch-pal, either.”

You go to get out your phone for him to put his number in, but he’s faster—possibly because it looks like he had his in his ketchup-pocket. He hands it to you unlocked, with the messages screen pulled up.

“just text yourself, it’s easier.”

You do, keying in your number and sending a skull emoji to yourself. You felt the answering buzz of your own phone a moment later but paid it no mind, trying to think of a good name to put yourself under in his contacts.

Your actual name would be boring, but you didn’t want to pick something too out there just in case Sans would look at it later and have no idea who you were supposed to be.

It wasn’t long before you got it. You happily typed, ‘Good@Dogs’ next to your number and saved the contact. You’d have to think of something fun to put Sans as later.

This would be good! It had been a long time since you had a work-friend…or really any kind of friend…and it would be nice to have somebody to go to lunch with sometimes, and to send funny memes to. You had a feeling Sans would appreciate memes.

Plus, maybe you could meet up for other stuff outside of work, like if a cool movie came out or something. You might even get to meet the infamous Papyrus at some point!

There were so many good reasons to have Sans’ number and absolutely none of them were that he was a total sweetheart of a skeleton that seemed to get cuter every time you spoke.

You ignore that thought and go to hand Sans’ phone back, only to pause.

In the minute or so since you’d stopped talking, Sans had gotten distracted by the sky again. He was just standing there on the sidewalk, watching the clouds and soaking up a sunbeam with the corners of his eye-sockets crinkled just so.

Sans suddenly looked like the biggest, boniest cat you’d ever seen, lazing in the sunlight on the verge of a nap. It wouldn’t have surprised you one bit if he started purring and it made you feel….

You cleared your throat. “Sans? Your phone.”

“huh?” His focus turned back to you and the phone you held out to him and the moment was gone. “oh yeah, thanks.”

He took his phone back and you were on your way again.

Oh, no. Sans wasn’t cute at all.

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#fur a good time call #myfic #fanfiction #undertale #sans #sans/reader #horrortale #ht!sans

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hookahazz · 6 years

Text

Chronicles of a Black Girl Vol 3: Family Reunion |Harry Styles|

Warnings: Fluff, lil angst, cursing

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Don’t kill me LMFAOO ik I said this morning but ya got it tonight. You got the trick from trick or treat. But this one is real cute and ish and I kept the same concept I just made it so that he meets her whole family and not just her parents. Please give me feedback and tell me how you felt. It’s much appreciated. Tell me how you honestly felt. I’m about to post the master list and it’ll show you the title of the next fic and that one and man y’all gone die its adorable. Enjoy pt 3 and thanks for reading all of them I appreciate y’all a fuck load. <3

ASK BOX

If you don’t know, black people have three main values that are held above others: their hair, some good “put you to sleep after you eat about 2 plates” soul food and family. Family reunions and get-togethers are the highlights of the year. It is the time where they could all be together in one setting and enjoy one another's presence, the time where the adults would play spades and talk grown folk talk, and the time where your distant relatives would pull you into a hug filled with a strong perfume and hit you with that, “Oh hi baby, I haven’t seen you since you were two years old! You remember me?” There’s no greater feeling than being surrounded by those foil trays that were filled to the brim with mouth-watering sweet potatoes, potato salad (not the shit white people make with apples and all that other bullshit! as (Y/N) would put it), and that creamy, golden mac n’ cheese that black people would kill for (if made correctly, (Y/N)’s mom refuses to make anything but baked macaroni). The feeling of satisfaction one gets from being surrounded by uncles and aunties, grandmas and granddads, and listening to them tell stories about stuff that happened decades ago that still makes all of them laugh until they're crying. And the music! Oh yes-- that authentic soul music that was carefully constructed by the legendary artist who had the power to change peoples lives and move somebody's soul (Maze featuring Frankie Beverly, Michael Jackson, The Temptations, Gladys Knight, Ms. Lauryn Hill ((Y/N)'s ultimate favorite) , New Edition ). It was the music that would make those same aunts and uncles get up and dance horribly until their heart's content without the fear of judgment. Black people live for moments like such: to just sit around and be unconditionally black.

At the start of the semester, Harry and (Y/N) had been paired to do a project for their business law course (a class both of them regretted taking). At first (Y/N) was a little wary to be working with Harry, she'd never had any interaction with the boy except for when he asked to borrow a pencil and surprisingly gave it back in the end. After just twenty minutes of working with him, there wasn't a reason to be worried at all. In all her twenty-one years of living, she'd never met someone so goofy in her life (except her two older brothers). Harry was so sweet and funny it was almost hard to stay concentrated at the task at hand. That probably explains why they got a B- on the assignment instead of an A. Since then the two became friends, then best friends, and after months of teasing from Harrys best mate, Niall, they'd become boyfriend and girlfriend.

They'd been dating for nearly three months and so far Harry's only met (Y/N)'s older brothers, Anthony and Caleb. Their first meeting wasn't in the most typical way. For one, all four of them were drunk off their asses after a night out at a frat party. Caleb and Anthony played multiple rounds of patty-cake with Harry, giggling while (Y/N) lied on her couch laughing at her toes. Her brothers adored Harry in every possible aspect. The three of them have become the best of friends and hang out all of the time which makes (Y/N) so, so happy. She's had a plethora of boyfriends (she’s quite the chocolate catch) and her brothers have hated every single one of them, always making sure (Y/N) knew that they aren't good enough for her. “You saw what he was wearing? His pants are sagging and falling to his fucking knees! His knees, (Y/N)!” Going from them to Harry was a drastic but much-needed change that both Caleb and Anthony appreciated a lot. They wanted nothing but the best for their baby sister and they knew Harry was as good as it was gonna get.

"So do you want to go with me? You don't have to if you're not ready, babe."

On her way home from work she'd gotten a call from her dear mother regarding the annual family reunion and of course she invited Harry. Went on for nearly ten minutes about how “the two of you have been dating for three months, that boy's gonna have to meet the family sooner or later!” The conversation mainly consisted of momma (Y/L/N) talking and (Y/N) giving her a couple of mhm's and yes ma's here and there. "Course I'll come, lovie. Been dyin' to meet your family!" he beamed, excited as she had predicted. Harry valued family more than anything so meeting hers was a big step in their relationship. "You're not nervous or anything, right? I mean for real, if you are then we really don't even gotta go. They won't even miss us," she assured him. In all honesty, (Y/N) didn't want to rush anything with Harry. She really really liked him and she was fully aware of how rowdy and wild her family can get.

"No babe, it's gonna be fun! M'excited!" he grinned wrapping his arm around his girlfriend's waist.

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Harry was never a shy or nervous person, it just wasn't him. He'd never really been in a situation where he was incredibly anxious and meeting (Y/N)'s parents were no different. He was absolutely positive that they'd love him and he assured (Y/N) that multiple times when she'd brought up meeting them. He was a people pleaser, someone who wanted to satisfy everyone, someone who naturally appealed to everyone. Harry had never been in a position to which he had to appeal to someone who didn't like him because everyone liked him, even if they didn't want to.

"When is it again, button?" Harry questioned, playing with (Y/N)'s kinky locks. She'd just finished washing her hair and Harry absolutely loved watching her condition and style it. "Uh, the day after tomorrow. So Wednesday? Yeah Wednesday," she concluded, slabbing on a generous amount of leave in conditioner. He grinned, doing the same to another section of her hair (he also enjoyed assisting her in styling her hair, the conditioner smelled of coconuts and almonds that nearly made him drool). "You're really excited aren't you?" she questioned. "Course I am. S'a big step in our relationship and I've always wanted to meet your parents. You're mum especially," (Y/N) snorted. Like the majority of black moms (Y/N)'s was crazy crazy. Her childhood consisted of a ton of life lessons that stemmed from a simple joke (Y/N) would make or a movie that wasn't meant to be taken way out of context, her mom constantly telling all her friends (some of which (Y/N) didn't even know) all of her business, and plenty of ass whoopings with the following: a switch, a belt, or any random object momma (Y/L/N) could get her hands on. "Oh yes, you'll love her. She's a peach."

"Oi, why are you laughin'?" he poked her sides.

"No reason baby,' she chuckled, pressing her lips to his cheek.

"I'm positive you're parents will love me. M'gonna be the first boyfriend your family likes. Even Caleb and Anthony said so!" She rolled her eyes, of course they would think so. They adore Harry because he's nothing like the lot of old boys she used to fool around with. "Yeah and you'll also be the first white boy I've brought home so that'll be something." she joked. Harry stiffened, "you're serious? They're not gonna like me then (Y/N)!" He began panicking. Not once did he think he'd need to worry about someone not liking him because of his skin color. Not once did he have to feel worried about being picked apart and judged based on the color of his skin. In fact, he'd never worried about anything regarding his skin tone because it has and would never affect his daily life.

She turned, stopping the commotion with her hair to focus on her very panicky boyfriend who looked as if he were going to cry at any given moment. She wrapped her arms around him pulling him into a tight hug, rubbing her soft hands up and down his back (a tactic she learned only but weeks ago that would calm him down). "Hey, hey, hey. I was just joking, baby. You don't have to be worried about them not liking you because you're white. They don't care. You could be green and they'd still love you," she smiled, trying to contain a laugh. It was amusing to see how worked up he would get over minute situations like such. (Y/N) thought it was so adorable that he'd even cared so much. "You're sure? They're not gonna kick me out or somethin' right?" he looked up at her. "I promise they won't," she laughed, she knew her family wasn’t like that. They loved everyone. Even with that, Harry was still convinced that (Y/N)'s family were going to hate him. He simply smiled and nodded and continued to work conditioner into her hair and twist it in hopes to calm him down.

↫ ↬

Now, the both of them were standing in front of (Y/N)'s parent's house waiting nervously for someone to answer the door and Harr, for the first time, really felt as though he was about to shit his pants on their poor porch. He wanted to run and hide behind her mothers beautiful rose bush and stay there until this whole conjuncture was over. He wrapped his long digits around (Y/N)'s and squeezed her hand for reassurance. "Hey, it's gonna be alright. I swear," she whispered just as the door began to open.

"(Y/N), my sweet grandbaby. I almost thought you weren't gonna show up!"

"Grandma!" (Y/N) smiled, engulfing the short woman in a hug. "Missed you so much," she smiled. They had a short conversation before she turned her attention to the six-foot boy behind (Y/N) who had been smiling at their very sweet interaction. "And who's this handsome young man you brought with you, suga?" Harry smiled, his nerves calming somewhat. He introduced himself, going in for a handshake but (Y/N)'s grandma slapped his hand away and pulled him down for a hug professing, you’re family now, act like it boy! "How cute. Oh!-- And muscular too! Chiiiild, wait till ya auntie gets a load of this one. Come on now, the rest of the family's in the backyard. Ya mommas in the kitchen talking shit per usual go help her, baby. I'll take care of Harry." she smiled, wrapping her arm around his. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled at her grandmother's goofy antics and kissed Harry before walking away and assuring him that she'd be in the kitchen if he needed her.

Harry charmed (Y/N)'s grandmother, Kelly (grandma K is what she told him to call her since he was apart of the family now), rather fast. She led him to the back and introduced him to (Y/N)'s uncles, aunts, cousins, and all of her (including great) grandparents. All of them welcomed Harry with open arms. They had so many questions regarding his family and life in the UK, what he did for a living (he was CFO at a major marketing company, they were so proud of his title at such a young age, ya gotta be a stable man while dating our niece! her uncles would say), and his feelings about their (Y/N). An immense amount of aww's was given from the way he talked about her (Y/N's younger cousins, Mikayla and Jordan (ten), thought Harry was so cute and were really just aww'ing at how good he looked). Everyone was easily able to tell how in love Harry was with (Y/N) even though they haven't said it to one another yet (it’s only been three months)

"Harry, I fixed you a plate baby." (Y/N) smiled, interrupting a playful but heated conversation that Harry, her younger cousin Anthony (seventeen), and her father were having about the Chicago Bears and the Green Bay Packers. He smiled and grabbed the plate from her and motioned for her to sit in his lap. He pressed a kiss on her cheek and thanked her. Harry finally felt calm, that is until another short woman stepped in front of the two and began staring him down. It didn't take long for Harry to realize that it was (Y/N)'s mother, the resemblance was uncanny. He nearly choked, becoming nervous yet again. This was the big boss. He thought he was going to be more afraid of (Y/N)'s dad who, though still wary of his little girl dating, (she's twenty- one) loves Harry. He even went as far as to invite Harry to the next super bowl party and he's never done that for any of (Y/N)'s boyfriends!

"(Y/N) who's this?" she questioned.

"Ma, this is Harry, my boyfriend. Harry this is my mom, Christine," Harry stood up to formally greet the woman with a handshake but she, much like her own mother, pulled him down into a bone-crushing hug. For such small women, they both had deadly grips. "Harry, it's so nice to finally meet you! Dunno why (Y/N)'s been hiding you from us, baby." she pinched his cheeks. "You's bout the cutest thing too! Oh my lord!" she grinned. By now Harry was feeling like an idiot, the biggest fucking idiot. (Y/N)'s family had actually taken a liking to him. He did all that worrying for nothing, all that crying to (Y/N) over the phone at 2 AM because he couldn’t sleep for nothing, and spent all that time googling good reasons as to why you can't go to your girlfriends family reunion for nothing!

"What are these?" Harry questioned.

"Those are called greens. It's good I promise." (Y/N) stifled a laugh. He’d been asking a lot of questions about the food simply because he’d never heard of some of it. After swallowing his first bite, he couldn't stop. Harry had devoured three plates of food and somehow managed to fit a serving from both her moms homemade banana pudding and her chocolate pie. "Bloody hell, that was so good." he yawned, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck. "M'sleepy (Y/N)," she giggled, knowing good and well of the after effect of soul food, and kissed the top of his head.

"Damn it, why’d it take you so long to bring him ‘round here (Y/N)!" her aunts asked, playfully slapping her thigh.

"I just didn't wanna rush anything, hop off! And on top of that, I told him he was the first white boy I'd ever brought home and he flipped shit on me! Thought y'all weren't gonna like him!" The lot of them erupted in a fit of laughter. "Oh child, you ain't gotta worry about that. We all love you to pieces. Such a cute thing you are. Better than those ol' raggedy hoodlums she used to bring 'round here before!" her grandmother interjected, swatting at her thigh as well.

"Grandma K! See now why you gotta go and bring them up. That was in high school!" (Y/N) whined, gaining a loud laugh from her grandmother. She'd never been any good at picking boyfriends. None of her family members ever liked any of them, they truly were a bad influence on her.

The rest of the night concluded in her family telling the most embarrassing stories from her childhood to Harry. (Y/N) didn't think they were funny at all but Harry was proper amused. I'm talking doubled over, gasping for air, tears spilling down his cheeks amused. What made it even funnier was how annoyed she was getting, stomping and whining like a two-year-old. "Ugh, man I swear I hate y'all! You're supposed to be on my side Harry!" she shoved him to the ground.

"Baby, stop!" he nearly choked, trying to catch his breath all while laughing and trying to keep his very cute (but very annoyed) girlfriend from attacking him. "(Y/N) stop! You're gonna mess his face up!" Mikayla and Jordan tugged at her shirt, somehow pulling her off of Harry. Now everyone was laughing at the scene.

"M'very sorry for laughing at how you shit on your mum's hand as a baby, love." Harry smiled, kissing all over her face (a tactic he learned that made her forgive him almost immediately). She shoved him back one last time and laughed. "I hate y'all for real!" Harry grinned, settling back in his rather comfortable fold out chair and pulled (Y/N) back onto his lap.

"M'glad we came. I really did all that worrying for nothing, petal. Your family loves me like I knew they would." he joked.

She rolled her eyes, "don't act like you weren't about to shit yourself earlier, big shot." "Lower your voice!" he warned, earning yet another laugh from grandma K.

"No need to get embarrassed suga! I told ya, you's apart of the family now. Now come over here and dance with an old lady," she commanded, gaining a large grin from both Harry and (Y/N).

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