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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge

A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.

Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+

Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.

Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.

You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.

“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.

She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.

“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.

She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.

She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.

“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”

You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…

“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”

You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.

He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.

The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.

Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.

“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”

“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.

You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.

“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”

“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”

“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”

“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”

His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.

“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.

Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.

“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.

“What are you all doing for work now?”

Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.

“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.

“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”

Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.

“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.

“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”

“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”

She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.

“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.

“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.

She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.

A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.

“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.

He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”

What a mystery.

“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.

“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.

“Well, no… just surprised.”

“Astonished.” another pipes up.

“Isn’t that a big word.”

You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”

“Don’t call me little man!”

“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”

They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.

“Hey beautiful,” you greet.

“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.

“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”

“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”

Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.

“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”

She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”

There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.

It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?

“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.

“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”

She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.

“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”

She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”

“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.

You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”

“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.

You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.

“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.

She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.

She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—

“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.

You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”

You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.

The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.

“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.

“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”

You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.

“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”

But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.

“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.

“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.

You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”

“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”

Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”

“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.

It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.

“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”

Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.

“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”

“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”

The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.

“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”

“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”

“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.

Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.

“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”

Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.

You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?

In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.

“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”

Not again.

“Wife; this is Liz.”

“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.

“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”

Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.

“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.

“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.

“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”

“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”

“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.

People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.

“y/n y/l/n!”

Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.

“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”

Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?

“Oh, why?” he asks.

“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.

“Oh!”

The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…

“By the way, that’s totally fine.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”

“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”

“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.

Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…

“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.

“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.

She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.

“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.

A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.

When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”

You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.

“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.

Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.

Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.

“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.

“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”

Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”

“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”

“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.

“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.

You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.

She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.

“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.

You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.

The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”

“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”

“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.

Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.

“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.

“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”

Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.

“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”

You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.

You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.

“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.

“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”

Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.

“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.

Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.

“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.

Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.

You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.

“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.

Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.

“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.

Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.

“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”

She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you

“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”

Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.

The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.

She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.

“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.

Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.

She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.

You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”

Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.

“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.

You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.

First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.

Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.

Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.

“C’mere,” you coax.

The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.

“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.

“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”

You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.

“Ready to blow this place?”

“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”

She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.

“Should we text your brother?”

“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”

She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.

“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.

Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.

You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.

“y/n!”

You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.

“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.

“And you, Miss.”

“Who’s this?”

Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.

“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”

Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.

“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”

“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”

“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”

Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”

“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”

“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”

Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”

You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.

“I love those earrings, by the way.”

“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”

“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.

“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.

Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.

“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.

“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.

You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.

‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’

‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’

These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.

#night manager jed #elizabeth debicki #liz debicki #elizabeth debicki avatars #vita & virginia #elizabeth debicki imagine #elizabeth debicki fanfic #elizabeth debicki x reader #elizabeth debicki smut #elizabeth debicki fluff #elizabeth debicki angst #elizabeth debicki x you #elizabeth debicki tom hiddleston #wlw imagine

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cursebreaker-lilith · 3 years

Text

HC List #4-Wands

Wand HC’s! Mostly focused on the wood since there’s more variety than with the cores.

Also if you have any suggestions for Ismelda, Skye, or Murphy please tell me, because I don’t have their characterizations down as well and I’m not 100% sold on my choices for them!

Rowan

Hornbeam “with a single, pure passion, which some might call obsession (though I prefer the term ‘vision’), which will almost always be realised.” Unicorn hair

I had a lot of trouble with Rowan. I considered, duh, rowan wood, and I believe the former head writer said Rowan had a rowan wand, but I think hornbeam fits. Rowan has a clear ‘vision’ and goals with which to get it, so it seems fitting.

Ben

Black walnut “If the witch or wizard is unable or unwilling to be honest with themselves or others, the wand often fails to perform adequately and must be matched with a new owner if it is to regain its former prowess. Paired with a sincere, self-aware owner, however, it becomes one of the most loyal and impressive wands of all, with a particular flair in all kinds of charmwork.” Phoenix feather

This is sort of inspired by someone who had done a wand wood post then deleted it :’) Anyways, there’s the good at charms bit (Ben’s specialty) but also it just fits Ben’s narrative. He is not someone honest with himself and that affects how he lives his life hugely, so a wand that reflects this problem makes sense. Then a phoenix feather core, because again, Ben’s problem is he has a lot of talent but is held back by himself. If he were to shake off his fears, i think itd be a good match .

Penny

Alder “not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable.” “whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards.” Unicorn hair

Saw the first quote and was immediately like Penny! Then saw the second quote and knew it was Penny’s wand wood. Unicorn because she’s pure .

Merula

Red oak “You will often hear the ignorant say that red oak is an infallible sign of its owner’s hot temper. In fact, the true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect duelling wand.” Dragon heartstring

She fits that first part. hot temper, a good dueler, fast reactions, all very Merula. And she pairs it with dragon heartstring for extra power and ease to do darker spells.

Bill

Poplar “‘If you seek integrity, search first among the poplars,’ was a great maxim of my grandfather, Gerbold Ollivander, and my own experience of poplar wands and their owners tallies exactly with his. Here is a wand to rely upon, of consistency, strength and uniform power, always happiest when working with a witch or wizard of clear moral vision.” Dragon heartstring

It’s like Penny, I saw the description and immediately went Bill! Literally everything about that description fits Bill very well. Dragon heartstring, as its considered to do more powerful spells. As for some hc’s, I feel he’s one of the few Weasley’s to get his own wand just because he’s the oldest so he kind of gets everything new.

Tulip

Dogwood “Dogwood wands are quirky and mischievous; they have playful natures and insist upon partners who can provide them with scope for excitement and fun.” “when paired with a suitably clever and ingenious witch or wizard, can produce dazzling enchantments.” Dragon heartstring

I wavered between giving dogwood to Tonks and sycamore to Tulip but in the end I put dogwood for Tulip because I saw “clever and ingenious” and immediately thought of Tulip over Tonks (not that Tonks isn’t clever, but Tulip is more proud of her cleverness). Plus I thought of a wand much more known for mischief would delight her in rebelling against her parents. (I know the former head writer said her wand is meant to be cherry wood and a hand me down from her grandmother, but I like Tulip having her own wand. Fits with her sense of independence better.)

Tonks

Sycamore “The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager for new experience and losing brilliance if engaged in mundane activities.” “As may be deduced, the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and adventurous,” Unicorn hair

Like with Tulip above, both could fit either girl, but certain words made me choose these woods. for Tonks, it was the use of “curious” and “adventure.” Tulip rebels to break rules, but Tonks just likes fun and adventure, so this felt a better fit.

Barnaby

English oak “A wand for good times and bad, this is a friend as loyal as the wizard who deserves it. Wands of English oak demand partners of strength, courage and fidelity. Less well-known is the propensity for owners of English oak wands to have powerful intuition, and, often, an affinity with the magic of the natural world, with the creatures and plants that are necessary to wizardkind for both magic and pleasure.” Dragon heartstring

Another one where I instantly put the wood to a character. With perhaps the exception of the “intuition” bit, every part just screams Barnaby. Loyal? Yes. Strong? Yup. Courageous? Deffo. Loyal again? Mhm. Affinity for natural world? Totally. And dragon heartstring for extra power.

Ismelda

Yew “Yew wands are among the rarer kinds, and their ideal matches are likewise unusual, and occasionally notorious. The wand of yew is reputed to endow its possessor with the power of life and death, which might, of course, be said of all wands; and yet yew retains a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in the spheres of duelling and all curses.” Unicorn hair

I had a lot of trouble with Ismelda. This probably isn’t what i’ll settle on tbh but it’s good enough. It’s sort of like her. Has a dark reputation but is much lighter on the inside.

Charlie

Ash “Those witches and wizards best suited to ash wands are not, in my experience, lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes. However, the brash or over-confident witch or wizard, who often insists on trying wands of this prestigious wood, will be disappointed by its effects. The ideal owner may be stubborn, and will certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant.” Unicorn hair

Charlie does have a canon wand for this period, which is Ron’s wand. Probably coincidentally, but the ash tree description fits him well, so I do like to think that the second wand he gets after he graduates was also ash. And a hc note, I like to think the wand Ron had was also a hand me down to Charlie. No way that wand got that bad in only 7 years, even if Charlie is a bit rough and tumble. Plus if it was a personal wand, why would he give it away? So, yea, he graduated, got enough money for a new wand and Ron received his old one.

Andre

Spruce “The spruce wand requires a firm hand, because it often appears to have its own ideas about what magic it ought to be called upon to produce. However, when a spruce wand meets its match – which, in my experience, is a bold spell-caster with a good sense of humour – it becomes a superb helper, intensely loyal to their owners and capable of producing particularly flamboyant and dramatic effects.” Unicorn hair

I had a hard time with Andre, but this called to me best with him. I thought adjectives like ‘bold’ ‘good sense of humour’ ‘flamboyant’ all fit well with him.

Jae

Redwood “redwood wands are not themselves lucky, but are strongly attracted to witches and wizards who already possess the admirable ability to fall on their feet, to make the right choice, to snatch advantage from catastrophe.” Dragon heartstring

I struggled a lot with Jae unable to decide if I wanted him to have Redwood or Fir. He always had dragon heartstring, but I couldn’t decide on a wood type. I liked them for pretty much the same reason in that both have an emphasis on coming out on top despite the odds which I think fits Jae. Anyways, I eventually picked redwood because I just liked the description in regards to Jae better aha.

Badeea

Walnut “Highly intelligent witches and wizards ought to be offered a walnut wand for trial first, because in nine cases out of ten, the two will find in each other their ideal mate. Walnut wands are often found in the hands of magical innovators and inventors; this is a handsome wood possessed of unusual versatility and adaptability.” Unicorn hair

I had another one originally, but “innovators and inventors” just fits Badeea much better than what I originally had. Not much else to say.

Liz

Apple “They are powerful and best suited to an owner of high aims and ideals, as this wood mixes poorly with Dark magic. It is said that the possessor of an apple wand will be well-loved and long-lived, and I have often noticed that customers of great personal charm find their perfect match in an applewood wand. An unusual ability to converse with other magical beings in their native tongues is often found among apple wand owners” Unicorn hair

One I took from that post mentioned above as I was rather stuck on Liz. But I do feel it fits. Liz is a Slytherin but is against the idea that Slytherin = dark, so that bit fits, plus she’s all about the magical beings and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was good at speaking mermish and such.

Diego

Red oak ”In fact, the true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect duelling wand. Less common than English oak, I have found that its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive, trademark spells, and a good man or woman to have beside one in a fight. Red oak wands are, in my opinion, among the most handsome.” Unicorn hair

So this is the same as Merula, but I feel he fits the second half of the description while she fits the first. A dueler, quick witted, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a distinctive spell, and I’m sure he agrees that his wand is as handsome as him. He however has a unicorn core as hes much lighter and nicer than Merula.

Talbott

Chestnut “The wand of chestnut is attracted to witches and wizards who are skilled tamers of magical beasts, those who possess great gifts in Herbology, and those who are natural fliers.” Phoenix feather

There was another I considered entirely bc it had like “mysterious loner” in it, but honestly this one sentence screamed Talbott to me. Like, he’s mentioned being great at comc, loves herbology and is one of the best in the class, and I would definitely say he’s a natural flier lol Now with chestnut wands, they change a lot depending on the core. But the description mentions only unicorn hair and dragon heartstring alongside specific descriptions, while the one above is standalone. So I’m assuming its meant to go with phoenix feather, which I would’ve given him anyways. Bird core for a bird boy.

Chiara

Willow “Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it.” Dragon heartstring

It took me a while to decide between willow or hawthorn, both of which mentioned healing and insecruties. Eventually I decided on willow entirely because it’s a paler wood and fits her whole silvery aesthetic.

Bea

Fir “There is no doubt that this wood, coming as it does from the most resilient of trees, produces wands that demand staying power and strength of purpose in their true owners, and that they are poor tools in the hands of the changeable and indecisive.” Phoenix feather

While Bea has a big change, I wouldn’t call her changeable considering she’s sticking with her new style and outlook. And I would call her a survivor. Poor girl’s survived a lot already and she’s only 12. : (((

Skye

Spruce “which produces wands that are ill-matched with cautious or nervous natures, and become positively dangerous in fumbling fingers. The spruce wand requires a firm hand, because it often appears to have its own ideas about what magic it ought to be called upon to produce.” Dragon heartstring

I used this for Andre, but I feel it fits Skye too. She’s very brash and confident (or appears that way) so I feel she would have that firm hand needed.

Murphy

Ebony ”Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider” Unicorn hair

Murphy is very open about how he is who he is, so even though he isn’t an outsider, I feel he has that “courage to be themselves” bit down.

Orion

Beech “The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant.” Unicorn hair

Yet another one where I read one sentence and was like oh that’s them.

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #merula snyde #bill weasley #tulip karasu #and all the others theyre mentioned too #hc list series #text be mine

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babysizedfics · 3 years

Note

2! - 👑

baby vee on the loose in just a diaper

vote from this concept voting post!

warning: this includes tickling and light teasing and is INCREDIBLY adorable

one day vee is in her slightly older headspace that being 18 months - which coincidentally is the age babies start running

now roman (whos not little) and patton are just chilling in romans room talking and waiting for logan to finish changing vee into a diaper so they can all play with the baby

when suddenly they hear a muffled "Vee, sit back- Baby! Baby, no, no no come back! BABY-"

that is followed by quick little footsteps appraching the door and light giggles - then vee pushes the door open, jiji clutched to her chest, dressed in a pink crop top that reads "cute" in rainbow letters and a pink and white diaper and literally nothing else

roman and patton instantly burst out laughing because she toddles into the room so quickly but shes so wobbly! wearing a diaper makes it hard to walk for her because of the thick padding so she really is toddling like a baby

and she immediately darts to the bed where roman is sitting propped against the headboard and he hurriedly opens his arms just in time for her to literally collapse on his chest and wriggle around to straddle his lap, all while squeaking in laughter

"heya, titch," roman giggles, holding her steady. "did you escape, huh?" and he feels so delighted and amused that her diaper is on full display and is crinkling loudly when vee giggles and wriggles.

"Vee?? Baby, where are you?!" logan sounds panicked in the hallway

"in here loganberry!" patton chuckles, his phone pulled out and clearly capturing a ton of photos of this moment

but vee whines and quickly hides her face in romans shoulder and covers her head with jiji

Roman giggles "whatcha doin, baby?"

and she responds from her hiding place "umbibible"

"youre what?" patton frowns, still smiling though

roman chuckles understanding what she means "are you invisible?"

vee nods and squeals in delight. "shh shh bimbible!"

"ohh okay, shh shh" roman whispers and nods very seriously and cradles the back of her shoulders and diaper to hold her safe and help her hide. "invisible"

logan suddenly bursts in looking stressed as heck and sighs in relief when he sees vee in romans lap

"hey specs, whats got you so frazzled?" roman asks and bites his lip to contain his laughter

after a brief moment taking a deep breath and running his hand back through his hair, logan has recomposed himself. "hello roman. Could you do me a favor and hand over the baby in your lap?"

then roman frowns. "what baby?"

vee giggles and buries her head more in romans neck. he doesnt mind the slight ache at all

logan smiles humourlessly. "very funny, but I need to get her dress on"

"i dont think it would fit you, honey" patton jokes from behind his phone.

roman snorts

logan stares at patton, expressionless

and then roman notices that the way patton holds the camera is so obvious he is taking a VIDEO of this exchange. roman hugs vee tighter with pride

"okay, i really do need to get the baby dressed though" logan insists to roman with a little smile

roman makes a show of looking around the room, avoiding looking down at the adorable mound of pink and white in his lap. "sorry, i dont see any baby"

vee squirms and her diaper crinkles loudly. then they all hear the tiniest babyish whisper. "bimbible"

they're all trying so hard not to laugh now, logan is like biting his cheek to stop smiling and sternly says "roman, I need to get your baby sibling dressed"

"logan i literally have no idea where she is!"

vee giggles and kicks her feet lightly in excitemnt

a choked laugh escapes patton before he scrunches his face to stop it, and logan closes his eyes, his face twitching with the effort not to laugh. romans the best at holding in laughter but he's close to breaking he can tell

"okahay" logan says with a concealed chuckle. "okay, then. roman can you please help me find the baby?"

roman gasps dramatically. "logan, you lost the baby?! What kind of a mother are you!!"

and vee suddenly squeals loud and highpitched into romans shoulder and wiggles so much that shes basically vibrating with excitement

everyone silently wheezes at the reaction: logan slams his hand over his mouth and has to hold the wall for support, romans head drops back in a silent scream of laughter and cradles vees head, and pattons eyes squint shut and the camera wobbles as he shakes with silent chuckles

at that point patton knows they need to wrap this up or they'll either burst into loud laughter and risk startling vee, or they'll all run out of breath from trying to hold it back

"if there was a baby in here," he laughs as gently as he can, "then surely she would be invisible, right roman?"

roman agrees "yes obviously, patton" and he sways gently cradling vee because she was constantly squeaking and squirming and they dont want her getting too overexcited

again, vee giggles "bimbible, bimbible!" still hiding in romans shoulder

of course that gives logan an idea

he approaches the bed "well im afraid theres only one way to find invisible babies" he starts very solemnly and perches on the edge of the mattress next to roman and totally not a totally visible baby

then he smiles. "is sheeeee... over here?" he asks, fluttering just one finger over her neck and vee squeaks and pulls jiji down to cover her neck

roman smiles and strokes her now visible purple hair

"hmm" logan hums in thought as patton gets up from the beanbag to get a better angle to film this whole debacle. logan smiles at the camera mischievously for a moment, apparently forgetting his camera shyness in the excitement

"is she perhaps here?" and he scribbles all fingers of one hand over the exposed back of her knee

vee giggles melodically and quickly folds her legs up into romans lap - but her toes are scrunching happily. shes no longer hidden in romans shoulder but is still curled up against his chest and is hiding her face with jiji

"I think I know where the baby is~" logan sings teasingly, and everyone beams and giggles at the way vee wiggles so much that roman has to curl his arms all the way around her and her diaper to stop her from wriggling right off his lap

"she must be...." logan draws it out, wiggling all ten fingers towards her back. "over here!"

logans fingertips land just above the hem of vee's diaper, settling on her sides and the back of her ribs and scribbling and spiralling gently - the diaper hem rustles loudly under his fingers but thats nothing compared to the reaction from vee

she positively screeches with squeaky laughter, dropping jiji instantly to reveal her flushed cheeks and her scrunched up happy eyes and her big big gummy smile! she wriggles around so much and flaps jiji in the air excitedly

and everyone coos "THERE SHE IS~ 💞" in unison

...

when they finish with the tickling and the giggling, logan finally gets vee back in her room to get dressed... but she whines and pouts whenever he tried to put any kind of skirt or pants on her

try as he might logan literally cannot convince vee to wear anymore clothes than she's already wearing - so for a compromise he simply puts on her ruffly white diaper cover !

patton absolutey bursts with love and adorableness when he sees her all smiley and blushy and wriggly in her cute poofy diaper cover and roman giggles and thinks about how much fun it'll be to remind vee about this tomorrow >:3c

for the entire day everyone is just so giggly because vee is in the most playful happy baby mood, she loves not wearing any pants or skirts and keeps wiggling on her butt to hear the diaper crinkles and kicking her bare legs in excitement and squeals

...

the next morning roman absolutely follows through on his promise to himself and tells vee all about it

vee is so so embarrassed, blushing like mad and hiding her face behind logans shoulder as everyone smiles and tries not to giggle too hard at her reaction

"oh my god, why didnt anyone dress me??"

"you put up quite a fight" logan says so casually it almost sounds like he isnt grinning ear to ear. "youre very persuasive when you pout, princess"

vee pulls away from him with a very appropriate pout

"aww come on dont be embarrassed," patton coos "you were the most adorable little baby in the world yesterday with your poofy little diaper butt"

"dad!" vee squeaks in indignation

everyone giggles at her reaction (and roman sees her lips twitch up in a hidden smile)

roman leans to whisper in her ear "i think you like it~"

"stoooop" vee whines and buries her burning cheeks against romans shoudler instead

big mistake

"wow déja vu" roman chuckles "i guess youre not straddling my lap this time though - all wriggly and giggly and crinkly"

vee pulls back form him with a bewildered look "i was in your lap? and i was only wearing--"

"well sure!" patton chuckles as though its ridiculous vee is even questioning it. "i dunno why youre so suprised, you always sit in your brothers lap. OH I can show you the video to prove it!" and he pulls out his cellphone and starts searching for the video

"i dunno pat, are you sure it will help to watch the video?" roman asks

and for a MILLISECOND vee thinks roman is actually for once showing her mercy

then he smiles at her. "i mean she was 'bimbible', I dunno if you wouldve caught her on camera"

"thats very true," logan nods, sipping his coffee with a smirk "though it might be worth reviewing the footage purely for research purposes"

patton laughs "oh of course, we really have to check if you can see 'bimbible' babies on camera... oop, i think we can!"

patton beams and holds up his phone to show a picture of vee curled up against romans chest, half-naked and with romans hands curled round her shoulders and the top of the diaper, his head thrown back and clearly in the midst of delighted laughter

vee squeaks and pulls minty from their seat at the breakfast table to bury her face in them. "youre my only ally minty" she whispers into their fluff as the family all coo over the adorable photos

#guys i think ive done it i think this is the cutest concept #little/big concepts #fam ily tickles #agere virgil #little virgil #cg logan #cg patton #sanders sides agere #ts agere #asks #👑 anon #long post

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angstyaches · 3 years

Text

Drop

Again, this is quite heavy for this blog. Please heed the warnings! DM me for a summary, if you don’t want to actually read it because of any of the tags (I’ll make a post if anyone asks on anon). Stay safe, friends.

CW: disordered eating mention, alcohol, heights (inc. character struggling with fear of heights), angsty and dark thoughts, relationship problems being discussed, very brief but intense death ideation, mention of gore/injury (described by character, not real), danger of falling, mention of broken glass, emeto, food mention, blood mention

___

Shayne had hoped the bad thoughts would take longer to find him, but they were waiting for him just on the other side of his bedroom door in the townhouse. For the past two weeks, he’d eaten three meals a day with Charlie at his parents’ house, even if some of them were small, and he’d been imagining himself keeping it up once he got back, but now that he was alone, the shame and the feeling of helplessness that had always surrounded food came flooding back.

When dinner time rolled around that evening (he knew it was dinner time because his stomach remembered), he felt Madelyn’s phantom breath on his neck and ignored the hunger. He crawled into his bed and tried forcing himself to sleep before his body could realise it was being deprived.

But god, he was just a needy, greedy little black hole of a creature, a sap on the world so long as you’re not fulfilling your duty, an insult to flesh and bone, nothing but darkness and hunger and waste and –

Shayne sat up in bed and squeezed his head between his hands. He’d gotten so used to Charlie’s constant presence and warmth, that he was already feeling unbearably lonely without him.

Stupid Charlie, he thought, feeling a flutter of affection in his chest as he pictured Charlie’s head resting on his shoulder. And then, a sinking feeling.

In the absence of Madelyn’s voice in his head, Shayne realised how… quiet everything else was. Ryan and Nancy were probably still travelling in Europe, but Elliott and Felix should have been here.

He’d half-expected Felix to come pounding on his door around this time, raving about whatever he was cooking and asking questions about Shayne’s Christmas. But the fact that the townhouse was this silent was extremely unpleasant.

Shayne let himself into the hallway, pausing and holding his breath, scanning for any signs of life. He could have done this easily if he’d been in a forest, but houses and urban settings were always trickier. He picked up a flash of something, a thrum of a heartbeat, but it sent his head spinning and he had to stop concentrating. It seemed to be coming from Elliott and Felix’s room, even though he hadn’t heard a single stir in there since he’d gotten home.

“Hello?” he asked softly, pushing the door open slowly.

He wasn’t surprised that it was cold in the bedroom beyond, but a breeze took him right in the face. Papers had been gently blown across the floor, and a vase holding a fake rose had been knocked from the windowsill onto the floor.

Nobody was in here. This wasn’t where he’d sensed somebody.

The view of the town was incredible from this height, four storeys up. It was around dusk, so there were lights blinking to life in houses and office buildings even as Shayne stood by the open window and rested his hands on the sill.

“Elliott?” he called out quietly, leaning his head outside. The distance from his face to the street below was dizzying.

“The fuck do you want?” came a curt reply, which made Shayne look to his right. The moulding on the outside of the building was about a metre wide, enough for Elliott to slump against the brick wall with a glass balanced on his knee and a bottle grasped in the opposite hand.

His hair was loose of its usual ponytail, as well as being greasy and dishevelled from having fingers constantly dragged through it. He was scraping it back with his left hand at that very moment, eyes glazed over as he looked up at the sky.

“When’d you get back?”

“Uh, today. Earlier.” Shayne could hear how high-pitched his voice had gotten, but what could he do about it? He couldn’t stop wondering how Elliott’s weight wasn’t forcing him to slink further down, legs pulling him over the edge. “El, what are you doing? Someone’s gonna see you out there.”

“So?” Elliott shrugged. “Maybe I’ll become a Reddit legend.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Shayne sighed. “What’re you doing out there? Are you okay?”

Elliott blinked, the motion slowed by the darkness and an unknown amount of whisky. “Come here, and I’ll show you.”

Shayne would have really preferred not to, but it didn’t look like Elliott was coming to him anytime soon. He turned around and sat up into the windowsill, slowly shifting his legs around so his feet touched the moulding. He breathed hard, tried not to look at the fall below, and told himself that if it could hold Elliott’s weight, it could hold his.

“You know, inside, there are floors and – and chairs,” he stammered, edging closer to Elliott before lowering himself to a seated position. He didn’t slump like Elliott though; his hands were pressing the concrete, stiff as pillars. “Lots of nicer and safer places to sit and drink whisky.”

“Mmph.”

The words barely seemed to reach Elliott’s ears.

“So, what’s up?” Shayne asked.

When Elliott smiled, it was a sick thing that twisted the lower half of his face without touching the rest. He looked past the rim of his glass and out across the town. Shayne wouldn’t have been surprised if his glare had caused a sudden flash of lightning to tear through the clouds.

The silence seemed to press in further, the sound of traffic fading away as though a bubble had descended on the rooftop.

“Where’s… Felix?” Shayne already had the feeling that the answer wasn’t going to be good.

“I don’t know.” Elliott pursed his lips. “Think he’s left me.”

A cold stone seemed to drop through Shayne’s stomach. He couldn’t begin to imagine what the equivalent of that felt like for Elliott. “What? Why?”

After a slight roll of his eyes, Elliott reached into the pocket of his trousers, fidgeting with something before pulling out a ring. He twirled it between his thumb and his figure, examining it up-close for a second before holding it out.

“Oh.” Shayne eyed the ring for a moment before reluctantly lifting one hand – one of his supportive pillars – and letting Elliott place it in his palm. “I take it he said no?”

“No, he didn’t say no. He didn’t say… anything.”

“Is that – is that better, or worse?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Sorry, El.” Shayne gulped and stared at the ring, only managing to hold onto it for a couple of seconds. Elliott had already taken his eyes off of it, his attention snagged by his drink again. A slight breeze across his skin made Shayne shudder, as though it could possibly throw him off balance. Mostly, it was just cold and unpleasant. “Here, take it back. I’m gonna drop it or something.”

“Why would you drop it?” Elliott asked with a grunt, reaching to pick up the ring. His fingertips lingered a moment as he realised how badly Shayne’s hand was trembling. “Fuck, man, are you okay?”

“Mmm.” Shayne put his hand down next to him again, fingers aching under the pressure he was putting on them.

“What’s up?” Elliott scoffed lightly. “You gonna hurl?”

“Maybe,” Shayne admitted. “I’ve never been up this high before.”

“Jesus, you’re such a drama queen.” Elliott planted a hand down and pushed himself to his feet. His movements were as swift and graceful as a panther, even while drunk, and he seemed to tower unreasonably high over Shayne as he straightened his back and stretched his arms over his head. He almost reached the roof tiles that jutted out over the top floor. A strong gust of wind could probably have toppled him, especially considering how much whisky was probably flooding his system.

Elliott’s feet made a scraping sound on the concrete as he lowered his arms, laughing deep in his chest.

“Elliott, stop! Just sit the fuck down.”

“Why?” Elliott’s voice was no stronger than a breath. He closed his eyes for a worrying amount of time, his shoulders swaying slightly as his arms hung by his side like weights. “Would you care if I fell?”

Shayne got a sinking feeling, for what seemed like the hundredth time in ten minutes. “What kind of question is that?”

“Do you think I’d die, actually?” Elliott perked up again, unnervingly so. He opened his eyes and lifted his glass slightly. He craned his neck to look over the edge of the moulding. He hummed, like he was pondering whether he should buy a pair of shoes in black or in brown. “I’m fairly sure that fully-developed vampires can only die if they’re burned alive, but… I wonder how thoroughly that’s been tested.”

“Elliott –”

“I’ve had a decent run. In human years, I’m almost seventy, you know? That’s longer than a lot of people end up with…”

Shayne didn’t know if he should have been trying to grab Elliott to stop him from teetering so close to the edge, or if that would make everything worse. He could barely breathe, let alone think.

“It’d still fucking hurt either way, though.” Elliott threw back the last mouthful of his drink and smacked his lips. “Bones poking up through my organs, probably bits of me exploding on impact –”

“Elliott, seriously, you’re just being an asshole now, just sit down!”

“Would it make him come back, if I was injured like that?” Elliott demanded, his golden eyes piercing and intense. He was beginning to lapse into clumsy arm gestures, his voice rising higher with emotion. “Would it put everything into perspective, Shayne? Would it fix everyone’s problems if I was maimed? Or if I was completely and utterly de–?”

Shayne’s stomach turned, his hands flying to his face, as the whisky glass shuddered and dropped out of Elliott’s hand. It disappeared from view, faster than the sick grin could fall from Elliott’s face.

The shatter was tiny; Shayne had to really strain his ears to hear it. He watched Elliott blink tears down his face and slowly lower himself to his haunches. He opened his mouth wide, like he was going to scream, but no sound came out.

“Hey,” Shayne whispered, letting go of a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He stretched out one hand, trying to gently catch Elliott’s attention. “El. Elliott.”

Elliott didn’t move. He stayed crouched, one hand gripping the edge of the moulding, his face hovering over the side. When he blinked, tears fell and missed the building completely, dropping straight to the sidewalk that was four storeys down.

“El, come on.”

All the way down to the sidewalk –

“Elliott.”

He turned his head, swaying a little, and for a moment Shayne thought that was it, that he was gone, he’d lost his balance. Shayne sat forward on his heels, instinctively making an uncalculated grab for his cousin’s hand, but luckily Elliott was reaching back too; two fumbling hands happened to fumble in the right directions at the right time.

“Fuck,” Elliott whimpered, steadying himself on his feet again. Shayne could feel both their pulses in their joined hands, Elliott’s almost explosive. “We should… We should probably get off this thing.”

“Oh, you think?” Shayne snapped, though he clung to Elliott’s hand like a toddler to a parent as the two of them edged back over towards the window. He hopped in through the window first, turning to make sure Elliott was following him. The taller man hit his head on the open window, making the frame shudder as he shut his eyes and winced.

“Shit, are you okay?” Shayne held out a hand to help him make it the rest of the way.

“I’m fine, get off me,” Elliott growled, shoving Shayne away from him and storming over to the bed.

“Fuck heights,” Shayne murmured, pulling the window shut with more force than was probably necessary. It released some of the fear that had been pinching his nerves though, and his head felt clearer. “We should probably go down to the street and clean that glass up before someone –”

“Shut up.”

Shayne shrugged, gazing at Elliott as he sat at the edge of his bed, head resting in his hands. “Is – is your head okay, or –?”

“What’d I just say?”

“You said to shut up, but how the fuck do you expect me not to ask you if you’re okay? You almost fell off the fucking… roof!” Shayne smacked his hand on the bedpost as he walked by, partially on purpose. “Fuck you, Elliott.”

“Calm down, man,” Elliott snarled, his head shooting up from his hands. “Come on, you seriously think that’s the closest I’ve ever come to dying?”

“You can’t…” Shayne stopped by the door to the hallway, eyes lowered. “You can’t do shit like that, you can’t talk like that. I don’t care if he’s left you, if the world’s falling to shit, if you think nobody cares about you being around, you can’t…”

A sob broke the air, and Shayne froze, turning to watch as Elliott hunched over at the edge of the bed, his head ducking and disappearing from his silhouette.

“I’m… sorry.”

Having never heard such a heart-wrenching sound from Elliott before, Shayne found himself hurrying back to the bed. He sat down next to Elliott and let him sink his head against his shoulder and cry, his body convulsing with what seemed to be days’ worth of pent-up agony and sadness. Shayne felt utterly useless; he couldn’t guarantee that everything would be alright with Felix, because how the hell could he possibly know that?

“Ugh, fuck,” Elliott exclaimed, his shoulders jerking forward with a sob so deep that it sounded more like a hiccup. He clamped a hand over his mouth, the other lifting to tentatively cover the front of his head, where he’d hit it on the window.

“You okay, man?” Shayne asked hoarsely.

Elliott shook his head, face paling even in the dull light.

“You gonna hurl?” Shayne murmured, wondering if the irony would be lost on Elliott in his current state. He was already getting to his feet, remembering that Felix kept a metal bin under his desk.

“Mmmph.” Elliott nodded furiously, only releasing his mouth from his hand once Shayne had thrust the bin at him. Saliva glistened on his lips as he hovered, breathing heavily. His eyes were red and swollen and he was still gently kneading his head.

A deep retch rolled his shoulders and made him duck his head further into the bin. Shayne grimaced and almost put a hand on Elliott’s shoulder before remembering that that would have been a terrible idea. He stood by the desk instead, arms folded around his waist, flinching in time with Elliott’s horrifying gagging.

When Elliott’s face resurfaced, he was gasping and spitting out mouthfuls of thick bile and saliva, tinged only slightly with the golden hue of the heavy liquor.

“Jesus,” he choked out. “How hard did I hit my head?”

After a disbelieving glance towards the window, Shayne scoffed. “Your head? What about the god-knows-how-much whisky in your system right now?”

“Alright, whatever,” Elliott groaned. He pawed at a thick strand of his hair that was stuck to the side of his face and trailing into the bin itself, tossing it over his shoulder. Just in time too, since the next retch was deep and abrupt and dragged a rumbling belch up alongside a gush of foamy alcohol and stomach acid.

Between gags, Elliott let thick liquid drip from his mouth into the bin, body shivering with the effort it took to bring everything up. It went on for so long that Shayne was certain Elliott was going to fall asleep with his head in the bin.

Eventually, Elliott sat upright, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand and dragging it across the lower half of his face. He tossed it into the bin and reached for another one.

“Want me to get you some water? Or, like, blood?”

“No.” Elliott sighed deeply, dropping the second tissue into the bin before he began to scoop his hair back from his face and neck. “I’ve been drinking on an empty stomach for two days. I wanna go get chips.”

“Chips?”

“Yes. Can you grab one of Felix’s scrunchies from his side?”

Shayne did as he was asked, mostly in a daze, rounding the bed to get to Felix’s bedside locker. There was a pile of hair ties sitting alongside a handheld cassette player.

“Can you even eat?” Shayne asked, leaning across the bed to hand one of the hair ties to Elliott. “You know, with all of your full-vampire shit going on?”

“Seriously, you little asshole?” Elliott snapped, his voice scratchy and weak. “My life is falling down around me and you’re trying to deny me chips?”

Shayne quickly shook his head, a little bit grateful for the bloodcurdling glare that Elliott was currently treating him to. He got up from the bed again as Elliott tended to his hair. “Let me just grab a jacket.”

#idk how I originally wanted it to end but I can't look at it anymore #Swallow the World #StW Thicker than Blood #vampire emeto #emeto #emeto fic #emeto sickfic #angst fic #angst #death mention #death ideation mention #alcohol #alcohol mention

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twilightofthejedi · 3 years

Text

fic: sorry to my unknown lover (wip)

He has never considered himself much of a religious man. His upbringing was in a Catholic family, so he went to mass with his family, but he had never found solace in religion like his late adoptive father had. And after he had joined the mafia, there had been too many stains on his soul for him to even consider the supposed blissful salvation of God.

But with Cha-young, he is somehow prepared to repent for all of his sins, if she would just be his heaven and hell.

or, what if vincenzo had been kidnapped by han-seok in ep 19 instead of cha-young?

inspired by this post by @ppppppenguin and @my-bated-breath

read chapter 1 on ao3 here or under the cut ꜜ

chapter 1: kristallnacht

Calling the monk had not, in hindsight, been his smartest move.

He allows himself to sulk on his couch for approximately two minutes before pushing himself up to pace. She had completely blindsided him with the makeup, and the jewelry, and the shiny straight hair that had swayed as she walked away from him, and now he can not feasibly think about anything else. She had baited and switched him, and he had been helpless to her every move.

There are a million things he needs to do. He needs to call Luca to make sure his dealings with the Lucianos had gone well. He needs to talk to Agent Ahn and Mr. Cho to make sure that the NIS is working with them to keep Han-seok in jail. He needs to pay another visit to Choi Myung-hee, as per Cha-young’s plans.

But right now, he cannot physically bring himself to do anything but think of the fact that Cha-young is currently wearing the earrings that he had bought her.

Madre di Dio, he is royally screwed.

But with Cha-young, he is somehow prepared to repent for all of his sins, if she would just be his heaven and hell.

Get a grip on yourself, Cassano.

He inhales, and then lets out a long breath. Time to get to work.

There are geraniums for sale in the flower shop down the street from the plaza.

Vincenzo had met up with Mr. Cho to make sure that their plans were set, and as he had been walking back from the rendezvous point, he had seen the flowers, and had wandered into the shop like he was in a trance.

It’s not a secret that Cha-young loves geraniums. She buys a bouquet every few days to keep in the crystal vase in her house(the one with the curled edges), and always complains whenever the store increases the price. He has grown used to listening to her rant about it when she comes to work in the morning, coffee in hand. Now, he stares at the bunches of bright red flowers and wonders exactly how to store flowers.

“Good afternoon! How can I help you?” The cheery store clerk has seen him, and descends upon him like a vulture. Twenty minutes later, holding three bouquets of not only geraniums, but also peonies, and a lily-of-the-valley and baby’s breath combination, he wonders at the persuasive abilities of people in the retail industry, and thinks idly that flower shop owners would make excellent lawyers.

He takes his time walking back to the plaza, where he will surely attract attention by walking through the halls with the enormous bouquets in his arms. He meanders through the streets of Seoul as the night awakens, hungry and powerful in its cover, spreading its inky fingers throughout the dusky sky. The world ebbs and flows around him, underneath the twinkling night sky. On the streets, he is just one more face, one more person, with his own story alongside millions of other stories, millions of other people, millions of other faces.

His own insignificance against the backdrop of the city is, in a way, comforting. Here, Vincenzo has no one to answer to, no one to ask him questions he cannot answer, no one except the vast sky and endless stretch that peek into his soul and pull out the parts of him that he does not know. The colors that he cannot change, the stories that he cannot explain.

Before he knows it, he is staring at the dark office of the firm, wondering where on earth they keep their vases. Hong Yu Chan, the plant lover that he was, must have kept flowers in vases, right?

A phone call to Mr. Nam later, Vincenzo concludes that Hong Yu Chan did not, in fact, keep flower vases in his office.

He spends ten minutes considering whether or not to call Cha-young, and then realizes that he is manufacturing a reason to talk to her. Setting the flowers down on the cool tabletop of the office, he looks up where to buy a flower vase, and then leaves the building feeling extremely foolish but having no idea why.

He buys the vase and begins the walk back to the plaza. He is just about to leave an alleyway when he feels a terrific pain in the back of his head. The vase falls from his suddenly limp fingers and falls to the ground with a crash, and he feels the sharp impact of his knees on the ground.

The last thing he sees before his eyes close is a gray hood, and floppy brown hair.

Hong Cha-young slides into the driver’s seat of her car, feeling supremely satisfied at a night well spent.

First she had completely flustered Vincenzo before she had left. Then, she had gone to the reunion and made sure that everyone was jealous of her. To top it all off, there had been excellent alcohol there, and she had taken full advantage of the open bar, and listened to everyone gripe about their jobs, or their kids, or their irritating spouses.

She sets her phone in the built in stand, and pulls out of her parking spot. The night air is warm, so she rolls down the windows and lets the smell of street food waft in. Seoul’s nightlife is vibrant, even more so in the summer, and she smiles at the people milling out on the sidewalks. She spots a noodle stand, and makes a mental note to bring Vincenzo there and buy him the spiciest noodles.

Just as she is pulling into her designated parking spot in Geumga Plaza(it’s still marked Hong Yu Chan), her phone beeps. She smirks to herself. She’s surprised Vincenzo lasted this long without texting her, but it’s sweet that he couldn’t hold off longer. She unplugs her phone, and lets the screen light up.

Joon-woo: 2 new messages

The screen seems to shake before she realizes its her own shaking fingers, and she sets the phone down on the center console, unbuckling herself with fingers that will not stay still. How is it that she still hasn’t changed the contact name? The heart emoji that he had put in after his name on his first day as her hoobae is still there, and she feels a rush of freezing anger at herself, at her weakness. She exhales shakily, and unlocks her phone.

Hi sunbae! Did you miss me? the message reads.

Attached with the text is an image. She downloads it impatiently, morbidly drawn to the screen like a moth to a flame. She knows that she will burn, that she will end up nothing more than ashes on a whispering wind if she does not stop and just think, but Cha-young has a horrible sinking feeling.

The image is of Vincenzo.

The picture has been taken from the ground, and the first thing that she sees is the glass. Thousands of shards of clear glass, stained dark red, on the ground. In the background, slightly blurred, she can see Vincenzo sprawled on the ground, blood matted in his hair.

In between her quickening breaths and blurring eyes, all Cha-young can think of is how much, in the picture, Vincenzo looks like the fallen heroine in one of the tragic operas that Vincenzo had dragged her along to. In the last act, as the music turns frenzied and faster, and then reaches a crescendo, and then falls to nothing more than a single sustained note of a violin, a lone lament to the dead.

The image has a caption.

Night of Broken Glass.

#vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #chayenzo #jang han seok #chayenzo fanfic #my writing #my fic #ao3

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

redeemed

pairing | m!raleigh x mc

word count | 6.6k

warnings | cursing, innuendos, mentions of sex

tags | @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura, @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink [tagging people who usually ask to be tagged !]

author’s note | i’ve talked about this before but i’m not a huge fan of the platinum mc’s personality, so i’ve kind of crafted my own that’s quite a bit more rebellious than canon. i’m obsessed with the idea of an mc who’s romancing raleigh and falls into the same pattern of behavior and it genuinely concerns them – so yeah i play with that idea here! i deviate from canon some but not too much ! this is my submission for day 2 of @platinumweekend as well ! also i had no idea how to end this so i apologize for the fizzle out at the end lol

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As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

She slammed the door behind her, locking it, running to the windows and closing the curtains, peeking out at the paparazzi that no doubt had already tried flocking at the edges of the blocked off area where the bus was parked.

“Damn, what’s the problem? Can’t I at least get my food from craft services? Jesus,” he complained, grabbing a bottle of water from the fully stocked mini fridge, downing it while Fiona frantically ran around the bus, turning off every electrical device in sight.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She wheeled on him, a few strands of her hair sticking to her lips. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, you won’t let me go get my fuckin’ overpriced grilled cheese that I know is waiting for me,” he jabbed his thumb towards the venue. “At craft services.”

She eyed him, pupils wide, her anger nearly palpable. “It’s bigger than food.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, some strands completely drenched in sweat. “Lay it on me.”

And the three words that fell from her lips were soul crushing, his post-show high wearing off in an instant.

“Dom’s been arrested.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He sat up, posture rigid. “What happened?”

“Not here. We’ll talk on the plane,” Fiona said, twisting the knob of the closet door, grabbing the black duffel bag on the ground. She tossed it at his feet, motioning for him to stand. “The jet leaves in an hour. I packed for you.”

“The plane? Where is she?” He was getting more and more frustrated, nearing hysterics. He should’ve felt a bit more shame about how worked up he was getting, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Fiona took notice, her fiery gaze softening at the edges, the blue flames flickering across his face. “Not here, Raleigh.”

He slung the duffle bag on his shoulder, walking to the door.

“Wait –” Fiona said, leaning over the couch to pull the curtain to the side, peering out again. “I paid off a security guard to distract the paparazzi. And when he does, we have to run to the car that’s gonna pull up any minute now – undetected,” she shot back at him, her icy gaze warning.

Within minutes, a security guard with a similar build to Raleigh sprinted towards the venue, jacket over his head, paparazzi on his heels.

With the camera’s flashing finally pointed away, they were able to slide into the back of the cab, thankful that Hank had connections everywhere. The driver rolled up the barrier without question as soon as Fiona tossed him a wad of cash that she’d fished out of a plain leather pouch.

She shook the pouch, her lips set in a thin line. “You know what this is?”

“A purse?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Is this some kind of fuckin’ trick?”

“It’s an emergency fund. Cash. Not traceable.”

She shook her head, dropping the pouch into her lap, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “When Dom first started getting into trouble, I had to pay off a few people here and there, but when it became more frequent, I had to actually sit her down with her accountant and sort this out.”

“Sort… what out?”

“How much money she needed to allocate to her… antics,” she rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the back of her seat, hand pressed to her forehead.

She looked drained. Fiona never looked disheveled, but he sensed this was the closest she’d be to it.

“If it’s money she needs, that’s fine. Lemme call my agent –”

“There’s only so much cash I can hand people under the table before it becomes a problem. Not just financially, put publicly,” she sighed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’ve been able to cover up the smaller mishaps, but this, I’m afraid, might be the start of something… much worse than disorderly conduct.”

“You gonna tell me her charges?” His jaw set in anticipation, already running through a list of the best lawyers in L.A. that got him off from potentially hefty lawsuits.

Her short locks swayed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, leaning into the corner of the cab, legs splayed wide as he tried to take a nonchalant stance. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll be glad you have a bedroom, shower, and fridge on the plane,” she said with another shake of her head.

––––

Raleigh laid in bed, aimlessly scrolling through his burner account.

He never really cared for social media under the public eye. Every post of his was either related to tour or the series of brand deals for products he never used. Each page was a personified advertisement – some shit he regretted signing up for.

One drunken night, his curiosity got the best of him and he found himself making a pretty inconspicuous profile, following some funny internet personalities and political commentators. And although he had plans to delete it, once Dom came into the picture, he unabashedly lurked.

He followed her on all platforms, and when he had the chance, he watched her stories, voted in her daily polls, and occasionally scrolled through her old instagram photos.

This time in particular, though, he was looking for something specific without really knowing if there was an answer.

He scrolled to her first post, hundreds down, smiling at high school Dom. Thick eyeliner, layered hair, brace-adorned grin – she was a poster child of adolescence.

Photos of her with Shane at pep rallies, in Halloween costumes, in prom formal wear filled the screen, later transitioning to senior portraits, graduation photos, and dorm photos. A setting of picturesque normality as Dom grew into herself, growing out her choppy layers, softening her makeup, her gleaming smile lighting up each photo.

She grew more beautiful with each year, each little phase of her life coming with a new style, a new little identity or association, Dom’s willingness to try new things the reason she was able to break free from her small town.

God, was Raleigh so fucking envious of this imperfect little portion of her Instagram. If someone were to look this far back for him, there’d be photoshoots and magazine spreads and paparazzi photos all neatly planned. The shaky off-guard photos, the unedited red eyes, the off guard photos, the expressions they made in them… it was something Raleigh never had the chance to do.

Being in the business for ten years, everything was pristine, crisp – always smiling or smoldering, no in between. Sexy and rugged or smiling and happy. Like he had two modes and he wasn’t ever able to exercise those other parts of himself because being in front of the camera was restrictive – while Dom was able to be unabashedly herself.

He was breaking shit just to feel something, to have some range of emotions even if it was a stupid fucking publicity stunt where he damaged property or made out with another politician’s daughter or attempted irreparable blows to his public image.

The more recent the posts, the more calculated her photos got, the phrase “ad” showing up more and more. But even with a skincare brand deal, her step-by-step skincare routine video was on brand for Dom, her bright smile and wit always present in everything she did.

But Raleigh couldn’t help but feel like parts of her were slipping away.

Her online persona was still pretty crisp, except for her style shift – tattoos, a couple piercings, and some edgier photoshoots signified a tonal shift in Dom’s aesthetic, but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

Hell, when he used his first innuendo on his solo album, there was widespread outrage on Sunset Skatepark fan forums, ripping into him for singing about using his dick (even though he was definitely an adult and definitely not a virgin).

But other than her general style, nothing was different. Nothing to indicate this downward spiral that Fiona kept a secret.

Where’s the shift? He thought to himself as he scrolled to the top. When the hell did she start changing for the worse?

She’d come a long way from her clean songs that didn’t require a radio edit. He felt a pang of something in his chest –– regret, maybe? Was he the reason she’d changed?

The questions sent him into a near tailspin, his pulse quickening at the realization.

He was the problem.

She’d since deleted her photos with Raleigh, because their breakup was so public, but he could tell that the shift happened right around the time she started spending more time with him.

He’d been a mentor of sorts, opposite of Avery, showing her the ropes… which meant that he was teaching her how to evade the press, fuck with the paparazzi, pick out industry plants – the whole nine yards.

She was impulsive, daring, adventurous, fearless – all the qualities he liked in himself. But he never thought those traits would take a negative turn, morphing her into a rebel with an affinity for breaking laws.

He could blame himself all he wanted, but he couldn’t blame her for taking the same route he took.

He knew it better than anybody – it was hard to shift the public’s persona of you. Once you did something horrible to make them hate you, either the rebrands and ass kissing worked, or you get written off by everyone.

Raleigh Carrera was a special case, a wild card of sorts who toed the line, unpredictable, both with his craft and his behavior. The nastier his lyrics, the crazier his publicity stunts were, the more polarizing he was.

And that was no doubt the route Dom was on, heading towards an inevitable press nightmare – if people were to find out the home grown rags-to-riches Dominique Avalos dove headfirst into her rebellious phase with no smooth transition, she wouldn’t be able to Google herself for months without having a panic attack.

She’d changed drastically, but that’s what fame did to people. Some people cracked under the pressure, or they rebelled to show the public they were in control of their narrative… or that they desperately wanted it back.

He took a shaky breath, swiping out of the app.

He wasn’t sure if he could save her, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try.

––––

The moment the jet touched down, Fiona was in full manager mode, adamant on abandoning his phone, stressing the importance of going off the grid.

“If anyone finds out you’re here, they’ll be able to put two and two together. Why else would you be in the same country as Dom when you’re supposed to be heading towards New York for your next show?” She asked, hand outstretched.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, tossing his phone into her palm. “Where are we exactly?”

“I can’t tell you,” she sighed, looking exhausted. He had a gut feeling she hadn’t slept a wink since they’d boarded the plane.

“Why not?”

“It’s a bit safer that way.”

He scoffed. “You’re serious? Look, I’m not exactly thrilled to pull the A-List celebrity card, but this is borderline kidnapping.”

“Let’s just say you might be able to pick up on some of the language,” she said, turning on her heel to exit the plane.

Within minutes, they were pulling onto a dirt backroad, the small houses they passed barely casting shadows onto the ground.

The town itself was seemingly innocuous – the tiny brick houses riddled with dust, the stone paths lining the road cracked and deserted. The tiny town had turned in for the night, their old Sedan sticking out like a sore thumb despite the old model.

Raleigh squirmed in his seat, twisting the expensive watch on his wrist. He fucking hated this.

No matter where he went, he was noticed in some capacity – so wearing a Rolex and Cartier rings in a small village in the middle of nowhere just made him look pretentious.

He slipped the rings and watches off, shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans, ignoring Fiona’s calculating side eye (one he knew all too well).

The only light, other than the gas lamp posts and their high beams, came from the building at the end of the road.

The car pulled around the side, flicking their lights off, the driver peeking around before motioning for them to exit the car.

“Throw the hoodie on, Raleigh,” Fiona ordered while slipping on a ball cap of her own, her casual t-shirt and leggings wildly different from her normal outfit.

“Sure,” he murmured, tugging the hood on.

The walk from the car to the dusty glass front door was short, Fiona breaking into a light jog to keep up with Raleigh’s brisk pace.

The makeshift “waiting room” in the front corner of the station was empty, the scratched up folding chairs in crooked rows. The front desk was occupied by a sleeping form, head buried in the crease of his elbow, snore muffled by the counter top.

The other officer stood at the back near an old vending machine, sliding coins into the slot, the clink of each piece ringing out against the brick and linoleum.

No cameras, he thought, after a quick scan of the room, shoving the hood back in its place at the nape of his neck.

The holding cells were farther back, but he couldn’t see her.

He stepped up to the counter where the man was sleeping, giving a gentle knock to the top. The man stirred, unfurling his arms, while the other man in the back glanced up from where he was, elbows deep in the snack machine as he fished out his bag of chips.

Raleigh offered a basic greeting in Spanish, frowning just a bit when both officers’ eyes lit up – the phrase “famoso” and “celebridad” falling from their lips almost as soon as they recognized him.

Yeah, he was gonna use his notoriety to their advantage, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when people immediately tried gauging what they could get from him when they realized who he was.

For a long time he’d been waiting for the day where name dropping himself didn’t get him out of deep shit.

And the day he met Dom, when he assumed she knew who he was, all she did was raise her brow as if to say “Why the fuck should I care?”

It startled him, truthfully. But it was such a breath of fresh air. He couldn’t remember a time before or after that someone showed no interest in him.

The officer in the back jogged to the front, pulling his phone out of his back pocket while asking for a picture.

He looked to Fiona, who was shaking her head furiously, stepping up next to him like her 5’5 stature was enough to shield him. “Nobody can know we’re here.”

He nodded, turning back to the men, trying to negotiate with them.

Yes, Dom’s here.

No, you can’t see her.

He racked his brain trying to figure out how he was gonna get himself – and Dom – out of the situation unscathed if he couldn’t give them a photo or autograph.

“Dom bought me the Rolex and Cartier rings, right?”

Fiona’s brows furrowed. “Yes. She gifted them to you on your birthday. You know this –”

“No, what I mean is, she has the receipts? Or you do?”

“I don’t have them, but I have access to them,” she said, still confused.

“Get rid of ‘em. I haven’t told anyone she bought them for me.”

Her face lit up in recognition, and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

He dug in his pockets, fishing out the watch and thin bands.

After a quick exchange, the officers took two rings each, and began rapid fire arguing over the Rolex. They tossed Raleigh the keys, stepping out the front door.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fiona said, turning towards the door.

“Hey –” Raleigh said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She quirked a brow at him. “What?”

“You’re not coming with?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say –”

“She specifically asked for you.”

He took a step back, resting his palm on the countertop behind him. “What the – are you… are you serious?”

She nodded once. “She might’ve been slurring, but she was clear as day. She wanted you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, running a hand through his short waves.

Fiona’s gaze softened, her eyes still piercing. Fiona was a lot of things – steadfast, headstrong, determined – but she wasn’t soft. She didn’t sugar coat shit.

“She’s missed you. She doesn’t confide in me much, but even I can tell she’s unhappy. Be gentle with her,” she said, gaze tearing right through him.

The walk to the holding cells felt miles long – his resolve was shrinking with every step.

He wasn’t afraid of seeing Dom, not at all. He was afraid of whatever part of himself that might’ve been reflected in her.

The cell was empty, save for the curled form on the bench, long dark hair cascading over the edges of the seat.

“Dom?” He called, hearing her sharp inhale of breath as she stirred, bending into a long stretch, her limbs unfurling until she was lying on her back on the bench, tilting her head towards his voice.

God, even when she looked like life had torn her to shreds, she still looked beautiful.

“Raleigh?” She croaked, her eyes squinting to adjust to the low lights. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She arched her back, stretching again, her long frame covering the bench. It was almost the right level of distracting to stop the creeping annoyance at her question.

“What do you mean? I’m here to bail you out, obviously.”

“Where’s Fiona?” She asked groggily, rolling off the side of the bench awkwardly, trying to gain her footing.

“You asked for me, didn’t you?” He raised a brow, sliding his forearms through the bars, resting them there.

“She told you?” She asked, voice raising in betrayal, a scoff following his silence. “I was drunk.”

“And? You still asked for me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she murmured, crossing her arms as soon as she was balanced.

He dangled the keys between his fingertips, gently jingling them. “I’ll let you out if you tell me what happened.”

Her lip curled in annoyance. “You’d really leave me here?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

She ran a hand through her hair, blowing air out of her cheeks. “Alright.”

He unlocked the door and slipped in, the heavy door creaking as he slid it wide enough for him to fit through.

She backed up, plopping back onto the bench, arms lowering to curl around her sides.

He followed suit, sitting a couple feet away from her on the other end of the bench, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

She stared at the floor, clearly waiting for him to make a move.

“So…”

“So, what?” She grumbled.

“So… how’d you end up here?” He asked, trying to remain as relaxed as he could since she was clearly on edge, ready to tear him a new one at a moment’s notice.

“I was drunk. I got in a fight. Here I am.”

He sighed. “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything, but I can’t help you if I don’t know if you’re ankles deep or neck deep.”

She chewed her lip, chin dipping lower, strands of her hair falling forward, creating an inky veil. “Fine. I’ll tell you but… can you not… look at me?”

Raleigh’s face contorted in confusion, but he listened, swivelling until he was facing the back wall, propping one leg up on the bench.

He waited for her to speak. The break in conversation was a bit too long – but before a quip could fall from his lips, she spoke.

“I did get drunk, and I did get in a fight. I’m telling the truth but I, uh, left out some details,” she started, her voice low.

“I, uh, was passing through this town after my last show because I wanted to go to a bar without being noticed. Like the old days. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t think anyone would find me here.”

That was her first mistake. Smaller towns surprisingly had the most dedicated fans – maybe because they’re bored or nothing exciting happened in their towns, but most of his die hard fans came from the middle of nowhere.

“The first hour was fine, and I was able to drink and dance with strangers. Most of them were a lot older than me and spoke zero English – and I speak a little bit of Spanish as you know, so I could make some small talk, but I was on my own just… enjoying myself and my freedom,” she said, and he could almost see the grin tug at the corner of her lips.

“I noticed someone taking photos of me with their phone, so I got a bit paranoid and sat in a booth in the back drinking for a little while longer so I could figure out my next move,” she continued, before sighing loudly. “I guess they told the local news or something, because by the time I decided to leave, I ran smack into a reporter on the sidewalk.”

Silence ensued again, this time more deafening than the last.

“I didn’t mean to give her a black eye. Or break the camera. Or elbow the camera man in the face when he tried restraining me. I just… couldn’t think straight. I was mad. Intoxicated and wrong, but still mad.”

“I know Fiona’s trying her best to get me out of this mess but… I think I went too far this time.”

Raleigh stared at the wall, racking his brain for something. He was a little dumbfounded that she spilled to him so fast. He figured it was gonna take a bit more digging to get her to open up, but she blossomed in front of him; despite the wilted petals, he was relieved to know she still trusted him enough to confide in him.

“Are you gonna say something?” She asked, a bit timidly.

“Not if I can’t look at you.”

“Okay, then don’t say anything.”

He sighed, settling into his spot on the bench, waiting again for her to speak.

“Why did you come?”

Instinctively, he shrugged. “You asked me to.”

“But you don’t owe me anything. We’re not together.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t drop everything to come help you. I mean, I’d like to think we’re at least acquaintances, if not friends,” he joked, resting his arm over the back of the bench.

“Sure,” she said, voice straining just a bit. Just enough for him to notice.

Dom was a special kind of resilient – one trait that Raleigh was sure she didn’t copy from him.

He knew that being a woman in the industry was already hard enough – everything from beauty to body standards to raging misogyny was enough to give people reasons to hate her, as stupid as they were.

Raleigh benefitted from the standards in place for men. He was young, attractive, talented – didn’t matter what he did wrong. He’d bounce back.

But he’d seen some vile shit since he’d ascended to fame. So many celebrities fading into obscurity after one mishap. One bad album. One bad interview. One rude encounter. One rumor.

For some reason, despite diving headfirst into troubled waters, Dom bounced back every time, fire in her eyes, her jaw set in determination, her face painted with the look she got when she was ready to face the world.

But whatever she was feeling in that moment, in that jail cell in the middle of nowhere – was enough to break her.

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, and he started to turn, but he felt her warm palm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He listened to her labored breathing, likely struggling to hold back tears, while he stared at the cracks in the wall, trying to think of something – anything – to console her.

“Did Fiona seem… upset?” She asked, seeming a bit nervous.

“It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest. She’s pretty intense all of the time,” he laughed, not really meaning to.

He was relieved to hear a light chuckle from behind him.

“Yeah, I figure she’s pretty mad at me. I don’t blame her,” she sighed, another break in conversation ensuing. A couple beats later, she asked, bluntly, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he answered with zero hesitation. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

She laughed again, a bit more genuine that time. “Not sure where you got that impression.”

“You wouldn’t leave me here to rot if I asked you to come, Dom. You’re not that heartless,” he teased gently, glad that things were taking a lighthearted turn.

“I’m just glad you’re not gonna lecture me. I already know I’m gonna get an earful from Fiona, not to mention the shit I’ll get from Shane and Avery. I couldn’t handle one from you.”

He grimaced. “Uh, well, you’d rather hear it from me than Fiona, right?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled under her breath.

“You know I normally don’t care what you do, because it’s your life, and you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, but Dom…” he trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I know I fucked up, Raleigh. I don’t need you making me feel more guilty than I already am,” she said defensively, voice raised.

“I’m not gonna make you feel guilty. Just offering some advice.” God, did those words feel foreign to him. Offering advice. He never did shit like this for anybody.

He took her silence as a green light. “You’ve just gotta slow down, Dom.”

Whatever impact his words made, he couldn’t see it, since he was still facing the damn wall. “Can I please turn around? I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Sure.”

He adjusted himself on the bench, trying to look attentive without staring. She was stunning, even with the smudged makeup, the dark circles, the red eyes “You don’t have to do anything and everything you’re asked to do, but you gotta find some kind of balance.”

She wrung her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean balance the good and bad, Dom. There’s a line for people like us and you can’t cross it often. You can get close, but you can’t just dive over it and not expect there to be some fallout.”

“I know,” she said, bluntly, looking a bit more annoyed with each word that came from his mouth.

“You can cause some chaos, but some of it isn’t acceptable,” he said, watching her expression contort in anger. “For them. Not acceptable for them. The average person, I mean.”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk!” She rolled her eyes. “How are you gonna sit here and tell me that your brand of shit stirring is okay, but mine isn’t?”

“I’m not the one sitting in a jail cell right now, Dom,” he said, calmly but firmly. He wasn’t used to being the rational one, but he had to be level headed. He was trying to save her.

She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back against the back of the bench. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“You’re hypocritical.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, propping his arm up on the back of the bench. “I was in the industry for years before I started dirtying up my image. You just got here.”

“And you’ve been here too damn long to act the way you do,” she nearly spat, lashing out.

“I’m too far gone,” he simply stated, keeping surprisingly calm through it all.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, which means, I’ve got a lot more fuck ups under my belt. Irreparable damage, if you will.”

“People love you,” she said, matter-of-factly, like that solved it – it honestly relieved him. A bit of Dom’s naivete from when they first met was shining through.

“People also hate me, because I’m a little shit who sets fires for fun,” he grinned. “For legal reasons, my lawyers insist I clarify that I’m joking.”

She rolled her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “People who hate you don’t know you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, and you’re so close to the point I’m sure you can taste it.”

“I’m too far gone to save. No matter how hard I try for the rest of my career, I can never get away from the wild card label. Plenty of people don’t wanna work with me. I’ve damaged business relationships. Lots of artists don’t want to collab with me because of how it’ll make them look.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know you don’t want this. You’re too good for whatever baggage comes with being a ‘rebel’, Dom. I don’t want to see you turn out like me.”

For the first time that night, she stared at him – really stared at him. Her deep brown, nearly midnight eyes searched his for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re… serious?” She asked finally, brows furrowed in confusion.

“One hundred percent honest,” he said, nodding.

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lip, contemplating.

“Can you turn back around again?”

He nodded, wordlessly facing the wall again.

“I left out a few details,” she said from behind him.

“I’m listening,” he affirmed.

“I, uh, was pretty hammered by the time I left, so it was even harder for me to understand what people were saying,” she said before he could speak. “I heard the reporter say ‘Raleigh’ and ‘novio’ and I saw red… so… I, uh… swung.”

His chest clenched, tightening until it was difficult to breathe. He was thankful she’d asked him to face the other direction, because he knew his reaction betrayed his cool demeanor.

“I guess I’m not over it,” she laughed humorlessly.

He ran a hand over his face, racking his brain for a response, but coming up short.

“You, um, don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. It’s on me.”

That made him turn, swivelling around before she could finish speaking.

She flicked her head towards the bars of the cell, raising a hand to cover her face. “I said ‘don’t look at me’, Raleigh. Goddamn.”

Years and years of PR training and interviews and he had no idea how the fuck to console her. Partially because he was trying to get a grip on whatever the hell was going on in his brain as well.

Instead, he answered her with a question of his own, a tactic he’d used anytime he wanted to deflect in interviews.

“Why can’t I look?”

Dom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, slowly rotating to meet his gaze. She sank her teeth deep into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing the backs of her hands under her eyes, the dried black mascara under her eyes beginning to liquidate again. “Because I’m crying, Raleigh. And I don’t cry.”

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I know there’s more to it than you’re telling me,” he asked, holding up two of his fingers in a solute. “No judgement.”

She sighed, crossing the room to put some distance between them. She began pacing, taking slow steps as she spoke.

“I might’ve fucked up my career and I keep letting people down and I’m destructive because this whole fame thing isn’t what I signed up for and I didn’t think I’d cave under pressure like every other mid twenties child actor who goes through a premature mid-life crisis, but here I fucking am,” she said, nearly out of breath by the end.

His legs carried him across the room before he could think twice, pacing towards her while she strode across the room in the opposite direction.

“God, I’m so fucking stupid –”

“Stop. You’re not stupid.”

“I am,” she said, wheeling on him. “And – and I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that my manager and – and my ex –” She stopped in her tracks, rubbing a palm over her forehead, shutting her eyes.

He reached out to her, but let his hand fall almost immediately.

“My acquaintance had to fly out to a fucking village in the middle of nowhere to bail me out –”

“Dom, stop –”

“– because I fought a fucking reporter over not being able to handle my fucking feelings –”

“Dom –”

“– like an adult with a functioning frontal lobe all because I love someone who –”

Her eyes popped open, her expression horrified. “Oh my god, I’m – I –”

She dug the heel of her hands into her eyes, dropping into a squat. “Fuck, fuck, Goddammit –”

“Did you just –”

“Yeah, Raleigh, I did. Don’t make me feel worse, alright? I know I fucked up,” she groaned from her heap on the ground.

“You just said you love me, Dom. I think I’m allowed to react,” he said, a slight teasing to his voice.

She glanced up, glaring. “Okay, then, react.”

Her gaze was fiery, her deep brown irises challenging – something else a bit more vulnerable lying beneath.

She was terrified.

He leaned down, gripping her around the waist to pull her back up, wrapping his arms around her upper back, hugging her to his chest.

She melted into his arms, relaxing and leaning into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” she murmured into his chest.

“So do you?” He asked, chin gently balanced on her head.

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, voice small.

“You don’t have to know. I don’t know either,” he said, just as earnest, feeling her tense in his arms. “But I do know that I like you enough to want you around, and that counts for something, right?”

She laughed (as genuine as he’d heard it), leaning back to look at him. “Yeah, it does.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, Dom’s chin tilted upwards towards him, their faces nearly touching.

“If this gets out, don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re a bad person,” he said, voice low. “You’re the best person I know –”

Dom closed the gap between them, capturing his lips in an intense kiss. He cupped her face in his palms and held her in place, moaning into her parted lips.

God, there was nothing that compared to kissing her. Nobody matched up. He’d made out with a lot of people since he was flung into stardom at sixteen, and no one – absolutely no one – left him in a daze like she did.

She gripped the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer, sighing contentedly against him.

The smell of her shampoo mixed with the sweet scent of her skin and the warmth of her hands and her chest flush against his – it was the next best thing to being inside of her.

He pulled back, trying to catch the dreamy, half-lidded look she always got when they parted.

“So… did you take your jet here?”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Out of context, that sounds so superficial.”

She grinned, her first genuine smile that night. “Oh, but you’re not? Hanging around a rising artist to cling to relevancy?”

He laughed, the sound reverberating off of the walls. “I really am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

“Yep. The good and bad,” she agreed, still smiling at him.

“The good?” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re literally the reason I haven’t walked out on my label and moved to bum fuck nowhere and lived off the land,” she said, shrugging. “You taught me how to have fun. You were the only one keeping me sane.”

He thought he was the one encouraging her to leap over the edge, but he was the one tugging her arm back.

The whole time he was convinced he was a bad influence, but he was doing some good – for her.

But with that revelation came the guilt at her words.

“‘Were’?”

“Well, we don’t really talk anymore. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Yeah,” she chewed her lip, stepping back, unraveling herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

That was a slap to the face. Dom rarely apologized, because if she felt she was right, she wasn’t going to budge. She was stubborn as hell.

“Huh? Why?” “I don’t want to guilt you into spending time with me… or feeling things for me,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t mean to corner you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted to come.”

She glanced up, blinking at him. “No, you didn’t –”

“I did,” he emphasized, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. “I kinda missed being forced to hang out with you. Feels like old times.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from ripping from her, this one louder than the last. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, but seriously, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Always.”

“Thank you.” With her free hand, she punched his shoulder lightly. “You’ll regret that sooner or later.”

“Nah,” he said, lip curling into a smirk. “I don’t think I will.”

––––

#playchoices #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #platinumweekend #my fic #jade writes choices fics #tbh i really loved writing this one - it's really special to me !!

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a December

Chapter 5: Alive or Dead. Who Knows?

A/N: OHMYGOD I finally posted!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m so happy I’m done with this, it had been plaguing my mind for the past week and now I can sleep well knowing I finished! I’ll try to be quicker with chapter 6. If you want to be tagged or if I forgot you, please send me an ask instead of a comment! Also let me know if you liked it!! Enjoy

Masterlist

Chapter 4 // Chapter 6

Lin felt more than saw Rowan tensing behind her.

She knew some about Lyria and Rowan’s past, and Lyria’s voice was so full of despair at that moment that it was a wonder he hadn’t just gone up to her. If it wasn’t for the arm he kept tightly around her body, maybe Lin would have.

“Please.” She pleaded again as Lin turned quickly to Rowan, catching a flash of his silver hair, and she felt a sharp pain in her brain again.

Just like it had happened in her bedroom moments ago, she felt as if she was being transported to another room. She remembered a woman— a different woman— pleading like Lyria was. She remembered looking down and seeing a torn child’s dress. She remembered turning back quickly and seeing that same flash of silver hair.

The room was the same one she had seen in the mirror, but this time she wasn’t sitting on a pretty vanity. Instead, she was hiding somewhere near the opposite walls of the bedroom. She could feel a slightly bigger hand holding her wrist, but all she could focus was the pretty and small woman standing in the middle of the room, begging for mercy.

Lin wanted to go to her, wanted to help her, but the hand on her wrist was unrelenting.

“Please, leave her alone.” The woman implored, and Lin had the distinction of knowing that voice.

She felt lips that were and weren’t her own forming a single word.

Marion.

The woman’s name had been Marion.

“Fuck.” Rowan whispered, dragging her out of whatever the hell that had been. He turned her in his arms, tilting her head back. “Your nose is bleeding.”

She raised a shaken hand to wipe it away the moment they heard a loud thud coming from where Lyria and the other man were. Both Lin and Rowan turned to where Lyria had been. The men formed a circle around her fallen body, and she raised her head, holding the side of her face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, shining in the moonlight and against the slap mark, but the rest of her expression showed nothing more than anger and defiance.

“I hope you and your queen burn.” Lyria’s voice held so much hate that when Rowan tensed against her, Lin didn’t know if it was from slight fear or surprise.

The men— most likely Cairn, Cain, Perrignton and one more she couldn’t recognize— remained silent, as if considering what to do with the fallen woman in front of them. They were dangerously near the back door, and Lin was almost trembling from the need to rush to help Lyria. But even with Rowan by her side, they were grossly outnumbered and this could cause the queen’s men to react briskly.

“Fenrys is in this room too.” Rowan bent his head to murmur against Lin’s ear. She didn’t tear her gaze from Lyria, but her attention shifted to Rowan’s words. If Lyria could get up and help, maybe they could fix this. “I need you to go back to the second to last wagon. They keep some coal and explosives there. Scream fire. When they shift their attention, Fen can grab Lyria and we get the hell out of here.”

“That could make them panic and throw Lyria out.” Lin murmured back, but there was no bite or anger to her words. His plan wasn’t bad, it just had too much room for error.

Better than nothing, she supposed.

“You have a better idea?”

“What do we do after? It’s not like they’re just going to give up because we helped her.”

“You have a better idea?” His voice came out harsh, and Lin held her tongue to keep a nasty reply in. This wasn’t the moment for their bantering, even though Lin knew she would bring that up later.

“Very well, Mr. Whitethorn.” She said, taking a small step back. She hadn’t realized how close they had stood, and was thankful for the absolute darkness in their part of the wagon as a soft pink colored her cheeks. She wasn’t used to proximity, to being close to anyone. Sometimes Lys, but that was more of a sisterly embrace— soft and welcoming. Rowan was… imposing. Too intriguing and unreadable at the same time for her liking.

Lin tried her best to keep to the shadows as she tried to exit the room. She could already see the door handle when she made the mistake of looking back. She eyed the alcove where she had been with Rowan, his figure completely hidden. The other one by its side, where she guessed Fenrys was, was just as dark. With her heart strained, she looked at Lyria and the three man.

She turned back to the handle when it hit her, almost making her shake.

Three?

She took in a sharp intake of breath when she felt fingers grabbing her hair, and she immediately knew it wasn’t Rowan. The two times he had grabbed her, it was not with pain as his purpose. Whoever this was, Lin had no doubt he wasn’t like Whitethorn.

The realization didn’t help her at all, the panic rising in her chest as she felt her whole body being pulled back violently. Lin didn’t remember if she had cried out before or after she hit the floor, the fourth man— the one she hadn’t recognized— standing above of her. He stood in front of her, one leg on each side of her body. Despite the fear clawing up her whole soul, Lin hoped neither Rowan nor Fenrys would do something stupid. Hoped they would use the distraction to get Lyria, to help Lyria.

“Who do we have here?” The man’s voice was like a caress, Adarlanian accent mixing beautifully with the Terrasenian one. Lin tried to focus on his face, tried to distinguish any of his features, but her vision was swaying due to the pain and the darkness only made it harder.

“A fucking asshole, if I have judged you correct.” Lin groaned, trying to clear her mind. He was in a compromised position— she wasn’t wearing those big skirts, meaning that she could get a leg through his front, put her other one in the back of his knee and make him fall.

Or a kick in the balls, if she didn’t want to get fancy.

Despite the fact that his face was hidden, Lin knew he was smiling. She saw the silhouette of his head looking up, back at the other three who were terrorizing Lyria. “Any of you know our unexpected guest?”

Lin tried to turn her head slightly, tried to see if Lyria was still ok. The brunette was staring right back at her, fear and anger mixing together. Lin knew the feeling very well. Lin stared at Lyria, hoping she would understand even without words. Silently and almost imperceptibly, Lyria started crawling little by little away from the door as Cain, Cairn and Perrington had their attention on the fourth man. Lin then looked up, realizing that Cairn was also watching her. He gave her a disgusting grin before looking at her assailant. “She was talking to Dunes earlier, Mr. C. The two of them were acting as if friends.”

“Hum, interesting.” The man mused, bending down on Lin. A new sense of panic took over her body, and she felt tears in the back of her eyes. Part of her wanted to start trashing, but the other part was terrified that if she did that, the situation would just get worse for her and Ly.

Some situations forced people to chose between the bad and the terrible, and although Lin hated it, she remained still— body completely tense and one breath away from snapping. Just a few more seconds and maybe Lyria would have crawled away enough to have a fighting chance instead of being thrown out.

“Are you also a traitor then, sweetheart?” He muttered, one hand going down her face.

“Wouldn’t it be boring if I told you that so soon into our interactions, darling?” Lin grunted through clenched teeth, nausea rolling in her stomach.

The guy chuckled, standing up again. Lin released her breath, looking at where Rowan was still hiding. She prayed to the gods a second time in the past ten years that he was staring at her. That, like Lyria, he would understand what she was about to do.

The man in front of her opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t get the words out as Lin attacked.

She bent one leg against the back of his knee, bringing her other leg to his front. She half wrapped it around his waist, pulling him backwards as her bent leg pushed him forward. As she had planned, he immediately lost his balance, letting out a yelp as he fell.

But instead of falling to the back as she had wished, Mr. C fell right on top of her. His weight was crushing her down, forcing the breath out of her lungs. Lin’s head started swaying again, vision blurring. He raised himself on his elbows, looking down on her with so much rage that his brown eyes shone.

Her legs and arms were constricted by his body on top of her, so Lin did the only thing she could think of in the moment.

She threw her head forward with as much force as she could. She could feel the blood running down her forehead, and she didn’t know if it was from an injury she caused on herself or the man’s newly broken nose. Behind them, grunting noises and shouts started ringing out, indicating that Fenrys and Rowan— and maybe even Lyria— were trying to deal with Cairn, Cain and Perrignton.

Lin focused back, readying herself to do the same again, hopefully knocking him out, when the man’s body simply disappeared.

Lin closed her eyes forcefully, blinking to get rid of the black dots swimming on her vision. When she could focus again, she realized that the man hadn’t magically disappeared. It had been Rowan.

Rowan pulled the guy back with so much force that he didn’t even get up.

“He was mine, fucker.” Lin grunted when Rowan kneeled by her side.

Despite the darkness, Lin could see him grinning slightly. “Pardon, next time shout dibs.”

She snorted, but any lightheartedness was destroyed by Lyria’s shriek. Lin and Rowan immediately turned their heads to where Lyria and Fenrys were standing, their backs against each other’s. Cain was holding the left side of his face, blood leaking through his fingers. Lyria was holding a small knife with her shaken hand while the other was gripping Fenrys’s pinky and ringer finger. He had one gun pointed at Cairn, but Perrignton had one pointed at Lyria.

Fuck.

Lin nudged Rowan’s arm, and he spared her one more glance before standing up and carefully walking up to them, raising his own gun at Perrignton.

Lin’s heart was beating wildly, her headache and blurry vision making everything worse. She tried getting up, legs weak under her, hands sweating and shaking. She noticed the blood dripping down her chin, either from her earlier nosebleed or the new injury on her forehead. Lin slumped against the wall when she finally got up, breathing in and out a few times before daring to take a step. The wagon was eerily quiet, each person pointing their guns or knives at each other.

This was going to end terribly, Lin knew.

She had to help however, in whatever way she could. Because she was in her nightgown, she couldn’t have brought her daggers with her, and guns were too expensive for her to ever consider buying one. Even empty handed, Lin straightened her back and started walking in Rowan’s direction. She could see if he had a spare weapon, a knife maybe, anything that would give her some advantage.

Before she could even reach them, she felt a hand on her shoulder violently turning her around. Immediately, Lin felt a fist connecting with the right side of her face, and she coughed some blood while looking up. Apparently Rowan hadn’t completely knocked Mr. C out if he was up and ready to give her a beating so fast. She straightened again, raising her fists limply. Her head was pounding, and not in the way it had been minutes ago while she walked to the last wagon on the train.That pounding had been different, more complex than this simple and agonizing pain.

Lin curled her lips at the brown-eyed man, her upper lip stinging.

“Fucking bitch.” He spat.

“My six foot five friend over there knocked you out, not me.” Lin said, forcing a sarcastic smile on her lips. Her face was throbbing, and she probably had a split lip and would get a huge bruise on her right side. “Why don’t you deal with him?”

“Tell your friends to lower their guns.” He almost growled, taking a step on her direction.

“Tell your friends to lower theirs.” She stared right at him. Now that they were standing in the middle of the wagon, the moonlight filtering through the back door allowed her to study his features. He had a soft tan skin, brown hair to match with his brown eyes. Powerfully built, average in height. Absolutely normal, the type of person Lin would never guess was someone dangerous. They remained in silence, the group behind them still closer to the door and barely breathing.

Lin had to think fast, especially because the chance of someone else taking a midnight stroll to the last wagons was almost none. They would have no help, and no one would hear anything either. Behind them there was no other wagon, in front was a storage room with coal and explosives according to Rowan.

An idea— stupid and absolutely reckless— sparkled inside her mind.

She took a small step forward, forcing her head to clear out. She needed all her attention for this, and so much could go wrong that the addition of a headache would only worsen things. Despite trying to remain calm, her heart was galloping, the sound deafening against her ears. She was about to put her life, as well as her other three companions, in danger. She couldn’t care less for the queen’s men.

“Very well.” Lin suddenly said, and although they had their backs to each other, Lin knew Rowan was paying attention to her words. Lyria and Fenrys too, she supposed. “Ro, the gun.”

Lin had to admit, Rowan Whitethorn was a fucking prick, yes, but a godsdamned smart prick.

And absolutely reckless if he was just going on board with whatever Lin was coming up with.

Lin moved at the same time Rowan’s gunshot sounded out. She had hoped he would understand what she meant when she called him Ro— something only the cadre did as far as she was concerned. She barely called him Rowan, and so by calling him Ro he understood that he was supposed to do the absolute contrary of what she had implied.

The man in front of her was shocked by Rowan’s reaction for a second, and Lin used it wisely. She elbowed him on the throat, her fist connecting with his nose as he doubled over. It had been broken when she hit her head against his, so hopefully the pain would be unbearable right now.

Lin didn’t dare to turn around to see how Rowan, Fenrys and Lyria were doing. Eventual gunshots sounded, but there was no indication of a body falling against the ground. Grunts, shouts and curses filled the wagon as Lin grabbed her assailant by the hair and kneed him in the throat again. He felt to the ground, hands gripping his neck as he coughed uncontrollably.

Lin ran to the connecting door, body screaming in pain as she threw it open and rushed to the other wagon.

It was lighter than the other one, windows all around illuminating the piles of coal. There were sheets covering some boxes, and Lin started frantically looking through them.

She found some matchboxes, holding one strongly in her hand as she looked for the last thing she needed. She almost cried in relief when she found a small box with three explosives.

“Oh, thank the fucking gods.” Lin sighed, getting up again. Her steps were unbalanced, both by her bodily soreness and hazy mind. She had to stop for a second, fearing going back to the last wagon. She was to cross the train connection again, and she hadn’t even worried about that when adrenaline was rushing through her veins. But now that it was fading, Lin was very much aware of the gap between the doors, the fast moving train and her inability to even walk straight. She looked forward, vision swaying but not blurry.

Lin held the door’s threshold, taking a big step. Maybe she would start being religious, based on the amount of prayers she sent to the gods in those five seconds that she needed to enter the last wagon again.

She half ran, half limped in Rowan’s direction. He had lost his gun, as had Perrington, and now both were just rolling on the ground, the punches they were throwing reverberating through the room. Lyria still had a grip on her knife, her back against the wall but hand raised to make sure Cain wouldn’t take one more step. Like Rowan, Fenrys and Cairn were brawling, Fenrys’s face sprayed with blood, his knuckles bleeding.

Lin looked around the room, looking for…

She sighed, holding the matches and explosives strongly. “Can’t you fucking stay down?”

Mr. C chuckled, taking a limping step towards her. It didn’t take one second before he tried to connect his fist with her face again, but this time Lin actually managed to dodge. Her clenched left fist hit him in the stomach at the same time he elbowed her right wrist.

The pain shot through her arm and hand, forcing her to drop the matches and explosive. The matches remained still, but the explosive rolled until the back of the wagon, almost falling through the back door.

Shit shit shit shit

She took her mind away from the fact that her only plan was in the back of the room now, focusing on blocking the blows the man in front of her wasted no time delivering.

“Cain!” The man shouted as he tried to hit Lin’s side with a right hook. He jerked his head to the connecting door, and through the corner of her eye Lin saw Cain leaving Lyria alone and rushing to the other wagon.

Lyria ran in Fenrys’s direction, slicing Cairn’s arm open as it was raised to punch Fenrys in the face.

Lin’s attention remained on them for a second too long. A second that caused her to receiver a smack against the throat, her guts constricting and allowing no oxygen in. She blinked the tears away, mouth open to get as much air as she could. She couldn’t stop, not now. She had to get him down, had to get to the fucking explosive.

“Perrington! Cairn!” Mr. C shouted, blocking a kick Lin tried to connect to his side.

They— Lin, Rowan, Lyria and Fenrys— were too busy fighting to realize what was happening. Cairn let go of Fenrys only to push Lyria so forcefully that her back and head slammed against the wall. Fenrys was immediately there, holding her in his arms. Turning his back to Cairn was a stupid move, but Lin knew that Fenrys’s complete attention was focused on the brunette in his arms.

Perrignton elbowed Rowan’s face, and Lin almost cringed at the sound of his silver head against the floor. There was some blood contrasting against the silver, and Lin’s stomach rolled. Just like Cain, Perrignton and Cairn ran to the other wagon.

“No.” Lin breathed.

At that, Mr. C smiled and kneed her in the stomach. Lin fell to her knees as she watched him follow his companions. “It’s a shame you must die. You seem interesting enough.”

Mr. C strolled to the other wagon, whistling. Lin grounded her teeth and got up, following him. He was already reaching the door that would take him back to the rooms compartments when Lin finally managed to leave the last wagon and enter the storage one. Regardless of the distance between them, Lin saw him smiling as he lit a single match.

And let said match drop on coal and the sheets she had thrown around. Almost immediately everything started catching on fire, and Lin didn’t know if she should focus on the flames or on the man slamming the door after him as he left.

“Did he just set fire to the train?” Lyria said from behind her. Lin looked back, seeing the brunette resting against Fenrys’s side on the other side of the train gap. Her eyes were wide, body trembling. “He’s going to kill everyone. He just fucking set fire to the train.”

As if her words had caused it, Lin had to hold herself against the threshold to not fall forward into the flames or backward into the gap. If she had fallen in the gap, it would take seconds for her to fall over the train and… well, die. The train had been completely shook, and Lin understood what had happened seconds later.

She stepped on the gap, cranking her neck to look to the front of the train. Her stomach rolled at her position, but she kept looking until her suspicions were confirmed.

“He detached the last two wagons from the front of the train.” She breathed, the flames now consuming the front wagon making her sweat. “Oh, gods.”

She only noticed how bad the fire had become when the flames licked her fingers. The hand she had against the threshold, holding her up so she wouldn’t fall off the train, felt as if it was burning. And so, stupidly, Lin let go of her grip with a pained shriek.

She only realized her mistake when she felt as if she was starting to fall.

Fucking gods, she was going to die in the most idiotic manner possible.

Lin closed her eyes, praying that dying wasn’t that painful when she felt a big and warm hand against her arm. She was pulled into the back wagon, hitting a man’s chest. His arms wrapped around her, and Lin wasn’t sure who was shaking more. When she looked up, Rowan was staring at her with both disbelief and anger. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“If you saved me to be a pain in the ass, you can just throw me back out.” Lin hissed, trying to cross her arms even if Rowan’s chest was pressed against hers. She was in the brink of death, but arguing with Rowan gave her some normalcy.

“Not to interrupt this beautiful moment between the future couple,” Fenrys said. “But can we take care of the imminent death first?”

“Fuck.” Rowan cursed, taking a few steps in the back wagon. Despite not being attached to the train, they were going extremely fast and this would kill them in the first curve.

That is, if the fire didn’t do so first.

Lyria had entered one alcove, coming back with a small hammer and pickax. Rowan immediately picked them up from her, jumping in the gap and starting to use the hammer to detach the pin holding the two wagons together. He barely did the second motion when the hammer broke, forcing him to use the pickax. “Come on! There’s gotta be something better than this in there!”

Fenrys and Lyria entered the other alcove, looking for a stronger tool. Lin, on the other hand, went straight for the explosives near the back door. She ran to Rowan, grabbing the matchbox as she went back. She lit the explosive, handing it to Rowan when the pickax also broke.

He stared at it for a second before shrugging, brows furrowed. “That will work.” He said, putting it in a hole in the gap. He jumped back to the wagon, rushing Lin to the furthest place from the connecting door. They crouched there, Fenrys and Lyria running to their direction and doing the same behind them.

“What the fuck do they teach you in those orphanages?” Rowan turned to Lin, incredulous.

Lin was about to answer when the loud sound reverberated, indicating that it had exploded. They raised their heads, watching as the wagon on fire disconnected from theirs.

Lin sighed in relief, even though they still had one problem to worry about.

“How the fuck are we going to stop?” Lyria asked, resting again against Fenrys. She closed her eyes, and Lin thought that she probably had hit her head pretty bad when Cairn threw her against the wall. Fenrys sat down with her, his arm around her shoulder.

Rowan stared at them for a second before turning away. He went directly to a chain pile resting on the ground. He grabbed it by one of the hooks, leaving it near the back door as he stepped out.

Lin shouted after him, running to the back door as well. She saw Rowan holding himself up by one arm, extending the other one. “Fenrys, give me the chain!” He shouted, and Lin immediately grabbed it and handed it to him. He raised his eyes to her, nose scrunching. “Not you.”

“Fenrys is busy.”

“I don’t trust you near train doors anymore.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just take the fucking chain, asshole!”

Rowan sighed, but he grabbed it. Lin saw him lowering himself, his head inches away from the tracks. He lopped the chain on the under part of the train, pulling it to make sure it was completely attached.

Some small parts of the underside of the train fell, going straight to Rowan’s face. Out of instinct, Lin reached forward, grabbing Rowan’s hand and pulling him inside.

He fell on top of her, panting hard. Lin was panting just as hard, and when she looked up at him, he was staring down on her. She looked at him a second too long before shoving him away.

“Get off of me!”

“I’m trying!” He grunted, sitting down. They both looked outside the back of the wagon, seeing the broken pieces of the train spiked against the wooden trails.

“And to think that could’ve been you.” She mused as they got up.

“If we live through this,” Rowan was saying as Lin turned her back and looked at Lyria’s direction to check on the girl. “Remind me to thank you.”

Lin snorted, kneeling again to push the other side of the chain off of the train. Rowan did the same, and they silently watched as the chain uncurled and uncurled until the anchor at the end of it caught in one of the wooden trails. The thing must have been so old that it completely broke, metal and wood disconnecting from the ground. Lin heard Lyria screaming, as well as Fenrys’s curses.

The wagon spun to the side, tilting slightly. Rowan put his arms around Lin’s body— one covering her back and the other one her head. She burrowed her face on his chest, closing her eyes as the wagon shook violently.

Shook, and shook and shook.

But each time slower.

It must have been the most stressful minute in Lin’s life, and when the wagon finally came to a full stop, she could almost cry of relief.

She kept her head against Rowan’s chest, too exhausted and pained to even move. The adrenaline in her body had ended, and now everything seemed heavy.

“I should have told the six of you to fuck off a week ago.” Lin complained.

She felt Rowan’s chest trembling with small laughter. “Yeah, you should have.”

They remained in silence for a while, each taking their time to recompose themselves.

“You can do it now.” Lin said, sitting up. She looked at Rowan, realizing his furrowed brows.

“Do what?”

“Thank me. You said if we survived you’d thank me.” She crossed her arms, looking around before letting her gaze fall back at him. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere, trees and more trees extending for miles. “So thank me. Also notice that I am incredible.”

Rowan’s jaw fell slightly, but he quickly recovered himself and rolled his eyes. “Thank you for being a decent human being, Ace.”

Lin was going to smile, was going to reply with a snarky comment when she saw two figures coming from the forest. They were all dressed in black from head to toe, impossible to recognize. They walked cautiously in the wagon’s direction, looking around to see if there was anyone else other than the four people inside.

When they both raised their guns, Lin simply sighed, raising her hands. “Here we fucking go again.”

————————

Aedion Ashryver was not a happy person.

He wasn’t unhappy, he just wasn’t happy either. Maybe somewhere in the middle.

In his opinion, happiness was a conjunction of many aspects. One of them was hope, and Aedion had lost that ten years ago when his kingdom was conquered and his cousin murdered.

Aelin had been his best friend, his confident. Despite the age difference, they had been inseparable and Aedion was closer to her than he was to anyone else. They were like brother and sister, always together. Losing Aelin had broken something so fundamental inside of him that he didn’t believe he could ever be truly happy again.

Until he met Lysandra.

Not in the way that Lysandra would substitute Aelin, or in the sense that they would fall madly in love and she would bring the light back to his life. No, Lysandra had changed everything because she possessed the most important information he could ever wish for.

Aelin was alive.

His little cousin, the person he swore to protect had been alive these ten years, living in a piss poor orphanage while he acted brooding in a beautiful palace in Banjali. The day he discovered it, when Lysandra had a photo of Aelin to prove what she was saying, Aedion had vomited his guts out. Vomited as he imagined his eight year old cousin alone, thrown in an orphanage and treated like shit. Vomited as he imagined what she must have gone through, what she had to learn in order to survive. He vomited because for every miserable day in her life that she managed to survive, he had been an ungrateful brat.

Mourning, anger and embarrassment clawed their way into his mind and heart, and Aedion couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop wishing he had done something. He had taken too long, but he wouldn’t sit around and do nothing no more.

Aedion Ashryver was going to get his cousin back, and they would make up for the lost time.

He might normally have been an arrogant prick, but even he knew when to ask for help.

And Lysandra was the only person who actually knew Aelin. Knew her ways, her thinking, her tells and how she operated. If Aedion had any chance of finding his cousin in all Erilea, he would need the girl who had become Aelin’s sister during the past ten years. Convincing her hadn’t been that hard; Lys was as eager to find Aelin again as Aedion was. So, the following day when Aedion went back to that terrible bar and paid for Yrene and Lys’s debts, Lysandra didn’t hesitated in agreeing to help him.

Now, a week later, he was sitting in a small office, starring at the two men in front of him. Lysandra and Irene were standing behind him, both of them quiet. Aedion couldn’t let Yrene remain in that terrible place, so he offered her the same thing he had offered Lysandra: help me find my cousin. Yrene had immediately accepted, shocked to discover that the lost princess of Terrasen wasn’t that lost anymore.

“We need a guide.” Aedion said, shrugging. “You’re a famous detective, have travelled all around Erilea. You know people, and you know places. So, tell me, why wouldn’t I want you helping me?”

“It will be expensive.” The one sitting down said, his voice calm and cool. The man standing behind of him hand’t opened his mouth since they had come in, but he eyed Aedion, Irene and Lysandra suspiciously.

“Money is not a problem, I can assure.” Lysandra said for the umpteenth time. Aedion almost turned and thanked her for stepping in. If he had to say those words again, he might attack the man on the other side of the table. “We will pay you half now, half when we find her.”

“And who are we looking for, exactly?”

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” Lys said, as Aedion was resting against the back of his chair. “We have concrete proof she is alive and well, but we do not know where.”

The man sitting down crossed his hands on top of the table, launching forward. He eyed Aedion, and then Yrene and then Lysandra with infinite and new interest. And when Dorian Havilliard smiled, Aedion knew he had gotten what he wanted.

“I never say no to an adventure, milady. And finding the lost princess sounds like a pretty good one for me.”

Aedion smiled at Lysandra, seeing her heart shaped face smiling back at her. She winked at him with her right almond shaped eye, and Aedion’s grin widened further.

This was going to be interesting and, when he got his cousin back, all of this would be happy.

Tags:

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brown-bi-beautiful · 4 years

Text

Give Me Some Sugar

Steve Rogers AU

Series Masterlist

Sugardaddy! Steve Rogers x Sugarbaby! Reader.

Summary: When young Y/n gets fired from one of her jobs she struggles to make enough money for college loans and Bills, that’s when she meets Steve. What Steve is looking for isn’t exactly a relationship, he just wants someone to look pretty in his arms and take care of his needs without asking many questions about his job.

Series Warnings: Salty reader, age gap, Sugardaddy, and Sugarbaby relationship and all the chaos that comes with it, SMUT (Obviously. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t see that coming, Karen.), asshole people (Yup that’s a warning.), language more will be added later to the chapters.

Characters (as per the chapter): Y/n (Duh), Steve Rogers (Duh again), Kyle (OMC), Sharon Carter, Wanda Maximoff.

Words: 2.9k

Chapter Warning: Language. That’s pretty much it.

CHAPTER ONE

You were happy. Your life was finally on track. You had two jobs that paid enough for your bills and if you keep working just a few more months and you will be able to pay back all of your college loans with interest. You finally got enough courage to stand up to your asshole boyfriend and broke up with him. And to top it all off it was your 21st birthday. It was the best day of your life right? Wrong. As soon as the words fell from your colleague's mouth that “Ed is calling you to his office.” You knew what it was about. All the smiles drained from your face. He didn’t call you this morning to ask you to take the day shift, he called you to fire you. But you went to his office anyway with that little hope in your heart that maybe, just maybe he was calling you to give you a birthday bonus and not to fire you. But knowing the cheap motherfucker he is, that’s probably not gonna happen.

“Ed, you called?” You asked as you poked your head inside after giving two knocks. You were trying so hard to keep it all together and not to burst out with tears already.

“Y/n.....Hey, first of all, happy birthday.” He said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes

“So, you remember my birthday?” You asked. Maybe he wasn’t actually going to fire you. You told your inner self to not get her hopes up.

“Yeah, Chloe reminded me when she saw your friend’s post on Instagram.” He said, making it clear that you were not important enough to remember your birthday. “Look I’m not gonna spin my words and make things complicated, I’m just gonna come straight with this OK? I’m sorry to do this on your birthday but the restaurant is not doing as great as it was a few weeks ago.” You wanted to call on his bullshit, you knew the restaurant was doing just fine, even better you would say, but you decided to stay quiet. “It was a hard decision to make.” Again bullshit, he hated your guts for some reason, if anything he jumped on the opportunity to fire you. “We discussed it for a whole week and decided that we have to let you go. Since you are the one who needs this job the least as you already have another one.” So that was the actual reason.

You wanted to scream at him and throw your shoe at him and insult him and call him an asshole but then you reminded yourself that you were 21 now, You have to act mature. So you just smiled at him and gave him a nod. You have to say he was pretty surprised at your reaction, he didn’t expect you to act so maturely, after all, you were a little famous for throwing tantrums.

“We’ll miss you,” Chloe added and you gave her a smile, she actually was a pretty sweet girl, you had no idea how did she put up with this asshole.

“I’ll miss you guys too.” You said and walked back to the locker room. You took off the restaurant’s black and purple hideous t-shirt and put on the shirt you wore this morning. “Did he actually fire you?” A voice said behind you and you turn to look at one of your good friends Kyle. As soon as you looked at him a single tear left your eyes. You nodded your head and he wrapped his arms around you. “It’s my birthday.” You sniffed against his chest.

“I know. Hey, it's okay. You’ll definitely find a better one I promise.” He said with a comfortable tone and stroked your hair. You nodded with a small smile. “What did you say to him?” He asked.

“Nothing, I don’t wanna act like an immature baby and throw tantrums at him. I took it like a big girl.”

“Huh.. now that’s new. How about you be immature just one more time.” He said and you gave him a confused look. “He’s a big asshole for firing you, you know? Even bigger for doing it on your birthday, so how about you tell him what big of an asshole he is before you go.” He explained and a smirk made its way on your lips. You took your purse and stormed to the middle of the restaurant.

“Hey, Ed.” You called out and everyone turned to look at you when Ed made his way out of his office you started talking again. “You know you’re an asshole right? You’re a jealous asshole who can’t stand his colleagues when they start earning more than him so he fires them on their birthday, but you know what fuck you and your shitty restaurant and I’m gonna find a better job where the boss is not a dick. And stop sending dick pics to your employees you fucking pervert.” His face turned red as you revealed his dirty little secret in front of the whole restaurant. Kyle winked at you as you throw up both of your middle fingers and walked out of the restaurant.

*******

“You actually said that?” Wanda asked as you continued sobbing and nodded your head. “Did he ever send you any?” She asked.

“No, but he d-did to some of my friends.” You said between sobs and rub your nose in the hanky that Wanda gave you.

“Oh my god, is she still crying?” Sharon said as she walked into the apartment and took off her shoe. “I left an hour ago, y/n, you can’t be still crying.” She said and sat beside you. “I can’t help it.” You said between the sobs again. As soon as you left the restaurant you came to the apartment that the two of your best friends shared. And you started crying as soon as Wanda asked you what happened. Sharon instantly volunteered to go out and bring some of your favorite food to calm you down. “Here, I got your favorite ice cream.” She said pulling out a big tub of mint chocolate chip and you instantly stopped crying and pulled her in a bear hug. You have no idea what would you ever do without these two here.

After the three of you finished the whole tub of ice cream and Three full movies of twilight it was 6 in the evening. You were in a better mood again.

“I hate that movie,” Wanda stated as she licked the remaining of her bowl.

“Yeah, me too.” You said snuggling closer to Sharon.

“Yeah, twilight sucks.......why were we watching it again?” Sharon asked.

“Because we like to say we hate it but we love to hate it.” You said and they nodded their head like you made total sense.

“Ok, Get up, both of you. Get ready. We need to leave at 11.” Sharon said as she pulled away from the comforter from you and Wanda and gestured for you to get up.

“Where are we going?” You asked with a confused eyebrow.

“It’s your 21st birthday and we are not gonna waste it. We’re going to a club and we are gonna look hot and we are gonna drink a lot of alcohol.” Sharon said firmly.

“Sharon I don’t think so, I mean, I just lost my job and-”

“So? you’re gonna get another one. You can’t just sit here like a fucking sloth till then.” She said and Wanda nodded along as both of them stood in front of you with their hands on their hips.

“I don’t have anything here.” You said.

“Wear something mine.” Wanda suggested and your eyes lit up “Except for the red dress.” She said when she saw your smirk.

“Come on.”

“You can have my whole closet but that dress.”

“But It's my birthday.” You pouted with puppy dog eyes. No one, no one can resist your puppy dog eyes. So that’s why four and half hours later you were standing in front of Wanda’s trailer giving the final touch to your make-up. The said red dress was hugging your every curve like it was tailored specially for you. The hem landed on your mid-thigh, the plunging neckline was showing more than enough amount of your cleavage, the back was made of four strings. She gave you her black pumps which were a little too higher than your usual shoes. Your hairs were curled perfectly by her. Wanda gleamed at you as she admired her work.

“God, you’re gonna turn some head.” Sharon complimented as she walked in and as always she was looking wonderful. She was wearing a dark blue halter neck dress and Wanda was wearing the same dress as yours but in black.

The cab was in front of their apartment in fifteen minutes. There was no doubt that clubs in New York were great but they were even greater when your friend’s bouncer friend is on door duty so as soon as the three of you arrived, Wanda smiled at the man standing on the gate and he let you in instantly making the people in the long line behind you groan out in frustration.

Sharon pulled both of you to the floor as soon as you entered the club, the music was so loud that you forgot about your shitty day completely. “Shots?” Wanda asked after a song and you nodded. You kept swaying your hips as you reached the bar. “Kamikaze. three each.” You said to the bartender and he started making your drinks with a smile on his face which you could bet was fake.

He lined up the shots in front of you and the three of you took ‘em within ten seconds. “More,” Sharon yelled and he lined up three more. After drinking five shots each, three of you got back to the floor.

After what felt like hours Wanda tucked on your arm and said. “Look at those guys, they are hot,” Wanda said pointed at a group of businessmen sitting around a table who looked too rich to be here. They were definitely a lot older than the three of you. Your eyes instantly met with the blond man with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. He was already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. “I called dibs on the blonde, He’s hot,” Sharon said as she looked at the said man who was already looking at you. You felt a slight punch of jealousy in your chest as she eyed him up, or maybe it was just the alcohol.

“Ok, my legs are gonna give out, I’m gonna take a seat,” Sharon said as she moved to the other corner of the club. “Yeah, me too. You coming?” Wanda asked you and you shook your head, not taking your eyes off the blond man.

You don’t know what came over you but you bit your lips and started dancing more sensually than you ever did before, your hands roaming over your own body. He looked like he was enjoying the show way too much, you were pretty sure you could see his boner if it wasn’t so dark. He smirked at you as you swayed your hips.

The little bit of conscience that was left in you was telling you to stop it, that it wasn’t you. You were not like this. But you shut it off and kept dancing. Giving him a show.

A hand tapped on your shoulder and you came to face with a very familiar face and your eyes lit up. “Kyle.” You exclaimed and jumped into his arm. He hugged you tightly and pulled you up from the ground. “What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Sharon invited me.” He replied. Kyle has a crush on Sharon ever since you have introduced the two of them. He made you promise him that you will never tell her anything about it, you have told him so many times to just ask her out but he keeps saying she’s way out of his league.

“I didn’t know you would want to hang out with three girls on a Saturday night otherwise I would have asked you to come myself.” You said as you leaned into him due to the loud music, his hands were firmly rested on your waist in a friendly manner but it was enough to make the blond man across the room slightly jealous.

“Well, it wasn’t my plan either, I was gonna do some bowling with my brothers but then Sharon called, and you know I can’t say no to that woman.” He said making you laugh. “I’m gonna go say Hi to her and Wanda and then we’re gonna do some shots OK?” He said loudly over the music and you nodded before pushing him where Sharon and Wanda are sitting.

You turn around to look for your hot stranger again but much to your dismay he was not sitting there anymore. You frowned as your eyes searched the crowd looking for the blond man who has caught your eyes.

“You looking for someone?” said a husky voice behind you as hot breath ran down your spine. You spun around so quickly that you almost lost your balance but before you could fall your stranger stretched his arm and grabbed you by your waist. “Careful, sweetheart, wouldn’t want that beautiful face to have a scratch on it.” He said as he pulled you close to him and started dancing with you. His grip on your waist was hard, it made you wonder how his strong hands would feel on other parts of your body. You subconsciously started grinding on him and he growled in your ear before grabbing a handful of your ass making you moan out at his sudden action.

In quick action, he turned you around and pulled you to his chest. His hard member was pressed up against your ass and you ground on it. His hands holding your waist roughly. he leaned down to press his lips against your ear and said “That was a nice show you put up for me, does your boyfriend knows you are dancing for a strange man like that?” he asked.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you replied as you pressed your head against his chest. God, he was so strong and manly, so different from all the boys you’ve been with. They were just that, boys, but he was a man and you’ve always craved a man.

“Good, ‘cause once I like something, I hate to share it with someone else.” He said making your heart flutter.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Next time, Doll.” He said as he leaned down to kiss your neck before walking away from you. You turned to see as he walked away from you, his eyes didn’t leave yours till he disappeared into the crowd. Leaving you there, craving for more. Your heart became heavy with disappointment.

But he had said ‘next time. Did he actually mean something by it or was he just letting you down easy, so that the rejection wouldn’t hurt much? But he also said he liked you. Before your mind could overthink the whole situation your friends walked up to you.

“Where have you been lost, girl. We’ve been calling for you.” Kyle said and you turned to look at the three of them. “Huh?” was all that left your mouth.

“Let’s do more shots,” Wanda yelled over the crowd making you laugh at her enthusiasm. “I’m good you guys go.” You said.

“Partypooper.“ Sharon said.

“You promised me,” Kyle said.

“But-”

“No buts, let’s go.” Sharon dragged you to the bar. After a few more drinks you guys were ready to go home. You pulled out your card to give it to the bartender to pay for the drinks but he shook his head making you frown.

“Your tab’s been paid for.” the bartender told you.

“What? Who paid for it?”

“A very generous gentleman. I don’t know his name but he was very blond, said he knew you.” The bartender said and you knew exactly who he was talking about. Why would he reject me and then pay for our drinks? You thought.

“Woah Alex has a secret admirer!” Wanda exclaimed making Sharon and Kyle laugh. A blush made its way on your face but you reminded yourself you have to pay him back. You can’t let a random stranger pay for your shit.

“How much he gave you?” You asked.

“A thousand dollars said it would cover you for the night and the rest was a tip.” He said making your eyes wide like a saucer, not just yours your friends’ too.

A thousand fucking dollars!? that’s more than I have in my account right now. how am I supposed to pay him back?

“Woah, he was generous,” said Sharon.

After that Sharon and Wanda took a cab home and Kyle dropped you at your sister’s house where you were leaving. When you got inside Your sister, her husband and their kids were already sleeping. You went to your room as quietly as you can. You quickly took off your dress, did your night routine, and fell on the bed. You couldn’t stop thinking about the blue-eyed stranger the whole night, even as you slept he was on your mind.

*******

CHAPTER TWO

A/N: This chapter was more like a prologue, the main thing starts from the next one. Like if you like the chapter if there’s something you didn’t like feel free to tell me in the comments or in the asks, If you want to be tagged send me and ask.

Taglist:

@godspeedlover

@captainchrisstan

@organisationiskey-posts

@literaturefeen

#sugardaddy steve #sugardaddy! steve rogers #sugardaddy steve x sugarbaby reader #steve rogers fluff #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #give me some sugar #chapter one

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bybibucky · 4 years

Text

Give Me All - Pt. 8

Bucky Barnes Modern AU - Part 8 feat. Natasha Romanov

After a series of disappointing experiences with wannabe-doms, you give this last new one a chance and he not only makes you forget every other man you’ve been with but also your own name.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: smut (18+ please), mentions of dom/sub relationship, Bucky x reader x Nat, bisexual!reader, besides that this part is acutally quite tame haha

A/N: I know it’s been a while but I just found time, ideas, and motivation to continue this so here we areeee. Please give feedback/comments/reblogs, it’s my number one source of happiness haha

You would have growled in frustration had it not been for the fact that you were in public and still too close to your office to not be noticed by your co-workers. This day had been… a day. A bad one, to say the least. You didn’t want to talk about it. The memory would be enough to taunt you until you got your mind off of it. But Bucky didn’t pick up the phone.

It was your birthday, and Bucky had been dodging your calls all day. Ever since he’d gone on his trip for work two weeks ago, you had been strung up for several reasons: the most obvious once being horniness, which was always given with his absence, the other being you day that was going horribly, and then there was the fact that Bucky wouldn’t be home on your birthday, or at least, not until late in the night. The only upside was that it was Friday, so you could sleep in tomorrow and have a cozy day with your fiancé.

You went home to his place that had slowly but surely become yours as well. Except for a few kitchen items and some furniture, everything was there and you had plans to hand over the keys to your apartment to your roommate once she’d found a replacement for you. But nothing, when you let the door fall shut behind you, was like you had left it. One major thing was out of place and it was the giant bouquet of an arrangement of your favorite flowers that sat in a large vase on the kitchen island. You certainly didn’t remember that being there this morning, nor the boxes with bows that most definitely held presents for you. It was your birthday, and Bucky was in his element, that’s what he had said days ago.

Both of you were, even weeks after the day he’d gotten down on one knee in front of you, still in the post-proposal honeymoon phase, and somehow, that made Bucky even more eager to shower you in presents. To you, the diamond on your finger was more than enough for at least the next ten years. It made you insanely happy every time you looked at it. But this, this was beyond what you could have imagined. You wanted to call out for him, but knowing him, you also knew that he wasn’t the type to hide behind a corner and surprise you. He was more hands-on. Nonetheless, this was gorgeous. Given the chance, you would have exchanged all of these presents for a day spent with him, but you appreciated them anyway.

You started with the note that was attached to the flowers.

Dearest Y/N,

Happy birthday. I wish I could be there personally right now, but I hope you enjoy my presents as much as I’ll enjoy your presence once I’m back tonight.

Love, Bucky

You rolled your eyes fondly at the pun, but couldn’t help the grin that switched into an expression of awe when you opened the first gift. Inside was a gorgeous, sleek black dress that would most definitely look amazing on you. He just knew what you liked even more than you did. Wear it for me tonight, said another note that you found in the box. The other presents Bucky had gotten you all matched this one. The shoes, the jewelry, the beautiful lingerie set all went together perfectly in a well-planned outfit. You wondered what his plans were for the day, but you couldn’t wait to find out.

Needless to say you looked absolutely ravishing once you’d put on everything. The dress and shoes fit comfortably, and the jewelry just put a cherry on top. You’d kept your hair and makeup natural and when you took a glance at yourself in the mirror, you were certain you’d never felt prettier than this. Bucky wouldn’t believe his eyes.

And he didn’t. Once the door fell shut behind him, he had already dropped and forgotten his bag, eyes fixed on you and you only. “God, I’m good,” he breathed, “spin for me.”

You could do nothing but smile shyly as you obliged. He was right in front of you when you faced him again.

“I had plans for tonight but I’m beginning to think we’d have more fun if I kept you tied to my bed all night.”

“Ha, you wish.” You stepped out of his grasp. “I didn’t get all dolled-up for nothing.”

“Hey.” He pulled you back into him with an arm around your waist. “I’m not nothing.”

You laughed. “Of course not. But I wanna find out what your plans are.”

“Mhm, I bet you do,” he said, “do you want a normal night or do you want to play?”

It wasn’t a question you needed to think about. “Play, please.”

His eyes lit up. “I was hoping you’d say that.” One hand reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out yet another box. “One more thing, though.” And with the way he opened the present for you, you knew that he was already in charge. Inside was a thin silk chocker whose two bands met in the middle in a small silver ring. Attached, was a tiny little diamond that matched your engagement ring.

“Is this…”

“Yes, baby,” Bucky said, “I want you to wear this collar whenever we play in public.” Smiling at your wide eyes, he pulled the collar from its place in the box to fasten it around your neck, loose enough not to hinder your breathing, but tight enough for you to definitely feel it.

Bucky stepped away, then, reaching out to pull you with him towards the door.

:::::

The restaurant had been barely lit. The chandeliers above your head had offered enough light that you had seen your plate and Bucky, the table the only thing between you two. And while the food had been delicious, you hadn’t really been able to concentrate on it, as your mind had been too occupied by your task. Because tonight, you weren’t in the position to complain or decline an order he gave, you hadn’t refused. Consequently, a pair of panties, soaked to an embarrassing degree, now happily sat stuffed into the front right pocket of Bucky’s dress pants. At least, you dress was tight, so it wouldn’t just blow away and expose you, but that meant that it had been considerably difficult for you to take them off right there in the me middle of the restaurant without anyone noticing.

You were getting into the right headspace to submit more and more each passing second, and Bucky could tell. In the car park, you had begged him to touch you, desperate to the point where he had to shove you into the backseat and drape you over his lap. No panties where in the way once the hem of your dress was bunched around your waist, and he didn’t waste any time bringing his hand down harshly. The only thing that kept you from exclaiming profanities that would earn you several more slaps was the metal hand on your mouth.

“Keep quiet,” he said, tone considerably deeper than just a few minutes ago in the restaurant, “we don’t want anyone to overhear, do we?” It was a rhetorical question. Of course you didn’t. God knows what strangers would think if they were to walk by too closely and hear him punish you.

When Bucky made his way back to the front seat, you stayed behind where you could shift your weight away from your burning cheeks without getting noticed. He had done quite the number on you and the night had just started.

You stared off into the blurry lights of the buildings you passed and perked up when Bucky pulled up in front of a club. It had been a while since you last had been in a place like this, but with him by your side, you were beyond excited. Maybe, he would have you dance for him, or with him, even.

He ordered for you. He was in charge, after all, but the drink was nice. Not too strong but not fruity either and you gratefully accepted it. You knew it would most likely stay your first any only drink of the night – not counting the glass of wine you had had with your dinner – because Bucky always wanted a clear head that he could bring to subspace. Otherwise, it would be too dangerous, especially for what he had planned tonight.

“Dance for me,” he whispered into your ear, his lips grazing the skin at the base of your neck as he pushed you towards the dance floor. Your drink stayed with him for safekeeping. The strappy high heels at your feet didn’t do much for grace, but they brought a nice curve to your body when you began to sway your hips, your back to Bucky. Unsurprisingly, his eyes were fixated on you, when you turned. The beat strung your body like a musician would his instrument, and you moved for Bucky like your life depended on it. There was no saying how sexy you actually looked – from his position, he mostly only saw your head and the occasional tilt of your hips when the people between you were just out of sight enough.

But the tension was immaculate, even when strange hands settled on your waist. You hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in so long you almost didn’t recognize it, but the weight on your skin was too dainty to not be Bucky’s, even not considering that you were staring into his eyes all the way from across the room. His nod allowed you to indulge in the embrace of the woman behind you, and the bare skin of your back caught soft breasts. She swung her hips for you, moving you against her front with the rhythm. It was much too loud to make out any melody, but the beat was making your heart thump against your ribcage in its own pattern.

Either Bucky’s eyes were darkening or you were imagining it. But either way, you loved the sight. You wanted him with you, above you, inside you. The woman could join, you didn’t care and you hadn’t even seen her face yet.

Her lips met your neck after having pushed aside your hair and you almost pushed her away, but Bucky shook his head, telling you to go on. This had apparently become part of the game for tonight. Maybe, he would spin it so that it looked like you had been trying to cheat so that he could punish you. Maybe, he’d use her as leverage against you in the playroom. Maybe, maybe.

In a moment of bravery, you spun in her arms and she instantly pressed her knee between your thighs. It was too much, but still not enough. You wanted to be touched just like this, but not by her. It felt wrong but good at the same time. Looking up, you couldn’t make out her face entirely, but the hair that, even under the colorful lights, seemed a bright red, framed it in neat, pretty curls.

Her arms fell onto your shoulders and yours settled on her waist in response. You stayed like that, swinging to the music that had switched to a different unrecognizable song. It was hot, and comfortable enough for you to almost let lose. Right until you caught Bucky’s eye over her shoulder. He raised a brow, unimpressed. He wasn’t yet in the mood to punish, but definitely getting there. You decided it was time you brought his attention back to him before he could make his move.

Smiling apologetically, you detached yourself from her arms – she wouldn’t have heard you speak over the music anyway – and squeezed through the hundreds of bodies back to your fiancé. Unsurprisingly, he pulled you close, right between his spread legs so he could hook one of them around your ankles possessively. His lips were on you in an instant and you could tell he was hungry for it. This was the first proper kiss in two weeks and neither of you cared who else was present to be a witness to it. But your thoughts – just a tiny part of them – were fixed on the woman from before. And no matter where you two went in the club, you always caught her eye almost periodically.

You were in a dilemma situation. The woman was absolutely stunning, now that you had seen her entirely. She was wearing a skin-tight black dress that hugged every curve of her practically flawless body, the thin material leaving little to the imagination. Red hair curled to perfection flowing down one of her shoulders, vibrant green eyes following your every move, intrigued. You wanted her, deep down, and you were almost certain she felt the same.

But nothing was going to happen, not tonight, not ever. At least, as long as you were with Bucky and you intended to have that be the case for a long time.

Bucky noticed you staring at her – you couldn't help it, really – and you would have been ashamed were it not for the warm hand that crept its way up your thigh, dangerously close to your core.

He slowly kissed the back of your neck. “Like what you see?”

You were putty in his hands, had been ever since he had gotten home and, just by his gaze, threatened to take you on every piece of furniture that was strong enough to hold you up, and you couldn’t stop yourself from nodding against him.

“Me, too,” he confessed with a smile on his lips.

He continued to hold you close to his chest, though he didn't touch you any further, the heat and want radiating off him was enough to have your feel light-headed. “I'm gonna go to the ladies' room real quick.”

He let go of you and once he had seen you disappear into the hallway that led to the bathrooms, Bucky sent a wink to the woman across the room. She responded with a knowing smile and got up, vanishing from his sight in the crowd.

:::::

You longed to splash some cold water in your face but were faced with two problems: your carefully applied makeup and the fact that you were in one of the stalls and not in front of the sink. But you didn't want to get out, either, feeling weirdly secure in that tiny space you had right now. You needed to gather your thoughts before you got back out there, back to Bucky.

Trying to get yourself to focus, you gave yourself a slap to the thigh – again, makeup – but realized instantly that that had only made you hotter and more desperate. Maybe you should buy yourself a glass of water at the bar. With ice.

Yeah, that was probably for the best. That way, with a clearer head, you could tell your fiancé that you longed for him to dominate you again. The last time he had really gone for it was shortly after he’d proposed and that was almost a month ago. Way too much time wasted, in your opinion. So, you forced yourself out before he could send someone in to come check up on you, though not before making sure his ring was still on your finger, and made your way back to his side. However, when you got to the place at the bar where you had left him a few minutes ago, he was nowhere in sight. Stranded in a huge and fucking crowded club, great. Before you had the chance to actually panic, though, you heard a voice behind you.

“Date left you hanging?” The sultry tone instantly sent a shiver down your spine and you prayed to all the gods or whomever that it didn't belong to the gorgeous redhead. But of course, it did.

“What's your name, darling?” she asked once you had turned around to face her. She was even more beautiful up close and in the light.

You swallowed. “Y/N.” This was not good. Where the hell was Bucky?

The corners of her mouth quirked upward. “Are you nervous, Y/N?”

You nodded and mentally scolded yourself for it a second later.

“Afraid your boyfriend's gonna find out you're flirting with a strange woman?” The way she cocked her head to the side and the way she spoke to you like that, it painfully reminded you of Bucky.

And you felt the need to say yes. Not only to oblige her – damn your submissive ass – but to also gently tell her to back off because, no, you were neither single nor interested. Though to be fair, you couldn’t say you weren’t interested, hypothetically, but you were never going to do anything about it. And you weren't going to fall in love with her, either, no matter what way you went. You loved Bucky.

Speaking of.

“No need for that, baby,” he whispered into your ear from behind and your heart momentarily stopped beating. “Don't be spooked. I'm not mad.”

“You're not?” you asked with wide eyes, still staring at the woman who was now looking at Bucky behind you with an expression you couldn't put a name to.

“You told me I'd get more time with her.” The disappointed tone in her voice confused you to no end. What was going on?

He ran his hand up your arm, coming to rest on the nape of your neck. “Sorry, Nat, couldn't keep just watching. I had to join.”

“What?” You were utterly helpless.

“Happy Birthday.” Bucky added a few kisses to his words onto the skin just below your ear.

“What?” you asked again, this time speaking to the outstretched hand of the woman.

“Hi, I'm Natasha,” she said, “and I'm your birthday present.”

:::::

It started off innocently enough, but you were on your toes the entire time anyway. Bucky lead the both of you to the exit, a hand on either waist as your eyes darted around the room to catch the glare of envious strangers that you knew were longing to be in Bucky’s place. They had no idea.

He opened the doors to his car, offering you the passenger seat like you were used to. The only exception, this time, was that Natasha smoothly slipped in the back seat. Up until this point, you hadn’t been able to keep your eyes off of her, catching your gaze that found her again and again and now, in the car, that didn’t change. Your attention flickered from your fiancé to the image of your so-called birthday present in the side mirror. It was maddening.

Bucky’s hand found your thigh at a red light, just barely pushing up the fabric of your dress, and because he had chosen his automatic car for the evening, he didn’t have to let go when the light turned green.

A gasp flew out of your mouth so suddenly that you almost choked on it when Natasha reached for your neck from behind, pushing your hair to the side. Bucky snickered and you could hear her breath so incredibly close to your ear it was driving you insane.

“She does have a sensitive neck,” Natasha remarked when your breathing only quickened under her touch.

“Told you.” Bucky was looking at you through the corner of his eye, a sly smirk on his lips.

You were still waiting for the curtain to fall, for them to start laughing, to tell you it was all a joke. But the moment never came. Bucky pulled into parking garage of the club and the air was still thick with all sorts of emotions. Want, lust, your undeniable nervousness, and utter excitement. You wanted this, you realized in that instant and your fear turned into heat pooling in your center.

There weren’t any rules like you were used to. Bucky hadn’t told you what you were allowed to do and what was off limits. You were certain that he had discussed your dynamics with Natasha beforehand but you were still being thrown in the water. When Bucky opened the door for you, you leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Can we talk for a second, please?”

His whole demeanor changed. Gone was the dom the moment he took you by the hand and led you away from the car. “If you don’t want this, we can stop. You know that, right?”

You gave a sigh of relief. “No, I want this. I’m just not sure about the rules.”

Bucky smiled softly. “There are no rules except the ones that already apply. You are to enjoy this fully. Nothing with her is off limits. She’s filthier than we are, trust me. One thing, though, she’ll order you around in there and you’ll oblige, but you are still owned by me and me only. My word over hers.”

That made you smile in return. “Okay, thank you.”

He searched your eyes for signs of hesitation but when he saw nothing, he gave you a nod and pulled you back towards the car to collect Natasha and a gym bag he got from the trunk.

Again, the three of you walked side by side, but this time, he was holding hands with you, not touching Natasha. On wobbly knees, you tried to walk as steadily as possible and luckily, the room he lead you to, the one he always rented, wasn’t too far away. Too preoccupied in your head, you didn’t notice him checking you in at the front desk nor how he let go of your hand to unlock the door. Only when he stood in front of you and took your face in his hands, softly calling your name, did you come back to the present.

“Everything okay? Are you with me?”

You nodded, you throat suddenly too dry to form words.

Natasha plucked the gym bag from his shoulder, peeking inside. You didn’t know this, but she had requested a few items specifically. Bucky, on the other hand, pulled you in for a kiss that warmed you from the inside and had heat pooling between your legs even more than there already was. You wanted this and on top of everything, it was one of the best birthday presents you had ever received – at least, you hoped so.

When he pulled away, there was barely an inch between your noses and he was still close enough for you to feel his breath. You knew you were safe with him. If he trusted a person – Natasha – like this, he knew exactly what he was doing and who that person was. You wanted this.

Stepping back, his eyes were fixed on you when Natasha was suddenly in your line of sight. She wore a she studied you, hands relaxed by her sides. You didn’t know where to go from here, but one of them would tell you, you just needed to wait.

A quick glance between her and Bucky that told you that a huge amount of this was planned meticulously, and then she spoke. “You ready, darling?”

You nodded. You wanted this.

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tanyawritesstories · 4 years

Text

No Time Like The Present | Fives x reader

This is the very first fic I’ve ever posted! Exciting but also nerve wracking. Please leave comments and feedback, I would love constructive criticism or just plain criticism as long as it helps. I got permission to tag @hxldmxdxwn and @smokahuntis , professional fic writers and readers to review my first piece. Thank you both for letting me tag you! I hope you enjoy my very first fanfiction!

Warnings: None really, just fluff. Hardcase getting drunk, Fives being a chaotic boi.

“To the 501st!” The shout from the 6 men could be heard throughout every square foot of 79s. Were they celebrating anything, who knew. Did the boys of the 501st need a reason to celebrate?

“Cn we git anotherr round, (y/n) cyar’ika?” Hardcase slurred. “Only if you stop calling me cyar’ika?” You bargained. Hardcase hummed in thought. “Aight cyare,” he smirked. You cocked an eyebrow at him. Sure his words annoyed you but you couldn’t be mad at the inebriated trooper, you knew he wasn't normally like this.

“Hey, only I can call (y/n) ‘cyare’.” You looked to the right of Hardcase and saw your boyfriend Fives approaching the bar. "S ok Fives, I didn mean anythin m jus tryin a get a drink," Hardcase stumbled over his words. "I'll get your drink, you go back to the booth with the rest," Fives assured. Hardcase slipped off his barstool and nearly fell straight to the floor, luckily Fives managed to catch him before that. "Jesse, come help me with him," Fives called over his shoulder. The trooper in question got out of the booth and made his way to the bar. "C'mon vod, let's sit you down," Jesse said as he took Hardcase's arm and slung it over his shoulders. You and Fives watched as Jesse, with the help of Kix and Echo, managed to get Hardcase to sit down properly.

"Are you sure you want to give him another drink?" You questioned. "Just fill some shot glasses with water, he'll never know the difference," your boyfriend told you. You chuckled. "I'm surprised you're not drinking more." Fives leaned his elbows on the bar top. "Normally I would but I plan on taking someone home to my bed tonight and it's not easy when completely sloshed." "Yes, I know full well how you perform when drunk," you teased. Fives smirked mischievously, "Keep mocking me like that and I might sober up completely." You shot him a wink before walking to another part of the bar to help a customer. Once you got him a drink, you filled a few shot glasses with water and returned to Fives. "As per request for your extremely intoxicated brethren," you said as you sat the glasses down. "Thank you, cyare." You crossed your arms and leaned on the bar, "So, are you gonna tell me these plans that involve you, me, and your bed?" Fives stood up and took the glasses in his hands. "Control yourself, (y/n). We're in public," he joked, turning and making his way back to his booth. You gaped at his back as he walked away. “That’s rich coming from you trooper!” You called after him. Fives merely turned around and blew you a kiss.

~~~~

It had been a couple hours and the nightlife was still going strong. Echo and Dogma had volunteered to take Hardcase back to the barracks so Jesse, Kix, and Fives could have fun without having to watch him. After spending much time with his brothers, Fives had resorted to bugging you at the bar as your shift was nearing an end.

“Can’t you just leave 15 minutes early?” Your boyfriend whined. “No, Avi will be here soon to take my place, you can wait.” You finished making a drink and slid it to a customer a few seats down. “But I don’t want to wait that long." Fives rested his head in one hand while the other toyed with a little skewer that had held the fruit in the last drink you gave him. You moved to the opposite side of the bar and Fives couldn’t help but stare at you as you made another drink.

An idea popped into his head and a smug grin formed on his face as he thought about it. He put the skewer in between his thumb and index finger and used his other index finger to flick the skewer in your direction. He had planned on hitting you in the shoulder to get your attention but you moved at the last second, the tiny skewer hitting a clone officer in the chest. Fives’ eyes widened and he pretended to be looking at a drink menu to avoid suspicion. He continued to stare at the menu like it was the most interesting thing in the room until he noticed you had come to stand in front of him once again.

“How much time have I got?” He looked at the clock. “Ten minutes,” he answered. You sighed, couldn’t the time go any faster? Fives was just about to ask you for another drink when a new song started playing. He knew this song, it was one of his favorites! He looked around, taking note of the other two bartenders also working with you. “(Y/n) come dance with me.” You tilted your head to the side, “Babe, can’t you wait nine minutes?” “No I can’t, I like this song,” he protested. “I’m sure it’ll play again later.” He leaned halfway over the bar. “But I want to dance with you right now,” he pouted. You put your hands on the edge of the bar and locked eyes with your desperate boyfriend. “Fives, I’d love to dance with you but-“ “Good! No time like the present!” He exclaimed.

Before you could do anything, Fives had grabbed under your arms, lifted you up, and dragged you over the bar top. “Fives!” You yelped. You grabbed onto his shoulders to stabilize yourself as he pulled you, unknowingly knocking over a couple people’s drinks with your feet. He moved one arm to support your upper back and the other arm under your knees as you slid the rest of the way into his arms. He proceeded to carry you to the dance floor as several angry clones shouted from behind him. “I think they’re mad that you spilled their drinks,” you said as Fives set you down on your feet. “Nah, they’re just mad I get to have you and they don’t.” You shook your head in amusement and put your arms around his neck. “Without you my life would be so incredibly boring,” you disclosed. Fives put his hands on your hips and nudged you closer to him. “Are you saying I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had?” “I’m saying you’re the best boyfriend in the galaxy,” you said, pecking a kiss on his nose. “I am honored and flattered, my dear,” he said as he squeezed your hips and began swaying you both with the music. You laid your head on his chest and sighed contently, a smile automatically coming to your face. Fives smiled at your loving gesture and moved his hands to the middle of your back, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

The two of you swayed slowly to the next few songs, each of you enjoying the other's embrace. You lifted your head, your faces only centimeters from each other, “I love you, Fives.” “I love you too, (y/n),” he said with a smile. You stared lovingly into each other’s eyes before you both moved at the same time and your lips connected in a sweet and loving kiss. You hummed happily against his lips and he moved his hand to the back of your neck, deepening the connection. You could feel some of the unruly hairs of his usually neat beard tickling your chin and you giggled, prompting Fives to break away. “What’s so funny?” He asked, moving his hand to your cheek. “Oh nothing. My shift is probably over now, huh?” “Yes, I think it is. Go clock out and meet me by the door,” he kissed your forehead before letting you go to clock out and gather your things.

You met him by the door as you slung a bag over your shoulder. Fives pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on. “You ready to go?” “Yes, where are we off to?” Fives offered you his arm and you linked your arm with his. “I don’t know about you,” Fives said as you exited the club with him, “But I got a celebration invitation from my bed, I believe it sent one to you as well.” You both stopped at the platform to wait for transportation and you stepped in front of Fives. “Hmm, I never got any invitation,” you stated. “Then maybe you need a password to get in,” he challenged playfully, taking a step towards you. “Would that password happen to be CT-5555?” You questioned, also taking a step closer. “Yes, it is,” he concluded. Your lips clashed with the Arc troopers once again in a passionate kiss that held promises of more than just dancing.

#arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #fives #star wars the clone wars #my first fanfiction #501st bois

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kinghoranshit · 3 years

Text

Tell Me A Lie (NH) Ch 6

Word count: 1997

Warnings: swearing, minor assault

The following day was spent mostly indoors. Niall had more writing to do and it gave me the opportunity to finish editing. That was until Niall insisted we go out to take photos. He took us to all the popular spots, including the angel wings, and honestly it was fun. Very cliche, but fun.

He had a few people recognize him and ask for a photo. That was a bit bizarre. He was so nonchalant about it though.

After we got back, I went upstairs to lay down. I definitely needed time to recoup before going out again; especially if the crowds were going to be large. Clubs in Iowa aren’t necessarily wild, they could be but not in the way I assumed LA was. And the college I went to, Wartburg, was in the small town of Waverly which only had a couple bars and only one allowed under the drinking age kids. I didn’t really party until my final year when I’d realized I hadn’t experienced that part of college and it led to some terrible relationships.

Granted, I knew that life wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies; Wartburg wasn’t my first choice. It induced a lot of my anxiety nowadays, despite having it before it all went down. I could be negative about it, but it made me stronger in a way.

I rolled over onto my back and pinched the bridge of my nose. The frontal headache was slowly showing itself. I found my pill pocket and dragged my feet to the bathroom to use water from the sink. Then I rifled through my clothes to find my black elastic harness, white boxy tee, dusty blue satin skirt, ripped sheer tights, and black oxfords. I switched out the outfits before I somewhat settled on a focus on redoing my hair and makeup; I left it down, straightened it quickly and created a couple small braid strands, and did a darker ombre on my lids with winged liner.

“Holy… shite,” Niall breathed as he waltzed into the room wearing a blue suede trouser and jacket set with a white crew and brown boots.

I took a step back from the body mirror and turned around to observe what he was wearing. “How did we manage to match but not match at the same time?”

“It’s the blues for sure,” he replied.

“Right.” I turned back around to assess myself once more, deciding whether or not I needed any last touches. Niall came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my torso. His head rested on my shoulder.

“You look great, Kelly.”

“Would it be cheesy to get a mirror couple selfie? The fans would eat that up.”

His laugh vibrated against my back. “Use my phone.”

Niall held his phone out, keeping one arm around my torso. I stuck with a normal smile, that was before he surprised me with a kiss on the cheek. My expression scrunched up as my body curled inward. I couldn’t stop the giggles at the ideas that crossed my mind.

“Hold on, crouch down by my legs. I’m gonna take a fit pic and pretend I don’t see you.”

He had a hard time keeping a straight face, but we managed to get a couple good shots. “I know what I’m posting.”

Niall smiled as he flipped through his. “Me too.”

A minute later, there were Twitter and Instagram notifications from him. I opened it up to see he had attached a normal picture of me smiling and then one of me scrunching up my face as he kissed my cheek. The caption was ‘A night out dancing with this beautiful woman . Don’t get many of these lately . Love you babe <3”.

There goes the flutter in my chest again. Fuck. I mentally cleared my throat and moved my slightly shaky finger to like each post, then replied with “Love you too Nialler <3 <3”. As we slipped out into the night, I created my own posts. I chose one where Niall was looking right up at me and captioned it “Tonight’s fit feat. Niall. You’re my number one admirer. I love you always <3”.

I threw my phone into the temporary black, mini crossbody; I’d also thrown my wallet in it. If I’d worn jeans, I would’ve just put them in my pockets. My sight traveled to the blurred lights outside the window of our Uber’s car. There was definitely a vibe here; I could see why people loved to live here.

“What’s the first place we’re going to?”

“It’s a standard nightclub. Nothing over the top.”

I nodded. “Alright.”

My jaw dropped when we finally got inside. If this was standard, then I don’t want to know what the bouche nightclubs were like. The dance floor was enormous, dancers had their own little stages sporadically around it. I had to force myself to not stare at the beautiful women covered in glitter. I noted the bills in their straps. Maybe I’ll leave a tip for one of them at some point. Niall pulled us through the crowd of people and we stopped in front of the bar.

“What do you want?”

“Sprite and apple pucker.”

He nodded and faced the bartender again. I tried to not let the loud music overwhelm my mind. Niall lightly touched my arm and I looked back at him, in a small daze from observing the place, and everything and everyone in it. I sort of felt out of place; like I wasn’t really there. The feeling was too familiar, and I didn’t like it.

He set a clear square glass in my hand. I gave him a small smile and took a sip of it. The bubble popped on the top of my throat while the alcohol burned down. Niall had a Guinness in hand and took a swig of it.

I took a few more sips of the jolly rancher drink, observing once again, and I kept close to Niall. His presence, and sweet drink, made me feel somewhat better.

We found a nearby table to chill at for a bit. Let the alcohol soak in. I’d eventually gone to get refills for us. My eyes landed on one of the blonde dancers and she looked directly back at me. She smiled, turned to me, and reached a hand out.

“Dance with me!” she yelled.

I looked at her slightly dazed.

“Go on,” Niall encouraged.

I tried to not cough on my own spit. “Y-you’ll be fine for a few?”

“Of course. Go!”

I handed him my clutch, then let the dancer guide me up onto the platform floor. I swayed back and forth slowly, letting myself get lost. I recognized the next song, Tumblr Girls by G-Eazy feat. Christoph Anderson, and got giddy. I allowed myself to sync deeper with the music. My hips swayed more, and I brought my arms above my head.

The dancer closed in even more, resting hands on my hips, and grinded on one of my legs.

“You’ve got some moves! What’s your name?”

I flushed. “Lauren, and you too. You?”

“I’m Flora! Is that your boyfriend?”

“N-” I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah!”

She laughed. “Well, he seems to be enjoying this.”

Heat ran deeper in my cheeks and I glanced over my shoulder to see Niall watching. He had his elbow resting on the table, hand under his chin. His beer bottle hovered over his privates.

I bit my lip, laughing under my breath. “I gotta admit, I’m having fun too.”

After a couple more songs, I decided it was time to get off the stage. No one else seemed to be getting invited by the dancers to join them up there, so it was awkward now. I grabbed a ten out of my wallet and handed it to her.

“You are absolutely stunning Flora. Thanks for the fun!”

Flora kissed my cheek, then winked. “You too, babe.”

“That didn’t break any rules, right?” I took deep breaths to calm my high. I wanted to keep dancing for sure. Just not on show for everyone else.

He shrugged. “I won’t tell. Come on, I want a turn.” He reached his hand out and I smirked.

The music pace changed to something by ILLENIUM. I started to bounce with the rest of the crowd and did dumb arm movements. Niall busted a laugh, following my pattern. A few songs later, I had the urge to pee. It was immense.

I gestured towards where I remember seeing a restroom sign. “Gotta use the girls’ room. Be right back.”

I hurried into one of the stalls and relieved myself. I washed my hands and looked into the mirror, just as a girl who looked to be about a year or two older than me came out of a stall.

She looked at me deviously. “You look familiar.”

“Don’t we all in these places?” I laughed, slightly nervous.

“Yes, but no, you look familiar for a different reason.”

“I’m sure I do.” I busied myself with drying my hands. Then I exited without saying another word.

On my way back, a stranger touched my butt then pulled me into their chest to grind. “Shake that ass for me.

Without really thinking, I batted the hand away and turned around to throw a smack. “Fuck off!”

The guy glared. “What the hell, bitch?”

“You touched my body without consent! You’re the bitch!”

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “Your loss, baby! I got a date to get back to anyway!”

I didn’t bother giving a proper response. By the look on his face, I knew I wasn’t the only one who would give him shit for violating boundaries.

“What was the crack with that fella?” Niall asked, gesturing in the direction I came from.

“Nothing.” I shrugged.

He shot me a look. “You look pretty flustered, Kelly. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, can we just go home though? I-I’m tired.”

“Of course, yeah.”

Niall’s hand found mine. On our way out, the same guy glanced in our direction as he grinded with a different girl. A smirk spread on his lips, his hands tightening on her hips. There was a phantom feeling and I swallowed. I subtly ran my free shaky hand over the back of my skirt and looked away.

The night air was much cooler now compared to the inside of that club. We paused momentarily so Niall could call for another Uber. Niall wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on top of mine. A few minutes later, a Rover pulled up to the side and Niall approached to confirm it was for us. Then we both got in.

Niall’s hand didn’t let go of mine until we were back in the house. I couldn’t lie, I was grateful for it. I let go though.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m gonna get pjs on first.”

I couldn’t look at him before I left to go upstairs. I went for my oversized tee and floral shorts, and paused momentarily in the middle of the room. Finally, my feet moved toward the living room.

Niall was propped on the couch with a blanket and when he saw me, he opened it up for me to snuggle into. He enveloped me in his arms before he hit play on the movie he chose. My brain wasn’t registering much of it. I focused on the warmth of Niall. The sturdiness of his body. He was a firm base.

“That guy touched my butt and grinded on me without consent. I don’t really want to talk about it, but I also don’t want to brush it off.”

He tightened his arms around me, snuggling his face closer to mine. “I’m sorry that guys are so shite. You didn’t deserve that.”

I subtly shrugged, then whispered, “At least I’ve got you.”

I could hear him smile. “Always, Kelly.”

We both fell silent again and returned to the movie.

Next part: Ch 7 (to come...)

[Masterlist]

#Niall Horan #Niall horan fic #Niall horan fanfiction #Tell me a lie #romance #drama #comedy #ch 6

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amixiifish · 4 years

Text

Spin the Bottle

“Yo, Zuko!” Sokka calls, running up to him. Zuko glances behind him, and slows his pace to match the other’s.

“Yeah?” he responds, continuing walking.

“We’re having a post-finals party tonight at seven, my room. Wanna come?”

“Uh, sure, I guess? I’m not really busy or anything, so it’s ok,” he replies, uncertain. Sokka keeps his stride. Day classes had just ended, so they were just walking back to their dorms. They lived on the same floor, right across from each other, so walking up wasn’t awkward. Soon, they reach their floor and come to their doors.

“Crap, I forgot my keys, and Jet’s not supposed to be back until later. Mind if I crash at yours for now?” Zuko shrugs; it was a common occurrence by now, so he turned to let Sokka in. Closing the door behind them, he drops his bag haphazardly on the floor and goes straight to the fridge.

“Do you want something to drink or eat?” he asks, rummaging through it for something to eat. Sokka makes a noncommittal sound.

“I mean, there’ll be tons to drink tonight, if you get what I mean,” he says from his newly acquired place on the couch, where he was scrolling through Netflix for something to watch.

“But if you have any chips or something I could go for that.” Zuko pulls out a Sprite and a bag of Doritos and goes to sit with Sokka.

“Did you find anything good to watch?” he asks while opening the large bag and popping his drink open.

“Mhm, yeah. This one’s pretty good,” he says, the screen showing a crime and action TV show. They watch maybe the first five minutes before Katara, Zuko’s roommate and Sokka’s younger sister, bursts into the apartment. She runs frantically towards her bedroom then comes back out towards the kitchenette.

“Zuko, do you know where I put my lab report? I need it to pass my final, and my final’s in less than 10 minutes,” she asks, still panicked. He wracks his brain; didn’t he see that report on their shared desk earlier?

“Uh, I think it’s on the desk-” he barely manages to say before she runs off again.

“Thanks, see you later guys, bye!” Katara says as she practically sprints down the hall. He looks at Sokka who just shrugs and unpauses their show.

They sat there like that for nearly an hour before the party was supposed to start, so Zuko left Sokka there to watch the show while he went and changed. They cross the hall together and knock on the door. Jet opens it, and gestures at them grandly; he’s already tipsy, because otherwise he wouldn’t have welcomed them as such.

“Do you want to help us set up?”

“Sure, why not?”

The two of them (plus a useless Jet) get the drinks, food and audio system all set up to use. After setting up, people pour in quickly. Jet gets even more wasted, and by ten minutes, Zuko’s the only one who’s still sober.

“Zuko, come dance with us!” Sokka says, sidling up to him, slightly drunk.

“Uh. No thanks, I’ll pass,” he replies, inching away from the drinks so that Sokka doesn’t get completely inebriated.

“Why not? You never drink with us,” Sokka says, practically throwing himself on top of his friend.

“That’s okay. I’ll dance later, when Kat gets here.” Sokka frowns, despondent.

“You only ever hang out with her! She’s not even cool, like me! Am I not good enough?” He pouts, like a child. Zuko laughs mirthfully. He reaches over to ruffle at his hair.

“Of course not! Kat’s just the only one who doesn’t get completely wasted like you guys,” he explains. Sokka still pouts.

“Hmph. Suit yourself,” Sokka says, turning away from him. Zuko rolls his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll dance.”

Five songs and three drinks later, Zuko is incredibly tipsy and high-strung. Katara made it to the party during his third song, and she had watched him from the food and drinks table amusedly as he danced. She laughs as he makes his way down to her, attempting to weave through the throngs of people.

“Damn. Pretty boy went off,” she teases good-naturedly.

“Shut up, stupid,” he mumbles drunkenly as he pours himself another glass of the probably-most-likely-poisoned punch. She glances at his face and laughs again.

“Stupid? That’s the best you can do?”

He screws his face up at her like a child. “Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, stupid,” she shrugs, turning back to her drink. He scowls at her. Then he proceeds to drunkenly sway over to the speaker. He picks up the phone that was playing the music and switches it to a much better song- Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley, the king of the century. Immediately, the room is filled with drunken singing and the dance floor is completely clogged.

Katara sighs but watches them all amusedly. These were honors and AP students in one of the best universities of the world, and yet they all acted like children.

Slowly, people start pouring out, leaving an amused Katara, wasted Sokka, dizzy Jet, drunk Zuko, emotional Aang, and slightly high Toph.

“Let’s play spin the bottle,” Sokka says, slurring his words.Quiet murmurs of agreement fill the room.

Aang ends up kissing Toph, with many noises of disgust. He pecks her lips as quickly as humanly possible and they both wipe their lips aggressively afterward.

Sokka goes next, and lands on his boyfriend. He crosses over to Jet and their kiss goes on… for a bit too long, until Katara clears her throat.

“Uh! That’s enough of that, thank you. We don’t need to see your exhibitionism.” Toph looks in Aang’s direction, and both of them make retching noises. Zuko looks oddly flushed and hurries to spin on his turn.

He lands on Katara. They share a quick kiss and pull away as soon as possible.

“It’s like I just kissed Sokka but I actually care about the person this time,” Katara said, gagging.

“Preach,” Zuko mumbles, wiping his mouth. Toph spins again, landing on Sokka. They barely brush lips.

“This is gross! Why are we even doing this?” Toph complains. Zuko shrugs.

“It was Sokka’s idea, not mine,” Aang says when everyone turns to look at him.

“Sure,” Katara said. She spun and landed on Jet.

Both make a face but kiss very quick and pull away.

Aang laughs and Sokka grins. Zuko spins. He gulps when he sees where it lands. The tip of the bottle points at Sokka. Zuko looks up- Sokka grins at him.Zuko leans in, and Sokka meets him in the middle.

His breath tastes like the beer they’d been drinking earlier, and he nips at Zuko’s lips, biting lightly. Zuko opens his mouth slightly, allowing Sokka in. Sokka slides his tongue into his mouth, and Zuko practically moans, until Katara clears her throat.

“If y’all want to make out there’s a bedroom literally right behind us,” she informs them, deadpan. Sokka smirks, wolf-like, and pulls Zuko and a thoroughly inebriated Jet into the aforementioned room.

Zuko's blush lights aflame- was this really happening?

The door clicks shut. Sokka pushes them onto the bed, kissing him soundly.

“You know,” he says between kisses, “I’ve had a crush on you since we met that day at the library.”

“R-really?” he gasps as Sokka kisses his neck.

“Yeah.”

Jet sits next to them, slightly more sober after drinking a glass of water.

“Me too. Even though we were dating at the time, we decided that if we ever wanted a… plus one, so to speak, we would have you.”

Jet kisses his cheek softly.

“You two really-” he starts, cut off with a gasp as Sokka presses a kiss to his navel.

“Really liked me?” Jet smirks, kissing and biting where Sokka had just moments earlier.

“Yeah.”

“Mm- me too,” Zuko says between moans.

“Say it louder, sweetheart.”

Katara opens the door after an hour to see if Zuko wants to go back to their room, but instead finds the three boys half-dressed, asleep on top of each other. Yeah, they would be alright.

#jetokko #zukka #jetko #jet #zuko #toph #sokka #aang #katara #college au #modern #atla #our fic #verges slightly into smut territory

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offbrandmercyplates · 4 years

Text

Birthday fic from Yours the Author!

Ms. Emmibee: is me birthday day.

Me: *Tumbling down a flight of stairs, breaking a comical amount of theater vases that are made to be broken* HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

So yes! It’s Ms. Emmibee’s birthday, so we all know what that means! Presents and (cookie) cake! It’s not possible to send real cookie cake through the internet, though, but a present is a present!

I had actually planned this one out vaguely after the last update. It made sense that we wouldn’t get a lot of time in Temmie Village, since the plot must go on, but I figured most people would appreciate some cute Temmie and Emmibee action. I wrote this all out today. I don’t know if I quite captured the magic of Tem Village, but I like to think there’s a little bit of it here. I’ll let you decide for yourself. See you at the bottom!

What Could it Mean?

“Emmi, I kindly ask—and by ‘kindly’, I mean ‘in a way that won’t cause a scene’—that you stop vibrating so intensely.”

“But it’s Temmie Village, Dr. Gaster! I can’t not be excited!”

“The Temmies are excitable enough without you encouraging them. I’d rather not deal with any more hyperactivity than necessary.”

“Hyperactive or actively hyper?”

“…What?”

“What?”

“…Strange woman.”

“I know. But isn’t that why you like me?” “No more questions. Let’s just—”

“HOI!!!!” Dr. Gaster sighed for ten whole seconds as Emmibee gasped at her first in-person look at a Temmie. She bounced on the toes of her rubber rain boots as the little monster skipped over to them.

She was just as cute as she was in the game, but even smaller; probably no bigger than a munchkin cat. Her quadrupedal body was covered in short, soft white fur, two pairs of ears, a little mane of black hair, and a deep sky-blue shirt over the top half of her body.

Smiling giddily, Emmi pointed at her while grinning at the skeleton companion. “Undoubtedly, a Temmie.”

“Undoubtedly,” Dr. Gaster agreed. “Can we please—”

“HOI!!!” Another Temmie popped up.

“Behold, a Temmie,” Emmi bowed to the newcomer.

“I am aware. Can we—”

Another Temmie trotted over. “Could it be a Temmie?” Emmi wondered.

“Actually, I’m Bob. Nice to meet you,” Bob said. Emmi let out a high-pitched noise.

Dr. Gaster sighed again. “I’m going to the Tem Shop. Can I trust you won’t leave the village?” Emmi was currently chanting “hoi” with the growing group of Temmies. “…I suppose I can.” He made his way to the shop.

One of the Temmies suddenly wiggled her tail the way a cat does before it pounces and leapt up into Emmi’s arms. Emmi extended her arms to catch the Temmie, but a thought suddenly occurred to her: aren’t humans allergic to Temmies? The Temmie landed in her arms, and she instinctively adjusted herself for maximum comfort for the carrier and the carry-ee. Oh wait; I’m a monster now, she remembered. Does that still count? The Temmie she was holding vibrated gently in her arms, and the other Temmies and Bob crowded around her feet, looking a few seconds away from swarming her in a pile of cute. Guess it does.

As much as she would have loved to be swarmed in a pile of cute, Emmi didn’t know when she’d get a chance to explore Temmie Village like this again. Carefully wading through the tiny monsters, she began to look around the small cavern.

True to the game, the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of dark blue stone, but unlike the game, the air was cool and damp and seemed to somehow cast a shiny quality to the stone, if she looked at just the right angle and level of light. There wasn’t any quirky music playing in the background, but the air thrummed—no, vibrated—with an energy that could only be explained by the mysterious power of Temmie.

She took some time to say HOI to each Temmie she passed, admired the rich history of Tem and the statue of Tem, returned the compliments of an adamant Temmie (awawawa! bee lady… such a… cute!!!) and exchanged parenting tips with the parent of a special hardboiled egg (tem and bee… pROUD pARENTS!!!). Emmi considered saying hello to the owner of the Tem Shop, but one peek into the room revealed an irate Dr. Gaster trying to explain why he wouldn’t accept Tem flakes in exchange for all of the items he was selling. It would probably be best to leave him be.

That was when she spotted it: the dancing mushroom, swaying their arms to an invisible tune. Hugging the Temmie she was still holding tighter to her chest, she strode up to the mushroom, swaying her hips and bopping her head to the beat. She giggled and sang with them, “Mushroom dance, mushroom dance… what could it mean?”

The mushroom raised their cap to peer up at her, eyes narrow. “Failure is terrifying,” they said, “but not nearly as terrifying as success.”

The world suddenly stopped; not like a record scratch. It was more like if the planet had stopped spinning, but everyone wasn’t flung off into space. All of the cold and none of the water in the room seemed to cling to Emmi, getting under her raincoat, under her skin, coating her SOUL in an icy sheet. Her breath caught in her throat, her vision tunneled, and there was an intense feeling of being watched…

“Emmi?” The mushroom lowered their cap and went back to swaying. The Temmie in her arms hopped down, her face following a moment after. Emmi looked up to see Dr. Gaster putting something into the pocket of his lab coat and gesturing for her to follow him. “Time to go.”

Emmi’s legs felt a bit weird, like they had almost but not quite fallen asleep, and they were trying to remember how to work. The cold feeling lingered, though not as strongly as it had before Dr. Gaster brought her back to reality. She stumbled backwards, trying not to fall over as she stared at the mushroom again. They weren’t looking at her, preoccupied with their dance. The sudden shift in the mood had left her disoriented and a bit overwhelmed. What that mushroom said… it was way too on the nose for her liking. Had it not been for Dr. Gaster, she would have stood there for the rest of time as she tried to make sense of how that mushroom knew…

She would be grateful to the doctor for saving her from herself, even if he never found out.

“Coming…” she replied, taking one last look at the mushroom before steadily following Dr. Gaster out of Temmie Village.

***

It’s probably a good thing Emmibee didn’t go to the Temmie in the wall. She definitely didn’t need a double dose of the feeling of being watched. Poor Emmi. How did that mushroom know?

“Hyperactive or actively hyper” was a play on the joke “working hard or hardly working”. I was originally going to put a fourth wall breaking joke in that part of the story, but it occurred to me that Dr. Gaster wouldn’t let that go so easily.

Emmi identifying the Temmies (hey, that rhymed!) is a reference to the snow poffs of Snowdin. You all probably already know this, but interacting with every snow poff will tell you that, indeed, you are interacting with a snow poff.

Temmies have a rich history. What is that history? It’s rich. That’s all you need to know, and all you’ll ever find out, probably.

Emmi is going to be a parent sometime soon (skelebaby boys!), so it’d be a good idea to get parenting tips from an experienced parent, even if that parent’s child is a hardboiled egg. Every bit helps!

The scene with the mushroom is what really inspired me to write this. Visually, the shading in that penultimate panel was stunning. I wanted to translate what it looked like Emmibee was feeling into words. What did she see? What did she feel, physically and emotionally? These are questions I have to know the answers to as an author, and if they’re not written already, I’ll write down my own interpretations.

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO EMMIBEE! One year older, bolder, and wiser! Despite everything, I hope this is a good one for you. I mean it. I’ll be posting this to FFN and AO3, if you’re okay with that. Looking forward to more of your content, be it a full comic page or a textpost gushing about a cute kitten gif. Until then! ~~~ AAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH????? I really really loved doing this scene and you did it justice absolutely PERFECTLY. Emmi’s excitement about experiencing the Underground knows no bounds!! (Also, her dancing along with the mushroom is EXACTLY what I was imagining)

I’m really happy you enjoyed the page! It feels kind of filler-y to me, but it really is important to both the narrative and tone of the story. More pages will be coming soon I promise!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE BIRTHDAY WISHES

Feel free to post this on your FF and AO3 accounts!

THANK YOU AGAIN AAAAAAAAAAAA

#OBMPfanfic #Yours the Author #another lovely fic from the Author #what a treat!!!#i do like cookie cake thank you VERY much i will take all of it #this fic really does capture this scene almost closer to how i imagined it than the comic itself #well done!#submission

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jamielea81 · 5 years

Text

Conversations

Chapter 2

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing

A/N: Here is chapter two! Cast members are what Disney calls its employees. Italics are internal thoughts. Tag list is open, please send an ask if you would like to be added. Likes, comments, and reblogs are wonderful.

Chapter 1

When he added you on Twitter, that was strange enough. You could reason it out that he saw your name spread through the tagged post and he did it on a whim. Or maybe he followed a lot of people. But that one was easily debunked after a quick glance at his profile showed he only followed about three hundred people. Maybe he was just friendly in that way. A quick add here and you’d be unfollowed by Thanksgiving. There was no chance he actually liked you as a person. Right?

You hit reply before you could overthink it more than you already had.

Y/N: I’m not always grumpy, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Are you guys still on vacation or back home?

When he didn’t immediately reply, you decided to put your phone away and actually go to sleep. You’d be bringing Jana coffee in the morning which meant you actually had to get up before noon.

Your alarm sounded at eight which it hadn’t done in at least a year. Since you worked mainly on assignment, you rarely went into the office until well past noon. Some days you didn’t even go in. You were a night owl, so unless there was a morning meeting you slept in. Living alone also brought less interruptions to your schedule. You’d been in your sleepy vacation style home for the last two years. Your father regularly lectured you on the importance of homeowner ship. Paying rent wasn’t doing anything to build equity. Blah. Blah. Blah. He was only looking out for your future, but between lectures about settling down and having a family, the house stuff pushed you over the top. You still weren’t sure where you wanted to end up, so buying wasn’t on the top of your priority list.

Florida really was a mixed bag. Between the retires that lived in Florida during the winter months, the tourists, the general crazies that you heard about on the national and local news each night, and those like yourself that were just trying to live your life, you never officially settled in. The ocean called to you, but the pricey lifestyle and fear of evacuating each year due to a hurricane did not. Being fifteen minutes from both the Disney and Universal parks would also be nice, but the traffic and long lines at Target were not appealing. You were currently living in a cute two-bedroom home fifteen minutes outside the parks bubble where life was a little more affordable and groceries weren’t inflated. It was still technically a vacation rental, but the owner liked the idea of having a long-term leaser. The fact that it had its own pool that you didn’t have to maintain was just an added bonus. Driving into Orlando wasn’t great, but at least you missed the bulk of rush hour by sleeping in.

You texted Jana to let her know you just pulled in to the parking lot. Balancing your laptop bag, oversized purse, and two coffees through a busy office rotunda wasn’t easy. Thank goodness for stylish flats. If you had to navigate in heels every day, you’d probably never get out of bed. God bless Jana. How she handled it, you had no idea.

The security desk knew you by name, but due to protocol, Jana actually had to sign you in. After exchanging a few good mornings, you set both cups on the desk and waited. Most of the time she was already in the lobby when you walked through the double doors. No doubt this was a form of punishment for not telling her about meeting the two boys from Boston. Not that you looked that up or anything. You totally didn’t Google anything that night when you got home. And she calls you the brat. Ten minutes later her smiling face walks out of the elevator and up to the security desk. She signs you in while you stare her down.

“Let’s go pokey,” she says before turning away from you, leaving you to carry your bags and both of your coffees.

You huff but manage anyway, making it to the waiting elevator she holds open with her hand.

“Did you know Phil’s wife just had another baby?” She shakes her head no. “Yeah, it’s their third. These are things I wouldn’t know if you didn’t take your sweet time signing me in. Coffee’s cold by the way,” you add for good measure.

“I already had some, that’s fine,” she said, one eyebrow pointed daring you to complain.

When the elevator stops on the twelfth floor, Jana gracefully exits on three inch heels, swaying her hips in the tight and posh pencil skirt with matching blazer. You get it. It’s a well-established law firm full of sharks all trying to get ahead. She exudes confidence. There are whispers of her making partner in the next year. At least that’s what Brooks has told you. Jana’s mum on the subject, not wanting to jinx or tempt fate or whatever.

You drop her coffee in the trash bin just outside the elevator doors and hurry after.

“Y/N! Nice to see you gracing us with your presence.”

Jana turns around to see Ethan’s predatory stare. You don’t mind it. Ethan’s a sheep in wolf’s clothing and has been coming on to you for the better part of a year. He’s good looking with his sandy brown hair coiffed in the front and bright green eyes. He’s up for partner as well. You know this because he tells you this at least once a week. He’s harmless and always has a kind word for you.

“Well, good morning to you too. Any word on getting partner yet?” you practically whisper. You have to give him something.

“Soon. It’ll happen.” He looks behind you and then meets your eyes again. “Here by yourself? Come to see me?” he asked.

You gesture behind him. “Nope. Just here to see my bestie.” You move past him, but turn your head to him as you do. “Have a good day, Ethan,” you reply.

Jana enters her office and closes the door after you enter. You take a seat in front of her desk as she walks around to sit behind it.

“Are you ever going to throw him a bone? Not that I want to see you with him, but it’s hard to watch sometimes,” she says picking up her phone, fingers moving quickly before setting it back down.

“Am I here to talk about Ethan? I thought I was here to beg for your forgiveness and tell you what happened,” you asked.

“Grovel first. Ethan next week,” Jana says with a smile. She taps her desk in a ‘speak now’ fashion.

Taking a quick sip of your coffee before setting it on her desk, you take a deep breath and lick your lips.

“Okay, so I found a table at Nomad, which was packed by the way. The sever was apparently pulling double duty as Mickey as she just never showed up. You know me, I was impatient and probably drew attention to myself with excessive eyerolls or whatever.”

Jana mouths “no way.”

“Anyway. Scott Evans was sitting at a couch across the aisle from my table. I didn’t know it was him until later. Apparently, I caught his attention, so he bought us both a drink and sat at my table. We chatted for a while, did a shot, no big deal.” You smirk and shrug a shoulder. Jana’s mouth is hanging open. “He somehow drags me to Everest and because they had a cast member with them, we got ushered right to the front of the line where I end up sitting next to Chris. That’s when I knew who I was with. Had no idea before that because I hadn’t talked to Chris at the bar. I thought that was the end of it until you mentioned the photo of me last night. I still hate that ride by the way.”

You down the rest of your coffee because it’s cold, but damnit if you don’t need the caffeine.

“Well, fuck. Who would ever see that coming? It’s a fun story you can tell at parties or I don’t know, to your best friend,” she said.

“Oh, I planned to tell Brooks at work,” you said with a grin.

“Wow. I’m really hurt,” Jana said while clutching her chest.

“You love me.”

“Hmph. Maybe,” Jana added.

You don’t check your Twitter account again until you get home from work. You don’t even want to utter the word Twitter or have it on your screen in case someone sees it and starts asking how you were able to sit next to a celebrity on a ride. You didn’t think anyone would have seen it anyway. No one outwardly admitted to being a die-hard Chris Evans fan at the Sentinel. At least not in the circles you ran in.

Grabbing yourself a beer from the fridge, you made your way onto your lanai. The weather had just started to become reasonable at night with temps dropping into the mid seventies after dark. Still warm, but comfortable.

Opening your Twitter app, you did indeed have a message from Scott.

Scott: I’m pretty sure you’re always sassy.

Scott: Nope, in Boston for the next week. Left the other night.

Y/N: I Hope you all had a good trip.

I mean really, what do you say to someone you just met?

You took the time to go through your follow requests, deleting every one of them as you had no idea who they were. Most likely they were only adding your because they saw that you were tagged in the picture. On the positive, Jana was smart enough to tag your personal account rather than your work account. Your personal account was one you made up in college and did not include your actual name. As hard as it is to keep your anonymity in this day and age, some things you could still keep private.

Your mail notification lit up on the app again so you clicked into.

Scott: Oh my god she’s alive. That was like a full day for you to respond to me.

Oh boy.

Y/N: Sorry. I’m trying to lay low after my Twitter kind of blew up.

Scott: Yeah, sorry about that. Didn’t see that coming.

Y/N: Not like you released the picture. If anyone is to blame, it’s the tequila.

Scott: It’s always the tequila.

Your new formed friendship continued like that. The two of you messaging each other at odd times of the day and taking several hours to respond to one another. Scott was back in LA, putting a three hour time difference between the two of you. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up to see you had a message that came in at three in the morning.

It was just before midnight when you noticed you had a message from Scott.

Scott: It’s been a shit day.

It was only sent about twenty minutes earlier, which was pretty much a record for the two of you in seeing the other’s messages.

Y/N: Do you want to call me?

Crap! Why did I type that? He probably doesn’t want me to have his number. Twitter is one thing. A telephone number is too personal.

You wanted to close the app and get ready for bed, but you were worried that you’d miss a message from Scott in case he did want to talk. Not necessarily on the phone, but in direct messages. You did the only thing that made since, you walked around your house with the phone in your hand and direct messages open. This was your life now. Apparently. If it ever got out that you spent thirty minutes with your phone in your hand while brushing your teeth, combing your hair, removing your makeup, changing into pajama shorts and a tee, and prepping the coffee maker for the morning, you’d blame it on lack of sleep and the neighbor’s dog. When you were about to call it quits and crawl into bed, a message came through.

Scott: What’s your number?

So, we’re doing this.

You replied back with your number and waited. Deciding to crawl into bed in case he didn’t actually call you tonight seemed like a wise choice. The air conditioning was blasting as it always was because you needed to sleep cold, so you pulled your warm flower comforter up to your elbows and waited for a call from your acquaintance that was maybe becoming a friend.

To your surprise your phone did ring with an out of state area code. Answering it on the second ring you heard him sigh when you answered with “Hello, this is Grumpy.”

“Really? I’m the grumpy one tonight, we both can’t be,” he whined out.

“Fine. Fine. Hello, this is Sassy,” you said.

“Better,” he muttered.

“You know, I’m just going to enter you as Grumpy in my phone contacts now,” you said.

“I expect nothing less. You’ll just have to wait to see what I’m adding you as.”

“Why? Are you making a return trip to Florida so soon?” you asked.

“Nah. Maybe Miami, but I’m good on Orlando for a while. Just don’t tell my brother that.”

“And here I was going to invite you to my wedding. One less mouth to feed,” you said, him chuckling at your response. “Was even going to let you get the steak.”

“Wait. Are you really getting married?” He sounded surprised which you weren’t sure how to take.

“Do I not seem the marrying type? I know this friendship is new, but dude.”

“No. No. No. Don’t start that. I just meant that you didn’t mention anyone while we chatted. Just that you were there with friends,” he explained.

“Single as a bird. Wait, that’s not right. Free as a bird?” you laughed out.

“Got it,” he chuckled. “When you do get married, I will be attending.”

“Perfect. You’re back on the short list for steak as your entrée. Now, tell my why you’re having a shit day,” you asked.

Two weeks had passed with you and Scott exchanging short text conversations each day. You took to calling him before you went to bed once or twice a week if you had a funny story to tell him. Eleven at night your time seemed to be the right time to catch each other. Besides, it was nice to head to dreamland with a smile on your face because Scott always had a joke.

Jana picked up on your happier mood after a week.

“What’s going on with you? And don’t say it’s nothing,” she demanded.

Picking up your pint of beer, you took a mouthful of the amber liquid before addressing her.

“So, don’t get mad.” She shook her head, resting one palm on her forehead. “Scott and I have been chatting. He’s become a real friend.”

You knew she wouldn’t be upset about you having a new friend, but you were worried she would be because you hadn’t told her right away. First you didn’t mention meeting the Evans brothers, now you were corresponding with one on the regular.

“Just like that? You meet the guy one time and now you’re friends?” she questioned.

“He DM’d me on Twitter when that ride photo came out and we just started chatting. It’s like how you and I text every day. It’s similar except I don’t see him because he doesn’t live here. It’s just nice to have a new friend,” you said shrugging your shoulders.

She laid her slender arms on the table, resting her chin on her down facing palms. “Does this mean you are replacing me?” she says with her bottom lip jutting out.

“Of course not. Did you not catch that he doesn’t live here?” Some days you couldn’t help but be a huge smartass at the expense of your friends.

Her head slumped forward even more as she let of a groan.

“Babe. You know you’re my one and only. I lub you,” you said with your lips puckering out.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“Cah’mon, that’s it. Can you put the damn phone down for two minutes?” Chris asked.

Scott shushed him, placing his fingers in front of his lips, but eyes still locked on the phone screen in his other hand. “Give me a second,” he said.

Chris sighed and sat further back against the couch cushion in his living room. His wide stretched legs kicked out further in front of him, hitting the coffee table before pulling his feet back a bit. “Fuck. Ouch,” he muttered to himself.

Scott chuckled to himself as he typed out something before setting the phone on the cushion beside him. “Now, what do you need big brother?”

“I don’t need anything. You just seem to be more involved with your phone than the person your visiting,” he spits out, hand wildly gesturing in front of his chest.

Scott puffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He straightens up a bit and turns his phone face down. “Sorry. Truly. How’ve you been?” he asks.

“How’ve I been? Pfft. Really?” Chris asks.

Scott shakes his head in all seriousness.

“I’m fine. Just bored out of my fahckin’ mind, but fine.” Chris says, running a hand through his hair before brushing it back down. “Look, I know I said I wanted a break before starting up another project, but I just thought I’d have more goin’ on. Seems like everyone’s so busy all of a sudden. I can only get drinks with Frankie so many times before I want to check into rehab,” he said.

Scott laughed at his brother’s tantrum. “I get it. Wish I was around more. Maybe go back to Mass. Or go to Disney! M’sure I could get Y/N to meet you at Magic Kingdom,” he said.

Chris tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Who?” he asked.

“Y/N,” Scott said matter-of-factly. When the confusion didn’t wipe off Chris’ face, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Y/N! The woman that you sat next to on Everest. The one in the ride photo.”

Realization struck Chris. “Excuse me. I didn’t remember her name,” he said.

“Ouch. I’ll have to remember not to tell her that,” he said picking up his phone to see a new message from you.

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

Scott set his phone back down, turning his body to face Chris head on. “Huh?”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her that I didn’t remember her name,” Chris said.

Scott shrugged one shoulder, lifting up one hand in the process before plopping it back on his knee. “Yeah?”

“Wait a minute. Are you still talkin’ to her? How?” Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“That picture. She got tagged in it and I happened to see it. Messaged her on there and now we talk. She’s frickin’ hilarious.”

Scott grabbed his phone again, scrolling a bit before flashing the screen to Chris. It was a picture of you with a woman next to you who had one of the overly large lollipops in her hand. Your mouth is wide open and your pretending to bite the large candy right out of her hand while she laughs in the picture.

A small smile curls up on Chris’ face but he shakes it away immediately. “Dude, you don’t know her. Ever think she’s just nice to you because of who you are?”

Scott rolls his eyes. “First off punk, she’s not like that. She’s pretty private. She didn’t know who any of us were until after you said your name on the ride. Secondly, she didn’t even ask for a photo nor did she try to keep hanging out with us after riding Everest.” Chris rolled his eyes this time. “Thirdly, I contacted her, not the other way around. And lastly, she’s a friend now, so just deal with it.”

Scott was right. You hadn’t behaved like most others would have.

“Fine. Whatever,” Chris said. “You can be friends with whoever you like.”

“Thanks, dad,” Scott said lamely. “Anyway, like I said, she’s great. Her Twitter blew up after that picture. She did a good job of locking her account down and ignoring comments. It’s hard to be pictured with the likes of you.” Chris chuckled and shook his head. “Smart that her handle isn’t actually her name. Crappy that her friend tagged her, but at least she didn’t tag her work one. Like I said, she’s a pretty private person, so she didn’t like the attention.”

Chris nodded his head. “Yeah. Glad it wasn’t worse for her. Think I should apologize?”

It was Scott’s turn to be shocked. His head whipping back and forth a couple of times eyeing his brother. “Okaaay. Not your fault, but maybe don’t add her on Twitter. That’ll just draw more attention. If you’re serious, I’ll give you her number,” Scott said.

“You know what? Never mind. Just tell her sorry for me.” Chris slapped his hands down on his jean clad legs before getting up and walking into the kitchen.

“Too late,” Scott called out. “I just texted you her number. Do what you want.”

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The Jonas Brothers’ concert was tomorrow night, so you were doing your best to get stuff done at the paper before heading home. You planned to sleep in extra late and get some errands done before heading to the venue. Your press pass got you into some reserved places at concerts, but it didn’t get you an interview. While you had been writing and covering entertainment for years, you were mostly known for theme park and tourism coverage in Florida. So, yes you could always land an interview with a Disney Parks or Universal Studios park executive, but other doors in entertainment weren’t flying open.

Grabbing your purse and zip file, you shut down your computer and pushed in your chair. Your phone dinged with a text message. It was probably Jana asking you to get her a t-shirt at the concert tomorrow. Fancy attorney or not, your friend loved a concert tee.

Once you arrived home, you put a frozen meal in the microwave and changed into a pair of sweats and a comfy t-shirt. Grabbing your phone out of your bag, you took a seat sat at your kitchen bar top to wait for your meal to be done. Opening your texts, you saw a new one from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey Y/N, this is Chris. Scott gave me your number.

Unknown Number: Evans

Unknow Number: Should have typed that the first time. Just wanted to say I’m sorry that ride photo got out.

You dropped your phone out of your hand. It hit the quartz countertop hard which jolted you out of your daze.

“What?!” you yelled into your empty home.

It was crazy enough when Scott messaged you, but the fact that the two of you had drank together made this whole friendship make a tiny bit of sense. But Chris now? This was just not real. And it made you feel weird. On one hand it was nice that he reached out even though it wasn’t his fault at all. One the other hand, was this it? The one text and then you move on?

The microwave beeped at your harshly indicating your meal was done. Leaving your phone on the countertop, you moved to grab your food, picking up the hot plate with a potholder. You made your way into the living room, setting the potholder and plate on your lap. You picked up the remote for the TV, flipping through the channels and settling on The Golden Girls. Maybe a little Rose and Dorothy banter could settle your mind.

This was silly. You were going to text him back. Of course, you were going to text him back. You weren’t a rude person. This whole exchange didn’t have to mean anything. This would be a one and done conversation and to Chris you would go on being nothing more than Scott’s friend.

After scarfing down your cheese ravioli, you made your way back to the kitchen to clean up. You eyed the phone on the counter where you left it. You quickly scooped it up and plopped yourself back on the couch, opening Chris’ text again before you could change your mind.

Y/N: Thank you for reaching out, but that photo getting released was not your fault at all. I appreciate the gesture though.

You threw your head back against your couch cushion and groaned. Why am I responding like it’s a work e-mail?

You shot Jana a text to get your mind off of the message you just sent Chris.

Y/N: What size Jonas Brothers shirt am I picking up for you?

Your phone buzzed in your hand before you even had the chance to set it down, but it wasn’t Jana responding. Clicking the back arrow, you saw that Chris had responded.

Wait, he responded? Already? And at all?

Chris: I still feel bad that you were dragged into it.

Chris: Hope I’m not interrupting a Friday night out.

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to think of how to respond. Should you tell the truth that your life is pretty lame and you’re watching The Golden Girls? Did Scott talk about you to Chris? Maybe it was best not to lie.

Y/N: Just hanging out with my friends Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose.

Y/N: You’re actually saving me from another long drawn out story about Rose’s hometown of St. Olaf Minnesota.

Chris: I’m surprised your friend Blanche is home on a Friday night.

Y/N: Oh, you know Blanche? Is this going to become awkward?

Chris: 😂😂😂

Chapter 3

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