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raunchyom · 4 years

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Vices, Not Virtues: Charity

[ Chapter 2 ]

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A/N: Man, this took a helluva lot longer than I thought it would. It also ended up being a helluva lot longer than I thought it would, despite what I said on the last chapter. Oops. Hope y’all like long fics ^^’ Tagging: @devintrinidad

word count: 3k || warnings: n/a

Since arriving in the Devildom, you’d been perpetually busy.

Whether baking with Luke or shopping with Asmo, reading with Satan or snacking with Beel, practicing magic with Solomon or playing body pillow for Belphie, going to class or doing mountains of homework-- it was always something, and it always added up to a very full schedule.

Today was no different. Lucifer had insisted on keeping you until you were practically asleep in his study last night, only relenting because you had class the next day. And it wasn’t as if you could fall asleep when you got back to your room-- you had things due tomorrow, and a full schedule to try and get back on track of.

You’d mostly succeeded on the homework front, even finishing with enough time for a solid 4 hours of sleep that night. The pre-class D.D.D. tutorial you’d promised to Simeon happened right on schedule, and you successfully stayed awake for your entire first and second periods. You snuck out of third period to help Asmo with his latest fashion emergency, then managed the rest of third and fourth period without a hitch. You spent lunch listening to the newest anime-oriented drama from Levi, then attended the last of your classes. A text popped up from Beel just thirty minutes before school was over that he made a mistake, and needed your advice. You went ahead and offered to help clean the kitchen, already guessing what had happened. Overall, it was a pretty standard day.

Well, standard or not, once you’d gotten back to your room-- and finished cleaning up the wreckage that Beel had severely understated in his messages-- it was late, with a lot left to do. You opened your door, mentally blocking out how much time it should take to complete everything. Your math left you confident that you could get 4 hours of sleep again tonight, maybe even 5 if you really focused. You set your backpack down, feeling better, and flopped into your desk chair. The second your butt hit the cushion, you felt your D.D.D. buzz from your pocket.

You groaned, head hitting the desk with a soft ‘thunk’. Didn’t your phone know that you were busy?

As if it could hear your thoughts, the device vibrated again, eliciting a sigh. Pity party successfully waylaid, you dug your D.D.D. out of your pocket and checked the notifications.

It was a string of texts, all from Mammon. First he asked what you were doing, then where you were. The next one said to forget both of those; he needed you to come help him with homework in his room. When you hadn’t answered fast enough, he began to spam you with angry emojis.

He was acting like a brat, but that was his version of begging. He was always struggling in his classes, and your tutoring usually helped; you couldn’t fault him for wanting to improve his grades. And so, ignoring everything you had to do, you decided to help him. After all, isn’t that what being a good friend is all about?

You stood up, tossing your backpack on again. If you factored your study session into your schedule, that would put you at 4 hours of sleep tops. No, the likelihood it would only take an hour was slim; probably 3.5 hours of sleep. Another text-- make that two-- made your D.D.D. buzz again; both demanding you reply, the second saying you didn’t have a choice in whether to help. ...Maybe 2.5 hours.

Your first knock on his door was met with silence, and you briefly considered leaving to do your own homework. But no-- you came to help, you should help.

“Mammon?” You tried again, knocking louder.

“Finally! Get in here already!” He yelled through the door.

Mammon was on his couch, backpack tossed a good ways away from him. Though he had a textbook on his coffee table, and plenty of papers scattered across the surface, he didn’t seem to be working on anything specific. It didn’t help that he was upside-down on his couch; his legs thrown over the back cushion and head hanging off the front. It wasn’t the typical doing-homework pose, but far be it from you to tell what Mammon was thinking.

“You sure took your time!” He tossed his D.D.D. to the side, pointing an accusing finger in your direction.

“I walked straight here when I got your texts.”

“Yeah, well, you should already know when I want ya here.” He huffed, then practically fell off the couch amidst his panicked backpedaling. “Not-- Not that I want ya here, I mean! The Great Mammon doesn’t want some human around, crampin’ his style! I just--!” He rolled into a normal sitting position, the redness in his face no longer the result of being upside-down.

“You wanted my help with homework, right?” You tried to throw him a life raft, but it went right over his head.

“What? Homework? We had homework!?” He asked, now looking frazzled for a different reason. You took a deep breath, briefly wondering how this scatterbrain remembered to put pants on every morning.

“Mammon, why did you ask me to come over?” You finally asked, trying to get him back on track.

“I asked… oh! Yeah! I uh…” He glanced at his table, a mess of papers that he hadn’t looked at since dumping them out of his folder. He looked back up at you expectantly. “Mc, do you have any money?”

...Oh, so that’s what this was about. It was hard not to feel disappointed that he had lied to get you here, but at least he got right to the point. “Yeah, sure, what happ-- ah, whatever. How much do you need?”

You reached for your wallet, hoping to just fork over the grimm and go back to what you were doing. He hadn’t asked in a while, so this was probably legit. Probably. He would promise to pay it back, with every intention of doing so, and then forget to, or run into more debt. It was a vicious cycle; you were happy to not be a part of it. Well, at least it was nice while it lasted.

“What? No, that’s not-- ya shouldn’t be handin’ out money like that!” Mammon nagged, effectively freezing your hand in midair. If he didn’t want money, why was he asking? “You don’t needta give your stuff away to people just ‘cause they ask, that’s how people take advantage of ya!”

At first, his behavior didn’t make sense, but the gears started turning on what was going on. You shoved your wallet back into place, trying not to sound as exhausted as you felt. “Is this because of Lucifer?”

“Lucifer?” He echoed, confused.

“You know, his whole idea of giving you guys a week to…” You gestured vaguely, not wanting to say ‘teach me to sin’ for multiple reasons; “uh, talk to me?”

“Whaddya mean Lucifer?” He sounded affronted at the thought. “It was MY idea!” He huffed, crossing his arms.

“You thought of this?” It was surprising, but you felt inclined to believe him. He didn’t like to admit that he cared; he wouldn’t suddenly lie about being worried enough to bring it up to his brothers. Either way, as sweet as it was, good intentions wouldn’t save your grades. But maybe if he had gotten you into this mess, he could get you out of it. At the very least, he might be able to get you out of today’s lecture. “Mammon, I really appreciate it, but I don’t have time to--”

“Exactly! Ya never have time!” He launched up off the couch, flinging his arms out dramatically as he spoke. “You’re always givin’ it away to everybody else! Just like your stuff, and your grimm! Do ya ever even spend anythin’ on yourself?”

“Of course I do.” You replied easily. He made it seem as if you were emptying your pockets for anyone who asked. You weren’t some human piggy bank, you bought yourself stuff all the time.

“Oh yeah? When’s the last time ya bought somethin’ for yourself, then? And food doesn’t count! Neither does stuff ya need for school, or takin’ care of yourself. When’s the last time ya bought something just ‘cause ya wanted it?” He asked, hands on his hips.

“I, uh…” That was a lot of rules. You tried to flip back in your mind. You weren’t exactly a big spender; certainly not since you’d arrived in the Devildom with so little time to work for extra cash. To Mammon’s point, you could only think of things you bought out of necessity. A snack when you didn’t have time for lunch. A new pair of shoes when yours were falling apart. Some toiletries when you needed them. A new uniform when your jacket was torn beyond repair, and you didn’t want to bother anyone about it.

“But you’re always buyin’ stuff for others!” Mammon let your thoughts wander enough to make his point, but he had to cut in eventually. “Remember how I usedta ask for money all the time?”

“I mean-- it’s been a while.” It was a meager attempt at defense, but it was true. You couldn’t remember the last time he came to your door, brown-nosing his way into your pockets.

“Yeah, well, when ya first got here, you gave your grimm away freely, always buyin’ stuff for people-- so I thought ya had a buncha money. Then I heard Lucifer sayin’ ya don’t have much, and you were sayin’ ya wanted to save some, so I stopped askin’! But nobody else knows, so they keep askin’, and you keep givin’ it to ‘em! I know you don’t have stuff to be givin’ away either, I’ve been through--” He caught himself before he admitted it out loud, but you were well aware of the fact that Mammon had rooted through your stuff at the beginning. He had stopped at this point… you hoped. “No one here wants to take advantage of ya, but they don’t know they’re doin’ it. Ya gotta tell people not to ask for so much-- I mean, I’m the avatar of greed, and I feel bad takin’ your stuff! I bet the others would feel the same!”

It was hard to tell whether he cared more about your financial situation or about making his brothers feel guilty. “I think--”

“Don’t even get me started about your time!” Mammon didn’t let you get a word in edgewise, advancing towards you as he ranted. He didn’t realize he was doing it; the action a subconscious result of his rising emotions. You took a few steps back, but soon bumped into furniture and had to stop. “You’re always busy, and ya got tons’a homework, but ya never say no when people ask for help! Do ya even have time to be here right now? Or do ya have somethin’ you could be doin’ instead?”

It was a fair point, but hard to take from the one who’d brought you here. “It’s fine, I like to help out.”

“Help yourself out!” This was the second time within 24 hours that you’d gotten chewed out for not taking proper care of yourself. There was a familiar churning in your gut-- a leaden mixture of guilt and anxiety. Not to mention a dash of adrenaline from being within range of an angry demon. That last one happened a lot around here, though. “Try sayin’ no to people once in awhile! You stretch yourself too thin and eventually there’s gonna be nothin’ left!”

Mammon finally took a breath, letting his shoulders slump as he exhaled. He averted his eyes, his voice much softer when he next spoke. “Besides… I miss ya, Mc. You keep givin’ away your time, and overworkin’ yourself, and all of a sudden… I never see ya anymore.”

His gaze flitted back to your face, and it finally dawned on him just how close he’d gotten. He was nearly pinning you against his pool table at this point. His face turned bright red, and he leapt backwards, crossing his arms to maintain his pride. “A-Anyway! You don’t owe anyone anything. So stop acting like it.”

“I don’t act like--”

“Oi, and don’t interrupt the Great Mammon!”

You rolled your eyes, but conceded. He had been difficult from his very first text tonight, it was probably easier to just humor him at this point.

“Ya play therapist for the house all the time. Ya mediate fights, listen to people’s problems, give out advice when you’re asked-- even when ya don’t know what to say. Maybe it’s about time ya let us know when ya aren’t up to it. I mean, no one's gonna fault ya for takin’ a vacation day.” It wasn’t a perfect metaphor, but it conveyed his point well enough. “The house has been a lot calmer since ya got here. Everybody knows it-- you do too, dontcha?”

It was true that you’d been complimented on your demon-wrangling skills by many people before. ...Including the brothers, oftentimes. “Well, yeah, but you guys should always be able to come to me. I want to be there for you.”

“Well I wanna be there for you, too!” Mammon blurted, looking desperate. Well, until he realized what he said, his expression then switching to panic as he frantically backpedaled. “I mean-- we do! T-They do! Or-- everyone else does, but I-I’ve got better stuff to… Ah, what am I sayin’? We all wanna be there for ya, Mc. But that means when ya have a hard day, and we ask if ya have time... ya gotta say no. How would you feel, if ya learned that we all forced ourselves to be around ya?”

A pang of guilt shot through your chest. “It isn’t like that; you guys aren’t a burden. I want to help--”

“Yeah, and I wanna sell Levi’s expensive shut-in stuff for extra cash, but sometimes ya gotta think about what ya wanna do versus what ya can do. I’m not very… I mean, I dunno about uh, emotions and... all that, but…” Suddenly Mammon’s tsundere thing made a lot of sense; he was a lot better at denial than candor. “Well, ya can’t help us if ya can’t help yourself!”

Again, he had a point. This time he wasn’t being a hypocrite, so it made it harder to come up with a rebuttal. “Everyone has bad days, I don’t have to shut people out whenever I’m not at one hundred percent.”

“Man, you sure are lucky Lucifer has a soft spot for ya. All this back talk would get me in hot water.” Mammon sighed. “Just listen to me for once, wouldja?”

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. He chose to interpret it as a yes.

“I know ya wanna have some free time. And I know ya wanna keep some of your money saved up, whatever it’s for. Well… If sayin’ no is hard for ya, maybe we can start ya off with a test drive.”

“A… test drive...?” Nope, he lost you.

“Y’see, I’ll take the fall tonight. I’m gonna say we’re studyin’. Or that I’m still givin’ ya my peace. But… go back to your room, do whatcha want. Don’t matter what-- homework, sleepin’, whatever. Just don’t let anyone take it from ya. Matter’a fact, if someone asks for ya: practice sayin’ no. If ya gotta give ‘em a reason, tell ‘em it’s my fault.”

“You sure?” He was essentially offering to be your guard dog for the night, which was quite a monumental task-- especially since people already assumed Mammon was at fault for things in general, and wouldn’t hesitate to take their anger out on him.

“Yeah, yeah; just don’t go and think I’m gonna keep doin’ this forever! Ya gotta learn to say no on your own, without me havin’ to do it for you all the time! I got goldie to worry about, I don’t need another credit card overspendin’ itself and-- w-well, I just don’t wanna haveta deal with it if ya run outta money and come cryin’ to-- oi!” You wrapped him in a hug, able to feel the shock run up his spine at your sign of gratitude.

“I-I toldja, I ain’t doin’ it for you!” Mammon protested, but near instantly caved; stealing the chance to hug you back. He puffed out a defeated breath, adding, “I’m gonna watch out for ya human, I mean it. I wanna make sure you can keep gettin’ better, so… If ya ever gotta turn someone down in the future, or tell ‘em no for any reason, and ya can’t bring yourself to do it… You can always tell ‘em it’s on me. I’m your first man, you can always depend on me to help ya out.”

“Thank you, really.” He held you for just a beat longer before he relented, switching back to his brusque demeanor the moment he let go.

“Yeah, yeah, keep thankin’ me and you’re gonna waste all your free time before it even starts. Get outta here already! I got stuff to do too, y’know.” He waved you off, but he was refusing eye contact for a reason.

Leaving Mammon’s room, your steps felt light, and a rush of warmth flooded your chest as you recalled his praise. Sure, it was followed by nagging, or saying it wasn’t always good for you-- but it was definitely nice to hear that the brothers really did think of you as their confidant.

You stood a little taller; almost as if you felt a sense of pride.

#om!#obey me #obey me swd #obey me mammon #om mammon #obey me x reader #obey me mammon x reader #gn!mc #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #sfw #fluff #comfort

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magnoliasinbloom · 4 years

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Say You Won’t Let Go

Inspired by James Arthur’s song, a brief retelling of a life well lived and loved.

AO3

I met you in the dark, you lit me up You made me feel as though I was enough We danced the night away, we drank too much I held your hair back when You were throwing up

Jamie was elated. And very drunk. Claire had danced with him, then proceeded to drink all of their friends under the table. He was cautious to believe the tight grip she had on him as they had swayed to the music was anything other than the alcohol, but he could hope, could he not?

Invited by Geillis, his feisty neighbor, to try and distract him after the sudden death of his father a few months ago, he had accepted, knowing that Claire – Geillis’s equally feisty, curly-headed roommate, would be there too. His Sassenach… or at least, that’s how he referred to her privately, in the recesses of his mind, and his heart. Jamie had been hopelessly in love with her for a year now.

Celebrating the end of their medical school exams, the party raged on, growing louder and more raucous as the night wore on. Eventually, they were kicked out at closing time. Guiding Claire and Geillis to the street corner as he summoned an Uber on his phone, Geillis suddenly changed tack and declared she would be spending the night with her boyfriend, Arthur Duncan.

“Ye can manage, can’t ye, Jamie? Braw lad.” With a hearty slap on the back, Geillis tottered over to Arthur, who welcomed her with open arms as they tried repeatedly to hail a cab.

Of the two, Jamie was in better, slightly less drunk condition. Claire, completely sloshed, leaned heavily on Jamie, who felt his face redden as her breasts pressed against him. The Uber pulled up, and Jamie opened the door for her.

“Och, lass, in ye get, come on.” He supported her as she climbed into the passenger seat, averting his eyes as her dress rucked further up her legs. Claire slumped into the seat as he buckled her in.

“You…shhhmell good, Fraser.” Christ, she was properly sozzled, if she was calling him by his surname.

“Um, thank ye?” Jamie shook his head as he slid into the opposite side, and they were driven to their apartment building.

After helping an increasingly uncooperative Claire up the stairs (the lift conveniently out of service), finding the key in her purse, and leading her to her bedroom, she made a beeline for the bathroom instead, where he could hear her vomit.

“Oh God.” Jamie followed her into the bathroom and immediately reached down to hold her hair back. He thought of how tempted he had always been to touch the mad riot of her hair.

Then you smiled over your shoulder For a minute, I was stone-cold sober I pulled you closer to my chest And you asked me to stay over I said, I already told ya I think that you should get some rest

Jamie helped her rinse her mouth out at the sink. Claire turned to him with a sweet, drunken smile that went straight to his wame. He managed to return it somewhat shakily as he led her to her bed.

“You should sh-shtay, Jamie,” she slurred, patting the space next to her. Jamie felt the last of the whisky fog leave him, and he felt quite awake and sober suddenly. She could not possibly be suggesting…

“No, Sassenach, ‘tis not proper, you’re not in yer right senses.” He tucked her in and fussed about with the blankets, that she might not see his face.

“Mebbe not, but I know what I want.” What was that saying, children and drunks always tell the truth? “An’ I want you, Jamie. Have for a looong time. Since we met, I think. Yeshhh, that’s right. You are pretty…” She batted at his face absently.

Jamie’s heart went into overdrive, pounding crazily, but he ignored it. She was out of it with drink. She would not remember this tomorrow. But perhaps she was right, and he should stay in case she was sick again or tried to walk and had an accident. He’d take the lumpy couch he’d helped haul up from the charity shop where Geillis had found it.

Claire’s eyes were already drifting shut. He would leave her to rest. As he made to leave, Jamie couldn’t resist smoothing the curls from her forehead.

As he did so, Claire’s eyes fluttered open one last time and she sighed, “I think I will marry you, Fraser. Cosss I love you.”

And with that, she finally passed out.

I knew I loved you then But you'd never know 'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go I know I needed you But I never showed But I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old Just say you won't let go Just say you won't let go

“I like ye Claire. I’d like to ask ye on a date.”

Jamie wiped the sweat off his forehead and thought he looked feckin’ ridiculous, with his face aflame enough to match his hair as he practiced in front of the pub’s restroom mirror. It had been a week since the drunken flat encounter.

Claire had woken him up with the brightest smile this side of hung over and a cup of steaming coffee. That luminosity and that lazy curl playing on her forehead… Despite her declarations of love and the fact that she’d like to marry him (two thoughts that made his heart flip flop thrillingly in the vicinity of his throat), Jamie felt a date was in order first and foremost.

Jamie glanced once more at the graffiti surrounding his face in the mirror, took a deep breath, and stepped out back into the pub. Claire was at the bar, laughing at something Geillis had said (something dirty, no doubt).

With a deep breath, Jamie stepped closer to Claire and leaned in close so she could hear him over the din of the place.

“Claire, could I speak wi’ ye outside fer a minute?”

“Sure, Jamie. Hey Gee, order me another whisky?”

“Sorted!”

Outside in the warm June night, Jamie faced a quizzical-looking Claire. Her smile caused his heart to stutter and the following to tumble from his mouth:

“You date me, Claire and I’d ask to like ye on a – ah, mallaichte bas!”

Not at all how he’d imagined it going.

“What?” Claire’s cheeks turned rosy red as she laughed, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. He ran his fingers through his flaming hair and chuckled.

“I apologize, I meant to say—”

“Oh, I know what you meant. I like you, and I’d love to go out on a date with you.”

I'll wake you up with some breakfast in bed I'll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head And I'll take the kids to school Wave them goodbye And I'll thank my lucky stars for that night

“Six bairns, you say.” Claire rolled the r like he did, endearing as ever.

“Aye, wi’ red hair, of course.”

“All of them?”

“Well, no, not necessarily, but I imagine it would be curly, like yers.” Jamie traced the spiraling locks down her back, stretching the curls and watching in fascination as they sprang back into place.

Their first date had gone smashingly well. They had shared dinner, then drinks, and hours and hours of laughter and jokes. This was a side of Claire Jamie had never seen, but suspected he wanted to be his forever. That date had led to another, and coffee in the morning or afternoons, depending on the schedule of Claire’s graduate entry program.

The more time they spent together, the more they realized the strength of the bond between them. Jamie spoke of when he first saw her, how he called her his Sassenach in his head and heart, and mo nighean donn for the first time out loud; Claire herself confessed that she had always found him attractive, and kindhearted, and amazingly available, despite the looks he commanded from the other girls in their social group. Their friendship had turned to that indefinable else – love, acknowledged and declared in a passionate kiss that had ended in them exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. There had been many other times since.

Jamie shifted in the bed, tracing tickling patterns on her back as she sighed contentedly. Her whisky eyes were barely discernible in the candlelit glow of his room, but he could see them open at half-mast; that glint of desire that matched his own and prompted their next words.

“Perhaps we should get started. Six is a lot of children.” Claire reached down to grasp him firmly, but Jamie shied away with a brief laugh, clasping her hand instead.

“I’d like to marry ye first, Sassenach.”

“Well, that could be some time from now, Jamie,” she pouted, still trying to touch him as he skirted her roving hands and pulled the nightstand drawer open.

“It could be weeks, or even days if ye wanted.” He produced a small black velvet box and knelt on the bed, where Claire went suddenly still with a small gasp.

“I believe ye had already decided ye wanted to marry me, that time you were fair gone with drink after yer exams, but I thought I’d ask properly.”

“Oh, I remember.” Claire smiled faintly, tears coursing down her face. “The occasion, not what I actually said. Remind me?”

“I ken what I want,” Jamie said, recalling her words. “I want ye, Claire. I have for a long time, ever since we met. Ye are beautiful, Sassenach, and I want to marry ye. Because I love ye. Will ye have me?”

When you looked over your shoulder For a minute, I forget that I'm older I wanna dance with you right now Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever And I swear that everyday'll get better You make me feel this way somehow

The church was lit with small votives that lent an understated glow to the stained-glass windows. Jamie thought his heart was going to burst as Claire walked towards him on the arm of her beloved Uncle Lamb.

She was beautiful, seeming to float in her gauzy wedding dress. The smile on her face, though – that was pure magic. Surrounded by their nearest and dearest—his godfather in representation of his late Mam and Da, his siblings, her medical school colleagues, her uncle standing in for her own departed parents—Claire and Jamie pledged their love for each other.

“Ye are blood of my blood,” Jamie said, voice trembling slightly, “and bone of my bone. I give ye my body, that we two may be one. I give ye my spirit, ‘til our life shall be done.” He placed a thin gold wedding band on Claire’s finger, and she clung to his hands tightly as she repeated the vow and slid a matching ring onto his.

They walked out of the small Scottish church to the applause and cheers of their friends waving sparklers in the Highland summer twilight. At the reception Claire felt shivers walk up her spine as Jamie traced her bare shoulders ever so gently while Uncle Lamb recited Burns.

Till a the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi the sun; I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o life shall run…

Jamie leaned in to whisper into Claire’s ear. “Yer face is my heart, Sassenach, and the love of ye is my soul.”

I'm so in love with you And I hope you know Darling your love is more than worth its weight in gold We've come so far my dear Look how we've grown And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old Just say you won't let go Just say you won't let go

Jamie watched Claire sleeping on her side, hands tucked dreamily under her head. He traced the curve of her swelling belly with eyes, then tender hands, lightly so as not to wake his very pregnant wife.

He wondered if it would be a wee lad or lass. They had decided not to find out, and be properly surprised until the day. Their other child, Faith, was eagerly awaiting her baby brother or sister. He made a mental note to buy a couple of small gifts to give the ween, on behalf of the new bairn.

Claire stirred, shifting, and her golden eyes landed on him, smiling drowsily and patting the space next to her on the bed.

“What’re you doing? Watching me sleep again?”

“Aye, love. Ye ken me well.”

“Stalker.” She yawned and carefully turned, cradling the heft of her belly as she did so. He lay behind her, his chest to her back, and placed his hands on hers.

“Have ye thought more on names?” Jamie’s big hands caressed her gently, moving to press against her back as she moaned in relief.

“Oh, right there, yes… I have some ideas. Well, an idea. What do you think of Brian if it’s a boy, after your da? Or Brianna, if it’s a girl?”

Jamie’s breath caught in his throat, touched beyond words. A brief squeeze of her shoulder told her all he had to say about her suggestion.

“It’s settled then,” she murmured, half asleep again. Jamie let her go under, slipping carefully out of bed. He went about his nighttime routine: turning lights off, checking doors and windows to make sure they were locked, a final peek at Faith in her big-girl bed, clutching her worn lovey.

Finally, he climbed back into bed, facing Claire this time. He found himself drawn to her features again, in peaceful slumber, until he closed his eyes as he fell in love with her again.

I wanna live with you Even when we're ghosts 'Cause you were always there for me when I needed you most

Jamie had Claire’s hands in a death grip as Dr. Rawlings waited quietly for them to process the news. He could feel the delicate tracery of veins in her hands, could recite them from memory, every mark, every spot, every loving wrinkle 76 years of life had wrought on her skin.

Breast cancer. Jamie’s stomach was lodged somewhere in his throat and Claire—his wife, life’s blood, his heart—sat next to him, stone still, her knuckles white with the strength of her control.

“Alright,” Claire finally broke the terrified silence. “Radiation, chemo, the usual, right?”

“We could start there. Another option you may want to consider is a double mastectomy, given we are at a stage two diagnosis. With radiation, your chances of cancer returning drop significantly.”

Jamie found his voice. “What are her chances of… of survival?”

“Each case is individual.” Dr. Rawlings cleared his throat. “Mrs. Fraser’s chances are extremely good, however. We’ve detected it relatively early, and with proper treatment, she has excellent chances. But as you know,” he said, addressing Claire directly now, “we cannot make any firm promises.”

“We understand.” Claire released Jamie’s hands and brushed her fingers lightly over her clavicle, no doubt thinking of the betrayal she felt her body had committed.

“Please take some time to discuss your options with your husband. I’ll give you some privacy.” The doctor stood and shut the door behind him.

The silence returned, deafening in Jamie’s ears and pounding inside his head, despite the multitude of thoughts and the paralyzing fear he felt. He turned to Claire, tears in his eyes; he found steely resolve in hers.

“Jamie, I want the mastectomy.” She swallowed hard and touched the tops of her breasts again. “I think it’s the surest way. I don’t want the chemo. I’ll have the radiation to be sure, but the children—”

“The children are grown, Sassenach. They have children of their own. I ken ye dinna want them to worry for ye, but they’ll want to help, they’ll want to be there with ye every step o’ the way. As do I, Claire.” He reached for her hand again and kissed it.

“So, you agree to the surgery? It means both my breasts will be removed. Jamie, my body—” Claire choked on the last word, tears finally streaming down her cheeks.

“Yer body is beautiful, Sassenach. It will always be beautiful to me, I will always love ye as ye are, no matter what.” He reached across his chair to envelop her in his arms, rubbing up and down her back while she went quietly to pieces.

“I can bear pain myself,” he said softly into her hair, “but I couldna bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.” Jamie pressed a kiss on her temple and leaned back to look Claire square in the eye. “But I will continue to learn from ye, and be yer strength when ye need it most, love. I will support yer choice.”

Claire took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “The surgery. It’s early days, Jamie. I have a very good chance. But if you’d rather I go through chemo instead…”

“It’s yer mind, and yer good, good heart that I cherish, and I’ll always love and adore yer body no matter what.”

I'm gonna love you 'til My lungs give out I promise 'til death we part like in our vows So I wrote this song for you, now everybody knows Finally it's just you and me 'til we're grey and old Just say you won't let go Just say you won't let go

Jamie was dreaming.

She walked across the field of heather at Lallybroch, wild dark hair dancing in the wind. Claire. His Sassenach.

He was dreaming because she looked young again, as she had when they had first met. He was dreaming because Claire had been gone for 2 years, passing away in her sleep after battling cancer. Taking his heart with her.

“Mo nighean donn.”

“Jamie.” She reached out and cradled his cheek in her hand. He covered her hand in his own and marveled at the feel of her, a dream or memory no longer, and he understood.

“Am I… dead?”

“You are, my love. In the general sense of the word.” A brief tinge of regret flashed in her amber eyes, to be replaced by fathomless love. “But you are also here with me.”

Jamie looked down and saw his own aged and careworn body, lying peacefully on its side near the broch where he had been walking. He looked like he was sleeping. He remembered stumbling suddenly, falling, and then no more. Despite his advanced age, despite his children’s words, he had refused to stop his morning strolls, and now…

“Will they find me?”

“Brianna sent Roger after you. He will be with her, don’t worry. And Faith has Robert, and they have their children. They will all be alright, after a while.”

“I dinna wish to cause our children pain.” Jamie slid his arms around Claire’s waist, burrowing into her neck and still marveling at the realness, the wonder of her again.

“Pain is a part of life. It is a testament to how much we have loved.”

Jamie pulled away from her, intense and tender at once. “I never stopped, Claire. Ye must ken that. Loving you. These past two years, I have existed, but not lived. For Faith and Brianna, the weans, I tried to go on.” It seemed important, somehow, for him to say this now. “I continued, for their sakes—though I would not have, for my own.”

That miraculous touch again. “They will take comfort in the knowledge that you and I are together again.”

Jamie took her face in his and kissed her mouth, warm honey as he’d always known it, as he remembered. “Forever?”

Claire smiled, luminous. “That amount of time does not exist.”

Hand in hand, they walked into the light.

Just say you won't let go Oh, just say you won't let go

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #say you won't let go #hope you like them

230 notes · View notes

spiderman-homecomeme · 4 years

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you know how to treat it (you know how to eat it)

in which a very drunk Peter calls MJ late one night and tells her about one of his biggest fantasies

thotumn. day 6 & 9. face-sitting. “Shut up.” “Why don’t you make me?”

Thank you again @spideysmjs for setting this up! and bc i am a grandma i don’t know how to schedule things correctly, so this is goin up a little early! Enjoy!

Michelle blinks, eyes itching with exhaustion as she finally closes the textbook in her lap, tossing aside the convoluted words and scribbled notes. It’s late, too late for having an eight AM class in the morning, but Dr. Wheeler seems to have it out for her class, sending out an assignment with just twelve hours to go. You won’t have time in the real world, she’d said. People will throw things at you and ask for it back in an hour, she’d said.

While MJ didn’t doubt the validity of that statement, she thought thirty pages of notes with no warning was a little excessive. This is just undergrad.

Her phone pings, and she knows it’s from Cindy, ranting about that very same assignment. And sure enough, she sees the text wall, the string of upside down smiley-faces. Tapping out a reply in solidarity and a quick good night, MJ sets her phone aside, flopping back against the mattress and tugging the blanket up to her chin.

She’s just turned off her bedside lamp, just nestled into the covers, just found the that perfect spot on the bed, when the buzzing of her phone on the nightstand yanks her back into the conscious world.

Blowing a puff of air through her lips, her curls landing back on her face as she sits up, she grabs for her phone. And even if she’s a little annoyed, a sleepy smile stretches across her lips as Peter’s face lights up the screen.

“Hey.” Her voice comes out in a tired, croaky murmur.

“Emmmmmmm Jaaaaaaaaaaay,” Peter draws out warmly, so much so that she swears she can see his silly, delirious grin.

So he’s drunk.

“Hey, Pete,” she says again, falling back against the pillows. “What’s up?”

“Jus’ wanted to call and say hi—” he says slowly, as if he’s careful not to trip over his words, trying to sound sober even though he’s very much not. “—to my beautiful girlfriend.”

She cracks another smile, glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand, knocking her feet together. “At… One in the morning?”

Peter gasps. “Aw, shit. Em, did I wake you?”

“Well, no. Not really,” she lets out a light laugh. “I was just getting in bed.”

“Oh. Okay, good.” She hears shifting on his side, hearing him almost drop the phone as he shuffles around what she assumes is his own bed. “Yeah, me too. Harry, Ned, and I went out and… I’ve been drinking. Just a li’l bit. But we got home and I just was like ‘Wow! I really wanna hear MJ’s voice.’ So I called you. Here I am.”

The ooey, gooey side of her that melts when Peter says anything of the sort threatens to come out, and for not the first time, she’s glad to not live in the dorms anymore, her only roommate being on the other side of the apartment. “Cute,” she says.

“Just know I’m giving you the biggest phone-hug right now.” His voice is muffled as he no doubt pushes the phone against his face.

Even cuter.

And even though she feels a little silly, she squeezes her phone, too. “Weirdo,” she says, unable to hide the affection in her tone—though to be fair, she’s not really trying all that hard.

“But you loooooove meeeeee.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And I love you!” There’s more shuffling on his end, his grunts from trying to get comfortable making her grin. He lets out a long sigh. “God, I can’t wait to see you this weekend.”

MJ’s chest warms at the reminder. “Me neither.”

“We’re gonna have so much sex.”

The snort she lets out surprises her—almost as much as what he’s just said. While she doesn’t doubt his statement—because yeah, she definitely misses that—she just can’t help but laugh. “How much have you had to drink?” She asks.

“Just a li’l…” He mumbles, though from his tone she can tell that he’s severely understating how much he’s had to drink. “Like… I’m drunk but like—I’m not… Druuuunk. You know? Like, I’m not, ‘woooooooooo party!!’ drunk.”

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she nods, even though he can’t see her. “Yeah. Sure. Uh huh.”

“I’m jus’ sleepy,” he says innocently. “Very, very sleepy.”

“Then you should go to sleep,” She teases, her cheeks starting to hurt. “Get some rest, Tiger,” she says softly.

“I wanna talk to you first, though,” he says, and she can almost hear the pout in his tone. It makes her shake her head fondly. “I miss you. A lot. So much.”

A pang of something tugs at MJ’s heart. “I miss you, too,” she replies earnestly, a lump forming in her throat.

They knew what they were getting into, going long-distance. What, with Peter choosing to stay at Empire State and Michelle choosing Princeton. It wasn’t too long of a drive, by any means, but it was still an hour and a half. It meant not being able to see each other on the busiest days. It meant having to go weeks without seeing each other, without holding or kissing each other. And it was nights like this, long nights after rough study sessions that she wished they could be together, that she could cuddle up to him and squeeze away all of her worries, even if just for a few moments.

She refuses to let this get to her right now, though. Not while they’re on the phone in the middle of the night. Especially not while he’s intoxicated.

“God, I wish you were here,” she hears him breathe into the phone, and she has to crack a smile at that, biting her bottom lip. That tone is one she’s very familiar with. “With me. In my bed.”

She holds back another snort at that. “Yeah?”

“It’d be pretty nice,” he continues. “I just wanna…”

He trails off a bit, and she’s wondering if he’s fallen asleep when the words tumble out of his mouth.

“Just wanna taste you.”

“Peter!” She scolds him lightly, not expecting him to go from zero to a hundred that quickly.

“I love eating you out, though. Oh my God.”

She can feel her face absolutely burning now, hearing his gruff voice right in her ear; she can picture it so clearly, his head buried between her legs, his curls tickling her thighs as he—

“And you know what’d be, like, really cool?”

She has to laugh at that, covering her mouth, unconsciously crossing her legs. “What?”

There’s another bout of silence where he doesn’t say anything. “I’ve been thinking about this so much, oh my God. But like… I really wanna eat you out but… with like you above me? Y’know? There’s a word, or some term for that I know but I can’t think of it…” His voice lowers to a mumble at the end, and she can hear him take a deep breath as he tries to think. His drunken, fuzzy laugh tugs at her chest.

Her lips twist into a knowing smile, her face hot, a gentle ache forming between her thighs as her own breathing starts to slow. “You want me to sit on your face?”

“Fuck, yeah. That’s it. God, Em. You’re so smart.” He hums. “That’d be so great. So hot.”

“I try,” she jokes.

“You always suc—succeed,” he says, pausing as he tries to navigate each syllable. “I just can’t stop thinking about you and like—your thighs just around my head and you—you just grinding yourself on my face. Fuck—”

She almost hates Peter for bringing this up—drunk or not—because now it’s all she’s going to be able to think about for the next few days until they can see each other. Squeezing her legs together to relieve some of the ache, she smiles. “That does sound pretty cool.”

“Right? So cool. So cool.”

“I mean,” she starts slowly, her fingers absently playing with a loose thread on the blanket. “We could probably try that,” she offers with a feigned sense of nonchalance. There’s nothing casual about how she’s feeling right now. This is definitely something she’s going to have to talk to sober Peter about tomorrow. Or the next time she sees him.

Not ignoring this. At all.

“Wait. Fuck—Really?”

And again, she has to hold back the laugh at how enthusiastic he sounds, feeling that dumb, warm fuzzy feeling even when he’s talking about wanting her to sit on his face.

“Yeah,” she replies, a little breathless.

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” he beams into the phone. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And not just because you let me eat you out—”

She swears, if he says, ‘eat you out,’ one more time—

“—But also because you’re so smart, and so funny, and so pretty, and just so amazing, and such a good person and I’m so lucky to have you, like, holy shit. I really hit the jackpot.”

She can only manage a short, near-timid response. It’s not a strange occurrence, her boyfriend showering her with praise—this is just a day in her life being with him. But hearing his soft voice at one in the morning—even drunk—somehow just hits differently. “Well, jeez, Pete…”

“I love cuddling with you, and holding you, and kissing you—”

“—And having sex with me?” She asks, teasing.

“—Especially having sex with you. F’course.”

His voice is starting to trail off, syllables melting together as he fights to stay awake. She wants to call him on his shit, to tease him for tapping out after drunkenly trying to initiate phone sex—sure, it might have been doomed from the start, but it could’ve been fun.

Instead, she laughs, listening as his breathing slows. She smiles hearing his gentle snore.

When he texts her the next morning, he doesn’t mention his little fantasy. In fact, he doesn’t seem to remember their late night phone call at all. The night before is all just a fuzzy, blurry haze of too much tequila shots, according to him. And given how he doesn’t remember the exact number of adult beverages he’d had—it has to be somewhere in the late teens with his super-liver and super-kidneys—it’s not all that surprising that his initial good morning text is just a series of the throwing-up emoji.

At least, she would sincerely hope that’s not related to what he’d said last night.

But still, she decides to take this opportunity to both mess with the love of her life, and surprise him—her two favorite things. This decision comes from how clueless he acts when she asks, the series of question marks that follow her question about what exactly he remembers. She doesn’t fill Peter in on what he said, keeping it all to herself. No, the less he actually knows, the better the surprise will actually be. And the fact that he’s apparently been thinking about this for a long time—all without saying something—just makes it all the more sweeter.

And just as she’d thought, she can’t get Peter’s words out of her mind. With another visit coming up in the next two days, it almost makes the wait even worse. Everytime she so much as stops whatever busy-work she’s doing, her brain immediately swerves back into that lane. In class, in the library, on the quad, in her apartment. It’s all too much. It doesn’t matter. Ever since Peter said that, she hasn’t known peace.

It takes everything in her the next night not to bring it up again during their regular skype call.

No, she’s able to get a grip, at least to some degree.

But every sense of self-control goes flying out the window as soon as she’s on his doorstep.

The door to his apartment isn’t even closed before MJ’s on him. She’s been dangling this “surprise” over his head for the past two days—two days too many. Her kisses are greedy, drinking him in as she grabs fistfulls of his shirt and nearly ripping it off of him. And she revels in the feeling—as she always does—of his skin under her touch after so long apart. The feeling of his hands roaming her hips and waist, needy and insistent, fingers digging into her skin is the high she needs, the one she always needs, that she can’t imagine living without.

“So you really don’t remember what you said on the phone the other night?” She asks against his mouth, perched on his lap, his hands gripping her hips as she unconsciously grinds down.

Peter’s eyes squeeze shut at the feeling, his grip tightening as he breathes out a laugh. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Mmm…” A floaty smile tugs at the corner of her lips as they gently press against his in a deceptively chaste kiss. “Shame.”

He pulls back after a moment, something in his eyes saying that he’s already picked up on her tone. “Was it good? Bad?”

Her hands wander up, hanging around his shoulders, one playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as she squints playfully at him. “I’d say good.”

“Oh?” He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks up at her. “Well, cool. Glad I don’t have to worry about saying something stupid.”

“No, you always have to worry about that.”

“Hey!”

With a swift pinch to her sides, she jerks forward, curling into him with a surprised yelp.

“Don’t be rude,” he says through a laugh, still tickling her. “What did I say?”

“Okay—okay, fine!” Michelle pushes him away, unable to hide the humor in her tone. “I’ll tell you. Or—I guess I’ll show you?”

“‘Kay…” Peter looks up at her with wide, curious eyes; especially when she stands up, removing her shirt and underwear and kicking them to the side. His smile only widens when she pushes him back onto the bed, hovering above him, straddling his hips. And because she can’t help herself, her lips immediately capture his, melting into him with a slow, heated kiss. His breathy moan shoots straight down between her thighs, and she presses against him in an effort to relieve some of the pressure.

There’s a cheeky grin on his face when he pulls back as one of his hands wanders down to roughly knead her ass. “You gonna tell me what I said?”

With another quick kiss to his lips, she sits up. “Well, you were absolutely wasted.”

“Yeah…”

“And you were rambling on and on about how much you missed me, how much you loved me, how much you liked kissing me.” Despite her apparent confidence, her chest and cheeks are burning, her breath catching as she speaks.

“Checks out.” A lop-sided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“And how much you liked eating me out? Apparently?” She just barely makes that out, her heart hammering in her throat, the heat in her center becoming almost unbearable.

Peter closes his eyes, nodding solemnly. “Yes. Yup. I do.” He cracks another smile as he playfully squeezes her hips. “Flavortown is my favorite place.”

“No—” She gently slaps his bare chest, struggling to bite back her own grin. “Stop that.”

Her hand smooths over his pec, down to his abs, smirking in delight as his muscles twitch under her touch.

“Sorry.” He winks. “Continue.”

“Well—” Michelle speaks slowly, starting to move herself up on him. “—You said you wanted to try something. Related. To that.”

His eyebrows raise curiously, his forehead wrinkling. “Yeah?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah. Something about me sitting on your face?”

The way his eyes widen is something she can’t help but find adorable—so much so, she wishes she could take a picture of it. He breathes out a surprised—somewhat horny—laugh. He nods, giving a casual frown.

“So does that sound like something you’d say?” Michelle asks, her voice low. “Is that something you want?”

Peter’s hands wander from her hips, ghosting along her sides, his thumbs caressing the undersides of her breasts, and back down again, and when he looks up at her, there’s something in his eyes that causes her stomach to flip in the best way possible.

But then, of course, he’s Peter.

“MJ, you’ll be glad to know. Just for this moment—”

And he has to open his mouth.

“—I saved the best seat in the house for you.”

He emphasizes his point, patting his mouth with two fingers.

She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, her lips twisting as she glares at him. “Okay. No. I’m done. Bye,” she says, struggling not to laugh as she starts to climb off of him.

“Nooooooo—” Peter immediately keeps her in place, his hands on her hips. “—Please.”

“I’m so tired of you!” She laughs.

“Oh?” Peter tilts his head. “If you’re tired, why don’t you—” Another pat to his face. “—Take a seat?”

Only he can make her eyes roll in the back of her head in more than one way. “Shut up.”

There’s stupid, lopsided little grin on his face—full of too much mischief—as looks up at her, challenging. “Why don’t you make me?”

And she could swear that the wind’s been knocked out of her at that moment, the corner of her lips twitching upward into a surprised smile.

He scoots them back, close enough that she can hang on to the headboard—of which he tells her she’ll definitely need to do.

She almost smacks him again.

The air around her crackles with electricity as she slowly climbs up his chest, his hands on her thighs guiding her as she moves to straddle his face. Her own hands steady herself on the headboard, but she doesn’t look down until she’s in place, because, to be frank, it’s a lot to take in. Sure, she’s seen his face between her thighs plenty of times—it’s become one of her favorite sights in the world—but this, being above him, his mouth and nose covered by her as their eyes meet causes a heady rush to flare in her chest. There’s something about the way he grips her legs, his fingers digging into her thighs as he pulls her down.

It’s gentle at first, the deceptively chaste kisses he plants along her center, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathes her in. Already, he’s barely touched her and she feels seconds from falling apart, her face burning as his gaze flits up to meet hers. His lips ghost around her clit, never quite touching where she wants, and she can feel him smile against her as she unconsciously tries to grind herself onto him. He holds her still, looking up at her with a raised, amused brow, before licking a long stripe up her center.

The breathy moan he releases as he tastes her sends her head thrown back, and he smiles again as she sucks in a breath at the vibration, her grip on the headboard tightening. A shuddering sigh slips past her lips as his tongue swirls her arousal around, dipping down to the wetness at her entrance, his nose brushing against her clit.

It’s the whine that leaves her lips that has him desperately pulling her closer, pressing her to him with such need, such hunger, such insistence; as if she’s oxygen. He moans without abandon into her cunt, his hard sucking on her clit causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up her spine, her toes to curl into the sheets.

“Fuck, Peter—” She breathes, hanging her head as she struggles to hold herself upright on the headboard.

He only hums, clearly in enthusiastic agreement, holding her flush against him, mouth hot and wet as he laps fervently at her heat, his fingers massaging her thighs, drifting to her hips and squeezing, before finally coming to the curve of her ass.

She’s uncharacteristically shy at first, the tentative rocking of her hips coming in the heat of the moment. The muscles in her thighs twitch when he flattens his tongue and guides her, grinding her against him, his grip on her turning his knuckles white.

It’s always intoxicating, feeling him everywhere, his soft lips as they suck her clit, then his tongue as it spreads her arousal, as it starts fucking into her so well. A moan rips through her, her wet breath catching as he wraps a hand around to flick at her swollen clit. The warmth pooled in her lower stomach swells, melting, radiating through her legs to the tips of her toes, up to her chest.

One of her hands falls from the headboard, snapping to his head, fingers carding through his curls for purchase, her chest heaving as fucks her with his tongue. A throaty moans escapes him as she jerks him closer, rutting herself against his face as she arches her back.

She’s so close. Her thighs squeeze his head, the coil within her tightening and tightening, and—in an instant—there’s the invasive thought that he might not be able to breath. But when she tries to loosen up, when she starts to pull just an inch away, he reels her right back, more insistent, his hands on her hips, weighing her down.

“So fucking good, MJ,” he praises filthily into her cunt, emphasizing his point with a hard slap to her ass.

Her back straightens, rigid as she chokes on a gasp, the lewd sounds of his needy grunts, his sloppy kisses, her arousal—how wet she is on his lips and tongue—cause her body to burn, to set her skin alight, and she almost curses the both of them for not doing this sooner.

It’s addictive, dangerously so, as she crumples forward against the headboard, her fist still in tangled in his hair, her muscles tightening, burning. This time, she doesn’t stop herself as her thighs close around his head, squeezing with a force that only eggs him on, his mouth urgent as it works her over.

“That’s it, baby—” His voice is muffled in her heat, drowned by his ministrations.

She comes with a broken whine, panting with want as she feels herself spasming, a floaty, wavy smile pulling at her lips as Peter laps her through her orgasm.

But even as she comes down from her first high, Peter—never one for backing down—doesn’t seem ready to quit. When she pulls up again, he yanks her back, his gaze pleading as he looks up at her, silently begging her not to move. It’s so soon after, though, and his mouth still so hot on her sensitive clit sends a shock through her, her hips desperately rocking against his face—the feeling both too much and not enough.

Her second orgasm takes her by surprise, ripping through her as he sucks harshly on her clit. It’s an out-of-body experience—cliche as it sounds; she swears her vision goes out for more than a second, and she wonders if she’s somehow accidentally pulled a chunk of his hair out with how hard she was gripping. It takes more than a moment to come back to reality, her hips bucking as Peter still laps languidly at her cunt, flicking slowly at her clit, as if he still hasn’t had his fill. It’s almost as if he’s making a show of it, the moans coming from his lips, the vibrations of them against hers, somehow making her even wetter.

He pulls back slightly, and her mouth and throat goes dry seeing his nose, mouth, and chin slick and glistening with her. His lips puffy and pink, hair wild, looking completely fucked out. “You think you got a third?” He asks with a gentle pat to the curve of her hips.

And it’s his voice that makes her have to keep her eyes from rolling back; at least an octave lower, husky.

But it’s the adoration in his eyes that makes her heart swell.

Taking a shuddering breath, she nods. “Yeah,” she replies, biting her lip through a smile. “Please.”

He grins back up at her, scooting down on the bed a bit, pulling her with him. It gives her enough room to bend forward, now bracing herself on the mattress. His warm breath fans over her soaked cunt, and it takes everything in her not to squeeze her legs together again. His hands smooth over her skin, kneading the flesh of her ass as he pulls her down again. And he takes a moment to place another tender kiss on her sensitive clit—a gesture and touch that causes her hips to jolt—before taking hold of her and roughly pulling her down again.

This time, he’s quick to wrap his lips around her clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves, yet still savoring her. Her choked moan is cut off as one of his hands coils around behind her, swiping his fingers through her wetness, coating themselves in her arousal.

How Peter can get these sounds out of her, she thanks whatever higher power there is for that. The breathless whine the tumbles from her lips as her jaw goes slack, her body slumping further as he starts to pump two fingers into her, curling just so that she can’t help but chant his name like a prayer, over and over into the pillow.

It’s not long before she’s coming all over his fingers, his mouth, feeling herself fluttering around him as she desperately grinds down. For a moment, she almost forgets where she is, smiling and mumbling dreamily, not even sure what she’s saying as Peter moves out from under her. She feels his lips on her back as he kisses his way up her spine, his lips soft and gentle, full of love, on her skin.

When he reaches her face, his hand moves to cup her cheek as he lays beside her, his thumb smoothing over her skin.

She blearily looks at him, dazed, body still thrumming, buzzing from her third orgasm.

“Hey,” he says, his smile lop-sided, dopey; an expression so soft coming from someone doing such filthy things moments before.

Peter.

And MJ hums, closing her eyes again as he pulls her close, capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss. Another moan escapes her as she tastes herself on his mouth, her tongue slipping past his lips, drinking him in.

When he pulls back again, he can’t help but bite his lip. “How was that?” he asks, though from the smirk on his face, he seems to already know the answer.

Still breathless, MJ grins, shrugging as she starts to sit up. “It was alright.”

“Woooooow.” His jaw drops in mock-offense as he follows. “Three times was alright?”

“I think we’ll have to do it again,” she teases. “Just so I can really form an opinion. You know?”

“Oh, of course,” he murmurs, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes, his hands migrating to her hips, ready to pull her into his lap.

But she stops him, her eyes tinted with mischief as she glances between his face and the outline of his painfully hard cock straining against his boxer briefs.

“Is this seat taken?”

#spideychelle #thotumn 2020 #the return of flavortown #lmao #rated: e #petermj #the day 6 and 9 thing was not planned i swear dkfjslajfdak

57 notes · View notes

yuusa · 4 years

Text

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟑

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒𝟕𝟑𝟖

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟑

You slurped on the small carton of strawberry milk you had recently bought from the vending machine, your back was against the tree as you stared up at the sky. Some of the leaves were brushing against the wind and falling towards the grassy floor.

You knew that Tohru had invited you to sit with her during lunch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to forcefully put yourself into her life after one dinner meeting. The family was odd. They seemed dysfunctional yet connected in some way, you questioned the reasoning behind your thoughts. It didn’t seem like Tohru or Yuki lived with their parents, and you highly doubt Shigure is one either. You gnawed at the tip of the straw, Tohru looked like she was the only one keeping them together.

You were a bit envious. She seemed so happy and carefree, almost as if her problems were solved by simply being nice to others. You couldn’t understand her. Perhaps she didn’t want to bring up her own problems so she could stay happy. You tapped your pen against the paper as you heard the sound of your straw sucking up nothing but small droplets at the bottom of the carton.

“The eagle would think that if they tried their hardest to convince God, they could unite the other zodiacs,“ you bit your tongue at the memory. What a joke.

“Why are you looking at me with those eyes. . . You. . .” She gripped onto your hair tightly as she brought you up to her face, “Who the hell do you think you are? I hate the look in your eyes.”

“Bring my daughter back to me!” She screamed.

You wondered if it was possible to rid yourself of those memories. It seemed like so long ago that you left the household and chased after a part-time job. You were lucky to have attended the middle school of Kaibara in order to transfer into the high school section.

You dropped the carton onto your side and pushed your knees towards your chest. You wanted to know what your family is doing at this moment, would they still be mad at you? Was it worth finding them again? Did they want you now? You leaned your forehead against your knees, your face covered by your body as you clutched your hair, your sharp nails digging into your scalp.

“My poor wife, she’s been suffering every since that spirit came to the house after the death of our daughter.” He pulled at parts of his hair as he spoke with the businessman, “we had to lock up that room because it was haunted. My wife still opens it once in a while to pray though.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. . . Have you contacted a shaman to take care of the spirit?”

“Not yet, my wife is insisting that God can take care of the spirit. The first week she wouldn’t stop crying, I feel bad for her, I’ve been trying to comfort her every single night but she keeps wailing.”

You pressed your nails against the wooden door, your teeth gritting in annoyance and frustration. Your throat was coarse and you were in desperate need of water. You breathed heavily before sliding down the door and falling to the ground.

Why are you talking about me when I’m right here?

Why are you lying to him? Father?

You gasped as you snapped back into reality. You gripped your chest tightly as you tried to stabilize your breathing. Underneath your nails were smears of blood while you quickly packed your things. You lifted your hand to see the wretched color staining your hands. Your breathing becomes heavy again and your stomach clenches itself.

“Damn it!” You punched the tree roughly, the coarse bark ripping the outer layer of your skin. The pain sparked a sense of adrenaline, while the feeling of disgust was still coursing through your body. You huffed before quickly leaving to attend your next class.

“I hate their voices.” You mumbled, kicking a medium-sized rock towards the other side of the concrete as you stared at the ground. No matter where you go to hide, memories resurface like the sick feeling in your stomach.

“Is something wrong (L/n)-san?” You halted your steps and turned around, seeing the same grey-haired friend accompanying you by your side to class. From afar you spotted the micro-banged student glaring at you but you decided to ignore her.

“Not really.”

“You were glaring at the floor pretty intensely.” You flinched before pulling your eyes away from him to focus on somewhere else but him.

“Sorry then.” You scoffed, clearly displeased as your mood has been spoiled. The two of you silently tread through the school to your next class. What luck, you had the same schedule.

Yuki eyed you quietly before speaking up.“Would you like to exchange numbers?”

The air seems a bit tense and awkward, “what for?”

“We’re friends aren’t we?”

“W-Wha? O-Oh, mhm. . .” You fumbled around in your bag and took out your cell phone. A small charm was dangling off of the side, it was a small white rat keychain with a single sakura flower. When Yuki took out his phone he had the exact same keychain.

“What a coincidence,” he smiled “we have matching keychains.” Your cheeks felt hot as you quickly unlocked your phone, “they didn’t sell any bird ones. . .”

“Hm. . . I got mine from Honda-san, I’ll be sure to find you a bird one too then.”

“Y-You don’t have to! It’s really embarrassing.” You held out your phone screen which displayed your number, “hurry and put it in already.”

He raised an eyebrow at your statement to which you quickly pulled your phone back as your cheeks felt even hotter. “I-I-I didn’t m-mean it like that! Quickly! Put my number in your phone!”

“Yes yes. . .” He sent you a text to notify you. You opened up his contact and started to fill out his name, from above you, Yuki noticed that he was the only contact in your phone. He wondered why your phone seemed so blank despite you saying you had a job, did you simply answer any calls you were given or did you not use your phone?

“Do you not have anyone else on your phone?” He asked.

You clutched your phone to your chest as you flinched, “I-Is that bad?”

“No no no, I’ll just give you Honda-san’s number too so you can talk to us anytime.”

“I-Is that fine? She wouldn’t mind right?” He shook his head.

“I’m pretty sure Honda-san would be more than happy to talk to you more.”

You turned your eyes away from him in order to type in her number. “Why are you guys being so nice to me?”

“Hmm. . .” Yuki stared at the ceiling in thought.

After he had come home that night, Tohru asked him about whether or not you had a phone to talk to her with. She seemed really insistent on gaining your friendship after you had talked to her during the after school clean up session.

She mentioned how you would silently help her during class like picking up her fallen items, which Kyo only described as being generally nice, but Tohru seemed to have other thoughts. Yuki didn’t know whether or not Tohru saw something within you which sparked her interest in you, but part of the reason why he wanted your phone number was to talk to you outside of school without having Akito finding out about other people coming into the Sohma family’s home.

“She was happy to have another friend.” You parted your lips to say something only for them to close momentarily.

“I-I see. . . Thank you then.” You typed in her number and also changed her contact.

“Now you have two people in your contact.” He smiled. “Are you feeling better?”

You realized that the whole reason for him asking you about your phone was to distract you from your sour mood. He continued to smile at you, almost as if he was trying to communicate some sort of idea to you. He really was quite kind-hearted.

“Yes. . . You wanted my number to cheer me up didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” Yuki slid the door open to the classroom for you, “it seemed like you needed a distraction.”

“Oh, thank you Sohma-san.” You held your cell phone close to you before making your way to your desk.

“Ah! (Y/n)-kun!” Tohru waved at you from her desk as you hooked your bag onto the side. “How was your day?”

Perhaps there is something more underneath the surface, Yuki thought. He watched as you interacted with Tohru, slightly hesitant as you tried your best to keep the conversation going. With the way you talk to Tohru, it seemed like you were genuinely trying to make friends.

You threw your bag across the room and flopped onto your bed. You felt the poking sensation from one of the loose pens and you tossed it behind you. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you smothered your face against the soft, cool pillows. You flipped yourself over so that you laid on your back.

You felt so tired after school and your shift ended. Physical Education did a number on you when it came to running laps. After the experience you had during lunch, you needed to blow off some steam during PE. You found that it was a bad choice considering the fact you had to work at the cafe for the rest of the day. You were quite drowsy when it came to serving customers today. You made a mental note to write in your journal but for now, you will rest in bed until you regain your strength and energy.

The sound of a ding interrupted your moment of peace. You groggily picked up your phone and saw that you had two new texts from Tohru and Yuki. You swiped in order to view the full messages.

“(Y/n)-kun!! You should join us for dinner!” Tohru sent you a photo of the table full of food, you wondered how they obtained so many ingredients to cook so many dishes. Did they have a party?

“(L/n)-san, Honda-san is begging me to text you to join us for dinner, will you be coming? Our cousin came over.” You typed a response to Yuki first.

“Sorry, I’m just feeling exhausted tonight. Please Tell Tohru-kun I can try to come over the weekends.” He starts to type a response, the three dots appearing on your screen.

“That’s fine, are you doing okay after PE?” He types quite fast actually, it feels weird having someone to text with and you were glad knowing that Yuki has always tried to make some sort of conversation with you.

“Just a bit tired.”

“Just a bit? I heard you ran a bunch of laps and tripped halfway.” He sent a cute rat emoticon.

You fumbled around with your phone, “really? You remember that part? Whats with the emoticons?”

“It was funny. Honda-san uses a lot of emoticons, I thought it would be fun to try it out.

“Oh, I see. I thought you were going to eat dinner with everyone else?

“Our cousin accidentally broke the table and we’re waiting for Honda-san to come back for another dinner.” You stifled a chuckle. “We spent a lot of time cleaning up and she hasn’t come back yet. Kyo is thinking about getting take out.”

“Does Shigure-san know you’re texting someone?”

“Nope, I’m texting you behind a book.”

“You’re quite sneaky for someone who is suppose to be a good student.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Another rat emoticon. “For someone whose quite fast at running, you sure do trip a lot.”

“Shut up,” you sighed, “just a little clumsy.”

“Right,” he sent a rat emoticon with a question mark. “Are you feeling better though? You seemed down during lunch.”

“I’m fine.” You continued to tap against the screen, your eyes slowly drooping downwards in exhaustion, “you shouldn’t have to worry about me, we just met.”

“It feels as if you’re still bothered by something, but I won’t press on it too much. Since Honda-san isn’t back yet, what is your favorite animal?”

“. . . An eagle? I guess a white-tailed eagle is interesting.”

“I heard that the Crowned Eagle is strong. They’re also a bit clumsy when it comes to flying, reminds me of you.” You pressed your lips together.

“What is yours then?”

He sends another cute rat emoticon. “I think it would be a bit obvious.”

“Cute.” His texting paused for a moment after your text and you think Tohru-kun came back home. “Did Tohru-kun come home?”

“Oh, yes she just did. Our cousin is cooking again and she says it would be hamburger.”

“I see, that’s nice.” You sighed before sitting up from your bed.

“Have you eaten?”

“No, not yet.”

“I can bring you food in a bit if you would like, our cousin made extra.”

Your eyes widened before you furiously started typing, “You really don’t need to visit me you know.”

“It would be a good way to escape this chaotic family for a bit, it’s also nice to talk to you.”

“Then. . . If you don’t mind.”

From the Sohma household, Yuki smiled and hurriedly finished his meal. He was slightly pleased to know that he was able to come over to your house. Although you had recently met barely a day ago, he was curious about you. Tohru looked over at him and grinned.

“Are you going over to (Y/n)-kun’s house?”

“Yes I am, she says she didn’t have anything to eat but is tired, do you want me to give her something from you?” He responded.

She only waved her arms around to dismiss the idea, “no no, just tell her I said hi!”

“Then I will.” He packed up the food and waved the rest of the family a quick goodbye as he made his way to your apartment.

Kyo turned to the door in annoyance before scoffing, “don’t you think it’s weird he’s interacting with that other girl?”

“What do you mean Kyo-kun?” Tohru asked.

“Think about it, they just barely met and he’s coming to her house already? Sheesh.” He flipped himself onto the floor, “don’t you think it’s strange?”

Tohru stared at the closed door, her hand up to her lips as she thought about your interactions with Yuki.

She didn’t know much about you other than the fact you sat next to her in class, but there were moments when she could see the look in your eyes that she sees every day when Yuki is there with her.

Your eyes looked so sad.

When she sees you in class, you always fidget with your fingers underneath the desk, or how you would tap your pen against paper whenever you encountered a puzzling thought. When you talk to her, you sound like you’re forcing yourself to come up with a conversation. She couldn’t forget the look in your eyes when she saw you. You would tighten your fists like the way Yuki clutched his left arm, the two of you would divert your attention away and space out at times as well.

That day, when you both stayed after school, she felt something towards you. A desperate cry for some sort of love underneath the facade you held, yearning for something that was never there for you, reaching out for a distant dream in hopes of a cure.

Tohru gripped the edge of her shorts as she wonders if you had a similar past to Yuki. Your eyes looked as if you were constantly on watch and anxious, yet it held a hint of loneliness and sadness hidden behind your sharp irises.

Maybe the reason why you got along so well was because of something in the past.

“I know that, Kyo-kun.” She mumbled. “But she looks like she really wanted friends.”

“You came here quite fast.” You peered from behind the door, seeing Yuki hold up a bag of food.

“You should know that we’re both fast runners in the class.” You reached out to unlock the chain and opened the door.

“S-Sorry, my room is a bit messy right now, we can eat over here.”

He looked around the room, seeing a lack of photographs or any sort of decorations hanging on the wall. When you opened the door to the rest of your apartment, he was greeted with the scent of lavender and camellias. Interesting choice of flowers. Your bed was still quite messy despite your efforts to bring yourself to clean up, there were some books spread across the ground and he noticed the piling laundry basket in the corner of the room. You were wearing a simple white button-up and one of your favorite pants.

“My room is gross, sorry.” You apologized again, trying to stack the books onto your shelf as he sat down on the wooden floor.

“No no, my room is like this too.” He continued to admire the interior of the room, despite it being a small apartment it seemed very cozy. “Does it always smell like lavender in here?” He commented.

“O-Oh, yes. My coworker said it’s supposed to help with sleep and relaxation.” Once the books were neatly stacked you walked over to the miniature kitchen. “I only have green tea with me, will you be okay with that?”

“That would be fine, thank you for having me over.” He smiled while you turned away from him, your cheeks becoming warm as you turned on the stove with a filled kettle. You struggled with tying the back of your apron, your arms extremely sore from overworking yourself earlier. You groaned in frustration as you continued to try to tie a knot behind you while exerting yourself.

“I can get that for you.” You flinched as you felt his hands tightening the strings and pulling them together, looping them into a bow before stepping back. “Are you normally this tired after work?”

“Customers can be hard.” You huffed, pulling out a separate bowl and your wooden whisk. “They ask for a lot from us and it’s difficult when you’re just a student.” When the kettle was getting to the boiling point, you poured the water into the bowl and set your whisk inside. “It’s the only job I currently have which pays enough for rent.”

You pulled out a packet of ground matcha and sifted it into the bowl. Your fingers were delicately working at the tea while Yuki admired you from the side. As you vigorously stirred the mixture in a zig-zag motion, you looked over your shoulder to see him still smiling at you.

“W-Why are you smiling?” You poured the matcha tea into two cups and set them down onto your wooden tray.

“No, I was just impressed by your skills. Did you learn that at your workplace?”

“O-Oh, I did. I learned quite a bit from working there.” You carried the tray towards the table and set them down while Yuki sat across from you. “Is your family going to be okay with you being here?”

He shook his head, “I’m pretty sure our cat is happy knowing I’m out of the house for a while.” By cat, you assumed he meant Kyo.

“I see, do you dislike him?” You awkwardly avoided using his last name considering the fact that he and Kyo came from the same family, and you weren’t quite ready to even say his first name.

“Dislike is far, it’s more like I hate him.” He brought up the cup to his lips and took a small sip, “everything he does makes me angry.”

You unwrapped the food and admired the careful packeting of it before digging in with your chopsticks, “is there a reason why you hate him?”

He set the cup down, “hmm. . . It runs quite deep.” He peered down at the small air bubbles which sat at the top of the tea. “You could say that I’m a bit envious of him.”

“It must be hard constantly comparing yourself with him then.” You bluntly said, cutting a piece of the hamburger and chewing on it, “but, don’t you have good qualities as well?”

“Well, it’s hard to say.”

You hummed. “You’re kind and mature Sohma-san,” you picked up your own cup and brought it to your lips to drink, “I don’t think anyone would simply come over to your house and give you food.”

“Other than Honda-san of course.” You giggled slightly but coughed to drive his attention away from the sound. He continued to drink his tea while you ate.

You silently eyed him, realizing now that he had long eyelashes. You could see how some could mistake him for the wrong gender, but you wondered how a boy such as him is blessed with so many great qualities. You stopped chewing, instead, biting on your inner cheek when you realized how attractive he was. Even his eyes were much prettier than yours. They were the right shade of grey and they held kindness and innocence within them.

You frowned as you thought about your own reflection. Your heart sinks to the ground as you felt yourself wanting to leave this place. The cold air of your room sunk into your bones as the chills ran down your spine.

“I hate the look in your eyes.” She sneered.

Yuki quickly set his cup down and reached over to you, “are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

You instinctively retreated back slightly, your eyes widening as you stared at him. His hand twitched before he pulled himself back. His eyes reflected your own while you cowered in fear. You could feel the beads of sweat beginning to form on your neck as you adjusted yourself.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You peered up at the clock on the wall, “it’s getting late. You should start going home.”

There was an awkward pause of silence growing between the two of you.

“Sorry, if I offended you.” Yuki pulled himself off of the floor. You bit your lip as you watched him pack his own things to leave, feeling guilty for your own actions. As he was beginning to turn towards the door, you quickly stood up and grabbed onto his wrist.

“A-Ah, umm. . .” He stared at you while you struggled to form coherent words, “I-It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to drive you away, I-It’s fine if you want to stay a little longer if you want to though.” You mumbled.

You looked up at him with your (e/c) eyes, “I’m sorry.”

He reached out to pat the top of your head, “then, I’ll stay for a bit longer. Let me call Shigure-san about this.” He excused himself from the room and went out to the hall to phone Shigure.

You breathed out a sigh of relief before cleaning up the table and going to wash the empty cups. As you scrubbed the surface with soap and water, you wondered if you had driven him away from you. Your heart felt heavy seeing his hurt expression pull away from you.

You knew all along that you weren’t the best at making friends.

This encounter was starting to make you feel paranoid, your hands starting to freeze up while the burning sensation of the water unfazed you. You were starting to worry that Yuki might not want to be your friend anymore after this. The way he stared back at you with those hurt eyes made you want to crawl into your nest and bury yourself into it. You blinked away the small formations of tears at the corner of your eyes.

You winced when you realized you have been running your hand under boiling hot water for too long, the skin turning a bright red color. You gasped when you stared down at your hands, your stomach feeling sick as your body began to tremble, your eyes focusing on the darkening color.

Her nails dug into the surface of your hand as you began to feel your skin split, the crimson liquid oozing from your skin. You tried to grab onto her hand to pull her away with the little strength you had. You could feel yourself being roughly thrown back into the room, the thick fluid smearing onto the cold floor as the door slammed shut.

You tightly shut your eyes as you blindly ran past Yuki towards the bathroom. His worried glances followed your figure as you made your escape.

“(L/n)-san, are you okay?” You fumbled with the cabinet trying to unlock it but to no prevail, your breathing became heavy as your body almost collapsed onto the ground. Your hand couldn’t find the lock at all and you were starting to feel woozy.

You felt the feeling of his hand grasping onto your shoulder gently, “(L/n)-san, you burned your hand, is your medical kit in here?” He gently knocked on the material and you nodded in response, your eyes still closed as you tried to calm your breathing.

You should hear him unlock the cabinet, his hand reaching out to pull on the medical tape and wrap the material around your fingers as you breathed a sigh of relief. Although it was dark, you felt comfortable at the moment. Your fingers twitched as he carefully wrapped it around your hand.

“Did you burn yourself while I was gone?” You frowned as you nodded again. You felt him rip the end of the tape with his nails before tapping on the back of your hand.

“You can open your eyes now (L/n)-san.” You cracked open one of your eyes and saw the slightly clumsy wrapping made by Yuki. Slowly, you brought your hands to your chest, feeling your heartbeat beginning to calm down.

“I’m sorry for troubling you tonight Sohma-san.” You said.

He only responded with his gentler voices, “you don’t need to apologize. Are you scared of something?” He asked.

“The color. . . Red.” You whispered, almost inaudible as Yuki had to take time to process your response.

“Does closing your eyes help you?” You mumbled a short yes.

You thought he would judge you based on this childish fear, but he seemed to stare at you with those kind grey eyes of his. It seemed unrealistic to have someone as caring as he was. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were simply dreaming.

“Would you like to go back to your room? I can stay for a bit longer here.” You gave him a short nod and he held onto your hands, careful not to apply pressure onto the surface as he guided you back into your room.

“Do you need help with that?” He pointed at your still tied apron.

“No, I’ll try to do it myself, I’ve troubled you enough.” You tried to reach the knot but with every single movement from your joints sparked a burning sensation. You hissed at it but Yuki grabbed onto your hand and pulled it away.

“It’s okay to ask for help (L/n)-san.” He tugged onto the end of the knot and slowly pulled off your apron before you could even protest.

“Don’t you feel bothered?” You mumbled. “I’m causing you so much trouble and it's a hassle to do these things don’t you think? We barely know each other and here you are at my house.”

“Not really.” He started to fold the material, “it’s not really a problem at all.”

“You don’t seem to want to ask for help either, Sohma-san.” He grew silent before he guided you towards your bed, forcing you to sit down on the sheets as he stood over you.

He brushed the side of his hair back, his eyes avoiding yours. “Did you know all this time?”

You reached out to his hands with your bandaged ones, pulling on them as you leaned forward, feeling the cold sensation on top of your forehead as you closed your eyes. Yuki could feel the heat trailing to his cheeks as he felt you brush yourself against his hand.

“We’re similar, Sohma-san.” You could only hear the small audible hum coming from above.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #x reader #yuki sohma #yuki sohma x reader #yuki soma #yuki soma x reader

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lailannajacobs · 4 years

Text

Heart to a Gunfight - Chapter 11

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did.

Warnings: Lots of fluff!!

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Hi all! I know it’s been a bit for this series but I finally got some inspiration again for it, so I hope you enjoy! Would love to know what you think!

Tuesday Night

You knocked back another shot, “Remind me again why the hell I agreed to this?”

“Because you’re too competitive for your own good and it takes nothing to goad you into something.”

Bucky paused, stared at the dart board and let another one fly. You cursed when it hit the double-twenty, your hand already moving toward your fifth shot of the night. Any hit worth over forty points meant the other person had to drink, and Bucky was deceptively good at darts.

The whiskey no longer burned on the way down and you slammed the shot glass back onto the table. It was a good thing that was his last throw.

“I’m pretty sure I only asked if you wanted to play darts. You wanted to turn it into a drinking game,” You pointed out, leaning back onto your elbows.

He flashed you a wicked grin, “And where would be the fun in that?”

“Well, I’m just glad we’re not playing strip darts,” You muttered, “Or else I’d have been completely naked two shots ago.”

His eyes darkened, raking over your body slowly as if he was trying to count the articles of clothes you’d have taken off. You shivered at the look, extending your hand so he’d give you the darts.

He placed them in your hand but held on for a second, pulling you in a little closer and whispered, “Unfortunately I don’t have a dart board in my apartment.”

You snatched them from his hand and narrowed your eyes at him, “Stop trying to get in my head, Solider. I’m going to make you drink your words.”

His lips only spread further.

Pushing past him, you focused on the board, hoping to match your words with your actions. The odds weren’t in your favour. He’d only taken two shots tonight and both of those times you’d been aiming elsewhere, luck being the only reason you’d hit anything good. There was no way you’d get three perfect shots to tie the game, but you were still hoping to get him to drink at least one. Squinting, you tried to get the board to come into focus. From this point forward, you were only drinking water.

You concentrated with everything you had, seeing nothing but the red dot in the centre of the colourful board. Drawing in a long breath, you paused at the top, about to let it go with your exhale when Bucky’s hand wrapped around your wrist, startling you so much you dropped the dart to the ground.

“Hey!” You turned to face him, but he didn’t let go, your hand held up between your two bodies, “What’s with the cheating?”

He tilted his head, motioning toward the board. An old man walked between you and the target, his head exactly where your shot would have been.

“So, I may have been a little too focused,” You amended.

He raised a brow.

“Okay, so a lot too focused.”

He picked up the dart and handed it over, silently challenging you to do your best.

“Here we go,” You rolled your shoulders, “I got this.”

“You almost killed an old man,” Bucky piped up from behind you.

“Shut up, Barnes.”

He laughed, the sound putting a smile on your face, “You know, I thought maybe your aim would’ve improved with the booze, but apparently not.”

“Your words of encouragement are so heartwarming,” You said, turning to face him with your hands on your hips.

“Just throw already.”

“Fine.”

You smiled when your first shot hit the board. It wasn’t worth more than five points but at least you had hit something.

“New deal, Speedy,” Bucky took a sip of his beer, “If the total of your three shots is over forty points then I’ll take a shot.”

You shook your head and sighed, “The fact that you’re drinking right now for the hell of it kinda takes the fun out of it. It’s just not the same.”

“Good point,” He chuckled, “How about this? If it’s over forty, I’ll take a ride with you in your car and I won’t say a damn thing about it.”

You grinned, “Now you’re making things interesting, Soldier.”

Your second shot was just as pathetic as the first one, giving you a total of ten points. Another thirty seemed near impossible, but you weren’t about to lose hope. Not when your car was on the line.

“Just so you know, I have your next shot right here,” Bucky taunted, waving the shot glass in the air.

You smiled sweetly, trying to ignore the shit-eating grin on his own face, “It’s all yours.”

Changing tactics, you decided to throw it without a care in the world. It wasn’t like you were hitting anything when you tried, so maybe doing the exact would pay off. You double checked to make sure there weren’t any old men with the bright idea of crossing the dart board, and when the coast was clear, you whipped it at the board.

The centre lit up red and you blinked in shock.

“That’s fifty points,” You murmured, not quite believing what had just happened. Then it sunk in and you whirled to find Bucky, “That’s fifty points!”

You jumped into his arms, slinging your own around his neck. His grip tightened around your waist, and he pulled you in close. All you could hear was the sound of his laughter in your ear, his breath tickling your shoulder as he tucked his head in to fit beside yours.

“I don’t care that I’ve lost so often I’m a little bit tipsy,” You giggled into his ear, “That’s fifty points and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He pulled back without pulling away, his arms still strong around you.

“That shot was all you,” The corner of his mouth was quirked up slightly, those blue eyes bright, “And that shot is all mine.”

“Told you I’d do it.”

“I never doubted you for a second.”

You looked to the ground and forced yourself to take a step back, “Your turn to get tipsy.”

“Another round, Speedy?”

You scoffed, “Absolutely not. But there is a pool table over there”

Two Weeks Later

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you tried not to smile, knowing you couldn’t start smiling like an idiot while you were finishing the payment for the customer in front of you. The process seemed to take forever to go through, your phone burning a hole in your pocket.

Only when the customer was out of the shop did you pull it out, knowing exactly whose name you’d find there.

I don’t think you should let me choose movie night anymore. That’s two terrible ones in a row.

You smirked, pulling out your lunch, glad you were now on break.

Good to know you’ve finally seen the light.

Typing bubbles appeared instantly and you waited, a stupid little smile on your lips.

What should I be in charge of now? Bucky asked.

Pizza. You immediately replied. But make sure it’s from Anthony’s.

Because I want soggy pizza? I’m getting Louie’s.

You shook your head, even if he couldn’t see it. Fine but your taste in pizza better be better than your taste in movies.

As long as it’s better than your taste in cars ;)

Idiot, you thought, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

One Week Later

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

“Says the owner of the crappy car.”

You pulled into the parking lot in front of Bucky’s apartment and turned off the engine, “You’re just being fussy, that’s all.”

“Fine,” He laughed, “I’ll admit it. The drive really wasn’t that bad.”

“And?” You asked, shooting him a pointed look as you waited for him to fulfill the rest of your deal.

“And you’re not a crazy lunatic driver.”

You smacked him on the arm, “That looked like it physically pained you to say.”

“It did,” He said, eyes wide, trying to play the pity card.

You weren’t having any of it, “That’s what you get when you lose a bet, Soldier.”

He turned in his seat to face you, “How was I supposed to know you were going to hustle me?”

“I didn’t hustle you!” He shot you a look of disbelief, “You just assumed I’d be terrible at it. I never corrected you.”

“But you,” He ran a hand through his hair, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You asked me how to tie your vest and how the gun worked.”

You grinned.

He let his head flop back onto the head rest, chuckling, “All so I’d underestimate you.”

It seemed like every time the two of you went out, it always ended in a competition, and tonight hadn’t been an exception. Only you had begun to realize how to win the last time the two of you had gone out. Tonight, you had managed to pull ahead by one.

“Turns out my terrible aim does not extend to laser tag,” You bit your lip, failing miserably at wiping the smug look from your face, “I just happened to forget to mention that.”

“I should have known when you put your driving skills and car on the line,” He chided himself, shaking his head.

“You really should have,” You hummed.

“I know. I know you better than that.”

You looked out the windshield, away from the intense look in his eyes, apparent even in the dark, “Well…Goodnight, Soldier.”

He leaned in, giving you a side hug from his side of the car, “See you next week. Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” You shrugged, suddenly feeling cool from the lack of his warmth, “Now get out of my car before you do something stupid like insult it.”

He laughed, stepping out. Pausing with his elbows on the edge of the rolled down window, he said, “Night, Speedy. Text me when you get home safe.”

One Week Before the Wedding

“We’ll be right out,” Peggy smiled at Steve and Bucky, motioning for them to wait outside the bar, “We’re just going to go to the bathroom first.”

They shrugged and walked toward the exit as if nothing was amiss, but you knew better. There was nothing casual about the way she grabbed your arm and steered you to the bathroom. What for though, you had no clue.

It had been the first time all four of you had hung out together since the engagement party and now, the wedding was a week away. Sure, you had seen Peggy and Steve on multiple occasions, but your four schedules had never seemed to line up properly until tonight. It was funny that you had thought the reason you’d spend so much time with Bucky would be because of Peggy and Steve, when really you had seen more of him this summer than anyone else.

“What’s up, Peg?” You asked when the two of you marched into the bathroom.

She crossed her arms, “You want to tell to tell me how long this little thing has been going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Bucky,” She shot you a pointed look through the mirror.

You touched up your lipstick, half listening to what she was saying, “What about me and Bucky?”

“How long have you been seeing each other?” She let out an exasperated sigh as if she couldn’t believe how dense you were being.

It took a second for her words to sink in, and you turned shocked, “We’re not seeing each other!”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious!” You protested.

“I saw the two of you tonight, and I’m not blind,” She fixed her hair quickly in the mirror and when she noticed your look of disbelief, she turned her full attention on you, “Oh, come on, YN. No one who’s just friends acts the way you two do.”

It was your turn to cross your arms, not having any of her accusations, “And how is it that we act, Peg?”

“Like the two of you use every excuse just to touch each other. Like the way Bucky’s face lights up when you walk into the room, or the way you look around for him, just to make sure he’s nearby,” She shook her head, probably disappointed that you’d kept something like this from her, “I’m not an idiot. I have eyes.”

Whatever you were going to say next died on your lips. The two of you were just friends, right? So what that you’d gotten close these past months? So what that you texted each other practically every day. So what that you’d caught yourself thinking of him whenever - holy shit.

Peggy must have seen something in your eyes because her expression softened, “So you guys aren’t dating, huh?”

You shook your head, not sure what to do with this newfound revelation. How could you still be friends with Bucky when you obviously had feelings for him? But he clearly didn’t feel the same way. Now that you really thought about, he often commented on your friendship as if…Oh god. Were you so blind that he thought he needed to keep subtly reminding you that any relationship the two of you had was fake? You rubbed your hands over your face and groaned.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Peggy began with a small smile, “I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.”

“Yeah, right,” You scoffed, “I’ve spent enough time with him to know that he doesn’t.”

Peggy was about to say something else, but you shook your head, cutting her off.

“Can we just go?”

She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close, “You good?”

“Yeah, of course,” You forced a laugh for good measure even though you knew Peggy could always see through your lies, “We’re just friends. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Of course you are. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You shot her an appreciative smile and walked out of the bathroom, head held high.

#bucky fanfic #bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfiction #mcu fluff #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic

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assembledherethevolunteers · 4 years

Text

Hotel Key

A/N: Hello again! This is the last songfic (for now). This time it’s ‘Hotel Key’ by Old Dominion (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZIx9CRRSq8) with Ben! I went back and forth on a couple different songs for Ben, but this one I liked the best.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x fem!Reader

Summary: A Hawaiian vacation your senior spring break was supposed to be a way to relax before going into your last couple months of college. Ben Hardy is dragged on a Hawaiian holiday with his roommate.

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Fluff, Implied smut (I decided not to actually write it because there isn’t in the other three -Tequila pt 2 excluded-)

Taglist: @queenlover05 @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye

“Come on!” Your best friend, NIkki, pulled on your hand. “It’s spring break of our SENIOR YEAR! One last bit of fun before we have to be full on adults.

You snorted at her. “Not all of us have mommy and daddy to pay for a week at an exclusive resort,” you replied, looking back to your psychology text book.

Nikki pouted. “What if we go to a place we can both afford on our own?”

You looked up and cocked an eyebrow at her. “I could deal with that. We’ve got some time to save up. Maybe I can work a little extra at the bar,” you thought aloud.

“Yes!” Nikki gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Hawaii here we come!”

“You need a break, mate.”

Ben picked his head off the table and looked towards the voice. His flatmate, Cameron, was standing over him.

“Can’t afford one, can we? I’ve got rehearsal and then work,” Ben sighed and stood up. Ben was an actor just getting started on stage work. He loved it, but it wasn’t the most lucrative of occupations at the moment.

“I think we can. I’ve been looking over the budget and our schedules. In March, when the show closes, we’ll both be able to take a holiday.”

“Where?”

“I was thinking somewhere warm and foreign. Maybe Hawaii,” Cameron replied nonchalantly.

After a few more questions from Ben (and surprisingly well thought-out responses from Cameron), he finally agreed to the vacation.

“Great! Let’s get packing!”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Cam, it’s December.”

You and Nikki stepped off the plane, her feeling refreshed from her sleeping almost the whole trip. You, exhausted from not being able to sleep on planes.

“What first?”

“We need to check into our hotel,” you replied matter-of-factly.

“True. And then dinner?”

“Then dinner,” you agreed.

The two of you got in a taxi that drove you to the hotel you’d be staying at. You pulled up and the driver helped you with your baggage.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him. He just nodded and got back in his car. You and Nikki walked in and stood in line to be checked in.

Cameron and Ben got out of their car. Ben looked at the hotel and frowned.

“This looks expensive.”

Cameron clapped him on the back.

“Maybe a bit over budget, but not enough for us to be worried! Relax! We’re on holiday!”

Ben rolled his eyes but followed Cameron into the hotel.

“We need some dinner after we check in.”

“Why can’t we just order room service?” You whined on the way up to your room.

“Becaaause we need to go out and get some authentic Hawaiian food.” Nikki responded before she slid the key in and opened the door. Instead of a simple room with two beds, which is why you thought had been booked, you stood in a suite. Completed with a living room and two separate bedrooms.

“Nikki,” you gasped.

She squealed and hugged you tight. “I know. I know I said something we could afford ourselves, but my parents wanted us to have a great time and not worry about paying for the room.”

You were stunned. You had told Nikki you would pay your half of the room after the trip (in case there were an extra expenses), but apparently you wouldn’t have to.

“Are you mad?” Nikki asked sheepishly.

“How could I be mad?” You dropped your bags and gave her a tight hug. She hugged you back and giggled.

“Now! There’s a restaurant across the street so we can go somewhere close. But we need to look cute! Never know if we’ll meet any cute Hawaiian guys!”

You laughed and then pushed her away.

“Fine! But I need a shower.”

“You go take one in yours and I’ll take one in mine and we’ll meet back here,” Nikki grabbed her bags and ran into a room before you could respond.

You took your own luggage into the other room. It was huge! You flopped onto the bed and sunk into the comforter before sighing happily. Okay, maybe you needed more of a break than you thought. You considered drifting off to sleep, but then your stomach gave a rumble that you couldn’t ignore anymore. You sighed again, got up, and quickly took a shower. You knew Nikki was kidding about finding cute Hawaiian guys, but…wearing some makeup and a cute sundress wouldn’t kill you.

“Cameron, I’m starving. Are you ready to go yet?” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Just because you’re okay with looking like we just got out off a plane, doesn’t mean we all are.”

“We did just get off a plane,” Ben looked down at himself and thought he’d cleaned up alright. He was in khaki shorts and a blue button up shirt. Similar to what Cameron was wearing. Ben, who knew better than to argue with Cameron, started to leave the room.

“Hey wait!” Cameron called after him.

You and Nikki walked over to the restaurant and waited as the host took two people in front of you to the table.

“This place is packed,” you muttered to Nikki.

“I know but hopefully they have a space.”

“Aloha, ladies,” the host came back.

“Hi, table for two, please?” You asked.

The host frowned. “All our tables are full at the moment.”

Nikki’s face fell. “Oh, okay. Well,” Nikkis turned to look at you.

“Hold on, ladies,” The host peeked over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll take a pint of your golden ale, please?” Ben told the waitress.

She nodded and walked away, only to be replaced by the host.

“I’m so sorry,” he started. “But do you think we could sit another party of two here?” He nodded to the two open seats at Ben and Cameron’s table.

The two men shared a look and Ben shrugged.

“I’m okay with it.”

“There’s another place just down the road we could walk to,” you suggested to Nikki.

Nikki sighed. “But you’re tired, and so am I. Maybe we could just go back and order room service like you…”

“Excuse me.” Neither of you had noticed the host came back. “We do have a table with two gentlemen that don’t mind sharing a table if you would also agree to it.”

You looked at Nikki who looked excited.

“Yes! Please show us to the table.”

The host smiled and led you toward the table.

“Nikki, what if they’re two crazy guys!”

“You worry too much,” Nikki hissed back at you.

“You don’t worry enough!” You responded just before the host set your menus down.

You both sat down before looking over at the men you were sharing a table with. You were met with a pair of sage green eyes that nearly made you gasp.

“H…hi,” you stuttered out. “I’m Y/N. This is my friend, Nikki,” you gestured to her, but she didn’t seem to be paying attention to you.

Ben cleared his throat. He hadn’t thought that the people that they would sit at their table would be two beautiful women.

“I’m Ben. This is Cameron,” Ben nodded his head across the table.

Cameron gave you a polite smile before he turned back towards Nikki. The two of them already seemed enamored with each other.

“So, where are you from?” Ben asked you after the waitress took your orders.

Hours later, all of you were feeling great. Full of delicious food and alcohol.

“...and this guy,” Cameron pointed to Ben. “Nearly breaks the poor bastard’s nose!”

The table laughed.

“Wow,” you looked over at Ben, who looked embarrassed. “Rugby sounds dangerous.” You tried to take a sip of your cocktail, only to find it empty. You pouted at your empty glass.

“Oh, it is,” Ben looked at you and noticed the pout on your lips (which he tried not to think about kissing). “Need another, love?”

When had he put his arm around the back of your chair. When had the name ‘love’ made your heart pound like that?

“Um…just one more I think.”

“One more round for the table?” The waitress appeared out of nowhere.

“Yes, please, another round,” Cameron smiled tipsily at Nikki, not even looking at the waitress.

Nikki started giggling. You noticed then that she was pressed right into Cameron’s side. His arm was wrapped around Nikki’s shoulders.

Ben watched you. The sun was starting to set and the golden light was hitting you to make you seem like you were glowing.

You looked over at Ben and smiled. He smiled back, perhaps a bit drunk. He was originally against the vacation. Now he was thinking he should thank Cameron.

“Nik, we should probably head up after this one,” you said halfway through your next drink.

“Come on, Y/N,” Nikki tried to plead with you. “One more drink?”

You shook your head. If you stayed for another drink, a certain pair of green eyes would be taking you back to his room.

“Not for me,” you sighed.

“Well, I can keep an eye on Nikki for you if you’d like,” Cameron said, but he wasn’t looking at you.

“Maybe not tonight.”

Cameron seemed like a nice guy, but there was no way you were letting Nikki out of your sight right now. Not the first night and not when you were all drunk.

“Where are you staying?” Ben asked you, letting Cameron and Nikki go back to only paying attention to themselves.

“Across the street,” you answered.

“Us too!” Cameron exclaimed happily. Apparently they were paying attention to you and Ben.

“Great! Why don’t we all meet for breakfast tomorrow morning?” Ben offered. He thought it was a good compromise. You could go upstairs and get your rest, but there was still a promise to see you tomorrow.

“I think we could do that,” you smiled.

“Deal?” Ben offered his hand to you. You took and shook it.

You felt an almost electric shock go through your body. Ben felt it too. With great reluctance, you both let go of the other’s hand.

The waitress came by and you all got your checks. Tabs paid, your quartet made its way towards the hotel.

You shivered, your sundress not prepared for the coolness of the night.

Ben noticed and went to put his arm around you, but hesitated. He’d gotten away with it at the restaurant, but he hadn’t actually been touching you. It was mostly on the chair. Ben didn’t put his arm around you, but he got closer so that your arms would brush occasionally.

“What floor are you staying on?” You asked, bringing Ben out of his thoughts.

“Oh, the um…fifth. You?”

“We’re on the eighth,” you responded, leaning in just a bit closer to Ben. His cologne was intoxicating. Okay, maybe that had been the vodka in your drink. Or maybe it was both.

“So, we can all take the lift up?” Cameron asked. His arm was lazily thrown around Nikki’s shoulders. They hadn’t stopped touching since the restaurant.

“The lift?” Nikki giggled. “You mean the elevator?”

Cameron giggled back at her. “Nooo, I mean the lift.”

“You’re cute when you speak British.”

You and Ben met eyes and you mimed gagging. Ben chuckled under his breath.

The four of you went into the elevator, Nikki and Cameron still leaning on each other.

You arrived on the fifth floor and Ben almost dragged Cameron out.

“Until breakfast,” Cameron kissed Nikki’s hand.

“Bye, Cameron,” Nikki’s voice was sickly sweet as she batted her eyelashes.

“Bye, Y/N,” Ben shook his head at you, trying to apologize for Cameron’s behavior.

“Good night, Ben,” you waved your fingers before the elevator doors closed.

Nikki sighed and looked at you. “I’m in love.”

“No, you’re drunk and horny.”

“Same difference.”

You rolled your eyes at her, but let it go for the rest of the ride in the elevator.

“Ben’s not bad looking either,” Nikki looked at you before opening the door to the room.

“Not at all,” you agreed, kicking off your wedges as you followed Nikki inside.

“Sooo…we should take them to the beach after breakfast tomorrow. Then we can grab some lunch, maybe dinner, some dancing…”

“Nik, we’ve been here less than ten hours and you already want to spend the whole trip with these guys?”

“Not the whole trip.”

You laughed and then sighed, feeling how tired you were finally washing over you. “Let’s go to bed. Apparently, we’ve got breakfast dates tomorrow.”

Nikki squealed and gave you a squeeze. “This vacation is going to be great!”

You hated how much you agreed with her. You went to sleep dreaming of green eyes.

“But whhhhy can’t I call her?” Cameron asked, reaching for his phone, which Ben was holding away so Cameron couldn’t reach it.

“Because! You’re both drunk. Go to bed and we’ll see them in the morning.”

Cameron whined but finally fell on his bed. “Fiiiiine!”

“Good man,” Ben plugged Cameron’s phone in next to Cameron’s bed before he laid down on his own.

“Do you think Y/N is pretty?” Cameron asked, not looking at Ben.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck and sort of chuckled under his breath. “I mean, yeah. Of course she’s pretty.”

Cameron sat up and looked at Ben, his eyes wide and grinning like a crazy person.

“You like her!”

“Well I spend the whole night talking to her.”

“Noooo, you REALLY like her.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ben tried to deflect. “Go to sleep and don’t get mad at me when you’re hungover tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, mate,” Cameron chortled to himself. “Whatever you say.”

Ben flicked the light off so that hopefully Cameron would just go to sleep. Yeah, maybe he did like you. Maybe he was a little more excited about this vacation than he originally planned. Maybe…just maybe.

“Nikki! Come on! We’re going to be late!” You pounded on her bedroom door. You knew she was awake because you’d heard her shower running. The two fo you were going to meet Ben and Cameron at the same restaurant as last night.

“I’m finishing my makeup!”

You leaned against the door, annoyed. “I’m sure you look gorgeous and I’m starving! Let’s go!”

Even though you didn’t have much room to talk. You’d taken your time getting ready this morning too.

Nikki finally opened the door and you fell into her room. You looked at her after you straightened up. She was wearing her bikini coverup as a dress and you could see the ties of her bikini poking out of the top. You were wearing something similar since you wanted to get to the beach as soon as possible.

“How do I look?” She spun around.

“Great! Can we go get breakfast now?”

“Fine. Come on,” Nikki closed her bedroom door after grabbing her beach bag. “They’ve already got a table anyway.”

“How do you know that?” You squinted at her suspiciously, even though you already knew.

“Cameron texted me,” Nikki tried to say nonchalantly but you could see the smile on her face.

“They want to go to the beach after. Sounds good, yeah?” Cameron asked Ben as they left their room.

“Well that’s the whole point we’re here, right? The beach?”

“Right. And going with two gorgeous women doesn’t sound bad either.”

Ben shoved Cameron’s shoulder, but he agreed.

“Oh, there they are,” Cameron waved to you and Nikki when he saw you walk into the restaurant.

Ben quickly ran a hand through his hair as the two of you approached the table.

“Good morning,” Cameron took and kissed Nikki’s hand. Nikki giggled and bit her bottom lip.

“Morning, Y/N,” Ben smiled at you as you sat down, pulling your attention away from your best friend.

“Good morning, how’d you sleep?”

“Fine, once I could get that one,” Ben nodded to Cameron, “to go to sleep. He gets talkative when he’s drunk.”

“Oh, tell me about it. She’s the same way,” you nodded to Nikki.

You and Ben shared a chuckle when you both realized that Cameron and Nikki weren’t paying attention to you.

“Aloha,” the same waitress from last night came over and smiled at the four of you. “What can we start off with?”

“Can we get a pitcher of mimosas?” Nikki asked, not even looking to the table for confirmation.

“Of course! With our fresh squeezed Hawaiian orange juice. I’ll be right back with that,” she grinned and then walked away.

“So, we’re going to the beach after this?” Cameron winked at Nikki.

“You bet. We’re going to have a day at the beach. And then maybe we can go to dancing later.”

“Cameron, you don’t dance,” Ben said flatly.

“I do, too. You’re the one that doesn’t dance, mate.”

“When in the hell was the last time you went dancing?”

If looks could kill, Ben would be dead from the glare that Cameron shot at him. Ben looked over at you and gave you a cheeky smile, his tongue poking out just between his teeth. You covered your hand to try and hide the laugh that came to your lips.

“It’s okay,” Nikki pulled Cameron’s attention back to her. “I can teach you.”

The waitress came back with your pitcher and four glasses. You all ordered, and she walked away again. Ben started pouring out the mimosas to everybody.

“So, what exactly will we be doing at the beach?” Cameron asked.

“Well, Y/N just wants to sit in the sand and read.”

“You asked me what my perfect vacation would entail. That’s it.”

“That’s it, huh?” Ben asked.

“Something alcoholic to drink, a beach, a stack of books, and maybe a good-looking guy next to me,” you replied with a shrug, taking a sip of your mimosa, making eye contact with Ben. “What about you?”

“Something alcoholic to drink, a beach, lying next to a good-looking woman while she reads a stack of books,” Ben lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile.

You tried to come up with something to reply with, but you couldn’t. Your brain sort of short circuited for a moment when Ben smiled. This day was going to be interesting.

At the beach, you spread out your towel and started to spread out your belongings under the umbrella that your hotel provided for you.

Ben and Cameron were supposed to be coming down after they changed into their bathing suits, but you and Nikki walked right to the beach.

You sat on your towel and pulled a book out of your bag to start reading. Nikki was lying in the sun, tanning.

“When do you think they’ll get here?” Nikki asked, her eyes closed.

“When they get here,” you replied, not looking up from your book, even though you were looking out of the corner of your eye to see if they were coming.

“Mate, you’re thinking way too hard about this,” Ben sighed. He felt like half of his holiday was just waiting on Cameron.

Cameron was fixing his hair now.

“I think you’re under thinking it,” Cameron shot back.

“Whatever, can we go now? Your hair is going to get messy again anyway.”

“You’re rather eager.”

“You dragged me on this holiday!” Ben threw his hands in the air. “I’m just trying to enjoy it!”

“By seeing Y/N in a bikini.”

“You don’t know she’ll be wearing one,” Ben replied, lamely.

“And you’re not denying it,” Cameron grinned. Ben could tell that he was loving this whole thing. “Come on, let’s go.”

You and Nikki were talking about possibly learning to surf sometime during the week, but then Nikki looked over your shoulder and her jaw dropped.

“Oh…my…God.”

“What?” You turned around to look and she grabbed your arm.

“Don’t! They’ll know we’re checking them out.”

Now you knew what Nikki meant.

“Nik, we’ve been checking them out for two days now.”

“Sh!” Nikki hissed at you. You rolled your eyes and went back to your book.

“Mind if we sit here?” Ben asked from above you.

You looked up at him and…now understood Nikki’s reaction. Ben looked sculpted. You could tell last night that he was built, but to see him without his shirt on? That just wasn’t fair.

“I…uh…I um…”

“Of course we don’t mind,” Nikki elbowed you. “We were just talking about possibly learning to surf sometime this week. What do you guys think?”

You thought about seeing Ben in a skintight wet suit. His hair slicked back and wet. His lips would probably be salty from the ocean… You shook that thought form your head. You’d met the guy LAST NIGHT! And this wasn’t what this vacation was supposed to be about. It was supposed to be about spending time with Nikki and relaxing. You know one way to relax is…

STOP!

“That would be fun. I’ve never been before,” Ben replied, looking at you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. The bathing suit you were wearing was under your cover-up still, but your legs were barely covered. You had them spread out in front of you. Ben licked his lips and looked away from you before his thoughts got the better of him.

The rest of the week, the four of you were almost always together. You ate almost all your meals together, went to the beach, and did take surfing lessons (you’d fallen a few times, but Ben helped you back up when you did).

Nikki and Cameron were all over each other the entire week. You and Ben had been much more subtle. Lingering touches and looks.

You all went to a bar and played pool on your second to last night there.

“Need help lining up the shot, love?” Ben offered you. He came up behind you put his arms around you and on top of yours. He manipulated your hand so that it was around the stick. The hair on the back of your neck stood up when he breathed instructions into your ear about how to get a better shot. You took and made the shot. You turned around and threw your arms around Ben’s neck, pulling him to you.

“I did it!” You kissed his cheek and then pulled back, slightly embarrassed that you had done that.

Ben smiled at you and slid his hand to your hips, keeping you close. “You did. I’d gladly help you anytime.”

You giggled and, reluctantly, moved out of his grip. “Cameron,” you turned towards him. “Your shot.”

On your last night, the four of you decided to go out to a club. You’d worn a short, tight, dress that you really hadn’t intended on wearing when you packed it (juuuust in case, you’d told yourself). You put on your wedges and fluffed your hair in the mirror one more time before you stepped out of your room.

Nikki was applying lipgloss with her compact and then looked at you. She gave a low whistle and grinned.

“Honey, he’s going to eat you alive.”

“God, I hope so,” you laughed as you looked over Nikki. She was wearing something similar to you. The shape was different, but it was still short and tight. She was wearing close toed heels.

“Speaking of,” Nikki turned to you, a serious look on her face. “Um…if we both decided to…ya know?”

“Do you mean if I want to have sex with Ben and you want to have sex with Cameron?”

“Yeah, that. Who gets what?”

You held your fist out to her and she mimicked you.

“On shoot, ready?”

You both shook your fists. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

You chose rock and Nikki chose paper.

“Yes! So I’ll bring Cameron back here, you and Ben can go to their room.”

You groaned. “Fine. Let’s get going though. We need to stop by their room and grab them anyway.”

“By the way, probably going to need the room tonight,” Cameron said nonchalantly as he tied one of his shoes.

Ben cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is that right?”

“Look, it’s our last night here and it’s now or never. We’re never going to see them again.”

Ben frowned at that, but knew that Cameron was right. The two of you might text for a bit, maybe stay in touch over social media, but there was an incredibly small chance that the two of you were actually going to see each other again, let alone have a relationship.

“You make some good points,” Ben sighed just as there was a knock on the door.

Two hours later, the four of you were on a dance floor. Ben had one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you to him.

“I think I need another drink! Come with me to the bar?” Ben nearly had to shout in your ear because of the music.

You nodded to Ben and looked to Nikki. She was whispering something thing in Cameron’s ear. He pulled back and looked at her with a smirk. He then nodded.

“Hey!” You got Nikki’s attention. “Ben and I are going to the bar! Need anything?”

“Um…no! We’re good!”

Ben took your hand and led you back towards the bar.

“Can we actually run outside for a bit? I need a smoke.”

“Sure!”

Ben changed course and went outside the bar, you tailing behind him. It was cooler than it was inside, but not cold. You were happy that Ben had taken you outside, if you were honest. Your ears were still ringing.

Ben leaned against the building and lit up his cigarette. “Do you want one?”

You looked at the pack that Ben was holding out to you. You shook your head. You watched Ben puff a couple times, just watching him. Maybe the alcohol was hitting you now, but you felt a little light headed.

“You alright, love?”

You nodded and Ben smiled at you around his cigarette.

“Maybe instead of going back inside, we could just,” Ben shrugged, “go back to the hotel?” He was trying to sound casual, but he was nervous that he had crossed that metaphorical line in the sand.

You watched him for a moment. You watched his face get a little more anxious the longer you didn’t answer. Finally, your face slowly broke out into a smile.

“Yeah, we can head back to the hotel. But, we should probably tell Nikki and Cameron.”

As if their ears were burning, Nikki and Cameron came stumbling out of the bar, seemingly attached at the lips.

“I don’t think they’ll be too worried about us,” Ben chuckled.

Nikki and Cameron broke apart and Nikki spotted you and Ben. She pulled Cameron over.

“Ben, mate, you’ve uh…you’ve got key to our room, yeah?”

“Yeah, I…”

“Great! See you tomorrow!” And just like that, Cameron and Nikki were practically running back towards the hotel. You and Ben watched them for a few moments until you turned back to him.

“Well,” you cleared your throat. “Maybe we should head back. Just to make sure they make it back okay.”

Ben finished his cigarette and then offered you his hand. You grinned and took his hand, intertwining your fingers.

The two of you walked back to the hotel quietly. Apparently neither of you were going to bring up that this was probably leading somewhere that you both had been waiting for all week. Or that this was probably going to be your last night together.

You made your way up to Ben’s floor, still not saying much. Ben opened the door to his room and you followed him inside. This was the kind of room you had expected when you and Nikki were talking about hotel rooms. It had two queen sized beds and a nightstand between them.

“You guys have an ocean view! We don’t have that,” you walked over to the window and could see the waves moving in the moonlight.

Ben watched you for a moment before he came behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“So, I don’t want to make any assumptions,” Ben started. “And I hope I haven’t been misreading things all week, but I would really love to kiss you right now.”

You turned around and looked at him. You cupped his face in your hands, running your thumbs along his cheekbones.

“You haven’t misread anything,” you pulled him closer, finally, FINALLY, putting your lips on his.

Ben groaned into your mouth and slid his hands down to your ass. You jumped in surprise and then giggled.

“Oh, tonight’s going to be fun.”

Nearly two hours later, you stared up at the ceiling as Ben stroked your hair. Your heart was still

“Wow, you um…wow,” you breathed out, trying to catch your breath.

Ben chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I was thinking the same thing about you.”

“Do you think we can order some room service? I’m starving.”

Ben tried to reach for the phone but grunted instead. “Can’t reach the phone. Guess we can’t do it.”

“Fine,” you started to roll over, but Ben grabbed you closer, making you laugh.

“No, see? It’s impossible.”

“Beeeeen,” you whined. “Come on.”

“Alright,” Ben let go of you. “Order what you want.”

“Oh I will, and we are charging it to Nikki’s room.”

You ordered you and Ben a couple of cheeseburgers and fries, along with a couple drinks that were filled with tequila.

Once you hung up, you rolled onto your stomach and sighed. Ben started kissing down your back and you hummed.

The two of you laid in bed for a few minutes, pressing kisses to each other. Then there was a knock at the door.

“Better put some clothes on, darling. Don’t want to give the bellhop a show,” Ben smacked your ass as he stood up and put his boxers back on.

You gasped and swatted at him as he walked by. You grabbed your underwear and Ben’s undershirt, putting them both on quickly. You liked how Ben’s shirt was big on you and smelled like him.

The bellhop brought the food in. You gave him a smile and a thank you. And then you realized that you probably looked like you had just gotten the life fucked out of you (which you sort of had). The bellhop, to his credit, nodded at you like he didn’t notice anything. He left and Ben smiled at you.

“We should eat and get our strength back up,” Ben sat down next to you.

“Oh really? Why do you say that?” You asked him as you took a sip of your drink, tasting the strong tequila.

Ben put his lips next to your ear. “So we can have a lot more fun.”

Half way through your drink, you decided you wanted to dance again. You stood up and played a slow song on your phone.

“Benny,” you pulled on his hand. You didn’t even know if he liked being called that, but he stood up and pulled you into his arms. You placed your head on his naked chest.

The song continued to play as the two of you swayed to the rhythm.

“How opposed are you to moving to London?”

You laughed through your nose.

“Well, I’ve got to at least finish the semester and graduate. But are you set on London? Maybe we could runaway.”

“To where?”

“Hm…Paris?”

“What about Greece?”

“Oooh,” you looked up at him. “I’d like that.”

“Deal,” Ben lifted your chin, kissing you. “We’ll run away to Greece.”

“Go off the grid?”

“Of course. What can do to make money?”

“Hm...have a fruit stand?”

Ben burst out laughing. “Perfect.”

You both knew it wouldn’t happen. You both knew you were, in all honesty, not going to see each other again. But if you kept up the fantasy, you didn’t have to address that.

Once the second song finished, you pulled your head up and looked at Ben.

“Do you have your strength back?” He asked you.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good,” Ben growled before throwing you back on the bed.

You heard knocking at the door and it made you groan. You were exhausted and just rolled over. You felt a pair of arms tighten around you. You smiled and inhaled deeply, smelling Ben.

The knocking came again, this time harder.

“Ben! Mate! I don’t have a key! Open the bloody door!”

Ben looked at you and then rolled out of bed. He threw on a pair of shorts before he opened the door.

“Well hello,” Cameron grinned like a wolf as he came in the room. “Hi, Y/N. How was your night?”

You wrapped yourself in the blanket and sat up, making sure that Cameron couldn’t see anything. “Great, thanks. How was yours?”

“Oh good, good. Do um…you two know what time it is?”

“Can’t be that late, can it?” Ben squinted at the clock on the bedside counter. 3:08pm

“Holy shit!” You exclaimed. There was no way you’d slept that late! You hadn’t slept that late…well ever!

“Yeeeeah, and we were supposed to be out of here at twelve.”

“Our flight leaves in two hours!” You realized.

“Yes, Nikki is very worried that you two will be late.”

“Fuck me,” you muttered.

“It seems to me Ben did that last night,” Cameron smirked.

“Oh shut up,” Ben gave Cameron a punch to the arm and then he looked at you. “You should probably get going, love.”

You nodded and stood up, making sure the blanket stayed around you. You grabbed your clothes and went into the bathroom. You tried to fix your makeup and hair so that you looked somewhat presentable and then put your dress back on. You held your shoes in your hands so that you didn’t have to put them back on. You grabbed Ben’s clothes and almost walked out, until you saw something on the counter. You debated grabbing it, but took it, hiding it in your dress.

You came out to see Ben and Cameron packing their bags. It really made you realize that this was the last you were going to be seeing of them. It made you sad.

Ben saw you come out of the bathroom and was hit with the same kind of emotions. He walked over to you and you tried to give him his shirt back.

“Keep it It looks better on you,” Ben’s smile had a melancholy hint to it. He walked you out of the door, making sure it wasn’t closed, but that you two had privacy. “Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

“I don’t think I’ll let you go if you do that.”

“That’s not an answer,” Ben lifted one corner of his mouth. You pressed a kiss to it.

“I can’t. I really need to get packing and you, my friend, can be very distracting.”

“I can say the same thing about you.”

You shook your head and bit your bottom lip. Then you looked at him.

“This is going to sound weird, but I’m really going to miss you,” Ben stroked your cheek.

“I’ll miss you too,” you sighed, leaning into his touch.

Ben pulled you into a breath taking kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself against him one more time. You finally pulled away when you felt like your lungs were about to give out.

Ben rested his forehead to yours, trying to catch his breath too.

“I’ll see you in Greece,” you smiled.

Ben chuckled and smiled back. “I’ll see you in Greece.”

The two of you kissed one more time before you finally pulled yourself away and walked down the hallway.

Ben watched you and then went back inside after you disappeared into the lift. Cameron was sitting on the bed, watching him.

“Alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. You?”

Cameron just shrugged. “It was a good holiday.”

Ben ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Yeah, good holiday.”

Once you were in the elevator, you pulled out what you had grabbed from Ben’s bathroom out of your dress and looked at it. The little plastic card had the room number on it. You knew they’d turn off your access as soon as Ben and Cameron checked out of the hotel, but at least you could remember your last night in Hawaii.

You got your room to find Nikki running around and just throwing things into your bags.

“Y/N! We need to get going! We are so late! I want to hear all about your night, but we gotta go!”

You laughed at the panicked look on her face and then helped her pack. The two of you made it to your flight just before last boarding call. You leaned your head against the window, watching the Hawaiian landscape turn into ocean, hating how much you were leaving behind.

Years Later

You were washing dishes after dinner. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Then a pair of lips were pressed to your neck.

“We should have a date this weekend,” your husband, Dean, whispered in your ear.

You giggled as he continued kissing your neck. “A date, huh? And just who would watch Ollie?”

“Mama!” The three-year-old in question came waddling over to you.

Your husband picked him up and held him on his hip. “Hey, bud, what do you think about going to Gram’s house on Friday night?”

Ollie’s face lit up and he clapped his hands together. “Yay! Gam’s house!”

You chuckled. Your son loved his grandparents.

“Well that’s settled. Now, it’s bath time!”

“Nooooo!” Ollie started wiggling as Dean took him upstairs.

After you finished some notes on a patient’s file and told Ollie goodnight, you went into your master bedroom, where Dean was already lying in bed. You got ready for bed in the bathroom and then came out to see Dean scrolling through his phone.

“What are you looking at, babe?” You asked as you go into bed with him.

“Movies we can go see on Friday,” he replied, not looking away from his phone. “Oh! What about that Queen movie that just came out?”

You hummed, non-noncommittal. You liked Queen, but enough to spend your date night watching a movie about them? The two of you hadn’t been on a date for a couple months.

“It’s got that guy from ‘Mr. Robot’. You like him right?”

Before you answered, he perked up again.

“Oh! And the kid from ‘Jurassic Park’. A guy from an ‘X-Men’ movie. Huh. Looks like Littlefinger from ‘Game of Thrones’, too.”

“Sounds like you’ll love this movie. You like all those things,” you joked with him.

Yes, you’d seen some episodes of ‘Mr. Robot’ in passing while Dean was watching it. You, of course, had seen ‘Jurassic Park’ and ‘Game of Thrones’. ‘X-Men’ movies, though, weren’t your thing.

“Here, take a look,” Dean handed you his phone, the preview for the movie already playing.

You watched it for a moment when you thought you saw a familiar face. And then again. No. There was no way. You gripped the phone tighter. He just looked… Then you heard his voice. It had to be. Ben.

“So, what do you think?” Dean asked. You hadn’t even realized the trainer had ended. What were the odds?

“I um…yeah. We should give it a shot. Get the tickets. Sounds good. Friday? Awesome,” your voice cracked on the last syllable.

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeeeeah. So…I have a fun story to tell you. Remember how I said I hadn’t been to Hawaii since college?”

“Yeeeeeah?”

“Well, Nikki and I went to this restaurant that was right across from our hotel, right? And all the tables were full except for this one…”

You ended up seeing a different movie on date night.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #rami malek #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #lucy boynton #queen #bohemian rhapsody #Bo Rhap #bo rhap cast #boh rhap #song fic #krissys writings

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mystic-lodi · 4 years

Text

A Tinder Date Amongst Friends - Chapter 1 (Yoosung)

Ship: YoosungxMC

Word Count: 2,414

Rating: T for Language

ao3 link

...

Tinder. The hellhole of an app that leads users to download it to their phone for approximately eight days, delete the app, and then proceed to redownload it a few days later because certainly it’s not as bad as you remember. I knew all this, and yet here I was, once again downloading Tinder after a long session of crying in the shower and convincing myself that this time would be different. This time, I wouldn’t receive any unsolicited dick pics. This time, I wouldn’t have to endure bland conversations about my favorite color or try to figure out how to respond to various almost nonsensical pick up lines. This time, I would meet someone who would let me forget about Yoosung.

Try as I might, nothing for the past year has been able to get me over this adorable blonde haired boy. While preparing for my first RFA party, I thought we had a mutual attraction but he wasn’t reciprocating my advances, so I backed off and decided to swallow my feelings. I assumed things would get better and we would become close friends. That’s what happened, but not quite in the way I expected. Spending more time with him only sparked more feelings, leading me down a rabbit hole of late nights over thinking my texts to him and debating whether or not I should just suck it up and tell him already. We’d spent countless hours just chatting into the night over the phone, gossiping about the other RFA members or discussing plans to go to conventions, but never once could I bring myself to tell him. Weeks, months, and now a year of this, I finally decided that I needed to be more proactive in moving on, which led me to this horrible app.

The first time I downloaded it, it wasn’t too bad. Just a creep or two, but nothing significant. I got bored and deleted it. A few weeks later, I downloaded it again, and that’s when the creeps started pouring in. Now on my fifth attempt, I started to ask what was wrong with me. Why did I keep doing this? Was I hoping for some Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet?

“Well, there’s no harm in trying,” I mumbled to myself as I typed in my phone number and created a new account. The app loaded my selected photos, the calm before the storm. I waited patiently and it made a soft ding. Let the swiping frenzy begin.

Shirtless in the first pic. Swipe left.

Vaping through his nose. Swipe left.

Kinda cute hair cut. I stopped and decided to click to his next photo. His dog kissing him open mouth. Quick swipe left.

Cute smile. Look at those-

My heart skipped a beat.

“Yoosung?!”

I paused for a moment, letting it sink in. I didn’t know what to do. Should I swipe left? That could be weird though. What if my profile shows up for him? Would he swipe right on me for shits and giggles but think it’s odd I didn’t also swipe right for shits and giggles? Before I could go further down that road, my thumb ignored my brain and listened to what my heart was screaming, I swiped right. I held my breath. And then a window popped up.

You and Yoosung matched! Send a message below and say hi!

Shit. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? What do I say? Should I wait for him to send something first? Man, what the hell am I doing…

> “Hey lol fancy seeing you here 😂”

Okay, sent. That should be fine. Not flirty, but not rude. I shut off my phone before anyone else’s profile could show up. I let out a big sigh of relief, so incredibly glad that was over.

Ding!

Dammit. Hesitantly, I tipped my phone up to check what notification I had received. It felt like my throat was closing up as I spotted the little flame shaped Tinder icon. Quicker than I’d like to admit, I unlocked my phone and immediately went to my messages. It was from Yoosung.

> “Ikr! I never thought of you as one to have a tinder lol”

Now what does that mean? Was that a good thing? Does he mean that I seem too innocent to have an account, or does he mean that I seem like someone who’d be above all that? Or did he think I was dating someone, and that’s why he never returned my advances…? I shook my head vigorously. He’d known me for a year and I constantly complained about my singlehood. He definitely knew I wasn’t seeing anyone.

> “What, do I seem too innocent for one?”

I read it over a few times and then deleted the draft. It seemed too accusatory.

> “I’m less innocent than I look, Yoosung ;)”

I immediately deleted that one. It was way too flirty.

> “What about you? I never expected to see you here either!”

That was the best I was gonna be able to muster in my current frenzied state of mind, so I sent it. The three little dots signifying Yoosung responding popped up quicker than expected, causing me to stare with rather intense anticipation while I waited for his response.

Ding!

> “I thought it was about time for me to try a bit harder to get a girlfriend, apparently me flirting in person doesn’t come across very well ^^;”

Flirting in person? Had he been flirting with someone before, and I never knew? I felt a little pang in my heart.

> “Well, how’s it been going so far?”

I didn’t really want to know the answer to that.

> “I’m ngl, not that great,, Man, tinder is a weird place lol”

Oh, that was a better response than I was expecting. Of course I wanted him to be happy. Nothing in the world would put a smile on my face faster than seeing him happy. I wasn’t over him in the least at this point, though. There was no harm in slightly jealous thoughts as long as I didn’t share them out loud, right?

> “What about you?”

He wanted to know how my Tinder escapades were going? That’s kind of odd. No, he was definitely just asking because I asked him first.

> “About the same for me too lol”

That wasn’t wrong. Well, not until he showed up.

> “I have a fun idea!”

I smiled softly to myself, imagining his wide grin as he sent the message.

> “Lemme hear it!”

The three little dots showed up and then disappeared. Showed up again, disappeared again… What in the world was he typing?

> “We should go out for a fancy dinner date!”

I nearly choked on my own saliva. A date?! Did he just ask me out on a date? The dots showed up again. My heart started racing.

> “If neither of us are meeting anyone on here, I thought it’d be fun if we pretended we’re on a date, got all dressed up, and went out to eat! :D”

Damn this boy. This sweet, adorable, dumb boy. My heart started to calm down a bit, anxiety replaced by a mix of calmed and disappointed. My racing thoughts began to slow and one in particular stood out.

> “That sounds kinda fun actually, let’s do it!”

I smiled at the thought of Yoosung all dressed up. Sitting through a dinner while trying my best to not reach across the table and hold his hand or brush his hair out of his eyes would be worth it if I meant I could get to see him and talk to him and just feel his presence near me.

> “Perfect! I can pick you up tmrw night around 7, does that work?”

Of course that worked. Any time worked. If I had something to do, I would happily rearrange my schedule to be able to meet up with him.

> “Definitely, I’ll see you then!”

> “Can’t wait! :D”

That last comment made me giddy. Maybe it wasn’t romantic, but it still made me so excited to know that he couldn’t wait to see me. Finally prying myself off the couch I had been lazily perched in for who knows how long, I quickly went up to my bedroom to rifle through my closet and find what I would be wearing tomorrow night. It couldn’t be anything too revealing, it wasn’t a romantic date. But it had to be something classy, since wherever Yoosung was going to get reservations was most likely going to be a classy place, seeing as he did call it a “fancy dinner date.” I froze in my tracks, one hand gripping the now open closet door and the other between hangers. This was going to be my one and only chance to go on a date with him. Realizing this, I felt a new, sudden wave of confidence run through me. I was gonna go all out, strut my stuff, even if it killed me. What did I have to lose?

…

Ding! Ding! Ding!

I groaned and rolled over, my arm flopping out to grab my phone and turn off my alarm. My eyes were squinting tightly to try and block out the late afternoon sun streaming through my window. My phone lockscreen read 6:15pm. A grin broke out on my face. A day and a half of waiting, napping to fill in the time, and now I only had forty five more minutes until our “date.” I groggily and slowly pulled myself up from under my covers and made my way over to my closet. On the back of the door, I had hung up a short, black, off the shoulders high-low dress that came down to mid thigh in the front and just below the knees in the back. On the floor I had placed a pair of matching black heels and a silver handbag. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for having picked this out in the dead of night, half asleep the night before.

I slipped out of my t-shirt and shorts and into a bathrobe, making my way over to the bathroom to put on some makeup. I leaned over my sink and, with my face far too close to the mirror, I applied soft brown and red eyeshadows, a gentle eyeliner wing, and some fantastically red lipstick that popped in the best way. I leaned back and admired my handywork, earning myself another mental pat on the back. I brushed out my hair, deciding to keep it natural with its soft waves, before I made my way back to my bedroom. I carefully, slowly slid my dress on. I then moved over to my bed, sitting on the edge of it to put on my heels.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

I sighed and turned off another phone alarm, this one signifying it was 6:45, giving me fifteen more minutes to mentally prep. I leisurely strapped on my heels as I let my mind wander. Why did I agree to this? I mean, obviously it’s because I wanted to go out on a date with Yoosung, but this wasn’t even going to be a date. Was I gonna try and seduce him or something? Is that why I was getting so dressed up for this? No, that wasn’t part of the plan. If he didn’t have the same feelings for me that I did for him, I wasn’t going to force myself onto him. I just want him to be happy, whether that’s with me or without me.

Suddenly, a harsh clunking sounded from downstairs and I jumped slightly, the sound pulling me from my thoughts. I stood up, taking a few careful steps to test out my heels and I was ready, moving quickly to go investigate the sound. The sound returned, this time a bit quieter, but I finally recognized the sound as knocking.

“Coming!” I shouted. I rushed over to the door, quickly swung it open, and I froze in blissful shock. I smiled ear to ear when I saw Yoosung in front of me. He stood at my doorstep with a nervous smile on his face and a single long stemmed pink peony in his hands, dressed to the nines in dark blue suit, a long soft yellow tie pairing nicely with a lighter blue dress shirt, and of course his adorable two brown hair clips pinning back his hair.

“Yoosung, you…you look amazing…” I couldn’t help staring as I pushed my door open further to let him step in for a moment. A blush crept up on his cheeks and he stared at me for a moment. He shook his head lightly, as if to bring himself back into focus, and followed me inside. He made a soft noise that slightly resembled a gasp as he stretched his arm out to offer me the flower he held.

“This is for you!” His nervous smile grew wider and I giggled. Why was he so nervous? It’s not a real date, what did he have to be afraid of? It might be rude to ask that… He just looks so damn cute when he’s nervous!

“You’re too sweet, thank you so much! You didn’t have to…” I trailed off and became a bit nervous myself. His jittery energy ended up being rather infectious.

“Let me go put this away and we can get going,” I practically skipped over to my kitchen, straight to one of the higher cabinets. I stretched my arms up as high as they’d go to pull down a tall thin vase from a shelf that was almost too tall. I managed to pull it down without dropping it and I filled it with water. I slid the beautiful flower into it and placed the vase on my dining table.

“A-ah, you’re gonna display it…?” Yoosung stuttered and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, causing me to giggle once more.

“Of course! I want everyone to know what a wonderfully sweet friend I have!” Calling him my “friend,” I felt a little pang in my heart. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn I saw a bit of hurt in his eyes at this statement. I mustered up all the courage I could and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“C’mon, I don’t wanna be late,” I smiled back at him as I walked through the door.

#yoosung #yoosung x reader #yoosung x mc #yoosung kim #yoosung mysme #yoosung mystic messenger #yoosung mm #mysmes #mystic messenger #fanfic #writing #a tinder date amongst friends

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

Setting Up the Go-Ahead

Emma knew he was standing there.

Could feel the nerves coming off Henry as easily as they were her own. And she understood. She did. Getting everything you ever wanted had a tendency to be a little overwhelming, especially for a recently-turned thirteen-year-old who suddenly had parents and a whole hockey team read to claim familial rights.

Or: Henry’s just been adopted and wants to get something for Robin and Regina. He’s got some help when it comes to picking out a gift.

---

Word Count: 5.9K Rating: A very low T AN: Listen, I’ve got no self-control when things are normal, so add in working from home, my very real concern about the immediate future of sports, and my tendency to write hockey fic when I am stressed and...here we are. With a new Blue Line one shot collection. Also @eleveneitherway has been sending me gorgeous manips all week and I couldn’t not write something. I couldn’t. Will I ever post the stuff I haven’t or just keep writing new stuff? Who can say.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll ||

---

He didn’t knock.

He didn’t take another step.

Emma wasn’t entirely sure Henry was breathing, really.

He just stood there— frozen on the edge of Emma’s vision, while she did her best not to show her growing impatience and curiosity. But the numbers in front of her were also starting to blur, and she’d very quickly been running out of space on her office floor in the last few days and—

“Oh my God, Henry, what are you doing here?” Merida cried, stumbling back because there was a recently-turned thirteen-year-old standing in the open doorway to Emma’s office. Still just as silent as ever.

“Boss, are you laughing at this?” Emma shrugged, finally pulling her eyes away from paperwork about signed merchandise and it was only a few weeks into the season, but they were already planning for a Garden of Dreams night and there was a game on Friday night and she really could not see much of her office carpet anymore.

“Well, he was just lurking out there,” Emma said, fully expecting the dots of color that were already starting to linger on Henry’s cheeks. He ducked his head, suddenly very interested in his sneakers and she couldn’t imagine Regina was all that pleased with the length of his hair.

As was her now official-mother right.

Because Henry was now Henry Mills-Locksley with parents and a house downtown and more paperwork to prove it than Emma could have ever imagined, even when she’d let herself imagine something like that for herself. Mary Margaret had been helping Ariel and Aurora plan the inevitable party for the last two days.

While Emma had been drowning in team-branded merchandise and how, exactly, to staff all the phones for Garden of Dreams night.

“That is true,” Merida agreed. “He was kind of lurking out here.”

She slung her arm around Henry’s slumped shoulders, pulling him against her side with a soft huff because a recently-turned thirteen-year-old, it seemed, was prone to uncontrollable limbs and, if Emma was right, pre-party nerves.

“I wasn’t trying to lurk,” Henry mumbled. “Just—you know, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Emma’s lips twitched. “So you figured you’d just give Merida a heart attack?” “Aw, c’mon. She’s fine.” “Stout-hearted Merida.” “That makes it sound like I’m getting ready to go into battle,” Merida grumbled. “Or fight a bear or something.” “Is stout-hearted not a compliment?” Emma asked, leaning against the side of her desk and the few inches of open space. She crooked a finger towards Henry, lifting her eyebrows when he didn’t move immediately, but then he was flopping next to her and she kind of regretted the whole thing.

If only because his elbows appeared to be made of lead.

“No,” Merida answered, “It’s—” “—A little epic,” Henry said. “Right? Like, I’d feel good if someone stout-hearted was going to defend me from—” “—That bear?” Emma suggested. Henry’s head dropped again, in almost perfect time with his shoulders, but it was definitely because of the laugh he was trying to hide and Merida didn’t look all that impressed.

She moved the stack of papers in her hand. To her hip. Emma assumed that made it easier to glare at the pair of them.

“We figure out who’s going to answer the phones yet on Friday?” Emma asked.

Merida sighed, an entire head roll coming with it. “It’s a definite work in progress. Mostly because Aurora’s been so busy with—” She cut herself off when Henry tensed, shoulders going impossibly straight for a kid who’d been smiling an almost record amount since he’d gotten back from Family Court.

Emma narrowed her eyes.

Merida was going to drop the stack of papers if she kept moving them at their current rate.

“Why were you here, Henry?” Emma asked, nudging him with her elbow. But it wasn’t made of lead, and thirteen-year-olds were notoriously stubborn and she was fairly positive Mary Margaret was going to buy out a balloon wholesaler before this whole thing was finished.

Nothing.

More silence. More ridiculous shoulder movement.

“I’ll get Ariel up here, she’ll make you do some ridiculous routine so you don’t overwork the muscles up there” Emma threatened, but the words lost something when Merida snickered. “You’re not really helping.” Merida hummed. “That’s because I’m getting ready to tame some bears or whatever stout-hearted people do and—” She took a step, tip-toeing around piles of jerseys and boxes of pucks, nearly toppling a small mountain of hockey sticks. “I would bet everyone in this entire franchise several million dollars, that our dear teenager—” “—Aw, that’s really not funny,” Henry mumbled.

Merida ignored him, taping two fingers on the side of his still-red cheeks. “Is a little nervous about being the guest of honor at Friday’s post-game thing. And does not want to...what should we call it? Jinx it? There’s paperwork, Henry. Nothing’s going to happen. Robin and Regina wouldn’t let anything happen.” “I know,” Henry said, barely above a whisper and something in the back of Emma’s brain startled at that.

She glanced at Merida. Who was not very good at shrugging covertly. “Saw that,” Henry muttered. “And—it’s not really that. Like, at all. I...I know Robin and Regina aren’t going to back out and obviously I’m stupid happy about that. I mean, I’ve got a house and a room to myself and they’re already talking about a vacation? An actual vacation, maybe something during the All-Star break, which is just...nuts.”

“Did you just say stupid happy?” Merida laughed. “And nuts? Is that how the teens are speaking these days?”

Henry made a face. “I think that means you’re not hip, Mer,” Emma laughed.

“Is not hip the right terminology here?” Merida asked. “No,” Henry answered. “And neither one of you are very good at this. Listen, I’m not worried about the party or, like, I don’t know the rest of my life or whatever. But…” “But,” Emma echoed.

She waited for the answer, or the rest of the sentence, curiosity growing even more than her impatience, because Emma suddenly had a very good guess as to what was going to come next. Only there were footsteps approaching her somehow still-open door. “Seriously, why don’t we ever close that thing?” she asked Merida, getting another less-than-enthusiastic shrug.

Henry chuckled.

“You’re not good at secrets either,” Emma chided, as Phillip leaned around the door frame, his own hair a disheveled mess. He was wearing socks with his sandals.

“Hey,” he said, sounding more than a little out of breath. “Henry, I thought we were going to meet downstairs.” Emma’s narrow eyes widened quickly enough that they nearly started to water, not sure where she wanted to look or who she was going to glare at intimidatingly. Phillip grinned. “Oh hey, Em,” he continued. “You know Cap’s looking for you. Something about coffee or tea or dark corners or something.” That made it easier for her to decide who to glare at.

“What do you want, Rook?”

“Henry. Was that not obvious?” “Anyone ever tell you that you have exceptionally pale legs? When’s the last time you saw any kind of sunshine?” “I’ve been a little busy,” Phillip reasoned, stepping into the office and immediately laughing. “At some point, you’re going to have to come up with a better organizational schedule. Someone’s going to break something in here.” “Schedule is not the right word either,” Merida muttered.

Phillip made a dismissive noise, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts and rocking back on his heels. He glanced at Henry, wide eyes and impossibly high eyebrows and Emma was going to blame that last part on Killian.

Wherever he was.

“You know kid," Phillip drawled, “I”m going to be a little offended if you were asking for outside help. Here I thought we were a two-man scheme.” Henry squeezed one eye shut.

“What the hell is going on?” Emma asked sharply. “And where is Killian?” “Probably lurking in that dark corner waiting for you,” Phillip muttered. Merida kicked his ankles. “Hey, hey, I just got off the ice!” “Killian’s probably with Ariel then,” Henry said. “Which makes what you were saying before even less intimidating, Emma.” Merida was still kicking Phillip — Emma only a little worried about the state of the paperwork, but then he moved an arm around her assistant’s middle and the whole thing was so absolutely and completely absurd that she couldn’t be anything except almost entertained. She let her head fall onto Henry’s shoulder.

He smiled.

“What’s your super top secret plan, kid?” Emma pressed.

Henry still didn’t answer immediately, eyes flitting up towards Phillip — “How’d you know I was up here?” he asked.

Phillip grunted when Merida stepped on his foot, but there was something just on the edge of his expression that Emma couldn’t quite name. It left her stomach flipping a little in anticipation, a nervous energy that was equal parts hope and happiness and she kind of wanted her boyfriend to be waiting in a dark corner somewhere.

Preferably with hot chocolate.

He’d totally know to get her hot chocolate.

She just had to help their resident teenager first.

And his teenage-like partner, apparently.

“It’s one building,” Phillip said. “There were only so many places you could go. Plus, you know, even if I think it sucks you want to expand our squad, it seemed pretty inevitable you’d go to Emma for help.” “Help?” Emma asked. “Help with what, exactly?” Phillip stared at Henry. And his exceptionally scrunched nose.

“If you’re not nervous about family life,” Merida started, “then what’s going on with you? Nothing bad, right?” “No, no, no.” Henry shook his head. “What could be bad?” Emma kissed the top of his head. He huffed. “Stand down stout-hearted defender,” she suggested, Merida clicking her tongue in frustration.

“I feel like I’ve missed all the high points of this conversation,” Phillip sighed. “And the kid’s not going to give you a straight answer. He’s spent way too much time with Lucas.” “Oh, I’m going to tell her you said that,” Emma cried. “He wants to get something for Locksley and Gina. Like—a decade-plus worth’s of backlogged mother and father’s day presents. He’s been saving money.” Emma’s jaw dropped.

And, really, that was kind of a lame reaction, but her heart also felt like it was growing and her stomach was doing that flipping and flopping thing again and Merida had stopped trying to check Phillip with that stack of paperwork. So, maybe it was an entirely appropriate reaction.

“Stupid happy,” Merida murmured.

Emma tried not to sniffle. “Heard that,” Henry said, the smile obvious even when her neck was still bent at a wholly uncomfortable angle. “And it’s not really wrong. So, uh—I mean, it was an idea, I guess. Just since it all started, and Robin and Gina have done so much for me and—” “—They’re not looking for payment in kind, kid,” Emma interrupted.

“That’s not what this is.” “No?” “No. It’s—I don’t know how to explain it. It’s...a sign or something. Like laces and rings and—’ “—This is a good tactical approach, Henry,” Phillip said. “Using Em’s own emotional heirlooms against her.” “We’ve really got to learn how words work,” Merida complained. “Rook, did you go to college?”

“Mer, please don’t act like you aren’t painfully aware of the backstory of every single person on this team. It’s almost more insulting than Henry trying to expand the squad without asking me about it first.” “We never agreed to call it a squad,” Henry argued.

Emma was starting to choke on her own laughter. Which wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it probably should have been. She rested her chin on Henry’s shoulder instead. “Points to me, Rook,” she said. “And while we’re all—what did you call it, painfully aware of your vaunted career at the University of North Dakota and your early elimination from the NCAA Tournament, I’m still not getting a straight-forward answer on several things.” “You want to list your questions?” Phillip quipped. “Yes, obviously I want to list them. One, North Dakota is a dumb state. Two, I cannot imagine why Henry asked you to be on this squad. Three—” “—Can we please stop calling it a squad,” Henry groaned.��

“Three,” Emma repeated, “If Henry is here, then that means he needs some help coming up with something to get Robin and Regina and I’d like to know if we’re buying two separate things or one lump gift and if there’s wrapping involved because I’m really bad at wrapping gifts.”

Phillip beamed. “Don’t insult North Dakota like that again.”

“10-4, Rook.” He rolled his eyes. “So, what’s our biggest obstacle, then?” Emma grunted when Henry jumped up, the muscles in her neck not all that pleased to be suddenly forced back into service. “You’re going to help?” Henry asked sharply, both Phillip and Merida doing a God awful job of not laughing.

Emma bit the side of her tongue.

“You came up here, kid,” she said. “And on a scale of one to most insulting, you thinking you’d even have to ask is like a billion.”

He exhaled — loud and a little nervous, possibly a bit overwhelmed, which was a feeling Emma understood only too well. No family and then almost too much family, memories of another meeting in that office just a few months earlier, the floor covered in merchandise and a kid who was worried about getting it all. As if he deserved anything less. As if his parents did. She tugged on her laces before she could stop herself.

Phillip practically cackled.

“Alright,” he said, “so should we start brainstorming, or how does this work, exactly?”

Merida stepped on his toes one more time. “Let me get some paper.”

One sheet of paper, it turned out was not enough. Merida had to get back up more than once, combing through the mess that was Emma’s desk to find a handful of pens and more notebooks, handing them out to the lot of them, sprawled out in the bits of spaces on her floor.

Phillip had laid down at some point, one leg bent and the other crossed over his knee, head lolling back and forth while he hummed under his breath. Henry was flat on his stomach, left foot tapping out to the same rhythm Phillip was barely following, while Emma and Merida sat back-to-back, alternating between coming up with thanks for adopting me gift ideas and trying to name every person who worked at Madison Square Garden and could be coerced into answering a phone on Friday night.

“Nah, not him,” Merida objected. “He’d yell at someone if they didn’t donate enough.” Emma clicked her tongue. “Is that a good or bad thing?” “Bad,” both Phillip and Henry answered before Henry added, “what do you think about...dinner somewhere?” “If you want to face A’s wrath after,” Merida mumbled.

“And we don’t really have time during the season, kid,” Phillip added. “It’s got to be a thing, not necessarily an experience. Although the invitation for you and Rol to hang out at our apartment for the night is open.” “Yeah, nothing says family, like separating the family,” Emma said.

“Come up with something better then.”

“I don’t know—I...what about making something?” “You want Henry to make something? Like what?” “Something,” Emma repeated. “Thoughtful. Arty.” “I’m going to call Mary Margret,” Merida announced. “At least then there’d be something coherent about these conversations.”

“As if you’re not keeping up,” Phillip chided.

“And I don’t know if I can do art stuff,” Henry admitted. “What would I even make? I’m not five. I’m not going to draw things.” “Five’s the cut-off, then?” Henry rolled...his whole body.

“And what exactly were you bringing to the squad, Rook?” Emma asked, as much sarcasm as she could fit into the words. “How long have you two been planning all of this?” Phillip propped himself up on his elbows, the sandal on his left foot barely holding on. She’d taken off her shoes as soon as she’d sat on the ground. “I’m an excellent present-buyer,” he said, with enough pride that Emma couldn’t even really fault him for it. “Ask Rose, she’ll—what? What’s with the face?” “I’m sorry, do you call your fiancée Rose?” “God, that’s gross,” Merida muttered. Henry moved his hand over his mouth.

Maybe they were just taking turns blushing. Phillip was as red as Merida’s hair, eyes moving anywhere except the gaze Emma left boring into the side of his head, and whatever noise bubbled out of her was so goddamn happy she still couldn’t quite come to terms with it.

She was going to help Mary Margaret buy out that balloon wholesaler.

“I don’t want to hear it, Em,” Phillip warned. “You and Cap are constantly disgusting and Rose and I have been together way longer—” “—Is it a competition?” “Everything on this team is a competition,” Henry shrugged, and well, that was fair.

Phillip’s eyes were very wide. “All I’m saying is that I’ve known her forever and in the grand scheme of grand romances in this whole thing, we’re definitely in contention for top three. We’re at least beating Scarlet and Belle, for sure.” “How do you figure?” “Um, did you not hear my romantic nickname for my fiancée? Scarlet needed to break his leg to call Belle his girlfriend and they’d been dating forever.” “He’s got a point, boss,” Merida said.

Emma hummed. “And who’s on the top of your list, huh?” “Worried about your title, Em?” Phillip asked knowingly.

“Oh shut up.” “I don’t know. I think Locksley and Gina are gunning for that top spot. They’ve got the family and the cute kids and—” Henry gagged. “Listen, Henry, you’re cute, get with it. And now you’ve got parents who are also pretty into each other and, they may not have dark corners to make out in, but I think that slow and steady romance has its own advantages.” “Speaking from experience?” Emma added. “And you’re way too confident in your own humor now, Rook. I think you’ve been spending too much time with Scarlet.”

“Something like that. On both fronts.”

She was starting to get used to the way her cheeks ached from smiling so much.

“None of this is helping,” Henry yelled. “It’s—it’s all gross and—”

He made another noise, flailing limbs and teenage-type angst and Emma tugged her lips behind her teeth before she looked back at Philipp, still a little flush with a pen stuck behind his ear. “That may be something you have to get used to,” he said. “And I stand by my original claim that we should get jewelry of some sort. It’s an easy gift, covers both our giftees, and is easy to wrap because of the boxes, plus Rose loves when I buy it.” “I’m sorry,” Merida muttered, “I really just can't get over Rose. How did that start? Was it Shakespearean? By any other name or something like that?” “He went to UND, Mer,” Emma pointed out, fully expecting the look she got. “You can’t expect that kind of depth to a nickname.” Phillip did his best to flip her off, but Henry was still there and he had to settle for tossing his pen in Emma’s direction. It felt six inches away from her hand. “Didn’t really hit your mark, did you?” “Passing isn’t my thing,” Phillip grumbled.

“Yuh huh. You’re still avoiding the answer.”

“If it’s an actual flower pun, I might scream,” Merida guaranteed.

Phillip grimaced. “It’s not. Kind of. Just it’s—her mom was big on flowers when she was growing up and she used to prick her finger a lot and—”

Emma almost threw a puck at whoever was knocking on her door, Henry burying his head in his crossed arms, even as his whole body shook with his laughter. And Killian didn’t do much more than lift his eyebrows, feet crossed at the ankles and fingers tugging on the still damp hair at the back of his neck.

“Did I interrupt something?” “Nah, Cap,” Phillip said almost immediately. “Took you long enough to get up here.” He was holding two cups in his other hand. Emma was genuinely not sure how much more of this her heart could take. A lifetime, she was starting to hope. But that felt like getting ahead of themselves a little and, as much as she’d hate to admit it, Phillip was right — slow and steady romance had several things going for it.

“Got impatient,” Killian said, all calm and easy and he didn’t trip or flinch when he weaved his way through the office. “Hi, love.” “Were you waiting for me?” “I did mention the impatience, right?”

“Mmhm,” Emma nodded. She reached up, the warmth of the cup working through her and into her soul and she was a great, big giant sap. Henry was standing up again. So he could bob on the balls of his feet.

“What’s with the kid?” Killian asked, one side of his mouth tugging up when he nodded at Henry.

“We’re buying a present.” “Are we?” “Me,” Henry corrected. “I am buying a present and asked some of the adults in my life to be helpful, but—” “—Ok, we are being very helpful,” Phillip cut in. “I’ve come up with half a dozen stellar ideas and you’ve shot them all down.” “Must not be as stellar as you think then, huh, Rook?” Killian asked, peering over the top of his cup. His fingers grazed Emma’s shoulder when he walked by, perching on the same spot of desk she’d been sitting in what now felt like an eternity ago.

“We’re stuck on jewelry, it seems,” Emma said.

“And this is what—a thanks for adopting me gift?” “I mean, we’re not calling it that, exactly.” “That’s basically what it is, though,” Henry said. He dropped next to Killian, as casual as anything, but Emma knew it was exactly the opposite. And they didn’t really look similar — Killian’s hair darker and his shoulders broader than Henry’s, but Emma could see the glimpses of one in the other when they sat there, near-matching looks of concentration and understanding, more common ground between the three of them.

She took another sip of hot chocolate.

So as not to be tempted to kiss her boyfriend while he sat next to Henry.

“And we’re buying one gift?” Killian asked. “Of the stellar variety?” “None of you are cool,” Henry mumbled.

“See if I score for you on Friday.” “You want to score for Emma, anyway, so—whatever.” “Whatever. Good argument.” “Who’s the teenager in this instance?” Merida asked.

Emma shook her head, already almost out of hot chocolate. “I honestly have no idea. But, yeah, combined present, or double present. Same thing for both of them. So that means it’s got to be something they both like or are both into, but—” “—Gina is proving a problem,” Phillip said begrudgingly. Killian’s eyebrows all but disappeared. “Don’t do that, Cap. Seriously, this is not helping at all and you were waiting to make out with Em and, you know, none of us can cope with that.” “Honestly,” Henry agreed.

Killian ignored that. Or, so Emma assumed, when he didn’t say anything, just sat on the edge of her desk with his legs stretched and the tip of his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. It was distracting.

Emma wanted to pace.

She didn’t. She knew he was thinking something.

“Well,” she prompted, “what’s your great idea, then?” “How do you know I have an idea?” Killian challenged.

“You’re doing that thing with your face.” “My face?”

Emma hummed. She was out of hot chocolate. “Thinking face.” “I’m sorry, what?” “You do this thing with your face. When you start plotting. Your eyebrows get all high and your lips get really thin. It’s a habit.” “Sounds like you’re staring at my lips, Swan.” “Do we have to be here for this?” Phillip groused.

“Honestly,” Merida sighed. “And Cap if you’re not going to volunteer ideas for the Rangers’ currently reigning supreme romantic couple or sign some of those pucks Em hasn’t asked you about, then you should probably stop blowing off Ariel.” “Red’s planning a party. She’s not worried about my thighs.” “Are you worried about your thighs?” “Oh my God, stop talking about Cap’s thighs,” Phillip shouted.

Killian’s smirk gained power. Emma had to put her cup down. She was going to crush it in her hand. “Are we referring to Locksley and Gina as reigning supreme romantic couple now?” “There was a list,” Emma explained.

“And where did we end up?” “Second.” “That’s really disappointing.” “Isn’t it, just?” Phillip collapsed back, Henry’s head falling forward and—“You know Locksley’s nickname in college was Arrow?” Killian asked. He nodded when Emma’s jaw did that dropping open thing again, all the air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding rushing out of her in a huff. “Oh yeah, it’s not really all that creative. But the story, as I understand it, is that he used to hit the bullseye on every pass, so—you know college kids. Kind of stopped once he got to the pros, but I know he’s told Gina about it and it always makes her laugh.” “Laugh?” Emma repeated. “I don’t even want to suggest that Gina has ever giggled in her life. She’ll teleport here and kick me in the shins.” “And when you’re already so worried about your thighs.” “Exactly.” Emma stuck her lower lip out when she nodded, if only so Killian’s chest would shift as soon as his breath caught. “It’s a better nickname than what Rook calls Aurora.” “What does Rook call Aurora?” “Rose.” “No shit.” Phillip threw another pen. Emma couldn’t begin to imagine where he was getting them from. “You're a picture of responsibility,” he sneered. “There are kids here.” “He’s been on the ice before,” Killian said. “And I think you’re just worried about your standing in this list. What do you think about arrows, Henry?” He startled at the sudden inclusion in the conversation, nearly taking out a stick in the process. Both Emma and Merida winced. Loudly.

“Control your limbs,” Killian added, pulling Henry back to his side. “Arrows. Thoughts?” “Arrows,” Henry said. “Like more than one?” “Well, you’ve got two parents now, right?” “Yuh huh.” “Then yeah, plural.”

“What would we get though? Actual bows and arrows are a little—” “—Lord of the Rings,” Merida suggested. “Plus then you’ve got to worry about up-keep and a quiver and it’s a whole thing.”

Emma’s jaw was going to stay permanently dropped.

“What?” Merida asked. “That’s normal knowledge.” “Did you pick this up before or after the bear thing?” Emma laughed.

“Seriously, I'm disappointed I missed all the fun parts of this conversation,” Phillip muttered. “And if we’re looking for multiple presents, I continue to stand by jewelry suggestion. You get necklaces and it’s paternal and familial and decidedly emotional and everyone lives happily ever after. And, you know, I’ve got a guy.”

“You’ve got a guy,” Killian repeated slowly, careful to emphasize every word for maximum mocking potential.

“Yeah. Ros—Aurora has a charm bracelet that I’ve been adding onto since college. In North Dakota, Em.” “Did I miss something there?” “Just mocking alma maters,” Emma said. “And I think it’s a good idea. It’s sentimental without being cheesy and we could probably get it today. What do you think, Henry?” His smile could have rivaled the sun. And every light in the New York skyline.

Emma’s heart thudded.

And she didn’t quite count the seconds, but she might have been holding her breath again, eyes flitting across every person in her office until they landed on Henry and his smile and the lingering color in his cheeks.

He nodded.

“Someone will probably have to distract Gina and Robin for a couple hours. Where, uh—where do we meet this guy?” “This is not some backroom dealing,” Phillip sighed. “He owns a jewelry store in Chelsea. This is totally legit.” “And distraction sounds like a perfect job for Scarlet,” Killian added. “You want to go now?” “What?" Henry balked. "Now?” “Why not?” “I don’t—I don’t know. Yeah, ok. Now’s fine.”

It didn’t take long to enlist Scarlet in running interference — his laugh almost uproarious when he heard the plan and made sure to ruffle Henry’s hair before letting the kid follow Emma and Killian into a cab.

“Gina won’t like that,” Emma muttered, but Killian just waved her off.

“What Gina doesn’t know will not kill her. And cabs are good for the city-soul or something.” “Or something.”

And Phillip had been right about the store, necklaces and rings and bracelets and enough shiny things that Emma found herself blinking on instinct. But there was a section of charms and chains and Killian kept his hand on Henry’s shoulder the entire time.

Even when he was forty-two dollars short.

“Damn,” Henry mumbled, not bothering to quiet his disappointment. Emma didn’t blame him, could see the look on his face and remember the feeling that was practically wafting off him. She took a step forward on more instinct of the familial variety, resting her other hand on the only shoulder Henry had available.

That made it difficult to reach for her wallet.

It also gave Killian plenty of time to get his.

“Don't worry about it,” he said as if it wasn’t something incredibly important or another moment that Emma was going to hoard in the back corners of her brain. Henry tilted his head up, eyes gone wide and a little bit glossy as he opened his mouth to argue.

But Killian just shook his head, quick and brusque.

“Captain-esque,” Emma whispered. Killian winked. He tried, at least.

Henry grit his teeth, breathing as quickly as Phillip had earlier that afternoon. “Are you sure?” “Silly question,” Killian said. “I’m serious. I’m—” “—Part of this team, Henry. And if I’m captain of this team, then that means it’s my job to take care of everyone, right?” “It means you get to argue with the refs.” “Ah, well, we’ll say it’s a grey area, huh?” Emma kissed the top of Henry’s head again. She couldn’t think of anything else to do. Not when Henry kept blinking and Killian did the opposite, the lights from Phillip’s fancy jewelry store glinting off the pair of arrow charms sitting in front of them. “Yeah,” Henry said. “Ok. That’s, uh—thanks, Killian.” “How much you want to bet Gina’s going to cry when you give them to her?” “Gina doesn’t cry.” “Eh, I don’t know about that, kid. She definitely cried when she called me and Emma to tell us everything was official.”

Henry’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Oh, she’ll never forgive you for giving that up,” Emma said.

Killian shrugged. ‘I think she’ll have other things to worry about. I’m serious kid, what do you want to bet?” “I spent all my money,” Henry grumbled.

“So, we’ll bet practice time. Half an hour on the ice in Tarrytown if she does? I’ll sneak you on and face the wrath of a number of authority figures.” “Seriously?” “You gotta stop double checking.” Henry thrust his hand out — and Emma was sure she didn’t imagine the knowing look on the face of the guy behind the counter — shaking Killian’s and agreeing to terms as the register dinged loudly.

They bought Henry wrapping paper from the Duane Read two blocks away.

“Ten bucks says she excuses herself before bursting into tears,” Emma said, hours later, standing in their kitchen with a towel flipped over her shoulder.

Killian arched an eyebrow, another smirk tugging at the ends of his mouth. “I’d rather bet something other than money.” “Yeah, what?” “There’s plenty of corners in that restaurant.” “You want to make out?” “Yes,” he said, simple enough that Emma couldn’t contain her laugh. Or the joy that appeared to come with it every time she realized this was actually her laugh.

“Straight to the point, huh?” “No reason to beat around the bushes,” Killian shrugged. He crowded behind her, head dropping so he could trail kisses along the back of her neck and Emma seriously could not control whatever she was doing. Arching her back, and smiling like an idiot, reaching back to swat away his hands at the same time she tried to grab his hair. “You’re sending mixed messages, love,” Killian added, “I’ll think you don’t want to make out with me.” “In dark corners.” “Or anywhere, really. I’m not particular.” She laughed, body shaking against Killian’s when he tugged the towel off. That was probably for the best. And Emma couldn’t really keep her balance when he spun her, hands flying to his chest and chin jutted out on instinct, letting Killian catch her lips with his almost immediately.

That made it easier to tell he was smiling too.

Laughing, as well.

The whole lifetime thing was starting to seem more and more reasonable.

“Captain Killian Jones, a benevolent leader to his team and kids everywhere,” Emma mumbled, mostly into the side of his jaw. He was still smiling, she knew it.

“If you can think the word benevolent at this point, we’ve got problems.” “Maybe I’m just way smarter than all of you.” “That college degree’ll do it, yeah.”

She’d stopped believing this was a dream or a fantasy months ago, but Emma still couldn’t quite control the rush of emotion that flew down either one of her legs and up her arm, circling her heart and her soul and—”I love you,” she breathed.

“I love you too, Swan.”

“Yeah?” “Not something you have to double check either. We’re totally coming for Locksley and Gina’s relationship crown though.” “Competitive weirdo.” “Yeah, but you said you loved me. So…” He didn’t bother saying anything else, hands drifting towards the hem of Emma’s shirt and the button of her jeans and she got enough people to answer the phones the next afternoon.

And Regina Mills-Locksley burst into tears as soon as she opened the box.

Robin kept blinking.

In the middle of the restaurant uptown.

Surrounded by balloons and a cheering hockey team.

“Told you,” Killian mumbled, bumping Emma side.

She didn’t say anything, just let herself curl against his side and she was fairly certain she heard the shutter click on Will’s phone.

“You’ve got to put it on, Gina,” Will shouted, Belle on his leg and his chin hooked over her shoulder. “Now, now, now!” The rest of the peanut gallery started to chant as well, Phillip crying “You too, Locksley, fair’s only fair.”

They both had to try more than once — shaking hands and tear-stained cheeks, and Emma refused to be held responsible for the number of times she sniffled, particularly when Regina’s fingers ghosted over the charm as soon as it fell over her shirt, pulling Henry into a tight hug. Or, a day later when someone in the post-game scrum of a 4-2 victory over the Canadiens that included the go-ahead goal coming off Killian’s stick on a pass from Robin, asked “where’d the new jewelry come from, Locksley?” And it took a moment for him to respond, rolling his shoulders and sitting up a bit straighter. But then he grinned and looked directly at the camera in front of him.

“My son got it for me.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fanfiction #blue line one shot #i don't write about phillip enough #this is my quest to write about more side pairings #maybe even other pov???#who knows #seriously if you guys still read these stress-relief exercises of mine #it is very nice #so thanks for that

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rosedavid · 5 years

Note

hi! can you please write a fic where tj tries to teach cyrus to play basketball but he gets a little hurt, so tj patches him up? thanks!

i liked writing this prompt, so thank you so much! :) it ended up kind of angsty, but also sweet and fluffy. I hope you enjoy!!

Basketball Daze

“I want to learn how to play basketball,” Cyrus declares all the sudden.

TJ lifts himself up from his previous position against Cyrus’s chest with a grumble of objection. As he props his elbow underneath him to get a better look at Cyrus, his blonde hair flops across his forehead. His face is red and textured from laying against Cyrus’s shirt. In other words, to Cyrus, he’s never looked cuter.

TJ frowns, “Basketball? What brought that on? I thought you hated any sort of physical activity.”

Cyrus sighs, swinging his legs off the bed to go and splay the curtains away from the window. Sunlight bursts throughout the room. The intensity causes TJ to squint and flop back down onto the bed with a tired groan.

“We could just stay here and cuddle more,” TJ whines, burying his head into Cyrus’s pillow.

“We’re wasting this beautiful, sunny day!” Cyrus responds. “Also, we live in Shadyside, so who knows how long it will last.”

When TJ makes no effort to move, Cyrus comes over to tug his wrist insistently. “Come on, Teej, you’ve been wanting to teach me how to play forever, right?”

“Yeah,” TJ agrees, finally sitting upright with Cyrus’s help. “I guess I’m just confused as to why today of all days you’re so persistent.”

Cyrus shrugs, “Why not? I’m feeling peppy today, and my legs were getting restless laying there.”

TJ struggles to stand up, tripping over his own feet a few times. “Wait, you weren’t sleeping? Were you just watching me sleep?!”

“Maybe…” he trails off, cheeks reddening as he goes to defend himself. “You just look so soft and peaceful when you sleep!”

TJ tosses a pair of sneakers to him in response, but Cyrus can see the obvious blush he attempts to hide. He grins, still not over the fact that he makes TJ Kippen blush like that. It’s just another amazing privilege that comes with being his boyfriend. Honestly, sometimes it just all feels too good to be true. After they confessed to each other on the bench at Andi’s party, Cyrus walked home in a daze. When he woke up the next morning, he remembers frantically texting TJ to make sure it wasn’t all just a crazy fever dream.

Now, the two of them have fallen into a nice rhythm. After the few weeks of awkwardness that comes with any new relationship, they quickly began to figure things out. Both of them know each other’s schedules by heart at this point, so much so that they’ll meet each other outside of their classroom doors. Cyrus always comes to TJ’s practices when he can, and TJ makes sure to help Cyrus find inspiration for his creative writing course. Then, after school, they’ll either hang out by themselves or with their friends if they can. Weekends, though, are Cyrus’s favorite. Not only is there no school, but him and TJ always try to plan a date night during the weekend. Usually it’s nothing fancy, but it’s always just the two of them. They soon become the highlight of Cyrus’s week.

“Come on Romeo,” TJ comments, “Let’s get going! I always keep a spare basketball in my backpack.”

Cyrus starts laughing, but stops when he sees the serious expression on TJ’s face.

“Wait, seriously?!”

A confused expression pops up on TJ’s face. “Yes seriously!”

Unable to hold back, Cyrus starts snickering again, “TJ…”

“Don’t ‘TJ’ me! Not when you keep winter gloves and hats in your bag constantly.”

“You never know when you could need them!”

“Cy…it’s May.”

“My point still stands. Did you know once it snowed during a week in August, which is typically the hottest time of the year in Shadyside?”

TJ smiles, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the top of Cyrus’s head.

“You’re so smart,” he says, “and adorable.”

Once more, a blush heats up Cyrus’s face, this time spreading to the tips of his ears. Before he can get even more red, he grabs his bag and pulls TJ out the door with him.

They decide to walk to the park since Cyrus’s house has no sort of basketball hoop (of course), and TJ’s house is further away. Sure enough, the sunlight spreads across them. The sky is so blue it looks like a swatch of blue paint you find at a home improvement store. The air smells like cotton and blossoming flowers. Although the telltale signs of spring linger everywhere, the tops of the mountains remain capped with snow.

When they arrive at the outdoor basketball courts, there’s hardly anyone else there. Cyrus sighs in relief, grateful that no one will see him utterly fail at basketball, but he has to at least try. Honestly, Cyrus thought he’d just be able to ignore the comments. There aren’t many, nor are they usually stated cruel or outright, but Cyrus knows what they mean.

“Oh, this is your boyfriend! He doesn’t look like a sports guy.”

“Cyrus, good to see you again. We’d invite you to come, but we know you can’t do this kind of stuff.”

“You should really learn some more about sports since TJ is so interested in them.”

“Us basketball guys love to talk sports with each other all the time when we hang out. What do you two do?”

Cyrus knows that he isn’t the type of guy a person like TJ would normally go for. In fact, Cyrus has been doubting himself a lot more recently. Maybe it’s because of the comments, but what if the comments are right? What if it’s a good thing that he heard them? After all, TJ seems to try and urge him to do more sporty things a lot more now than he used to. What if TJ wants someone who can talk and play sports with him?

So today, when Cyrus’s was awake with his thoughts, hand running through TJ’s hair, he made up his mind. He needs to learn to play basketball because he can’t lose this. He can’t lose one of the best things to ever happen to him.

“Okay, I’m going to teach you how to shoot today,” TJ begins, pulling out a fully inflated basketball from his bag just like he said.

TJ bounces the ball a few times. Meanwhile, Cyrus watches in awe as he dribbles without thinking. Making sure Cyrus is watching, TJ shoots the ball from where he stands. Not only is it a far distance, but it goes in without even hitting the rim. A perfect shot, as Buffy once told him.

“How are you so good?” Cyrus asks genuinely.

“I’m really not that good,” TJ answers, rubbing the back of his neck. “Besides, anyone can get good with enough practice!”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

TJ smiles softly, picking up the ball from the spot it rolled to. He comes up to Cyrus, handing him the ball. Cyrus stares at it, trying to mimic TJ’s position. Of course, he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing. TJ reaches behind him to adjust his hand position and stance. At this spot on the court, the basket is pretty close, but Cyrus still doesn’t know if he has enough strength to make it.

“Use this arm to shoot. The other arm is just for support,” TJ explains.

Once TJ gets him in the correct position, he steps back so Cyrus can try shooting. Cyrus has never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He never realized just how complex shooting a single basket could be, yet all of these players can do it in seconds. Shakily, Cyrus shoots with all his strength, not really thinking about aim. He stumbles back after he throws it.

The basketball soars straight past the net. At least it was high enough. Cyrus looks over his shoulder worriedly at TJ, gnawing his lip. Luckily, TJ doesn’t look upset, he simply jogs after the stray ball and picks it up from the grass.

“That was good for your first try!” TJ says, handing the ball back to him. “Let me show you how to aim better, though.”

They spend the next half hour trying to get Cyrus to shoot a basket. Cyrus feels like a lost cause at one point. Although TJ is patient with him, Cyrus thinks he can even see TJ wearing thin with Cyrus missing shot after shot. Every time Cyrus fails, he feels more frustrated with himself. Soon, he’s just shooting randomly with all his strength, hoping that he can get it in the basket by pure chance.

“Maybe we should try again tomorrow,” TJ suggests.

Sweat beads across Cyrus’s brow. He reaches to wipe it off with the back of his hand. The anger that’s been building in him courses through his bloodstream. He shakes his head, snatching the ball out of TJ’s grasp.

“No, I have to do this,” Cyrus argues, getting in position once more to shoot the ball.

TJ sighs, stepping forward, “Cy, you’re exhausted, and it’s hot out. It’s alright, you’ll be better with a fresh head tomorrow.”

He reaches for the ball, but Cyrus jerks away.

“I need to do this today!” Cyrus shouts. “I have to get this right.”

“Please, Cyrus—”

So fueled by his anger, Cyrus rips the ball away from TJ again and throws it at the basket as hard as he can. In doing so, though, he ends up tripping over his own feet from the force. TJ tries to catch him but can’t grab him in time. Cyrus falls hard onto the court, elbows and knees skidding across the pavement and chin bumping the ground.

Stinging pain erupts after he falls. His tongue tastes like blood. He must have bitten it. His chin throbs, and his elbows and knees burn angrily.

“Oh my god!” TJ gasps, kneeling by his side. “Are you okay?”

With all of his emotions and now the pain, Cyrus becomes overwhelmed. Before he can help it, tears start dripping down his cheeks and landing on the court below.

“Come here,” TJ whispers comfortingly, tugging Cyrus up into a sitting position.

He wraps his arms around the crying boy and tucks him into his chest, careful to mind Cyrus’s injuries. Cyrus bunches his fists in the fabric of TJ’s shirt and cries softly. Meanwhile, TJ just holds him close and rocks him gently, one hand running up and down his back to help soothe him. On the pavement below them, he sees splotches of Cyrus’s blood.

“Hey, hey,” TJ shushes. “What’s wrong?”

Cyrus pulls back with a sniffle. “It’s stupid, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid! Please, just tell me. I know it’s not just your scrapes.”

Cyrus nods, going to stand up, but he winces and his knee buckles. TJ makes sure to catch him this time before he clips the pavement again. Shakily, Cyrus regains his balance. He glances down at his arms and legs. Both his knees and elbows are torn apart, blood slowly trickling from the wounds. His touches his chin; it isn’t bleeding, but he has a feeling there will be a mark.

“Let’s talk about this after we get you patched up, okay?” TJ confirms.

Although his wounds sting, Cyrus can walk to his house with not many issues. TJ hovers close behind just in case. When they finally make it back, TJ immediately pushes Cyrus down on the sofa while he goes to scavenge Cyrus’s house for a first aid kit. Of course, since it’s Cyrus, the first aid kit isn’t difficult to find. He rushes back downstairs with it and sits beside him.

“I need to clean them,” TJ says, taking Cyrus’s leg and putting it in his lap.

Then, he gingerly begins wiping at his scrapes with antibacterial wash. Cyrus jerks at the burning sensation.

“I’m sorry, but we have to make sure it doesn’t get infected,” TJ apologizes.

“It’s ok.”

After the worst part is over, TJ begins applying Neosporin and bandaging his wounds up. While he’s doing this, Cyrus stares vacantly at the wall.

“What’s going on?” TJ wonders. “I’m worried about you.”

Cyrus sighs. “I just…a few people at school have said some things, and it made me realize that I’m not sporty in the least bit. Like, you love basketball and other sports, but I can’t even understand what’s going on. Any type of physical activity I can’t even do, really. And I don’t know, it just made me feel guilty because you deserve to date someone who you can do that kind of stuff with since you like it.”

TJ frowns, scooting in closer to Cyrus’s side. He meets Cyrus’s eyes and reaches over to cup his face with one hand.

“Cyrus, I may like sports, but I also like you. I have plenty of people to talk sports stuff with. So many, in fact, that it can get annoying. Plus, I love doing other stuff with you, no matter what it is. We could just sit in complete silence and do our homework, and I’d like it because you’d be there. You don’t need to try and impress me by trying to be a pro basketball player. That’s not who you are, and that’s okay, because I like Cyrus Goodman for who he is.”

“Really?” Cyrus asks shyly, tilting his face downward.

TJ puts a finger under his chin to tilt it back up. “Really.”

Then, TJ brings him into a gentle kiss, lips brushing. Cyrus melts into the kiss, moving his arm to wrap around TJ’s back.

Maybe basketball isn’t meant for Cyrus, but TJ certainly is.

#tyrus #andi mack #tyrus fic #tyrus fanfic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst #tw blood #tw injury #fanfiction

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toria-lilith · 5 years

Text

Smoke and Roses - A Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fan fiction (Chapter eight)

A/N: Hey guys! I just had to publish a new chapter to celebrate the arrival of Ruby Sixx! I’m so happy for Nikki and Courtney! I really hope you all enjoy this, (fairly angsty), chapter!

Holland awoke the next morning in Nikki's arms with little memory of the night before. The throbbing pain behind her eyes hinted at a party, but she didn't remember drinking anything, let alone going to bed. She crawled out of bed, struggling to free herself from his vice like grip without waking him. He muttered something incoherent and she froze in the doorway but he didn't stir so she headed into the kitchen to find a pill that would stop her head spinning.

It looked as though she was the only one awake. The apartment must have been cleared of groupies and other party-goers during the night, because she was alone. She stepped over a broken bottle, careful not to slice her foot open on the glass, and started to search the cupboards.

There was some shuffling behind her and she turned, expecting to see one of the boys, but instead there was a girl, a little younger than Holland, and though she was pretty she looked shy and a little awkward. She was still dressed in what looked like last night's outfit and her face was streaked with makeup. She didn't look like one of Motley's usual hookups, but Holland wasn't going to judge her. She'd seen all kinds of girls come through the apartment. "I... Um..." the girl stumbled on her words, unsure of what to say to Holland, who was looking at her, bemused.

"Sit down," Holland said, "I'll make you a coffee."

She smiled weakly and sat behind the breakfast bar, watching Holland move around the kitchen. "What's your name?" Holland asked, setting down a cup of fresh coffee in front of the girl.

"Hedy."

"Ahh, like Hedy Lamarr."

"Exactly!" Hedy's face lit up.

"So what brings you to LA? You don't sound like you're from around here."

"I uh, I ran away from home," Hedy admitted with flushed cheeks, and it made sense to Holland. Most of the girls on the strip had exactly the same story. Nothing surprised her anymore. "I'm trying to start a new life." She paused to take a sip of coffee, and then asked, "are you Nikki's girlfriend?"

Holland bit her lip. "It's... complicated."

Hedy nodded understandingly. She looked back anxiously towards the bedrooms. "I left Tommy my number," she said, "do you think he'll call?"

Holland considered being truthful, but instead she forced a smile and said, "I'm sure he will."

Hedy giggled and shot Holland a bright smile. She drained her cup of coffee and then got up from the bar, "I should really go. I'm already late for work," she laughed brightly, "thanks for the coffee!"

Hedy climbed through the window, leaving Holland alone in the kitchen once again. She sighed, rinsing out the mug in the sink. "Poor girl," she muttered to herself. There was some more movement behind her and suddenly Tommy was at her side, reaching over her to take some cereal out of the top cupboard.

"Jeez, is she finally gone?" He said.

"She was sweet!"

"She was a psycho," he corrected her, "she told me she loved me, Holly."

"Well that's... intense." Holland laughed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and a couple of aspirin from the sideboard before making her way back to the bedroom. She sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake Nikki, but a pair of arms snaked around her waist and a face buried itself in her back.

"G'morning," Nikki mumbled, his voice muffled by her shirt.

"Hi, you," she said softly, "I brought you some aspirin."

Nikki slowly sat up, lowering his chin to Holland's shoulder. "You're a star."

"I know," she grinned. She took a small lock of Nikki's dark hair and twirled it around her finger. She wanted to ask him how he felt about her, but she was terrified she wouldn't like the answer. Nikki didn't strike her as the type of man who wanted a committed relationship. He seemed as though he wanted a girl he could do all the romantic things with, without calling it a relationship so he could fuck all the groupies he wanted to on the side. Holland felt like she was that girl, given she wasn't the groupie type.

"Listen, Holly," he said, suddenly serious as he sat up and looked her in the eye, "we have another show tonight at the Whiskey. Obviously, I would understand if you didn't want to come after what happened last night, but-"

"Nikki, I wouldn't miss it for anything. I'll be alright," she reassured him, "people like that can't scare me, and, besides, I've got you to take care of me." She added that last part with a grin.

"Mm, that's right," he flopped back against the bed, pulling Holland with him, "stay here?"

Holland giggled, "I can't Nikki, I'm sorry," she said, "I have a meeting with Doc today."

"That's boring," he insisted, pressing his face into her neck.

"Maybe, but someone needs some decent press before this tour with Ozzy." She reminded him. She sat up, pressing a light kiss to his temple before getting up. "I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"I'll be waiting."

Holland changed quickly, unbothered by Nikki's eyes following her every move. She combed her hair, securing it in a top knot, and then left him in the bedroom to meet Doc at a local diner.

The meeting with Doc was slow, particularly when coupled with the hangover she was doing her best to conceal. If Doc knew she'd come to a meeting hungover, she'd never hear the end of it. By the end of it though, she'd scheduled three interviews for the band when the tour started, and arranged a merchandise deal for a new line of Motley Crue T-Shirts. Not bad for a girl with a hangover!

When Doc drove her back to the apartment, something felt... off. She couldn't explain it. It was like the air was thick and heavy with tension, and when she climbed through the window into the living room, the boys, (minus Nikki), looked mortified to see her back an hour earlier than scheduled. Vince was the first to jump up and rush to her. "Holland!" He said, feigning excitement. Holland saw right through his act.

"What's going on?" She asked, a little disturbed by their false joy.

"Holly, why don't we take a walk, hm?" Vince suggested, ignoring her question, "I'll treat you to lunch!"

"I just ate lunch. Why are you all being so weird?" She shrugged Vince off and stepped past him to go towards her bedroom. "Where's Nikki anyway? Is he seriously still in bed?"

"You really don't want to go in there," Vince said desperately as a final attempt to stop her. Holland rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him, pushing open the door to the bedroom. Immediately she wished she hadn't. Nikki was balls deep in a groupie, his back to the door. When he heard the door open he glanced back over his shoulder to chastise whoever had interrupted but when he saw Holland, his face fell. She staggered backwards away from the room, pulling the door closed. Nikki appeared seconds later, hastily buttoning up his trousers while the girl covered herself with the blanket.

"Holly, I-" He started, but she cut him off.

"D-Don't," she said, her voice wavering as she fought tears, "please, i-it's fine. I'm not angry. Why would I be? I mean, we're not even together, right? You knock yourself out."

"Holland-"

"It's fine!" Her voice became more shrill the harder she tried to suppress a sob. Nikki looked uncomfortably between Holland and the groupie, and then, wordlessly went back into the room, closing the door. Vince appeared at her side, pulling her into his arms and letting her cry into his shoulder. "I-I thought I meant something to him."

"I'm sorry, Holly," Vince sighed, "I tried to stop him bringing her here. I know how much he means to you."

"I just... I thought he liked me. I really did. But he was using me just like everyone else!"

"He's an asshole, I know," Vince said softly. "Come on, I'll get you a drink."

Holland let him lead her to the armchair, which she slumped into, and she waited patiently while he fixed her a glass of scotch, which she threw back without thinking too much about it. "You okay?" Tommy asked.

She shrugged, wrapping her hands around the small glass. She wasn't, but truthfully, she felt like a fucking idiot. She'd come to do a job, and fallen for the biggest asshole in LA. She swallowed hard and forced a smile. "I'm fine," she said, trying to convince herself as much as she was the others. She wasn't going to let her heart get in the way of her work anymore and from then on, her relationship with Motley Crue was purely professional. Or at least, that's what she thought.

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asofterfan · 6 years

Text

Winter Winds

Chapter 1: Hot Mess

Previous ~ Next

Summary: Six years later...

Warnings: alcoholism, transphobia, enbyphobia, nbphobia, self esteem issues

No matter what ringtone they chose for their alarm, Remy would always hate it within two days.

Blindly reaching out to turn off the tortuous chimes that indicated it was time to wake the fuck up, Remy sighed heavily. Sitting up, they were faced with the familiar pounding in their skull. The glass next to their mattress was empty, so either they’d have to get up to get water, or not get water. They flopped back onto the mattress.

But within a few minutes their second alarm was chiming, drawing out a long groan as they slapped at their phone again. Fine. Time to get up apparently.

Remy sat up and stretched, scratching at the leftover body glitter on their shoulder from the night before. As they stood they gently kicked a few empty bottles out of their way.

The apartment looked different, but in reality it hadn’t changed much in the past six years. The same mattress sat in the same corner, the same old crate as a side table, the same thrift store rug and old loveseat. They never bothered to get a dresser when their suitcase worked just fine, and there were a few boxes that they had never bothered to fully unpack. Their life was layered on top in the form of posters and ticket stubs and Christmas lights and trash shoved into corners. Sketchbooks lay piled in a corner, and dirty clothes were shoved into a laundry bag, ready for whenever they worked up the motivation to go to the laundromat.

Opening a cabinet in the kitchen, Remy grabbed one of three glasses they owned, filling it with tap water and chugging it. Leaning against the kitchen counter, they fiddled with the ends of their hair. It was mid-back, the pink underside slightly faded. They’d have to re-dye it soon. The ends were dry, and split, but Remy was confident they were hot enough that no one paid attention to their neglected hair.

A third alarm started ringing from their phone. What a bitch. Groaning, Remy stalked over to their bed, snatching their phone and silencing the alarm, quickly going through and turning off all the upcoming alarms as well. They awake enough, they didn’t need an alarm every five minutes today.

Quickly swiping through their phone, Remy hit shuffle on itunes, turning the volume all the way up before tossing it on the couch. The mirror above the bathroom sink showed them the smudged remains of their makeup from the night before. Sighing, they got to work washing it off, nodding their head to the beat of the music.

Once that was finished, they halfheartedly brushed their hair before throwing it into a ponytail, and brushed their teeth. Picking up the mouthwash, they found it was empty, groaning in frustration as they remembered using the last of it the morning before. Rubbing at their eyes, still tired, Remy wandered back into the kitchen, only to return to the bathroom a moment later with a bottle of vodka. Same thing, right? Taking a swig straight from the bottle, Remy swished it around in their mouth, grimacing before spitting it into the sink. Good enough.

Remy was pretty sure they didn’t own any clothing that didn’t have holes in it, or was too small, or both, but there were still a few shirts in the ‘clean’ pile so at least they didn’t have to worry about laundry just yet. Cass once told them their style was “homeless punk”, which like…. Rude, but not inaccurate.

Pulling on their tattered boots, held together by duck tape and spite, Remy finally turned off their music. Their leather jacket was hanging next to the door, and as they slipped it on they made sure they had all the essentials- wallet, keys, phone, sunglasses, headphones, and pronoun necklace with the charm flipped to “THEY/THEM”.

Checking the time, they knew they’d have to skip their Starbucks run if they wanted to be on time to work. Luckily, Remy didn’t give a fuck about being on time.

Caffeine before capitalism, bitches.

“What is UP motherfuckers I am so tired.”

“You’re also late,” a tall woman, only slightly shorter than Remy, with light blue hair crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Oh come on, Ali,” A petite brunette piped in from where she was disinfecting her station, “You say that like he’s not late everyday!”

“They’re not late everyday, Cass” Remy insisted, tapping at their necklace as they sauntered over to their own station beside the shorter woman’s, “Some days I’m not scheduled,” they winked.

“Sleeeeeeeep,” Ali sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and drawing the artist’s attention again. “I get that being late is like, your trademark, but what kind of boss would I be if I just kept letting you get away with it?”

“A great one,” Remy replied without hesitation. Putting their stuff down, Remy took a long sip of coffee before continuing, “Ali, I know you’ve been stressed since you officially took over for Rachel-”

“Rest in peace,” Cass interrupted solemnly.

“Stop telling people I’m dead!” Huffing indignantly, a heavily pregnant woman appeared in the lobby, carrying a box full of beat up sketchbooks.

“Rache!” Remy exclaimed, “Tell Ali I can do whatever I want!”

“You most certainly can NOT,” Rachel asserted, moving to brace the box on her hip as she stared down her former employees, “Remy, try to bring your asshole level down to maybe 75 percent. Ali, somehow Remy has managed to keep a good string of clientele and positive reviews. Pick your battles. Cass, stop sending my wife ‘your condolences’.”

“Fiiiiiiine.”

“If you say so.”

“Killjoy.”

Rachel shook her head fondly, “Don’t destroy my shop, bitches. I’ll be back eventually.” With that, she headed to her car, leaving the others grumbling behind her. The day continued, each going about their own business, working on designs for upcoming clients, answering emails about appointments. Remy’s phone buzzed beside them, but they ignored it.

About two hours later, a man looking to be in his mid thirties with a few tattoos on his arms already came in without an appointment.

“You guys take walk ins?” He asked gruffly.

“Yeah, what were you looking to get?”

Remy sighed from their station. Brett and Rafa weren’t scheduled to come in for another hour, and Cass was in the middle of a tattoo, which meant the walk in was definitely going to be Remy’s problem.

Sure enough, Ali called them over, “Remy, I got a client for you.”

Plastering on their best customer service smile, Remy sauntered over, “Excellent, what do I have the honor of immortalizing today?”

Dear God, the man was unironically getting a Fight Club quote tattooed on his forearm. Remy almost quit then and there. Ali glared, shaking her head minutely from behind the man, her eyes promising pain if Remy was anything less than cordial. Killjoy.

Gritting their teeth, Remy smiled, “Alright, come take a look at some fonts and I’ll get you set up.”

Remy wasn’t sure if the barely legible cursive font the man chose made the quote better or worse. They decided not to dwell on it. It didn’t take long to print the transfer and get their station set up, adjusting the seat in the center for a right forearm tattoo session. The client was mostly silent as Remy lightly shaved his forearm and wiped the disinfectant over it. Once the transfer the placed, the man nodded, offering a gruff “looks good”.

“Sweet, just hold tight for one more sec, hon.”

Swiveling their stool to face the steel table beside them, Remy got to work setting up their ink, along with paper towels and bottles of water and disinfectant; gauze set to the side for when they were finished.

As they worked, the man looked Remy up and down, “So, what are you?” he asked bluntly.

It hadn’t been loud before, but an uncomfortable silence seemed to settle on the whole shop, Ali glancing over from the front desk in disbelief. But Remy was unfazed. They looked up from their equipment and raised an eyebrow, “I'm a tattoo artist, duh.”

The man rolled his eyes condescendingly, “I mean, are you a man or a woman?”

Clenching their teeth, Remy took a deep breath, “Depends on the day, but today the answer is no,” they tapped on their necklace, the purple charm with a clear “THEY/THEM” on it.

“But what are you really?”

There was a pause, the tension thick as even Cass paused her work to look over incredulously. Remy wasn’t known for their patience though. They sent the man a cold smile, leaning forward to get just a little too close, “I'm the person who's about to spend the next hour injecting ink under your skin. Really.”

Stuttering, the man’s face turned a shade of red, from anger or embarrassment Remy couldn't tell, “Are you threatening me??”

“Of course not,” Remy purred, “That would be unprofessional. But maybe you should be quiet now. So I don't… lose focus.” They buzzed the tattoo gun on and off menacingly. Some of the blood drained from the man’s face. He still looked angry, like he had a lot he wanted to say very loudly right now. But he bit the words back and nodded shortly, Remy grinning wider.

“Good boy,” the man flinched as Remy placed a hand gently on his arm, situating themselves to begin working, “Now, let’s get this party started, shall we?” There is no response. Just the buzz of the tattoo gun as Remy did their job, even when they didn’t want to.

“Well,” Cass drawled as the door closed behind Remy’s client, “he’s not gonna be leaving any shining reviews.”

“Worth it~,” Remy sang cheerily. Hey, they did the tattoo and they did it well. It was the man’s own fault he got a side of attitude and malice with his tattoo.

Cass rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the design she was working on in her sketchbook. But Ali frowned, coming to stand by the opening to Remy’s cubical. She spoke softly, her words just for Remy, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he’d be a dick.”

“That’s life, hon,” Remy smirked. Ali didn’t know anyone else who could sound so cheery and so cold at the same time, “Assholes look like everyone else. They don’t wear signs. That’s why it’s best to just assume everyone is terrible until proven otherwise.”

“Well that’s a depressing way to live.”

Remy shrugged, “It’s worked well enough for me.”

Ali isn’t sure she actually believes that, but Remy turns their back to her, continuing to break down their station, everything about them communicating that the conversation was over.

There was a buzz from Remy’s phone. They ignored it.

“Remy, tell Logan he’s overreacting!”

“FALSEHOOD!”

“You’re not helping your case there, sexy specs.”

Remy turned away from their computer, resting their chin on their hand as they took in the two bickering teenagers who had just arrived.

Virgil cut off Logan’s argument, still glaring at him even as he spoke to Remy, “Look, let me explain, Logan’s all in a huff just cause-”

“Nope,” Remy interrupted, holding a hand up with an expressionless gaze, “Don’t wanna hear it. I do not need unnecessary details in order to know with absolute certainty that you,” he pointed at Logan, “are overreacting-”

“HAH!”

“-and you,” Virgil’s victory was short lived as Remy’s finger shifted to point at him, “are underreacting.”

Virgil gasped indignantly as Logan started an angry “how DARE you-” rant. Remy sipped their tea and slowly swiveled their chair around until the teens were left arguing with their back. After a few minutes, Ali finally intervened and at least got them to argue more quietly until they finally let whateverthefuck they were going on about go and finally turned their attention back to Remy.

“Any new projects?” Virgil questioned as Logan draped himself across the tattoo chair in the center of Remy’s cubicle.

Remy hummed, “Not really. But I have a few consultations coming up, so maybe soon,” they tapped away at their computer, answering emails to confirm appointments and give price estimates.

Groaning, Virgil pouted, “So nothing for me?”

“Not today, gurl.”

“Uuuuuuuuugh…” he flopped dramatically on top of Logan, “now what?”

“I dunno,” Remy turned to raise an eyebrow at the pile of punks on his chair, “you’re teenage troublemakers. Go make trouble. Somewhere. Else.”

“Meh,” Logan replied, “We’ll just do homework here. We haven’t seen you in like a week.”

“Lucky you,” Remy replied without missing a beat.

“Remy nooooo,” Brett glanced up from the front desk, wide puppy eyes staring at the taller artist.

Cass’ voice was heard from the other side of the divider, “Aw great, now you’ve gone and summoned one of Brett’s positivity rants!”

“Why does no one follow the shop guidelines?” Brett asked, lip trembling as he held up the framed sign that lived on the front desk and pointed to item number four: “No Self Deprecation Allowed”

“It’s cute you think I follow rules.”

Remy continued going through their email, occasionally making notes in their calendar or sketchbook, ignoring Brett’s lecture or the giggling high schoolers behind them.

Things quieted down eventually, with the punks doing some homework assignments while the artists did their work. Remy waved casually when Logan and Virgil finally departed. Rafa emerged from the staff break room, sipping a soda and smiling as the door shut behind the high schoolers.

“Damn. Those kids really like you, Rems,” he commented fondly.

But Remy only shrugged, sipping their tea nonchalantly, “I was in the right place at the right time and they imprinted on me like baby ducklings.”

“Punklings,” Cass’ giggled from her station.

Remy snorted, but turned back to Rafa, “If you had been working that day then they’d be your ‘best friends’.”

Rafa exchanged a look with Brett before shaking his head sadly, “Eh. Agree to disagree.”

Despite Remy constantly being late, they also had a tendency of staying late as well. Once they got caught up in a project they were loath to leave until it was finished. Plus, if they stayed late enough they could go straight from work to one of their favorite clubs.

As the artists finished closing up the shop, Remy sighed as their phone buzzed again. Reluctantly, they pulled the device from their pocket to glance at the messages. There were two missed calls and a text.

PopPicani: Hey kiddo! Sorry I keep missing you. You want to come over for dinner tomorrow? It’s been way too long! <3

“We’re grabbing some drinks from The Dubliner, you wanna come?”

Remy blinked in surprise as they were pulled from their thoughts. They weren’t sure why the group still asked. Every time their coworkers went out they invited Remy, and every time Remy answered the same way.

“Nah, I’m doing my own thing,” They adjusted their bag on their shoulder as they exited the building, raising a hand in farewell, “See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget, you have a consultation appointment in the morning!” Ali called after them, “10:30am! Don’t make them wait!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy responded nonchalantly, tapping away at their phone.

Sleepyhead: Sorry, been super busy lately. Maybe another time though. :)

Pocketing the device, Remy pulled their sunglasses over their eyes, making their way into the nightlife. Alone as usual.

Just the way they liked it.

#punk au #my writing #winter winds #punk sleep #transphobia tw #transphobia #enbyphobia #nbphobia #exorsexism

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paradisobound · 6 years

Text

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 13

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 3.5k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing and mentions of sex

Rating: Explicit

Updates will be every Sunday at 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3**

A/N: Surprise! i had this chapter done so I decided to post it anyway :) don't get used to having the same upload schedule though if I do in fact have chapters done. This is just because this chapter is 3.4k and i think it's the best I've written so far so I'm eager to see you guys read it!

Dan’s name popped up on Phil’s phone under a feeling of vibrations. Phil found himself holding his breath, willing his stomach to unknot and the feeling of guilt to leave. He shut his eyes briefly and attempted to run his hands through his slightly sweaty hair to hide what just happened. Unfortunately, the blush in his cheeks was going to last a while.

He unlocked his phone and answered Dan’s Facetime request. On the screen, Dan’s face popped up and he was in a dimly lit room with a rack of clothing behind where he was sat. Phil assumed he was still on set.

“It was so awful, Phil!” Dan whined, his voice childlike. “The director wanted us to do all this crazy shit and God, it’s going to look so fake. I can tell already. And I wasn’t into. Mimei wasn’t into it. It was just awkward.”

“I’m sorry.” Phil says, biting his lip. He genuinely was sorry. He still couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be forced into a scene like that. He assumed that Dan still had a bit of say in the matter but at the same time, he doubted that.

Dan let out a sigh. “I have to go back on set for another scene in fifteen minutes but I really needed to―why are your cheeks flushed? Did you just go for a run or something?”

Phil felt his cheeks flush even redder as blood rushed to his face. “Oh…uh…No. Just kind of warm in my flat tonight.”

Dan cocked his eyebrow and gave a smirk before he let out a breath along with a chuckle. “Okay mate.” Dan says, dragging out the words, laughing a little himself.

Phil was thoroughly embarrassed now.

“Ya know,” Dan continues. “If you were in the middle of a wank, I could have called tonight after I got home.”

“Oh no!” Phil says, quickly trying to divert the topic. “No! It wasn’t that.”

Dan smirked at him again. “Sure, mate.” He lets out a sigh. “I have such a busy week ahead of me. I’m not looking forward to it.”

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” Dan says, looking down at his lap before bringing his attention back up to the screen. “Tomorrow, I have a cover shoot for People magazine followed by an interview for an article that they’re writing on me to do with my movie. And then the rest of this week, I have a mix of public appearances I have to make. One of them is actually that I’m cutting the ribbon at this new theater in downtown LA near WEHO. And then Friday, I have to attend a premiere for another movie that I was invited to and my manager booked me for. All the rest of the time, I’m filming the rest of the movie.”

Phil listens with intent to everything Dan says and he finds it all a bit overwhelming. Especially considering that Phil is just going to be going to work, eating, playing with Spike, and repeating the process for the foreseeable future. He never had anything as exciting as Dan always had going on.

But in a way, he didn’t envy Dan for that. In fact, he felt bad.

“Oh!” Dan says with a sudden thought. “And then this weekend, I’m attending a party that is being held by Kylie Jenner.”

Phil feels his body stiffen. “Kylie Jenner?!” He finds himself exclaiming.

Dan nods. “Yep! She’s hosting a party for her new collection of make up that has to do with ‘saving world hunger’ or some ploy like that and I was invited by her PR team because apparently I would be good PR to have at the party? I don’t fucking know. So I’m attending. Maybe I’ll get a Kanye autograph while I’m there.”

“Where is it going to be?” Phil asks. “Surely, it’s not at her home, right?”

Dan shrugs. “No idea actually. I’ll probably just walk in, sip some champagne and have a few cocktails, take a couple of photos, and then peace out for the evening. Those events aren’t really my thing.”

“That sounds exhausting.” Phil says. “I can’t imagine having to be around that many people and having to talk with them and take a bunch of photographs.”

“Not your type of thing either?” Dan asks, relaxing back in his chair. It creaks and Phil watches Dan’s eyes widen as he quickly looks down at the sides of the chair. Phil chuckled to himself because it sounded like the chair was in pretty bad quality. Probably some cheap plastic seat with a vinyl or canvas fabric to sit on.

Phil shook his head. “No. I’m not the most social person.”

“Me either.” Dan says. “Which I know is ironic but…” He shrugs.

“Are you an introvert?” Phil asks. He actually does want to know.

“Yep.” Dan says with a smile. “Are you?”

“Oh totally.”

“Oh good.” Dan says with a knowing glance. “I was ready to say we can’t be friends if you were an extrovert.”

Phil lets out a laugh and Dan follows suit.

But then a loud voice cuts through the laughing to Dan, saying “five minutes before you’re needed on set.” Dan gives him an apologetic glance and tells Phil that he’ll talk to him later.

Phil doesn’t promise that he’ll be awake to answer but he does hope he will be. He wishes Dan better luck on his shoot and then they hang up and Phil is left alone again in his bedroom.

He throws his phone to the side and then stands up from his bed. He walks over to the door and opens it, letting in Spike who was sitting on the other side waiting, his stubby tail wagging back in forth. With the allowance back into the room, Spike runs to the bed and hops on and burrows onto Phil’s pillow, resting his head.

Phil leaves the room and goes to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. He walks in and slips his pants off into a pile on the floor. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and takes the off as well, throwing that along with his pants onto the floor. He bends down and turns the water of his shower on and lets the droplets from the faucet run over his fingers. When it’s a suitable temperature, turns on his shower and steps inside, pulling the curtain back.

He stands under the warm mist and washes all of the sweat and dirt from his skin. There are also some particularly stickier areas as well but he takes his time washing all of those away.

He quickly washes his body and then grabs for his shampoo and wets his hair under the water. He pushes it back before the water can drip down his face and he squirts the shampoo into his palm before running it through his hair and lathering it.

He’s rinsing his hair out, his eyes still closed to avoid getting the shampoo into them. When he knows it’s rinsed out, he steps out of the mist and shakes his head a little, wiping his face off with a damp washcloth that was hanging from the side bar of his tub.

He opens his eyes slowly and realizes that there is a shampoo in his shower that he’s never seen before. He bends over and picks up the bright orange bottle and reads it over. “Curl protectant shampoo for men.” He laughs to himself. For men. How absurd is that? He uses whatever shampoo has the most pleasing scent.

It’s half used and he opens it, gagging a little at the strong scent that comes out it. But he leans back down and takes another sniff. It’s Dan. That scent is Dan. It’s so familiar.

He feels a bit sad now, a pit forming in his stomach. He shouldn’t feel this way about a half used shampoo bottle that Dan must have left behind. He’s never noticed it before in the shower, but most of the time, when he showers, he doesn’t have his contacts in so he blindly grabs for his shampoo and body wash, recognizing the different sized bottles.

He sets it back down on the edge of the tub and then turns around, turning off the shower as the water begins to run cool against his skin. He pulls back the curtain and steps out, grabbing a towel from the rack and pushing it up to his face to wipe of the water on his skin.

He grabs the rest of his towels and finishes drying himself off before wrapping them around his body like he always does. He makes a pit stop at the sink and removes his contacts, putting them in the pot before setting them back on the sink. He stumbles blindly from his bathroom, grabbing his dirty clothes on the way, and makes it to his bedroom where he grabs for his glasses on the night stand and puts them on.

Spike is still sitting on his bed, watching him as he moves around the room and slowly dresses into a new set of pajamas and pants. Once he’s settled into his emoji pajamas and a black shirt, he flops onto his bed and picks up his phone. He has a couple missed messages.

One from PJ and two from his mum.

He looks at the one from PJ first which is just saying “drinks tonight? My treat.”

He looks at the time. It’s a little after 6pm. He could probably do for a drink or two. Not even to get drunk but a couple to ease his mind. He texts back PJ asking for when and where and then opens the texts from his mum.

Mum: are you doing anything this weekend, hun?

Mum: your father and I would like to see you.

He lets out a sigh and then opens his calendar. He doesn’t have to work this weekend―thank god, but he’s not sure if he can find a way to get to the Isle of Man on such short notice. He’d love to see his parents but he doesn’t think it’ll be plausible.

In the time of him going online and looking up flights, he gets a message from PJ telling him to meet him at this pub near his flat at 7:30. He has time so he goes back on Safari and ends up finding a flight that leaves near 6am this Saturday and then he found a return flight for 8pm on Sunday back to London. He could do that.

He books the flights and then takes a screenshot of the confirmations and sends them to his mum. As soon as the messages are sent, his mum calls him and he answers.

“Child!” She chimes through the speaker.

“Mum!”

“You found flights alright?” She asked. “Your father and I weren’t sure if you were going to find any on such short notice.”

“Isle of Man isn’t exactly a hot spot.” Phil says with a chuckle. “I normally can find flights pretty quickly.”

“You’ll have to tell us about Dan when you get here!” She says, wasting no time in bringing him up. “Your father and I have a lot of questions.”

Phil let’s out a sigh. ‘There isn’t much to say, mum.”

“Dear, your father and I have watched Dan in movies before. We have a lot of questions about how you two even met.” She says, her voice soft. “Plus, he’s a nice-looking boy.”

“Mum…” He groans, feeling his body cave inward from the secondhand embarrassment.

“Oh hun, you know it’s true.” She says with a laugh. “And I also happen to know that he’s your type.”

“I don’t have a type.” Phil corrects.

“I don’t know about that.” His mum continues. “Your last boyfriend―Jonah? Was it?”

“Joshua.”

“Joshua! Yes, him! He was tall with curly brown hair and he had brown eyes too.”

‘That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay, Phil.” She says and Phil rolls his eyes. “We’ll pick you up from the airport as usual on Saturday. You should visit more often!”

“I don’t have a lot of time anymore.” Phil says because it’s true. He really doesn’t have a lot of time anymore between going to work and being busy with work. And he also does have a social life sometimes. Not often, but he does when he goes out with PJ. Like he’s going to tonight.

“Well make time, child!” She pips up. “We miss you!”

“I miss you too, mum.”

He can tell she’s smiling on the other side. “Well, I’ll let you go. But do call a bit more. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

He says a quick goodbye to her and then they hang up.

He gets up from bed and begins to get ready for the pub when his phone vibrates against the bed. He’s ready to roll his eyes again, sure that it’s his mum texting him goodnight or something. But instead, it’s from Dan.

He quickly grabs his phone and opens the message. A photo pops up and it’s one from Dan, a selfie in a mirror. He’s dressed in a suit and his hair is perfectly groomed. His eyes are slightly squinted but his body language is poised and just…well, Phil can’t help but feel butterflies when he looks at the photo.

Yeah, he’s fucked.

***

Phil’s one raspberry beer down at the pub and PJ and him are laughing over some dumb thing that they remembered from work that happened nearly two years before. Phil’s not even sure how they got on the subject of this, but he finds himself laughing so hard his sides hurt.

“And then Gemma’s face was priceless!” PJ continues, his laugh carrying through the loud atmosphere and Phil is following suit. He picks up his bottle and finishes the rest of the beer before he stands up.

“Want another one?” Phil asks, pointing to PJ’s empty pint on the table.

PJ shakes his head. “I said the drinks were on me tonight!” He stands up and grabs the pint and the bottle. “I’ll go grab us a few drinks. What would you like?”

“Surprise me.” Phil says, climbing back onto the stool and sitting down.

Dan hadn’t been able to text him much but Phil did find himself replying back to Dan’s photo with a smiley face. He doesn’t know why that is what he sent but he did and he can’t take it back. And he also doesn’t want to take it back because Dan sent back a blushing emoji.

He still hasn’t been on Twitter or Instagram or YouTube and that’s okay because he doesn’t want to read everything that he knows is going to be on there. He wants to remain a happy medium in this entire situation.

Which reminds him, he’s going to need to go on his YouTube eventually because he’ll need to make another video soon. What should he even do for this new video? Maybe a Q+A? That might be fun? But then that is going to require him to go on Twitter.

“I got you another beer.” PJ says, setting a pint down on the table of some pale drink. “It sounded like one you might like.”

Phil lifts up and eyebrow and picks it up, taking a quick sip. He doesn’t particularly like beer but he’ll drink this since PJ bought it and he’ll feel bad not finishing it.

“So, what’s the gossip about Dan?” PJ asks, taking a long sip of…that looks like Guinness but Phil’s not sure.

“What gossip?” Phil asks, genuinely confused.

“What’s he like!” PJ asks. “I want to know what the famous guy is like to be around.”

Phil shrugged. “He’s like a normal guy?” Phil says. “I mean, he’s fun and he’s loud. But he also is super understanding and he always is really easy to talk to which you know how awkward I am. But it’s not hard to build a friendship with him.”

“When are you going to ask him out?” PJ asks, taking a long swig of his drink.

Phil follows and takes a sip, wincing a bit at the bitterness. Yeah, this beer is definitely not his thing. “I don’t even know if I will.”

“You two seem right fond of each other.” PJ says. “That video was the definition of sexual tension.”

Phil scoffs. “I doubt that.”

PJ shook his head. “No mate. That video…if no one knew who you were, they would have sworn that you were Dan’s boyfriend. I mean, he was looking at you up and down every second.”

Phil felt his face flush. “I’m sure he doesn’t find me attractive.” He says. “And besides, we’re just friends.”

PJ frowns. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Undermine yourself like that.” PJ says.

Phil looks down at his drink. “It’s true though.” He says. “There is a reason why guys don’t want to date me after a year.”

“You just haven’t found the good guys.” PJ presses.

Phil shrugs. “No one wants to date me, PJ.” He says. “They just want me to put out for them so they can get off and then they want to leave.”

“Once again,” PJ continues. “You’re not finding the right guys.” PJ pauses. “I think Dan looks at you differently than I’ve ever seen a guy look at you.”

Phil shakes his head.

“No!” PJ adds. “Dan is into you, Phil.” He reaches out and lays a hand on Phil’s arm. “Drop some hints at him. I guarantee that he’s into you.”

“How would I even do that?” Phil asks, giving in a little bit. “I don’t know how to flirt. I’m not even sure where to begin. My last boyfriend messaged me over Twitter in my Dm’s.”

“Just say things to him that might come off as flirty. Tell him you like his shirt or maybe you’d like to see it off.”

“Peej!”

“I’m being serious, Phil! Maybe send him more photos. Send him a selfie and see if he’ll send one back. Hell, send him a picture of your dick and see if he’ll one back.”

“I’m not doing that, PJ!” Phil exclaimed, his voice drowned out, thankfully, by the loud murmurs. “For one, I think that counts as sexual harassment on paper.”

PJ rolls his eyes. “Well, then just talk with him and get a little bit flirtier. Tell him he has great eyes and that you want to get lost in them. Tell him he has a great body and you want to get lost in it.”

Phil scoffs and feels his face flush―and it’s not from the alcohol or the warm room. “I don’t know.”

“Just try it!” PJ presses. “Get out your phone and send him a text.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now!”

“This is ridiculous and stupid.” Phil says as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He sets it on the table and PJ gestures to it.

“Send Dan a text. Just send him something short. Maybe like a “I miss you” or “Can’t wait to see you again”. Just start simple.”

Phil bites his lip and opens up his phone, clicking on the messages app and opening up Dan’s messages. “What was the last thing he sent you?” PJ asks.

“A selfie.” Phil says, looking down at the photo.

“Okay, what did you say to him about it?”

“This feels like an interrogation.” Phil counters.

“Well, do you want to get laid or not?” Pj asks and Phil lets out a breath. He picks up his beer and takes a long sip. He’s going to need it.

“I just sent him an emoji.”

“OH PHIL!” PJ cried. “What emoji did you send? Please tell me it was the eggplant.”

Phil coughed and blushed. “It was just a smiley emoji.”

PJ cried out again and reached for Phil’s phone, snatching it from his hands. “What are you doing?” Phil protested, reaching for it. But PJ’s fingers were too fast and he was typing and all Phil could do was wait.

PJ handed his phone back to him and Phil takes another swig of his beer before grabbing it. He reads it over and feels the color drain from his face.

Phil: I forgot to tell you this earlier but I think you look amazing.

“PJ he’s going to think I’m weird!” Phil whines. “This is too much!”

“No, it won’t be.” PJ said. “Just wait and see.”

No messages come as Phil finishes his beer and PJ finishes his. Neither one of them want another drink so they both leave, completely sober still and head back to their flats.

Phil gets into his flat at a little after 10 and greets Spike with a little rub down and then a chance to go to the courtyard for the bathroom. When he lets Spike back in, he goes to the bathroom himself and gets ready for bed.

He goes to his bedroom and climbs into bed, knowing he has to be up early to go to work tomorrow. He grabs his phone and goes to plug it in when he sees a message from Dan that stops his heart.

Dan: thank you <3 but I think its you that looks amazing not me

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #au #famous!dan #moviestar!dan #normal!phil #princesslexi763fics

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 5 years

Text

New Beginnings Part 2

Fandom: Love/Hate

Pairing: Darren Treacy x Female Reader

Characters: Darren Treacy, Reader, OC

Word Count: 2623

Warning: Some swears, reference to past violence, nightmares, and discussions of violence

Summary: It’s been years since the Incident. Years since you moved out of Dublin and started a new life. Years since you last saw your childhood best friend Darren Treacy. One day that all changes and the two of you find each other again. Darren claims he’s done with his old life, but will it really be that simple?

Author’s Note: So here’s Part 2! Thank you to those who read it and liked it!

Part 1

It was a slow week of work and studying, but having Darren back made it all seem less mundane. You didn't get a chance to see him again, between your schedule and his, there had simply been no time. But you'd been able to text still, and that was enough to keep you going. You learned that Darren had gotten work in a factory making small parts and the such. He found it dull, but it was honest work and kept him out of trouble. You were proud of him, he'd only been out of Dublin a few months and he was doing well for himself.

Apart from his sleeping arrangements. Those you weren't happy with. What money he'd had he'd given to Mary, which left next to none for a deposit on a flat for himself. So he'd been crashing on the couch of someone looking for a little extra cash. Far from ideal, especially when they kept him up most of the night with their parties. You didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much you could do about it either. You didn’t have the money to rent your own place, let alone help Darren out, and after everything, your mother would not want him in the spare room.

It wasn’t until you saw him again, when you met outside the church, that you decided to say screw it to anything else and get him out of there. The bags under Darren’s eyes looked painful; it was obvious he’d barely gotten a wink of sleep since the previous Wednesday, and your heart broke for him. He was never going to get himself straight if he didn’t have peace to at least try and sleep.

You waited until the group was done, and you’d managed to get Darren into a small cafe for something to eat. “I’m gonna talk Ma into letting you have the box room,” you said once you were both halfway through your burger and chips

Darren paused, ketchup covered chip halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“You can’t be stayin’ where you’re at, and we have the spare room, so why not?”

“There’s no way she’s gonna say yes, Y/N, not after what happened.”

“She will once I talk to her! Once I explain everything, that you’re out of all that business, she’ll come around. Trust me, yeah? When have I ever been wrong?”

“In fairness, you did believe you could get pregnant from holding hands for a solid year.” Darren laughed, quickly bringing his arms up to block the chip you flung at him.

“I was eight!” You laughed too, waiting for him to lower his guard before chucking another, this one finding its goal that was Darren’s face.

“Still wrong!” Darren winked, plucking the food from where it had landed on his shoulder and munching it with a shit eating grin. The smile softened after a few moments into something more genuine. “But thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“Anything for a friend,” you smiled back, taking a bite of your burger. Now you just had to hope that convincing her would be as easy as you made it out to be.

“Are you out of your damned mind, Y/N!? That criminal, under my roof? You’re jokin’!”

“He’s done with all that now, Ma! He’s trying to get himself sorted and he can’t do that where is right now!” You argued back against your mother, leaning against the kitchen counter while she glared at you from the table.

“I don’t bloody well care! After what he did he can sleep in a bus stop!”

“He was a stupid kid back then! He deserves a second chance!”

“A second chance!? Don’t you remember the last time you give a man a second chance?”

You flinched at that and took a moment to turn away and take a breath. “It’s not like that with Darren. We aren’t together, I just want to help a friend!”

“A friend who’s a criminal!”

“Was. Was a criminal, Ma. There was a time when you liked him, you know,” you said turning back to face her.

“That was before he got involved with Power and his lot.”

“And he shouldn't have, I’ll admit that. Now he just wants to put it all behind him and make amends.”

She looked at you for a long moment. “Does he at least have a job?”

“Yeah, at a factory downtown. So he can pay rent.”

She pinched her nose and let out a sigh, still not looking entirely convinced. “One shot, and that’s it. If he as so much as steals a piece of gum, he’s out, I swear.”

“He won’t, I promise.” You crossed the kitchen to the table, bending down to hug her and kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Ma.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go tell him to get his things over here before I change my mind.”

“Thank you for lettin’ me stay, Mrs. Y/L/N. I appreciate it.” Darren spoke from where he stood next to you in the kitchen, both facing your mother. You’d just helped him carry the few things he had upstairs to the box room, and now you were here, helping him get through the first face to face meeting he’d had with her in years. “Um, I brought this too.” Darren pulled an envelope from his jacket and set it down on the table, sliding it across so your mother didn’t have to stretch. “An advance on the rent. It’s not much, but it’s the most I could get for now.”

You watched as she pulled the dozen or so ten-pound notes from the envelope and counted them before tucking them back away safely. “Now you listen to me Darren Treacy, I don’t give a shit about your money and I’m not gonna kick you out if you need it more for something else. A deposit or lessons or whatever. But if I even hear a rumour that you’ve gotten yourself in some kind of trouble, you’ll be out on your ear faster than you can blink. You understand?”

“Of course. I’ll be no trouble.”

Your mother glared at him for a few moments longer, waiting until he was suitably nervous before nodding. “Good. Now bugger off the pair of you while I cook. I expect you both at the table.”

Both of you scarpered, the feeling reminding you of being dismissed after a telling off when you were teens. You would’ve laughed if you had wanted to risk an actual telling off. You reached Darren’s room and stepped inside, shutting the door behind you.

“Gettin’ shot was less scary than that,” Darren laughed once you were no longer at risk of being heard.

“You shouldn’t be making jokes!” You slapped his shoulder lightly, moving to flop onto his bed. “Not unless you want to see her really mad.”

“Heaven forbid.” Darren sat next to you, the two of you quiet for a few minutes. Faintly, you could hear music drift up from down below as your mother switched the radio on. “Thank you. For doing this. I’ve missed having a room.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, propping yourself up onto an elbow. “Now, here’s all the TV shows you need to avoid talking about….”

The meal went well, and Darren even managed to get through a couple of hours of TV watching with you and your mother without starting an argument. You caught the side eye your mother was giving him on occasion, but everything was civil and pleasant, and better than you could have hoped for.

It was so nice that you really shouldn’t have been surprised when you were jerked from your sleep that night with cold sweat running down your back, and gasping for breath. It had been months since you’d had a dream as bad as that, and of course, it had to appear the night things were finally fully feeling right again. Rubbing the tears and the last remaining images from your eyes, you pushed yourself up out of bed. The old scar on your side twinged in pain as you did, but you ignored it, not needing any more reminders of events past.

A trip downstairs and a glass of water later, you almost felt human again. Enough to at least try and go back to sleep. You were about to enter your bedroom when you noticed that there was a light on in Darren’s, barely visible, yet there as it creeped out from under the door. Approaching slowly, you listened. From the other side, you could hear the tell-tale signs of ragged breathing and quiet sniffs.

“Darren?” You called quietly, tapping the door gently as you opened it and peered around. “You okay?”

Darren was sitting on the edge of his bed with his back towards you. In the light of the bedside lamp, you could see his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his shoulders rising and falling as he caught his breath. He glanced at you over one of them. “I woke you?”

“Nah. Bad dreams are going around tonight I guess.” You slipped into the room fully, closing the door behind you. “Wanna talk about it?” It was a bold choice to just come in with no invite, but you knew Darren well enough to know that he’d never ask for help first. He watched you as you walked across the room, noiseless on the soft carpet, and sat next to him.

“I don’t know where to start.” He looked at you sadly, the remnants of tears still lingering in his eyes.

“Wherever. It doesn’t matter,” you said softly, taking his hand. “It was about the shooting?”

Darren nodded, “Yeah. It always is,” he sighed, using his free hand to run his fingers through his hair. “It varies what happens, but it always ends the same. I’m on the side of the road, bleedin’, hurtin’, terrified. And I...I can’t breathe. I know I’m dying, but I can’t do anything to stop it. I want to see Mary again, I want to see her girls, but I can’t move. I’m just...lyin’ there, choking on my own blood, staring up at the sky for eternity, just...just waitin’ to die.” Darren had been looking down as he spoke, but suddenly he looked straight up at you, eyes meeting your own. “But then...but then it starts to get dark, and it’s even scarier. Because I know that’s it. It’ll all go dark and I’ll be dead. And always, just as it does, I wake up. But I’m not really awake. I’m stuck, frozen and I realise I’m looking down at myself and I’m dead. I’m looking down at my dead body. It’s too much to take, and soon as I think I’m about to go mad I properly wake up. “

“I’m so sorry. Jesus, Darren, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

He looked for a moment like he was going to cry, but then he turned away and pressed his hand over his eyes. His other hand was still holding yours though, the grip tight. He took a steadying breath and opened his eyes again. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. You’re brave. Really brave,” you whispered. “I think...I think maybe you need some help for them though.”

“That’s what the Doctor said at my check-up. They wrote a prescription for some happy pills and recommended your group, but I never went and got the pills.”

“Maybe you should give them a go. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Darren laughed weakly. “Nidge and the others wouldn’t say that. They’d say I’m a fuckin’ pussy if they knew about any of this.”

“They aren’t here. You are. And I am. And there’s nothin’ wrong with having some help. It’s the strongest thing you can do.”

“Did you? Take them?”

“Still do.”

“Oh.” He glanced away for a few moments, and you let him have them, giving him a chance to think. When he looked back, he smiled. “I’ll try them. I’ve still got the paper, so I’ll get them tomorrow.”

You smiled. “Thank you. I think they’ll help. And the group is good for getting stuff out in the open. Once you get used to it, I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll try.”

Smiling again, you nudged his shoulder with your own. “That’s all I ask.”

Darren shifted on the bed, turning to face you a little more. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“You said bad dreams were spreading tonight so what was yours?”

In the wake of Darren’s nightmare and learning what it involved, your own had completely fled your mind. Flashes of images came flooding back at the memory making you cringe. Closing your eyes and sucking in a breath, you calmed yourself. No more of that. Not tonight. When you reopened your eyes Darren was watching you still, eyebrows furrowed together in concern. “It’s complicated.”

“By complicated do you mean it’s about what happened and you don’t want to hurt me?”

“No! Well, yes. Kinda? It...it was about that, but...there’s more to it. Stuff you don’t know and stuff that’s happened since. A complicated kinda complicated.”

“Try me?”

You chuckled tiredly. Darren was being sincere, you could see that. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him, you just didn’t want to dredge up so much of the past, not tonight. “Another time, yeah? When we’re not exhausted.”

Darren nodded. “Okay. You know you can tell me anythin’, yeah?”

“Yeah. It really is nothing to do with you. I just need to be able to get my thoughts straight.”

Darren nodded again, and the two of you fell into silence. You should probably go, you thought. You didn’t want to overstay your welcome, but you didn’t want to leave either. It was comforting to be around Darren. He maybe knew better than anyone what it was like. You grew up in the same place, around the same violence. Both been victim of the same violence. And if the way Darren was still holding your hand was anything to go by, he felt the same.

“You know, sometimes it helps to have another person with you when you go back to sleep after a nightmare. For me, it helped anyway. It’s...comforting to know there’s someone there with you,” you suggested after a minute, looking over at Darren.

In the soft light, you saw him smile in what looked like relief. “I’ll give anything a go right now.”

Somehow you managed to both move in sync, each climbing back onto the bed without need for words or discussion, and lying on your sides facing each other. Darren was on his right side which let you see the scars marring his chest properly for the first time. They were so close to heart...how easily things could’ve been different.

“Hey, I’m fine, Y/N,” Darren said when he spotted you looking. “I am.”

“I know,” you said on a sigh, meeting his gaze again. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, relaxing into the comfy mattress. It could’ve been awkward, lying as you were with someone, with another it probably would’ve been. But not with Darren. It was intimate for sure. There wasn’t a great deal of room so you were close together, foreheads almost touching, yet it wasn’t awkward. Honestly, it was the best you’d felt in a very long time.

Felt so good that as you fell back into sleep, you didn’t even think about how you’d tell Darren about what had happened since you left, or how he’d react if he ever found out the real truth about the night of the Incident.

Tagging: @dyll-pickless

(If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know!)

#love/hate #darren treacy #Darren Treacy x Reader #Robert Sheehan

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blurry-fics · 6 years

Text

Chapter Fifteen

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Minor amounts of angst

Word Count: 1560

Author’s Note: It feels like forever since the last chapter of this series! Might be switching up the posting schedule, but we’ll have to see. That’s a topic for another post. Anyway, enjoy this chapter! Thank you again for all the continued support 💛

“Oh, good,” you sighed as you pulled back the curtain on your bunk. “All the pictures are still here.”

“Of course they are,” Tyler smiled.

You shook your head and walked over to the couch, flopping down onto it. Your entire morning had been spent cleaning Tyler’s house and packing stuff up for tour. Now all you had to do was wait for Josh and the rest of the crew to show up before you could leave.

“Did Josh say when he was going to get here?” you asked as Tyler walked over and took a seat next to you.

“He said he was leaving a while ago, so he should be here any minute.” Tyler reached over and put a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, “It’s going to be ok. I’m going to be here the whole time. Plus, there’s not really anywhere you can have a private conversation on a tour bus.”

“Right.”

You were about to pull out your phone when you heard people talking outside the bus. A few moments later, Josh walked inside carrying a small backpack. He smiled at the two of you and set his stuff down by the table. Your heartbeat sped up. You hadn’t seen or talked to one another since you left to stay with Tyler after the party.

“Hey, man,” Tyler smiled, standing up to give Josh a hug. You elected to stay sitting on the couch.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you guys in a few days and it feels like a lifetime,” he laughed. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you muttered.

“Yeah, we had to rush to get everything packed this morning,” Tyler laughed.

“That reminds me,” Josh said, turning to you. “I don’t know if Tyler told you, but I packed up the rest of your clothes that were still at my house. They’re with the rest of the stuff outside.”

“Thanks,” you said, trying your best to give him a reassuring smile.

Tyler had offered for you to wear some of his clothes since the majority of your stuff had still been with Josh, but truth be told you were glad to have your actual stuff back. As much as you loved Tyler, you would rather not wear his baggy t-shirts and jeans for the entire second leg of the tour.

Josh smiled and turned back to his bag of stuff. You decided to spend some time organizing all the photos from the first part of the tour so that they didn’t accidentally get mixed in with all the new ones. It would also be a good opportunity to sit at the table and ignore everyone else on the bus for a little while.

“Y/N/N!” Tyler said, grabbing your attention.

You looked up from your laptop. Tyler and Josh were sitting on the floor with a couple other crew members, playing card games.

“Huh?” you asked, taking one earbud out so that you could hear him.

“Do you want to come play?”

You looked back to your laptop. After about an hour of work, almost all of your photos were dated and put into their proper folders. Playing card games to kill some time would probably be fun and you couldn’t really ignore everyone on the bus forever.

“Sure,” you said, shutting your laptop and joining everyone else.

You took a seat between Tyler and another one of the crew members, despite the fact that there had been a bit more space next to Josh. He looked over at you and pursed his lips for a moment before glancing back at his cards.

“You’ve played Cards Against Humanity before, right?” Tyler asked, handing you a small pile of white cards.

“Yep,” you answered, stifling a giggle as you read over some of the cards.

“Great,” Tyler smiled.

Josh read out the black card and you immediately placed down your answer. Tyler leaned over and bumped your arm.

“What card should I play?” he whispered, showing you two options.

You giggled at his answers and silently pointed to the better of the two. He smiled and nodded before setting it down with the rest of the white cards. Josh glanced over at the two of you.

This pattern continued for the rest of the game. You and Tyler would giggle and help each other pick out answers, earning you a couple looks from Josh. It sent a pang of guilt through you every time, but you were having too much fun with Tyler to stop. He had brought this on himself, after all.

“I think that’s the game,” Josh said, noticing that one of the crew members had seven cards.

“Damn,” you sighed, having only collected a couple black cards.

Everyone cleaned up the game and returned back to whatever they had been doing. The boys took a seat on the couch and you returned to your laptop to finish up a little bit more work. You were less than an hour away from the venue now, and you had to make sure that all of your equipment was set up properly for the show.

Music was blasting in your ears as you went about cleaning all of your camera lenses. You glanced up at Tyler and Josh, who hadn’t moved from the couch in quite some time. They seemed to be in the middle of an intense discussion.

You reached forward and paused your music so that you could hear their conversation a bit better. It was wrong to eavesdrop, but if they didn’t want anyone to hear then they shouldn’t be having a serious discussion in the middle of the tour bus.

“I don’t know what I did,” Josh said, just loud enough for you to hear. “Things just haven’t been the same since the party. Y/N will barely even look at me anymore, let alone talk to me.”

“Have you two tried talking?”

“I mean, no. I’m too afraid of getting shut down.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.”

“Yeah, you have a point.”

“Why don’t you just try casually talking again? That would at least give you a start.”

“Yeah.”

They stopped talking as one of the crew members walked into the main part of the bus. You started your music and acted as if you hadn’t heard anything. Josh got up and walked towards the back of the bus, but Tyler came and joined you at the table.

“How’s stuff going over here?” he asked.

You paused your music and pulled out your headphones, setting them on top of your keyboard. Tyler leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

“It’s going,” you sighed. “It feels kinda weird to be back on the road, even if the break was only a week.”

“You get used to it. Did you remember all your equipment?”

“So far,” you answered, looking over it all. “But I still feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“If you did, I’m sure it’s replaceable.”

“And expensive,” you laughed. “I’ve been meaning to ask, does the show have the same setup this time around?”

“Yep, right down to the setlist.”

“Ok, perfect. Now I just have to remember what I did last time,” you laughed.

“You’ll pick it back up in no time.”

Josh returned back to the main part of the tour bus. Upon seeing you and Tyler at the table, he walked over and sat down next to Tyler.

“What’s going on over here?” he asked.

“Just cleaning my camera and talking about the show,” you answered with a smile.

Josh seemed a bit surprised that you had actually answered him. You set down the lens that you had just finished cleaning and grabbed another one.

“Nice,” he nodded. “Are you excited to be taking pictures again?”

“Yeah. It was weird not doing much photography over the break, but it was nice to not worry about it for a while too.”

“That makes sense.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes!” someone called.

“I should probably get all this packed up,” you said, looking over the mess that you had made.

The boys nodded and walked off as you began to pack things back into your bag. It was a complicated process, and if everything didn’t go exactly where it was supposed to then your bag wouldn’t close.

“Do you have it handled, Y/N/N?” Tyler asked upon noticing you struggling with your bag.

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“You sure?”

You shot him a look, “Yes, Ty.”

“Ok,” he laughed.

You reached over and playfully shoved him in the arm. He tried to do the same in return, but you ducked out of the way at the last second.

“Not fair,” he grumbled before walking off.

You finally managed to get your bag closed and set it on the bench. Your stomach was starting to twist a bit as you grew increasingly nervous for the concert, but you pushed the worries aside. This was the same thing that you had been doing for the last three months. You were good at it.

“We’re here,” Josh announced right as the tour bus slowed to a stop. You grabbed your camera bag and followed everyone else off the bus.

Tyler walked up next to you and threw an arm around your shoulder, “Are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

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